Eden in Winter (9 page)

‘Hello.’

His tone of puzzlement caused her to appear even more amused. ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’

‘I should, obviously. I just don’t know for what.’

The woman laughed. ‘Nothing a man should be embarrassed to forget. The last time you saw me you were twenty-three and I was seventeen, and a little gawky. Since then, I’d like to think I’ve “blossomed”, as they say in those terrible romance novels.’ She extended a cool, dry hand for him to shake, a gesture clearly meant to be ironic. ‘So let me reintroduce myself. I’m Rachel Ravinsky.’

‘Whitney Dane’s daughter?’

‘The very one. You might remember me better if our mothers had been on speaking terms.’

This was another of Clarice’s many mysteries, and, as with the others, she had been notably elusive. Remembering what everyone still believed, Adam said, ‘It was usually my father who offended someone – he had so many weapons in his arsenal.’

Rachel’s smile became a grin. ‘One in particular, I always heard. I suppose everyone says you look just like him.’

‘Yep. But that’s where the resemblance ends. So are you living here?’

‘Not now, but I will be for a while. I’m a writer – like my mom, but not like her at all. I’m here for a day or two, moving some stuff from New York. Come the fall, I’m hunkering down at my parents’ house to start on my first novel.’

‘Then you write fiction?’

She put her hands on her hips, gazing at him in mock offence. ‘You haven’t read my short stories in the
New Yorker
?’

Adam smiled. ‘Sorry. I’ve been in Afghanistan. My peer group is more into
National Geographic
and
Guns and Ammo
. I don’t suppose you’ve written for them.’

‘Not yet.’ She cocked her head. ‘Aren’t you the slightest bit curious about what I’m doing on this dock?’

‘A little. But I somehow sensed you’d get around to telling me.’

Once more, Rachel looked amused. ‘I introduced myself to Mom’s arresting new tenant, who seems to have added further intrigue to your family’s all too intriguing story. Among other things, I took the opportunity to ask her about you.’

There was something mercurial about her, Adam sensed, as if she took a certain pleasure in stirring things up. ‘That
must’ve been interesting,’ he remarked. ‘You don’t recognize the normal conversational boundaries, do you?’

‘That was our mothers, Adam. I take the modern view that conversation involves an actual exchange of information. To my complete surprise, Carla volunteered that you were on the island. Given the familial strains, I couldn’t very well call your mom. But talking with Carla reminded me of you and this place, how you always sailed from here.’ Her voice took on the quiet of reminiscence. ‘I didn’t really expect to find you. But I always thought this one of the most beautiful spots on the island, and now it brings back my summers here when I was young. Another life; another girl.’ She gave Adam a curious look. ‘Back to the present,’ she enquired, ‘how
do
you feel about Ms Pacelli?’

Adam felt an edge he tried to keep out of his voice. Casually, he said, ‘I feel fine about her. Why wouldn’t I?’

Rachel shot him a sceptical look. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because she was your father’s lover, pregnant with his child, and an enormous embarrassment to your mother – as well as an expensive one. I can’t imagine you have no feelings about that.’

‘I have a number of feelings,’ Adam answered coolly. ‘Among them that I choose not to judge people by one sliver of their lives – short of theft, rape, child abuse, or the murder of someone who doesn’t deserve it. I don’t much like malice or unkindness, either. So I’ll leave maligning Carla to people who don’t know her. It’s good sport for the summer crowd in Chilmark, too many of whom require distraction from their lousy marriages and empty lives.’

Rachel looked defensive and a bit startled, betraying a vulnerability beneath her surface poise. ‘I seem to have
touched a nerve. If so, I’m sorry.’ She hesitated, adding quietly, ‘You’ve become a hard man, Adam Blaine.’

‘So I understand. Also an honest one, given the choice. So what
are
you doing here, exactly?’

Rachel looked down, then up at him again. ‘Let’s start over, all right? Would you mind sitting down for a minute?’

Adam hesitated. ‘Seems like there’s room.’

They sat beside each other on the dock, legs dangling over the water, looking at the hilly, tree-lined meadows beyond. ‘I was curious,’ she confessed. ‘When I was a teenager, I had a serious crush on you. Then suddenly you just vanished, and nobody knew why. It seemed so strange to me, and I couldn’t get you off my mind.’

Another person who wondered
, Adam thought,
another answer to avoid
. ‘I certainly hope you found some surrogates.’

