Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
M ax barely slept that night because his thoughts wouldn’t quit churning happily over Sloane. He was out on his patio at 6:30 a.m. in fifty-six-degree weather waiting for her to appear. She stepped outside much later, at the regular time. When her chin turned in his direction to look for him, he was already striding to the base of her stairs.
“Good morning,” she said, bundled up in long silk pajamas and a winter robe, holding her coffee.
“Good morning.”
They smiled at each other and the memories of yesterday flowed between them like the sea.
“Will you spend the day with me?” he asked. “After church, I mean?”
“While Ivy’s working on homework, yes.”
At church, they exchanged secret looks each time Ivy’s attention was elsewhere. Twice, he linked one of his fingers with Sloane’s without the girl noticing.
God bless her, Ivy worked on homework most of Sunday afternoon, which meant Sloane returned to his house for hours.
On Monday, he was useless at work. By two o’clock, his ineffectiveness had become ridiculous, so he left, picked up two bags of Greek food, and delivered them to his grandparents’ house.
He was feeling like the redeemed version of Scrooge and grandly told them that he’d come to family gatherings more frequently. He’d often viewed his relatives as suffocating but in his current optimistic headspace, he saw how fortunate he was to be suffocated by them.
He glanced at the clock repeatedly during the conversation with Giagia and Pappous. The minutes were dragging like a fishing line that had snagged seaweed. Finally, he excused himself and headed home earlier than needed because he wanted to ensure he’d be available when Sloane finished her workday.
Ivy and a friend were attending a rat parent meet-up at the local veterinarian’s practice. He once again had Sloane alone for a few hours.
The same could not be said on Tuesday, when Sloane and Ivy arrived for their regularly scheduled dinner. On the menu, pulled pork sandwiches. Sloane arrived carrying a bowl of coleslaw. Her attention found him right away.
Ivy followed on Sloane’s heels with bottles of Topo Chico. “Hi, Max.”
“Hi.”
“I’ll set the table.” Ivy disappeared into the pantry, where he kept napkins.
Max kissed Sloane’s cheek. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
They stepped apart as Ivy emerged.
After filling their plates, they took their places around his table. In the middle of a story about a boy in her math class who’d been sent to the vice principal’s office, Ivy broke off. She peered back and forth between the adults. “What’s up?”
“What do you mean?” Max asked.
“I mean you two are, like . . . giving each other heavy, swoony looks. Is something going on?”
Sloane dabbed her lips with the inside of her folded napkin. “You could say that.”
“ Something’s going on? ”
“Yes.”
“What? What’s going on?”
“Undefined,” Sloane said. “It’s impolite to kiss and tell.”
“So you’re kissing ?!” Ivy clapped her hands on the sides of her face.
“It’s impolite to kiss and tell,” Sloane insisted.
“We’re kissing,” Max confirmed to Ivy.
“Max!” Sloane scolded.
He laughed.
“Finally!” Ivy exclaimed. “Are you happy?” she asked Sloane.
“Why aren’t you asking me if I’m happy?” Max wondered.
“Because of course you’re happy,” Ivy replied. “Aunt Sloane is the prettiest, wisest, kindest, best woman in the world.”
“Thank you, Ivy.” Sloane beamed. “And yes, I’m happy.”
Later, when Sloane was loading the dishwasher, Ivy pulled Max into his home office and closed the door. “What are your relationship plans with Aunt Sloane?”
“Wait. Am I having the ‘What are your intentions, young man?’ talk with a fifteen-year-old girl?”
“Um . . . yes?”
“This relationship is just seventy-two hours old.”
“That’s not true, though, is it? Your relationship with Aunt Sloane has been going on for years and you’ve been trying to win her over all summer.”
“Okay, fine.”
“So! What are your intentions, young man?”
He smiled at their role reversal. “I think it’s only fair that I share my intentions with Sloane before I share them with you.”
“I’m protective of my aunt.”
“You should be protective of me. I’m the one who’s likeliest to get decimated.”
