Chapter 6
Rod finished work Monday evening and checked his phone for the first time in hours. He had several messages from Renee—most of them frantic. He called her right away, standing in the parking lot outside the office as a July sun dimmed behind frothing clouds.
“Dad! Hey.” Renee sounded on the brink of tears.
“What’s up, honey?”
“It’s work,” Renee grumbled. “It’s a huge mess, and I can’t pick Felix up on time. Vinny can’t pick him up, either.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Rod assured her. “I’m on my way.”
“You’re a lifesaver,” Renee said. “I’ll make it up to you!”
“No need.”
Rod wished his daughter good luck and headed for Felix’s daycare, where a woman in her fifties oversaw the play, nutrition, and development of anywhere between twelve and fifteen toddlers. Rod knocked on the door and listened to the swarm of them—all of them crying out or laughing or a little bit of both. The daycare worker opened up to reveal a face covered in bright stickers. She looked exhausted but happy.
“Felix!” she called. “Your grandpa is here!”
Rod stepped into the foyer as Felix scrambled away from his blocks and wiped his hands on his shorts. “I have to go!” he reported to his toddler friends. “Grandpa is here!”
Rod’s heart swelled as he took Felix’s hand and led him to his truck. Without prompting, Felix launched into a story about daycare, something that Rod couldn’t fully follow. He and Renee had often joked that Felix would be a storyteller one day, that he had the charisma to act. “His father certainly knows how to tell stories,” Renee joked, rolling her eyes. Their romance had been off at the time.
Rod buckled Felix into the back seat of his truck, where he kept a car seat. Although Rod had initially planned to make himself pork chops tonight, he opted instead to stop at the store for hot dogs, avocados, and fresh fruit. Maybe if he dressed up the avocados a bit, he could get Felix to eat a few nutrients. It was worth a try.
The grocery store was frantic. It seemed that everyone—from tourists to locals—needed supplies. Rod and Felix waited in the back of the line for the next available cashier. Felix was seated in the little chair of the grocery cart. Spontaneously, he yawned, and his eyelids closed for a full five seconds. He touched his face and rubbed his cheeks. As he moved, he twisted his arm to show a bright yellow and green bruise that went from his wrist to his elbow. Rod’s heart seized.
“What’s that, buddy?” Rod asked, touching the bruise with the tip of his finger.
Felix hissed and tugged his arm away. As he did, his T-shirt was pulled up to show off another similarly colored bruise near his belly button.
Rod stared at his gorgeous grandson, genuinely shocked. He’d known Felix to have bruises before, of course. Toddlers were in a perpetual state of falling over. But these bruises were enormous.
“What happened to your arm and stomach, buddy?” Rod asked quietly as they inched forward in line.
“Nothing!” Felix said.
But something felt off to Rod. He couldn’t shake it. After he paid for the groceries and tucked Felix back into his car seat, he swirled angrily, thinking about Vinny—that horrible man. Even as a teenager, he’d been massive, with hands the size of big dinner plates and bulging muscles. Rod had never known Vinny to take a hand to Renee. But if he had, would Renee have said anything?
There was so little Rod knew about Renee and Vinny’s relationship. As Renee’s only parent, he’d tried to involve himself and protect her. But by the time she was sixteen, she’d pushed against him and carried her own secrets. Rod’s therapist at the time had said it was “healthy.” They needed space.
Rod carried Felix inside and set him up in front of the television. His heartbeat felt overly powerful, pumping blood to his fingers and toes. All he wanted to do was check Felix for more bruises. He needed to know how drastic this was. But Felix seemed happy, dancing in front of the television as brightly colored characters did the same on-screen.
How could anyone hurt Felix? How could anyone take a hand to this perfect little boy?
Frustrated, Rod paced from the kitchen to the living room and back again. He practiced what he would say to Renee when she arrived. Renee didn’t take kindly to his hostility toward Vinny, so he needed to be delicate. But how delicate could he possibly be when he was sure that idiot had hurt his grandson?
Renee arrived at eight that night. She was flushed and uneasy, collapsing in front of the television as Rod poured her a glass of water. He was uninterested in the specifics of what had gone wrong at work today, but he pretended to listen, bobbing his head. Felix was already asleep, which was rare for him. He normally tried to stay awake as long as he could. Was it because Vinny had kept him awake last night?
“What’s up?” Renee asked, furrowing her brow. “You’re acting weird.”
Rod palmed the back of his neck. Despite his hours of internal practicing, he exclaimed, “What is that idiot boyfriend of yours doing to Felix?”
Immediately, he knew he’d messed up.
Renee jumped to her feet. “What are you talking about?”
Rod gestured vaguely upstairs, where Felix slept. “He’s covered in bruises, Renee. You must have seen them.”
“I haven’t had him in a few days,” Renee said.
“Exactly! That’s why I think it’s Vinny’s fault.” Rod flared his nostrils. “That kid never should have been a father. You never should have let him in.”
Renee closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She looked far older than her twenty-four years. Rod thrummed with regret. But what else was he supposed to do? He had to protect Felix!
“Dad, listen,” Renee began, “I know you don’t know Vinny well. And I know I don’t always paint him in the best of lights. But he’s a great father. A brilliant father. He would never do anything to Felix.”
“You have to look at these bruises. They’re covering him.”
Renee raised her chin to look at the ceiling. “I don’t want to wake him up.” Getting him to sleep was often a debacle, requiring hours of singing, reading, and bargaining.
“He’s exhausted tonight,” Rod agreed. “I don’t know what to think of it.”
