The Guest Cottage (32 page)

“Hello, everyone.” Hester walked into the room, pulling off her head scarf. “You all look busy.”

“Mother. I didn’t expect you back so soon,” Sophie said, sharing a quick glance of disappointment with Trevor.

Hester pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “Connor’s lab work won’t be ready for another day or two. I tried to rush them, but they’re backed up as usual, and it’s not an emergency. They did bandage his foot properly. He’s wearing a walking boot for a few days. When we get all the lab work back, we’ll work with a physician here and start him on some kind of medication.”

“Grandmother, we went to Great Point today!” Lacey babbled. “We saw seals! Jonah drove the Jeep!”

Sophie’s mind was still caught on her mother’s announcement. She asked, weakly,
“We?”

“That’s wonderful, Lacey,” Hester replied to her granddaughter. “I hope you took photos.” To Sophie, she said, “Yes,
we.
I promised Connor I’d stay here for a while to help him start his medication and begin a new cooking and exercise regime.”

“That’s awfully good of you, Mother, but what about work?”

Hester shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of leave coming. I’ve already spoken with the supervisor. I could use a spot of vacation myself.”

“But Mother,” Sophie protested, “we’ve only got three more days left in this house. I mean, I’m sure Susie—or Ivan—wouldn’t mind if you remained here a couple of days more after that. But I don’t even know how to get in touch with them, or whether or not they’ve made plans for the house starting September first.”

“That’s fine,” Hester said calmly. “I’ll go back up to Boston when you do. I’ve invited Connor to come up and stay with me while he gets a complete physical.”

“Stay with you?” Sophie echoed.

“Dude,” Jonah muttered.

Hester blushed. It might have been the first time Sophie had ever realized her mother
could
blush. “Connor is a lovely and intelligent man. I would like to be certain he’s on a routine toward better health. Also—” Now Hester blushed pinker and
smiled
— “I thought he might enjoy seeing some of Boston.”

“Well, Mom, that’s awfully nice of you,” Sophie said.

Hester shot Sophie one of her looks. “I
do
have a guest room, you know.” Softening, she added, “And I do enjoy his company.”

DAH-dum dum dum.

Trevor sat up in bed and allowed himself a moment to calm his nerves. He’d awakened from a deep sleep to the notes from the piano and his heart was racing.

Leo was getting so much better. Trevor had thought so, at least. Leo no longer insisted on putting on clothes in a certain order. He allowed Sophie to make his sandwiches. But this was too much, this entire summer of sleepwalking and obsessive, repetitive key-banging. Trevor rose with a sinking heart. What would happen when they returned to Boston? Leo was asking for a piano, but should he have one?

Trevor headed barefoot down the stairs. When he got to the music room, he was surprised to see Sophie already there, kneeling next to Leo. Trevor stopped in the doorway, listening.

“Leo,” Sophie was saying, “I think I know what song you’re playing.”

Leo aimed his large eyes at Sophie and even in the semidarkness Trevor could see the hope in his son’s face, in his entire body. “You do?”

“Is it this?” Sophie slid onto the piano bench and placed her hands on the keys. Softly, she played the opening bars to the Irving Berlin song made so famous by Ethel Merman. “There’s NO Business Like SHOW Business,” she played, quietly singing the words.

Leo nodded vigorously, almost hopping with excitement. “That’s Mommy’s song! Play more.”

Sophie played the song through, singing most of the words, fudging the ones she didn’t remember.

“That’s Mommy’s song,” Leo said again. “She sang that to me all the time. She said to remember that song. No matter what happens, she said, go on and have fun.”

“That’s right,” Sophie said. “Your mommy was a smart lady. Leo, would you like me to teach you to play the song?”

“Okay,” Leo said, and began to crawl up onto Sophie’s lap.

Trevor started to intervene—it was three thirty in the morning. But Sophie took the boy in her arms, settled him, and said, “We have to be very quiet so we don’t wake people. I’ll put my hand over yours. I’ll press your fingers on the keys.”

Trevor stood watching. Slowly, and terribly, Sophie and Leo played, “There’s NO Business like SHOW Business.”

“Again,” Leo demanded.

“Not tonight, Leo,” Sophie said.

Trevor held his breath, expecting a tantrum.

“You know,” Sophie continued, “this song is meant to be played and sung really loudly, as loud as you can be. And we can’t do that tonight, can we? We’d wake everyone up.”

Leo thought a minute. “Okay. Can we do it tomorrow?”

“Sure, honey-bunny,” Sophie assured the boy. “We can do it a lot tomorrow.”

Leo slid off Sophie’s lap and ran to Trevor. “I’m ready to go to bed now, Daddy. I have my song.”

T
he end of the summer arrived with the swift chaos of a wave rolling in to crash onto the shore. Sophie and Trevor had to share a marathon of laundry, packing, organizing, cleaning out the cupboards, searching beneath beds, sofas, and desks for lost socks, filling a box of staples—sugar, flour, spices—to take down for Connor to use. Trevor couldn’t find a way to reach Ivan, and when Sophie tried Susie Swenson’s cell phone, no one answered. Trevor had to run to the grocery store to find cardboard boxes for all the Legos people had given Leo over the summer. He and Sophie had a conference with the three kids to figure out whether various games—Clue, Monopoly, Ticket to Ride—belonged to one of the families or had been on the shelf in the house.

