There was no such drama on Chappy, where they now sat drinking Grandma’s lavender-based iced tea concoction that Maddie brought. Though Rex seemed to enjoy it, he said he would have preferred beer.
She shook her head and closed her eyes, luxuriating in the sun, and listening to the melodies of birds who flitted in and out of the beech trees and scrub oaks around the yard. Silenceand peace, she knew, would be gone in two weeks when the bookshop opened and Rafe would graduate.
“So,” Rex said, stirring her from tranquility. He set down his glass, folded his arms, and looked at her squarely. “Any more threats?”
She wished he hadn’t asked; the bigger her belly grew, the harder it had become to dodge his questions. So she simply shook her head and said, “No threats.”
It wasn’t exactly true. But, unlike the times before, when she’d opened the last envelope that was addressed to Maddie, the sheet of paper inside was blank; not a single word had been printed on it. Then she noticed that something else was in the envelope. Turning it upside down, she shook a small black-and-white photo into her palm. It looked like a yearbook photo. Martha’s Vineyard High School. Class of 1972. The picture was of Hannah, Maddie’s mother.
On the back someone had printed: SHE WOULD NOT WANT YOU HERE.
Again, ambiguous. Again, unsigned.
Despite the sunshine now, Maddie shivered at the memory, at how the image of her mother had numbed her, as if she’d been injected with a quart of Novocain.
“I still want to see what you have.” Rex sounded insistent.
“Later,” she said again and looked away.
“Maddie, stop it,” he said firmly. “Didn’t we agree on no more secrets?”
His rebuke startled her. Did she really want to argue with him over something so trivial?
Trivial?Were the notes really trivial? Or the phone call? Or the stupid vehicle behind her on that foggy, Stephen-King-kind-of-night?
Rex is right, she felt her mother whisper.Stop it.
Maddie lowered her head.
“I love you,” she said. “And I’m excited about everything ahead of us. The known and the unknown.” She patted her belly. “But I expect that down the road we’ll both have things we’ll need—or want—to do on our own, right? Problems that we might not need to bother each other with?”
He shrugged. “I guess.”
She reached over and took his hand. “But if we get stuck, or if we need to talk something out, we’ll have each other. But I don’t want to drag you into all my bumps and scrapes. We’ll both have businesses to run; together we’ll have a child to raise. But we’ll still be individuals, won’t we?”
“Sure. But I have no idea what that has to do with threatening notes.”
“They weren’t really threats, Rex. They were simple suggestions that maybe I don’t belong here. I’m probably not the only washashore who’s received them. Or something like them.”
He laughed, lifted her hand, and kissed it. “If you want to handle this yourself, Maddie, that’s fine. I don’t like it, but I won’t get in your way. You took it to Ken, so I guess I need to let him do his job.”
“Thank you,” she said, though she didn’t really believe that the subject was closed for him.
“I do have another question, though,” he said. “Are you still determined not to marry me?”
Rex was remarkably good at tossing important stuff out of left field.
“I’m not determined about anything. But I want to wait. Let’s see how we are as a couple first, so we won’t wake up a year or two or ten from now feeling like we rushed into anything because of the baby.”
He sighed. “How will I know when you’re ready?”
“Oh,” she said with a smile, “don’t worry. I’ll tell you.”
“Okay. As the mother of my only child, you’re a smart woman. But, once in a while, can I be your knight in shining armor? I am a man, you know.”
Maddie rolled her eyes and laughed.
The best part was that Rex laughed, too.