“He’s three years old,” Renee offered, sitting back down and crossing her ankles. “He bumps into stuff. He falls. I know you love him, Dad. And he loves you. So much!” She sighed. “Just promise me you won’t blame Vinny for every scrape and bruise. We’re all in this together. We’re all trying to raise Felix right.”
The following afternoon, Rod got off work early and headed to the harbor to check on his boat. During his years at the University of Massachusetts, he’d ached to return to the island and sail whenever he pleased. (He’d often felt his heart physically breaking as he’d studied and taken tests so far from the rush of the ocean.) When he returned, he immediately removed the boat from storage and prepared for wild treks across the sound. He didn’t understand landlocked people. He needed the wide-open sea at his doorstep.
Like many islanders, Rod had learned to sail as a boy. He’d inherited his sailboat from his father and kept it clean and maintained over the years. It now sat latched to the dock, waiting for him as it gently rocked on the water. He imagined teaching Felix to sail in the coming years (hopefully without Vinny nearby).
But as Rod approached his sailboat for an afternoon trek, something caught his eye. He stalled and turned to find a familiar boat tied up near his with Esme on the side.
A shiver ran down his spine. He’d sailed that boat before. He’d been out on it hundreds of hours of his life. But he’d never thought he would see it again.
A split second later, a familiar head emerged from below deck. It was Victor Sutton, carrying a box. He locked eyes with Rod and nodded as he continued up the stairs. When Rod didn’t avert his gaze, Victor’s eyes lit up in recognition.
“My gosh. Is that you, Rod?”
Although Rod had spotted Victor and Esme at the Fourth of July fireworks, he hadn’t imagined what he’d say to him if he saw him face-to-face. It still felt like a dream that he was back at all.
“What are you doing here?” Rod decided to play dumb.
Victor’s smile widened. He set the box on one of the sailboat chairs and waved him up. “Come on! Have a beer with me. We need to catch up.”
Rod stepped aboard and reached out to shake Victor’s hand. It was firm and powerful, much like Victor himself. Although it had been nearly thirty years since Rod had spoken to him, he seemed just as vibrant as ever. The years hadn’t taken anything away.
Victor popped the tops of two beers and passed one over. They clanked them together and took chairs on opposite sides of the boat.
“I need to get her cleaned up,” Victor said, gesturing to the boat around him. “I just got her out of storage this summer.”
“Right.” Rod raised an eyebrow, remembering Victor had left Esme for his secretary. His secretary probably wouldn’t have liked it if Victor continued sailing on a boat named for his first wife. Yet the boat had been here, waiting for him all the while.
Did that mean that Victor had always planned to return? Had he always thought his second marriage was doomed to fail?
“You look great, Rod,” Victor said. “Really. I’ve thought about you over the years. Always wondered what happened.” He raised his shoulders.
Shame crawled up Rod’s neck. He sipped his beer, which tasted tangy and cold. It was an IPA with too many hops for his liking.
“You look great, too. I heard a rumor you were back,” Rod said. “But I’ve been away. I just graduated from the University of Massachusetts. Social work.”
Victor’s eyes widened. “Cheers to that. Quite an accomplishment. I’ve worked with many social workers in my career. Some of the best people I’ve known.” There was a pregnant pause. “Maybe we’ll work together in the future. You and me.”
Rod wasn’t sure what to say to that. “I guess that means you’re sticking around?”
“I’m getting divorced,” Victor said flatly. “My brother lives here. Esme’s here. Rebecca moved back.” His eyes sparkled. “Bethany was here, too, you know.”
Rod swallowed the lump in his throat. “How is she doing?” He tried to sound casual.
“You know how Bethy is,” Victor said. “So driven. Always has something to prove. I couldn’t get her to tell me anything ‘real’ about her life in Savannah.” He sipped his beer and gazed into the middle distance. “I couldn’t help but feel like she wanted to keep something from us. Like her Cinderella story life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
Victor explained what Rod already knew—that Bethany had married into an elite Southern family. Her father-in-law was one of the top surgeons in Savannah, and her husband was also a surgeon.
“I googled it,” Victor said, “and it looks like Bethany got the job her husband was always meant to get.”
“How do you know that?”
“Gossip channels in the medical community,” Victor explained. “I can’t imagine that’s done wonders for her marriage. Jealousy can destroy just about anything.”
Rod wasn’t sure why Victor was telling him this. Each word felt like a knife.
“I’ve been thinking hard about how to bring her here for good,” Victor said. “The Nantucket Hospital could use a wonderful surgeon like her. And I can’t imagine she’s half as happy as she thought she would be in Savannah.”
Rod wiped his mouth with his hand. “I’m sure you know I have a daughter.”
Victor arched his brow with curiosity.
“I find it difficult not to mettle in her business,” Rod said. “Not to tell her what I think about her romantic partners or career choices. Because I love her, I want the best for her. I don’t want her to make any of the same mistakes I did.”
“You sound like a good father,” Victor said.
Rod wanted to ask Victor what Victor could possibly know about being a good father. Hadn’t he abandoned his family? That was something Rod never would have done.
Not that there had been anyone around to care for Renee.
Sensing darkness between them, Rod eventually switched to other topics of conversation, drank the rest of his beer, and made an excuse to leave. He thanked him for the beer.
“We should do this again,” Victor said, shaking his hand a final time. “I’m always around the docks.”
“Sure,” Rod said, stepping out of the boat. “See you soon.”
But as Rod sauntered toward his sailboat, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just encountered a ghost. More than that, he hated that he was now worried about Bethany. He’d always assumed she was happy as a clam down in Savannah, that she’d ultimately found joy and freedom in a place far from the prison of Nantucket. He hated to think he’d been wrong.
It wasn’t like Bethany wanted Rod to save her. But he still itched with that instinct. He couldn’t explain it.