The Seafaring Girls: Five Island Cove, #7

Chapter One

Alice Rice got up from her desk when she heard the back door open. The twins were home from school. Or at least one of them was, as Alice glanced at the bright pink sticky note on her computer. Ginny’s working today! had been scrawled there, in her daughter’s handwriting.

She smiled at it and tapped it as she went by the computer on the other side of the desk. Charlie? she called as she stepped into the hallway. Down and around the corner into the back of the house showed her that her son had indeed arrived home from school, but he wasn’t alone.

His girlfriend, Sariah Page, had come with him, and she currently had her fingers fisted in the collar on his jacket, kissing him.

Alice cleared her throat, and Sariah and Charlie jumped apart. He looked at her, plenty of panic in his eyes. Hey, Mom. He cleared his throat too, and she dang near rolled her eyes.

Didn’t think I’d be home? She folded her arms and glared. Hello, Sariah.

Hey, Alice. She hovered half a step behind Charlie. I should go, Charles. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Okay, he said, following her to the garage exit. They didn’t kiss again, and the pretty blonde slipped outside. He faced her, his usual devil-may-care expression on his face. I knew you’d be home.

You seemed surprised.

I’m a little surprised. You don’t always come out of your office the moment we get home. He sighed and opened the fridge. I don’t know what to do about Sariah.

Alice scented blood, and she moved in for the kill. What do you mean? She strode toward him, telling herself to calm down, move slow. Big movements could scare the teenagers away.

I mean…I like her. She’s pretty. She’s smart. He closed the fridge and opened the cupboard, obviously trying to do anything he could not to look at Alice. But she’s also going to NYU in the fall, and…I’m not.

Ah, I see, Alice said. Charlie had never particularly excelled in academics—except for chemistry. He loved the stuff, and he had applied to Boston University. He’d gotten in too. No scholarship. No nothing. He’d have to pay for all of it, and Alice had helped him look into getting grants to help fund it.

Truth be told, he hadn’t even decided if he was going to go or not. She knew one of his New Year’s goals was to make a decision for the fall, but only a week into January, and he hadn’t done it yet.

Alice was trying not to put any pressure on him. A pressured, cornered Charlie usually wasn’t a good thing.

Plus, Charlie said, and he turned his back on her. Alice sat at the bar, ready for anything. Or so she thought.

Mandie and I have been talking again, he said, and Alice so wasn’t ready for that. She almost toppled off her barstool she flinched so hard.

What? she asked, her voice mostly made of air. Mandie Grover?

Yes. Charlie pulled down a box of popcorn and turned toward her. Can I make this?

Sure, she said. Arthur wasn’t home from the high school yet, but he loved popcorn as much as Charlie did. Alice was just glad they had something in common, though Arthur got along very well with the twins. He was one of those special breeds of human who actually liked and understood teenagers, and they liked and understood that he just wanted them to be the best they could be.

He’d helped Ginny a lot with her college applications, and she’d gotten into NYU, BU, Yale, and Towson. Charlie had only applied to Boston University, and he’d gotten in, so that had spared him from feeling like a failure compared to his sister, something Alice knew he did a lot.

And? she prompted. What about Mandie?

I’m thinking…I don’t know what I’m thinking.

Alice watched him put the popcorn in the microwave and start it. Her mind whirred like the appliance, and she drew a breath. I think I know what you’re thinking.

What’s that, Mom? He finally gave her his full attention, plenty of challenge on his face. He looked so much like his father, but he was much gentler, and much kinder. Alice thanked God for that every day.

I think you’re wishing you didn’t have a girlfriend, she said. Then it wouldn’t be so confusing to be friends with Mandie. You might even be able to take her to a dance this spring and hang out with her in the summer.

Charlie didn’t make a face and sigh, which meant Alice was right. He’d never admit it right away, and he simply turned to get out a big bowl for his popcorn. The buttery, salty scent of it started to fill the air, and Alice let the silence fill the spaces between what she’d said.

Maybe, Charlie said as he opened the microwave and shook the bag of popcorn. And Mom, you were right about girls.

Which part? Alice got to her feet and approached her son. She curled her hand down the side of his face and around to the back of his head.

They’re aggressive, he said. He shook salt all over the popcorn and looked at her again. Sariah wants to, you know. Do it before we graduate. I told her you’d be home this afternoon, and she still sort of attacked me when we walked in.