“Really? No offense, but you’ve dated a lot of women for like two weeks each. You can’t be that way with Aunt Sloane. She deserves a lot better than that.”
“I agree.” He crossed his arms. “I can be who she deserves.”
Ivy appeared to take his measure. “She said ‘undefined’ when I asked her what was going on. Does that mean you haven’t gotten her to agree to be your girlfriend?”
“Not yet.”
She chewed on her lip. “Is she still dating Nate?”
His stomach fell like a box that had been dropped. “No. I think she’s only dating me.” But Sloane’s words came back to haunt him. “No commitments. This is just for fun.”
It would only be over his dead body that Sloane ended up with Nate.
“This is a first,” Max said approvingly on Thursday.
Sloane came to a stop in the driveway, where they were meeting to ride together to the solar eclipse. “Are you referring to my athletic outfit?”
“I am. You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you.”
It was a powerful thing, to realize that ungettable Max Cirillo found her irresistible. She almost never interacted with him or anyone wearing clothing this casual but today she’d selected a white sweatshirt, gray yoga pants, and a spotless pair of Nikes. “I teach my students to dress aspirationally, as if they’ve already achieved the goal they’re striving toward. But you said we’re meeting Jude and Jeremiah at Mount Battie, then hiking to an eclipse viewing spot. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“So I’m dressing aspirationally as someone who’s already achieved the goal of completing a hike.”
“I see.” He glanced down at himself. “Is my clothing on point?” He had on track pants, a long-sleeved navy T-shirt with the NASA logo on it, and a ball cap.
“You’re already aware that everything looks great on you. It would’ve done wonders for your character had you been born half as attractive as you are.”
“But then I’d only be one-tenth as attractive as you.” His hands framed her jaw as he gave her a light kiss. “And that would have made it even harder to convince you to be with me.”
Her senses heightened with pleasure when she was close to him. That effect could tempt her to forget the larger universe.
He kissed a spot below her ear.
“They’re expecting us soon, right?” she asked unsteadily.
“Hmm?” He was clearly playing dumb, trailing kisses toward her shoulder.
“Jude and Jeremiah and their girlfriends. They’re expecting us soon.”
“It can wait.”
“A celestial event that won’t happen in Maine again for fifty-four years cannot and will not wait.”
“Spoilsport.” He winked at her.
They climbed into his Porsche and zoomed north out of town.
Excitement over the eclipse had been building collectively across Maine for weeks. It was the subject of news stories on TV, radio DJ conversations, social media posts. It wasn’t uncommon lately when checking out at a store or waiting in line for a stranger to ask, “Are you looking forward to the eclipse?”
Kindness was the foundation of her etiquette classes, and it had been heartening to watch the eclipse prompt the exchange of so much kindness between acquaintances and outsiders alike.
She’d seen lots of partial solar eclipses in her life. Almost always through that pinhole paper-camera thing. She’d found them underwhelming. But this time her expectations were high. It had been hard to concentrate on work this morning because thoughts of the eclipse kept distracting her. Would clouds block the eclipse from view? Would their spot be ideal? Should she bring sunblock? Were the eclipse glasses that Max had purchased actually protective enough not to burn her eyes?
They slowed as they reached their destination’s parking lot. “There they are.” Max motioned his chin toward two men and two women standing beside a shiny BMW.
Max parked and they approached the others.
Jeremiah had been in his early twenties when Sloane had first been introduced to him, yet at that young age he’d already become a famous F1 driver. Which had left her starstruck.
Jude she knew much better than Jeremiah, and she’d always thought the world of him. He was humble and intelligent, the unicorn type of man who was dazzling in appearance and also genuinely cared about other people above himself.
