Follow the Stars Home (36 page)

She held her daughter closer. The voices were music,
along with the gentle waves. If only this feeling could last forever: the warm sun, the soft breeze, the sense of togetherness. The summer was ending; next week, it would be September. As Dianne listened to her mother and Amy laugh, she held Julia tighter.

Would she stay if she could? If she could make a new wish, prolong this moment forever, would she? Black sand felt warmer than any other kind. It pulled in the heat, held the sun in its dark grains. Dianne thought of the shooting stars, of the excitement she had felt about seeing Alan again. But didn't she have it all here, everything she could ever want, on this rare and amazing beach?

Did she need any other kind of love?

She had her daughter, her mother, their friend, this beautiful castle…. If only she could stop the tide from coming in, washing it away. Lucinda stood, brushing sand from her hands. As usual, she got out her camera and took a picture. Time was flying; they would have to rush to the ferry. The puppy ran in mad circles, knowing he had to get back inside the camper.

“Come on, Orion,” Amy laughed. “Want a drink of water? Follow me.”

“Forty minutes,” Lucinda said. “That's how much time we have to make our boat. If we miss it, we're staying on this island for good. You'll never get me off.”

Dianne hesitated. What if she took her time? She could drag her feet, make them late. They could stay in this enchanted place, she wouldn't have to return home and face her feelings, reality would never come again.

“Gaaa,” Julia said.

“Go, honey?” Dianne asked. “Is that what you're telling me?”

“Gleee,” Julia said.

Julia's sounds. Julia's words had no translation, but to Dianne they were filled with meaning. Just like the splashing waves, the whispering sand, the crying gulls. Everything in nature meant something, alive with private poetry for any person willing to listen. Julia was braver than her mother. She was telling her to go, return to Hawthorne, see what the future held.

Lifting Julia, Dianne began to walk toward the dunes. The tide was out, and it wouldn't begin to flood for another few hours. They'd be on the ferry to Nova Scotia by then, on their way home. Holding her daughter, Dianne was grateful they wouldn't have to see their black sand castle wash into the sea.

And soon she would be with Alan.

Malachy kept the telephone turned off most of the time when he was working. He didn't want the music of the dolphins having to compete with bells ringing. But soon after he plugged in the cord, he picked up a call from Alan.

“You missed your brother,” Malachy said. “He's out provisioning his boat for the trip back to Maine. He should be back within the hour.”

“He's leaving?” Alan asked. “When?”

“When?” Malachy said, watching a pair of loons fish the harbor. Attuned to shades of meaning in dolphin talk, he picked up a strange mixture of disappointment and relief in Alan's voice. “Why don't you ask him when he calls you back? I'll give him the message.”

“Tell me, Mal,” Alan said, sounding urgent. “What's his plan?”

“Jaysus,” Malachy said. “You want an affidavit?
He's departing the dock on the dawn tide. What's the matter?”

“I'll tell you, Malachy,” Alan said, sounding short. “Dianne's vacationing up there, and I gave her your number and told her to look you up. I don't want her walking into a big mess with Tim. She doesn't need that.”

“She's a grown girl,” Malachy said. “Maybe that's just what she needs. You let her fight her own battles. Or make her own peace. It's not for you to control.”

“Malachy,” Alan began.

“You listen to me,” Malachy said. “If she's meant to be yours, you'll know it. Manipulating the situation with Tim won't do you any good. Let nature take its course, let God's will be done, however you want to put it. But don't ask me to get in the middle of your blasted love triangle. I care about all of you too much to do that.”

“Okay,” Alan said, staring out the window at Hawthorne harbor. He knew Malachy was right. But that did nothing for the knot in his stomach, the fear that Dianne and Tim might see each other after all this time and remember what they'd once had. Alan was far away, and there was nothing he could do.

Traveling across Nova Scotia to the ferry that would take them back to the mainland, Julia had a seizure. Her body went rigid, she bit her tongue until it bled, and she thrashed for two full minutes. Amy began to scream, and the animals hid under the bunk beds. Pulling off the road, Dianne nearly drove the Winnebago into a ditch.

“Julia,” Dianne said, trying to hold her. Blood and foam gushed from the girl's mouth, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

“What's wrong, what's happening?” Amy cried.

“Dianne, here's a spoon,” Lucinda said, trying to force a spoon into Julia's mouth. “We have to hold down her tongue, keep her from swallowing it.”

“Away!” Dianne screamed. “Get Amy out of here and leave us. I know what I'm doing, Mom. That'll just hurt her. Give me room. Get out!”

Shaken, Lucinda helped Amy out of the camper. Dianne heard their voices, Amy's upset and Lucinda's soothing. Dianne had never been through this before, but Alan had warned her to watch for seizures. He
had told her never to put a hard object into Julia's mouth while she was seizing, that it could break her teeth or damage the soft tissue. Dianne just had to hold her and wait. The seizure was stopping. Her muscles let go. Her body twitched once more. The child sighed.