Alice narrowed her eyes. She’s being aggressive with you?

I mean, I think so, Charlie said. "Maybe it’s just because you’ve talked to me and talked to me about sex, and girls, and I don’t know." He did the hefty sigh she’d heard before and walked into the living room.

Alice stayed in the kitchen, almost afraid to move. His girlfriend wanted to sleep with him, and he hadn’t done it yet? She wasn’t sure if she should rejoice or panic. Usually, the guy had to convince the girl that everything would be okay. Not having that barrier would make everything easier for Charlie.

Her stomach churned, and now the popcorn smelled slightly charred instead of delicious and buttery.

She turned as the garage door opened again, and this time, her husband of four months walked in. Hey, beautiful, he said, a smile curling the ends of his mouth instantly. He took her into his arms, and Alice pulled on Arthur’s strength and stability to use in her own life.

Hey, she whispered into his shoulder.

He pulled back and looked at her. Everything okay? His gaze skimmed further into the house, obviously searching for what had upset Alice.

Yes, she said firmly. Everything’s fine.

Arthur took his briefcase over to the counter that acted as a credenza and said, Hey, Charlie. How was school?

Great, Arthur, Charlie said, flipping through the channels without looking at his step-father.

Arthur turned back to Alice, and she shook her head. Her son was sitting here, bored out of his mind while he tried to find something to watch on TV, when he could be with his girlfriend. It wasn’t that hard to find somewhere for two teenagers to go, not if they were both properly motivated.

Charlie obviously wasn’t, and Alice didn’t want to disrupt something in the cosmic universe by freaking out about nothing.

Yet, she told herself. She didn’t have anything to freak out about yet.

A week later, Alice hummed to herself as she went around the house, picking up socks, shoes, and dishes. No one seemed to be able to get anything where it belonged except for her. She’d needed a break from her case—a nasty dispute between two parents fighting over their kids—so she didn’t mind the clutter that had accumulated this week.

She usually made everyone go around on Saturday for a few minutes and help her put the house back together. This week, they’d been busy with Arthur’s mother, who didn’t have very much time left on this earth. She’d been sick for a while, and Alice would miss her once she finally passed.

The silence in the house filled Alice with peace, where it had once struck her with fear. She knew now that no one was going to ring her doorbell and judge her the way they did in the Hamptons. She had no images to protect or uphold here. No pretenses to live up to.

She was a busy lawyer who worked from home, with two kids who’d graduate from high school in six short months, a new husband to dote on, and plenty of household chores to keep her busy.

Her phone chimed in her back pocket, one notification after the other, telling her that her friends had started a lively conversation while she’d been in a dead zone picking up plates with dried cheese on them from Ginny’s nachos last night.

The device continued to sing at Alice until she put all the dirty dishes in the sink and pulled it from her pocket. My goodness, she said, swiping to see what was so important.

I’m dying, Eloise had sent. Billie got asked to Sweethearts today. She’s fourteen. Aaron’s going to go ballistic. I need all the chocolate I can get to sweeten him up.

Who asked her? Robin had asked immediately. Now that she wasn’t swamped with clients, she had more free time to respond to texts quickly. Not that she hadn’t before. Her cellphone was practically sewn to her fingers.

Alice’s was too, so she wasn’t judging. She did so much business with her phone, and it was easy to get absorbed into it for long periods of time and not even know it.

A boy named Luke Howard, Eloise said. He’s a year older than her, and Aaron’s not going to like that.

It’ll be okay, AJ had said. The Howards live right by us, and they’re a good family.

Agree with AJ, Robin said. The Howards are good people.

Aaron’s looking them up right now, Laurel sent as Alice watched. She sent a winking emoji, but Alice didn’t think she was kidding at all. The Chief of Police would probably run a background check, call them in for fingerprinting, and do a deep dive into their past going back generations. He had all the resources to do it.

How wonderful for her, Kristen sent.

Jean chimed in with, I can help with a dress if she needs one.

I don’t even know if it’s formal or not, Eloise said.

It’s not formal, Robin said, and she would know. Robin knew everything that happened in the cove, and sometimes she irritated Alice. At the same time, there was no one Alice loved more than Robin Grover. But it’s not casual either, she said. It’ll be best dress. Not jeans. Not prommy.

Alice didn’t really have anything to add to the conversation, but she tapped out, It’ll be okay, Eloise. He’s got a month to get used to the idea, right?

