Chapter 19
She’d promised to call Brandon.
In order to do that, Maddie would have to stand up and navigate her way to the sofa, where she’d left her phone. And she’d have to go somewhere where her father could not overhear her conversation.
Moving right then, however, did not feel like an option. Though she was in a straight chair, she’d started to rock back and forth, the envelope clutched in her hand. It now seemed like, for months, she’d been targeted; mostly, she’d wondered who? Now the bigger question seemed to be why?
Was it to bully her? Scare her? Or was it only a harmless prank?
Three notes—and a single, stupid phone call that probably wasn’t related—over a four-month span hardly suggested her life was in peril. If so, her intuition surely would have kicked in by now to warn her.
Wouldn’t it have?
Brandon most likely would say it was time for her to go to the police.
But with no signature or return address, no pattern to the timing of the notes, and nothing else that revealed a darn thing, notifying the police seemed pointless.
Other than watching the cottage twenty-four-seven—which she couldn’t expect them to do now with their smaller, off-season staff—she would be asking the impossible.
She couldn’t tell Rex for obvious reasons.
Joe might know of an up-island mischief-maker inclined to try and run off a washashore for fun. But telling Joe might stir up discord within the tribe.
She supposed she could leave a note of her own under the rock, calling the perpetrator’s bluff: I’m sorry you don’t want me here. Tough luck. I’m not leaving. But that would be juvenile, as if she was tugging at her ear lobes while sticking out her tongue.
After pondering her options, Maddie made a decision: In light of Rex’s condition, her pregnancy, and still having late-night doubts about moving forward with the bookshop, worrying about a few pathetic notes was petty and self-indulgent.
The level of danger was low; she might make things worse if she—or the police—tried to flush out and confront the sender.
The only sensible solution was to forget it.
With her tea and sandwich untouched and envelope still sealed, she stood up and walked down the hall, past the room where Stephen was perusing the internet.
Once in her bedroom, she deposited the unread note in the nightstand on top of the others, changed into a nightgown, and lay down on her bed.
Worn out from the weekend and all the worrying that had followed, she stared at the ceiling and tried to focus on being happy that Rex had called, that he was and would be okay, and that everything would come together as it would. Or would not.
By the time Maddie awoke, it was dark. And though she would have preferred to savor the quiet, she was hungry.
Getting up, she put on her robe and slippers and padded down the hall toward the kitchen. But as she approached her mother’s old room, she heard her father say something in a low voice. Thinking he’d been speaking to her, she turned to go in but the door was closed. Then she heard him laugh.
She stopped.
His next words were clear. “I hope it’s only a matter of time. How long can you wait?”
Was he talking to himself? Maddie wasn’t sure if she should interrupt or keep walking and pretend that she hadn’t heard.
She waited a few seconds, but there was only silence.
Maybe he’d had a talk-to-yourself moment; she was guilty of those—usually in the supermarket—which she followed by a short prayer that no one had heard her.
But as she started to step away, his voice resumed.
“There’s another minor complication, but I think we can get around it.”
He was on the phone. Her intuition pricked her like a thorn on a Rosa rugosa.
“Look, Dan,” the lower tone said, “I don’t know what else to say. She gets more entrenched in this place every day. But I can’t believe it’s too late.”
She went rigid. Her father was talking about her … to … Dan? As in Dan Jarvis of Green Hills College? The same man who had practically handed her the tenure position that she’d since turned down in order to stay on the Vineyard and be with her grandmother and have a new life?
Maddie leaned her ear close to the crack in the old wood doorway that hadn’t needed replacing after the fire.
Stephen had ceased talking; he must have been listening. Then he said, “I’ll keep trying. Remember, I want her there as much as you do.”
Maddie wasn’t sure if she felt angry or afraid.
Creeping back to her bedroom, she closed the door and went back to bed. But even under the covers she couldn’t get warm.
Had her father been trying to appease Dan? Or did he genuinely want her back in Green Hills? Had he been pretending to help set up the bookshop to indulge her … while, all this time, he’d been plotting against her?
Then she remembered the notes.
GET OFF THE ISLAND, the first one had read.
She’d found it right after Cranberry Day, when she’d been sure it was from someone who’d heard she wanted the old bait and tackle shop.
