Chapter 7
Seven
March 13
Suzanne and I are lying on the teak deck of the boat Henry chartered, staying out of the way of the two men who are working on the engine. Our bodies contour to the sides of the boat, and our heads meet at the bow, creating a V. I’m port; Suzanne is starboard. I’m learning boat lingo fast.
Ringo keeps coming over and licking my face to let me know he has an eye on me. He’s been hanging out with me for the past three days. Jack’s conference call led to him leaving the island. He offered me the company of his dog, and I’ve been glad to have it. If Ringo ever gets to be too much or something happens, Jack gave me a number to call for one of his staff members to take over. If that doesn’t make me feel like I’m in a dream—Jack has staff .
Suzanne lifts her head and squints at Ringo. “He doesn’t let you out of his sight.”
“It’s nice to have a protector.” I open my eyes and see Ringo, in his shark fin life jacket, lying in the shade by the cabin.
“I really think he likes you.”
“He’s a very sweet dog. Jack rescued him from the side of the road two years ago. They’ve been best friends ever since. It’s helpful Ringo likes me too. I was beginning to miss having someone or something to care for.”
“No, I think Jack really likes you.” Suzanne rolls onto her side so we are face to face. “I can tell he’s in love with you.”
“I really doubt that. We’re just friends.” Friends who take naps together and spend nearly every day with each other. “There’s too much uncertainty in Jack’s life. I don’t think either of us is looking for a relationship. I definitely don’t think I’m ready.”
“I’m telling you, Jack doesn’t take his eyes off you when you’re together. And look. He is entrusting you with his best friend.” She giggles. “You said he takes Ringo with him when he travels, and now he’s left him with you?”
“That’s ridiculous.” I laugh too, but Suzanne is right. I have noticed Jack staring at me, and Jack sharing Ringo with me? With someone he met less than two weeks ago? I’ve found myself counting the hours until I next see Jack. I do like him looking at me. The thought of there being a deeper meaning behind his attention bothers me, so I shove it aside. “I’m getting hot. Let’s go for a swim.”
I stand up and dive into the crystal-clear water. Once I surface, I yell to Suzanne, “Jump in! It’s so nice!” Ringo takes that as his cue and, barking, jumps off the boat to join me.
Just as Suzanne hits the water, her bikini top falls off. I swim over to shield her from the workers on the boat while she recovers herself. Suzanne seems annoyed by my efforts to help.
“Don’t want to give any free shows!” I say to break the tension. I’d be mortified if it happened to me.
“Anyone who wears a bikini top knows there’s a high chance of it falling off when they jump into the water,” she says. “Besides, I have great breasts. If we could take the boat out to sea, I could sunbathe nude. Henry thinks it sexy that I don’t have any tan lines.”
So Henry has been paying attention to Suzanne. I’m glad to hear it. But why spend all day on the water when you could be in it instead? I envy Ringo, paddling circles around us, having fun in his shark fin.
We swim over to a sandbar where it’s shallow enough to stand. Ringo keeps up with us, splashing. “So, Isa. You’ve heard all about my troubles. Tell me about you. What’ve you been doing since we graduated?” She doesn’t know about Ben and the divorce. She doesn’t know about Luke and Cole.
“Well”—I hesitate, not wanting to feel the pain of remembering—“I got married, and it didn’t work out the way I hoped.”
Suzanne’s eyes widen. “Really? You were married? To who? Anyone I know?”
“I doubt you’ll know him. He’s from South Portland.” I really don’t like talking about Ben. I hope Suzanne will lose interest in this topic.
“Oh? I’ve been to parties in South Portland.”
Maine seems so far away. I’m standing on a sandbar seventeen-hundred miles from the chaos I was in a few weeks ago. Then, I was living a completely different life. Until a few months ago, I was a full-time mother to two beautiful boys.
“Ben Cushing,” I say, acid filling my throat at the thought of all the years I wasted on him.
“Oh! I know who he is. But I didn’t think he was married. I must have met him after you guys got divorced.”
“No, I highly doubt it. Why?”
“Well, last summer, I was out with some friends in Kennebunkport and ran into him at a bar,” Suzanne says, excitement warming her tone, but then she sobers. “He was really drunk, and I think he was hitting on me.” She’s quiet for a moment, then she smiles. “Nope, he was definitely hitting on me. And when I turned him down, he just moved on to the next girl.”
“Next girl?” I’m not actually surprised.
“He basically hit on every girl at the bar until he got takers. And he definitely got takers.”
“Takers? More than one?”
