Chapter 31
Kate’s hands felt light on the wheel, as if she were made of air.
Driving south, past all the landmarks that had reminded her of her father, felt different now.
He wasn’t just a specter from the past. He existed.
The memories changed character as she sped through Hartford.
They weren’t as poignant, she thought. But that was wrong—seeing him in prison, in his jumpsuit, with the scar on his forehead, made them more so.
“He’s never getting out,” Kate said out loud. They were miles from the prison, but she hadn’t spoken till now.
“What was it like?” Lulu asked.
“Like walking through the steel-doored gates and ten circles of hell. These poor women bringing bags of snacks to locked-up men—in line, no talking, marching through the doors, guards watching everything. The guards,” she said, remembering the look on that one’s face.
“They wanted something; I don’t know. For a prisoner to act up, to catch a visitor with contraband. ”
“You were in there a long time.”
“It took forever to get to the visiting area.”
“And you saw him.”
“Yeah,” Kate said.
“Is he . . . how is he?”
“He’s old. He’s sorry about everything.”
“What did he say?”
Kate shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about her father anymore.
Every detail of the visit reverberated. The stoop of his shoulders, his old familiar smile, the sound of his voice.
She wanted to hold on to the moments, keep them to herself.
If she spoke about them, they would become conversation and dissipate. They wouldn’t belong to her anymore.
Lulu sensed it and looked out the side window.
They sped out of the cities, south toward the shore.
Once past Middletown, the landscape became wooded.
The day had been long, and shadows from trees and rock cliffs lengthened across the pavement.
Although the day was hot, summer was drawing to an end.
The sun had noticeably shifted its place in the sky, the angle of the light lower, moving toward the equinox.
“You know what we should do?” Lulu asked just before they hit the Baldwin Bridge over the Connecticut River. “We should swim.”
Kate had imagined dropping Lulu off at her car in New London, heading to the Ledges to sit in the tangled garden and wait for Jed Hilliard to show up.
Or maybe he would be there already, sketching weeds and wildflowers, waiting for the moon to rise.
More likely, it was only a place her father had mentioned to him in passing, no meaning at all. Maybe Jed had never even been there.
“You’re right,” she said to Lulu. “A swim. But what about bathing suits?”
“What about them?” Lulu asked.
They laughed, and Kate drove them down to Hubbard’s Point.
They told the summer cop by the train trestle they were visiting Scotty Waterston.
The tide was high, the sandy parking lot damp.
It had been built on a wetland, cleared of spartina and its thickly woven root system.
The salt water followed its eternal path and still rose through the sand beneath a thin layer of gravel and broken shells.
Bypassing the main beach, scattered with late-day beachgoers, they walked to the western end and climbed the steep hill to take the path to the deserted haven known as Little Beach.
The crescent strand was backed by a coastal forest of pines, white oaks, and black walnut trees.
Beyond the woods was the Great Marsh, fed by Seven Mile River.
The sun had just dipped behind the trees, and the beach was shadowed.
There wasn’t a person in sight. Kate and Lulu dropped their clothes and walked into the water.
The Sound was cool, but Kate didn’t hesitate.
It had always been a point of pride that while others stood at the edge, getting used to the temperature, she dove right in and accepted the shock.
She swam straight out, underwater, eyes wide open.
At high tide the rocks were far below, and she saw tendrils of sargassum weed drifting upward in the current.
When her lungs were bursting, she crashed up through the surface and took deep breaths.
Lulu was swimming toward the breakwater.
Kate stayed where she was, treading water, facing shore.
Blinking, her eyes cleared, she caught sight of the graffiti Lulu had mentioned—sayings, initials, and patterns. She felt disgusted by the desecration and turned around to look out to sea.
Across the Sound, two ferries heading in opposite directions passed each other. Sunset gave the white boats a pink cast, turned the water’s surface lavender. Skinny-dipping at Little Beach was one of summer’s great pleasures and always had been.
She, Beth, Lulu, and Scotty had started doing it when they were in their teens.
It had seemed grown-up and forbidden, and it had always appealed to her rule-breaking side.
She felt the water on her body, but it wasn’t at all sensuous, and she wondered if it was for other people.
She knew she was missing something but didn’t dwell on it.
For Kate, the best part of swimming without clothes was freedom.