Rachel smiled a little, still tentative. ‘A few.’

‘I can imagine,’ Adam responded more easily. ‘I’ll bet there were whole weeks in the last decade when I never crossed your mind.’

‘Days, anyhow. But I’m cursed with a literary imagination. Sometimes I found myself making up stories about you – what happened that summer; where you were. Now you’re back, and I can ask.’

Adam shrugged. ‘Why spoil a good story? I’m sure whatever you dreamed up is far better than reality.’

Rachel looked at him askance. ‘You really won’t tell me, will you?’

‘Nope. If only because there’s really nothing to tell.’

‘I guess I’ll have to wait, then. For all the thought I’ve given you, we really never knew each other. Though we may have more common history than you’re aware.’

Adam gave her a puzzled glance. ‘How so?’

Rachel’s returning gaze was serious. ‘Your mother never told you, I’m sure. But in her middle years, mine has become less buttoned up. After your father died, she explained why childhood friends became so distant.’

‘So enlighten me.’

Rachel faced the water. ‘When they were twenty-two, your father and my mother had a summer romance. I gather it was pretty serious for both of them – though Mom won’t quite say why, the end sounds quite shattering. Including for your father, though I find that sort of difficult to imagine.’

Surprised, Adam asked, ‘Because he was a compulsive womanizer, you mean?’

Rachel nodded. ‘That, and the idea of the two of them together. I love my mom, of course – when I was a teenager, she had the patience of a saint or a stone, and needed it. She’s kind, even-tempered, and so reliable that it’s incredibly annoying. But she’s a classic WASP. There’s nothing surprising about her, and she’s certainly not a sex goddess like Carla.’

This was so like the remark of a much younger woman that Adam found himself laughing. ‘I wonder how your father struggled by.’

‘Oh,
he
thinks my mother hung the moon.’

‘So do a lot of people,’ Adam replied. ‘At least as I recall. It’s heartening, if somewhat astonishing, to attribute such good taste to my father at twenty-two. Or at any age, with rare exceptions. But then you’re Whitney’s daughter, and there’s something solipsistic about how children view their parents.’ Adam paused a moment, then added, ‘Just because you can’t imagine the man you knew looking at your mother
like he did Carla Pacelli, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. It just means that she was fortunate to escape.’

Rachel looked sombre now. ‘You didn’t like him much, did you?’

‘No. Not much.’

Contrary to Adam’s assessment of her, she decided to let this go. ‘Anyhow,’ she assured him, ‘the summer romance I imagined for us might have ended better.’

Adam smiled at this. ‘My loss, I’m sure. My only excuse is that I had a girlfriend.’

‘I remember – Jenny Leigh. Whatever happened with that?’

Adam felt his face go blank. ‘We were too young, that’s all.’

For a moment, Rachel seemed to study his expression. ‘So is there anyone now?’

‘No. The company I work for is an agricultural consulting firm that moves me around a lot. So I’m not an ideal candidate for long-term relationships.’

A glint of mischief surfaced in her eyes. ‘What about short-term? Fortunately, I’m here until tomorrow.’

Adam shook his head. ‘I have plans, regrettably, and I’m going back to Afghanistan in two weeks. So one day’s a little
too
short.’

‘Coward,’ Rachel said in mock dismay. ‘Are you planning on coming back?’

‘I hope to. Maybe in four months.’

‘If you do, I’ll still be here.’ Ruefully, she added, ‘No way I’ll finish with my novel in four months. Or anything like that.’

Once more, Adam could feel her uncertainty. ‘Whatever time it takes,’ he assured her, ‘my father always said that the key was showing up.’

‘My mother says that, too. I just hope I’ve inherited her character and perseverance.’ Abruptly standing, Rachel touched his shoulder. ‘It’s been nice to see you, Adam. If you do get back here, please come find me.’

Without waiting for an answer, she was off, taking the catwalk toward the grassy bank with graceful, determined strides.

Pensive, Adam watched her go, then turned back to his contemplation of the pond and the sailboat. Inevitably, his mind turned back to what he could never talk about – to Rachel, or anyone else: the last fateful race, when he took the Herreshoff Cup from Benjamin Blaine, striking a blow to the older man’s voracious ego; the catalyst for a chain of events that nearly destroyed a young woman, and led to Adam’s absence from Martha’s Vineyard until the moment he had come to wish for deep in his soul – the death of the man who had betrayed him.

