Chapter Four
A month after we had moved into the Crest, I was working very hard in school on a painting of Frenchman Bay with lobster-fishing boats coming home.
The shades of red and blue were very important with the sun moving toward the horizon to hide until morning.
I didn’t want the boats to look like they were all the same distance from the pier.
In my mind, one of them was Jamie’s father’s, and he was on it.
I knew Mr. Angelo was keeping an eye on my work even though he was fiddling about, organizing his materials.
Maybe it was the intensity of my work or maybe it was just the fear that I would do a poor job of it and disappoint Mr. Angelo, but I was in such deep concentration that the floor began to feel like the deck of a lobster boat navigating the wavy sea, the few times I had been on one with Grandfather Charlie.
I think I groaned and brought my hand, paintbrush and all, to my forehead before I tilted too far to my right and brushed the easel, causing it to topple as I slipped to my knees.
Mr. Angelo came rushing over and helped me to a chair.
“Are you all right?” he asked. I nodded, but I was very frightened and he surely could see that.
“My painting,” I said.
“It’s fine. No damage.” He put it back on the easel. “Just hold on,” he said, and rushed out to get our school principal, Mrs. Curtis. The two of them came hurrying back.
“How are you, Lisa?” Mrs. Curtis asked, remaining just a step or two back from me as if I might be suffering from some infectious disease.
She was a tall, thin woman with light reddish-brown hair and firm cheeks that looked stretched tightly enough to tear before they reached her jaw.
Some of the older students called her a “killer whale” because she looked so stern standing outside her office when class ended and the bell rang.
She’d study everyone as if she was searching for a broken rule and would pounce as quickly as a whale.
Often, she’d pluck out someone, usually one of the boys, and take him to her office for a stinging lecture or a punishment like detention.
I had caught my breath, but I was still frightened. This was one of the symptoms Mommy repeatedly had warned me to report.
“Just a little dizzy,” I said.
Mr. Angelo brought me a glass of water. He smiled and patted my hand.
“Just try to relax,” he said.
What I think surprised me the most was how although every teacher, even the secretary in the high school, probably knew of my heart valve issue, they rarely caused me to feel self-conscious about it.
Mrs. Curtis’s secretary appeared, looking a bit frazzled. She held her hands to her chest. She took deep breaths like she had run from the office to here.
“I couldn’t reach Mrs. Baxter. Her maid didn’t know where she was.”
“Did you call her father?”
“I called his office, and his secretary told me he was in Augusta on business. Her grandfather got the message and said to have her brought home. He is almost there himself and said it would be quicker than him coming here to get her, and he’d see to it that Dr. Bush came to their house.”
“I can take her,” Mr. Angelo said.
Mrs. Curtis looked at him strangely but then nodded. “If there is any worrying change, you have my permission to go right to the Bush clinic on the way, but call me instantly on arrival there. She’s still under my care until her parents are present.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Mr. Angelo said. He smiled at me and took the glass of water.
I was feeling better, but I didn’t want to say anything that would reveal how frightened I really was.
Mr. Angelo brought his car to the front of the school and got out to help me in. I didn’t look back for fear that others inside were watching us, watching me. I got in, and we drove off.
I suppose Mr. Angelo was more nervous than I was. He talked the whole way to the Baxter mansion, raving about the work I had already done on my picture of the bay and describing the first time he had tried to capture it in a painting of his own.
“Funny,” he said, “but sometimes when you’re far away, your hometown images are more vivid than they were when you were there. You look like you’re feeling better,” he added, after glancing at me as we started up the hill.
“I am,” I said. “Thank you.”
“Oh, my pleasure. Anyway, I get to see the view from the Crest,” he said, smiling.
Grandfather was waiting at the front door. Anna appeared beside him as we drove up.
“Thanks,” he told Mr. Angelo. He took me by the arm and handed me off to Anna. “Take her to her room. Dr. Bush will be here shortly. We’ll see if we have to make arrangements to go to Mount Desert Island Hospital.”
“I feel okay, Grandfather. Where’s Mommy?”
“Some shopping spree in Bar Harbor with the Ladies Auxiliary of Birdlane. The sea is rough today.”
“I can hear how the wind has grown stronger.”
“Yes, but these island women think they’re all seasoned sailors. I’ve made efforts to contact her, but I just heard the ferries are grounded until there is more calming.”
“How will she get back?”
