“Do you know his phone number?”
“He doesn’t have a phone up here. We only have the one at our house on Chappy.”
I think my eyes got big then. “You rode your bike all the way up-island from Chappy?”
“Yes, ma’am. First time. It doesn’t take as long when we’re in his truck.”
“Okay, if you tell me your last name, there’s a good chance I can track down your dad.”
He looked at me suspiciously again.
“My husband was a fisherman,” I said. “He knows almost everybody around here.” I didn’t mention that I did, too.
The boy sighed, which seemed a funny thing for a kid to do. “Winsted,” he said. “My dad’s Stan Winsted.”
And that was how—and how long ago—that I met Rex.
Now that it looks like Rex and Maddie—who was the brand-new baby way back when—might be getting together for real and forever, they need to know the truth about some things.
Stuff I tried so hard to forget.
And don’t know how to tell them to their faces.
Chapter 23
Maddie’s days were spent with bar charts and projections and too many hours of screen time, and—while juggling sharing her father’s car—running a billion errands. In the evenings, she read some of the books they’d sell, so she’d be better able to recommend titles to customers, per her dad’s suggestion.
In between the chaos, she’d tried to assess whether—once Stephen was gone and what with Rafe still in Amherst—she and Grandma were going to be safe in the cottage, especially now that Maddie’s pregnancy was obvious. Would the note-writer see it as an opportunity for … what?
After reading the last note, she hadn’t shredded them, though she still wanted to believe that three notes in five-and-a-half months hardly indicated an emergency. She did, however, vow that if one more showed up, she would call Brandon. Or the police before then, if she got scared. It would no longer matter if the effort seemed pointless.
She spoke to Rex again, twice. Because he’d been tired, the first call was brief; the second was longer, when—surprise!—he did most of the talking, mostly about how he could go outside in a wheelchair now and how beautiful it was up in thehills with views of the Pacific, and that a rich scent of bougainvillea filled the air because spring came early out there.
Neither conversation had provided an opportunity for her to drop the pregnancy bomb. Or maybe she was reticent for reasons she didn’t want to analyze.
Suddenly, it was April first—the day before Maddie’s appointment with Dr. Mason, and the day before Stephen would leave. She’d barely slept, but now, as slivers of dawn softened the night sky into morning, Maddie longed to go for a run. She needed some worthwhile exercise; a mile or two might clear her head.
She bundled up—bravo for stretchy yoga pants—then tiptoed to the kitchen, exchanged her slippers for her Nikes at the back door, and donned her down parka, wool scarf, hat, and mittens. Unfortunately, as soon as she stepped outside, she realized she’d dressed for the Berkshires. Though hardly Southern California, the Vineyard climate was more temperate than it was in Green Hills, except when the wind kicked in, of which there was none that morning.
So, she deposited her wool accessories on the back steps and made her way through the dunes and down to the beach where, to her surprise, it was high tide, which meant running would not be fun. It was too warm for her parka, anyway.
Standing on the sand, looking toward the horizon, she wilted. As busy as her life now was, the challenges had come too fast for a woman who was used to spending too much time with her head in a book.
She peeled off her parka, spread it on the beach, then sat on it and wished that some things could be different.
“I wish you were still here, Mommy,” she whispered into a thin line of froth that edged an incoming wave. “Because I really need you now.” She didn’t often admit those things, but they were always there, beneath her surface.
Then another gentle wave rolled in, and with it, Maddie heard her mother speak:A lot of good things are coming for you, my dear. And you deserve every bit and more.
Which was what Maddie needed to hear. She closed her eyes and softly said, “Thank you.”
After a pause, a low voice behind her said, “You’re welcome.”
She quickly turned. Instead of Hannah, she saw her father.
“Dad …?”
“You sounded so sincere, I thought I should reply.” He moved closer, then crouched beside her. “I thought you’d gone for a run.”
