Heroes Are My Weakness

  The side of Theo’s arm was solid against her own. “A more important question . . . Which one of you shot at me?”

  When no one answered, Theo turned cold eyes toward the woman in the platform rocker. “Barbara, why don’t you answer that question?”

  Barbara gripped the chair arms. “Of course it was me. Do you think I’d let anybody else take that chance?” She gazed at Annie, her expression pleading. “You were never in any danger. I’m one of the best marksmen in the Northeast. I’ve won medals.”

  Theo’s response was scathing. “Too bad Annie didn’t have the comfort of knowing that.”

  Judy fumbled in her pocket for a tissue. “We knew what we were doing wasn’t right. We knew that from the beginning.”

  Marie sniffed, as if she didn’t think what they’d done was all that bad, but Tildy had come to the edge of her chair. “We can’t keep losing our families. Our children and grandchildren.”

  “I can’t lose my son.” Louise’s gnarled hands gripped her cane. “He’s all I have left, and if Galeann makes him leave . . .”

  “I know you can’t understand,” Naomi said, “but this is about more than our families. It’s about the future of Peregrine Island and whether we can keep surviving.”

  Theo was unimpressed. “Spell it out for us. Explain exactly why stealing Annie’s cottage was important enough to turn decent women into criminals.”

  “Because they need a new school,” Annie said.

  Theo cursed softly under his breath.

  Judy sobbed into a crumpled tissue, and Barbara looked away. The boat captain took over. “We don’t have the money to build a school from scratch. But without it, we’re going to lose the rest of our young families. We can’t let that happen.”

  Barbara struggled to pull herself together. “The younger women weren’t so restless until the school burned down. That trailer is awful. All Lisa talks about is leaving.”

  “And taking your grandchildren with her,” Annie said.

  Marie’s bluster faded. “Someday you’ll know what that feels like.”

  Barbara’s eyes begged for understanding. “We need the cottage. There’s no place else like it.”

  “This wasn’t impulsive.” Tildy spoke with a desperate kind of enthusiasm she seemed to want Annie to share. “The cottage is special because of its view. And every summer, we can easily convert it back into a residential property.”

  “There aren’t enough decent summer rentals to keep up with the demand,” Naomi said. “The rental money will give us income we’ve never had to support the school during the year.”

  Louise nodded. “And keep up with the road repairs so it’s not so hard to get out there.”

  Rental money was income Annie could never have had because the agreement Mariah had signed had forbidden it. No surprise that Elliott had been more lenient with the islanders than with her mother.

  A note of pleading had replaced Naomi’s air of command. “We had to do it. It was for the greater good.”

  “It sure as hell wasn’t for Annie’s good,” Theo said. Pushing his jacket back, he rested his hand on his hip. “You know she’s going to the police with this.”

  Judy blew her nose. “I told you this would happen. All along I said we’d end up in jail.”

  “We’ll deny it,” Marie declared. “There’s no proof.”

  “Don’t turn us in, Annie,” Tildy begged. “It’ll ruin us. I could lose my shop.”

  “You should have thought about that a long time ago,” Theo said.

  “If this gets out . . .” Louise said.

  “When this gets out,” Theo retorted. “You’re trapped. You all understand that, right?”

  Marie sat as straight as ever, but tears leaked over her bottom lids. They sagged back into their chairs, reached for one another’s hands, pressed their faces into tissues. They knew they were defeated.

  Barbara was aging right in front of her. “We’ll make it right. Please, Annie. Don’t tell anybody. We’ll fix it. We’ll fix everything so you keep the cottage. Promise us you won’t say anything.”

  “She’s not promising anything,” Theo said.

  The door burst open, and two red-haired little girls raced in. Dashing across the room, they hurled themselves into their grandmother’s arms. “Grammie, Mr. Miller got sick, and he barfed. It was so gross!”

  “He couldn’t get a substitute teacher!” the younger chimed in. “So we all got to go home, but Mom went to see Jaycie, so we came here.”

