Folly Cove (27 page)

“I don't know. Maybe.” Kennedy raised her head and felt the braid. Laura could see her daughter's smile in the mirror. “Elly says we all have to sing. Even you.”

“Oh, no.”

“Why not?”

“I haven't sung a note in more than twenty years!” Laura said. “My voice would sound like a rusty gate.”

“So you'll have to practice. Come on. We could practice together,” Kennedy said eagerly. “What songs do you know?”

“Not many, anymore,” Laura said with a sigh. “Anyway, I should really start dinner.”

Kennedy grabbed her hand. “Not until you sing! Please, Mom! I want to hear you. Elly says you always had a better voice than hers, even.”

Laura laughed. “Elly is being kind. She's the one who had the best chance of a singing career.”

“But she didn't make it,” Kennedy said.

“Not yet. But she might still.”

Kennedy shook her head. “She's too old, Mom.”

Laura felt terrible for Elly suddenly. But she supposed everyone went through that sort of disappointment. The bigger the dream, the harder the fall.

For a while she'd thought she might as well die as keep living, after she lost that first baby, knowing she might have given up her dream of making it to the Olympics for nothing. If Jake hadn't been so tender with her, so compassionate after the miscarriage, she never would have pulled out of that depression. Because of his steadfast belief that she would find her way, Laura had the courage to eventually open the stables and teach riding lessons.

Laura wished Elly had a husband, or even a boyfriend who gave her that kind of unwavering love and support. But her sister seemed to have no interest in men, except for the guy she worked with in California and had talked to occasionally while Laura was within earshot. He made her laugh. Laura had seen his name come up on Elly's phone a few times: Ryder. That was it. But he hadn't called in a while.

“Ready to sing, Mom?” Kennedy was standing in front of her now, hands on her hips. “Come on. I'll do it with you.”

“I don't know the words to anything,” Laura said.

“You must. What songs did you sing when you were a kid?”

“I don't know. Nothing comes to mind.” Laura stood up. “Come on. Let's go downstairs.”

“No! We have to do this!” Kennedy grinned. “You're my prisoner until you sing your way free.”

Laura sighed, but she felt the corners of her mouth twitch. “All right. Does it count if the song is dumb?”

“Any song,” Kennedy said eagerly. “Maybe you can even teach it to me.”

Laura laughed. “I doubt you'd want to know this one,” she said, and started singing “What Shall We Do with the Drunken Sailor?”

To her surprise, Kennedy chimed in, singing several verses with her. Afterward, the two of them collapsed on the bed, breathless and laughing.

“Where did you learn that song?” Laura said. “It's so old. Did Elly teach it to you?”

“No. Anne sings it to her baby,” Kennedy said, then slapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, crap,” she mumbled.

Laura reared up from the bed and grabbed Kennedy's wrist. “What did you say?”

Kennedy sat up next to her, blue eyes downcast. “Anne sings that song to her baby. That's how I learned it.” She peered through her fringe of blond bangs, gauging Laura's reaction.

“Who said you could see Anne?” Laura demanded.

“You didn't say
not
to,” Kennedy pointed out, suddenly chin-jutting and defiant.

“But you know how I feel about Anne,” Laura said desperately, wondering now what she'd told Kennedy. She couldn't remember.

Kennedy shook her head. “I heard you tell Aunt Elly that you don't want Aunt Anne coming around here, but I don't know
why
,” she said. “Why, Mom? What did she do?”

“It doesn't matter.”

“It does to me! She's my
aunt
! And Lucy is my only
cousin
!” Kennedy stood up. She went across the room and sat on the white wicker rocking chair. The chair that used to hold stuffed animals and now held a sulky teenager. “Just because you're pissed off at her doesn't mean I have to be!”

Laura sighed. How had she gone, within minutes, from singing and dancing with her daughter to this shouting match?

“No,” she said carefully. “You don't have to be angry at Anne. I was wrong to expect you to take sides.”

Kennedy hunched forward over her knees, rocking a little in the chair, her eyes wild. “But you'll be mad at me if I keep seeing her.”

“What do you mean,
keep
seeing her?” It took all of Laura's willpower to control her voice. “How many times have you been over there?” And how, she wondered, could she be so clueless about her own child's whereabouts?

