The Secret Sister (23 page)

“I can forgive you,” she said. “But that doesn't mean I want to get back together.”

He scooted forward. “I'll prove myself to you. Give me the chance.”

She glanced at her phone again. If she didn't shower right away, she wouldn't have time to get ready. “How? We live in separate states.”

“I've taken two weeks off. I'll stay someplace in town and we'll see how it goes.” He slid one arm around her shoulders. “You know I'll always love you.”

Was that even true? Or was he simply reeling from his latest split?

Her phone buzzed. Grateful for the distraction, she used the excuse of picking it up to break free. It was Rafe, with a text.
You still going?

“Is that him?” Jack asked.

She heard the displeasure in his voice but nodded.

“What does he want?”

“I agreed to have dinner at his mother's place today.”

Despite the muscle that moved in his cheek, Jack managed a pleasant smile. “No problem. I brought this on myself, and I'm willing to do whatever I have to in order to fix it. I'll go back to Keys Crossing, find a room and...and you can call me after dinner.”

“Okay,” she said, and sent Rafe a reply.
Yes. Can I catch a ride?

* * *

Rafe wasn't sure what to expect when Maisey left her bungalow and climbed into the passenger seat of his truck. He'd felt as if he'd finally broken through her defenses, finally convinced her to give him an honest chance—and then her ex had appeared.

“Where's Jack?” he asked as she put on her seat belt. He hadn't spotted a car in Maisey's drive.

“He went into town.”

“To catch the ferry?”

“No, he's planning to get a motel.”

“For how long?”

“He took two weeks off work.”

“And he plans to stay here the whole time?” As far as Rafe was concerned, that couldn't be good.

“Sounds like it.”

He put the transmission in Reverse. “Are you glad to see him?”

“Not especially.”

After backing out of her drive, he paused before going any farther. “It's okay, Maisey. I'm not going to put any pressure on you. As a matter of fact, I want you to spend as much time with him as possible. If you still love him, maybe you should go back to him. I'd rather have that happen now than later.”

She nodded. “I got it. And I appreciate your patience.”

He didn't see that he had much choice. He had to think about Laney, couldn't take the sort of risks he might've been willing to take if it was only
his
heart on the line. If Maisey wanted to be with her ex, if she was just going to leave Fairham again, he and Laney would both be better off if she did it before they could get too fond of her.

Maisey manufactured some small talk as he drove, acting as if everything was fine. He had to give her credit for putting forth the effort. But he could tell she was as uncertain where they stood with each other as he was, and that made him nervous. Even though he'd resisted, he'd gotten excited about her. Why he'd let that happen, he couldn't say. He'd known from the beginning that she was out of his reach.

She had him stop at Love's In Bloom, so she could get the flowers she planned to bring. Then she held the flowers on her lap to keep them from tipping over.

When he pulled into his mother's drive and waited for Maisey to get out instead of killing the engine, she glanced over at him. “You're not coming in with me?”

“No. Tell Laney I went to watch football with an old friend, and I'll be back to pick her up later. I'll take you home, too, of course.”

“But...isn't your mother expecting you?”

“She won't mind.”

She set the flowers on the floorboard. “You don't want to be around me.”

He stared across his mother's small yard before focusing on her again. “I've decided to give you some space as well as time.”

Her throat had gone so dry she could barely swallow. “How much space?”

He didn't answer, making it apparent that he was backing off completely.

She frowned. “And if
I
want to see
you
?”

“You know where I live, but...”

She waited.

“Make sure you're done with Jack first.”

She rubbed her forehead. “Rafe...”

“Don't feel you have to apologize or explain anything. I think it'll be smarter just to wait and see what happens. Maybe what you want—your feelings—will become clearer with time. Go on in. Have a nice dinner.”

“In a minute.” Leaving the flowers where they were, she clung to the door. “First, tell me this. What is it you see in me? Why are you even interested in getting to know me?”

