Breakwater Bay (2 page)

Meri sighed. Thirty must be the age when you started reminiscing about life. She was definitely feeling nostalgic tonight. Maybe it was because her future was suddenly looking a little hazy, though she had to admit, Peter’s change of plans hadn’t thrown her into depths of despair. After her initial shock and dismay, her first thought was she would have more time to concentrate on her work without feeling guilty about neglecting him.

Obviously, neither of them was ready for total commitment. This would give them some time to really figure things out.

As she crossed the bridge at Tiverton, the drizzle became a deluge, and her little hatchback was buffeted by gusts of wind that didn’t let up until she turned south again toward Calder Farm. She could see the house across the dunes long before she got there. Every window was lit, and the clapboard and stone farmhouse shone like a lighthouse out of the dark. Way to the left of it, Alden Corrigan’s monstrous old house appeared as an ominous shadow.

Meri smiled. Looks could be deceiving. Alden’s house was merely untended. It had seen its share of unhappiness like most of the old houses in the area, but it had also had its share of good times.

She turned into the car path and bumped slowly toward the house. Most of the menagerie of animals that found their way to the farm had probably taken shelter in the barn at the first sign of rain. Still, Meri peered through the dark for moving forms and gleaming eyes until she came to a stop at the front of the house.

A silver Mercedes was parked outside. Meri grabbed her overnight bag from the backseat, ducked into the rain, and dashed toward the kitchen door, which opened just as she got there, casting a bright spotlight on her as she rushed inside.

“Hi, Gran.” Meri kissed her grandmother’s cheek and shrugged out of her dripping jacket. “What smells so good?”

Gran took her coat. “Your favorite, as if you didn’t know. Now come inside.”

Meri stepped into the kitchen, shaking off the rain. A man got up from the table. He was tall with hair combed back from a high forehead, and smile lines creasing his eyes and mouth.

“Dad!” Meri said. She dropped her case and purse and gave him a wet hug. “I can’t believe you’re here. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Is that a new car?”

He laughed and pushed her gently to arm’s length, then planted a kiss on her forehead. “I wasn’t sure I could get away. Happy birthday.”

Gran gave her a pat. “Go wash up and we’ll eat.”

Meri hurried to the powder room, followed by several cats that appeared from nowhere for the sole purpose of trying to trip her up on her way down the hall.

Daniel Hollis had married Meri’s mother when Meri was three; three sons came at regular intervals after that, and every spare space was put to use as the Hollis family grew.

Now Gran lived mostly downstairs. She was only seventy-five, or so she told everyone, but since she lived alone, they’d all made her promise not to go up and down the stairs, a promise that she promptly broke. When Meri caught her vacuuming the bedroom carpets, she merely said, “I can’t live comfortably knowing all that dust is gathering above my head.”

When Meri returned to the kitchen, there were bowls of steaming cioppino set at three places, and the aroma of the rich seafood stew filled the air. They’d just sat down when there was a knock at the door.

“Come in, Alden,” Gran called from the table. “That man could smell cioppino from the next county.”

The door opened and “that man,” a tall, ridiculously thin, broodingly handsome forty-two-year-old man ducked in the low door and stood dripping on the flagstone floor.

“Get yourself a bowl and sit down,” Gran said.

“Thanks, but I can’t stay. I just came to say happy birthday.”

Gran gave him a look that Meri didn’t understand and Alden chose to ignore. He walked over to Meri and before she could even stand, he dropped a flat gift-wrapped package on the table. “Happy Birthday.”

“Thanks. Can’t you stay? I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“I know, but I have a bunch of work to get finished and I’m way behind. You staying for the weekend?”

“Just till tomorrow.”

“Then I’ll see you before you leave.”

“At least wait until I open your present.”

She pulled at the string that was tied around the package; the bow released and with it the paper.

“I couldn’t find the tape,” he said.

“Why am I not surprised?” She lifted out a piece of cardboard, where a pen-and-ink drawing had been mounted. It was a girl, her hair curling down her back, sitting on the rocks gazing out to sea. The rocks were those of the breakwater on the beach between the two houses. The girl looked like her.

“It’s beautiful, Alden. Thank you. Is it Ondine?” she asked, teasing him. Taciturn and reclusive, he was best known for his illustrations of children’s books.

“Good God, no.”

“Oh,” she said, surprised at his reaction. “Who then?”

“Just someone sitting on the rocks.”

“Ah. Well, I love it. Thank you. I’m going to have it framed and put it on my living room wall in Newport.”

“I’d better be going; your dinner is getting cold.”

“You’re sure you don’t want—”

“Can’t,” Alden said. “But happy birthday. Dan. Gran.”

Gran shook her finger at him. But he was gone.

“Well, that was weird,” Meri said.

His leaving seemed to cast a pall over the room.

“Let’s eat,” Gran said.

Meri dug in, but she noticed that Gran merely picked at her food. Dan seemed to have lost his appetite, too. Meri didn’t understand. The stew was heavenly, but their lack of enthusiasm was catching, and she pushed her bowl away before it was empty. “Delicious,” she said with a satisfied sigh, though it was a little forced.

The atmosphere had definitely taken a plunge since Alden’s visit. She wanted to know why. “Is something happening with Alden? Why didn’t he stay for dinner?”

“Oh, you know Alden,” Gran said and began clearing the table.

She
did
know Alden. They’d grown up together, sort of. He was already a teenager when she was born, and by the time she was old enough to pester him and follow him around, he was in high school.