“Let’s not worry about that right now. I’ll find a way. Let’s concentrate on you.”
“What about Daddy?”
“He has yet to call back. Just go to your room,” he said. I looked back to see Mr. Angelo drive off. I really hadn’t gotten a chance to thank him properly.
Anna held my arm all the way to my room, which was on the first floor. We had six bedrooms, but Mommy felt that having me go up and down the spiral stairway all the time wasn’t necessary. It was her soft way of saying I had to be extra, extra careful. Would I ever be like other girls my age?
Anna helped me undress, get into more comfortable clothes, and then into bed.
“I’m really feeling a lot better,” I told her.
She smiled. “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“I’m so embarrassed. Everyone in the school is probably talking about me.”
“Hardly a reason to worry about that. My mother was just like you. She’d wake up with a flu or something, have a temperature, and start cleaning the house, not a complaint uttered until she practically collapsed. ‘Face your demons down, don’t ignore them,’ my father would preach.”
“He was a preacher, right?”
“A minister, yes.”
We heard Dr. Bush arriving and Grandfather rushing him to my room.
Dr. Bush was a stout six-foot-tall man with a brushed rust-colored mustache and bushy matching eyebrows.
Since he had begun taking care of me, his hair had thinned and grayed.
He had kind, compassionate light blue eyes and was always very soft-spoken and gentle with me.
I could barely feel his fingers on my wrist. That bothered me because he made me feel so fragile.
Sometimes I felt like shouting “Feel my muscles” or something.
I lay back while he carried out his exam. Grandfather stood in the doorway, watching.
“She’s doing fine,” Dr. Bush said. “Nothing wrong that I can see.”
“Maybe I’ll still arrange to have the cardiologist at Mount Desert Island reexamine her as soon as possible. I’m sure her mother is going to want that.”
“Sure. Never hurts,” Dr. Bush said, not taking any offense.
Grandfather walked the doctor out. Anna brought me some tea with honey and a biscuit.
“Any news about Mommy?” I asked.
“Your grandfather sent a boat to Bar Harbor and called the police chief. You know your grandfather. No moss grows on that rock.”
I nodded and smiled. My eyelids suddenly felt so heavy.
“Did Dr. Bush give me anything?”
“No, you’re just naturally exhausted from it all. Who wouldn’t be? Rest. I’ll keep you up on everything,” Anna said. I nodded and closed my eyes.
I had no idea how long I had slept, but I woke to the sound of crying. I rose slowly, whispering “Mommy.” Anna was there before I reached the bedroom door. She seized my arm.
“Back to bed,” she ordered softly. Even so, her voice cracked with emotion.
“What is it? Why are you crying?”
The terror in her face frightened me more than anything. She was afraid to speak.
“There has been an accident,” she said as soon as I had sat on the bed.
“Wait,” I heard Grandfather say. He appeared in the doorway with Dr. Bush at his side again. Grandfather looked pale, his eyes red.
“Best you lie down,” Dr. Bush said. They both stepped in, but I didn’t move.
“Where’s my mother?” I asked. My voice was dry, hollow, as if someone else was speaking through me.
“There has been a dreadful accident,” Grandfather began. He stepped closer.
Dr. Bush took my hand. I glanced at him fearfully and turned back to Grandfather. Anna had stepped back and was sniffling.
“Preliminary reports tell me that the boat lost its engine power, was caught in a wave, and capsized. The skipper was able to get to your mother, but…”
“But what?”
“Either the edge of the boat or something on it struck her in the head when the boat overturned.”
“She died instantly,” Dr. Bush said. I think he thrust that into the description to make me feel better that she didn’t struggle or drown. But it didn’t diminish the effect it had on me.
For a few moments, I was too overwhelmed to cry.
“It’s best I give you something, Lisa. The impact on our bodies when we have tragedies is bigger than people know.”
I said nothing. I stared ahead while he gave me a shot.
Grandfather was letting his tears streak down his cheeks. “She was the daughter I wanted,” he said, almost too low for me to hear.
Anna stepped out of the room.
“Have you reached Daddy?” I asked.
“I left a message for him to call me when he gets to his next meeting. Your aunt said she’ll stop by tomorrow. Made it sound like an ordinary visit,” he said, mostly to himself. “There’s lots for us to do now, but you rest, because you’ll need your strength. I’ll be leaning on you,” he added.
What Grandfather was saying was finally taking hold of me.