Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Nora slept fitfully that night. Rolling around on her dorm bed, listening to the sounds of the city out the window and the footsteps that padded up and down the halls, she felt singular and alone in ways she never had.
It reminded her of that night, when her parents were supposed to return home, how she’d awoken in the dark with a start, searching for their familiar sounds as they prepared for bed.
But there had been nothing but the howling winds outside.
Nora’s alarm clock rang at six o’clock the following morning.
Feeling dutiful, like a much older woman, she told herself to shove her fears aside, showered, did her hair and makeup, and went to her internship, willing herself to walk semi-normally in the moderate heels her Aunt Cynthia had gifted her for the occasion.
At the office, the other interns weren’t as cocky and confident as they’d been at the rooftop bar last night.
They scuttled around with coffees, only spoke when they were spoken to, and jotted down notes so that they wouldn’t forget any of the office politics or what was expected of them.
Nora fell in line, accustomed to this kind of arrangement after her month in Nantucket with her aunt and uncle.
She wondered if she would always be this far down on the totem pole.
She wondered how she’d ever prove herself.
To Nora’s surprise, on the second day of her internship, she received a letter directly to her desk. Immediately, she recognized the handwriting as Max’s. She hurried to the bathroom to open the letter in private.
Dear Nora,
I realized after you left the island that I didn’t ask for your address or a phone number where I could reach you.
Lucky for me, you mentioned where your internship is.
I’m hoping this letter finds you loving your work, writing as much as you can, and learning what you need to know to make it in that world of magazines.
Maybe you’ve already forgotten the little world we built here on the island. I can only hope not.
Knowing you the past month has meant getting to know a brain that is leaps and bounds ahead of mine, intellectually. Around Nantucket Island, I’m not used to that. I hope you know you’ve already taught me so much.
Missing you here. I’m helping to clean out a few of the garages at the Greenaway house later. I imagine it’ll feel like an empty task, now that I can’t peer over at the beach and see you playing with the little Greenaway kids. How did you get them to love you so much? What a mystery.
I still plan to join you in the city next week. It feels like a lifetime away.
Love, Max
After rereading the letter three times, Nora realized she was crying.
Wiping her tears, she hurried back to her desk, where she was immediately brought into an editorial session for the “dating advice” column of the magazine.
It lasted three hours. Only then did she have a bit of time to compose a letter back to Max.
In it, she refrained from talking about the supposed murder at the Greenaway house and spoke only about how wonderful the city was, how much she was learning, and how alien she felt when compared to the other girls.
She imagined someone in the future reading their letters and growing envious over how much love simmered between them.
It was funny to imagine a future in which she and Max had already known and loved one another for decades. It was funny to think of their children, who would probably roll their eyes every time someone talked about how much their parents loved each other.
Nora grinned at her desk, folding up the letter and slipping it into an envelope she’d taken from the magazine.
She used the return address he’d listed on the letter he’d sent her, one that would have the letter delivered to a fish bait shop in Nantucket.
Nora wondered what his connection to the fish bait shop was.
But she guessed that was the best way to track him down.
Cecily caught her smile and asked what was going on.
“Nothing,” Nora said.
“You’re in love,” Rachel said from the other side of the desk, eyeing her. “Tell us about him!”
But Nora didn’t want to taint her love for Max with conversation. She didn’t want to talk about the intricacies of their kissing or about how awful it sometimes was to sleep because her body ached for his. She didn’t want to be just another teenager, pining after a boy.
“I’m not in love,” Nora lied.
But the girls didn’t believe her. Nora wouldn’t have believed herself either.
The following Monday, after Nora had spent a full week in Manhattan and a full week interning at the magazine, Max arrived.
Nora met him at the bus station in her office skirt and button-down, running fully toward him in her little heels and throwing her arms around him.
They were a spectacle; everyone at the station was watching.
When they kissed, it felt like fireworks.
As they pulled back from one another, their eyes locked.
Nora marveled that he looked even more handsome than he had last she’d seen him, that their week apart had elevated her love for him in ways she couldn’t have foreseen.
“Let’s go,” she said. “I’ll show you my city.”
Max and Nora walked the streets hand in hand, eating corn dogs and updating one another on their weeks.
They’d exchanged several letters, which was extraordinary for only a week away, but Nora was glad to hear the stories he’d already imparted live and in his wonderful voice.
Eventually, she led him to the same rooftop bar where she knew they didn’t card, and they drank beers and watched the sunset over the city.
They kissed often, unable to keep their hands off one another.
Nora kept saying, “I can’t believe you’re here. ”
Nora’s lonely days were over. Throughout that last week of her internship, she sped through work and then hurried into the early evening to hang out with Max.
They ate, hung out in parks, read books, and talked, and talked, and talked.
Everything Max said seemed like the smartest thing she’d ever heard.
A strange and wonderful part of her wondered if they should blow off high school and stay in the city.
