Chapter 21
Twenty-one
Even though Connor seemed stable, it was protocol for him to spend several hours under observation in the ER.
“You should stay here,” he said before the EMTs chauffeured to Martha’s Vineyard Hospital.
He nodded at the Chappy Ferry. “Head back over and check out Dike Bridge.” He pressed his Jeep keys into my hand.
“I’ll let you know when I’ve been discharged. ”
I made him promise that I’d be his first call.
“And my ride.” He kissed my cheek, and when we got home five hours later, a totally fine Connor disappeared to call his mom and update her on his medical incident while I sought out my dad.
I showed him the picture of me striking a silly pose on Dike Bridge (thank you, self-timer), then I told him about my conversation with Annie.
He calmly nodded, but I could see something flickering in his eyes.
“She always just seems weirdly pissed at you, for no reason.” My voice unexpectedly wavered. “Dad, I hate it.”
He wrapped me in a hug. “She’s not really upset with me, Liv.”
“Yeah, I know,” I whispered, tears welling up. “The disease is.”
We kept telling ourselves that, and it was the truth, but it was still difficult to separate the evils of dementia from our happy memories of Annie.
They wouldn’t overshadow them, but they’d still be there, woven into our family fabric.
I would always remember my grandmother calling me a snot, just like Erica knew she was that woman every now and again.
Does that crush her? I wondered.
“Thanks, Dad.” I pulled away to give him a small smile. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He squeezed my shoulder. “Keep up your spirits for the rest of the trip. Don’t worry about Annie. She’s in the best hands, and we’ll be back soon enough.” He gave me a long look. “Okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed, but it was easier said than done. The next day, on Friday, I called Elkins before Connor and I left for dinner on the Farm.
“I’m sorry, Olivia,” one of the nurses said. “It’s been a challenging day. How about you call back tomorrow?”
I didn’t like the word challenging. What did that mean? Was she irritated and restless? Or had there been a bad sundown episode?
Connor interrupted my spiral. “What are you thinking about?” he asked as we puttered across Oyster Pond, Ashley at the helm. She and her dad were taking the kids—all wearing fluorescent life vests—tubing after dropping us off on the Farm’s dock.
I waved my hand, as if to say, Nothing!
“Connor, remember to remind Meredith about your allergies,” Teddy said when the dock was in sight. “She might fry something in the same oil as—”
“I don’t think Meredith has a fryer, sweetheart,” Ashley bemusedly cut in, “but I’m sure Connor will let her know.”
“Absolutely,” he said before offering the kids fist bumps. “Kick butt out there, guys!”
Ashley maneuvered the Boston Whaler as close as possible to the dock. I thought Meredith would’ve been waiting for us, but instead it was a life vest–wearing Claire Dupré and her mom. “Just up the dunes.” She smiled at Connor and me and gestured up the rickety stairs.
And while Maisie practically pushed us overboard, wanting to get her tube on, a flushed Finn offered Claire his hand to help her onto the boat.
Manners matter, dude, I imagined Connor telling him. Girls like manners.
We do, I would’ve concurred, even though before meeting Connor, I’d tried to convince myself that chivalry had gone extinct. Who cared that Rob had always texted me from his car instead of knocking on my front door?
Heat sparked on the back of my neck, embarrassed.
Connor and I hiked up the hill, but again, neither Meredith nor Wit waited for us.
Instead, there were two mountain bikes leaning against an ancient split-rail fence with wildflowers spilling down the side.
“What are you doing?” I asked when Connor confidently mounted the red one. “That is totally someone’s bike.”
“Trust me,” he said, and I found myself completely and utterly powerless against his smile. It weakened the backs of my knees.
But I still managed to swing my leg over the side of the silver bike, and once we started pedaling, it was off to the races.
The sun bathed the Farm’s seagrasses in a golden light as we rode along a well-worn sandy road.
I wanted to close my eyes and throw my hands up in the air, feeling so incredibly carefree.
Music drifted from the one of houses we passed by and there looked to be a cutthroat cornhole game happening outside another. Something sizzled on a grill somewhere.
I was so swept up that I had to slam on my brakes; Connor had slowed to a stop in front of a tiny cedar-shingled cottage with a pitched roof and green shutters.
THE ANNEX, a sign over the door read. Two matching Adirondack chairs sat on its tiny porch, and a picnic table lounged out front.
It was set for dinner with a vase of fresh wildflowers as the finishing touch.
