“They have a strong and passionate mother to guide them,” Jefferson said.
“I’m not strong or passionate enough to go after my own dreams.” Francesca surprised herself with her own honesty.
Jefferson was quiet, his eyes to the ocean. “There are so many forces beyond our control in this life,” Jefferson said finally. “But the fact is, you’re a force of nature, Francesca. Whether you want to admit that about yourself or not.”
Francesca was startled into silence. She wasn’t sure she’d ever heard herself spoken about like that. It both endeared Jefferson to her and terrified her at once. Before she could come up with something to say, Jefferson changed the topic to other things he didn’t know about her. What had her childhood been like? What did she think of her father’s films?
For hours, she and Jefferson talked. What began as waiting up for Ronald turned into something else. Francesca allowed herself to make eye contact, to smile at Jefferson’s jokes, to fully engage. After all, Jefferson was now part of the White Oak Lodge family, an essential part of the operations. It behooved all of them if Jefferson and Francesca got along.
It wasn’t till dawn spilled across the beach that Jefferson stretched his arms over his head and admitted he needed to shower and get ready to tend to the horses. They both knew Benjamin would be up soon. Francesca watched Jefferson exit the porch and disappear into his quarters, then got up herself and made a pot of coffee in the kitchen. Soon, Allegra would wake up, followed by Lorelei and Alexander. She’d be exhausted, but she’d been exhausted before. It didn’t occur to her till she was drinking her coffee that Ronald still wasn’t home.
He’s asleep somewhere. He’s at a hotel. He’s at a friend’s. But even as the ideas spun through her mind, ways in which Ronald could have survived, she knew in the belly of her soul that he hadn’t. She clutched her hands into fists and sobbed quietly, feeling the weight of her love for Ronald press hard against her chest. And then, from upstairs, Allegra’s cries carried, drawing Francesca from her pain and into the knowledge that she was needed. She couldn’t hide from herself and live in her sorrow.
At eight thirty that morning, two police officers appeared on the front porch of the White Oak Lodge and gave the news to Benjamin: his brother had drowned. He wasn’t coming home. Francesca listened from the kitchen, then hurried to catch Benjamin right before he fell to the ground. The officers were pallid-faced and holding their hats in their hands.Take it back, Francesca wanted to tell them.Help us go back to the beginning.
Chapter Fourteen
Present Day
For the first time in nearly thirty years, Benjamin Whitmore walked toward Francesca Whitmore, his black shoes sending tufts of sand out behind him, his brow furrowed. As he came closer, Francesca caught more and more of the fine lines and wrinkles that he wore on a face that was once (and still was, maybe) beloved to her. His clothing was high-quality: a linen shirt, a pair of dark brown slacks, and a belt that Francesca was vaguely certain she’d purchased for him. It begged the question, in the midst of faking his own death, had Benjamin remembered to pack a bag of supplies? She shook the thought from her mind. It couldn’t be relevant right now.
Charlotte was a jittery mess beside Francesca, watching as the faux-father she’d grown up with approached. Francesca realized she hadn’t asked Charlotte why she’d been asleep on Benjamin’s sofa. She supposed that everything about life right now mystified her. She couldn’t begin to ask questions about all of it, or the sheer amount of it would wear her down.
When Benjamin reached her, he put his hands on his hips and gazed into her eyes. The expression on his face was one of mystery, surprise, and unadulterated joy. “Francesca,” he said finally, and at once Francesca thought of when he’d come all the way to Rome in 1971 and found her at the café and changed her life forever. It was as though those two realities—back then and right now—existed at the same time, within her heart. Her knees were weak. “Francesca, you made it,” he said, as though he’d been at the Lodge, waiting for her to come home. As though he himself had invited her.
Francesca closed the distance between herself and her husband. Mere inches from him, she was surprised to realize that he smelled the same: musk and cologne and salt and sweat. She stirred with a longing that surprised her. It had been a very long time since she’d been around a man she desired—the five years since Jefferson, she supposed. A part of her had assumed that that part of her life was over.
But he disappeared, she reminded herself. He faked his own death and ran away.
Francesca took a deep breath and asked the first question that came to mind. “How are you?” But a split-second after she said it, she winced. It felt so commonplace, so ordinary.
Benjamin smiled. “I’m all right, really, all things considered.”
You’re certainly not dead, Francesca thought.
“And you?” Benjamin asked. “How was your trip?”
Francesca touched her hair nervously and said it was fine. “The girls came with me. Allegra and Lorelei.”
Benjamin’s eyes widened, although it seemed he didn’t have the language to describe what it meant to him that Allegra and Lorelei were here. Allegra and Lorelei had left the States. They were nearly 100 percent their “mother’s children.” Yet they’d come back to Nantucket to see him, to see their Whitmore family. Francesca knew it was a lot to reckon with.
Glancing behind Francesca, Benjamin spoke to Charlotte. “How are you feeling, Char?”
Charlotte smiled and said, “A lot better. I was surprised when Mom stormed into your house looking for you, though. I thought I was having a fever dream.”
“You didn’t tell me you were sick,” Francesca said, suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to tend to Charlotte’s needs instead of her own.
“I’m not anymore,” Charlotte insisted. “I came by Dad’s place this morning because I left my antibiotics there by accident. I fell asleep before he left.”
“She conked out,” Benjamin said with a laugh.
“You should have told me. I would have let you rest,” Francesca insisted.
“Nah, I’m feeling way better, and I have to meet one of the designers anyway,” Charlotte said, gesturing toward the Lodge. “She should be here in about half an hour.”
“The kids have so many plans for this place,” Benjamin said to Francesca, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “You wouldn’t believe some of the incredible ideas they’ve pitched to me.”
It certainly surprised Francesca that her children were so smitten with the idea of reopening the Lodge. It was a place that had “rejected” them, in a sense. A place filled with their memories that had gone up in flames.How’s that for a metaphor?Francesca thought.
