“But I doubt you’d recommend it.”
“Not for a second.”
“Okay,” Annie said, “enough of my prying. The sun’s almost down. Let’s head up to the action.”
They packed their picnic things, toted them back to the Jeep, then meandered past small children racing with pinwheels, smiling grandparents pushing strollers, and couples of all ages making their way toward the sounds of the Vineyard Haven Band. Over the festive clamoring, Annie raised her voice to explain that the Tabernacle was a nineteenth-century, wrought-iron structure and was listed in the National Register of Historic Places. She told Meghan that under its striking, octagonal cupola and dozens of clerestories, the open-air church boasted seating for up to four thousand. “Today it’s used for high school graduations as well as concerts, church services, and all kinds of cultural events in the summer.”
“You’d make a great tour guide,” Meghan said, also increasing her voice several decibels.
“I’ll keep that in mind if the book thing doesn’t work out,” Annie shouted back with a happy laugh.
Then the music shifted to lively antics of dual pianos, and the hundreds of people joined together, singing lively renditions of “Yankee Doodle Dandy” followed by “In the Good Old Summertime.” Annie stepped back and listened, unable to stop smiling. This was the Vineyard at its best.
At eight thirty (or thereabouts), the Tabernacle fell into darkness; the crowd turned customarily silent; the ceremonial first lantern was lit. What followed were ethereal rainbows of light, one after another after another and another, encircling the grounds as each gingerbread house lit its lanterns—some paper, some fabric, some painted with flowers, some with clever, custom artwork. The effect was enchanting. Then Annie felt a tap on her shoulder.
“Would you ladies care to glow?” It was Simon Anderson, holding up two glowing, plastic necklaces.
“How nice,” Annie said quickly as she took them from him and handed one to Meghan, who looked somewhat stricken. “Mary Beth, I don’t think you’ve met Simon Anderson. Simon, this is my friend, Mary Beth, who’s staying at the Inn, too.”
Meghan fidgeted with the necklace, then slipped it on while muttering a small “Thank you.”
“Here,” Simon said to Annie, “allow me.” He retrieved the necklace, wrapped it around Annie’s neck, then lifted her hair as he clasped it. He then rested his hands on her shoulders, leaned closer, and whispered in her ear. “The glow enhances your loveliness.” Then he straightened up and said, “Enjoy the rest of the evening, ladies.” He bowed slightly and walked away, vanishing into the crowd.
* * *
“What wasthatabout?” Meghan asked once Annie had hustled her out of there and they headed back to Chappy.
“I have no idea.”
Meghan sighed. “I guess the good news is that he was so busy hitting on you, he barely noticed me.”
Following the line of vehicles that inched along as slowly as the great leathernecks as they trailed their way back into the ocean after laying their eggs on Florida beaches, Annie was reminded that no matter how congested the traffic became on the Beach Road or at other bottlenecks, like her, few people cared. At least, not with the kind of horn-blowing, road-raging antics often seen on the mainland. Summer traffic was part of the Vineyard experience, and though islanders occasionally grumbled about it, they rarely moved away.
If Annie was trying to focus on the traffic in order to distract her from the discomfort of Simon’s attention, it wasn’t working. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have done that if John had been standing there.”
“Will I get to meet your fiancé soon?”
“I wish. But it’s August. He’s always working. Or sleeping. Or, now, tending to his two daughters. I won’t see much of him until after Labor Day.”
“That stinks.”
“Agreed.”
They grew quiet for a moment, then Meghan said, “Annie? Do you think Kevin will come back?”
“I wish I knew. I really do.”
“I don’t know how long I should wait. Or if I should wait. Or if I should go and let him have his life. Donna gave me hope that he still loved me, but time changes things, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose it can.” To stop from telling Meghan that she’d often wanted to hold Kevin captive until she succeeded in planting some sense into his gray matter over his bizarre attraction to Taylor, Annie told her about Brian, about how his death had left her unhinged, how it was years before she’d been able to delete the last message he’d left when he’d said he had a secret to tell her. “I’d become obsessed with trying to find out what the ‘secret’ was. It felt like something I could hold on to. And it felt safer than to keep thinking he was . . . gone.” She stopped speaking a moment, until she regained some equilibrium—speaking about Brian had a way of decentering her. “The truth is,” she added, “I never thought I’d recover. At some point I went on with my life, but I it was a long time before I healed.”
“Did you ever find out what he wanted to tell you?”
She shook her head. “No. At some point, I accepted that it didn’t matter; he wasn’t coming back.” In the early weeks, months, after his death, she’d had to remind herself of that often.
“Are you trying to prepare me that Kevin might not come back . . . or that he might not come back to me? And that I might never know the whole story?”
“Oh, Meghan, no. All I know is that every time Kevin talks about you, he can barely get the words out. But change is part of life, and no matter what happens, we learn from it, and God knows we grow. But I don’t mean to sound . . . pessimistic. Unlike with Brian and me, you still have a chance.”