  As Barbara gathered the girls in her arms, Annie saw the tears running down her powdery cheeks. Theo noticed, too. He shot Annie a frown and closed his hand around her arm. “Let’s get out of here.”

  THEO’S CAR BLOCKED THE SUBURBAN in the driveway. “How did you figure it out?” he said as they came down the front steps.

  “A woman’s perspective. Once you told me about the lease, I knew it could only be them.”

  “You understand that you have them over a barrel, right? You’re going to get the cottage back.”

  She sighed. “Looks that way.”

  He heard her lack of enthusiasm. “Annie, don’t do this.”

  “Do what?”

  “What you’re thinking about.”

  “How do you know what I’m thinking about?”

  “I know you. You’re thinking about giving up.”

  “Not giving up exactly.” She zipped her coat. “More like moving on. The island . . . It isn’t good for me.” You aren’t good for me. I want it all—everything you’re not prepared to give.

  “The island is great for you,” he said. “You haven’t just survived this winter. You’ve thrived here.”

  In a way, that was true. She thought about her Dreambook and how, when she’d arrived here, so sick and broken, she’d seen it as a symbol of failure—a tangible reminder of everything she hadn’t accomplished. But her perspective had been shifting without her recognizing it. Maybe the theatrical career she’d imagined had never materialized, but because of her, a mute little girl had found her voice, and that was something.

  “Drive out to the farm with me,” he said, “I want to check on the new roof.”

  She remembered what had happened the last time they’d visited his farm, and it wasn’t the puppets she heard in her head, but her own survival instinct. “The sun’s out,” she said. “Let’s take a walk instead.”

  He didn’t protest. They descended the rutted drive to the road. The boats in the harbor had been out at sea since dawn, and the empty buoys bobbed in the harbor like bath toys. She stalled for time. “How is the woman you helped?”

  “We got her to the mainland in time. She has some rehab ahead, but she should recover.” The gravel crunched beneath their feet as he steered her across the road by her elbow. “Before I leave, I’m going to make sure some of the islanders start getting their EMT certification. It’s dangerous not having medical help here.”

  “They should already have done it.”

  “Nobody wanted the responsibility, but with a group of them training together, they’ll have each other’s backs.” He took her hand to guide her around a pothole. She drew away as soon as they reached the other side. As she pretended to fix her glove, he stopped walking and gazed down at her, his expression troubled. “I don’t get it. I can’t believe you’re thinking about giving up the cottage and leaving.”

  How could he understand her so well? No one else ever had. She would start up her dog-walking business again; work at Coffee, Coffee; and book more puppet shows. The thing she wouldn’t do was go on any more auditions. Thanks to Livia, she had a new direction, one that had been taking shape inside her so gradually that she’d barely known it was happening. “There’s no reason for me to stay,” she said.

  An SUV with a missing door and bad muffler roared past. “Sure there is,” he said. “The cottage is yours. Right now those women are falling all over themselves trying to figure out how to give it back to you in exchange for your silence. Nothi
ng’s changed.”

  Everything had changed. She was in love with this man, and she couldn’t keep staying at the cottage where she’d see him every day, make love with him every night. She needed to rip off the bandage. And go where? She was healthy now, strong enough to figure something out.

  They began walking toward the wharf. Ahead of her, the American flag flying from the pole between the boathouses caught the morning breeze. She stepped around a pile of lobster traps and climbed the ramp. “I have to stop postponing the inevitable. From the beginning, the cottage was only a stopgap. It’s time for me to get back to my real life in Manhattan.”

  “You’re still broke,” he said. “Where are you going to live?”

  The easiest way for her to raise rent money quickly was to sell one of the Garr drawings, but she wouldn’t do that. Instead she’d call her former dog-walking clients. They were always traveling. She’d done house-sitting before. If she was lucky, one of them might need someone to stay with their animals while they were gone. If that didn’t work, her former boss at Coffee, Coffee would probably let her crash on the futon in the storage room. She was physically and emotionally stronger now than she’d been five weeks ago, and she’d figure it out.

