“What about Connect Four?” Claire asks Louisa.
“Fine,” says Louisa. “Okay,fine. Connect Four.”
Claire trots off to return the contraband to the candy section and pick up the game, and Mark and Frances walk toward the front of the store, leaving Louisa and Kristie alone once more, save for the few shoppers who came in once the doors were opened.
“I’m sorry I can’t help you more,” Louisa says. “I mean that. I’m really sorry.”
Kristie closes her eyes—Louisa’s eyes, Martin Fitzgerald’s eyes, Kristie Turner’s eyes—for several seconds, and when she opens them she no longer looks hardened and tired but warm and disheveled, like a child waking from a nap. “I can’t say I’m shocked,” she says. “But I was—I am—desperate, and like Claire says, I figured it was worth a try.”
When they get home from Renys Louisa sends Claire straight up to her room with instructions to stay there until dinnertime. Yes, they hugged, and yes, they shed tears, and yes, of course, Louisa is overcome with gratitude that her daughter is safe—but Claire still did something very dangerous.
“You’re going to be in trouble for a good long time, young lady,” she says. When she passes Claire’s door on the way to her own room to retrieve her Pitcairn notebook she can hear Claire’s mournful sobs. You think that when your children aren’t with you they’re gliding along in solitude, like one does on the flat moving staircaseat an airport. But life doesn’t work that way! The second you let your kids loose in the world they immediately begin bumping up against other people, seeing things, saying things and having other things said to them, all of which contribute to the completeness of their human experience.
Louisa will think of a reasonable punishment soon; for now, Claire needs to stay put. She walks down to the rocks and sits there for a while, staring out at the water and thinking. She hears a scratching behind her. It’s Danny, scraping at the little wooden gate that leads down to the water.For the love of all that’s good and holy,thinks Louisa,does every single piece of wood on this property need a new coat of paint?
“Sorry!” he says, noticing her turn around. “Didn’t mean to bother you.”
“No bother!” she says untruthfully. “I was heading back up to the house.”
Danny opens the gate he’s been scraping and stands aside to let her pass. Louisa thanks him and almost keeps on walking, up to the house, to her sobbing daughter and her two other children who probably need things from her she’s not even aware of yet. But something makes her stop.
“Hey, uh, Danny,” she says. She stands awkwardly for a moment. Today he has forgone his broad-brimmed hat in favor of a pair of sunglasses, which he pushes up now. His eyes are big and olive colored and there are laugh lines radiating out from them. He wears his hair a little long, and it curls around his ears. “I have a question for you.”
“Sure,” he says. “What can I do for you?”
What she wants to say is, Do you know that your girlfriend, Kristie, is my father’s illegitimate daughter? But what she actually says is, “I just wanted to thank you. For all the things you do for my parents. For everything you take care of, you know. All the—things. Around the house.” This is not a question, she realizes.
He smiles, and the lines deepen. “Sure thing. Someday they might even start paying me.”
“What?”
“I’m kidding,” he says. “Oh, man. If you could see your face. Of course they’re paying me. I make more here than I make landscaping for Gil. But I want to own my own landscaping company one day, so working for Gil is good experience.”
“Ha!” Louisa tries for a chortle but it comes out like she’s choking on a crouton. “No, of course. I mean, obviously, you’re kidding. Good one. You got me!” She pauses, then forges ahead. “I do have a question for you. About your girlfriend. About Kristie. I’m not sure how much you know about this, but we’re sort of related. Not sort of. I mean, I’m sure Kristie has told you that she’s my...” Her voice trails off while she searches for the right word. She’s not quite ready to say “half-sister.”
Danny gives a tiny shake of his head and says, “She’s not.”
Louisa pauses. “She’s not what?”
“Not my girlfriend.”
Louisa’s face warms. “I’m sorry.” Is the baby not Danny’s? Did they break up because of that? “I must have misunderstood. Please forget I said anything.” She should take her notebook and her big, incorrect mouth and go back to the house.
“You didn’t misunderstand. We—ah. We broke up.” Is she imagining it, or is that a tear in each of Danny’s big olive eyes? “About a week ago.” Yes, those are tears. “We didn’t even know each other that long. But we got along really well right away, you know? Things moved fast. I miss her. I miss her so much. But I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.”
Louisa is moved by these statements, by the beseeching, sorrowful look in Danny’s eyes, and also by the memory of Kristie standing next to the World’s Best Grandma as Louisa and Claire left the store. Kristie had looked so very alone, and thin, and tired. Early pregnancy is no picnic, even when one isn’t going through it solo.
“I don’t know why it’s hitting me so hard. I’ve lived with someone for much longer . . .” Danny’s voice trails off mournfully, then picks back up. “But there was something about her. Aboutus.About us together, you know?”
Louisa is gleaning from Danny’s presentation of this relationship that Danny doesn’t know Kristie is pregnant. Plot twist.Majorplot twist. “I know,” she says. “I get it.” Then she asks, “Want to know what I think?”
“Sure.” Danny slides his sunglasses back on; his voice is affable once again.
“I think that if you miss her, she probably misses you too.”
“She did something that I thought—well, and then I—” He shakes his head. “There are some things I said that I don’t think I can take back.”
“Oh, Danny,” Louisa says. She lays her hand on his arm. The gesture surprises them both. His skin is warm from working in the sun. “I’m sure that’s not true. Pretty much everything can be taken back, you know.”