Back in the day, the Camdens had aroused in Sloane a sense of protectiveness toward Max. That same protectiveness bubbled up in her now. It had never been a stretch for her to imagine how brutal it must have been for Max to learn that his father was from an American dynasty, was one of the wealthiest men in the state, yet had chosen not to acknowledge the biological link between himself and Max. Though he had openly acknowledged his two legitimate sons. Jude and Jeremiah had been given every advantage. Max, far fewer. To their credit, Jude and Jeremiah had used their advantages to make a positive impact.
Jude reached Sloane first. “It’s great to see you again.” They exchanged a hug.
“You too,” she said, meaning it. Jude was so fair-minded that he’d kept in touch with her after she’d split from Max and Libri. He was Max’s best male friend and so during the years when she’d been Jude’s equivalent—Max’s best female friend—there’d been an unspoken connection between herself and Jude.
“Thank you for giving Max a second chance,” Jude told her now that Max was greeting the others several steps away, out of earshot. “He’s always been head over heels about you. He just didn’t know how to show it.”
“He’s definitely been finding ways to show it lately.”
“He was getting so jaded that I was worried. I’ve been waiting a long time for someone to show him that he still has a heart. I couldn’t be happier that the someone is you.”
“I couldn’t be happier that you’re both his friend and his family.”
Jude escorted her to the others. “You remember Jeremiah?”
“I do.”
“Nobody ever forgets me, brother.”
“Don’t mind him,” the blonde said to Sloane. “He’s delusional.”
Jeremiah gave Sloane a friendly hug.
It was as if these three sons of Felix Camden had been sprinkled with fairy dust. There truly was something extraordinary about them.
“Sloane,” Max said, “may I please introduce Remy Reed and Gemma Clare.” Max had phrased that introduction flawlessly, honoring Sloane by mentioning her name first.
Sloane shook hands with the blonde, Jeremiah’s pretty fiancée, Remy. Then shook hands with Jude’s curvy redheaded girlfriend, Gemma.
“We’re going to need to be on our A game,” Jeremiah said. “Sloane is an etiquette expert with a company dedicated to teaching people about manners.”
“Yes, but it would be very bad etiquette of me to judge anyone else negatively for their etiquette.” Sloane smiled. “So you can all relax.”
The guys each strapped two lawn chairs onto their backs. Sloane, Remy, and Gemma distributed the food and drinks among their backpacks, and they set off.
“Max told me that you have a perfume shop and create your own fragrances,” Sloane said to Gemma. “That’s fascinating.”
“My shop is in my hometown of Bayview. Next time you’re over that way, please stop in and bring your niece. We’ll find a perfume for each of you. It’ll be my gift to you guys.”
“I’d love that and so would Ivy.”
“Just steer clear of the perfume of hers called Hope and Spice,” Jude warned.
“Why’s that?” Sloane asked.
“Jude thinks that one is a love potion,” Gemma explained. “He’s not the only person who’s made that claim. But if Hope and Spice turns out to be the fragrance that’s meant for you, Sloane, then so be it. The men of the world will have to deal with the consequences.”
“If Sloane starts wearing a love potion,” Max said, “my heart ventricles will explode.”
“Remy is also a creative,” Jude told Sloane.
“She’s a brilliant sculpture artist,” Jeremiah added.
“The part about me being a sculpture artist? That part, at least, is true.” Remy had on loose overalls with a waffle-knit shirt beneath.
“We’ll invite you and Max to Appleton soon,” Jeremiah said. “I’ll show you the wood sculpture Remy gave me for Christmas. Second to my ego, it’s my most prized possession.”
Their conversation, spread evenly between all six, kept Sloane highly entertained during the forty-five-minute walk. It was a treat to see Jude with Gemma and Jeremiah with Remy. They were similar to the men she’d known years ago. Yet different because of their relationships. More mature and at ease.
They arrived at the viewing spot, a lovely meadow that sloped downhill, dotted with just a few other people who’d hiked here for the eclipse. The expansive view was ideal, providing miles of visibility.
The partial eclipse would begin in about thirty minutes. It would then take more than an hour for the moon to move completely in front of the sun. When that happened, for three minutes, they’d experience a total solar eclipse.