But her dad had left the Vineyard two days before the note arrived.
Could he have put it on the front porch at Rex’s cabin, where she—or Grandma, or Joe, or Rafe, all of whom had come and gone those couple of days—hadn’t noticed?
Or had someone delivered it for him? If so, who else would have agreed to the charade?
Grandma? Joe? Not a chance. At least she didn’t think there was. But who else?
A single name came to mind: Evelyn?
No. Not Evelyn, either. Maddie scolded herself for being suspicious of people who’d done so much for her.
“Maddie? Are you awake?” His voice again. That time, at her closed bedroom door. “I see you didn’t touch the sandwich. If you’re hungry now, so am I. How about if I take you out to dinner?”
She didn’t answer because she didn’t know how she’d react.
Maddie had never liked confrontation, had never been good at it, preferring to swallow her anger.
She wasn’t sure she could do that now. For the first time ever, she might erupt at her father.
So, instead of risking a showdown, she squeezed her eyes shut, pulled the covers up to her neck, and willed herself to ignore the one man on the planet she always had trusted.
More than once, Owen had chided Maddie about being what he called obstinate.
The following morning, she decided to use it to her advantage.
Maybe obstinacy would help her sneak out of the cottage, away from her father.
Otherwise, she’d be tempted to ask how long he planned to stay now that she was functioning again, her life heading in a new direction whether he liked it or not.
Her unspoken statement, however, went unnoticed; by the time she showered, dressed, and gathered her things, no one else was in the cottage. There was only a note on the kitchen table.
A note! she thought with acerbity. Stephen still hadn’t mastered texting. Or hadn’t wanted to master it. She picked up the scrap of paper and read: Dropping Nancy at Joe’s, then doing errands. See you later—D
Her father had always signed messages to her with a simple “D,” as in Dad. It was cute when she’d been six or seven. But if a note was how he chose to communicate, she could play his game.
Grabbing the pen he’d left on the table, below his message she wrote: I’m out for most of the day. She did not sign it with a “D” for daughter as she’d typically done. Instead, she grabbed the paint chips and stomped toward the door with what she recognized as adolescence at its finest.
Her father’s car was not in the tiny lot behind the house.
Nor was it by the bookshop at the harbor, which was Maddie’s first stop.
She’d hoped to find Kevin so they could resolve the shades of paint and decide what color should go where.
But the shop was locked, the blinds were drawn, and no one answered when she knocked.
Behind the wheel again, she headed to North Road then onto State toward Alley’s in West Tisbury, which was thankfully open year-round; she stopped and grabbed a coffee, yogurt, and a corn muffin because she and the baby were starving.
The baby! she thought with an equal mix of perplexity and terror.
Then she got out of the car, tossed the coffee, and went back inside for a decaf.
Once in the car again, she dove into her breakfast before continuing on her mission. She sat chewing, contemplating, struggling to corral her bouncing thoughts, wondering when she could tell Rex. She slid into fantasy: If Rex was home, she could text him.
I’M HEADING TO CHAPPY, she’d type. I’LL STOP IF YOU’RE AROUND? Just because she was pregnant did not mean she’d take it for granted that she could barge into his place without notice. Any more than she’d done last October. Maddie was good at not being clingy.
Rex would text back: YES, PLEASE! I’VE BEEN THINKING OF YOU. Maybe he’d sign off with three heart emojis, though she supposed he wasn’t that corny. Still, it would be nice.
She would go to his place; he’d make coffee, she’d ask for herb tea; they’d linger at his table. Then she would tell him. And he’d be the one consumed by emotion.
“You’ve made me the happiest man on earth,” he’d say.
Then she wondered if life had been easier when there were unspoken rules about couples being married before babies began to arrive, back when wedding vows were supposedly the key to a happy life.
Now who’s being pathetic? she asked herself.
With a sigh, she swallowed the last crumbs of the muffin and what was left of the yogurt, remembering that none of her daydreams mattered.
So she turned on the ignition and drove out of the lot, wondering why she was wasting gas driving to Chappy.
Maybe because it was as far as she could get from her father without having to get on a boat.
After what took forever, she arrived at the On Time. By then she was tired again, but perked up when she saw that the captain that morning was Kevin.