“Mama?” Alexander bent down beside her and spoke in Italian. “Mama, can you hear me?”
Francesca’s eyes fluttered open to find the kitchen of the rental house in uproar, all because of her and her silly health and the horrible ways her body was failing her.
“We’re going to call an ambulance,” Janie cried down to Francesca.
But Francesca sliced her hand through the air to stop her. “I’m dehydrated,” she said. “The last thing I want is to spend hours in an American hospital, talking to American doctors about what I already know to be true.”
Janie gaped at her and then stared at her husband, as though he could tell her what to do. Alexander’s face crumpled. It was clear Francesca had worried them. Slowly, she propped her elbows on the floor and tried to haul herself back upright. But Alexander stopped her and pulled her up slowly, so that she could grip the counter and work her way to the kitchen table. Gwen hurried to bring her a glass of water. Francesca couldn’t look at any of them. She felt like an exhausted, emotional olderwoman. Coming to the United States again, she’d known she needed to be brave, to be the sort of spitfire woman she’d once been. What if her body didn’t allow that? What if it was planned to give out on her before she did what she’d come to do?
Eventually, the grandkids went back upstairs, and Janie disappeared on the back veranda, maybe to call her friends back in California and tell them about Francesca’s return. Francesca sipped her water and felt Alexander’s eyes on her, curious and worried.
“I’m fine,” she reminded him, although this wasn’t true, and she was beginning to think Alexander knew that.
Nervous, Alexander got up and began preparing a pasta sauce with basil, tomato, and garlic. Francesca watched him work and felt the scents restore her energy. She checked her phone to find numerous texts and calls from Allegra and Lorelei, both of whom seemed about to call the cops to look for her. Francesca showed the texts to her son, who smiled and said, “The more the merrier.”
Francesca called Allegra and informed her where she was, and, within ten minutes, Lorelei and Allegra were in the kitchen of their brother’s house, hugging him and speaking a garbled mix of Italian and English. Francesca watched from the kitchen table, clutching her glass of water. It was remarkable to see your children befriend each other as adults. Sometimes it hurt her to remember that it was partially her fault that the girls she’d taken to Italy didn’t know Alexander as well as they should have. But Alexander had been twenty-three when the White Oak Lodge had burned. He remembered his “kid” sisters well, as did they of him.
That evening, Allegra, Lorelei, and Francesca shared a table with Alexander, Janie, Xander, Gwen, and Conor, eating heaps of pasta, the adults drinking wine, and the kids drinking soda. Francesca begged her grandchildren for details about their timeat Nantucket schools, and Gwen confessed that it hadn’t been easy so far.
“They think we’re really different from them,” Gwen said under her breath, conscious that her mother was only a few seats away and was probably worried about her new era in Nantucket. “And our lives have been totally different, it’s true. Like, Xander used to surf all the time. And I used to always roller-skate on the boardwalk. But it’s already getting cold here. And Xander says the waves aren’t good for surfing.”
“That sounds hard,” Francesca said. “But there are so many other different sports here on Nantucket. You all can get really good at sailing! And I’m sure your dad would love to teach you to fly a plane when the time is right.”
Gwen’s eyes lit up with intrigue. “I was thinking about that,” she muttered. “A guy at school said that girls can’t fly planes very well, that we get too scared?”
Francesca felt an icy jolt that reminded her of all those years ago, when Arturo, the up-and-coming director, had told her that women couldn’t direct films. All at once, she’d let men’s opinions matter to her. She’d let them get between her and her dreams. Sometimes, she wondered what would have happened if she’d ignored him, if she’d stuck it out in Rome and become a filmmaker. But that thought process was a slippery slope. If she hadn’t come to Nantucket with Benjamin, none of her children would have been born. The tremendous love she had for them would have been nonexistent.
“Gwen, listen to me,” Francesca said, feeling suddenly desperate with wanting to pass on this knowledge, “all genders can be pilots. All genders can be whatever they want to be. As a woman, you’re just as focused, aware, intelligent, and talented as any man. Sometimes, women are more talented than men, although we try to hide it so as not to hurt their feelings.” Francesca smiled at her granddaughter, who seemed so differentfrom her Italian granddaughters. She wondered what they would all think of each other.
It wasn’t till later that night, after the grandkids had gone to bed for the night and Allegra and Lorelei had opened a bottle of wine for everyone, that Francesca dared to ask her son about his father. “I want to see him,” she said, raising her chin.
There was a flicker of fear in Alexander’s eyes. He sipped his wine. “How are you feeling about that?”
“About him being alive?” Francesca asked.
Alexander nodded. “Maybe you always suspected it. I don’t know. But it certainly floored me to see him for the first time. I’m still getting used to it.”
Francesca’s heartbeat escalated. “I know I should be angry with him,” she began tentatively. “But I can’t help but feel that we’ve lost so many people along the way.”
“Yes. We’ve lost so many people,” Alexander echoed. “And it’s incredible he’s still here, that he’s been here all this time. We can rebuild.” Francesca knew that the rebuilding involved so much more than the Lodge.
“He certainly has some explaining to do.” She wondered what he’d told his son so far about the past, which secrets Alexander carried for his father. “Tell me where he’s staying,” Francesca said quietly, hoping that Allegra and Lorelei didn’t hear her over their conversation with Janie.
“It’s a house near the Lodge,” Alexander said after a long pause. “Nina was staying there over the summer, but she’s with Charlotte now. And…” He slid his tongue over his canine.
“You can tell me,” Francesca said. “Whatever it is.” Maybe Benjamin was here with a girlfriend. Perhaps he’d forgotten about Francesca. It would be fine if he did, because Francesca had moved on, too. They’d all had to get on with their lives.
“Chloe Essex is on the island as well,” Alexander said, crossing his arms, as though to protect himself from his mother’s wrath.
Francesca’s lips parted with surprise. “Chloe Essex!” She hadn’t heard that name in years, not from anyone beyond the whispers in her own mind.
Alexander explained that Chloe was Janie’s longtime best friend, which rang a bell for Francesca, although she’d allowed herself to forget.
“She and Nina are building a relationship,” Alexander explained, tugging at his shirt collar.
After a long moment of silence, one during which Francesca recalled beautiful memories of little Nina, running through the grounds, playing in the corner of the living room, trying to keep up with her brothers and sisters, she said, “That’s wonderful, Alexander. I really mean that.”
Alexander looked mystified. “Mama,” he asked in Italian, “are you sure you’re all right?”
