With her eyes still riveted on the image, Maddie pressed a palm to her cheek, to the coppery tone of her flesh. It was a shade lighter than the skin of the couple now smiling up at her, but coppery, nonetheless.
Ignoring the fact that her foot was throbbing again, she pushed aside the boxes and stretched out on the mattress. She closed her eyes, wishing she could call up a clear vision of her grandmother the way she’d seen her in her dream at the old schoolhouse and more memories of her time with her. Had they walked on the beach together, collecting pieces of wampum like the ones on the necklace in the wedding picture? Had Grandma sung songs to Maddie at bedtime like the ones that were sung on her wedding day?
As hard as Maddie wanted to conjure a few details, she kept returning to the definitive truth: she was 50 percent Wampanoag, had been since the day she was born. Would be until the day she died. She had deserved to know that. And to know who had kept it from her. Maybe she should confront her father before she told her son, because Rafe, too, was entitled to know why it had been hidden from him.
A breeze quivered through the screen at the open window, as if trying to tell Maddie what to do. But its message was too veiled for her to hear.
* * *
“You-hoo!” The singsongy voice chirped from the front door, jolting Maddie out of sleep. “Maddie? Are you here?”
She pulled her thoughts together. “One minute, Lisa.” She sat up, dragged her casted leg off the side of the bed and finagled her body upright. Grabbing the crutches, she maneuvered into the living room.
“Your door was open,” Lisa said. “I heard you fell. . . .” Her eyes dropped to Maddie’s cast. “Oh. Look at your leg.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks. And it’s only my foot.”
“Well, your foot’s still important, isn’t it?”
Maddie had no response for that. Instead, she asked, “How did you find out?”
“Jeff Fuller came into the town hall this afternoon. He’s also a neighbor, but you can’t see his place from here. Anyway, he said he saw Bucky Williams bring you home and that you were on crutches. He stopped Bucky on North Road and asked what was going on.”
So Bucky Williams was the man in the pickup with the three sheep in the back. But Jeff Fuller? She almost asked if he was related to Mr. Fuller who once owned the ice cream shack, but she was too tired for another history lesson. Chances were, he was a son or a grandson. People on the island seemed to live near one another, travel in the same small circles, or were related. Sometimes all three.
“Do you need help?” Lisa asked. “Do you have food? What can I do?” Chirp. Chirp. Chirp.
“I’m fine, Lisa, but thanks. My son will be here in a few days, and I have plenty of food until then.” The “plenty of food” was comprised of only the pizza, ice cream, jam, and coffee, but the less said to Lisa, the shorter the visit. She hoped.
“Do you have books to read? I can go to the library. Nancy didn’t want to pay for cable TV, but I think there’s an old radio in the kitchen. She liked to listen to small craft advisories on Vineyard Sound.”
Maddie didn’t ask why her grandmother had done that. If she’d still owned a boat, surely Brandon would have included that in his laundry list of Maddie’s inheritance.
“I spoke to CiCi today,” Lisa continued. “She said the two of you had a nice chat.”
Maddie leaned against a chair, needing to take her weight off her foot but not wanting to sit, for fear Lisa would think it was an invitation to do the same. “CiCi knows I haven’t made a decision about this place yet. But I have her card.”
“If she doesn’t drive you crazy, she could use the business. She assumed you inherited everything, and I wasn’t sure, but I figured she was right.”
If her neighbor was expecting an answer, Maddie did not comply.
Then Lisa looked over her shoulder back down the hill. “If you’re sure I can’t help, I guess I’ll be off. I’ve got to pick up the kids from day camp, and I don’t have a clue what to make for dinner.”
Maddie stood up straight again. “Well, thanks for stopping, Lisa. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”
“Great. Just holler down the hill. One of us will hear you!”
Then, blessedly, she departed.
Maddie wriggled over to the chair by the gingham-framed windows and sat. She wondered if Lisa knew that Maddie was Wampanoag . . . or that she’d only just found out.
Not that it mattered.
To anyone but Maddie.
And Rafe, as soon as she told him.
Glancing over at the table, she noticed she’d left her phone there. It must be nearly five o’clock—two bells. Time to stop procrastinating and call her father.