Kennedy clenched her fists on top of her knees. “Three times. Just to see the baby, mostly.”

Despite herself, Laura was curious. “What's she like?”

“The baby?” Kennedy was grinning now. “So cute, Mom! She has red hair like Aunt Anne's! And it's curly! And Lucy laughs at everything! Anne taught me how to give her a bottle, and I've changed her diaper twice!”

Laura couldn't help smiling, too. “I bet you're a wonderful cousin.”

“You're really not mad at me for going over there?”

“No, honey, of course not. I just wish I'd known where you were.”

“You were busy,” Kennedy said. “You're always busy.” Her face shut down again.

Laura reached for her. “Come over here, you.”

Slowly, Kennedy uncurled from the chair and shuffled over to the bed, dragging her bare feet—blue toenail polish, another one of Elly's touches, probably—until she was standing in front of Laura. Laura pulled her down without warning and sat Kennedy on her lap, wrapping her arms around her.

“You still fit in my arms,” Laura said, burying her face in her daughter's hair. “And I bet Lucy is nowhere near as cute as you were when you were a baby.”

“Mom, you're being ridiculous,” Kennedy said, but she slumped against Laura's shoulder, a warm solid bundle, half child, half woman.

E
lly parked on the street as far from Jake's office as she could, while making sure she could still watch the door. A few minutes after five o'clock, she spotted Jake's receptionist, wearing a light-colored coat that billowed like a tent around her skinny legs, emerge with a green handbag big enough to carry a toaster. The woman climbed into a sporty Dodge and zipped out of the parking lot.

The next person out the door was the dental hygienist. She wore a red cape that made her look like a superhero and carried no handbag at all. Elly watched her closely as she waited in front of the building, half expecting Jake to come out and put his arms around her—she really was beautiful.

Instead, the hygienist was picked up by an older woman in a battered sedan. The poor thing must still live with her mother.

Elly had to wait ten more minutes for Jake. She nearly didn't recognize him. He'd ridden his bicycle to work—she had seen him leave home this morning, with his khaki pants cuffed by steel bracelets of some sort—but now he emerged from the office wearing what looked like a costume: a black motorcycle jacket and black jeans tucked into black boots. He carried a helmet under one arm that was definitely not a bicycle helmet.

Jake walked around to the back of the building. A minute later, he shot out of the alley on a red Suzuki motorcycle and made a rapid exit from the parking lot.

“What the hell, Jake?” she muttered as she pulled onto the street and followed.

Elly nearly lost track of him on the road, since she was working to stay a few car lengths behind. She was afraid Jake might recognize Laura's car if he spotted her in the rearview mirror. Plus, he was particularly adept at weaving between lanes of traffic. Her heart was hammering and she gripped the wheel so hard that her wrists ached.

He took the ramp to Route 128, but rather than head north toward Rockport, Jake took the southbound exit toward Boston. It was easier to keep him in sight on the highway. Elly followed at a steady distance, her eyes watering from focusing so steadily on her target. She was afraid to even blink.

Jake continued south to Route 60 in Medford. She took the exit ramp two cars behind him, nearly lost him in Medford center, then caught up on one of the side streets near Tufts University. For a minute, Elly felt silly for having been suspicious. Jake was probably visiting an old dental school buddy.

Then she remembered: Tufts Dental School was actually in Boston near the theater district, on the opposite side of the Charles River from Medford.

A few minutes later, Jake turned into the driveway of a three-decker blue house with porches on all three levels. The house was identical to most of the others on the street, aside from its bright color. It had a peeling white picket fence around a tangled garden that looked as if it had once been a labor of love but was now abandoned. Container pots of dead plants sat on the steps, interspersed with jack-o'-lanterns. The faces of the pumpkins had the usual triangle eyes and jagged teeth.

The only things on the porch were a swing and a bicycle. Paper ghosts and pumpkins decorated the first-floor windowpanes, low enough to have been put there by a child.

Elly parked across the street from the house. Jake turned the motorcycle off, dismounted it, and removed his helmet before climbing the stairs to the porch. He moved quickly, bouncing up the steps two at a time; he might have been a teenager, seen from this distance.