Good point, Eloise sent. I just wish they got along better. He’s so protective of her.

There could be worse things, Kelli said. How exciting for her to be asked. How does she know Luke?

The conversation went on from there, but Alice had work to do. She rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. She wiped down all the counters and the stove. She straightened all the pillows in the living room and took the kitchen trash out to the big, black can Charlie towed out to the street on Thursdays.

She started a load of laundry, taking Ginny’s clean clothes upstairs to her room. She peeked in the twins’ bathroom and frowned. She didn’t clean their rooms or do their laundry, but she would come up here to make sure the toilet and tub weren’t going to rust through or be stained permanently.

Obviously, no one had cleaned this bathroom for a while, and Alice couldn’t even remember whose turn it was. The garbage can lid bulged open, and she stepped into the bathroom to collect that.

She opened the lid, her hand already reaching for the sides of the bag that had been pulled over the can. She froze, her breath wheezing into her lungs, at the sight of the pregnancy test sitting there.

It had been used, and it showed only one line.

Not pregnant.

Her heartbeat sounded like a bass drum as it banged through her whole body. Whose was this?

Her mind raced; Sariah had been over to the house just yesterday, along with the rest of the Academic Olympiad team she was on with Charlie. She’d asked to use the bathroom, and since someone else had been in the half-bath off the kitchen, she’d gone upstairs.

Ginny had a boyfriend, but to Alice’s knowledge they hadn’t slept together.

She pulled in another breath, and the extra oxygen reminded her of the conversation Charlie had had with her last week about Mandie. They’d been talking and texting again—Alice checked his phone regularly—and Mandie had dropped by two or three days ago. She’d talked to Charlie and Ginny together on the front porch for about a half-hour, left a loaf of chocolate chip banana bread, and gone home.

Alice didn’t recall her coming in the house. Charlie couldn’t be sleeping with her…could he?

She reached for the pregnancy test, dislodging some used make-up remover wipes. In her mind, teenagers were so very stupid, because whoever had put this in the trashcan should’ve done a better job of hiding it. Even if it had been under the make-up remover wipes, Alice probably wouldn’t have seen it.

With the stick in her hand, Alice felt like she was swimming outside of her body. Nothing made sense, and questions formed her whole world. Her feet felt like they were slipping down a muddy slope, and she couldn’t catch herself.

Bottom line, she needed to know who’d used this pregnancy test. No matter who it was, Alice felt like her whole world was about to change.

Chapter Two

Jean Shields could not stop crying. Every time she managed it for even a moment, her mind would attack her, and the tears would flow again.

I’m so sorry.

There were so many things those words couldn’t make up for. Having a baby taken from her was one of them, and Jean reached for another handful of toilet paper as a fresh set of tears ran down her face.

At least her crying had gone down a notch from the howling sobs she’d dissolved into earlier that morning.

I’m so sorry, Jean.

She was so sorry too. She’d used the same words to cancel her sewing students for that afternoon, and she honestly didn’t know how to even leave the bathroom. She had no idea how to tell her husband. Reuben had been as excited and as anxious as Jean to finally have a human baby to take care of.

Outside the bathroom, both of her dogs lay on the carpet, watching her. If she even twitched, they lifted their heads, and Jean had sobbed into Timber’s neck for a good twenty minutes right after receiving the horrible text from her adoption case worker.

The birth mom has a relative who said she’d take the baby.

Jean brought her knees to her chest and set her forehead on them. Her own mother had been so excited. She’d come to the cove twice in the past four months to help Jean set up a nursery. Kristen, Reuben’s mother, who lived only fifteen minutes away on the other side of Diamond Island, had sat with Jean in the afternoons while she made baby dresses in a variety of sizes.

They’d spent a small fortune on bedding, a crib, diapers, bows, a stroller, and every other baby item on the market.

Jean knew this was her only chance to raise a child, as she’d turned forty-one in December. Reuben would be forty-four in March, and their case worker had already admitted their age might keep a birth mom from selecting them.

She’d had no idea that the adoption could be stolen from her at any moment. Had she known that, she wouldn’t have painted the walls a soft pink. She wouldn’t have sewn baby giraffe curtains, with the cutest zoo animals in the background. She wouldn’t have been shopping online for blessing dresses and scrapbooks and digital picture frames.

Jean wanted to scream. She wanted to shake her fists to the sky and bellow at God for His cruelty in allowing her to love the baby that she’d never even get to see now. She wanted to pound the earth the way hail did, and she wanted to whip her fury against the cliffs the way the wind got to.

