Beloved (39 page)

"I saw you in the lane outside my house last night," she said coldly as Mac rose to his feet and brushed off his khakis. "What were you doing there?"

"
Wa-a-l
l
, I was in the area
—"

"I
know
you were in the area. What I'd like to know is why." She folded her arms across her chest like a nineteenth-century schoolmistress. Prim. That's what she felt. Prim.

Her body language seemed to strike a nerve with him. The cautiously friendly expression on his face turned dark. "God, you want to know why. I would've thought it was obvious. Someone has an interest in you that's not what I'd call healthy
—"

"Because they threw my laundry in the mud? Believe me, mister, that's the least of my problems right now."

She considered telling him about the paranormal experience that she'd had on the roof. But how could she possibly describe it to him? That was the problem with the paranormal
—
it wasn't normal.

She settled for saying, "I appreciate your keeping an eye out for me, but I think the window locks and barrel bolts
will do just fine. Billy
'
s putting in a yard light, too. All I
'
ll have left to do is sign up for the handgun course,
"
she added sarcastically.

She jammed her hands in her pockets and said in a sulky voice,
"
But I would like to add that all of this is just whistling in the wind. It won
'
t solve
anything.
"
She looked away from him and up at Billy, driving nails with an expert hand.

"
I take it you
'
re still on your Judith kick,
"
Mac said perceptively.
"
Did you find anything useful in the death record?
"

"
Only the bare bones of her life,
"
Jane admitted.
"
She was a merchant and she died of fits.
"

Mac raised his eyebrows in an ironic grimace.
"
Not much, but you can build on it, I
'
m sure.
"

"
You bet I can,
"
Jane said, her chin coming up defiantly.
"
I can tell you that Judith Brightman was married to a whaler named Ben; that she was friendly with, or even related to, the wife of the captain of a ship named the
Chelsea;
that the ship ran up on a bar somewhere near the island; and
—
I
'
m not positive about this part
—
that Ben may
well
have drowned trying to make it ashore.
"

When Mac gave her a puzzled look, she said,
"
I have not made this story up, nor have I read an account of it anywhere.
"

When he still didn
'
t say anything, she said,
"
I can add, with complete confidence, my belief that Judith Brightman is far and away the fiercest, most singleminded and devoted woman ever to have lived on this island.
"

That got him.
"
What do you mean,
'
is
'
?
"
he said under his breath. His attention was divided between Jane and Billy, who was coming down from the roof.
"
What the
hell
are you saying, Jane?
"

"
I
'
m saying I
'
ve made contact with her,
"
Jane answered, with far more triumph than she felt.

Mac simply stared at her.

"
At least, I
'
m assuming it was Judith Brightman,
"
she said less confidently.
"
I
'
ll be able to verify it Monday when I go back to the town clerk
'
s office.
"

Like a sailboat that
'
s been knocked down by a gust of wind, Mac struggled to right himself.
"
Your ghost keeps office hours at the Town Clerk
'
s Office?
"

"
Very funny. I just need to be sure of my facts.
"

"
Facts! You call those facts? I
'
ve seen more facts in the graffiti on a subway car!
"
His eyes were blazing, his voice a strained growl.
"
You naive little twit! There
'
s nothing funny about this. You
'
ve got to stop
—
"

Suddenly he pointed to her pile of leaves.
"
If you
'
re going to put them on the curb for pickup, don
'
t,
"
he said in a complete change of tone.
"
I
'
ll throw them on my compost pile.
"

"
What? Oh. Sure,
"
Jane said, turning around. Billy was walking past, an amiable smile on his good-natured face. She wondered how much he
'
d heard.

Billy tossed a scrap of leftover flashing into the back of his pickup.
"
Did you ask Mac what a Humane House was?
"
he said to Jane.
"
Maybe he
'
d know.
"

"
Humane Houses? That
'
s what they called the lifesaving stations that used to be located around the island.
"
Mac turned to Jane and said,
"
Why do you want to know?
"

Jane sighed and shook her head.
"
Ben Brightman was trying to reach a Humane House after the
Chelsea
went up on the bar,
"
she said quietly.
"
He was coming home from a three-year voyage; he didn
'
t want to die within sight of
Nantucket
'
s shore.
"

"
You read about this somewhere,
"
Mac said, almost angrily.
"
In a tourist brochure. In a history of the island.
"

Jane answered him with a sad and forlorn smile, as the pieces to the mystery continued falling quietly into place for her.

