Chapter 20
“Can we call someone to get you home?” an emergency department admin person asked, once Maddie had been fully checked and was being discharged.
The back of her neck hurt with what the doctor described as a “minor whiplash,” her shoulders were sore, and her lower back felt trampled on, not by an elephant but perhaps a toddler, like Francine’s son, Reggie, the one named after Rex.
The name that was now ever-present in Maddie’s mind.
“You most likely grabbed the wheel too tight,” the doctor had assured her. “It’s a common reaction.” He’d added that everything seemed fine, most importantly, the baby, though he suggested she see her obstetrician—which was when she’d asked for a name.
“Dr. Mason is a year-round island resident,” was the reply. “It might be a good time of year to get an appointment.”
So, Dr. Mason it would be. That was easy, she thought.
As for a ride, she supposed she could ask them to call Taylor, who might be busy with her caretaking jobs, but Maddie couldn’t think of anyone who wasn’t busy.
Or was there. On second thought, she decided she did not want to deal with Taylor—the first person who’d recognized that Maddie was pregnant—a woman she barely knew.
She could have asked them to call Joe, but Grandma was probably still at his place, and the call might scare her.
Of course, the most likely person to pick Maddie up would be her father.
No, she thought. The last person she wanted to see was him.
But she did want to get back to the cottage; she wanted a cup of hot tea and a good rest. At least she could hibernate in her room where she wouldn’t have to talk to him.
So that left … no one.
She supposed it was against hospital regulations to ask to pay the admin woman to skip out for a while and drive her home.
After another moment of useless pondering, Maddie said, “I don’t want to bother anyone at home; I’ll call a taxi.
” She tried to look pleasant and not desperate.
Later, she’d call Kevin, tell him what happened, and reassure him that she and the baby were fine, in case he’d somehow heard about the accident through the grapevine. Or from his EMT wife.
On the way to Menemsha, Maddie sat in the back of the cab, stared out the window, and thought—with reluctance—about her father.
It was the first time Maddie had been in a car accident; it might be extra hard for him.
After all, they were staying in the same cottage, right up the street from where her mother had lain in the road, instantly killed, the clams from her basket strewn around her.
Maddie considered the possibility that each time she left the cottage, Stephen worried that she, too, might not return.
As the car navigated the hills and curves toward up-island, the afternoon light wrestled to peek through gray clouds, while tall trees on either side stood winter-naked, framing the rolling farms. She wondered if she’d needed to have the accident so she could understand that even if her father had written the bizarre notes, even if he was in cahoots with Dan Jarvis, Maddie needed to forgive him because he was her father and she loved him very much.
With that in mind, she rested her head against the back of the seat, and thanked God the baby had been spared.
Stephen’s car wasn’t behind the cottage. A lump swelled in Maddie’s throat. Had he packed his belongings and gone home? She went inside and checked Hannah’s old bedroom; his backpack and valise were there; his clothes remained hanging tidily in the armoires.
She sighed, grateful that he hadn’t left.
Grandma wasn’t home yet, either.
As badly as she’d thought she wanted to be alone, instead she wished there was someone she could talk to. So Maddie decided to walk down to the bookshop and see if her father was there, or if Kevin had arrived. But as she opened the front door to step out, she nearly bumped into Taylor.
Taylor flinched; Maddie recoiled, unsure which one of them had been more startled.
Then Maddie laughed, to break the awkward ice.
“Are you looking for your husband?” Taylor, after all, was not a drop-by-for-a-cup-of-tea kind of person. And now that she knew Maddie was pregnant …
“Is he here?” the auburn-maned woman asked, responding to a question with a question.
Maddie shook her head. “I’m actually heading to the bookshop with paint samples. Have you checked there?” She supposed it was a stupid question; of course Taylor would have first looked for her husband where he was working, not where Maddie lived.
“He’s not there.”
“I saw him earlier at the Chappy ferry; he said he’d be up-island later. Would you like to come in for tea and wait?” Since she’d assured Kevin she would not tell his wife that he’d spilled the pregnancy beans, she had to remember to be careful about what she said.
Taylor hoisted her woven bag higher on her shoulder. “Sure.”