As it was, Jean, a woman of only five-feet, three-inches and barely a hundred and twenty pounds, sat on her bathroom floor and sobbed into her arms.

This was hell, and Jean had no idea how to find her way out of it. There was no ladder tall enough to get her to the top. There was no floatation device that could keep her from drowning.

The dogs—she and Reuben had parented several over the years—lifted their heads, both of them looking down the hall and toward the microscopic kitchen on the bottom level of the lighthouse where Jean lived.

It had taken her some months to warm up to the idea of living underground, but Reuben loved the lighthouse, and Jean loved Reuben. They’d had many years on the mainland near her parents, and it was time for him to be here, with his mother.

There you are, his voice said, and Jean wanted to disappear. She didn’t want him to find her like this, but she couldn’t get herself to move.

He bent down and patted the dogs. What are you guys doing—? He’d spotted her, and Jean didn’t have anything to say.

Honey. He stepped into the tiny bathroom and knelt in front of her. Are you hurt?

In so many ways, yes. The kind where she bled? No.

She cried so hard she couldn’t answer him, and Reuben ran his hands down her arms, his eyes searching for injuries.

Hon, he said again. Talk to me. Calm down a little and talk to me. He wrapped her in strong arms that could pull in heavy, wet ropes from the sea. He smelled like coffee and peanut butter, what he’d likely consumed for his afternoon snack. The man loved a good peanut butter cookie, and Jean had nothing better to do than perfect her recipes and provide food for her husband.

She needed something to do. Something to give her purpose in her life.

She clung to him, feeling the soft quality of his cotton shirt against her face and giving him some of the agony that had plagued her for hours. My phone, she managed to say, and Reuben picked it up from where it sat on the closed toilet seat.

He kept her close, and the awful messages didn’t take long to read. No, whooshed out of his mouth, and Reuben sat down heavily on his knees, no longer trying to kneel up. He probably couldn’t, because Jean knew that feeling of suddenly carrying the world on her back.

That was how Miranda’s texts had felt. Like she’d tossed Earth, then Mars, then Jupiter onto Jean’s back with the words, I’m so sorry.

She also knew it wasn’t Miranda’s fault that the birth mom had changed her mind. Jean supposed they’d been warned that birth moms could do that, especially young ones. The one that had chosen them was in her early twenties, though, and Jean and Reuben only had five weeks to go until their baby would be born.

Not your baby anymore, she told herself, finally feeling some semblance of peace enter her heart. That came from Reuben, because while the man was tall and a bit bear-like in the breadth of his shoulders, he possessed a marshmallow heart. He was kind, and good, and loyal. He was hard-working and strong, and Jean loved him with everything she had.

I’m okay, she said, taking a breath. Air felt like cement in her lungs. You’re here. I love you. Tears leaked down her face as she pulled back. We’re okay, and that’s all that matters.

Reuben cried too, and she hated seeing the broken, anguished look on his face. I’m so sorry, Jean. I—I don’t even know what to say or do.

I don’t either, she whispered. Maybe you could help me up? I’ve been in here for hours.

After crying for those initial twenty minutes, Jean had gone into shock. She’d wandered the lighthouse living levels—there were two—and once she’d realized what was happening again, she’d needed to throw up. Pure devastation could make one nauseous, she supposed.

Reuben stood and lifted Jean easily into his arms. Do you want to lie in bed? he asked, his voice low.

She nodded and clung to him. He laid her on her side of the bed after pulling back the blanket, and he tucked her in tightly. Jean started to cry again, and when Reuben slid into bed with her, his boots and jeans off now, they held each other and wept. Both dogs jumped up onto the bed, but Jean didn’t find their presence as comforting as she once had.

I love you, he whispered. You’re enough for me.

I love you too, she whispered back. You’re enough for me too.

It still hurts, he said, his arms around her gently, but with plenty of pressure so she’d know how very much he wanted her to be close to him.

Yes. She closed her eyes and tucked her face right against his chest, where she could hear his heart beating and smell the scent of his skin. It hurts so much.

I can’t cry all day today, Jean said the next morning. Reuben looked at her over the top of his coffee mug. Can I come up top with you?

Of course, he said. No sewing today either?

I canceled all week, she said, looking away now. That way, my students will still be even. She stirred her coffee absently, and she still hadn’t taken a sip. Did you tell your mother?