He felt his eyebrows go up. “Are you kidding?”

“Not at all. You say you—you think I'm beautiful, but that's not enough to build a relationship on.”

“I like the way you are with Laney, how you treat her with such inherent kindness. I like the soul of the person who wrote
Molly Brimble Conquers the World
. I enjoyed seeing the world through that author's eyes. I like how brave you are, how determined to handle your own problems, even though I wish you'd confide in me. I like that you're willing to stand up to your mother, when so many people aren't. You could've gone home to her, but you didn't. I like how, when we're in bed together, you look at me as if I'm all that matters. Do you need me to go on? Maybe some of these things are subtle, and I admit there's a lot more I need to know, but a relationship has to start somewhere, and I consider this a pretty good foundation.”

“But I've been a wreck since I got home! What about that part? I nearly attacked you on the beach!”

“And I wanted you even then.”

“You pushed me away.”

“Because I understood why you were doing it. That it wouldn't fix what was wrong. And I'm not going to settle for a hookup every once in a while. Your husband cheated on you. You've been through a painful divorce and now you're trying to start over. A relationship with you will take time, and what you've been through means there'll be a few bumps along the way.”

“It's not just that, Rafe. If you want the truth, if you
really
want to hear what's wrong with me, I'll tell you. I haven't been myself since Ellie died. No matter what I do, I can't get over losing her. I watch you and Laney, and I'm
so
envious!”

He almost broke in to ask who Ellie was, but the words pouring out of Maisey were anguished and coming fast. He was afraid that if he interrupted, she'd only try to dam them up again.

“So envious that sometimes I feel guilty about it.” She dashed a hand over her cheeks to wipe the tears that were beginning to stream down her face. “I ache to hold her in my arms the way you hold Laney. I want to be with her more than anything in the world. But that's impossible.”

“Because...” he said softly.

“She's dead. She died two years ago from SIDS. Which is like saying the bogeyman came to get her, you know? It's impossible to accept, because she was fine when she went to bed. Then, sometime during the night, she just stopped breathing—for no apparent reason. I keep asking myself what I could've done to save her. But I didn't get the chance.” She sniffed and wiped her face again. “So I don't blame Jack for finding someone else. I wasn't the same after that—I was a hollow, empty shell.”

He started to say that she was also his
wife
. That “for better or worse” meant just that. But she raised a hand as though she had to get it all out at once.

“And maybe it wouldn't be so bad, maybe I could've recovered by now, if I could work. But I can't write a word. Now I'm arranging flowers at my mother's shop for not much more than minimum wage and who can guess how long I'll be there.” She hiccupped as she gasped for more breath. “So are you
sure
? Are you positive you really want to be with
me
?”

He'd thought she considered herself too good for him. He was shocked to find that wasn't the case at all. She hadn't mentioned her mother's approval, or lack of it, once.

She glared at him, as if after hearing the ugly truth he couldn't possibly say yes.

He put the truck in Park and turned off the engine. “How old was Ellie?”

More tears fell as she closed her eyes. “Six weeks.”

No wonder Maisey had lost so much weight and looked so fragile. “I can't believe Jack didn't take better care of you.”

“No one would want to deal with such a sad, miserable wife.”

He took her hand and waited for her to open her eyes. “Don't make excuses for him. We all have choices, even when times are tough. Those are the defining moments of our lives.”

She made an effort to overcome her emotions. “So what's
your
choice? Now that you know what you'd be getting into? Don't you agree that you'd be happier going after someone else?”

Giving her hand a slight tug to pull her toward him, he leaned over and kissed her. “I haven't changed my mind about you.”

That look she'd given him when they were in bed together, the one that had created such hope, appeared on her face again. “You can't mean it.”

“We all have rough patches. You'll get through it.”

His confidence in her seemed to help. She even smiled. “Does that mean you'll come in and have dinner?”

