Chapter 11
When Hannah returned home from the wake, taking a cab because she’d had two glasses of wine and had no interest in messing with fate, she found the house quiet and dark.
Minnie wasn’t there. Panicked, Hannah called Minnie over and over again, standing up at the kitchen counter, heaving with tears.
Was this the moment Minnie decided to leave her?
Was this how Minnie taught Hannah a lesson?
Each time, it went to Minnie’s voicemail.
In a moment of desperation, Hannah called Kendall, praying that he’d unblock her number.
Maybe Minnie had found a way to reach her father, and they were corresponding.
But Kendall’s phone went straight to voicemail, as well—proof that he was still on the run.
He probably wasn’t thinking about his wife or his kid at all.
Outside, it continued to rain. Droplets pelted against the glass as the wind roared.
Hannah sank to the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees.
She thought about the previous few hours, about how reckless she’d been, going to that wake and digging around.
She allowed herself to think, briefly, about Julien, about how he’d caught her in her lie about being Thomas’s second cousin.
He hadn’t cared at all, almost as though he’d known she was lying the entire time.
Secrets were humming beneath the surface of this island. But Hannah wondered if she’d ever have the strength to reveal them.
Maybe she needed to focus on motherhood instead.
Again, Hannah called her daughter. She listened as the phone rang and rang through the night. Standing, she traced a line back and forth through the kitchen, then hurried upstairs to check Minnie’s bedroom again. It was dark.
In Hannah’s own bedroom, she sat on the edge of her bed, her heart thudding. She imagined all manner of horrible things: Minnie in a ditch somewhere, Minnie in the water.
No! She told her mind to stop, but it wouldn’t. Awful things flowed through her. She decided to put on a big sweatshirt, get warm, then hop in the car to search for Minnie wherever she could think of. She imagined herself driving all night, frantic.
But it was then, as she pulled the sweatshirt over her frame, that a text came through Hannah’s phone, one from Minnie.
MINNIE: On the way
Panic melted away, leaving Hannah gasping and exhausted.
She couldn’t even feel anger toward her daughter, not now that she knew she was safe.
She had no idea who was bringing her home, nor where she’d been.
But she was headed home, which was all Hannah could hope for.
Hannah sent a thumbs-up, taking a cue from her daughter.
And then, she looked into the dresser and saw the shoebox, the one she’d found under the floorboards last week.
Tugging it out, she went downstairs, poured herself a necessary mug of tea, and sat cross-legged at the kitchen table.
She had no suspicions about what she would read.
Her best guess was that they were love letters from long ago, words that would draw Hannah out of the misery of her own life and into another, one of beauty and love.
She imagined war-torn lovers. She imagined men and women from long ago, kissing the pages and praying they’d be reunited again soon.
The first letter she unfolded was, indeed, a love letter, one from Calvin Middleton to Georgia Kaiser.
My darling Georgia,
It is my greatest hope that this letter reaches you.
I know the postal workers are not outside their jurisdiction, and we are being watched closely.
For this reason, I have addressed the envelope to a friend of yours, Tiffany, and hope that she is respectful enough of our love to bring the letter the rest of the way to you.
It is hard to know who to trust on Nantucket Island. Growing up, I never could have imagined what sort of powers were at work around us. My mother often hinted at it, but I was a naive and big-eyed little boy. I never imagined that my life would be at stake, all because of them.
I remember one of our first talks about the Legacy Club. You told me that they were nothing to worry about, that they were watchful gossips, trying to make their mark in the world. But I fear that we underestimated all they’re capable of.
What they think I did is so heinous that I can’t bring myself to write about it here. I know you love me and know I didn’t do what they say. But I do know that I can’t return to Nantucket without them clearing my name.
I know what they’re capable of, now. I know you know, as well.
Be safe, my Georgia. I love you to the moon. I hope one day we can fight against them and be together there in your little house by the sea. Until then, I’ll be dreaming of you.
Yours forever, Calvin
Hannah’s head rang with alarm. The Legacy Club.
The letter was so cagey and strange that it captivated her, demanding more.
But as she reached for another letter, the front door screamed open, bringing her daughter home.
Hannah put the letters back in the shoebox and hurried to the foyer, where she found Minnie, drenched, her hair plastered against her cheeks.
Hannah wanted to tell her daughter that she couldn’t stay out late like this and needed to communicate.
She wanted to tell her that they should start over, that they could build a relationship together if they wanted to.