Jake turned the knob and entered the building without ringing any
of the three bells lit yellow by the black metal mailboxes. She had no way of knowing which apartment he was entering. Either the door to the front entry wasn't locked or he had a key.

Elly glanced at her watch: five thirty. Laura, she knew, was expecting Jake home at his usual time, around nine. Until then, she'd be tending to her students and Kennedy, making dinner, doing laundry.

Laura would have food ready to put on the table when Jake arrived. She would wait to eat with him and would probably have a bottle of wine open and ready to pour. Maybe she would have poured herself a glass before Jake got home and sipped it while she was cooking. These were her sister's habits.

Now, knowing that Laura had no idea where her husband went after work made Elly so furious that she slammed the door shut when she got out of the car. She mounted the steps to the house in a fury and tried the front door. It was locked. So Jake had a key!

Either that, or whoever lived here had been watching for him and let him in.

Damn it. Elly leaned her forehead on the cold front door. Did she really want to know what was on the other side?

For her sister's sake, yes.

She rang the third-floor buzzer, then the second floor. No answer. When she rang the first-floor buzzer—she'd chosen that one last, because of the obvious evidence of a child living there—she was admitted almost immediately to a front hall papered in a wild Chinese print: men in robes flying kites, decorative bridges, and flocks of birds on a bright gold background.

Given her suspicions about Jake, she fully expected a woman to open the door. Instead, she was greeted by a man. Thirtysomething, narrowly built. He had a cartoon hero's jutting jaw and a shock of thick black hair that stood nearly straight up, as if he'd been tugging on it. He was the sort of man who looked like he would swagger when he walked. A
swashbuckler
was the odd word that came to Elly's mind.

Then the man smiled and two deep dimples appeared on either side of his mouth, causing her to smile back despite her foul mood. He was cute and had teeth like sugar cubes. Elly could imagine sucking on them.

“Oh, hey,” he said easily, still grinning. “You're not the pizza delivery guy. Can I help you?”

“I'm looking for Jake.”

The man's face went nearly as white as his teeth. “I'm sorry, who?”

“Jake,” Elly said. “Jake Williams.” She edged the toe of her boot toward the door in case he tried to close it. “Tell him Elly's here.” She thought about adding, “His sister-in-law,” but decided to let the guy wonder if she was Jake's wife.

The man glanced down at her boot, then back up at her face. He had beautiful eyes, dark and soft. His expressions were so transparent that it was easy for Elly to track his thoughts: he was thinking about denying that he knew Jake but then decided to concede without a fight.

He sighed heavily, and it was as if all the air went out of him. His shoulders rounded over his skinny chest. Now Elly recalculated his age as more like late twenties.

“I guess you'd better come in,” he said.

“Pizza guy, pizza pie! Pizza guy, pizza pie!” a child cried from within the apartment. This chant was followed by a sharp screech that could have been made by a parrot.

A small boy ran into the room from the opposite side just as Elly entered from the front door. He was the source of the screeching.

The boy was a miniature of the handsome man. Dark hair, dark eyes, dimples. He even wore the same sort of outfit, a snug bright T-shirt and jeans. He was still shrieking. Elly covered her ears as the child ran smack into the man's legs, where he clung for dear life.

“I'm going to get you!” a man growled from the other room, and Jake came barreling after the toddler, hunched low in a monster pose, arms swinging heavily in front of him. He nearly ran into the other man, too, when he noticed Elly and almost failed to stop in time.

“Oh, Jesus,” he said, still hunched over, peering up at her. He straightened slowly. “Oh, God, Elly. What are you doing here?” He worked his jaw, as if it were threatening to seize up. “Is everything all right at home? How did you find me?”

Both men and the boy stared at her, wide-eyed, as if Elly had suddenly beamed into their living room from outer space. Which she
might as well have, because Elly could make no sense at all of what she was seeing. She could be in a parallel universe.

Was Jake here doing pro bono dentistry work? Was this man a cousin she didn't know about?

Then Jake touched the man's arm and she understood. Elly felt her mind go blank with shock. Her knees threatened to give out.

