Breakwater Bay (6 page)

He beeped his car. “I’ll see you before I leave,” he said and got inside. She waved as she tipped her head into the chill and walked down the street. She heard his car speed away.

And immediately had second thoughts. Maybe they should have spent the night together like nothing was changing. But then what? It was better just to get it over with, make a clean break. They might weather the separation. If it was supposed to be, they’d get back together in the fall. Or someday. But someday was a hell of a long way away.

She walked slowly down the street, feeling bereft, at sea. When she reached the block where their favorite karaoke bar was, she stopped. Carlyn would be inside, singing her little heart out. Geordie and Trish would probably be there, too, singing backup without Meri. The four of them were regulars on karaoke night. They even had a bit of a reputation.

Meri chuckled. Some claim to fame. Maybe she wouldn’t go home. Maybe she really needed to be with her friends. She stopped on the corner, indecisive. She didn’t want to be alone just yet. Didn’t want to lie in bed in a dark room and wonder how her life had spun out of her control so fast.

What the hell, a drink, a song, good friends. She started down the street to the club.

Two girls were just finishing up a giggly version of “Signed, Sealed, Delivered,” when Meri walked in. The room was crowded and dark except where the half-moon stage was bathed in yellow gel lights, and she groped her way toward their usual table.

“And now, Carlyn and the Slow Tops.”

Carlyn bounced up and turned right in to Meri.

“You came,” she yelled over the whistles and cheers. She grabbed Meri and Meri barely had time to drop her bag and throw her coat on the back of a chair before Carlyn propelled her toward the stage.

“Carlyn, I’m not—I don’t.”

“Tell me later.”

She pushed Meri onto the stage. Meri took her place next to Geordie and Trish who stood at the second mic, off to the side.

Carlyn took the main mic and nodded to the deejay. The music began. Carlyn belted out, “Don’t take your—”

Meri cringed. Of all the songs, of all the nights. “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do.”

I
t took an eon with Meri holding on to every last shred of her control before the last “dooby doo down down” faded out. Cheers and whistles followed, while the Slow Tops and Carlyn took hands and bowed. Laughing, they ran off the stage, catching high fives and playful swipes. They fell into their chairs exhilarated, and Carlyn motioned to the waiter for more drinks.

Meri was the only one not laughing. She’d been wrong to try to socialize her way through this mess that was her life. She needed to go home and curl into a cocoon and come out a butterfly. She half smiled at that. Alden could make a wonderful series of drawings of it.

A guy in a Rhode Island School of Design sweatshirt climbed up the two steps to the stage. His cheeks were flushed and he fidgeted behind the mic until the words appeared on the screen. “This is for Hannah,” he said quickly. The audience returned a long
awww,
and “Can’t Help Falling in Love” started.

Carlyn nudged Meri. “So what happened to Peter? Did you leave him parking the car?”

Meri shook her head. “He went home.”

Carlyn frowned at her. The problem with best friends was they had radar for when you weren’t yourself. Ha. Not that she’d ever been herself.

“He went home?”

“Falling in Love” continued shyly and off-key behind her.

“And I’d better get going, too.” Meri stood up.

“You just got here.”

“Long day and I’m beat. I think I’ll get to bed.”

“It’s only eleven thirty,” Carlyn said.

The singer wobbled to a breathy finish.

Meri tried to smile, but reached down for her bag so Carlyn wouldn’t see her expression twist into pain. Then without looking at her friends, she waved a general good-bye and fled toward the door.

She was halfway to the corner when she heard footsteps behind her. Not a mugger, but her best friend. Meri’s instinct was to run, but she would have to face her sooner or later.

She stopped walking and resolutely turned and waited.

Carlyn had come out without her coat, and for some reason that made Meri want to throw her arms around her and thank her for being her friend.

“Okay. What’s going on? And don’t say nothing. Something Peter did. Or else he’d come with you.”

“He’s leaving next week, and—”

“Next week? What happened to September?”

“His uncle got him an internship at his law firm until school starts. Paid.”

