“She won’t. She’s moving to Michigan.”
“What?” Jim gaped at her. “Michigan?”
“She has a new job, and she left ten minutes ago.”
“That can’t be.” He shook his head hard. “Quintessa didn’t say anything.”
“She doesn’t know. I didn’t know either.” She stepped to the mail table and picked up an envelope. “When I came home from mass, Mary was packing her trunk. She wanted to tell Quintessa over lunch, but she couldn’t, so she left a letter.”
Jim reached for it.
Yvette drew back. “It is for Quintessa, not you.”
The coffee churned in Jim’s belly. “Why didn’t she tell us? Why would she keep it a secret? That doesn’t make sense.”
Yvette held the envelope behind her back, her eyes dark. “If she will not tell you, neither will I.”
“She left.” Jim rubbed his hands down his thighs. “The train. Which station? Do you know?”
“She’s flying. She wanted an adventure by land, sea, and air.”
Jim blinked, but everything looked murky, sounded murky. “Land, sea, and air?”
“Yes. She took a cab to the airport, but she wanted to take the ferry also, to see the city from the water one last time.”
“The ferry.” Only one ferry ran on the harbor, between downtown Boston and East Boston, where the airport was.
“I know. It is ridiculous. So slow. But she insisted. The taxi driver will drop her off at one terminal, and she’ll catch another taxi on the other side. She is wasting money and time.”
But that bought Jim time. “Thanks.”
He loped down the steps, searched for a cab, couldn’t find one, and started walking. Finally, a cab. He hopped inside. “Eastern Avenue Ferry Terminal, please.”
The driver nodded and drove away. Slowly. Of all the cab drivers in Boston, Jim had to find one who obeyed the traffic laws.
His foot tapped on the floor of the cab. Why would Mary leave without telling anyone? Only one thought came to mind, but was it just wishful thinking?
What if she did love him? What if seeing him with Quintessa did break her heart? What if she was fleeing Boston so she wouldn’t have to watch them?
What if he’d swallowed too much oil when theAtwoodsank and he had brain damage?
The taxi drove south onto the Charlestown Bridge. Traffic slowed to a stop. Horns beeped. Jim cranked down his window and leaned his head outside. The El tracks ran down the center of the bridge on two decks, one heading south, the other heading north. Vehicular traffic ran on either side of the tracks.
Ahead of him, drivers stepped out of their cars.
Jim groaned. An accident or something. Swell. Maybe the Lord didn’t want him to declare his love after all.
Yet he knew that wasn’t true. It was time.
What could he do? Get out of the car, walk past the traffic jam, and hope he found another cab? How long would that take?
Down below on the Charles River, sailboats zipped along, racing sailboats with sleek lines, manned by Harvard boys in dark red sweaters. With a boat like one of those, he could catch any ferry in the world. But he didn’t have a boat like that, didn’t have any boat at all.
Jim opened the door and marched to the rail of the bridge, his fists balled in his coat pockets, his breath steaming from his nostrils. All this year, he’d worked so hard not to act like a fool. And all along, Mary thought he showed love by acting like a fool. In the end, Jim had made a fool of himself bynotacting foolish.
“Biggest fool of all time, Avery.”
Jim stopped in his tracks. An idea floated into his brain and lodged there, bold and crazy.