When he hesitated, she touched his cheek. “I want you there.”

“Sure,” he said, and released his seat belt.

22

M
aisey couldn't keep her eyes off Rafe. She listened for his voice, blushed when she caught him looking at her and couldn't stop herself from gravitating to whatever part of the kitchen or living room he was in. It was all rather terrifying. So was the thrill that went through her whenever he touched her, even accidentally. She was on the rebound—not a good time to become infatuated. That warning voice hadn't fallen silent. And yet...she felt alive again.

Maybe she was finally beginning to get over Ellie's death. Just telling Rafe about the loss she'd suffered had somehow lightened that load. And when she felt his hand linger on the small of her back as he pulled out her chair for dinner, or saw him grin at her across the table while they were eating, she felt he was encouraging her to let go of the pain and embrace something new and hopeful.

“You look so happy. What are you thinking about?”

Maisey blinked. Vera was watching her with a quizzical expression.

“Um...” Maisey felt heat rise to her cheeks because it definitely wasn't something she could share. “I was thinking about how delicious dinner was.”

They'd been busy cleaning up, which was probably why Vera found that silly grin of hers so unusual. “You enjoyed it?”

“Immensely.”

“I'm pleased to hear it.” She patted Maisey's hand. “I might've poured it on a bit thick, but my son's a wonderful man. I stand by every compliment.”

Maisey almost laughed. Rafe had been right. His mother
was
very obvious when it came to her matchmaking. Vera had seated Maisey next to Rafe, then proceeded to extoll his many virtues throughout the meal—what a caring son he was, what a wonderful father, what a hard worker. Once, when he could do it without Vera's noticing, Rafe had rolled his eyes at Maisey to acknowledge what was going on, but for the most part he took it in stride. There was only one point when he said, “Mom, enough. Maisey doesn't want to hear one more feat of strength, or clever thing I've said, or unlikely repair I've made that no one else on earth could possibly have figured out. But thanks for the sales job.”

His mother had blustered that she wasn't giving anyone any sales job. “I'm just telling the truth!”

“Maisey knew me when I was in my early twenties, okay?” he'd said dryly.

“You got the bad behavior out of your system early,” she'd responded. “That's what counts.”

“You didn't approach it that philosophically back then,” he'd teased.

That had shut her up, for a while. But it didn't take long for her to try again, although more subtly.

“These are the last ones,” Rafe said as he carried in their dessert plates.

Laney was up on a chair, her hands in the soapy water. Vera was letting her wash some plastic cups they hadn't used, because she was so intent on being part of the cleanup.

“Thanks, Rafe,” Vera said. “Isn't he helpful?” she added as an aside to Maisey.

This time, Rafe waggled his eyebrows behind his mother's back as if to say, “Could you ever find anyone better?” and Maisey almost burst out laughing.

“That's very nice of him,” she concurred, biting the insides of her cheeks.

“Laney and I can take over now,” Vera announced, shooing them back into the living room. “You two go in and see what's on television. We'll be out in a little while.”

When they sat down on the couch, Rafe put his arm around her, and Maisey snuggled against him.

“What would you like to watch?” he asked as he surfed through the channels.

“Football.”

He gave her a disbelieving look. “Really?”

She grinned back at him. “Absolutely.”

He drew her closer as he put on the game, and not long after that, Laney came out. She could make her way around her grandmother's house with remarkable ease. Vera had explained that they just had to be careful not to leave anything out that she might trip on.

Maisey expected Laney to cross over to her father and climb in his lap, as she'd watched her do through the window a few days earlier. But Laney surprised her by coming, unerringly, to her.

“Maisey, can I sit by you?” she asked.

“Of course,” Maisey said, and helped her get settled.

Soon Maisey was so relaxed and comfortable with Rafe on one side and Laney on the other, and the TV droning on, that she felt herself begin to drift off.

“Are you tired, Maisey?”