“How’s he going to intern and work full-time?”

“He quit his job.”

“Holy shit. . . . But that’s okay, he’d have had to leave in the fall anyway. Maybe this will give you two more time together to decide what to do.”

Meri shook her head. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours that she knew she couldn’t begin to explain.

“What? Why are you shaking your head? He won’t have more time?”

“It’s in California.”

Total silence while Carlyn’s face registered dumbfounded shock. Then comprehension. “Oh, shit. That’s a pretty long commute for dinner. What are you going to do? Did he ask you to—”

“Don’t look so worried,” Meri said. “You’re not going to lose your doo-wop backup. I told him to go and have a good time or something like that.”

Carlyn frowned, scrunching her shoulders while she peered at Meri.

“You look like a turtle when you do that.” Meri’s voice cracked.

“You broke up?”

“No. Maybe. I’m not sure. It kind of looks that way.”

“I’m so sorry. But it’s only for a few months; you’ll get back together. You’re perfect for each other.”

Meri shrugged. Her throat was burning, and her mouth was much too dry to form words.

“Oh Lord.” Carlyn shut her eyes and grabbed her head with both hands. “That was absolutely the worst song to sing. Meri, I’m sorry. Sorry, I had no idea. But didn’t he ask you to come with him?”

“Sort of.”

“And you turned him down?”

“What would I do in Los Angeles? Dig out the La Brea tar pits?”

“Well, there is that. But I’m sure things will work out. Eventually.”

“There’s something worse.”

“What?”

Meri shook her head.

“OMG, you’re not pregnant?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then what?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I don’t even know why I said that.”

“Well, if it’s nothing, then come back inside.”

“No, I’m beat; really, I just stopped in for a minute. Go back inside; your teeth are chattering.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Then meet me for a run in the morning. Afterward, we’ll have waffles and lots of whipped cream at Barney’s. My treat.”

“That sounds good.”

“Ten o’clock at the Ruggles Avenue entrance to the walk. We’ll do the north route, loop back and take the forty steps a couple of times, then drown our sorrows in sugar.”

“Okay.”

“No cancellations.”

“All right. I’ll be there. Night.” Meri gave Carlyn a swift hug and walked away.

“Ten o’clock!” Carlyn called after her.

Meri raised her hand and kept walking.

The streets were pretty quiet for a Saturday night, still a bit wet from yesterday’s rain. The buildings seemed swollen and cold, the streetlamps doing nothing to warm the chill in the air. It was only two blocks to her apartment, but she began to rue wearing her platform shoes.

Meri was glad she’d left a light on. Coming home to a dark apartment might have put her over the edge. But she opened the door to a cheery, albeit empty, scene. She hung her coat up in the narrow coat closet, then went through to her tiny bedroom and neatly hung up her dress. And that was as far as she got before hurt, anger, and self-pity took over.

She sat on the edge of the bed that she would be occupying alone tonight, took off her shoes, and threw them as hard as she could through the open closet door. Then she crawled under the covers, underwear, makeup, and hair band still in place.

And lay there watching the numbers on the digital clock tick by.

T
herese Calder woke with a start. The house was dark. She listened for any sound that was different, but only heard the shushing of the sea and the whisper of branches as a breeze wafted through the trees.

She had a compelling urge to call Meri, just to make sure she was all right, but it was after midnight. She’d still be out with Peter. Therese hoped he would be understanding, not be one of those people who turned his back on his friends when they disappointed him. But why should he be disappointed in Meri? How could anyone be disappointed in her?

She was so loving and kind and compassionate.

Therese’s conscience writhed under guilt, old and new. For what she’d let happen thirty years ago, and what she’d done only last night. But what were her choices? Let the child be taken by Social Services, placed in some home that might love her but just as easily might have abused her?

In her heart, she knew they had done the right thing. And it wasn’t like they hadn’t tried to return the baby to her rightful family.

Therese cringed, chastising herself for her half-truth. They’d found the family and the family had not wanted to hear about their daughter or their grandchild, so she and Laura told them that the baby died with the mother. They left their address and phone number. But the people never asked about the grave or contacted her again.

