“It doesn’t matter. Visiting hours start at eleven, more than seven hours from now. I suggest you come back then.”
In spite of her determination to not take no for an answer, Maddie’s lower lip started to tremble. Maybe if she cried, he would change his mind.
“Please.” She lowered her voice. “He was almost killed in an accident in California. He was in the hospital out there for three months.”
Pause.
“He lives here, right?”
Maddie nodded. “In Edgartown. He was born here. And now he owns the Lord James restaurant.”
The man sighed and paused again.
Then he asked, “Are you a family member?”
There it was: the glancing blow. Maddie felt her hope evaporate.
“I’m as close as family can get.”
The majordomo shook his head. “Sorry,” he said and began to shut the door.
“But …” Tears formed in her eyes though she hadn’t even tried. She wondered if she should tell him she was pregnant, then shamelessly open her cape so he could see her rounded belly.
But she couldn’t do it, because he might tell Rex.
He shook his head again and said, “We’ll see you at eleven.” He gave her a semi-sympathetic smile.
And then he closed the door, practically in her face.
As Maddie steered Orson through Five Corners and back onto State Road, the darkness was becoming wrapped in fog again, thicker than before. She remembered when she’d been four or five and Grandma told her a Wampanoag legend that the giant Moshup, Creator of the island, gave them the gift of fog, a soft blanket to protect his people from harm. The thought made Maddie smile now, even as she eased her foot up off the accelerator in case the gift turned into a nightmare.
With no cars in the area and, thanks to Moshup, only quiet, Maddie decided to enjoy the drive. To her, fog felt peaceful, much like the stillness of a heavy snowfall in Green Hills; both acted as cushions for the earth, nature’s sound barriers that silenced humans, their voices and their vehicles.
She drove up the hill and passed Cronig’s Market, where she’d made a U-turn the night before, and realized she felt calmer than when she’d left the hospital—now that she knewRex would be well cared for in the last leg of his rehab. As for her, she knew she needed to practice patience, which would also be a good exercise for after the baby came.
Not far past the market, she noticed the Black Dog Café up ahead. Its lights were on but murky, clouded by the fog; inside, the café workers must be getting ready to open. She wished they were open so she could get a breakfast sandwich or a muffin. But then her thoughts had to refocus as a blur of headlights approached her from behind.Another damn fool on the road in the wee hours, she thought.
Beyond the Black Dog, State Road dipped and curved; to the right was the overlook of Tashmoo Pond, where it became more difficult to see and more menacing to drive. She thought about turning into the parking lot and waiting out the worst of the visibility, but it might take a long time, and she’d most likely get cold, in spite of Orson’s new heating system. Besides, she realized the gas gauge looked precariously low.
So Maddie kept driving, the headlights behind her creeping closer, glaring into her mirror like halogen ones did. That, and the fact that she was not alone on a desolate road in the pea soup, did not feel comforting but foreboding.
With maybe ten more miles to go if she veered off State at North Road, Maddie knew it would take longer if she stayed on State to South Road and turned onto Menemsha Road. But because the South Road route was more populated, she thought it might be safer if the fog became so thick she couldn’t see.
After making that decision, she flicked her eyes to the rearview mirror and was nearly blinded; the headlights were now on high beams and drawing closer to Orson. An ominous feeling, a warning, a harbinger suddenly gripped her. And Maddie knew she had to stay the course—in case her stalker was the author of the notes.
The toughest part was restraining herself from stepping onthe gas in order to escape the eerie headlights nearly hugging Orson’s rear bumper now. And though her pulse was racing, Maddie was getting tired.
Without closing her eyes (though she really, really wanted to), Maddie prayed to Moshup and to God and to her ancestors and her mother, and to anyone else who might be listening, that what she was feeling was not akin to Grandma’s portentous sense of someone walking over her grave. Especially since the needle for the gas gauge had dropped another mark.
Carefully navigating the curve at the West Tisbury Village Cemetery, with now surprising precision, Maddie shifted again—grinding the gear that time—as, thankfully, Orson carried her safely down the small hill, then up the next one that led to Alley’s and the library. But before she reached the top, something instantly changed. The blur of lights in the rearview mirror shifted—the vehicle took a sharp left turn onto Edgartown Road and disappeared into the fog.
Maddie needed to catch her breath. Pulling into an empty lot beyond Alley’s, she brought Orson to a stop. Her arm muscles ached; her head hurt now, too. As for her brain, she berated herself for having been paranoid, because, realistically, no one would have known she was out before dawn, let alone someone who’d want to risk driving in the dangerous early hours without a better reason than to try to intimidate her. The one good thing was that the danger seemed to have passed; she decided it was now safe to keep driving to Menemsha.
As if in agreement, the baby gave her a swift kick.
Thanks to another miracle, there had been more than enough gas to get her to the cottage. Yet Maddie remained restless for what was left of the night, though by the time she was back in her bedroom it was almost five thirty, whichhardly could be called night, despite that the sun didn’t rise until nearly seven.
She went to bed, but at six fifteen, she pushed the covers off and gave up the struggle. Getting up, she showered and dressed—again—in the same clothes. If she did not see Rex today, she’d need to find another camouflaging outfit to put on.
