“It all started yesterday morning with a fever,” Steven explained. “I didn’t think anything of it. I just called in sick to daycare and stayed home. But it kept going up and up and up overnight, and now we’re here, monitoring things. It’s probably the flu, but they don’t know for sure yet.”
Darcy gaped into space. “You should have told me yesterday,” she rasped, finally.
“Honey, I thought it would blow over,” Steven said. “And I didn’t want to worry you unless it was necessary. Obviously now, it’s necessary.”
Darcy burst into tears, then inhaled sharply and forced herself to stop. Crying at a beach in Capri wouldn’t help anyone: not her, not Steven, and not Gavin.
“I’m coming home,” Darcy told Steven quietly. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
When Darcy hung up, she turned around, expecting to find Rachelle there, waiting with a kind word. But instead, Rachelle was by the bar, cackling at something a handsome Italian sailor was saying to her. She threw her head back, then touched him on the shoulder. She had no idea anything was wrong with Darcy or Gavin. Rage stewed in Darcy’s stomach, although she knew it was based on fear.
It was still raining, with more storms on the horizon, but Darcy had to get off the island as quickly as possible. She gathered her things, zipping her backpack violently. Rachelle noticed and came over. “Where are you going?”
Darcy explained what was going on and what she had to do.
Rachelle’s flirtatious smile melted. She looked aghast. “I don’t think you’ll be able to get off the island today, honestly.”
“I have to try,” Darcy said. “Gavin’s in the hospital, Rachelle.” She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to repeat herself. “I have to be there.” Darcy burst into tears again.
Rachelle gathered Darcy in her arms and brushed her hair back. It felt good, sort of. Kindhearted. But Darcy was too frantic to stay in the embrace.
“Steven is with Gavin. He’s not alone,” Rachelle breathed. “You can’t do anything from the airplane. All you can do is wait. I’ll wait with you. Steven will call soon and tell you what’s going on.”
Darcy couldn’t believe her ears. “I have to go, Rachelle.”
Rachelle’s face was ashen. “We still have six days left. What if Gavin gets better, and you’re already gone?”
Darcy couldn’t begin to answer that. Capri didn’t matter at all to her. None of it did, not really. Not when it came to her child.
And then, before she could stop herself, before she could regroup, she said, “I know you don’t get it. You’re not a mother. And family’s not as important to you.”
Rachelle was taken aback, obviously. She stepped away, raising her hands angrily. “Okay. Okay,” she said.
Thunder rumbled in the sky above. Darcy couldn’t stop crying. All she could picture was her baby, sick and sweating in the hospital, wondering where Darcy was. Darcy had never felt more displaced. Italy was a made-up place. It was stupid and fantastical and so far from home.
Unable to stay in that beach bar a moment more, Darcy headed out into the rain and snaked her way through the little village to get to their apartment. She expected Rachelle to follow her. But when she reached the door and let herself inside, she realized Rachelle wasn’t behind her.
Darcy packed her things, heavy with sorrow. She knew she’d gone too far in saying that to Rachelle. That said, she still believed in what she’d said. Rachelle was living a selfish, lonely life. She didn’t have children and didn’t care about everyone she’d left behind in Nantucket. She’d torn their family apart, in a sense. Could Darcy ever forgive her?
All the parties in all of Italy couldn’t bring them back together again.
Darcy called the ferry ticket office to see if the ferries were still running. In broken English, she struggled to understand. They told her that there would be a final ferry departing at nine thirty that night, a little after the storm was supposed to clear. Darcy bought a ticket for herself, then waited with bated breath for Rachelle to return. When she didn’t appear, Darcy left to catch her ferry.
Just before midnight, Darcy boarded a plane that would take her from Naples to Boston. It was her luck that the flight, which had been meant for earlier that day, had been delayed. Sitting in her seat, her heart pounding, she texted Steven for information. But Steven said that Gavin was still sleeping, still sweating, still feverish. Darcy knew she was doing the right thing in coming home. But she couldn’t help but wonder what was on Rachelle’s mind. Had their sisterhood just been broken beyond repair?
The flight from Naples to Boston was awful. Darcy was in and out of sleep, each time waking up to the nightmare of what was going on. When the plane landed, she practically ran off, went through customs, headed for baggage claim and her mother’s waiting car.
Sam and Darcy hardly spoke during the drive back to Nantucket. Darcy didn’t want to get into anything that had happened abroad. She was too hyper-focused on Gavin, on what happened next, and how they could make Gavin better.
But when they reached the hospital, something incredible happened. Steve emerged, brilliant with happiness, then lifted her and twirled her. He dotted kisses down her nose and told her that Gavin was safe, that the fever had broken just now. Darcy wept, kissed Steven, and hurried in to say hello to their baby. All day, she and Steven stayed by Gavin’s bed, holding hands, telling stories, and thanking their lucky stars. Darcy felt like Italy was a dream.
That night, when Darcy went down the hall to wash her face, she saw that there was a text on her phone from Rachelle.
RACHELLE: Hey, how is Gavin?
Darcy’s heart pounded. She remembered how her sister’s face had looked when Darcy said she didn’t care about family. Her chest filled with shame. Instead of texting, she called Rachelle back, praying she would answer. When she didn’t, Darcy texted back.
DARCY: Gavin is okay now. Listen, Rachelle. I’m really sorry about what I said. I was terrified. I didn’t mean it.