She was part of the ocean. It came close to the abandon she felt while flying.
As her arms and legs moved water around her and kept her afloat, she started to let go of the claustrophobia of being at the prison, the unexpected sorrow she’d felt for her father.
The rush of Long Island Sound’s waves hitting the shore took away the clang of the doors.
“Ahhh,” Lulu said, sidestroking in from the breakwater.
“This was the right idea,” Kate said.
“I figured you needed it. I know I did.”
They swam to shallow water, walked onto the beach, and slipped back into their clothes.
The fabric stuck to their damp skin, but it quickly dried in the cool twilight breeze.
They sat on the hard-packed sand. With the sun down, flies had stopped buzzing around clumps of seaweed along the tide line.
She listened to the waves slapping the shore.
Above, the first stars had started to appear in the violet sky.
The Compass Rose had sat here a million times.
They had skinny-dipped, picnicked, searched for moonstones and sea glass.
In the last blue light, Kate and Beth would walk along the damp sand at the very edge, watching for the moonstones’ glimmer.
They would fill their pockets with the tiny, perfectly smooth ovals of feldspar.
Kate always intended to make jewelry with them, but they were so beautiful by themselves, she kept them in a glass jar instead.
They never gleamed as magically at home, though.
It was never the same as seeing them in the sand, brushed by waves, collecting them with her sister.
“Are you still mad at me?” Lulu asked.
“About what?”
“Not telling you about Beth and Jed.”
In the peace of the moment, Kate had almost forgotten.
“No. More at myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m obviously a hard-assed, judgmental witch, or Beth would have told me herself. Or you would have, or Scotty,” Kate said, half hoping Lulu would say she was wrong.
“What did your father say about him?” Lulu asked. The question instead of a direct response confirmed Kate’s statement and pierced her heart.
“He had no idea that Jed and Beth were involved. He introduced her to him, though.”
“Did he know where Jed might be?”
“Some vague ideas, but not really. Just that he’s from Rhode Island and is a talented artist, but I already knew that part.”
The sound of voices, excited and raucous, came from the direction of the path.
It was dark now and hard to see, but Kate could tell it was kids.
They were too far away to recognize, but Kate heard the clink of bottles as if they were drinking a toast. Then rattles that sounded as if they were all shaking maracas.
“Spray paint,” Lulu said, jumping up. “Hey, stop!” she called as she and Kate started toward the group.
The kids scattered, but Kate ran toward one and grabbed her arm. In the starlight, Kate locked eyes with her niece.
“Sam,” she said.
Sam didn’t reply. She lowered her gaze. In her right hand, she held a paint can. In her other, she gripped a half-empty bottle of Heineken. Lulu had cornered Isabel Waterston, and they came toward Kate and Sam.
“You did this?” Kate asked, pointing at the rocks.
Still no answer from Sam.
“It’s art—better than bare rocks,” Isabel said, slurring her words.
“Okay, you’ve been drinking, no point in talking about it. Come on; we’re going home,” Kate said, glancing at Sam, feeling both angry and scared, not knowing quite how to handle her being drunk.
The four of them walked through the path. Kate had been here so often she had no problem making her way in the dark, but for the sake of the girls, she turned on the light on her iPhone. When they got back to Hubbard’s Point, they headed toward a cottage on the boat basin.
Scotty, Nick, and Julie were sitting on the screened porch. Nick was reading, and Scotty and Julie were playing Scrabble. At the sight of Isabel, Scotty and Nick stood. Julie bolted into the house. Kate noticed she’d stopped in the living room, crept back to peek around the door.
“They were graffitiing the rocks,” Kate said, looking straight at Sam, worried out of her mind at what was going on with her.
“Along with a few others who ran away,” Lulu said. “Nice friends, leaving Sam and Isabel to take the blame. It was as if they weren’t even there. Disappearing friends.”
“We shoulda run too,” Isabel said, letting out a long burp.
“Where did you get the booze?” Nick asked. “Who bought it for you? You tell me, Isabel, right now.”
“They took it from here!” Julie called, still hiding around the corner. “Beer from the garage!”
“Sisters don’t tell on sisters!” Isabel said.
“That was always Kate and Beth’s code,” Lulu said.
Julie stared at her. “Why did you say that?”