Breakwater Bay (32 page)

“No. That’s not fair. They love it here.”

“I’m sorry.” He pushed to his feet. Jumped down to the boulder below them, then onto the beach.

“You can’t.”

He’d already started back up the dunes but he turned. “Why? Why can’t I?”

“You just can’t.”

“Not good enough.” He turned away from her.

She sat there, stunned. Sell Corrigan House? He must have lost his mind. He couldn’t. Generations of Corrigans had lived there. Nora and Lucas loved it there. They wouldn’t let him. She tried to stand up, but her legs seemed to belong to someone else.

“Alden, come back here!”

He didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. Just walked straight up the path through the beach roses until she could only see the top of his dark head, then nothing at all.

God, what had happened? Was it something that had happened with Nora, with Jennifer when they came for her? Was it something that Meri herself had done?

Had she pushed him over the brink somehow? Made his life untenable here? What was she going to do? He couldn’t leave them.

She struggled to her feet. Looked up the path to the house, then ran the opposite way. Across the beach, across the patch of sand and up the path that led her home.

T
here, it was done. He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, especially not to Meri. He hadn’t even really decided to sell until that moment.

Meri didn’t need him. His children would be better off without him fighting with their mother all the time. There would be someone close by to help Therese with the heavier chores. Maybe it was time he let go and moved on.

He didn’t need to turn to know that Meri had gone back to the farm where she belonged. He felt her absence. He didn’t need to look to see the breakwater to feel its presence. It would always be there, just a pile of rocks in the sunlight. Changeable and frightening in a storm.

Had he fallen in love with his own mythology? that he was some child knight errant riding to the rescue in a little red dinghy, protecting the young princess until she could claim her throne? Slaying innumerable imaginary dragons and a few real, insignificant details that she could have handled herself?

Well, she was on her way: career, family, fiancé.

He’d done what he’d promised. Protected her, loved her, helped her become someone who could take care of herself. Choose for herself. And she’d chosen.

She didn’t need him anymore. And he’d done it to himself.

M
eri burst into the farmhouse.

Gran looked up, startled. “What on earth?”

“That idiot. That crazy idiot.” Meri gripped her sides. She didn’t think she’d remembered to take a breath as she ran, and her lungs were burning.

“Oh dear. What did he do?”

“He says he’s going to sell Corrigan House.”

Her grandmother frowned, folded the dish towel she’d been using, and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“He can’t do that!” Meri couldn’t understand why Gran was taking it so calmly. Had Alden already discussed it with her? Was she in agreement? “He can’t.”

“Why can’t he?” Her grandmother raised her eyebrows and lifted the cup to her lips.

“Because . . .” Alden had asked her the same question. There were too many reasons to name.

Gran put her cup down and waited attentively. Meri recognized that look. She’d seen it quite a few times over the last thirty years, especially when the boys told a tall tale, or were caught fighting and each tried to blame the other, or when Meri tried to convince her that she should be allowed to do something that Gran considered entirely inappropriate.

But she was stumped as to why Gran was looking that way now.

“Because it’s been in the family for ages. Generations of Corrigans have lived there.”

“All of them are dead, why should they care?”

Meri was more confused than ever. “Would you want to sell Calder Farm?”

“No, but I have mostly fond memories here, my children grew up here, and hopefully I’ll live long enough to see my grandchildren grow to love it here.”

“Of course you will.”

“But Alden doesn’t have the luxury of good memories. His mother left him. His father was a bitter man. Not mean, but not nurturing. Then there’s that woman he married. Nora and Lucas left the beach when they were quite young.”

“Nora at least loves it here.”

“So for the few weeks she and Lucas visit, Alden should ramble around in an old dark house for the rest of the year. It is too big for one person. It’s falling down around his ears.”

“He could fix it up. He has the money.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t have a reason.”

“Sure he does. Nora wants to come live here. You heard her.”

“For another year and then she goes off to college. And then . . .” Gran ended on a half shrug.

“What about you? He’s your closest neighbor, and he looks after you.”