  “I already have money coming in from the resale shop,” she told him, “so I’m not completely penniless. And now that I’m healthy again, I can get back to work.”

  They bypassed a length of chain attached to one of the granite mooring posts. He leaned down to pick up a loose stone. “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “Don’t you?” She said it easily, as if he’d revealed nothing of any importance, but her muscles tensed, waiting for what would come next.

  He hurled the stone into the water. “If you have to move out of the cottage while the island mafia fixes their mess, you can stay at the house. Take over as much of it as you want. Elliott and Cynthia aren’t arriving until August, and by then, you’ll be back where you belong.”

  This was Theo the caretaker speaking, nothing more, and where she belonged was back in the city reclaiming her life. The boathouse flag snapped in the breeze. She squinted her eyes against the sun glinting off the water. Her stay on the island this winter had been a time to regenerate. Now she saw herself with clearer eyes, saw where she’d been and where she wanted to go.

  “Everything is too uncertain for you in the city,” he said. “You need to stay here.”

  “Where you can watch out for me? I don’t think so.”

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his parka. “You make it sound so terrible. We’re friends. You might be the best friend I’ve ever had.”

  She nearly winced, but she couldn’t be angry with him for not loving her. It wasn’t in the cards. If Theo ever did manage to fall in love again, it wouldn’t be with her. It wouldn’t be with anyone so closely attached to his past.

  She had to put an end to this right now, and her voice was as steady as could be. “We’re lovers,” she said. “And that’s a lot more complicated than friendship.”

  He pitched another stone in the water. “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “Our relationship has always had an expiration date, and I think we’ve reached it.”

  He looked more peeved than heartbroken. “You make us sound like spoiled milk.”

  She needed to do this right. She needed to free herself, but also avoid stirring up his all-too-ready feelings of guilt and responsibility. “Hardly spoiled,” she said. “You’re gorgeous. You’re rich and smart. And sexy. Did I mention you’re rich?”

  He didn’t crack a smile.

  “You know me, Theo. I’m a romantic. If I hang around any longer, I might fall in love with you.” She managed a shudder. “Think how ugly that would be.”

  “You won’t,” he said with deadly sincerity. “You know me too well.”

  As if what he’d revealed to her about himself had made him unlovable.

  She curled her fingers into fists inside her coat pockets. When this was over, she’d feel like shattering into a million pieces, but not yet. She could do this. She had to. “Let me give it to you straight. I want a family. That means as long as I stay on the island when I don’t have to, as long as I keep entertaining myself with you, I’m basically wasting time. I need more discipline.”

  “You haven’t said anything about this to me.” He seemed annoyed, maybe hurt, but definitely not inconsolable.

  She pretended to be confused. “Why would I?”

  “Because we tell each other things.”

  “That’s what I’m doing. Telling you. And it’s not at all complicated.”

  He shrugged. “I guess.”

  The constriction around her heart tightened. He hunched his shoulders against the wind. “I suppose I’m being selfish wanting you to stay.”

  She’d had enough misery for one day. “I’m getting cold. And you’ve been up all night. You need some sleep.”

  He looked down at the wharf, then up at her. “I appreciate what you’ve done for me this winter.”

  His gratitude was one more gash to her heart. She turned into the wind so he wouldn’t hear the tremor in her voice. “Right back atcha, pal.” She straightened her shoulders. “I have to pee. See you later.”

  As she left him standing on the wharf, she blinked her eyes against the tears she couldn’t let herself shed. He’d given up on her so easily. Not really surprising. Duplicity wasn’t in his nature. He was a hero, and true heroes didn’t pretend to offer what they weren’t prepared to give.

  She crossed the road to her car. She had to leave the island now. Today. This very minute. But she couldn’t. She needed her Kia, and the big car ferry wasn’t due for eight more days. Eight days, during which Theo could show up at the cottage anytime he wanted. Unbearable. She had to fix that.