Yes.

So Kristen would be coming by today. Jean was surprised she hadn’t arrived yet, actually, though she supposed it was only five-thirty in the morning, and Kristen was seventy-eight years old now.

She’d probably told all her girls, and Jean’s eyes filled with tears. She didn’t want to see anyone. She didn’t want to talk about it. She didn’t want cards, gifts, food, or sympathy. It would only make her feel weak.

Her phone sat on the table in front of her, and she swiped it on.

She’s going to bring lunch, Reuben said, his voice so quiet. Everything about living underground was so quiet, and Jean found that urge to scream some sound into their living space increasing once more.

I don’t want her to bring lunch, Jean said, plenty of bite to her tone. I don’t want to cry all day today. She met her husband’s eyes, and he nodded.

I’ll tell her. He picked up his phone and started typing.

Jean looked at her texts. None of the women she’d spent last summer and fall, then the holidays, with had texted her. The group text had gone quiet after Eloise had told everyone about Billie getting invited to the Sweethearts Dance. Either Kristen hadn’t told them, or she’d used a different group text—one with Jean not on it.

That idea made bitterness surge up her throat, and Jean started typing a message to the whole group.

I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Reuben and I lost the baby. I don’t want to talk about it right now. It’s too raw for me. We don’t need any food. I don’t want to push you away, but I really don’t want to cry all day today, so it’ll just be easier for me if everyone just gives me a little space and a little time to process it.

Jean didn’t think there was enough space in the universe, or enough time left in her life, for her to get over this. Her mother had told her she was over-dramatic growing up, and Jean pulled back on the reins of that dramaticism. Perhaps she would find a way through this confusing maze of disappointment and grief.

But right now, she just wanted to be alone.

I’ll bring my eReader up to the top, she said as she finally lifted her coffee mug to her lips. She couldn’t remember if she’d eaten yesterday or not, as everything felt hollow and strange inside her. And I’ll just read by you. Is that okay?

Reuben got up and came around to her side of the table. It’s absolutely okay, he whispered, dropping into a crouch beside her. I’m worried about you, Jean. Do we need to go see the therapist again?

She traced her fingers down the side of her husband’s face, enjoying the soft quality of his salt-and-pepper beard, and the concern in his dark eyes. She’d seen a mental health professional for years, off and on. She’d had trouble accepting her infertility, and she often suffered from depression.

Moving to the cove permanently had actually been wonderful for her, as she’d learned to rely on herself and on Reuben, instead of her mother and sister in New Haven. Forging a friendship with Kristen had buoyed her up, and when Kristen started bringing her to the Wednesday luncheons with the other ladies, Jean’s outlook on life had improved drastically.

Those women cared about her, and she cared about them. She loved being involved in their lives, and she looked down at her text again. It was all still true, and while she knew Robin, Alice, Eloise, AJ, Kelli, and Laurel would be at the lighthouse in two minutes flat if she asked them to be, she really didn’t want to cry all day today.

She sent the text and focused on her husband again. Yes, she said. I think I need to see someone again. She appreciated that he’d said we when he’d asked her, but the therapy wasn’t for him. Sometimes he did attend her sessions with her, if her doctor wanted him there, or Jean did.

He’d dropped everything for her over the years, and Jean felt like such a failure. She couldn’t get pregnant. Couldn’t give him the children he wanted. Her body literally couldn’t do what it was meant to do, and she’d never felt so broken before.

More tears pressed behind her eyes, especially when her phone vibrated. That was probably Robin or Alice, as they had older children who got up early for high school. Jean suddenly didn’t want to see their replies. Even reading how sorry they were about the loss of the baby would make her cry.

All right. Reuben drew her into a hug. Leave your phone here, hon. Get your eReader. Let’s go up top and watch the sun rise together.

She nodded and left her phone right where it was on the table. She’d have to deal with the messages later. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d just delete them all and pray someone else would have something to talk about soon enough.

When she returned from the bedroom with her eReader, Reuben took her hand and raised it to his lips. What about the Seafaring Girls? he asked, his voice low and kind. My mom’s been asking you to do it, and you couldn’t because the baby was coming.

Jean heard the unspoken words. Now there’s no baby coming, Jean. What are you going to do with your life? Who cares that you’re even on this planet?

She’d resisted becoming the Seafaring Girls leader, because the program was starting the first week of March,