Sophie assumed her practical, efficient, Mother would help organize and pack, but Hester spent much of her time with Connor, driving him into town for short walks and lunch, or out to one of the beaches to drink wine while watching the sunset.

“I’m amazed at my mother,” Sophie said one evening after she and Trevor had gotten the children in bed. They were sitting on the patio, lights off in the kitchen, enjoying some private time being alone together in the dark.

“Why?” Trevor asked.

“I’ve never seen her so…mellow. The Hester you’re seeing isn’t the Hester I grew up with.”

“Speaking of…” Trevor lowered his voice. “Look what’s going on now.” He touched her arm gently. “Ssh. Don’t make a move. We don’t want them to know we’re here.”

Following his gaze, Sophie glanced over at Connor’s patio. The older gentleman was holding a blanket over one arm, and holding the door open with the other so that Hester could step out onto the patio. Murmuring quietly, they walked down the lawn to the darkest spot on the property. Connor flipped open the blanket. Hester caught one end and helped spread it out on the grass. Then, gingerly, the two carefully lowered themselves onto the blanket and lay down, staring up at the sky. After a few moments, Connor raised his hand, no doubt pointing out a constellation.

My mother is lying on a blanket with a man who is showing her the stars,
Sophie thought with wonder. She swallowed the large lump that rose in her throat. When Connor reached over to take Hester’s hand, and Hester reached to receive it, Sophie found herself smiling and crying at the same time.

Leaning over to Trevor, she whispered in his ear, “I want to go inside. I sort of feel like we’re spying.”

Quietly, like children on Christmas Eve, Sophie and Trevor slid out of their chairs and crept into the kitchen, leaving the pair on the blanket to watch the stars in privacy.

Two days before they had to leave, Hester was absentminded, Jonah was sulky, Lacey was whiny, and then Leo told his father that he was riding back with Jonah and Lacey.

They were all sitting around the table, finishing a dinner of leftovers. Leo’s announcement brought a stop to the conversation.

Sophie glanced at Trevor. “Leo, honey,” she said gently, “we’d love to have you ride back with us, but I don’t know where you live.”

“We live with you,” Leo told her.

Trevor swallowed. “Leo, on Nantucket, on vacation, we live with the Andersons, but at home we live, well, at home. In our apartment. With the goldfish, remember?” Suddenly a goldfish seemed like a paltry reason to call a place a home.

Leo’s lip quivered. “But I want to live with Lacey and Jonah! Why can’t we live with Lacey and Jonah?”

Trevor was heartsick as he looked at the confused face of his little boy. “Leo, listen, we’ll visit Lacey and Jonah a lot. They’ll visit us. We’ll do a lot of cool things with them. But they have their own house, and we have our own house.”

“But that’s all wrong!” Leo cried. His self-control fell apart. He sagged on his chair, sobbing.

Lacey was crying now, too. “Oh, Mommy, I wish we could adopt Leo.”

Hester, trying to be helpful, said, “Lacey, you’re old enough to know that’s not possible.”

“Oh, Mother, shut up,” Sophie snapped. Her own eyes were welling with tears.

Trevor moved over to embrace his son, trying to pull him onto his lap, but Leo hit out at him, his face red and wet with tears. “No! I want to go with them!” Trevor thought he was going to throw up right then and there. He wanted help, he wanted Sophie to help him, he wanted Lacey and Jonah to reassure Leo, but Leo was his child and his alone, and he was the father, the grown-up, and this was all messed up. He and Sophie hadn’t been able even to kiss for the past three days, since Hester returned. Someone was always in the room with them, or about to enter the room. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about the future, and while every fiber in his being screamed out that he should stand up and announce right now that he was going to marry Sophie and they would all live together, Trevor wanted for once in his life not to be impetuous.

“Leo,” he said, forcing himself to sound calm, to sound in control, to even sound
kind,
“Leo, kid, I know it’s hard, but we have to say goodbye to the Andersons.”

And then Sophie was there, kneeling on the other side of Leo’s chair, reaching out to take the child in her arms. “Leo, we
will
live together, very soon. Your daddy and I have to make some arrangements first, but while we do, we have to live in our own houses. But we’ll see each other all the time. You and your daddy can come to our house for sleepovers. We’ll all come to your house for sleepovers, too.”

“Really?” Leo asked, his eyes wide with hope as tears ran down his face.

“Really.” Sophie picked up a napkin and gently wiped the boy’s nose.

“Are you my family?” Leo asked.

Sophie nodded. “We’re your family. Lacey, and Jonah, and me, and Daddy, too, and you, Leo.”

“Oh my gosh!” Lacey cried, jumping up from her chair. “Does that mean we’re going to get married?”

