Summer Sisters

  “Sure,” Vix said, “no problem.”

  But at six P.M. he called from Boston. Logan was fogged in. A real bummer. He wouldn’t be able to get back until morning. Vix couldn’t believe he would leave them alone overnight in Psycho House.

  “I’m not afraid of the dark,” Caitlin said. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  Neither did Vix, exactly.

  After an early supper, Sharkey offered to take them for a drive in the truck. At fourteen he had no license, not even a learner’s permit, but he was a careful driver—two hands on the wheel at all times, always under the speed limit. He drove them up island and down, but he wouldn’t stop, not even for ice cream. Something about the battery. By the time they got back it was after nine and there were flashes of lightning in the distance. Twenty minutes later all the lights in the house went out. Caitlin tried the phone. “Dead,” she said, striking a match and lighting a candle.

  A violent storm followed. Sweetie trembled and hid beneath Caitlin’s bed. Sharkey dragged a sleeping bag into their room and camped out on the floor. Vix huddled next to Caitlin, in Caitlin’s bed, covering her eyes as each bolt of lightning lit up the sky. Trees went down in the woods and the rain turned to hail, pelting the house like a machine gun. “It’s just a storm,” Caitlin said. “I don’t know why you’re both acting like Sweetie.”

  In the morning Lamb called to say he’d be home by noon and he was bringing a friend.

  “A friend?” Caitlin said.

  “Probably Abby,” Sharkey told her, grabbing a handful of Cheerios from the box, dribbling them into his mouth.

  “Abby?” Caitlin said. “Who’s Abby?”

  “Some woman,” Sharkey told her. “Woman?” Caitlin said. “You mean woman as in girlfriend?”

  Sharkey shrugged.

  “Lamb has a girlfriend and he didn’t tell me?” Caitlin asked.

  He shrugged again.

  “I’m his daughter. I should be told these things.”

  “He’s not a monk, you know,” Sharkey told her, “any more than Phoebe’s a nun.”

  “But he’s never brought anyone here! The Vineyard’s always been just for us.”

  They arrived in time for lunch—Lamb, the woman named Abby and her son, Daniel Baum, who was Sharkey’s age. Abby greeted Sharkey as if they’d met before but it was clear the two boys hadn’t and neither one was thrilled. Daniel was two heads taller than Sharkey, preppy, with Top-Siders and an alligator shirt. He acted bored.

  Abby was almost as tall as Lamb, rail thin, pale, with baby-fine brown hair hanging to her shoulders and bangs drifting toward her eyes. She wore jeans, a terrific T-shirt, and wavy-soled shoes that made her seem even taller. Abby smiled at Caitlin, told her how happy she was to meet her, how much she’d heard about her. Daniel yawned, really loud, without covering his mouth. Caitlin looked like she was going to throw up.

  They came into the house through the kitchen door and were hit by last night’s mess—the macaroni and cheese pot on the floor, licked clean by Sweetie, their gooey plates still on the table, together with boxes of breakfast cereals, banana skins, and a half-eaten piece of toast smeared with grape jelly. Abby’s face registered surprise, then disgust. Vix spied the milk carton on the counter and tried sneaking it into the fridge, but Abby didn’t miss that either.

  Sweetie, who’d been resting under the table, began to bark and when Daniel kneeled down to pet her she growled at him. “Jesus … what kind of dog is this anyway?” Daniel asked, jumping out of the way.

  “A lab,” Lamb said. “She’s usually very friendly.” He opened the door and shooed Sweetie outside.

  “Well …” Abby said, trying to be positive. “This house has a lot of … possibilities.”

  They went on an island tour, all six of them crammed into the Volvo, the two boys in the back seat, one staring out the left window, one staring out the right, and Caitlin and Vix on the floor in the way-back with Sweetie. Lamb opened the rear window so they wouldn’t suffocate. In the front, Abby and Lamb were just la-ti-da, as if this were even better than the Brady Bunch. While they were gone the cleaning service would be trying to whip the house into shape. They’d told Lamb it would take all day, maybe two days. Lamb promised a bonus if they finished in one.

