Summer Secrets (27 page)

And it is everything I deserve. As I stand here, my cheeks burning, grateful only that my daughter is not witness to this, that she and Sam are no longer in the restaurant, but standing in the car park, waiting for me to emerge from the bathroom, doubtless wondering where I am, I know that this is it. The penance I have waited all these years to pay.

Twenty-nine

I don’t know how I manage to get out of there, but I do, aware that everyone is staring at me. I keep my head held high and look straight ahead, eyes focused on the car park I can see beyond the open door, refusing to look to the left or right, refusing to acknowledge the pitying glances.

“What happened?” whispers Sam, who can see I am upset, almost on the verge of tears, but I shake my head, knowing that if I try to speak, I will probably burst into tears.

“Migraine,” I say, which saves me from having to speak all the way home. I go straight upstairs and get into bed, playing the conversation over and over, shuddering in humiliation and horror each time I hit the replay button.

Annie texts me that she’s going out with Trudy. I should say no, particularly after tonight, but I can’t stop this relationship, not now that these two girls have found each other. I need to talk to Julia, need to download this horror onto someone who will understand, someone who may know what I could do to smooth the waters, if not for me, at least for Annie and Trudy, because they have to continue seeing each other and we can’t keep it a secret. Ellie is bound to find out.

Secrets have a habit of rising to the surface, like milk gone sour.

*   *   *

I wake up with an emotional hangover so heavy and disturbing that for a few seconds I feel like I must have been drinking the night before. I replay it again, and am grateful that in the bright morning light it doesn’t feel so bad.

Yes, it was humiliating, but it’s not like this happened in front of anyone I knew. This was clearly the most dramatic and possibly entertaining thing the people in the restaurant last night had seen in years, but I don’t know them; they don’t know me. It really doesn’t matter.

I think of something I heard someone say in a meeting once: Other people’s behavior is none of my business. Whatever they must have thought of me has nothing to do with me. It doesn’t matter. What Ellie thinks of me is another thing, but really, what did I expect? That she, like Julia, would fling her arms around me and proclaim her forgiveness?

Well, yes. Sheepishly I realize I was holding out for some kind of dramatic transformation. I need to let go, I think, taking a deep breath and picking up my phone to look at the time. I can squeeze in a meeting, I realize, and nothing straightens me out, reminds me of what’s important, better than a meeting.

Throwing back the sheets, I climb out of bed and go to get dressed.

*   *   *

The Tuesday meeting is exactly what I needed, and even though I don’t share today, by the time I leave, I am centered and calm.

Sam texts me that he’s taking Annie to the Downyflake for blueberry pancakes, and a man from the meeting, Stew, gives me a ride there. I walk in and see the two of them there, how grown-up Annie suddenly looks, her skin golden and glowing, her eyes lit up with excitement, and I am filled with love and gratitude.

To hell with Ellie. Look at what I have! Look at my wonderful daughter, my best friend, the life I have managed to build for myself in spite of everything. I walk to the table and give Annie a squeeze, sliding into the empty seat next to her, and I listen to her bubble with joy as she tells Sam about the beach party last night, a bunch of them over at some water tower off Cliff Road.

At least they weren’t far.

Most of the kids are at least sixteen, although she assures me there are a couple of younger ones like her. But they are all so lovely, she says. So curious about this new English girl Trudy introduced as her cousin.

“So what do you do at a beach party?” asks Sam as he pours maple syrup over his pancakes. “Are you all snogging?”

“Ew! No! Sam, that’s gross!” she says, although she turns red, and Sam meets my eye with a knowing smile. “We just talk,” she says quickly. “And, I don’t know. Hang out.”

I think of the giggling kids I have seen all over town. “Were there any drugs?”

“Mom!” she says. “Don’t be daft. Of course not!”

“Sorry.” I shrug, masking my skepticism. “I had to ask.”

*   *   *

After breakfast Annie comes with us to the bicycle store. We rent three bikes and take off round the island, stopping from time to time to consult the maps. I marvel again, as I did all those years ago, at how such a tiny island can have so many things. The charm and beauty of Sconset, the quaintness of Main Street, the rugged beauty of the working boats bobbing in Madaket Harbor.

