Then she walked, grasping tree trunks for balance along the way, treading through the icy snow, mindful to be quiet, hoping that whoever was inside didn’t hear the van approach.
Finally, she reached the cabin. There were no curtains or blinds at the windows, nothing to block her view. Candles lit up the room; a fire glowed in the stove. She knew it was easier for her to see inside than for anyone to look out and see her in the dark; unlike the first time she’d come upon Rex, the light inside wasn’t leaking out to the yard. So Annie had a clear view of Abigail, who stood in the middle of the room, dressed in a coat, a hat, and mittens. It looked as if she had been crying.
Caleb was a few feet in front of Abigail. Yes, Annie knew, it really was him. The young man she’d seen with Abigail at Granite, the one who had looked so familiar.
In Caleb’s arms was . . . Bella.
She sheer-willed herself not to scream.
Moving as stealthily as possible, she went up to the door and turned the handle. Either it was locked—or stuck. Steeling her shoulder on her right side—instead of the left side where her head now sported stitches—she counted to three, as if that would make a difference. Then she rammed her body, full force, against the door. It lurched open.
Which alerted Bella.
The little girl scrambled out of Caleb’s grasp faster than Annie had ever seen her move.
“Ammie!” came her happy cry as she rushed toward her. “Ammie!”
Annie held her breath and stooped down. “Hey, little one!” she called, and enfolded Bella into her arms. “We’ve missed you!” She held her close and smoothed her beautiful curls. She hoped that Bella could not feel her trembling.
“I didn’t hear from Caleb after the weekend he was here.” Abigail’s words spilled out in a rush. “I thought he dumped me . . .” She cried again. “He texted me this afternoon. He asked if I could keep a secret. I was so afraid if I told anyone they’d think that I’d done it . . .”
Annie knew she had a choice: to believe Abigail or to challenge her right then—and risk losing any chance they might have of ever being friends. And maybe risk losing John, too.
But, in truth, Annie did believe her. Abigail’s terrified expression that Annie had seen through the window had said it all.
“Which one of you slashed my tire?” she asked.
Caleb frowned. “Abigail said you didn’t like her. I was trying to impress her.”
Abigail shook her head. “I didn’t think he’d do it, Annie. Just like I never, ever, would have thought that he’d take Bella. Even though I now know that he’s her father.”
That was something Annie hadn’t seen coming. She looked back at Caleb, who looked as if he, too, were about to cry.
“Bella’s father wasn’t Stephen Thurman,” Abigail explained. “Caleb is. He . . . he had sex with Francine’s mother. When he was with his father and brother over on the Cape, supposedly fishing.” Her voice quivered; she turned toward the door. “He . . . herapedher.”
“I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t.” The boy hung his head. “But I was drunk. I was mad at my dad . . . I thought he was fooling around with her . . . it would have killed my mom. . . .” Then he added, “I’m so sorry, Abigail. It happened a long time before I met you.” As if that made the current situation okay.
“We’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” Annie said.
Caleb shook his head. “You don’t understand. My father raised me and my brother to take responsibility. And, yeah, I made a mistake with Bella’s mother. But when this . . . whenshehappened”—he gestured toward Bella—“he said we’d tell everyone that she was his. That otherwise I’d screw up my whole life. But all this time, I wondered where she was. I was hoping she was still here. My dad had cancer a long time . . . it’s why he and Mom decided he’d say the baby was his. They knew it wouldn’t be long before he was dead, and then no one would ever blame me.”
“But the fight your parents had . . . ,” Annie began.
“When Mom socked him in the jaw? It was an act,” Caleb said. “Mom hit him harder than either of them expected, but it was fake.”
“I was convinced,” Annie said. She was also convinced now that Caleb, indeed, was Bella’s father. The dark eyes, the thick, black hair, the little scrunch of his brow when he was upset—all along, Annie had confused Bella’s features with Francine’s. But, as it turned out, Bella looked like Caleb, too.
“That was the point. But I knew all along that after my dad died, I’d find a way to see my little girl. Justseeher, you know? I finally got up the nerve to come back to the Vineyard. I remembered that Earl Lyons lived on Chappy. I got as far as theOn Timewhen I chickened out. On the boat back to Woods Hole, I ran into Lucas. I made up a story about checking on my father’s headstone. And then he introduced me to Abigail.” He hung his head again. “When he told me her father was going to marry the famous author Annie Sutton, I remembered your name. I couldn’t believe my luck.”
“So you decided to take Bella?”
“No! I told you. I just wanted to see her. . . .” Tears spilled. His mind seemed to drift for a moment. Then he said, “But first I had to find her. I knew Abigail could be a key to making that happen.” He looked at her then. “I wasn’t using you, honest. I really liked . . . I really like you.”
Annie couldn’t tell if Abigail believed him.
“You pumped me with questions,” she said. “I told you about Annie and the Inn. Don’t tell me you weren’t using me.” It wasn’t apparent whether she was angry or hiding the fact that she felt crushed.
“We had such a great time when I was here for the weekend,” Caleb continued. “But when you brought me to the boat, I never got on. It felt like it was my chance.”