Maybe they could take the GED at some point, get their high school diplomas, and still go to college.
Max was entering his senior year at Nantucket High, which meant he’d only miss a year.
Nora was happy to miss her junior and senior years if it meant staying in the city, drinking cheap beers on a rooftop, and living as brightly as they could.
The fact that the murder had completely slipped Nora’s mind didn’t occur to her until their last day in the city.
Their bags packed, they were debating whether they really wanted to catch the bus back to the island.
Of course, there were many logistics to figure out if they decided to stay.
They were being kicked out of the dorm, that was clear, as another round of high school interns were coming to the magazine and needed the room.
But they could probably find somewhere else to stay if they really wanted to.
If they really wanted to commit to this strange and exhilarating life together.
Max parted his lips, seeming to weigh up what he wanted. “You know, my mom would worry. She would worry like crazy. I don’t know if I can make it work.”
Disappointment weighed heavily in Nora’s chest.
“Nora,” Max said gently, “we wouldn’t have any money. We’d likely end up hating each other.”
Nora frowned. “I could never hate you.”
“It’s easy to say that. But think of all the people we know in awful marriages. Think of your aunt and uncle.”
It was then that Nora remembered the murder.
Throwing her backpack over her shoulder and guiding Max down the dorm hallway and out into the sunny streets, she was quiet, thinking again of the monstrous people she was returning to.
And then she said, “Do you know anything about this murder? At my aunt and uncle’s place?
The other interns said it happened a few summers ago. ”
Max stopped short on the corner near the bus station. His face was a grassy-green color.
“Max?” Nora felt panicked. “Max, are you okay?”
Max took a breath. Nora glanced at the clock near the station entrance, realizing that if they didn’t hurry, they’d miss their bus. But she didn’t want to rush Max. She felt as though she’d made him angry, somehow, with this story of murder. Maybe it was made-up.
She should have known better than to trust gossip.
Max started walking again, speeding ahead of her to the bus. They got in line, bought their tickets, then threw their things beneath the vehicle and grabbed seats up top. Nora wanted desperately to hold Max’s hand. But he seemed closed off to her.
After another thirty minutes, Max murmured, “Your aunt and uncle are not good people, Nora.”
Nora remained quiet, rubbing her thighs.
She worried that someone on the bus would overhear them, that someone would tell her aunt and uncle they were talking like this.
But she reasoned that her aunt and uncle didn’t associate with people who took the bus.
The fact that they’d allow her to take it, she guessed, was proof enough that they didn’t care that much about her.
They’d never let Henry, Sarah, Felix, or Mona take the bus.
“Are you saying the murder really happened?” she asked, finally.
Max hesitated.
“Max, I’m tired of all this cageyness,” she said, annoyance merging with her fear. “I need to know what happened. This is my life. This is where I live.”
Max turned and locked eyes with her. “A man died a few years ago at the Greenaway house, yes,” he muttered. “That man was my father.” Then he turned his head and stared out the window, as though he couldn’t speak anymore.
Nora felt a gap in time. Anger melted away, leaving only sorrow and understanding.
Max’s father was dead! Just as hers was.
But he’d never mentioned that. He’d hardly spoken about his family at all, choosing instead to talk about books and nature and the wild world inside his head.
She wanted to throw her arms around Max and console him.
But he seemed so separate from her just then.
He seemed like he didn’t want to even look at her.
After three hours on the bus, Nora finally got up the nerve to ask, “So you think he really was murdered?”
Max closed his eyes and nodded. “I think foul play was involved, yes. But I haven’t been able to prove it.
I’ve spent countless hours at the Greenaway house, trying to get a feel for these people, trying to figure out what happened that night.
But everyone is cagey about it. The closer I get to your uncle, the more confused I am. What kind of monster is he?”
Nora shifted away from Max, if only slightly. But the space between their shoulders felt like a cavern. She suddenly wondered if Max had been using her all this time, if he’d been using their budding romance as a way to get as close to Uncle Everett as possible.
Was it possible that Max really didn’t care for her? That she’d landed in the midst of his scheme? She imagined Max over the past few years, working parties and cleanups at the Greenaway house, spying on her aunt and uncle, searching for clues.
But what if Uncle Everett hadn’t killed his father? What if it was all a great big, awful rumor? It wasn’t like Max was a trained inspector. He wasn’t a police officer. He was just a seventeen-year-old kid with a vendetta. He seemed naive.
Nora couldn’t speak for the rest of the trip.
When the bus reached Hyannis, the two of them got out and burned beneath the July sun while waiting for the ferry.
At Nantucket Harbor, they kissed with a passion that seemed heavy with anger, then parted ways, Nora grabbing a taxi back to the Greenaway house and Max meeting up with other islander friends elsewhere.
Nora wondered if they’d killed the magic between them. Maybe it hadn’t existed at all. Perhaps it had all been in her head.