That they could be like the mothers and daughters on television, telling one another everything (or at least some things), laughing together, and eating ice cream. They really could.
But then, Minnie threw herself into her mother’s arms. Hannah welcomed it, squeezing her harder than she ever remembered doing. Her sweatshirt was wet. The letters in the shoebox were forgotten. She couldn’t tell if Minnie was crying or laughing.
“Honey, what is it?” Hannah whispered. “You can tell me anything. Really. Anything.”
Minnie mumbled something into Hannah’s shoulder, something Hannah couldn’t hear.
“What is it?” Hannah asked, peeling herself back the slightest bit to look into Minnie’s eyes. She wondered if Minnie was drunk—or, worse, high. She’d feared that much more in Miami, an enormous city where anything was available. But she knew small towns could be like that, too.
And then, Minnie broke into the most gorgeous of smiles, one that reminded Hannah of when she’d been a toddler, when she’d been so sweet with Hannah and Kendall, bringing them into her magical, fantastical world.
“I kissed a boy, Mom,” Minnie blurted.
Hannah could do nothing but smile back. “Tell me,” she whispered. “Tell me everything about it!”
Minnie blushed and cackled, then wiped her cheeks of rain and tears. Hannah thought she understood. Minnie had thought her life was over, that she’d never have excitement again. But just a week after starting high school in a new place, she’d apparently met someone.
Life went on and on and on, Hannah knew.
Minnie went upstairs to change into dry clothes, while Hannah set to work making hot chocolate.
She’d packed a box of it back in Miami, praying that she and Minnie would have cozy nights like this.
There were no marshmallows, but there was plenty of milk to make it creamy.
By the time Minnie returned, her hair frizzy and her smile still big, the hot chocolate was ready.
They sat at the kitchen table, nervous with one another. Hannah didn’t want to make any sharp movements, for fear that Minnie would run away from her.
“His name”—Minnie took a deep breath—“is Viggo.”
“Like Viggo Mortensen?” Hannah asked.
Minnie shrugged. Hannah hadn’t done enough to educate her on film history.
“He’s an artist,” Minnie said, unperturbed. “We sit next to each other in art class. And, Mom, you should see this painting he’s working on. It’s a crow, and it really looks insane. It looks like a crow!”
Hannah laughed. Minnie had always been an artistic, soulful kid. It sounded like Viggo was the same. Minnie took a sip of hot chocolate, coating her lips with the dark liquid, which she licked off. She looked older than sixteen, but also much younger. Hannah told time to stand still.
“What did you talk about?” Hannah asked.
“Everything,” Minnie gushed. “Art. Music. Family. Travel. Miami. He’s never really been anywhere, and he wanted to know everything about the South. He wanted to know how different the ocean looked. And it looks so different, Mom. I can’t believe it.”
Sometimes Hannah couldn’t believe it either.
But what Hannah really wanted to know was how the kiss had gone, how it had built up, and how Minnie had convinced herself to be brave enough to receive it.
She also knew that she needed to ask what she’d neglected to ask back in Miami—if Minnie was considering taking any of her romantic relationships to the next level.
Hannah hoped and prayed that her teenager would be careful, that she’d decide she was too young to sleep with someone, especially this early in a relationship.
But Hannah also knew that it was the twenty-first century.
Teenagers were going to do what they wanted.
It was up to Hannah to protect her as best as she could.
Maybe that conversation could happen at another time.
For now, Hannah listened happily as Minnie talked about Viggo, about Viggo’s laugh, about Viggo’s car, and about Viggo’s solitude, which she found “incredibly interesting.”
“He used to date the granddaughter of Thomas Bard,” Minnie said off-handedly.
Hannah’s head rang. Did her daughter know about Thomas Bard, too?
Minnie read Hannah’s expression. “Everyone is talking about it at school. Viggo said that Nantucket is full of secrets. It all sounds so scary. Like a movie.” She took a sip of hot chocolate. “But you’re staying out of it, right, Mom?”
Hannah tried to laugh. “I’ll stay out of it if you stay out of it, sweetie.”
“I’m not the one who gets myself involved with messes.” Minnie continued to smile, as though she were trying to tell Hannah that soon, she would forgive her.
Hannah prayed that this night, as the wind howled outside, as she stirred another mug of hot cocoa for both of them, would lead them back to one another. She prayed that they would finally find peace.
Of course, Nantucket Island had other plans for them. But Hannah didn’t know that yet.