“Welcome to the Annex,” Connor said once we’d hit our kickstands. “It’s nice, right?”
“It’s adorable.” I nodded, then I stole another glance at the dressed up picnic table and noticed it was only set for two. “Meredith and Wit live here?”
“Yes, until their house is finished,” Connor said. “It’s really her parents’ place.” He winked. “But it’s ours for the night!”
My breath caught.
Meredith and Wit were never meant to be here, I realized, heart starting to hammer. It had all been a charade so Connor could surprise me.
“How?” I asked, stunned. “When?”
“I had some help this afternoon,” he said coyly. “Sage and I kayaked over here while you and Erica were playing”—he made air quotes—“hide-and-seek with Beth.”
I couldn’t help but smile a bit. Erica seemed to be more focused on her “East Coast Summer” Reel than her parents’ scrapbook, but Annie’s memory book was starting to take shape.
“Bombing around the island and retracing Annie’s steps has been a lot of fun,” Connor added when I didn’t say anything. “But you deserve your own unforgettable summer snapshot, Olivia.” His voice softened, turned tender. “And I wanted to make it happen for you.”
Pinpricks at the corners of my eyes, I felt a sudden and hard lump in my throat. Knots of thoughts tied themselves together in my head, but I swallowed and spoke over them: “You really do know how to make a girl swoon, Connor McCallister.”
“Practice makes perfect,” he quipped, then he grinned, took my hand, and squeezed it. “What can I get you to drink?”
* * *
Our menu was simple and so very summer. Connor skillfully turned two sweet potatoes into a cookie sheet of cinnamon-sugar sweet potato fries while I offered to make the salad, adding in a generous amount of sweet corn, tomatoes, and mozzarella pearls.
We sipped glasses of strawberry lemonade while Connor grilled our marinated chicken. “Do you normally cook?” I asked after kissing the chef. “Or is tonight…?”
“Tonight is a special occasion,” he said, tips of his ears pinkening. “Miranda might’ve texted me detailed instructions for the sweet potato fries.”
Smiling, I kissed him again.
By the time we sat down at the picnic table, it was almost seven.
We talked about everything from Teddy wandering off and getting lost on the ferry last month to Quincy and Gwen’s internships to our nearly identical middle schools.
I nearly choked on my giggles when Connor brought up the ballroom dance routine he and Mads had to perform in seventh grade gym.
“Oh, we did that too!” I exclaimed. “I had to dance with my friend Jenna, because no boy wanted to be Stilts’ partner. ”
Connor raised an eyebrow. “Stilts?”
My cheeks warmed. “I was really tall, remember?”
He shook his head. “Middle school boys never play the long game.”
“Yourself included?”
“Oh, myself absolutely included.”
I smiled.
For dessert, we devoured Meredith’s promised tres leches cake (left behind in the fridge with a sweet note).
“This place is in a league of its own,” Connor remarked after polishing off his third slice.
He nodded at the horizon. “The Carmichaels’ house is spectacular, but every time I’ve been over here this summer…
” He trailed off. “I mean, have you ever seen anything like this?”
I looked out at the Farm’s great beyond, to soak it in all over again.
A wide-open meadow rolled out before us, speckled with yellow flowers.
Scattered scrub trees swayed in the evening breeze, and beyond a small placid pond were the beach’s sandy dunes and the ocean.
I squinted to see a boat on the deepening blue-purple horizon.
It looked like we were in the middle of nowhere, but my swishing stomach suddenly told me we were in a special somewhere.
And I was starting to think it wasn’t only special to the Fox family.
Being here made me wish I’d brought Annie’s Polaroid. The wind-whipped trees and sandy roads looked eerily familiar.
Is this it? I wondered, pulse speeding up. Has it been Paqua Farm the whole time?
How had I not noticed?
“It’s magical,” I murmured at the same time Connor’s phone started vibrating its way across the tabletop. Like the Carmichael family house, it appeared the Farm had temperamental, borderline terrible, service. Thankfully, the Annex’s Wi-Fi info had been posted on the fridge.
“Impeccable timing, as always,” Connor snorted upon seeing Mads’s FaceTime request. He reached for his phone to reject it. “Sorry not sorry, Madeline—”
“No!” I blurted. “Answer it.”
Connor gave me a quizzical look.
I also wondered what the hell I was thinking, but I nodded like I’d never been surer about anything in my life. “I’ve heard so much about her.”
“Alright, then,” Connor said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you…”