East Hope (18 page)

A couple moved toward him from the water. They approached him without talking, and Will saw that they were dressed alike in baggy shorts, navy sweatshirts, and Teva sandals on their suntanned feet. The man wore a limp old-fashioned tennis hat, and the woman, hatless, had a sensible cap of steely gray hair. A large swaybacked Lab pranced between them, his face goofy with joy from their walk.

“Evening,” the man said.

Will said hello to them and they exchanged a few friendly words, agreeing that the fog seemed to be lifting. The couple continued on to the parking area, and Will envied them the comfortable silence that seemed to knit them together. Tired from his run, he started to walk toward the fog, as if drawn toward an oasis at the far end of the beach. In addition to the ocean, a distant hum, he heard two foghorns, each a separate pitch that seemed to call out to the other in a mournful wail.

A few minutes later he saw a figure coming toward him out of the mist. Gradually he saw that it was a woman, her head bent and her arms drawn protectively across her chest. He rubbed his own arms, trying to bring warmth where the sweat had evaporated.

As she approached he saw her red hair. “Hello, there,” he called out, having recognized Caroline Waverly.

She drew closer and her face came into focus. “Lovely beach, isn't it?” she said.

Will felt his mood lift at the sight of Caroline and he turned around and fell into step alongside her. “My first time here,” he said. “I was about to turn back. No sense walking into the fog. Do you come here often?”

“I only just discovered it,” she said. “My contractor, Vern, told me how to get here.”

“How's the porch project?” he asked. His mind jumped back to the pleasant morning in Caroline's kitchen.

She told him about the work going on at her house, all the while her stride keeping up with his. Though she seemed a little subdued, her tone was pleasant. “It's taking so much longer than I ever thought.” Caroline kept her gaze fixed on the water as they walked back to the beach entrance. Her face looked damp, and Will wondered briefly if she'd been crying or if it was only moist from the fog. He told her about his day at the store, hoping to amuse her with a few anecdotes. He described the two snooty ladies who had come in the previous evening, and how he had gotten the idea to order some new books. Before he knew it they had reached her car.

“Would you like a ride back?” she asked.

“Yeah, that'd be great,” he said, pleased to have more time with her. He opened the door to the passenger seat and watched as she removed a tan sweater, a notebook, and a pen from the seat, tossing them into the back. Her hair was curlier than he remembered and streaked with blond or maybe white. They drove in silence down the dirt road.

“Look there,” Caroline said suddenly. She stopped the car and pointed into the woods. A mother deer and her baby stood watching them. The doe, in a proprietary gesture, nuzzled the ear of her fawn, barely two feet tall and flecked in white spots. A moment later they disappeared into the trees. As if caught in a trance, Caroline remained still, staring at the clearing where the animals had stood. Will could hear Caroline's breathing. A weighted silence fell between them.

“Are you okay?” he finally said.

“Sorry,” she said. She removed her foot from the brake and continued to the main road. When they reached 219 Caroline picked up her speed and continued in the direction of Taunton's Used Books. Will couldn't think of what to say after seeing the deer. She seemed unreachable, their easy conversation no longer possible. It was as if the last remnants of the fog on the beach had worked their way into the car. A few minutes later they arrived at the store.

“Would you like to come in?” he said, surprised by his own invitation. “Maybe a drink?”

For a moment she looked young again, less preoccupied than she had walking by the water. “Thanks. That's nice of you, but I really need to get back.”

“Sure,” he said. He got out of the car and leaned down to the window. “Some other time maybe?” Will tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

“Of course.” Caroline smiled briefly. Her face took on a distant expression again. “Some other time.”

Will stepped away from the car as she drove away. What was he doing anyway? He was married. But he was lonely and the long weekend loomed. He thought of Mary Beth in New York. She was seeing friends. Why shouldn't he?

In their last few years in Habliston, when Mary Beth had been commuting from New York, they saw less of the friends they shared as a couple, other younger members of the faculty. When they first moved to the college they had gone to the monthly English department happy hours and had been part of an international supper club, a series of potluck dinners celebrating different world cuisines. In the months when Will was on his own he had remained close to Alice Field, from his department, and her husband. Also, Jack Mathews and his wife had invited him to dinner fairly often. He had enjoyed spending time with them.