  They didn’t visit Trisha’s boat this time, or go to the nude beach. Instead of clam dogs and french fries, lunch was a dreary affair at a harborside restaurant, with Daniel sulking and Sharkey’s inner motor running on high. Caitlin moved her food around on her plate but didn’t eat a bite.

  Vix tried her best, pretending to be fascinated by The Story of Abby and Lamb, and how they’d met and how they’d instantly been attracted and blah blah blah … who cared? “He couldn’t believe I was a student at The B-School,” Abby said, laughing.

  “Still can’t,” Lamb added, nuzzling her.

  Vix didn’t have a clue what The B-School was but it didn’t matter. Nobody noticed.

  “I came to Boston after the divorce, after living my entire life in Chicago,” Abby said. “I’d hoped Daniel would come, but you know how it is, he didn’t want to leave his friends or his school.” She tried to tousle Daniel’s hair but he pulled away angrily. “So, for now, Daniel’s living with his dad.”

  Vix kept nodding, the way reporters do on TV when they’re conducting an interview, to prove they’re really listening.

  “And when I get my MBA, next summer,” Abby continued, “I’ll decide whether to go back to Chicago or look for a job in the East.” She smiled at Lamb, a private kind of smile.

  Vix wondered if she knew about Trisha.

  Lamb

  SHE’S WONDERFUL, isn’t she? He can’t believe his luck, how she came into his life out of nowhere, when he least expected it. And this one’s a keeper. It’s not just the sex. Everything about her makes him happy. She’s so bright, so sweet. The kids are going to be crazy about her. He can’t believe he’s thinking this way. Thinking about a future with this woman. But he is.

  EVERY DAY LAMB SANG in the outdoor shower. “All You Need Is Love,” “Come Together,” “We Can Work It Out.” He was happy. He was in love. The happier he was over Abby, the unhappier Caitlin grew. And he didn’t seem to notice.

  One day Vix overheard Daniel telling Abby, “This place is a dump. They don’t even have a TV or a dishwasher.”

  You didn’t have to be a genius to see that Lamb had as hard a time making do as her parents. All you had to do was look around at the shabby furniture, the beat-up cars, the clothes they wore. They even ate poor. No meat, not even hamburgers.

  “I’d like you to remember you’re a guest in this house,” Abby told Daniel. “And I expect you to behave in a way that doesn’t embarrass any of us.”

  “I don’t see why you had to drag me here,” Daniel said. “This is supposed to be my vacation.”

  “You’ve been at camp all summer,” Abby told him. “You’ve had plenty of vacation, but I’ve got just these two weeks.”

  “Dad says your whole life is a vacation.”

  “Don’t start, Daniel …”

  “If you’d let Gus come I’d get off your back.”

  Abby sighed. “We’ve already been through this. Two weeks without a friend won’t kill you.”

  “It might,” Daniel said.

  Vix was embarrassed for eavesdropping. She decided not to tell Caitlin what she’d overheard. It was too … personal.

  That night they played mini golf. Daniel held his club like a pro, one hand over the other, thumbs locked. He checked his feet to make sure they were lined up properly. He took two practice swings on each shot. Caitlin and Vix hooted. Daniel told them to shut up. He was trying to concentrate. He took the game seriously. His father played. His father had an eight handicap, whatever that meant.

  They’d played mini golf to celebrate Vix’s twelfth birthday, on the last day of July. Sharkey had shot a hole in one that night, winning them a free game. Nobody won a free game this time.

  After, over ic
e cream at Mad Martha’s, Daniel started in on Abby about inviting a friend. Abby said no as if she meant it, but Daniel didn’t give up. He campaigned all the way home. Finally, Lamb said, “It’s okay with me if he wants to invite somebody.”

  “All right,” Abby said. “All right!” He’d finally broken her down. “You can call Gus when we get back.”

  Two days later Gus Kline arrived, shaggy-haired, open-faced, loud, and slovenly. He walked in like he owned the place, checking out the fridge, helping himself to the leftovers from last night’s dinner. “Hey, Baumer …” he said, pronouncing it bomber and doing a one-two punch. “How’s it going?”