Dianne wanted to weep. She wanted to apologize to her mother for yelling, make sure Amy was okay. She wanted to set everything straight that Julia had kicked over-a bottle of fruit juice, a pile of guidebooks. But she knew something bad was happening, and she had to get Julia help.

“Mom!” she called.

Lucinda and Amy came back, standing in the doorway.

“Drive, Mom,” Dianne said, rocking Julia. “Get us to a hospital.”

Nodding, Lucinda climbed behind the wheel. Nova Scotia was rural, breathtakingly beautiful. Fields of flowers spread in all directions. Distant blue hills stretched toward the sea. Tall pines cast long shadows on the road, but there were no towns in sight. Amy read the map, directing Lucinda as best she could.

“Honey,” Lucinda said after ten miles. “Tell me what to do.”

“Find a pay phone,” Dianne said. Julia lay in her lap, trembling. Her breathing was shallow and her skin tone was pale. Her eyelids flickered as if she were having a deep dream, but she wasn't waking up. Dianne felt primal fear in the pit of her stomach, as if she and her baby were lost in the wilderness.

The next rest area had four phone booths. Lucinda held Julia with Amy hovering beside while Dianne ran out. Her heart was pounding, and she felt so panicked, she couldn't think straight. Did
Canada have 911 emergency service? Where would she tell them to come if they did? Hands shaking, she remembered Malachy's number.

“Is that you again?” he snapped as soon as he picked up the phone. “I thought I told you, it's between your brother—”

“Malachy!” Dianne cried. “It's Dianne Robbins. I'm on Nova Scotia, and—”

“Slow down, Dianne,” he said, his voice changing. “I know you're here. I heard all about it. Now, what's wrong? What has you sounding so frightened?”

“My daughter's sick, Malachy,” she said. “I need to get her to a hospital, and I don't know where to go—”

“Tell me where you are.”

Dianne did her best. She told him about coming into Pictou, heading west toward Yarmouth, mentioned the last road sign she remembered.

“You want Halifax,” he said. “It's the best, and you're as close to there as anywhere. Can she make it, dear? What's her condition?”

“She's unconscious. She had a seizure. Her pulse is fast, and her …” Dianne burst into tears. Malachy's voice was deep and kind, and he made her think of how her father might sound.

“I know she's had the devil of a time, poor little girl,” he said. “You just get her to Halifax, and we'll meet you at the hospital. Are you okay to drive?”

“I think so,” Dianne said. “For Julia I'll make myself be okay. Thanks, Malachy. I'm glad I called you.”

It was only after she hung up that she stopped to wonder who Malachy would be meeting her with, and how Malachy knew she was in the province in the first place.

“Lunenburg's nice,” Tim said, coming aboard the tugboat with an armload of groceries. “Pretty town. Maybe I should-” One look at Malachy's expression, and he knew something was wrong.

“It's your daughter, Tim,” he said. “She's in a bad way.”

“Julia …” Tim said, stunned.

“Dianne just called.”

“Called
here?”
Tim asked.

It had to be serious. Malachy's ruddy face was mournful, his eyes deep and sad. Of course, he was Irish, and he could look tragic at anything, at thick fog or melting ice cream. Still, Tim swallowed hard and waited to hear. He had been running a long time, but that didn't mean he didn't think about her, that baby he'd left. His heart was pounding.

“She has suffered,” Malachy said.

“I know.”

“Suffered terribly,” Malachy said. “Life should never be so hard for a little girl. It shouldn't be so hard for any mother, or any father. Put those groceries down and come on.”

“What?” Tim asked.

“You're coming to Halifax with me. That's where they are.”

“Halifax, Nova Scotia?” Tim asked, shocked. “Just up the road?”

“That's the place,” Malachy said. “Your brother Alan's been busting a gut trying to contact you. Dianne's vacationing up here, and the child had a seizure. Now, grab your jacket, and—”

“I can't,” Tim said in shock.

“The hell you can't,” Malachy said, shoving his arm. “She's your daughter, Tim. Whatever Dianne's
facing, she'll face it better with Julia's father by her side. Put your stupid pride aside and act like a man. For the girl's sake.”

“I want to,” Tim said. “But I can't.” He was picturing Dianne the last time he'd seen her: nine months pregnant, tears flowing down her face, pulling on his hand as she'd begged him to stay. He had spent eleven years sailing away from that memory, and he could only imagine what she had done. For her sake, he didn't want to enter her life again.

“For God's sake, Tim,” Malachy said. “You're a ghost as it is. Haunting your own life! What kind of life is it, pulling lobster pots for any company'll have you? You've got no family, not even Alan anymore. You've got no home port, you've got no love. This is your chance, Tim.”

Tim stood frozen, eyes closed as if he could block the whole thing out.

“Are you blind, son? It's a miracle, that's what it is. Your daughter needs you right now, and you're right here. You think these things happen by chance?”

“I don't know,” Tim said.

“Well, I do,” Malachy said, glaring at him. “And they don't. This is your chance, maybe your last chance. If I could have one minute, one
second
, with Gabriel and Brigid, I'd give the rest of my life. Grab it, Tim!”