  As she drove back to the cottage, she told herself her heart would keep beating, whether she wanted it to or not. Time healed—everyone knew that—and eventually, time would heal her. She’d keep herself focused on the future and take comfort from knowing she’d done the right thing.

  But for now, comfort was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  TO ANNIE’S RELIEF, LIVIA HADN’T fallen back into muteness, and she happily showed Annie a turtle she’d made from Play-Doh. “I don’t know what to say to her,” Jaycie whispered while Livia was occupied. “I’m her mother, but I don’t know how to talk to her.”

  “I’ll get Scamp,” Annie said.

  Annie fetched the puppet, grateful for the distraction from her own painful thoughts and fervently hoping Scamp could guide the conversation Jaycie needed to have. She propped the puppet on the kitchen table across from the two of them and turned her attention to Jaycie. “You are Livia’s beautiful mother. I don’t believe we’ve formally met. I am Scamp, otherwise known as Genevieve Adelaide Josephine Brown.”

  “Uh . . . Hello,” Jaycie said with only minimal self-consciousness.

  “I will now tell you about myself.” Scamp proceeded to lay out her accomplishments, calling herself a talented singer, dancer, actress, housepainter, and race car driver. “I can also catch lightning bugs and open my mouth really wide.”

  Livia giggled as Scamp demonstrated, and Jaycie began to relax. Scamp continued chattering before finally tossing her yarn curls and saying, “I, Scamp, love free secrets because they help me talk about bad things. Like the bad things that happened to you, Livia, and to your mommy. But . . . Your mommy doesn’t know about free secret.”

  As Annie had hoped, Livia butted in to explain. “Free secret is when you can tell somebody something, and they aren’t allowed to get mad at you.”

  Scamp leaned toward Jaycie and said, in a stage whisper, “Livia and I would very much like you to tell us a free secret. We want to hear about that awful, terrible, horrible night you shot Livia’s father and he died dead. And since it’s a free secret, nobody can get mad.”

  Jaycie turned away.

  “It’s okay, Mommy.” Livia
spoke as if she were the adult. “Free secrets are very safe.”

  Jaycie hugged her daughter, tears filling her eyes. “Oh, Liv . . .” She pulled herself together. At first hesitantly, then gradually gaining strength, she talked about Ned Grayson’s alcoholism. Using language a four-year-old could understand, she explained how it made him violent.

  Livia listened raptly. Jaycie, fearing the effect her words were having, kept stopping to ask if Livia understood, but Livia seemed more curious than traumatized. By the time they were done, she was on her mother’s lap getting kissed and demanding lunch.

  “First, you must promise to keep talking to each other about this whenever you need to,” Scamp said. “Do you promise?”

  “We promise,” Livia said solemnly.

  Scamp stuck her head in Jaycie’s face. Jaycie laughed. “I promise.”

  “Excellent!” Scamp exclaimed. “My work here is done.”

  After lunch, when Livia wanted to ride her scooter on the front porch, Annie went out with Jaycie and settled on the top step next to her. “I should have talked to her from the beginning,” Jaycie said as the scooter bumped over the floorboards with Livia struggling to keep her balance. “But she was so young. I kept hoping she’d forget. Stupid of me. You knew right away what she needed.”

  “Not right away. I’ve been doing a lot of research. And it’s easier to be objective as an outsider.”

  “Not a good excuse, but thanks.”

  “I’m the one who’s thankful,” Annie said. “Thanks to Livia, I know what I want to do with my life.” Jaycie cocked her head, and Annie told her what she hadn’t yet confided to anyone. “I’m going to start training to be a play therapist—using puppets to help traumatized children.”

  “Annie, that’s wonderful! It’s perfect for you.”

  “Do you think so? I’ve talked to some play therapists over the phone, and it feels right.” This career fit her better than acting ever could. She would have to go back to school, something she wouldn’t be able to afford for a while, but she had a good academic record, and her experience working with kids might help her get scholarship money. If it didn’t, she’d apply for a loan. One way or another, she intended to make this work.