The Sweetest Summer: A Bayberry Island Novel

  Clancy waited, twisting the key in his hand, knowing the minutes were ticking by. Eventually his mother came out carrying a long zippered garment bag with a clear plastic pouch tied around the hanger. “I won’t ask who this is for. Depending on how large her bosom is, and pardon me for bringing this up but it is important, you might have to adjust the straps. Or she can adjust the straps. It’s none of my business who’s doing the adjusting. . . .”

  “Ma.”

  “And because she’s tall, the skirt may have to be pulled lower than it’s usually worn, even below the belly button. But not too low, because that would mean that in the back—” She stopped. “I’m sure the two of you can find a happy medium.”

  “Ma!”

  “Well, I’m only trying to follow the rules. Here.” Clancy stood as she draped the nylon bag over his forearm. “She’ll need to wear her own shoes.”

  “Of course.”

  “It might be slim pickings in the kid area of the warehouse, since they’ve started rehearsals for the children’s play. But I’m sure you’ll find something for a little one.”

  “You’re the best. I gotta go.”

  He started for the door.

  “Clancy?”

  He turned, holding the front door open with his foot. “Yeah?”

  “Whatever this is about, I hope it works out well. I’ve always hoped that one day you would find . . .” Mona waved her hand as if she wanted him to forget she’d just said that. “I just want you to stay safe and know that your family is always here for you. We’ve got your back.”

  Clancy smiled. It was his first legitimate smile of the day, and for some reason, he let himself believe it was a good omen.

  * * *

  “Chrissy, we need to get moving.”

  Her niece shook her head again, crossing her arms over her chest with such determination that the flesh of her forearms turned white.

  “Now, Jellybean.”

  “I want to stay! I want to see the pretty mermaid! You promised we could go see her at the Save Heaven Castle!”

  This was no time to get into it with a grumpy, sleep-deprived preschooler, but what was Evelyn going to do? Leave the island without her? Drag her kicking and screaming to the dock so that anyone who may not yet have noticed them would get a real good look?

  Just then she heard it—the long, one-note sound of the ferry horn. It was arriving, which meant they had exactly a half hour to get there and get boarded. Evelyn peeked out the curtains to see some bad news and some good news. Unfortunately, the rain was coming down in a steady sheet of water, which meant they would be soaking wet by the time they reached the public dock. But the rain would keep the streets emptier than normal, especially at this hour, giving them a smaller audience for their mad dash.

  Evelyn sat down on the floor in front of Christina. She held out her arms and the little girl crawled into her lap, snuggling deep. Evelyn gently rocked her back and forth and kissed the top of her head. Her thoughts wandered to how long it might take for Christina’s hair to grow back, and whether she would get to see it happen.

  Oh, God! Evelyn closed her eyes and pressed her lips to Christina. She had put this poor child through hell. She’d only been trying to do what Amanda had begged her to do—keep Wahlman out of her daughter’s life—but it had been unfair to expect a four-year-old to remain cheerful through an odyssey like this. Christina had lost a lot more than her hair. She’d lost her mother, her grandfather, her animals, her home, and her preschool friends. She’d lost the knowledge that her world was safe.

  Evelyn had dared to watch a few minutes of early-morning cable news while Christina slept. The volume was turned almost completely down, but she still got the gist of what was going on. The FBI was on their tail and Wahlman had gone public. His tears were obscene—how could he pretend to cry for a child he never wanted to be born? He made her sick. She had to turn it off.

  What if Hal didn’t come through for her? What if he couldn’t find evidence that Wahlman cheated his way to full custody? Without that proof, she had no defense. And then what? Would she keep running forever, depriving Christina of her grandfather and home? She felt crushed by the weight of what she’d done.

  “Sing the mussels song, Aunt Cricket. Please?”

  She smiled sadly, thinking how she began singing the traditional song to her niece soon after she was born, just as Evelyn and Amanda’s mother had done when they were young. After Amanda died, Chrissy began requesting the song whenever she needed reassurance. It broke Evelyn’s heart.