We pick up sandwiches at Something Natural and take them to Steps Beach for lunch. At two o’clock, Annie gets a text, and I watch her read it, her face falling.

“What’s the matter?” I lean over, concerned. “Is everything okay?”

She looks up at me, her face stricken. “It’s Trudy. She says she’s not allowed to see me anymore.”

And she bursts into tears.

*   *   *

I call Julia, wanting to know why Ellie is behaving like this, if Julia can talk to her but she doesn’t pick up.

How do I explain?

How do I tell my child that the reason she is being ostracized is because of me, because I did something so unforgivable, that all these years later I am still paying the price?

But more than that, she is paying the price.

Any way you slice it, that just doesn’t seem fair.

I do what I had been planning to do last night, when I got home, when I suspected that the confrontation with Ellie would have ramifications. I go back home, get changed, and go and see Julia.

“I heard,” she says as soon as I walk in the store, happy that Julia is there and that she is on her own. “
Everyone
heard,” she says ruefully. “I think the whole island is talking about Ellie’s outburst last night. It definitely provided a drama that will doubtless keep them all going for days. Possibly weeks.” She peers at me. “You’re not okay. I’m sorry. I really am. I was hoping you and Ellie would be able to avoid each other.”

“But I don’t understand. She knew I was here. You told her.” Julia looks away and for a second I wonder if she was telling me the truth, but why would she lie? “She has changed her mind about the girls being friends and is refusing to let them see each other.”

“What?” To my relief, Julia is as horrified as I was. “But that’s insane. And wrong. She may not want to see you, but to get in the way of their relationship is just
wrong
.”

“I know. And Annie’s heart is breaking. I left her at home in floods of tears. Julia, I don’t know what to do. I understand that Ellie will never forgive me, but I can’t bear for the girls to be split apart. Can you do anything? Say anything to make her change her mind?”

“Absolutely. You just need to allow her to let off steam. She’ll be fine after a few hours. I’ll drop in later and talk to her. She didn’t mean it. Whatever she feels about you I know she wouldn’t punish Trudy like that.”

In the old days, I might have considered lying, but deception hasn’t felt very good to me since I got sober. When I was drinking, my life was filled with white lies and half truths and stories I told to save myself. I learned to be honest, open, and willing through my sobriety, learned that rigorous honesty was one of the keys to my life being as good as it is today.

Lying, withholding the truth, feels wrong. I need Julia to get Ellie’s permission for this friendship to continue, and I have to trust she will be able to do so.

Do any of us, Ellie included, have the right to ban this friendship? Isn’t it better for everyone, and certainly for the girls, that they are allowed to continue discovering each other?

My mind is whirling; I offer a quick prayer that Ellie will come round.

“You think you can change her mind?”

“I’ve always managed it in the past. We’ll figure it out. In the meantime I’d like to get to know Annie too. I know she was supposed to see Trudy tonight. Do you think maybe I could take her out?”

“That would be amazing! She would love it!” I give Julia a huge hug, thinking how lucky I am that Julia is still as wonderful as she always was.

*   *   *

I leave and walk up to the flower stand on Main Street to pick up flowers for Abigail, then to the supermarket for a couple of bottles of sparkling apple cider in place of wine, then come back and crawl into bed for an afternoon nap, which feels like the most delicious luxury of all.

I wake up and plot Annie’s evening with her. We will drop her at Julia’s on the way to Abigail’s house, where she will spend the evening getting to know her aunt. Annie isn’t quite as excited as she was about Trudy, but it’s a close second.

After a shower, I stand in my room having a full-on clothes crisis: jeans, a linen shirt? Too hot. A floaty skirt? Better. Not with the linen shirt, though. A silky tank? Yes. Necklace? Too much. Smaller necklace? Still wrong. Gold hoops. Perfect. He’s tall, Abigail’s son, or so she said, so I could wear wedges. But I hate wedges. I only bought them because there was a fantastic sale in Russell & Bromley and I fell in love with them, even though I couldn’t walk in them.

No.