“Duh,” Jonah said. “
They’re
going to get married, not all of us.”

Hester, her practicality tempered by her relationship with Connor, asked gently, “But isn’t Sophie still married to Zack?”

“Technically.” Sophie waved her hand as if flapping away a gnat. “Not for much longer.” Gathering Leo into her arms, she slid onto his chair. Now she was very close to Trevor, who remained next to the chair, wanting to console his son, wanting to kiss Sophie passionately, trying not to beam. Leo was snuggling against Sophie, digging his head into her bosom—Trevor wouldn’t mind doing that himself right now. But he stood up, gathering his words, thinking how best to apologize to Sophie’s children for this bizarre sudden announcement that they were all family, terrified that Jonah would consider Leo a spoiled brat who got his own way by having tantrums, and especially that Jonah wouldn’t understand that Sophie and Trevor had been talking about this like adults.

“We intended to sit down with you all—” Trevor began.

“Dude,” Jonah said, and shoved back his chair. He walked over to Leo and squatted down next to him. “I have an idea. You can ride back to Boston with Mom and Lacey. They’ll take you to your apartment before we go to our house. We can come in and see your room.”

Leo’s brow wrinkled. “But then Daddy will have to drive all alone.”

“Nah,” Jonah said. “I’ll ride with him and we’ll meet you there.”

Trevor turned on his heel and strode from the room. Overcome with the first true joy he’d felt since Leo’s birth, Trevor went into the bathroom, shut the door, met his reflection in the mirror, and gave himself a big, fat high-five.
This was happening. It was real.

Finally he pulled himself together, calmed his breathing, and returned to the dining room.

“Goodness,” said Hester, “you must have terrible allergies. I have an antihistamine with me you can take.”

“Thank you,” Trevor said.

Sophie said,
“Mother.”

A knock sounded at the kitchen door. Hester jumped up to answer it.

“Hello, everyone,” Connor said, waving. “Are you ready, Hester?”

Hester looked at her watch. “Goodness, I lost track of the time. Yes, Connor, I’m ready.” She searched the kitchen counter for her purse and found it, then glanced back at Sophie. “We’re going into town to hear a lecture on island farming at the Nantucket Historical Association. Don’t worry about dinner for us. We’ll eat in town.”

“Great, Mom. Have fun, you two,” Sophie said.

“Thanks, darling,” Hester replied as she went out the door.

My mother called me darling,
Sophie thought. Miracles really did happen.

The day before they left the guest cottage, Sophie sat down at the piano. Her mother was at the apartment having lunch with Connor. Trevor was at the beach with the three kids for one last swim. She had remained home to do laundry and pack. Finally, she was organized for their trip back to Boston tomorrow.

She let her hands drift idly over the keys, gliding from one old favorite melody into another, wondering why it was that here, in this house, on this island, she had discovered her music again. The easy answer was that here she was free of Zack, released from his demands, desires, and ambitions. There was some truth in that, but that was not the entire truth. Maybe she had accepted—even needed—the restraints and aspirations of his way of life because she wanted to escape from her own goals.
Yes,
Sophie thought, playing a light arpeggio,
right:
when she had been all about piano, something deep within her had known she also wanted children and family and home and humble homemade zucchini bread. She couldn’t have that and become an international concert pianist as well. Professional musicians worked as hard, in their way, as long-distance truck drivers. They had to practice for hours every day. They had to fly all over the world to perform in countries where they didn’t speak the language on pianos they’d never used before, the ivory keys holding an unfamiliar and unpredictable response. Not much time for zucchini bread.

She didn’t want to believe she had been ruthless when she met Zack, that she’d only pretended to love him so she could have a family, so she could escape her own obsession. Lightly playing the familiar notes of “Some Enchanted Evening,” she remembered meeting him, being enchanted by him, fascinated by his verve and motivations. If she hadn’t loved him, she certainly had been swept away by him, and for a long time she had enjoyed the ride.

Somewhere along the way, in the midst of his architectural success and her happiness with her children and home life, she had lost her admiration for him. That was true, and that was sad. It had been a gentle falling off, maybe beginning at a cocktail party when she watched him suck up to some corrupt, unconscionably wealthy banker, in the hopes that the man would ask Zack to design a house for him. Or it might have been other times, all the times Zack didn’t show up to see his children perform in ballet recitals and school plays and Little League games. And what had started as a trickle of unrest had built into a river of dislike. She had tried to keep up the façade of loving him. She had thought she was doing the right thing for her children.

Arriving here to find the piano, sitting down to discover that she still could play—not well, but well enough for her own pleasure—had been a revelation. She had recovered a deep and significant part of herself. It was not all of who she was, but it was an important part.

And Trevor and Leo? How could their meeting be explained? Chance, serendipity, fate, the stars in alignment, the universe blessing them…a
miracle.
Sophie had always believed miracles existed, and now, for the third time in thirty-six years—the first two times had been the births of her son and daughter—a miracle had happened again. It might be as simple, as
incomprehensible,
as illogical, as marvelous, as that.

And now she would always have music in her life.