  “Sure, sweetie. And thank you for using the word ‘please.’”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Thank you for saying ‘you’re welcome.’”

  Christina giggled, and Evelyn joined her. Well, why not? Maybe giggling was the best option at a time like this. Eventually, their laughter drifted away. Evelyn held her niece tighter and began to sing, her voice barely above a whisper.

  In Dublin’s fair city,

  Where the girls are so pretty,

  I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone.

  As she wheeled her wheel-barrow,

  Through streets broad and narrow,

  Crying . . .

  “Cockles!” Christina sang, right on cue.

  And . . .

  “Mussels!”

  Alive, alive, oh!

  Evelyn stopped there. “Hey, Chrissy?”

  “Mmm?” Her face was still pressed to Evelyn’s chest.

  “I need your help with something.”

  The little girl lifted up and studied Evelyn, narrowing her eyes. “Did you forget the words to the song?”

  “No. But I need your help with something important. I need you to be a big, brave girl this morning. Do you think you can do that?”

  She gave it some thought, then nodded.

  “Do you know I love you bunches?”

  “Yes. I love you bunches, too.”

  She kissed her warm forehead. “I know you do, Jellybean. So here’s how you can be big and brave for me. Do you have your listening ears on?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. We’re going to get our stuff right now and run through the rain all the way to the dock. You can ride piggyback. We’ve never done that before, have we?”

  She pursed her lips and shook her head.

  “Let’s see how fast we can go, okay? And I promise that I’ll sing the mussels song the whole way. Are you willing to try?”

  Suddenly, her eyes widened. “Are we going to get wet?”

  “Oh, yes, we sure are. Soaking wet. Have you ever gotten that wet in the rain before?”

  She shook her head again.

  “We’ll change our clothes once we get on the boat. And then we’ll go on a ferry ride! Are you ready?”

  Evelyn placed Christina on her feet, jumped to a stand, and checked that her shoes were laced securely. Since she had everything ready to go, it took only a minute or so to get it all together. Evelyn pulled her hoodie over her head. She strapped the duffel across her body. She patted the pocket of her shorts to make sure her wallet was there, then zipped up Christina’s little jacket and covered her head with the attached hood. She knelt on the carpet and told her to climb on.

  “Shoulders?”

  “Not today. Just piggyback.”

  With a quick check to make sure she left the keys on the bed, she opened the door and they were in the rain.

  “Ahhh!” Christina hunkered down on her back. “I can’t see!”

  Evelyn started to jog, alternating her attention between what was below and what was ahead. Tripping wasn’t an option. Her first priority was keeping Christina secure. Speed was secondary.

  “Hold on tight! Don’t let go!”

  “Okay!”

  Once Evelyn made it to the paved road, she increased h
er pace, careful where she stepped, peering through the curtain of rain.

  She was a fishmonger,

  But sure ’twas no wonder,

  For so were her father and mother before.

  “Your voice sounds funny and bouncy, Aunt Cricket!”

  She laughed.

  And they each wheeled their barrows,

  Through streets broad and narrow,

  Crying . . .

  “Cockles!”

  And

  “Mussels!”

  Alive, alive, oh!

  Unfortunately, a large bandstand with scaffolding had been erected in front of Fountain Square, which meant Evelyn had to loop around the mermaid statue to access Main Street. She adjusted her sweatshirt hood so that she could take a quick sideways glance at the majestic creature. The mermaid appeared serene and wise, immune to the rain or time itself. She smiled kindly, and for the oddest instant, Evelyn was sure that smile was meant especially for her.

  Stop running. Trust him.

  Evelyn pulled the hoodie to her face and picked up her pace. Her footfalls, her breath, the rush of the rain, the warm weight of her precious niece against her back—these things would keep her focused on what was real and get them to the dock safely. Because . . . of course the mermaid did not just speak to her!