Gran snorted. “I don’t need looking after. And I have plenty of friends. I’ll do just fine without him. Why is this so upsetting to you? Why do you care so much that he keeps Corrigan House?”

“Gran, I spend most of my waking hours restoring houses that were sold or inherited by people who didn’t take care of them, houses that had years of neglect and mistreatment. Of course I don’t want to see that happen to Alden’s house.

“What if whoever buys it tears it down and builds a huge McBeachhouse or, worse, a hotel or a condo.”

“The zoning board would never allow a hotel.”

“But—”

“So you would have Alden tied to that old house just because you want it sitting there? Should he keep it even if Peter decides to stay in California and you move there?”

“What? I wouldn’t.”

“You’d choose staying here over starting a new life with the man you love?”

Would she?
“He won’t stay there. Maybe for law school.” He had applied to Stanford, but mainly because of his uncle. He had his heart set on Yale. But what if he didn’t get in to Yale? For a split second Meri’s mind veered completely from Alden’s bombshell to her own dilemma. Would she move to California to be with Peter?

“But if he does?”

“It won’t come to that. Besides, what Alden does should have nothing to do with me. I told him so last night.”

“Ah, there’s the crux of the matter.”

“What? Is that why he’s selling? He’s finally free?”

Gran burst into a trill of laughter. “Is that what happened? You found out about his promise to Riley Rochfort and think he’s been imprisoned here ever since like some enchanted prince out of one of his books? And now that you’ve released him, he’s going to hightail it away on a white horse?”

“It’s not a joking matter.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s that damn diary.”

“Gran.”

Gran pursed her lips. “I wish I had never given it to you. It changes nothing. We would still be sitting here having this same conversation if I had destroyed it years ago. What and who you are have nothing—nothing to do with your birth. Whoever said the truth will set you free was a damn fool.”

“I think it was somebody in the Bible.”

“John. Well, I apologize to the man.”

Meri bit her lip to hide a smile. “But Gloria Steinem said ‘the truth will set you free but it will piss you off first.’”

“Smart woman,” Gran said.

“So, Gran, what is the truth in this situation?”

Gran looked at her and sighed. “I don’t know. It isn’t my truth. All I do know is nobody’s looking in the right places.”

“What does that have to do with Alden selling Corrigan House? I don’t understand.”

“Meri, maybe it’s time you took a good look at your life.”

“My life?” Meri’s stomach turned cold. She groped for the nearest chair and sat down. “I know I’m lucky. You’ve all been so good to me. I’m grateful. You know that.”

“Oh, child. We’re family. Don’t you forget it.” She stood and carried her cup to the sink. Looked out the window.

Meri had to fight not to put her head down and cry. She lost. “I’m sorry.”

Gran turned. “For what?”

Meri shrugged. She didn’t know; she only knew that she felt miserable.

Gran pulled her to her feet and into a hug.

“I didn’t mean you’ve done something wrong. Those people who say you should live in the moment . . . sometimes we have to look at the past to see how we got to this moment, then look ahead and try to imagine what will make us happy to live in that moment when it comes.”

“No one can tell what the future will be.”

“No, but we can hedge our bets.”

Meri pulled away. “Gran, what do you know about betting?”

“That’s beside the point. You go think about things, things that have nothing to do with Laura’s diary. I’m going to work in the garden.”

“Do you think you should?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“I’ll help.”

“You stay here.” She grabbed a wide-brimmed hat off the peg by the mudroom door, picked her gardening gloves out of the basket, and went outside, letting the screen door slam behind her.

After Gran left, Meri sat down again. For a long time she just listened to the sounds of her grandmother digging outside the door, and once the sound of the Volvo driving away. She tried to think about her life, but the diary kept encroaching. It seemed like that’s what had suddenly sent her comfort reeling out of control.

But that wasn’t it. She was beginning to see that now. She still had a loving family—that hadn’t changed; she loved her work—that hadn’t changed. She was right where she wanted to be.