“Oh yes. He left there with a couple girls. I think they were friends, but whatever. I didn’t want anything to do with him.”
“We were still married,” I say flatly. I remember last summer when Ben had to work late and ended up sleeping in the back room of the restaurant. Or so he said.
My arms are suddenly full of wet dog as an exhausted Ringo tries to climb up on me. I step back to regain my balance, and sharp pain shoots through my left foot.
I hop back to get away from the pain, but that only makes it worse.
“Ouch! What the hell did I step on?”
I lift my foot to look at it. Two black spines are sticking through the top, and a spiny sea urchin is hanging from the bottom. My foot feels like it’s on fire.
Suzanne is quickly by my side to keep me upright and balanced on my right foot. “Hey, guys!” She waves her arm to get the mechanics’ attention. “We need help over here!”
Ringo barks as if to add his voice to the call.
The chaos around me blurs as the pain commands my focus. Shaking my foot does nothing to dislodge the urchin. Don’t overreact, I remind myself. Try to stay calm.
The salty air gives way to the pungent smell of gasoline, and I look up. The two mechanics have powered their skiff over to us. Leaving the outboard idling, the man with the blue shirt jumps into the water and helps me climb into the skiff.
Once I’m in, the other man pulls the urchin off my foot and tosses it back into the water. Unfortunately, a lot of dark spines are still stuck in my instep. The man still in the water helps Suzanne and Ringo into the boat and then pulls himself aboard.
“Thanks, Bluey,” I breathe out through the pain. His shirt makes my delirious brain think of the show my boys like to watch.
Bluey laughs. “Cute nickname. I’m Reed. And those urchins are nasty, nasty creatures. They cause a lot of problems to a lot of feet. Let’s get you to the clinic.”
“I hope you don’t have to pee on my foot.” That would be absolutely gross.
Bluey—no, Reed—laughs again. “No, that would be for jellyfish stings. Completely different animal.”
I would feel ashamed of my ignorance, but I hurt too much. I grit my teeth and keep silent. Suzanne is sobbing enough for both of us. A cold nose pokes my arm, and I look down. Ringo, with his shark fin, looks so sad, and soon I have a lapful of wet dog licking away my quiet tears.
Reed’s co-worker, whose sunglasses reflect the ocean, has opened up the skiff’s motor, and we’re at the dock in no time.
“Thanks, Sunny, for getting us to shore.” I’m grateful they were there to help.
Sunny, who tells us his name is Freddy, jumps onto the dock and ties the skiff off while Reed picks me up and carries me to their truck with little effort. He straightens my leg out so my heel is resting on the dash and the bottom of my foot doesn’t touch anything.
“Keep it elevated. I’ll be right back,” Freddy instructs as Reed gets behind the wheel and starts the engine. He runs over to a couple of nearby trees just a bit taller than him. Grabbing a knife from his belt, he cuts off a few of the oblong fruit and runs back to us. “Hold on, I got these for you,” he says as he drops the fruit into my lap.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not very hungry right now.” I just want to get this ticking time bomb out of my foot before it explodes.
“They aren’t to eat. I’m going to squeeze the juice onto your foot. It will help with getting rid of the spines.”
“You really think mango will help?” I’m skeptical about squeezing tropical fruit into my open wounds.
“It’s not mango; it’s papaya. It helps, trust me.”
“Okay, you can squeeze it on, but I’d still like to go to the clinic afterward.”
Freddy uses his pocket knife to cut a slice of papaya and squeezes the fruit over the spines stuck throughout my foot. At least the juice doesn’t make my injury hurt worse. He proceeds to squeeze the juice of both papayas onto my foot before climbing into the back seat.
“How far is the clinic?” I ask Reed as Suzanne slides into the back seat on the other side.
“The clinic is less than a mile away. There are some dry towels back there.” Freddy hands one to Suzanne and opens another for me.
My foot is throbbing, and I start breathing like they taught us in birthing classes. Hee hee, hoo. It doesn’t relieve the pain, but it gives me something to focus on as we drive over bumpy roads to the clinic.
At the front entrance, Reed parks and carries me into the lobby. Suzanne follows us with Ringo. My tears have stopped, but the throbbing has turned into a pounding.
A staff member directs Reed to take me into the examining room behind the front desk, and our ragtag group traipses into the room. He helps me onto the exam table and then leaves with our profuse gratitude. Suzanne takes Ringo’s shark fin off and hands him to me for comfort.
“Looks like you met one of our sea urchins.” Dr. Easton looks over his black-rimmed glasses at me, then down at my foot, focusing through his lenses on the spines.