In search of distraction, Adam and Teddy repeated a ritual of their boyhood, paddling a two-man kayak across the Tisbury Great Pond.

They spoke little, preferring to enjoy the breezy early morning, still temperate as the sun began its ascent, the pleasant strain of their smooth but vigorous strokes propelling them through choppy waters toward the stretch of sand that separated the pond from the Atlantic Ocean. Arriving, they beached the kayak and walked barefoot toward the pounding ocean surf. Teddy preceded Adam, standing where the dying waves lapped his calves and ankles, wind rippling his curly brown hair. For a moment, he reminded Adam of the gangly teenage older brother he had always loved and defended to Benjamin Blaine. But now the first strands of silver had appeared in Teddy’s hair – overnight, it seemed – and his sensitive face, evocative of Jack’s, seemed careworn. Adam guessed that he was still not sleeping well.

Quiet, Adam stood beside his brother, leaving Teddy to his thoughts. Then he asked, ‘Still worried, Ted?’

Narrow-eyed, Teddy gazed at the horizon as the water became a brighter blue. ‘Wouldn’t you be?’ he asked, then added pointedly, ‘And
aren’t
you?’

‘Sure. I still think you and Jack are okay, and that they’ll decide to let the death of a dying man alone. But we won’t breathe easy until the judge and Hanley announce their decision.’

Ted frowned, regarding Adam with curiosity and concern. ‘This isn’t just about Jack and me, is it? Or, for that matter, Mom.’

‘It’s certainly not about
me
,’ Adam rejoined with a casualness he did not feel. ‘Unless wishing someone dead from ten thousand miles away is a capital offence.’

‘Stop bullshitting me, Adam. I don’t know what you did, but I’m damn sure you were looking out for me in ways George Hanley wouldn’t appreciate. Every piece of advice you gave me suggested that you knew what George and the police were doing and thinking.’ Teddy dug his feet in the sand, looking stubborn and discomfited. ‘Have you ever met with my lawyer?’

At once, Adam felt on edge, though the answer he framed was truthful. ‘Richard Mendelson? I only met Richard at the hearing, when you were being questioned.’

Though Teddy nodded, the concern in his expression was unchanged. ‘That’s what Richard told Hanley yesterday, when George called to ask the same question. But Hanley made a date to meet with him in Boston. He also wants to interview Richard’s secretary.’ He paused for emphasis. ‘Richard doesn’t think it’s about me – what could my lawyer tell him, after
all? He believes that, for whatever reason, Hanley is sniffing around you.’

Adam shrugged. ‘Let him, Ted. There’s nothing for George to find. I’m leaving here as innocent as I came.’

To shut off the conversation, Adam began walking along the water’s edge, as though intent on savouring the day. Teddy fell in beside him. ‘Why don’t we go out to dinner tonight?’ he proposed in a lighter tone. ‘Like normal people. It’s been a while since we showed our faces in public, except to answer questions, and some fresh fish at L’Etoile might go well with a crisp white wine.’

‘Sounds good. But it’ll have to be tomorrow – I’ve got dinner plans tonight.’

Teddy looked at him askance. ‘Carla? Again? I understand you’re serving as a bridge here, protecting the family’s interests. But isn’t this becoming a tad incongruous?’

Smiling, Adam put a hand on Teddy’s shoulder. ‘Why would you say that, Ted?’

*

Walking from his mother’s house to the guesthouse where Carla was staying, Adam could not help reflecting on the psychic distance he would cover in ten minutes. From Benjamin Blaine’s wife to his ex-lover; past the promontory from which Ben had ‘fallen’ in his family’s account, the scene of a homicide; to the spacious grounds where Rachel Ravinsky’s mother and his own had spent countless hours as girls and young women before something – quite possibly Ben – had come between them. But his mind kept returning to all he had done to protect Teddy. Most worrisome, that he had mailed stolen documents to Teddy’s lawyer, leaving himself vulnerable to George Hanley’s suspicions and Amanda Ferris’s malice and resentment.

He had been as careful as his training demanded. After printing out the documents he had photographed in Hanley’s office, he had put his cell phone and computer in a bag filled with rocks, driven a powerboat far offshore, and dropped them to the bottom of the Vineyard Sound. Further out, he had done this with his hard drive. Before putting the documents in a mailbox, he had made sure that neither they nor the envelope bore his prints. He did not think he had made any mistakes; he knew that he could not afford one.