Maisey lifted her heavy eyelids to smile at Laney. “Yes. Are you?”

“No.”

“I guess I'm more relaxed than tired.” Maisey ran her fingers through Laney's hair.

“That feels good,” Laney murmured, wriggling closer to her.

“
You
feel good,” Maisey said, and meant it. She was so content she hadn't even approached the questions she'd been planning to ask Vera about how she might've come to know Malcolm—or if Vera had ever met someone by the name of Gretchen Phillips. As a longtime island resident, Vera could easily have heard of her, if Gretchen had ever lived on Fairham. But tonight, Maisey hadn't allowed herself to dwell on the things that had taken over her thoughts most recently.

She knew she'd have to try to unravel her mother's dark secret before she left Vera's, though. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.

It wasn't until the football game ended that Maisey got up and went into the kitchen where Vera had disappeared about an hour earlier. She figured she wouldn't be missed; Rafe was tickling Laney, to gales of laughter.

She found his mother sitting in the dining area, knitting.

“You didn't want to do that in the living room with us?” she asked.

Vera turned down the music on a small radio at her elbow. “No, I like to listen to my music while I knit, and this chair gives me the best back support. Can I get you anything? Would you like another piece of pie?”

Maisey patted her stomach. “I've had plenty for one day. That's more than I've eaten in quite a while.”

“Looks to me like you could use several weeks of big meals,” Vera joked.

“I am a little too thin,” Maisey admitted. “Do you mind if I sit down with you?”

“Tired of football?”

“Just want to talk to you for a few minutes.”

Although she seemed taken aback, Vera motioned to the opposite chair. “No problem. Have a seat.”

“The other day, when we were in Smitty's, you mentioned that you were acquainted with my dad.”

“I was. I liked him a great deal.”

“How'd you meet him?”

“When my boys were in middle school, I was working as a maid at the Drift Inn but couldn't quite cover all my bills. So I took on a second job, waiting tables in the evenings. Your father came in alone one night, just before closing. He seemed upset.”

“Do you have any idea what might've been bothering him?”

“No. He said some vague stuff about having a tough week. But I knew who he was and where he lived, and I wanted a job that paid more than I was making so I could spend more time with my boys. I'm afraid that's why they got so wild in their teens,” she confided. “They didn't have enough adult supervision. It would've been different if Clifton had lived.” She sighed with a hint of nostalgia. “Anyway, I gathered up my nerve and asked your father if he needed any help.”

“Did he hire you?” If so, Maisey didn't remember.

Her expression grew even more reflective. “No. He said there weren't any openings at Coldiron House. But he started to come into the diner regularly, and tipped me well.”

Maisey watched as Vera's hands went back to manipulating her knitting needles with that same regular motion. “Did you know my mother?”

Her needles stilled. “Not as well, no.”

“You and my father must've been about the same age.”

“We were. But there was no funny business going on, if that's what you're worried about. He was just generous with me. Far as I can say, your father was always true to your mother.”

Maisey could hear that Laney was giggling even more loudly. “How familiar are you with my mother?” she asked Vera.

“I see her around town occasionally. But I wouldn't say we're friends. We're not even acquaintances. We don't have any reason to go to the same places. For one thing, flowers have never been a luxury I could afford. Unless they're from the supermarket... Not that I didn't enjoy the gorgeous arrangement you brought. I swear I've never seen anything like it.”

“Thank you.”

“Did you arrange it yourself?”

“I did.”

“It's spectacular.”

If only
her
mother could say that once... “Have you ever heard the name Gretchen Phillips?”

Vera gave her a bemused look. “I have, but... Why would you ask about her?”

Maisey hadn't decided how much to divulge, but figured she'd have to divulge
something
to keep Vera talking. “I found some letters from her, addressed to my father.”

“Where?”

“In the attic at my mother's house.”

“You don't say! I didn't realize she knew your father. But maybe she did some work at Coldiron House. Most everyone around here's applied there at one time or another.”