Jake stepped forward and took her arm, guiding her gently across the room to a couch strewn with tiny metal trucks. He brushed a few vehicles to the floor and sat her down.

“Is everything all right at home?” he repeated. “Are Laura and Kennedy okay?”

Elly wondered how to answer this as the little boy tugged at Jake's arm, begging, “Chase me, chase me!” How could Laura and Kennedy be okay? How would they ever be okay again, if this was the lie Jake had been living?

“They're fine,” she said. “They don't know I'm here.”

“Hey, Brad,” the other man said. “Let's go outside and watch for the pizza guy!” He opened the front door again.

The little boy ran to him and took his hand. “Pizza guy, pizza pie!”

Jake stood up, still looking agitated. “Wait. His jacket,” he said. “It's getting cold out.”

“He'll be fine for a few minutes. We'll just be right out front,” the man said over his shoulder to Jake, then closed the door behind him.

Elly glanced around the apartment. The furniture in the living room was inexpensive but comfortable: a faux leather couch and recliner, an artificial Oriental rug in bright orange and blue, framed prints on the walls.

In the next room, she could see a table laid with three red place mats. A crystal vase of fall flowers stood in its center, and the floor beneath the table was occupied by a complicated wooden train track looped around the table legs. Train cars were scattered beneath the table as if they'd tumbled off bridges.

“Brad's very into vehicles,” Jake said, following her glance as he sat down beside her again. “I'm sure he's going to be an engineer or construction worker. My son's all boy.” He said this last sentence wistfully,
startling Elly into wakefulness again. It felt that way: as if she'd been dreaming and was only now returning to consciousness.

“Brad's your
son
?”

Jake nodded, a flicker of pride in his eyes. “We had a surrogate. I'm not the biological father, of course,” he added quickly, seeing her expression. “I've just been helping Anthony raise him.”

“And Anthony is?”

“You just met him,” Jake said.

“We didn't actually meet.”

“Ah. No. I guess you didn't. All right. Anthony and I, we're, he's,” he said, and stopped to take a deep breath before finishing. “We're in love,” he said finally. “Oh, Jesus, Elly. I can't imagine what you must think of me.” Jake rubbed his hands on his black jeans vigorously, as if trying to warm them up, though the apartment was overheated. “Or maybe I can.”

Surrogate mothers were expensive. Elly thought of Laura's consignment clothing, of her sister's determined efforts to keep the heat low to save money. Of Laura asking their mother for Kennedy's tuition money. “I don't think you should worry about what I think, Jake. You need to worry about Laura.”

“She doesn't know about any of this.”

“Obviously. But you have to tell her.”

“I can't!” Jake's face was pinched. “I've tried, Elly. A
million
times, I've tried! But I can't do it. I can't hurt her!” His voice was desperate. “I'll lose everything! Kennedy would hate me. And what would she tell her friends at school?” He shook his head. “I know what that school's like.”

Elly stared at him in disbelief. “But you can't keep up this charade. What about Laura?”

“Do you think she'd really want to know?” Jake's face was so drawn that the outline of his skull seemed to press outward from beneath the skin, as if at any moment his cheekbones might jut through the flesh. “What would Laura do if she and I split up? I know she loves me. Look at all we've built together. The house. Her business and mine. Kennedy! I can't give all of that up, Elly. I don't think Laura would want to, either. At least not until Kennedy goes to college. Anthony understands. He's willing to wait.”

Elly wondered about this. Anthony had let her inside rather than keep her standing in the hall: maybe he'd wanted exactly this sort of confrontation to bring things to a head. He was a young man and still handsome. He and Jake had a child together.

Then she thought of Anne, and of Laura's suspicions. “What about Anne?” she asked. “What was all that about? Did anything really happen?”

Jake's lips had gone the same putty-white as his complexion. “Something. But not what you think.”

“You don't know what I think. So tell me.”

“I approached Anne. I did what she said.”

“But why, Jake? When you're so obviously attracted to men?”

“I wasn't always attracted to men.” He offered the ghost of a smile. “Or I didn't let myself know I was. With Anne, I was testing myself. Trying to manufacture something that wasn't there.”

Elly still felt confused. Unbalanced. “Manufacture what, exactly?”