Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
S ylvie was surprised at how easy it felt to sit at the dinner table with Graham, Hilary, and Hilary’s fiancé, Max, the part-time cinematographer and handiworker Hilary had met on the job last summer.
They were from all walks of life and all earning brackets and with all sorts of backstories, but they found ways to celebrate each other’s wins and feel empathy for one another’s losses.
Most extraordinarily, Sylvie realized that Max and Hilary had known James Bruckson in ways Sylvie never had.
They knew him in another era—long after the darkness she’d experienced.
They’d known him as an older man and described him as “wise, centered, and focused.”
Sylvie didn’t know what to say.
“He always had a plan for the day when I arrived at the inn to work,” Max said, his fork poised over his plate as he thought back to last summer when he’d done some work around the inn.
“This must have been before the diagnosis. He was ready to expand the inn and make it bigger than it was before. He had dreams and visions. I think that inn was the only thing he really knew how to love.”
Sylvie tried to imagine her father being excited about anything at all.
But instead, her mind’s eye filled with the image of her father’s shadow in her doorway; she heard his booming voice telling her that she would be sent away to boarding school, that she couldn’t be herself, that he’d snuff out her light.
Of course, she felt a little bit different about all that now. She understood that as a teenager, she’d been idealistic to the point of recklessness. She’d thrown her life on the line and obstructed people’s very real occupations. She’d been a hazard to Nantucket’s way of life.
Her father must have ached with confusion.
Maybe he’d needed therapy. Perhaps they both needed it.
It was too late now.
Sylvie explained to Hilary and Max that according to her father’s will, she was required to work at the inn for a full year before selling it.
Hilary and Max listened intently before Max said, “He loved that place. I could imagine he’d want to remind you of that love.
But that’s a bit tough, isn’t it? Forcing you into that kind of commitment. ”
Sylvie wanted to tell him it was even more complicated than that. But how could she express the texture of her father’s hatred for his daughter?
“I worked there as a teenager,” she said. “I hated it. I hated answering phones. I hated dealing with guests. I hated cleaning.” She laughed. “But Graham and I were sort of punks with a whole lot of better stuff to do.”
“Nobody wants to work with their parents,” Hilary said.
Sylvie raised her shoulders. “I can’t help but think he’s trying to teach me a lesson, even in death. It’s what he was always trying to do in life.”
Hilary and Max exchanged worried glances.
“We didn’t know him the way you did,” Max affirmed.
“We can’t begin to understand,” Hilary agreed.
Sylvie dropped her chin, suddenly embarrassed. She didn’t want them to think she was being overly dramatic. She didn’t want to ruin the night.
Graham came to her rescue. “I was terrified of him when I was a teenager. And Sylvie and I made it our business never to be terrified of anyone.”
Sylvie’s heart swelled with the memory of all the times Graham had tried to come to her rescue.
“But I’m going to work at the inn for Sylvie,” Graham said. “She has a ton of work to do, you know. A whole career to keep going. You know this Excellence in Journalistic Integrity Award? She’s receiving that in June.”
Sylvie’s cheeks burned. It was strange to hear Graham talk her up like this.
“I have to say, Sylvie, you have one of the most exciting careers I’ve ever heard of.” Hilary cocked her head. “Tell me. What’s it been like to break some of the most hard-to-hear environmental stories of the past twenty years? I’m sure you’ve come up against about every resistance there is.”
Sylvie thought for a moment, running through narratives and interviews, times she’d struggled and nearly failed to bring a story into the light, times entire political parties had tried to get in her way, times celebrities had come out publicly to call her “insane,” if only to support their businesses or wealthy friends.
“It’s been exhausting and exhilarating,” Sylvie said finally. And then she thought, To put it lightly.
“What made you stop protesting? It’s where you began, and Graham never stopped,” Hilary asked.
Sylvie turned to look at Graham. She felt the same questions stirring behind his eyes.
“I had to be careful,” Sylvie said after a long pause. “I couldn’t get my name out there. I couldn’t get arrested, not again. When this all began, I was a minor living in Manhattan, and I wanted to keep a low profile.”
Hilary’s cheeks were pale. “You had to protect yourself first.”
“Yes. But I started writing for minor newspapers around then. I had dropped out of high school and didn’t have anything to do but follow stories all day.