Each couple had agreed to bring a themed food board to this gathering. It didn’t take long to set up chairs and begin assembling food on the boards.
“Jeremiah and I volunteered to do an appetizer board,” Remy said, “because he always keeps his refrigerator stocked with the yummiest appetizers.”
“She fell for me because of my appetizers.”
“Don’t be silly,” Remy returned. “I fell for you because of your boat.”
“For our meat board,” Gemma said, “Jude barbecued four different kinds of sausage this morning. They all have this phenomenal, smoky flavor. I sampled them liberally, so I know of what I speak.”
“For our dessert board,” Max said, “we brought enough tiny, rectangular cakes to feed twenty people.”
“Ah! Petit fours,” Gemma said with enthusiasm when she saw the cakes.
“What are petit fours?” Jeremiah asked.
“They’re the height of elegance,” Gemma answered. “That’s what.”
It was a luxury, a thrill, to be part of this group with Max. For one thing, he looked adorable in his NASA shirt. For another, she could feel his magnetism tugging at her no matter where she looked or with whom she spoke. More than once, she caught him watching her from beneath the brim of his ball cap.
Sloane was overtaken by gratitude. She wouldn’t want to view this eclipse anywhere but here. With him .
Fiona had journeyed to her brother Jack’s seaside cottage to view the eclipse with her family.
Never could she remember enjoying a family event less.
So far, she’d spent her time at Jack’s waiting with anxious misery to see if, by some miracle, Isobel would join them. Twenty minutes ago, the moon had started its slow journey over the sun. Isobel still hadn’t shown. Which almost certainly meant she wasn’t coming. Which almost certainly meant that this eclipse was going to become a giant disappointment for Fiona, in stark contrast to her first total eclipse of the sun at the age of eight.
Her parents had also invited Isobel to join them here today, so Fiona knew for sure that her invitation hadn’t been the only one Isobel had received. After the recent letter and photo she’d sent to Isobel had failed to generate a response, she’d toyed with the idea of sending another letter or attempting a phone call. In the end, she hadn’t taken further action. She’d felt the time had come to, one, accept that she’d done all that was reasonable to do. And, two, surrender the outcome to God.
Except for Isobel, everyone in Fiona’s family who’d traveled to Suriname for that other eclipse was reassembled in Jack’s backyard. Mom and Dad, their amateur astronomer. Jack, Elizabeth, Margaret, Alice, Mike. In addition to that original group, a few of the wives and husbands who could get away from work on this weekday were present. As were Wendell and Marisol, who’d become fast friends of her parents following the Fantasy Football picnic.
Missing were Fiona’s sons. If they couldn’t be here with her, then second best was knowing that they were, at least, together. Jeremiah and Jude would live through a total eclipse side by side today—history repeating what she and Isobel had experienced side by side so long ago.
Her boys were close. She liked to congratulate herself for raising them to be that way. In truth, though, Jude deserved a lot of the credit. He’d been their glue, caring for them all, supporting her and Jeremiah when they’d gone through difficult seasons.
Fiona carried her plastic tumbler to the food and drink table for a refill of blueberry iced tea. On one side of her, the Atlantic sparkled. On the other side of her, stood Jack’s house. That was the direction from which Isobel would appear. Or would not appear, as the case may be.
No sign yet of her willowy older sister.
“Have you tried these pigs in a blanket that Alice brought?” her father asked Fiona. “They’re excellent.”
“No, I don’t tend to consume tiny, mass-produced hot dogs surrounded by fattening bread dough.”
“Then now’s the time to start!” Dad handed her one on a toothpick.
She took it because she was susceptible to calories when battling a low mood. Her pig in a blanket tasted rich, crispy, and meaty. A straight shot of comfort right to her stomach.
“Why are these paper plates so small?” Dad lamented. “How am I supposed to eat a meal on something the size of a saucer?”
“I suspect the small plates are Jack’s attempt to slow down everyone’s intake. The O’Sullivans can mow through food faster than a Biblical plague.”