I cringe as he examines my foot. “Yeah, a mean one.” Not that urchins are mean, but they do cause a mean injury. “Those guys put some papaya juice on it; they said it will help.”
“It can help a little with shallow spines. The ones in your foot are very deep.” Dr. Easton gives Ringo a little scratch on his head and goes over to wash up. I guess comfort dogs are welcome here.
“Jack told me to make sure nothing happens to you, and now look.” Suzanne sniffles.
“I need to remove the spines and clean the wound to prevent infection and cellulitis,” the doctor says, and then I’m overcome with pain as he uses pliers to pull out the spines one by one. Suzanne squeezes my hand as her tears start to fall again.
“Looks like about fifteen or sixteen spines, maybe more. I want to take X-rays to locate any spines that may have broken off in your foot. Any chance you could be pregnant?”
“What? No, I don’t think so.”
“Do you mind if I run a quick test?”
“Do what you need to do. It hurts so much; I just want it to stop.” My left foot is swollen to twice its size.
Dr. Easton nods. “I’ll get the nurse.”
A nurse with a nametag that says Pieter walks in through the open door and pulls a privacy curtain around Ringo, Suzanne, and me. “Are you able to get up to use the restroom?” I nod, and he helps me up. With Suzanne on one side and Pieter on the other, I make it into the bathroom attached to the examining room and sit down on the toilet. I keep my leg straight and resting on the heel.
Pieter opens a cabinet and hands me a plastic jar with a lid. “Here you go; leave it on the counter when you’re done and give me a shout so I can help you back into the bed.”
Once he leaves, Suzanne asks, “Do you need help?”
“No, thanks. I’m good.” Suzanne looks the other way so I can be done with this. I pull the gusset of my bathing suit to the side and fill the cup halfway before snapping my suit into place.
She calls for Pieter, who helps me back to the exam table, then collects my sample from the bathroom. “This shouldn’t take too long.”
Several minutes later, Dr. Easton returns. “Looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”
“What do you mean?”
“Looks like you’re pregnant. No X-rays. No good painkillers. Just Tylenol,” Dr. Easton says, looking down at his clipboard, which must contain my results. “We can do a little lidocaine to numb the area, though.”
“I’m what?” I blurt as Suzanne asks, “She’s what?”
“Oh, yes. We can discuss that later. Let’s take care of your foot first.”
All I can think of is Ben the night before our court date. Oh my God, I can’t be pregnant. The pain in my foot fades as dread curdles in my stomach.
Suzanne grabs hold of my arm when she sees how scared I am.
“I can’t be pregnant. This can’t be happening. I reach for Ringo and run my fingers anxiously through his short, damp fur. “Please don’t say anything. Don’t tell anybody.”
“I won’t say a word,” Suzanne assures me and wipes away a tear running down my face.
Dr. Easton digs through my foot, removing all the spines he can. “I hope I got them all. Pieter will come in and bandage you up and give you a tetanus shot. Tomorrow, I want you to soak your foot in warm water with a little bit of vinegar. It will help to neutralize the venom and break down any pieces I may have missed. Take Tylenol for the pain and elevate your foot to keep swelling down.” Dr. Easton pats my ankle. “And stay off it for a week or so. I’ll lend you some crutches. Are you a tourist?”
“She’s visiting,” Suzanne answers for me. “She’s Jack Kendall’s girlfriend.”
Dr. Easton smiles. “Oh? How’s Jack doing?”
“He’s doing great. Can I go home now?”
“You’re good to go. Please keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t become infected. And it would be good for you to see an OB to make sure everybody is okay.”
I nod. What else can I do? Pieter comes in with crutches and shows me how to use them.
“Thank you for everything,” I say, although my foot is throbbing and I’m nauseated—not because of the spiny urchin venom or pregnancy symptoms, but the fact that I’m pregnant. I can’t even think about the conversation I’ll have to have with Ben.
When we go out the front door, Sarah is waiting for us. “A half mile is a little too long for someone just starting out on crutches,” she says. Suzanne has stopped crying now that the drama is over.
“Aren’t you supposed to be behind the bar right now?”
“I called in an employee when Suzanne texted me. Let’s get you to your villa.”
We pile into Sarah’s car, and she drives me home with care. I hobble inside with a woman on either side of me, gratefully sinking into the sofa near the door.
Suzanne goes into the bedroom to get me something to wear. “Where are all your clothes?” she asks as she comes back, her face disapproving. “We seriously need to go shopping.” She tosses a T-shirt that’s wearing thin in spots to me, then holds up a pair of my Walmart special panties and laughs. “If you’re gonna date Jack Kendall, you’ll need sexy underwear.”