Gran refused help with the dishes, and Meri and her father traded work stories until Gran returned with a homemade carrot raisin cake and one big candle. “I always keep a box of birthday candles,” Gran explained. “But I guess they melted in last summer’s heat wave. So you only get one.”

“That’s fine,” Meri told her. “It will make up for the forest of candles on the cake at work.”

They ate cake and Gran pulled a festively wrapped package from the shopping bag she’d placed by the side of her chair.

Meri opened it slowly and neatly, a trait that she was born with and was a big plus in her chosen profession, but sometimes made her brothers scream, “Just tear off the paper.”

“How are the three Musketeers? Are Gabe and Penny all set for the baby?”

“Oh yeah, for months now.” Dan sighed, and Meri knew he was thinking about her mother who had died only four years before. She would never see any of her grandchildren.

“Let’s see. Matt just got a raise, and Will is having way too much fun at Georgetown.”

“Oh yeah, I got e-cards from both of them yesterday. And Penny sent a lovely card and signed both Gabe and her names.”

The paper came off and Meri opened the box. It contained a hand-knitted pullover sweater in Meri’s favorite colors of blue, lavender, and burgundy. “It’s gorgeous. Did May McAllister knit this?”

“Yes, she did. And she said if it didn’t fit just right to bring it by the store and she’d fix it.”

“Everything she’s ever made has fit perfectly,” Meri said. “Thank you so much.”

Gran smiled.

Dan stood and pulled a jeweler’s box out of his pants pocket. He walked over to Meri and handed it to her, then stood beside her as she opened it. It was a locket of brushed gold. The inside held two tiny pictures, one of her mother and one of Dan.

Sudden tears sprang to Meri’s eyes. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

He hugged her. “You’re the most precious thing in the world to me and to your mother, too.”

Meri smiled up at him as he clasped the necklace around her neck. She was so lucky that this man had come into their lives and took them both into his heart. He’d been more than a stepdad; her real father couldn’t have loved her more.

Meri had noticed a cardboard box, a little larger than a shoe box, sitting in the alcove of the antique kitchen hutch. It was just an ordinary cardboard box that might be sent through the mail, though this one was dented and smashed from years of storage.

Now Gran went to the hutch, but instead of retrieving the box, she took an envelope from the top and brought it to the table where she placed it in front of Meri.

“Another present?” Meri asked.

Her father’s lips tightened. “Not exactly a present,” he said.

“More like a confession,” Gran said, and Meri swore there were tears in her eyes.

C
onfession? What kind of confession? Meri looked at Gran, but Gran was staring at the letter like it was poison. She felt her dad’s hand come to rest on her shoulder.

For an eon Meri could only look at the envelope.

Gran continued to stand on the opposite side of the table, her head bowed. Her father pulled out a chair and sat down next to her. “Open it. And just remember, it doesn’t change anything about our family.”

With a swift look toward him, Meri picked up the envelope, watching her trembling fingers from a distance like she sometimes did when she was working, suspending excitement or any emotion so as not to rush and chance marring the surface.

On the front was just her name, Merielle. Nothing more. No “to” and “from,” no “Happy Birthday.” Just Merielle. And the room became colder. She recognized her mother’s handwriting.

She turned the envelope over. It was sealed, and she really, really didn’t want to open it. Why had her mother left her a letter and why had they waited more than four years to give it to her?

It wasn’t as if Gran had just “come across” it while cleaning out the attic. Meri could tell by her face and her stooped shoulders that she had known about its existence. So why wait so long? And why now?

A young tabby jumped to the table, startling them all. He padded over to sniff the envelope. Gran swept him off the table with a brush of her hand. Not gently. Not like Gran at all.

Meri’s stomach began to ache.

She tested the seal, then gently worked the flap away from the envelope. It opened easily. Too easily for someone who had mixed feelings about opening it at all.

She pulled out the single sheet of stationery inside. She didn’t look up, afraid of the expressions she might see. She unfolded the paper.

Dear Meri.

The rest of the words swam before her eyes as they rested on the upper-right corner. August 2010. A few weeks before her mother died.

Meri sat there staring at the letter, waiting, hoping that one of them would pull it from her fingers. Say it was a mistake, just a joke, because from the few words she made out, this wasn’t an ordinary “advice to my daughter when I’m gone” letter.

Meri’s eyes fogged over. She swallowed hard, brushed at her eyes and read on.

Of course I’ll always love you.
But what was there to forgive? Was she the product of an affair while her father was off flying the friendly skies? She would never have thought her mother could be unfaithful, but it happened all the time. She wouldn’t judge her.

Meri blinked.
As I do?
What did that mean? Cold began to creep over her skin.

The room went out of focus. What baby? That baby was her. There wasn’t another baby. She cut a look toward her father, who tried to smile, she thought, but it just made his mouth look like a straight line. She dragged her attention back to the letter and the words she did not want to read.

Someone sobbed, but Meri couldn’t tell if it was her or Gran. She was not her mother’s daughter. Her mother’s daughter was buried at the little church down the road. It couldn’t be true. Meri shook her head, over and over; once she started she didn’t seem to be able to stop.

It wasn’t true. She had a birth certificate.
Not yours.
A passport.
Based on a lie.
A driver’s license.

Oh, God. It was a nightmare. She would wake up. She had to. Because if she didn’t, it would mean that her whole life had been a lie and she didn’t exist at all.