  “Since you got here,” Daniel said, punching him back and smiling for the first time, “things are definitely looking up.”

  Abby

  SHE’LL BE DAMNED if she’s going to let the kids spoil this. Never mind the hatred in Caitlin’s eyes. It was a mistake to walk into her life unannounced and unexpected. She should have known better. It might take some time but she’ll win her over. She’s always wanted a daughter and this one looks like she could use some mothering. Besides, in less than ten years the children will be grown. But why is she thinking this way? She and Lamb have known each other just four months.

  Before they met she’d been thinking about having another child. She’s just thirty-seven. There’s still time. Yet now that it looks serious between her and Lamb—at least she hopes it’s serious—she’s less sure. Three surly teenagers seem like more than she’d bargained for. Of course, a baby would be something else. A baby could bind them together. But she knows from experience it can also drive a wedge between a couple. It was never the same between her and Marty after Daniel was born. She’d never expected him to be jealous of the baby, to compete with him for her affections, making demands she couldn’t possibly meet, but there it was.

  In the year since she’s left him she’s grown stronger, more confident. She’s not afraid to put her foot down now and she’s sure she can see the respect in Daniel’s eyes.

  Truth is, she hadn’t planned on falling in love so soon. Too soon, her friends say. But is she supposed to walk away from the best man she’s ever known because it’s too soon? How ironic, to meet him now, when she’s determined never to be dependent on a man again.

  She tries not to think about the old hippie girlfriend on the boat, even when Caitlin drops hints. Trisha bakes the best muffins, and she’s got incredible breasts. Imagine this twelve-year-old child talking to her about breasts! She’d had to bite her tongue.

  They have sex together … fellatio and cunnilingus. Ask Lamb if it’s not true.

  She’d wanted to belt her that time. Instead, she’d said, This is not an appropriate subject.

  Why not?

  Because it isn’t. She’d walked away but could feel Caitlin’s pleasure.

  She’d gone to Lamb in a jealous rage. This thing between you and Trisha …

  There hasn’t been a thing between Trisha and me for a long time.

  Why does Caitlin think there is?

  Caitlin’s twelve, Ab. What does she know?

  But she told me …

  She’s just trying to ruffle your feathers.

  She talked about fellatio and cunnilingus.

  What?

  My feelings exactly.

  He started laughing. I told you it wouldn’t be easy with her.

  I should have believed you.

  6

  Summer 1978

  VIX SUPPOSED a person who vowed never to be ordinary, never to be boring, would welcome changes, but when it came to the Vineyard Caitlin wanted things exactly as they’d always been and was furious that the house had been renovated without her knowledge, not to mention her permission.

  “What the fuck?” Caitlin said, a look of total disbelief on her face when she took her first look at the new and improved Psycho House.

  “We wanted to surprise you,” Abby said.

  “Surprise me?” Caitlin asked. “Surprise me!”

  Abby and Lamb had been married over Easter. Caitlin had flown to Boston for the wedding. Vix pressed for details but Caitlin didn’t want to talk about it. It was too depressing. “At least Phoebe doesn’t marry her boyfriends.”

  Caitlin pushed past Abby and marched through the house without a word, her hands clenched, her mouth tight. Vix dutifully followed. When Caitlin stopped dead in the middle of the living room, Vix did, too. Personally, she thought the house looked fantastic. Skylights had been cut into the ceiling flooding it with light. Big windows and French doors had been added. The huge pine trees that blocked out the sun and cast weird shadows at night had been relocated to the woodsy side of the house, opening the view to the pond and to the Sound, beyond. You could see the ferries coming and going and the sailboats flying their spinnakers. The old furniture was dressed in crisp blue and white slipcovers. There were vases filled with zinnias and sisal rugs that felt prickly underfoot.

  Abby waited, a hopeful look in her eyes, but Caitlin raced up the stairs and flung open the door to her room. Nothing in there had been touched. It was exactly as they’d left it. Vix was disappointed but Caitlin said, “Thank God!”

  Abby had followed and was standing in the doorway. “I thought you’d like to do your room yourself,” she told Caitlin. “You know, choose your own colors and accessories.”