“I’m starving,” he announced balefully.
Mom drifted over with a concerned frown. “Your father hasn’t eaten in days.”
“I’m positive that he ate breakfast a few hours ago. Didn’t you, Dad?”
“I did. I had pancakes but I’ve burned through those already.”
“He’s been losing weight since we divorced,” Mom said to Fiona.
“Mom, you two are not divorced and he’s actually been gaining weight the last ten years. He’s getting plenty of food.” She peeked at the house. No sign of Isobel.
“Fiona,” Elizabeth said from the other side of the table, “I was just telling Alice that the dream she had the other night of herself naked at her office signifies that she might feel like a fraud at her job.”
“Huh,” Fiona said without enthusiasm, having been subjected to Elizabeth’s frequent dream interpretations for years.
“I think she’s right,” Alice admitted. “I try so hard to please everyone there. I think I’ve got a bad case of imposter syndrome.”
“Speaking of work,” Mike, the baby of their family, piped up. “I have a promising lead for a new job. I’m thinking about becoming a beekeeper.”
Lord , Fiona prayed, please never let anything go awry with Mike’s marriage or his wife’s teaching job . If either of those two things fell through, Fiona was quite sure she’d end up supporting her youngest sibling.
She slipped on her eclipse glasses to check the sky. She could see absolutely nothing through the glasses except the sun. The dark moon had moved farther in front since the last time she’d checked, turning the sun into a Pac-Man shape.
The sight was interesting but not so interesting that Fiona desired to keep the glasses on, watching, for the full amount of time leading up to totality. Sitting a short ways away, it appeared that Wendell and Marisol, however, were doing just that.
Fiona crossed to them.
Wendell’s patterned sweater featured a smiling moon surrounded by plump, yellow stars. He and Marisol were holding hands and seated in the type of collapsible outdoor armchairs that always reminded Fiona of attending her sons’ preschool soccer games. The older couple couldn’t see her thanks to their squarish eclipse glasses, which made them look a little like background dancers in a 1980s music video. But Fiona could see them well enough to note that they’d liberally slathered on sunblock. It was still partially opaque white over their faces.
“May I get you something to eat or drink?” Fiona asked loudly.
They reacted right away, sliding down their glasses, then blinking in the sunlight comically like moles.
“No, thank you, Fiona,” Wendell said.
“We’re doing great,” Marisol assured her.
“I’m as content right now as any person can ever be,” Wendell proclaimed.
“You look lovely today,” Marisol said to her admiringly.
“Thank you.” Fiona had dressed with exceptional care in an outfit that hit just the right note of eclipse chic. Wide-leg pants, white collared shirt open at the throat, statement necklaces, and two precious spritzes of Rhapsodie perfume.
“Is that handsome Burke here with you today?” Marisol asked.
“No, not today.”
“That’s a shame. He’s such a wonderful man.”
Fiona’s heart contracted painfully. “Yes, he is wonderful.”
Her gossipy sister Margaret sidled up. “Did something happen between you and Burke? He hasn’t come to your house for football games so far this season.”
“He’s watching the eclipse with his children and grandchildren.” It wasn’t technically a lie because she was positive that Burke was watching with his children and grandchildren.
“Isn’t God good,” Wendell asked, “to let Marisol and me see a total eclipse together here in our very own part of Maine? You know the path of totality is only about one hundred miles wide? How phenomenal that the hundred-mile stretch would cover Groomsport.”
“Yes.” Marisol never missed a chance to insert additional positivity. “And the design of the sun and moon! The moon is four hundred times smaller but will look to us as if it’s covering the entire sun because the sun is four hundred times farther away. Imagine.”
“I’ve seen a few other celestial shows in my time,” Wendell said. “The Northern lights. Falling stars. Halley’s Comet when it came by last in 1986. Do you ladies remember that?”
“Oh, I do,” Marisol confirmed.