She wrapped her arms around herself. It was very chilly. Low gray clouds had crept in from the southwest, and an energetic sea breeze was whipping loose strands of
her
hair across her cheek. She had no desire for this argument. Mac didn
'
t believe a word of her story, and of course he never would. How could he? He
'
d put all of his faith in rich, brown earth, and deep roots, and green leafy things. There was no room in that doctrine for something as evanescent as a ghost.

Mac was looking off in the distance, to where a view of the sea would be if it weren
'
t blocked by scrub trees and brush across the road. His jaw was set in the way she was learning so well. It depressed her, more than she was willing to admit; he was so unyielding. He zipped his canvas jacket and flipped up its collar, then turned to her, his back to the chilling wind.

"
Don
'
t pursue this, Jane,
"
he said in deadly earnest.
"
Don
'
t. You
'
re stepping where angels will not tread.
"

Again she shrugged.
"
I have no choice, Mac. Can
'
t you see that? Anyway, I
'
ll try to go on tiptoe.
"
She said it with a lightness she did not feel.

It was another one of their standoffs. Afterward Jane thought that they might have grown old and died on the spot where they stood if it hadn
'
t been for Billy.

"
Hey, Mac,
"
he said, driving a playful fist into his mentor
'
s solid biceps.
"
Carol tells me you
'
re throwin
'
a shindig for Uncle Easy. Eighty, that
'
s a big one. We
'
ll be there for sure.
"

"
Great,
"
said Mac without much enthusiasm.
"
And bring the kids. It
'
s a family affair.
"

At the mention of the words
"
family affair,
"
Jane did the polite thing and began to take her leave.

"
Just a minute,
"
Mac commanded, stopping her in her tracks.
"
Uncle Easy specifically asked for you. A week from next Saturday. If you can
'
t come, of course we
'
ll understand,
"
he added with typical irony.

It was an invitation, an honest-to-goodness invitation. Sort of. Jane couldn
'
t hav
e been more impressed if she'd
been asked to a state dinner.

She smiled graciously and s
aid, "I love birthday parties.
When and where would you like me?
"

A
s it turned out, Uncle Easy had
"
specifically requested
"
just about everyone around for his birthday party, since most of his own friends had
"
gone off-island once and for all,
"
as he put it. So Bing was invited, and Cissy too, for no other reason than that they were there, and they were a
li
ve.

"
I met the old guy exactly once,
"
Bing said, laughing, as he, Cissy, and Jane
li
ngered over hashbrowns in town on Sunday.
"
He
'
s a real piece of work
—
I remember he tried
li
ke hell to sell me some broken-down truck he had no use for. Brother. He must think I have
'
City S
li
cker
'
written all over me.
"

Jane, new proud owner of the truck in question, smiled weakly and changed the subject.
"
So, Cissy, how
'
s your Mr. X? Not on the island, I guess, since you
'
re here with us. Whatever the reason, it
'
s nice to have you back.
"

And it was. Cissy was wonderful therapy. Un
li
ke Jane, she seemed incapable of fee
li
ng tense, anxious, or depressed. Having an estranged and angry husband in the wings didn
'
t seem to bother her a whit. Cissy could face down anything, including Judith Brightman; if Cissy ever bumped into
her,
she
'
d probably offer to take her downtown for a new wardrobe.

One thing was sure: Cissy knew all about new wardrobes. Gone were the studded denim jackets and duct-tape skirts. Gone were the spiky hair and black funky boots. In their place was a young woman right out of
Town and Country,
in a softly cowled cashmere sweater, plain gold earrings, and a skirt neither too long nor too short. Her hairstyle was subtle, her shoes correct, her Coach handbag just big enough to hold the minimal makeup she wore.

"
I can
'
t be
lieve how more ..
. mature you look,
"
Jane said, choosing her words.

"
D
'
you think so really? I mean, do you really? It was so weird, throwing out everything I owned. I mean, it
'
s possible I
might
have worn this sweater, y
'
know, or the earrings, or even the skirt, but,
li
ke, never all
together.
And never the shoes,
"
she added, sticking
out her foot to display a low-
heeled shoe of supple leather.