Chapter 15
“They’ve gone.”
Noah let out a heavy sigh as he looked up from his laptop.
Grace and her son had left just a few minutes ago; he’d watched them walk down the drive from the front door.
He didn’t need Isaiah to tell him they weren’t here anymore, he felt it, but as he glanced at the caretaker standing in the doorway, looking more serious than usual, he had a feeling he was about to be scolded.
“I’m sorry for what I said. I apologized to Grace,” he said abruptly, and then turned back to his laptop, hoping the conversation was over, and already knowing it wasn’t.
“That’s not the point, Noah,” Isaiah said, sounding stern. “And you know it.”
Wearily Noah lifted his eyes from his screen once more. He didn’t want to ask, but maybe if he did, he’d get this conversation over with sooner. “Then what is the point?”
“Staying here by yourself for as long as you have been?” Isaiah raised his eyebrows. “I understand why you’ve done it, but it’s not healthy, and especially not for this long. You have to move on. Live your life.”
Noah’s mouth firmed. “I’m not ready to move on,” he replied tersely.
In any case, there was nothing to move on to.
“And,” he added, hoping this might persuade the old man, “considering what you just witnessed, I’m obviously not ready to be released into the wild yet.
I have no social graces.” He tried to smile but Isaiah’s expression stayed stony. “This is what I need,” he said firmly.
“It might be what you need, but it’s unproductive,” Isaiah replied, his voice flat.
Noah stiffened. “Unproductive? What is that supposed to mean?”
“How does hiding away help you?” Isaiah demanded. “How does not talking to anyone make you a better person or less of a jerk?”
Noah felt himself flushing. “Were you eavesdropping—”
“I might have heard a few things,” Isaiah admitted gruffly. “That is definitely not the point.”
Noah managed a croaky laugh. “Right. Of course it isn’t.”
“Noah.” Isaiah came into the room to lay his hands flat on Noah’s desk, his head thrust forward, his faded blue eyes glittering. Noah couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Isaiah so animated, so anxious. “What good does punishing yourself do?”
“Punishing myself?” Noah stared at him, his jaw bunching so it ached.
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” he demanded.
“Do you really think I’m that much of a pathetic sadomasochist, that all this is about is making myself feel bad?
” He’d suspected Isaiah hadn’t had a great opinion of him, but he hadn’t thought it was as low as that.
How sad could you get? Admittedly, he was pretty sad.
For the first time, the old caretaker looked uncertain, even confused. He eased back, dropping his hands from the desk, his manner thankfully a little less confrontational. “What then?” he asked quietly.
Noah shook his head, too weary, or really, just too unwilling to explain. “This is all I’m capable of right now,” he told him in a low voice. “All I can manage. Can’t you accept that? In time…” He let that thought fizzle out, because he knew it wasn’t going anywhere.
“You know, time isn’t the great healer,” Isaiah stated. He sounded ornerier than Noah had ever heard before. “At least, not automatically. If you sit in a dark room for ten years, you don’t come out magically healed.”
“Well, is there food and water in the room?” Noah asked with the ghost of a smile. “Because I can see how that could be an issue. You might come out emaciated or—”
“Noah, I’m serious.” Isaiah’s eyes flashed with what looked like genuine annoyance. Noah didn’t think he’d looked so stern since he’d taken the sunfish out in a storm when he was twelve. Admittedly, it had been a stupid thing to do.
But when he’d come limping back to Grayhaven eighteen months ago, Isaiah hadn’t been stern or disapproving or even disappointed, even though he knew as much as Noah’s mother did, and she hadn’t talked to him since Jem’s funeral.
Isaiah had simply accepted his presence here and had quietly and capably gone about taking care of him—food, laundry, a listening ear even though Noah never said anything.
He knew if he did, Isaiah would be there, ready to hear it.
Noah supposed the old man thought this talking-to was taking care of him, too.
“I know you’re serious,” he said quietly. “And so am I.”
“You are not going to heal,” Isaiah stated definitively, “staying cooped up here with nothing but your memories.”
“How poetical.” The caretaker’s eyes flashed again and Noah sighed. He didn’t want to debate the point, because he knew Isaiah wouldn’t understand, and he wasn’t willing to explain that he wasn’t trying to heal. He wasn’t expecting to, either. That wasn’t what this was about.
“You choose to be cooped up here,” he pointed out. Isaiah lived at Grayhaven year-round, had done since they’d left all those years ago, save for a couple of weeks in Florida in the winter, “for his bones.”
“I stay here,” Isaiah replied with dignity, “because your mother asked me to take care of this place. And I go out,” Isaiah flashed back. “I see people on the mainland. I travel. I live a life.”
Noah sighed. He supposed the old man had a point. “If it makes you feel better,” he said instead, “I asked Grace and Jacob to come back the day after tomorrow for another lesson.”
Isaiah’s mouth dropped open and then snapped shut.
Although he didn’t say anything, Noah could see he was pleased.
Too pleased. His eyes glinted and his mouth curved, a slight flush coming into his sagging cheeks.
The old man was matchmaking and the smart thing to do, Noah knew, would be to shut him down.
Right now, though, he had neither the heart nor the will.
“Well,” Isaiah said finally, sounding brisk. “I’m glad you can occasionally see sense.”