It wouldn't be hard to make new friends now in East Hope. Martha and her husband from the café had asked him to join the small-business advisory committee. He was getting to know Edna Raymond, the town librarian, whom he'd met when he first came to town. Why couldn't he be friends with Caroline? They were both here for the summer. They were both “from away.” He looked at the white house across the bay, what he thought of as her house now. Though it was not yet dark, the moon was full in the clear sky.

V
ivien had taken her suitcase upstairs and changed into flowing linen trousers and a big cotton shirt, and now she stood looking about her in the dining room. “What a great place.” Her voice filled the room. “Amazing views.” After weeks alone, Caroline was unaccustomed to the sounds of another person moving about in Lila's house.

Caroline carried a second bowl of fish chowder in from the kitchen and set it down at her place. She had met Vivien's plane at the Bangor airport late that afternoon. There had been thunderstorms and the flight had been over an hour late. Fortunately she had made the chowder ahead of time except for adding the fish, which they'd picked up at the fish market on the way home from the airport. While the fish cooked she made a green salad and baked the cheddar biscuits, one of Lila's recipes. By the time dinner was ready the big clock in the hall had chimed eight.

“It's good to have you here,” Caroline said as she pulled back her chair.

Vivien sat down before her own bowl of steaming soup and sniffed appreciatively. “This smells divine.”

“I hope it's good.” Caroline took a sip. “Thanks for bringing all the gourmet treats. It's hard to find good olive oil locally.”

“You certainly have fresh fish.” Vivien started into the hearty chowder. Caroline imagined Vivien's brain at work cataloging each ingredient. Caroline had always enjoyed having what they called “food chat” together, except that tonight it felt forced. Overtired from the hours in the car, she was unable to taste her own soup, though lately her sense of smell had been keen, another sign of pregnancy.

“Gorgeous little potatoes. Is this a new recipe?”

“It is.” Caroline told Vivien about Lila's recipes and her collection of cookbooks. “One book is over a hundred years old.”

“I can't imagine what you'd want to cook from that.”

“You'd be surprised,” Caroline said. “This recipe came from a book printed sometime during the Second World War. It talks about shortages and substitutes. It's fascinating to see which recipes still work and what you can do to update some of the dishes.”

“Remakes of vintage recipes.”

“Exactly.” Caroline passed Vivien the basket of biscuits.

“Your kitchen here is vintage too.” She broke open a biscuit. “Doesn't seem to hurt the finished product.”

“I'm afraid my funds won't cover any remodeling.”

“Whoever buys the house will probably rip it all out and start over.”

Caroline set down her spoon. “You're right, though I kind of like it the way it is.” She buttered a biscuit. The last of the sun had gone and the dining room fell into shadow. The summer solstice had passed and now the days were growing shorter. A wave of cooler Canadian air had blown in after the rainstorm. Vivien would experience some of the best of Maine weather.

“The wine's nice with this.” Vivien raised her glass. “You're not drinking?” Caroline had poured sparkling water into her own glass. She still had not found the right moment to tell Vivien that she was pregnant.

“I'll have some later,” Caroline said, and stirred her soup distractedly. “I decided to do the book by categories instead of by vegetable. It's easier to keep to a section on soups or salads rather than always trying to determine the predominant vegetable in a recipe. You know, do you put vichyssoise under potatoes or leeks?”

“Let's talk about work tomorrow.” Vivien fixed her gaze on Caroline. “I really came here to see how you're doing.”

“You can see for yourself that the house is wonderful.” Caroline looked appreciatively at the dining room, sparely furnished, but elegant. “I'll be sad to give it up. This house makes Lila come alive for me. It's kind of like she's pulling me into her world.”

“You can't afford to be sentimental,” Vivien said quickly. “I'm sorry. That wasn't the best way to put it. Come on; have some wine.” She pushed the bottle across the table. “It's no fun to drink alone.”