She’d met Everett Simmons. It had been traumatic for a bit, but it hadn’t lasted. Peter was in L.A. for the summer. He’d be back in the fall and they would get engaged. That was the same. Alden was going away. And that wasn’t the same. That rocked her world and not in a good way.

Maybe that’s what Gran meant. How did she see her future without Corrigan House?

She wandered into the parlor, picking up things and remembering, photographs and childhood art projects; she touched Great-Grandmother Calder’s afghan. Stopped at the window that faced Corrigan House. She’d had good times there. At least until Jennifer came, but the kids had been special. They’d had good times even then.

She pulled the lacy curtains aside and leaned against the frame trying to imagine anyone but Alden living in the house. Or a condo built in its place. Surely the zoning commission would never allow it.

But it wasn’t the house she was afraid of losing. It was Alden. He was so much a part of their lives, her life. She kept expecting to hear the back door slam and his footsteps come across the kitchen. Or hear him in the garden talking to Gran. But time passed and as far as Meri could tell, he hadn’t returned home.

Where was he?

Late in the morning, Gran came in. They had lunch. Meri did laundry, and all the time she listened for the sound of the Volvo.

Meri spent a restless afternoon, sneaking peeks out the window at every sound. Alden didn’t return.

They went to bed early, though Meri didn’t sleep well. She thought about what Gran said. Remembered all the good things in her life, some of the uncomfortable ones. Things that seemed devastating at the time seemed insignificant now.

Because she had always had people who loved her to see her through.

Meri kept hearing the sound of a car engine, but when she got up to look out her bedroom window, there was nothing there.

You’re being ridiculous,
she told herself and closed her eyes to wait for morning to come. She must have fallen asleep around four o’clock because when she looked at the clock again it was almost noon, and her room was filled with the aroma of banana bread.

Meri bolted out of bed. She could hear Gran moving around downstairs, so she hurried through a shower and dressing and went downstairs to be useful. She found Gran in the kitchen, all evidence of baking already cleaned and put away.

“Good morning; sit down and I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“A piece of that banana bread would be great if it’s not for the church bake sale or anything.”

“You know I made it just for you. Pour us a cup of coffee and sit down.”

Meri poured the coffee and joined Gran at the counter. “Did Alden come home?”

“I haven’t seen him.” Gran opened the cake cover to reveal two loaves of freshly baked bread. “It’s still warm.”

“Smells wonderful.”

Gran cut them both thick slices of the bread and they sat down.

The banana bread was delicious, moist and filled with bits of pecans, and for a few seconds Meri forgot the knot in her stomach that had been there since Alden had announced he was selling Corrigan House.

“What are we going to do today?”

“I’m going to polish the silver. You’re going to start getting ready to drive back to Newport. I don’t want you driving in the dark with a bad hand. Maybe you should go say good-bye to Alden before you do.”

“Good-bye? He’s home?”

“I don’t know. If he isn’t, leave him a note.”

Had she just angered her grandmother? Gran didn’t usually lose her temper, especially not with Meri, but she certainly sounded terse this morning. Was it something she had done or said? She’d tried looking at her life, tried imagining the future, but it didn’t help the now. Everything was falling apart.

“Go on. I’ll deal with these dishes.”

M
eri started across the field. It was hard enough to navigate the uneven ground without the two barn cats that had come to check her out and decided to join her, running ahead, hiding among the weeds then jumping out to pounce at her shoes. The ground began to blur, and she grew close to tears of frustration.

The cats finally ran off after some unseen victim. The tears weren’t so easy to deal with. What was wrong with her? She was not a crier, not even at the movies; well, sometimes at the movies. She must be on overload, learning she was adopted, the diary, the new father, the injury to her hand, the job insecurity. And now Alden, just when she really did need him, was bailing on her.

And there it was.

The final straw of a long, emotional roller coaster of the last few weeks.

It was more than the house. Even though there was a basketful of fond memories there, it was just a house. It wasn’t the structure that was responsible for those memories. It was the inhabitants.