I burst into tears. Sarah looks at Suzanne as if to ask what’s wrong.
“I just found out I’m pregnant,” I explain between sobs. Suzanne ducks into the bathroom and brings out a roll of toilet paper. Guess we’ve created a routine.
Sarah sits down next to me and takes my hand. “When does Jack get back?” I wipe my eyes, and when I’m done blowing my nose, she continues, “Is this his baby? Are you going to tell him?”
I look at Ringo, who’s staying right by my side. “I have no idea. I have absolutely no idea.”
Bzz-bzz-bzz
Between the throbbing of my foot and being a side sleeper forced to sleep on her back, I’ve only just fallen asleep. And now my phone is going off.
Bzz-bzz-bzz
The sky outside my bedroom is lighter, but the sun isn’t up yet. Who could be texting me this early? Did something happen to my boys?
Eyes glued closed, I feel around the bedside table until I find my phone. My eyes unstick enough to be blinded by the brightness of the screen, and I immediately turn it down. I can see there are eight texts from Jack. That, and it’s six a.m.
11:04 p.m.
Isa Jane Cushing are ya OK? How’s your foot?
2:43 a.m.
Isa Willa Cushing? You are worrying me! Are ya OK???
2:45 a.m.
Isa Mia Cushing I am so worried! I’m flying home now to see ya
3:15 a.m.
I just took off. I’ll be there soon.
3:16 a.m.
Pilot says we should land at STT around 5:30
4:30 a.m.
Isa Ivy Cushing, I can’t wait to see you!
5:25 a.m.
Landed! Headed your way!
5:55 a.m.
On the island
The knock at the door seems a little too soon. He must’ve timed his arrival and the ferry departure perfectly. My foot is sore and throbbing when I try to sit up. “Shit!”
“Isa!” Jack calls from the porch.
“The key is out there somewhere,” I yell to him. After putting me in bed last night, Sarah and Suzanne locked the front door, then hid the key. I hear Jack rummaging through the items on the porch, and then it’s quiet except for the skittering of Ringo’s nails on the tile floor as the door is unlocked and pushed open.
Jack, backlit by the rising sun, rushes across the threshold to my bedside.
“Oh my God, Isa, are you okay?” He bends over and hugs me and doesn’t let go. Ringo’s wagging his tail and looking up at me as if to say everything will be just fine now that his owner’s back.
“I’m not dying, Jack, but I do have to go pee.”
“Let me help you up.” Jack is careful with my wrapped foot and hands me the crutches on loan from the clinic.
“Give me a few minutes to freshen up.” I hop over to the bathroom and close the door.
Telling Jack I’m headed back to Maine will be one of the hardest things I’ve done. But I can’t stay here, not in this condition. Not while I’m pregnant with someone else’s baby. I came here to figure out what to do, but now my future has been figured out for me.
I open the door and crutch my way over to the couch, where I prop up my injured foot. It looks like a loaf of bread. The swelling hasn’t gone down much, so I ask Jack to give me a few Tylenol from the packets Dr. Easton sent home with me and get me a bottle of water from the fridge to wash them down. He’s happy to help.
“I rushed home as fast as I could; I’ve been so worried about ya. When you didn’t respond to my texts, I called Sarah to see if everything was OK. I just had a bad feeling.” He drags a chair over so he can sit in front of me. “I don’t want to be away from you.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” I know I can’t continue whatever this may turn into with him.
“The thing is, I wanted to. I’ve never wanted to put my career aside before for anything or anybody, especially a woman. But you”—Jack brushes my slept-in hair off my face and tucks it behind my ear.—“you have swept me off my feet. You’ve come into my life at the exact time when I was at a crossroad that I didn’t even know I was at.”
“What? What crossroad? Don’t you have Google Maps?”
“Isa, I’m serious. A crossroad in my life. I didn’t realize it until I left the island. Until I left you here. I want to quit my business, or at least slow it down. I want to focus on me and you. I want to live the things I sing about, not just sing about them.”
“Jack, I’m pregnant.” I just say it, monotone. No enthusiasm. No excitement. “I’m going to be leaving soon.”
I brace myself for Jack’s wrath, to be yelled at or called some kind of name. I’m sure whatever island fairy tale he conjured up of us living happily ever after has disintegrated in front of him.