“Rob called the other day. He was so happy and talkative,” she said, hoping Vivien would forget about the wine. “They're out now on a three-week rafting trip. I'm missing him a lot more than he's missing me.”

“Nineteen-year-old boys aren't supposed to be missing their mothers,” Vivien said.

“He's bringing a girlfriend home in August.”

“Do I detect a note of jealousy?”

“Of course not.” She put her spoon down, almost too tired to eat.

Vivien looked at Caroline with the piercing gaze of someone wanting to get to the bottom of something. “Are you all right?”

“I'm a little tired. Besides writing, there's been so much to clean out and—”

“You know, you don't seem like yourself. I understand you're missing Rob. I mean, Harry is gone and now—”

“It's not just that,” Caroline said.

Vivien sat back in her chair and waited.

Caroline wiped her mouth and put her napkin on the table. “I'm pregnant,” she said.

Vivien stared across the table, her eyes widening in astonishment and then slowly darkening as they registered understanding. “Pete?”

Caroline nodded and looked away. The entire situation felt like some sort of sordid soap opera. This kind of thing didn't happen in her world.

“Oh, my poor girl.” Vivien got up and came around the table and took Caroline by the shoulders. “Don't worry. We'll figure something out.” She continued to pat Caroline on the back with her wide, competent hands.

Caroline felt a rush of relief. Every muscle in her body seemed to loosen away from her bones. Thank God for Vivien's visit.

“Come with me.” Vivien took the bottle of wine from the table and filled a glass for Caroline. “This isn't going to hurt you. We've got to talk.” Caroline followed her into the living room. “I thought it was just that once,” Vivien said, handing her the glass of wine. “Why did you let yourself get involved with him?”

“It
was
only that one night. All those years when I couldn't get pregnant with Harry, and now this. It never crossed my mind. I loved Harry. Oh, God. How could this have happened?” She took a sip of the wine and collapsed onto the sofa. The wine tasted awful. She put it down and no longer held back her tears. “I'm forty-four years old, a widow, and running out of money.”

Vivien sat beside her. “You're absolutely sure?”

Caroline nodded. “I did a home test a few days ago. You'll think I'm crazy. My body has been in such a state. I never even considered this. Ever since I've been in Maine I've had this heightened sense of smell.” She pulled a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose. “I'd been feeling slightly queasy, and then I remembered I hadn't had my period. You must think I'm an idiot.”

“How far along?”

“Seven weeks.” Caroline lost herself again to her tears. She held her head in her hands and cried like she hadn't since the morning she'd been told of Harry's heart attack. It was like an unstoppable force; she could hardly breathe.

Vivien went out of the room and returned with an entire box of tissues. She patted Caroline's back again. “Here. Wipe your face.”

Caroline was relieved to be told what to do. She wiped her face and nose and eventually regained her composure. “I can't have this baby. It would upset everyone.”

“I know. I know.” Vivien handed her more tissues.

“I don't love Pete. He's been good to me. That's not enough.” Her words came out in short bursts. “I don't want to break up his marriage. And Rob? My God. What would he think?” Her tears started to flow again. She leaned back and rolled her head from side to side on the sofa.

“I'll help you,” Vivien said. “We'll call your doctor in Washington. It's not too late. You can fly home with me on Monday.”

“I keep thinking of Grace. I can't go through that again.” She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and held her face in her hands.

Vivien patted Caroline's back again and smoothed the hair away from her face. Eventually Vivien was able to calm her, and they made their way back to the dining room. Vivien resumed eating her dinner and began to formulate the exact plan that would set all this to rights. It was as if Vivien had become her mother. Vivien was very much a take-charge kind of person. When they had first worked together it was Vivien who planned the projects and directed Caroline, advising her on how to go about her work. Later, as Caroline gained confidence, she made more decisions on her own, and Vivien's directives could verge on bossiness. Tonight Caroline did not have the heart to question or raise lingering doubts. The emotional turmoil of the past few days had taken its toll.