“Your dad and his family will be there?”
“Are you kidding? Because he’s a ‘successful’—his word—alum, he’s pissed he wasn’t asked to be commencement speaker.”
Yes. That sounded like Owen. Then Maddie realized that commencement would be toward the end of May. A lump swelled in her throat.
“Is graduation Memorial Day weekend?” she asked, wondering how the date had escaped her.
“Yup. It’s that Sunday.”
The weekend the bookshop was scheduled to open. The grand opening date not only for new businesses, but for the entire island to kick off summer. Why hadn’t she thought of that earlier?Because you’ve been a mess, she thought. Even worse, she’d be heavily pregnant by then, and Owen was far more critical of unmarried mothers than Rafe’s generation, or even theirs.
“And … when’s the baby due?” her son teased.
“July twelfth.” It was the first time she’d shared the date that Dr. Mason had “assigned.”
With a hearty laugh, Rafe said, “Well, it’ll add to the interest of the festivities, won’t it?”
She gritted her teeth and hoped her theory about facial expressions was incorrect. “Don’t be ridiculous, honey. We’re adults. Well, not counting the twins. We’ll all be there foryou. No one or nothing else. Got it?”
“Yes, but Dad …”
Maddie refrained from saying, “Your dad’s a jerk, Rafe.” Instead, she lied and said, “Your dad will be fine, too. In fact, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled that I finally have another life.”
“You’re too generous, Mom.”
For a moment, Maddie suspected that Owen had said derogatory things to Rafe about her already. She’d never asked, and didn’t care to know. Her son was smart enough to know the difference between reality and Owen being Owen.
Then Rafe said he had to get some sleep so he’d be prime for training in the morning.
After they hung up, Maddie tried to get back into reading, but she couldn’t concentrate. All she could think about was Memorial Day weekend, when she’d be almost seven-and-a-half months pregnant and very noticeable. She’d also have to figure out how the bookshop could open when the owner was off-island. Changing the opening date probably wasn’t an option—ads were already placed and paid for. The only answer would be if she could find someone she trusted who could fill in. Francine was the most likely, but she’d be busy with the Inn. Still, maybe she’d have a suggestion.
Pulling the comforter around her, Maddie turned off the lamp and prayed that sleep would come quickly and peacefully. But it did not.
At some point in the night, she heard a soft ding from the nightstand. A text alert. She didn’t move, wondering if it had been her imagination. Or her note-writer, hoping that texting would have a stronger impact. After a few seconds, it dinged again.
She reached over and retrieved the phone. The red dot indicated that indeed there was a text, so that part was real.
Squinting, to avoid turning on the lamp again, she read: IMADE IT TO THE ISLAND. ATWINDEMEREREHAB. COME VISIT. It was signed with a smiling emoji.
She might have stopped breathing for a moment.
Then she did what a woman in love most likely would have done. She bounded out of bed as quickly as her baby-heavy body was able to bound.
Racing into the bathroom, she washed up, brushed her teeth, and flung on a little makeup: She looked tired, but happy; exhausted, but elated. Then she threw on the outfit she’d worn the day before because it was one less thing to have to think about.
Twelve minutes after the text arrived, she dashed off amessage for Grandma, flew out the back door, and raced up the hill where she’d parked Orson. Jumping into the pickup, she flicked on the ignition and barreled toward Menemsha Road, grinding the gears a couple of times but not caring, heading toward South Road that would take her to State and then to Martha’s Vineyard Hospital where her baby’s father had asked her to visit.
She hadn’t noticed that it was only three o’clock in the morning.
Chapter 26
“You can’t come in.”
“Please,” Maddie begged as respectfully as she could manage. “He just flew home last night.” She stood outside the door where Taylor disappeared only hours earlier.
“I’m sorry, but he’s sleeping,” the man on the inside said, one hand on the door handle, prepared in case the visitor became unpleasantly insistent.
She shook her head. “No. He texted me a few minutes ago and begged me to come.” She fumbled for her purse, ready to grab her phone to prove it.