I felt like a sleuth,” Sylvie said. “I was also completely homesick. I left Nantucket on a sort of whim, and I threw myself into a city that either swallows you up or changes you.”
“So you changed,” Hilary offered. “You had to.”
“Exactly,” Sylvie said. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have survived.”
Graham continued to study her as though pieces of the puzzle of their lives were clicking into place—twenty-three years later.
“A minor in Manhattan,” Hilary said, whistling.
Sylvie suddenly didn’t want to talk about herself any longer.
It was as though the past was creeping up behind her, whispering to her, reminding her of how difficult those days had been.
She’d fought her way out of them and become a household name in the environmental sphere.
She’d lost and lost and lost along the way.
But she was still here. So was the planet.
Did that mean it wasn’t too late to save them both?
After a delicious dessert of homemade ice cream, Sylvie walked Graham to his car. Graham’s eyes were lit up, and he was animated after bursts of laughter shared with Hilary and Max on the veranda. Sylvie crossed her arms so hard over her chest that they felt strained.
She wanted to kiss him, she realized. But a moment later, she remembered that his wife was dead, that they were forty years old, and that it was best not to overcomplicate things when everything was already such a mess.
What she really needed was a friend from the past—someone who understood all those early parts of her.
She didn’t have many friends, period.
She said, “I’m glad you came over tonight.”
Graham scanned the gorgeous mansion before them. “I can’t believe you’re staying here.”
Sylvie grinned mischievously. She couldn’t believe her luck either.
“I heard a rumor that your mess from the other day went away.”
Graham’s eyes swam with curiosity. “It was Hilary, wasn’t it? She made them drop the charges?”
“She’s got people everywhere,” Sylvie affirmed. “I’m not sure who she called or who she donated to, but she cleared it up in the span of an hour. I heard her on the phone while I was moving my stuff in.”
Graham whistled long and low.
“She said she owes you,” Sylvie said. “From before in California.”
“It’s rare to meet someone with a memory like that,” Graham offered. “Usually, people are eager to forget what you’ve done for them.”
Sylvie wasn’t sure if that was meant as a jab against her or not. She bit her lip.
“Listen,” Sylvie said tentatively. “I’m supposed to go to Alabama in a few days. It’s for an article. An interview with a guy who owns an alligator farm, if you can believe that. I was going to bail on it, but I don’t know. I don’t want to completely abandon my life.”
“The people need you,” Graham said. She hoped he wasn’t being sarcastic.
“It’s just that the lawyer says the inn has to be up and running soon,” Sylvie said. “Otherwise, it’ll be sold. Neither of us wants that.”
“What do you need me to do?”
Sylvie’s smile was enormous. “You really don’t have to help me.”
“I want to,” Graham told her. “Now that I don’t have a lawsuit on my hands, I have a whole lot more free time.”
Sylvie pulled her fingers through her hair. “Why don’t we meet at the inn tomorrow? We can hatch a plan.”
“Like the old days?”
Sylvie laughed. “Fewer handcuffs, I think.”
“No fun.”
Sylvie’s laughter rang out, echoing across the bluffs. Before she could stop herself, she said, “I missed you, Graham.”
Graham’s lips parted. “Sylvie,” he began, then took a breath.
Sylvie raised both hands. “You don’t have to say anything to that. I just thought I’d tell you.”
Graham’s face was pale.
“I’d better get back inside,” Sylvie said.
Embarrassment made her heart skip. She turned and hurried for the door, hoping Graham would drop into his electric vehicle and drive out of sight.
But when she reached the porch, she dared a glance around to find he’d followed her. He was about ten feet away.
He said, “I missed you, too. But I never knew why you went away, why you dropped out of school and left me like that.” His Adam’s apple jumped as he swallowed.
Sylvie found it difficult to breathe. She loved the way the moonlight played across his face, the way his eyes widened when he grew serious, the way he looked so in love with her (even though she knew he wasn’t, that he couldn’t be, they weren’t kids anymore).
“It was all so long ago,” Sylvie said, turning the knob. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
Before he could answer, she slipped inside and secured the door behind her.
Get a hold of yourself, she thought as she scurried up the steps and into the bedroom Hilary had gifted her. Your life is already a mess. Don’t make it worse.