  Evelyn knew how high levels of stress could do a job on a person’s senses, but c’mon. If she had to have a hallucination, couldn’t it be something that could actually help her and not some random, off-topic mermaid lecture? And really. Stop running? As in stop running in the rain? Or stop racing? No problem. There weren’t too many marathons in prison. And the trust him thing? She was supposed to trust Richard Wahlman with Christina?

  Not in this lifetime.

  “Later, babe,” Evelyn muttered to the mermaid, merging once again with Main Street. She immediately realized this would be more of an obstacle course event than road race. On both sides of the street, along the two blocks from the fountain to the dock, were rows of craft show tents, some wrapped entirely in plastic to keep their treasures dry. People ran through the rain pulling carts, calling out to one another or unloading pickup trucks. She inhaled the beginnings of kielbasa and sauerkraut, barbecue, hot grease, and chili. Of course! Today was the big street fair, and that meant she’d have to run along the Main Street boardwalk, now slick with rain.

  “I’m wet!” Chrissy nearly busted her eardrum with her shouting.

  She ran. She picked up at the chorus.

  Alive, alive oh!

  Alive alive, oh!

  Crying . . .

  Silence. Evelyn tried again.

  Crying . . .

  “Cockles.” It came out as a pathetic whine. Evelyn felt her pain. This little jog was flat-out miserable.

  And . . .

  “Mussels.”

  They reached the dock and she slowed her pace, careful not to slide on the treated wood. Evelyn had no idea what time it was, but thank God, she could see the ferry’s running lights in the mist. That sight flooded her with such a rush of relief that she felt tears forming in her eyes. Just a few more seconds. Just a few more feet. “Time to take our boat ride!” She knelt on the dock to let Christina climb down.

  “All aboard!”

  Evelyn’s head snapped up. No! She stood quickly, grabbed Christina’s hand, and began shouting over the rumble of the ferry engine. “Wait!” She waved her free arm as she ran again. Christina dragged her feet and began to whine.

  “Wait! Please!”

  The conductor couldn’t hear her, not with the storm, the engine noise, and the bright yellow oilskin rain hat he had yanked over his ears. She could see him prepare to shove off. But this was their only chance—they absolutely had to get on the ferry!

  The instant she reached the gangway, she stomped on the aluminum as hard as she could. The vibration alerted the conductor that he had two last-minute fares, and he secured the ramp again and waved them aboard.

  They ran up, raced across the outside deck and pushed open the door to the passenger seating area. This particular ferry was en route from Martha’s Vineyard to Nantucket before it would head back to the mainland. Everyone who was going to the Mermaid Festival had already disembarked. The dozen or so passengers continuing on were dry, comfortable, and slightly annoyed by the messy, unruly, last-second arrivals. Evelyn knew how pitiful they must appear. Both of them were drenched to the bone. She was breathing hard and her hoodie was plastered to her head. She surely had a wild look in her eyes. Chrissy was trembling and complaining that she was wet and cold.

  Ignoring their stares, Evelyn dropped the heavy duffel bag onto an empty bench, then collapsed right next to it. Her shoulder ached. Her heart was banging against her ribs. But as bad as she felt, Christina looked worse.

  “I’m so sorry, baby.” She had just reached out to remove the layers of wet clothes from her niece when the conductor approached, already free of his yellow slicker and hat. He stood over her. “ID, please. Where ya headed?”

  “Two one-way fares to Woods Hole, please.” She unzipped Christina’s coat. “One child under five and one adult.” Evelyn pulled off Chrissy’s little jacket and tossed it onto the empty bench in front of them, motioning for Christina to crawl past her and sit next to the window. Only then could Evelyn begin digging into her shorts pocket, eventually pulling out a water-logged wallet. “Here you go.” Smiling, she handed him her Indiana driver’s license and two twenties. He nodded, but didn’t return the smile. “Why don’t you hold on to those fares for just a moment. I’ll be right back.”