“Coming back from Grayhaven?”
Grace’s steps slowed as she caught sight of Becca walking in from the jetty, her dark curls windblown, her face flushed and her eyes dancing.
She nodded toward the gates of Grayhaven, now closed, the steep drive twisting its way up the hill.
“You seem to be spending a fair amount of time there,” she remarked with a little laugh.
She cocked her head, clearly waiting for Grace to spill something.
“Jacob is having chess lessons,” she explained. “He loves the game, and Noah—Mr. Lawrence—offered.”
“Oh, wow. That sounds fun.” Becca smiled at Jacob, her forehead crinkling just a little when her son remained silent, his hand slipped into Grace’s, his gaze wide and unblinking. “Well, anyway…” Becca glanced back speculatively at Grace. “And are you getting to know Noah?”
“Not really,” Grace said quickly. Maybe a little too quickly, but as eager as Becca seemed for her to dish some dirt, she wasn’t remotely ready to do so.
Her mind was still far too jumbled, and she had no idea what she thought about anything, Noah Lawrence especially.
She needed, Grace thought, to sit still and silent for about an hour and let everything Noah had said settle inside her.
Figure out what it meant, what it could mean, if anything.
Just then a young man, maybe eighteen or so, lanky and long-limbed, with the same curly dark hair as Becca, came strolling up toward them.
“Hey, Ma, I cleaned out the holds. Gonna go wash up.” He glanced curiously at Grace, a friendly smile tugging at his lips before he stuck out one callused hand. “Hey, I’m Lewis Babcock.”
Grace reached out to shake it. “Hi, Lewis, I’m Grace.
” She was trying not to do a double take at the sight of Becca’s son.
He was way, way older than she’d thought.
When Bab had told her that she lived with her daughter and grandson, and then she’d met Becca and seen she was only in her thirties, she’d assumed her son would be roughly the same age as Jacob.
She’d even been toying with the idea of setting up a playdate between the two boys, if Jacob was up for it.
The thought was now ludicrous; Lewis was basically a man, which meant Becca must have had him when she herself was a teenager.
He and Becca exchanged a few more fish-related remarks that went over Grace’s head before strolling back to the cottage. Grace watched him go before glancing at Becca, who was looking at her with a tired and knowing smile.
“I know, I know,” she said. “I was a child bride. Minus the bride part.”
“Sorry,” Grace said with an embarrassed little laugh, “I’d assumed he was Jacob’s age.” And no one had told her any differently, although she didn’t suppose they had any reason to.
“I had him when I was seventeen,” Becca replied.
“It was tough, especially at first, but my mom was great. All that stuff up at Grayhaven had happened the year before, and my dad dying and my brothers leaving… I think she was grateful for the distraction as well as the company. Besides, it’s not like there are a lot of people around here to gossip about the girl who got knocked up, right? ”
“True enough,” Grace agreed. “But weren’t there more people back then?” she asked.
For a second, no more, Becca’s face hardened.
“There were a few more families,” she acknowledged, “but they left, pretty soon after that girl died and the Lawrences packed up. Turned this place into even more of a ghost town. Ghost island, I guess.” She glanced out at the water, placid under a sinking sun, her eyes narrowed and her mouth set in something that was not quite a grimace.
Grace had the sense that despite Becca’s almost relentless good humor, life had been hard to her.
According to what she’d just said, her father had died and her brothers had left when she was still a teenager, and then she’d had to raise a son of her own, all in an isolated and undoubtedly lonely environment.
It was a reminder, she thought, that everyone had something going on in their lives. Just like Noah Lawrence.
“Anyway, I’m glad I caught you,” Becca said as she turned back from her contemplative view of the ocean to give Grace a ready smile.
“I wanted to ask if you felt like going over to the mainland one day this week. I have a few errands I need to run, and I know this island can start to feel pretty small. Plus, Ned doesn’t like to take too many trips, so it’s better if we coordinate, and…
” She hesitated, looking almost shy. “I wouldn’t mind the company if you don’t, and I could show you around a little. ”
“I’d love that,” Grace replied. She wasn’t sure if the island was feeling small, per se, but the thought of browsing a few stores, maybe even getting a latte, sounded heavenly.
She’d like to get to know Becca better, too, and, she realized, she wanted to buy some new, more serviceable, clothes for island living.
“Is there a Target nearby?” she asked. “I need to buy some clothes.”
Becca made a face. “About two and a half hours away? But Eastport is only forty minutes from Salt Cove, and it has some decent stores. The art galleries and craft boutiques will be closed this early in the season, but you can get some clothes at Wadsworths and there are a couple of thrift stores, too.”
“Sounds great,” Grace replied firmly.
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
Jacob was meant to have another chess lesson the day after tomorrow, if she decided to go ahead with it, which she was pretty sure she had.
Although he hadn’t said anything—surprise, surprise—Jacob had definitely seemed to enjoy the lesson, and Grace didn’t want to deprive him, no matter how potentially awkward or uncomfortable things might be between her and Noah.
As for tomorrow, she’d do her regular walk of the reserve a little earlier, so there was plenty of time to head to the mainland. Her heart lifted at the thought of getting off the island and exploring the area with a friend, or at least a potential friend.
“Tomorrow,” she told Becca, “is perfect.”