Hoping they might be able to become decent friends—as Rex’s sister, Taylor would be the baby’s aunt—Maddie stepped aside and Taylor came into the cottage and Maddie then hung up their coats. Taylor opted for black huckleberry tea, then sat at the table, and Maddie moved to the kitchen.
It was all somewhat awkward, but that wasn’t a surprise.
“I was in a minor car accident today,” she said as she filled the kettle. “At Beetlebung Corner.”
Taylor harrumphed, or something like that. “That can be a bad spot,” she said.
“It was my fault. I pulled over to make a call. When I hung up, I didn’t pay attention, and I drove straight into the side of a pickup.”
“Anyone hurt?”
Ah, Maddie thought and wondered if the baby subject would—or should—arise after all, or if they both would smoothly circumvent it.
She shook her head. “The young man in the truck didn’t have a scratch. My air bag went off in my face, which was good, but I do feel like I have a sunburn. The EMTs came, and took me to the hospital where I got the all-clear. So, no, no one was hurt.” She took a breath of relief.
“My brother would have been a wreck if you were hurt.” Then Taylor fiddled with a button on her cardigan, evading the unspoken subject. “I don’t know if you know it, but I’m an EMT, too. In case you’re ever in Edgartown and need one.”
Indeed, she was evading.
“They’re lucky to have you right there on Chappy.”
“I try to do my part.”
Maddie served the tea and sat down, wondering if she could just broach the baby subject and stop the nonsense. As an EMT, maybe Taylor was trained not to divulge information … except, apparently, to her husband. Then she had an idea.
“I still haven’t seen a gynecologist. At the hospital they mentioned a Dr. Mason. Do you know anything about him?”
Taylor shifted in her seat. “He’s a she. And yes, I know her. Helen Mason. She’s an ob-gyn. Been here a long time. From what I’ve heard, she does a good job.”
“Great. Thanks.”
Taylor sipped her tea.
Maddie saw it as an opportunity to change the subject. “I’m also sorry I don’t have cookies or anything to offer you.”
“When my brother’s around, we get enough baked goods from him. As if running his restaurant isn’t enough, he thinks it’s also his job to provide fresh muffins and scones to half of Chappy.”
“You must miss him.”
“Yes.” She sipped again, then glanced at her watch. “I’d better go. If I see Kevin, I’ll tell him you have the paint samples. Or I can deliver them.” It was obvious she did not want to discuss Rex. For which Maddie was grateful.
“Thanks, but I need Kevin’s advice. I’ve picked the colors, but I’m not sure which ones should go where.”
Taylor stood up. “Okay. Thanks for the tea.” She pulled her knit cap over her mass of hair and retrieved her jacket.
“Good luck with Dr. Mason,” she added as she walked toward the front door.
“In addition to being a gynecologist, she’s an obstetrician.
But I don’t suppose you’ll need one of those.
” She went out the front door before Maddie could determine whether the last comment was meant to be funny or sarcastic.
But Maddie had more important things on her mind than to try to analyze Taylor or her motives.
She would start by calling Dr. Mason to schedule an appointment.
Then she’d rent a car so she wouldn’t be stuck in the cottage until hers was fixed; she was told it could take a while because her insurance company was based on the other side of the state, and that Deke’s couldn’t start to work on it until they responded.
Next, she had to figure out the best time—and most effective way—to talk to her father about his phone call with Dan Jarvis.
Last, but certainly not least, she must call Rex and tell him about the baby. Before someone else did.
“Dr. Mason is off-island until the end of March,” a woman who answered the phone said. “I can refer you to someone on the Cape, or I can book you here on, say, April second at one p.m.? You can start taking prenatal vitamins, if you haven’t already. A pharmacist can help you with that.”
April 2nd was six weeks away, later than Maddie had hoped.
She did, however, want a Vineyard doctor, rather than be dependent on the ferry—and the weather—to get her back and forth to every appointment.
So she quickly accepted, and prayed she and the baby would stay healthy until then, when she’d be a full five-and-a-half months pregnant.
Between now and then, she’d have plenty to do.
Starting with getting the vitamins, which prompted her to pick up her phone again and track down a rental car; she was told they could deliver one the next morning.