“What type of work would she have done?”

“Well...let me see. When I first came to the island, Gretchen managed the motel where I worked. But she had a bad back, had trouble being on her feet all day. So she quit when Rafe was maybe...six? Did some child care in her home after that. She occasionally watched my boys when their regular sitter wasn't available. So maybe she watched you now and then, too.”

“I don't remember her,” Maisey said.

“You wouldn't. She left when you were quite young.”

“How young?”

“I'm guessing you couldn't have been more than two.”

“Have you seen her since?”

“No. Haven't heard from her, either.”

It seemed odd that Gretchen had moved on so long ago. Maisey would've been six to nine through the years Gretchen was sending those letters to Malcolm and, according to the postmarks, they'd been mailed here on Fairham. “Do you know where she went?”

“I'm afraid not.”

“Can you think of anyone who might've kept in touch with her?

“Lord, that was a long time ago, nearly thirty years. Let me see...” She set her knitting to one side.

“She'd still have some family or friends on the island, wouldn't she?”

Rafe came into the kitchen, carrying Laney. “What's going on in here?”

“Maisey was asking about an old acquaintance of mine—Gretchen Phillips. You don't know anyone by the last name of Phillips who still lives here on Fairham, do you?”

“There's Ranger Phillips, that old fisherman who used to run the charter business.”

“That's right!” Vera exclaimed. “He was connected to Gretchen in some way.”

Maisey straightened the salt and pepper shakers that sat next to the napkin holder. “He couldn't have been her husband?”

“No, her husband died in a car accident before she ever started at the motel,” Vera replied. “Like me, she was a widow with two little kids to raise.”

“Could Ranger have been her brother-in-law?” Maisey asked.

“That'd be my guess,” Vera replied.

Rafe shifted Laney to his other arm. “Why are you so interested in this Gretchen woman?”

“She might know something about an incident that happened a long time ago.”

“An incident?” he repeated.

Taking a deep breath, Maisey rubbed her hands on her thighs and stood up. “My mother once mentioned that Gretchen had some old documents about the history of Fairham Island. I'd like to get a copy of them.” She'd learned from Jack, when he was seeing Heather, that a lie was most believable when it was close to the truth. But this was the best she could come up with.

“I didn't realize she had any interest in the history of the island,” Vera said. “But if you get those documents, I'd love to see them, too.”

“I'll definitely share them. Maybe I should check with this... Ranger, you said his name was?”

“Yeah. He lives out beyond Smuggler's Cove on that remote finger of the island that juts into the sea,” Rafe said.

“I've been out that way several times, mostly when I was in high school. We used to have parties there. But I don't remember anyone living in the area.”

“He's lived there for as long as I've been on the island,” Rafe said. “You probably just didn't notice. He's not one to show himself if he can help it. He's sort of a hermit.”

“Does he still run the charter service?”

“I'm sure he goes out now and then, but he's gotten too old to do much of that,” Rafe said. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah. I guess it's about that time.” Time to go back to those pictures and letters so she could try to figure out if her mother had done something as terrible and unforgivable as she feared.

“Grab your bag, Laney-bug,” Rafe said.

Vera managed to clamber to her feet, which took considerable effort. “Why don't you leave our little girl here with me? It's getting late already, and you'll just have to bring her back tomorrow morning. If she stays, we can both sleep in a bit.”

“But you've had her every night this weekend,” he said.

She waved his words away. “Doesn't matter. You spent some great time with her today, and you've got to work at first light.”

Rafe tilted Laney's face up so he could look into it. “You want to stay another night, bug?”

She put her head on his shoulder as if she'd rather go home, but her grandmother knew just how to counteract her reluctance.

“You have yet to take a bath and play with that shark toy I bought you, remember?”

Immediately, her head popped up. “I forgot!” she said, squirming to get down. “Can I take a bath right now?”