  She didn’t know what time it was but wondered why the ferry wasn’t moving. She searched the interior of the ferry until she found a large clock positioned over the door to the outdoor seating area. It was 8:07.

  “We’re already late,” said a woman two benches away.

  No. Oh please, no. Evelyn stiffened. Something was wrong. They should be in open water by now.

  Just then, Christina started to sob. Her shoulders shook and she couldn’t catch her breath. Evelyn pulled at the wet clothes sticking to her skin and stared out the ferry window at the hard rain and the gray-green sea.

  “Mommy.” It came out between great gulps of air. “I want to see Pop-Pop, Mommy. Can we see Pop-Pop and Reba and Tussy? Take me home, Mommy.”

  Her niece looked up at Evelyn, her big brown eyes filled with longing. “Please? I want to go home.”

  Evelyn froze. She didn’t know what to say. Her niece had just called her “mommy.” Three times. And it devastated her. Could it be that her little-girl memories of Amanda were already starting to fade? Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue. Or maybe she simply needed Evelyn to play that role for the time being, just to get her through this latest frightening and exhausting experience.

  More importantly, she had no idea how to respond to her request to go home. Christina wanted the things she would never have again—a home with her grandfather, feeding her favorite goat and helping to milk the family’s dairy cow. She wanted her life back, but she would never get it, because her future could go either of two ways: she would be on the run the rest of her childhood, or she would live in a fancy Back Bay mansion with her rich old father, who would send her to boarding school as soon as the novelty of having a child began to wear thin.

  “I know you’re sad. I’m so sorry you’re hurting, Christina. I’m hurting, too.” She put her fingers under her niece’s chin and tipped her face. She wanted to look directly in her eyes when she said the words. “Everyone loves you more than you will ever know. Your mommy loves you from heaven. Pop-Pop Charlie loves you with all his heart. And all the animals, too, they love you. See, people still love you even if you aren’t with them. Love never goes away.”

  Christina’s chin began to tremble.

  “And Jellybean, I love you so much that you are the most important thing in
the world to me. You matter more to me than anything.”

  Her niece lifted her arms and Evelyn picked her up. Christina wrapped her small legs around Evelyn’s waist, pressed into the crook of her arm, and began to cry. Hard. It was a gasping sound full of sorrow. Evelyn couldn’t take it. She buried her face in Christina’s neck and cried right along with her. So much sadness . . . so much grief . . . as deep as the ocean. Evelyn doubted they’d ever find the bottom of it.

  Some time passed. Maybe two or three minutes, and Evelyn looked up when she heard the passenger cabin door open. She wasn’t particularly surprised. In fact, she felt nothing. No fear. No panic. It was almost as if she knew he was out there, waiting for them.

  Clancy Flynn was draped in a deep blue rain suit. He wore no hat. He probably had his uniform under it all, but at first glance, he didn’t look like a police officer. He just looked like a guy who’d run through the rain to catch the ferry.

  He walked to the center of the cabin and stopped. Evelyn met his gaze, knowing she was still crying but not caring anymore. She’d failed. She’d given up. It was almost funny—the girl who planned and trained and worked her ass off so that she always finished the race had just quit.

  She shook her head at Clancy. “Not in front of her,” she whispered. “Please. That’s all I ask.”

  Clancy said nothing, just came close to the bench, grabbed the duffel and put the strap on his shoulder. He touched Evelyn’s elbow, helped her stand, and grabbed their wet coats. “It will be okay. Everything will be all right.”

  She felt like she was sleepwalking. They stepped over the threshold and were back in the rain, but Clancy produced a large umbrella and it sprang open over their heads. He gently held on to Evelyn’s arm. This wasn’t like any arrest she’d ever seen on TV. He wasn’t reciting her Miranda rights or yelling for her to put her hands up. He was simply accompanying them down the gangway to the dock, trying to keep the rain from pummeling them. Christina hung on to her so tightly that Evelyn worried she would cut off her circulation.