Sitting on the sofa, gazing out at the winter-still harbor, she wondered if she should call Rex before she talked to her father.
If she could tell Rex the news, would that help Stephen understand?
“I have to stay on the island now, Dad,” she could rationalize.
“Rex is excited. He’s never had children; I can’t take this one away from him. ”
But as she picked up her phone, Stephen opened the back door and walked in. He’d developed a way of doing that at inopportune times.
“I thought you were out,” he said before hello. “Where’s your car?”
“In the shop. I was in an accident.”
“What?” His voice was knee-jerk sharp. He slipped off his gloves and moved briskly to the sofa before taking off his jacket. “Are you okay?”
“I am, yes. It was a minor thing.” She waved it off, then gave him a condensed version of what happened. “Actually, Dad, I’m more upset about a conversation I overheard yesterday. The one you had with Dan Jarvis.”
With his eyes moving to his hands, he jammed the gloves into his pockets.
It was hard to tell if he had paled, because since he’d come back after New Year’s, the once clean-shaven Stephen had grown a neat, salt-and-pepper beard that made his blue eyes stand out, but minimized any pink that might have come to his cheeks.
“Oh,” he said, and stared at the floor.
Maddie riveted her eyes on him. “May I ask what it was about? Other than me?”
He made a small sound like a wounded bird. “It’s complicated.”
“Life’s complicated, Dad. Especially for me right now.”
He turned his face toward the window, away from her. “Dan’s been a good friend for three decades.” At least he didn’t add that without that history, Maddie might not have procured her teaching position, or been chosen for the coveted tenure track.
“He’s in trouble, Maddie. Enrollment has declined in the department.
Fewer students are choosing to major in English.
They’re more interested in IT, AI, and whatever other initials smell like cutting-edge technology.
Which, of course, affects the school’s pocketbook.
Your classes were a big draw. But now that you’re stepping aside … ”
“I’m not stepping aside,” she said. “I already stepped. And I’m not sure how the school’s drop in enrollment is my problem.
Or my responsibility to fix.” Standing up, she went to the fireplace and picked up the small pottery bowl with the daisy on the front.
“Do you know what this is, Dad? I painted it when I was four. I went to summer day camp here. And Evelyn was my teacher.” She set down the bowl, then picked up her mother’s painting of the sunset with two silhouettes walking on the beach, hand in hand.
“And this? You probably know my mother painted it. You might not know that the silhouettes are Grandma Nancy and me.” She rested the canvas back on the mantel next to the little bowl, and decided not to show him the quahog shell, because that would be cruel.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I don’t expect Dan to understand how much the Vineyard means to me, or that I feel cheated out of not having been allowed to spend time here with my grandmother when I was growing up.
I’m not blaming you; I’m sure it was a painful time—and subject—for you.
And for Grandma. But the fact is, I am Wampanoag.
And being on the island makes me feel I’ve come home. ”
Stephen remained quiet.
Now was the time for Maddie to tell him the other news. But the words were stuck in her throat like a large, uncoated pill.
He sighed deeply, then said, “I’m sorry, Madelyn.” His voice was low and noncommittal.
Heat rose in her face, perhaps due to the emotional roller coaster of her physical condition. Or because she felt entitled to more than a limp “I’m sorry,” as if she were one of his students disappointed by a grade.
“Well, I’m sorry to tell you that I have no intention of going back to the Berkshires.
Shit happens, Dad.” Maddie rarely swore.
When she did, it was to make a clear point that she meant what she said.
And in that moment, she felt affirmed about her decision.
Finally. There would be a bookshop. There would be a baby.
And she hoped Rex would be part of their lives however it worked for him. And her. But mostly for their child.
It wasn’t until she huffed off to her room and sat in the lovely rocker with a view of the harbor that Maddie recognized that not only hadn’t she told her father she was pregnant, she also hadn’t asked if he’d written the notes. Or if he thought Dan had found—and paid—someone to deliver them.
For now, all she knew was that her father was angry and upset, and despite her own exasperation, there was no reason to make things worse. Besides, if he’d known about the notes, surely they would stop appearing now.