  Vix was thinking what a great time they’d have painting the drab wooden walls, organizing the collections, shopping in town. But Caitlin said, “I like it exactly the way it is, thank you!” and she slammed the bedroom door in Abby’s face.

  If Abby thought she was going to win points with Caitlin by making changes, she was mistaken. Vix wished there was a way for her to let Abby know that trying to please was not the way to win Caitlin’s affection. People who tried too hard disgusted her.

  A minute later Caitlin kicked off her shoes and smashed them against the wall. She beat her mildewed pillows against the books on her shelves until one of them opened, its feathers flying in all directions. She attacked her rock collection, sweeping it onto the floor. She hurled tennis racquets and swim fins across the room, then grabbed her desk chair and crashed it against the door of her closet. She cursed and cried as she destroyed everything in her path.

  Vix was in shock. She’d never seen anyone behave that way. Once, in fourth grade, she’d come home from school crying hysterically because a boy in class had called her a whore. She’d had no idea what the word meant. Neither did he but she didn’t know that at the time. Whore, whore, whore … the other boys in the class chanted, taunting her for a week.

  Tawny had shown no sympathy. “Save your tears for something important, Victoria. There’s no need to display your emotions in public. Do you want those boys to have power over you?”

  “No.”

  “Then remember what I’m telling you. Keep your feelings to yourself. Don’t ever show anyone your disappointment.”

  That was the last time she’d let Tawny see her tears.

  As she crouched between the twin beds, protecting her head with her hands, she thought about Tawny’s advice and felt proud for knowing how to keep her feelings to herself. Obviously no one had taught Caitlin to save her tears for something important.

  Finally, Caitlin threw herself on her bed.

  There was nothing Vix could say to comfort her. Instead, she handed Caitlin a box of tissues then sat beside her, rubbing her back.

  Caitlin blew her nose. “You’re the only one in this house I don’t hate. You’re the only one who cares about me.”

  Caitlin didn’t even hate her when Vix got her period, though Caitlin wanted desperately to be first. “I guarantee I’ll be first with everything else!” she promised.

  Maybe … maybe not, Vix thought. This was the first thing she’d had that Caitlin wanted and she liked the feeling.

  They hiked the two miles to town without telling anyone, to buy pads for Vix, then Caitlin escorted her to the secret bathroom behind Patisserie Francaise on M
ain Street and helped her stick the pad inside her pants.

  Outside, they ran into Trisha, who was delivering muffins to the gourmet food shop. “Lordy … look who’s here!” Trisha set the tray on the hood of her truck and handed each of them a peach muffin. She was wearing short shorts and an orange T-shirt. Vix thought of those gigantic breasts and warned hers not to grow that big.

  “So how’s the bride and groom?” Trisha asked.

  Caitlin made a retching sound.

  Trisha nodded. “You think you know somebody really well and then they go and do something so outrageous … so totally off the wall …”

  “He should have married you!” Caitlin said.

  “Oh, honey … you’re not the only one who’s thinking that.”

  Only when Caitlin decided to hitch home did Vix balk. “I’m not allowed to hitch.” Though the idea of walking back with the sun beating down on her when she was already feeling queasy, made her wish she could.

  “This is the Vineyard, Vix. Everybody hitches.”

  “I can’t. It’s the one thing I’ve promised my parents I’ll never do, along with drugs and sex before marriage.”

  “That’s three things.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  But moments later an old blue Camaro screeched to a halt. There were two guys in the car, both wearing baseball caps and wraparound glasses. And the driver was him, the National Treasure.

  “Heading up island?” Von asked.

  Caitlin turned to Vix. “You can walk if you want but I’m riding.” The other one, Bru, let his seat fall forward so Caitlin could squeeze into the back of the car.

  “You getting in or not?” Bru asked Vix. “Because we’re holding up traffic as you can see.”

  She followed Caitlin into the car, thinking there had to be exceptions to every promise. Besides, if they were going to be killed it would be better to be killed together, otherwise she’d have to explain to Lamb why Caitlin was murdered and she wasn’t.