I look down to hide the fact that I have lived this before. I’ve been in this position where all I want to do is leave. I know I can’t fix a shattered dream, especially someone else’s shattered dream. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, Isa!” Bending forward, Jack hugs me. His fingers gently pinch my chin and move my face so we are eye to eye. “I want to help.” Jack’s voice has taken on a serious tone. “Please let me help you. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Jack, I don’t know what to say. That’s so unexpected.” I break my promise to stay strong and stop crying as I allow myself to be wrapped in his arms. To be kept from falling apart. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“It will be OK. Let me make it OK.” He pulls back to brush my hair away and wipe the tears from my cheeks. “Give me a chance; I won’t disappoint you. I don’t want you to have to worry about anything except getting better and making sure your baby is healthy.” Jack flashes his bright smile, and I bask in its light. He feels good, and maybe this is right.
“I don’t know,” he continues. “I feel like I spent all my life putting everything I have into my music and touring. I never had any desire to settle down with anybody, let alone start a family. I could never see myself with one person.” I pull away so I can watch his eyes while I listen.
“It’s not that I’m selfish or anything, or I don’t think I am. I just think I’m honest. I wouldn’t expect anyone to put up with a schedule like what I keep when they want me to be a full-time husband or father. I couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone.” As Jack speaks, he loses the sparkle in his eyes. “And now, I’m forty-eight. I’ve led an amazing life, and now I would like to sit back and enjoy my accomplishments. Slow down. Just relax and enjoy what I sing about. Now I’ll have time to be a boyfriend and maybe a husband or even a father.”
Sometimes pieces to a puzzle fit the first time you try them. It doesn’t happen often, especially if you’re not very good at puzzles and you’re constantly trying all the wrong pieces. My whole life, I’ve been trying the wrong pieces and they never fit. So far, Jack and I fit in every way. He’s kind and gracious, and he makes sure I know he’s thinking about me, in a good way. I love his voice and what he says. And to top it off, physically, we fit together perfectly.
I am at the point where I need to make a decision. I need to put the puzzle piece into the puzzle.
Jack traces my lips with his tear-dampened finger, preparing them for his soft kiss. My eyes fly open; I’m shocked that his gentle kiss feels so intense. As if every cell in my body is about to explode. I’m ready to let myself fly, but Ringo barks once and runs to the door to tell us he needs to go out.
“Hi, buddy.” Jack jumps up, out of breath, and opens the door for Ringo. Then he turns to me. “You look famished. Would you like to come up to my house for some breakfast? We can talk some more there.”
“Yes,” I whisper. “Let’s talk at your house.”
“I’ll grab some of your things and help you get some shorts on, although I don’t mind you going shorts-less.” Jack pulls clothes from the dresser and throws them into the bag I’ve been using for the beach before going into the bathroom to grab my toiletries.
“Are you expecting me to spend the night?” I ask with a girlish grin. It feels good to have Jack packing an overnight bag for me.
“I thought you might want to get a shower when you get to my house. That’s it. No pressure.” The sparkle is back in Jack’s eyes as he slings my bag over his shoulder, then helps me stand and step into some shorts.
I brace myself for a loud, rattly ride in Jolene, but to my surprise, when he opens the front door, a brand-new black Ford Expedition, with doors and everything, is parked outside. “Whose is this?”
Jack shrugs, somewhat bashful. “They left it for me at the airport so I could get home in the middle of the night.”
“They?”
“My security. You’ll be comfortable and safe.” Jack helps me hop to the passenger side and slide onto the oversized black leather seat.
As Jack races around to the driver’s side, I fasten my seat belt. The engine purrs like a house cat when Jack starts it up.
“It’s so quiet compared to what you normally drive,” I say. “We don’t have to scream. And I don’t feel like I’m going to get thrown out of the vehicle at any given moment.”
Putting the Expedition in gear, he says, “You’ll be much more comfortable in this.” The air-conditioning blows cool air, and country music starts playing mid-song from high-quality speakers, whose sound is complimented by the luxe soundproofing of the interior.
We glide out onto the road, whereas we bounced on every bump when we were in the Jeep. We drive for a while until we come to a small driveway that winds up a hill. Halfway up, a gate of silver bars adorned with starfish blocks our way.
“Oh, how pretty! Starfish are my favorite animal,” I exclaim.
Jack grins at me, then turns away, lowering his window so he can reach out to enter a code on the keypad at the side of the gate. A pole-mounted security camera next to the keypad observes the transaction, and the gate swings open to allow us to drive through.
The palm tree-lined driveway leads us to the front of an enormous traditional island home. I’m in awe. I knew he had some money, but not like this. Not as jaw-droppingly extravagant as this.
“You live here?”