They had erased their daughter from their lives and their love. And after meeting them, the decision to keep Meri had been easy.

God would either forgive her or not. She’d done what she thought best. Both times. And now she would have to act because of those decisions.

The box that belonged to Meri sat on the top shelf of Therese’s closet beneath a stack of quilts. But it burned through the closed door like some enchanted thing in one of Alden’s fairy tales. She wouldn’t be surprised to see it jump down from the shelf and run out of the house crying “Read me. Read me.”

She shuddered and nestled down beneath the comforter. How much longer could she live with that box in her possession? It didn’t belong to her. It belonged to Meri.

Tomorrow she would call Alden and ask him to drive her to Newport. He hardly ever went anywhere except to take the train down to New York to see his editors and agent, and he rarely went into Newport. She didn’t know what was wrong with the man, to live out here all by himself.

It was a comfort to have him nearby, but he should be getting on with his life. He’d been alone for—she thought back—six years? eight? A long time for a man in his prime. Was his marriage responsible for that, or had he been marked by what had happened three decades ago?

She would call him first thing tomorrow. Maybe they would stay and take Meri to a nice restaurant. Alden would see what he was missing and get interested in life again, instead of living with a bunch of imaginary creatures and an old lady for his only neighbor.

She would go back to sleep now. There were no frightening noises outside. The only sounds she heard tonight were the beating of her own heart and the shushing of the waves. . . .

M
eri lasted nearly twenty minutes before she had to get up and put her shoes away properly. Sometimes she wished she was one of those people who was überdetailed at work and a slob at home. But she couldn’t stand a mess. Which, if she allowed herself to think, was pretty much what her life was at the moment—a mess.

She pushed the blanket away and turned on the light. Rummaged around in the bottom of the closet, until she found the wayward shoes and returned them to their storage box. Looked at the coordinated rows of hanging clothes and had an overwhelming desire to yank them off the hangers.

Step away from the situation. You’re about to lose it and that’s not good.

Rattled, she stepped back and back, shook herself. Where had that urge come from? It was a dangerous thought. If she didn’t stay on an even keel, her whole life might come tumbling down.

She’d meet Carlyn in the morning for a run like always. Do the laundry in the afternoon, like always. Go to work on Monday, continue to work on the ceiling while she waited for the paint analysis to come from the lab.

That ceiling held untold possibilities: colors, patterns, maybe even gilt. It was a mystery to solve, hopefully one that would uncover a beautiful fascinating remnant from a life gone by. Meri shied away from the thought that her own past was a mystery—she wasn’t about to chip away at that. She doubted there would be anything wonderful or worth preserving from a runaway girl and an abandoned baby.

But as she brushed her teeth she wondered, what had the girl, her mother, been afraid of, what or whom? Her baby’s father, her parents? Was she running from the law, immigration? And just as that glimpse of gilt beneath all those layers of paint had set her blood racing, the desire to find out the truth settled inside her.

She needed to know. She wouldn’t hurt her family, the family who raised and loved her, her true family. But surely Gran wouldn’t mind if she asked about what had occurred at her birth. Did she look like that girl?

Her hair had always been darker than her mother’s, and Meri was taller by several inches. She’d just assumed her father was tall. But they both had blue eyes. The teenager must have had blue eyes. Did they have a picture of her? Did they know her name?
I need to know
. She would learn the facts, then she would leave it alone and get on with her life as Merielle Calder Hollis.

That’s who she was. The Calders had loved her and shaped her character and were always there for her. Alden was right about that. It wasn’t who birthed you. It was who nurtured you. She was a Calder Hollis, a Calder Hollis.

And those words followed her to sleep.

S
unday was another sunny day. Meri showered, changed into running clothes and shoes, and put her hair back in a ponytail. She filled a waist pack with credit cards, ID, keys, and cash, then added a water bottle and clipped it on. On her way out, she grabbed a fleece jacket in case it was cold.