Flip-flops.

Yes. That’s it.

I am excited. I shouldn’t be, I know that being excited is only a recipe for disappointment, that having expectations of any kind is pointless. But it’s not really about meeting this man and truly thinking we both might be struck by a bolt of lightning; more about dressing up, about the
possibility,
the realization that after all this time, all these months and months of hoping that Jason and I might find a way back together, I might actually be ready to meet someone new.

Those moments when I think Jason might still have feelings for me are just that, I realize: moments. He probably still does have feelings for me—you don’t spend years with someone, have a beautiful baby together, know almost everything about the other without having some feelings for her, surely.

At least, in our case. It wasn’t like I had an affair, or he did something awful, so one of us decided to hate the other forever and ever. My alcoholism was awful, but the one thing I absolutely believe to be true is that Jason never saw it as my fault. It’s the first thing you learn when you get sober. Alcoholism is a disease, a sickness. You can love the person without loving the disease, and this is how it was for me and Jason. More so, I think, because he’s a recovering alcoholic himself.

(A more successful one than I, clearly.)

Those moments when our eyes lock, or when I feel my heart flutter, I know he has separated the woman I am from my behavior, my drinking. I just don’t know that he’ll ever be able to forgive me. And I don’t blame him. I have made my amends, but with Jason it is a living amends. I have to show him I’ve changed by how I raise my daughter, how I interact with him, the choices I make every second of every day.

But until this relationship with Cara, I thought,
hoped,
if I behaved well enough, if I proved to him just how much I had changed, we would get back together. It seemed so simple.

I didn’t want to meet anyone else. I didn’t want to be with anyone else. But suddenly the possibilities have opened up. For the first time since my marriage ended, I could imagine myself with someone else.

We’re not talking marriage here. Not even dating. Well, maybe dating. But sex! My God! Suddenly, in the sunshine, it is as if my libido has been switched back on. Who knows what the son is like, but really, does it much matter? If he’s cute and sexy and fun, maybe I’ll have a summer fling! Maybe he’ll remind me what it feels like to be young, single, and free.

I call Sam and Annie, and we three troop out to the car.

*   *   *

Abigail greets me at the door of her quaint shingled house and gives me a proper, tight hug before turning to Sam and doing the same thing.

She takes the sparkling cider and the flowers, and ushers us into the kitchen, as we admire the coziness of her cottage.

“I’ve been here forever,” she says. “Almost everything you see is from the Take It or Leave It Pile.”

I fling my hands up in the air. “Okay. You got me. What on earth
is
the Take It or Leave It Pile?”

“It’s at the dump. Everyone on the island leaves anything they want to get rid of there. It used to be a tiny little thing, but now it’s a barnful. Sofas, tables, beds. There’s not a day I’ve been when I haven’t found something useful.”

“What did you find yesterday?”

“This stool.” She points to a small wooden stool with flowers painted on it. “Can you imagine someone getting rid of that? Isn’t it lovely? Ah well. Their loss is my gain.”

I peer hopefully around the small cottage, wondering where the son is. Then the back door opens and in walks a tall man, and I find myself smiling and taking a step backward, because although I had thought how lovely it would be if he turned out to be utterly gorgeous, I didn’t actually think he would be.

Those fantasies never come true. Except for today.

I turn to look at Sam, who is also gazing at this very masculine, handsome man who is walking toward us with a smile and an outstretched hand.

He is wearing shorts and a polo shirt, and he smells of soap, and clean, and he has perfect white teeth and dimples in his cheeks and short, tousled mousy hair that makes you want to reach up and ruffle it.

His shoulders are broad, his forearms strong. My hand in his makes me feel completely safe and looked after, and looking into those soft brown eyes I almost forget to speak.

“Cat,” I manage to get out, just as the back door opens again and a second man walks in, with an equally big smile, and I falter, because I must have got this wrong. It’s the other guy that’s the son, surely. This handsome one is some kind of ringer, it’s the friend, or the plumber. He looks like a plumber.

“Hi!” says the other guy with a wave. He looks nice, but nothing like the Greek god in front of me. “I’m Billy.”