Margaret and Fiona nodded. Fiona had been at her own personal zenith in ’86, loving that decade, loving her youth. She would not be seeing Halley’s Comet on its next trip near earth.
“I’ve seen harvest moons and blood moons and, a few times, planets through telescopes,” Marisol added. “But I saved a total solar eclipse for you, Wendell, my dear. This is a first.”
“I also saved a total solar eclipse for you, Marisol.”
Marisol went googly-eyed. “How romantic.”
Wendell sealed that with a kiss.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” Fiona said.
The air was losing its brightness, the ocean turning a dreamy silvery color. Jack’s Labrador looked around at the party goers uncomfortably, as if to say, Are you guys noticing that something is very wrong with the world?
Out of the corner of her eye, Fiona noted the outdoor lights flicking on in response to the sensors that detected dusk. She swung her chin in that direction just as a female figure rounded the side of the house.
Fiona gasped, then brought her hands up to cover her mouth.
Her long-lost sister Isobel was here.
Shocking. Mind-boggling. True.
Isobel’s appearance could only be attributed to grace because Fiona did not deserve it. She had asked for something—her sister’s presence—that she could never earn through good works or apologies.
Grace. It was the most beautiful thing.
The others had clearly spotted Isobel because a hush swept over the group (except for Wendell and Marisol, who were oblivious to the magnitude of the moment). For the past three and a half decades, the O’Sullivan family had never had Fiona and Isobel in the same place at the same time.
Isobel, full of poise, came forward with excellent posture and a small smile. She was still taller and thinner and prettier than Fiona. Yet, unlike when Fiona had been young, that observation didn’t sting. In fact, it brought with it a some things never change type of nostalgia.
En masse, the family released delighted exclamations. Everyone talked at once and hurried toward Isobel.
Fiona followed at a slower pace, hovering on the outskirts, understanding that she didn’t have the right to crowd in when the rest of them had remained in contact with Isobel and she had not. When the others finished greeting Isobel, the family parted down the middle, so the two estranged sisters were facing each other.
Fiona had no way of hiding the tears that filled her eyes.
“Hello, Fiona,” Isobel said.
“Hello, Isobel. I’m very glad that you came.”
“I like your outfit.”
With a bolt of recognition, Fiona computed that the two of them were dressed very similarly. Clearly, Isobel also had the good taste to understand eclipse chic. “I like your outfit.”
“It’s sweet to see that you two planned to dress alike today.” Mom clasped her hands under her chin. “I used to dress you alike all the time when you were girls.”
Isobel closed the distance and resolutely reached out to take Fiona’s hand. “How about we watch the eclipse together, little sister?”
Emotion clogged Fiona’s throat to such a degree that she had a hard time getting her reply out. “I’d love that.”
The rest of the family prepared an outdoor chair for Isobel and set Fiona’s chair next to it. She and Isobel dropped hands as they sat next to each other. The rest arranged themselves in haphazard lines of chairs behind them.
As the clock ticked toward totality, she and Isobel did not dredge up painful things from the past. They did not grill one another on the big life events that had occurred in the years since their sisterhood fractured. They did not ask after each other’s immediate families.
Instead, they dedicated themselves to drinking in every increasingly amazing detail of their surroundings. They pointed things out to one another. Like a star that had appeared in the sky. How the wind had stilled. How the birds had fallen silent. How the temperature had cooled.
“One minute until totality,” Jack called.
“Frugality?” Mom asked. “That’s always been an issue for your father, but I try not to hold it against him.”
“Can I take my glasses off yet?” Wendell wanted to know.
“Not yet,” Jack answered.
Then, through her glasses, Fiona viewed the instant in time when the moon moved fully in front of the sun. It. Was. Magical.
Jack gave the go-ahead to remove glasses. Fiona and Isobel did so, gaping at one another just as they’d done when they were children.
The family cheered. Some clapped.
“It’s so dark,” Fiona said. “As though it’s forty-five minutes after sunset even though it’s two thirty in the afternoon.”
“And quiet,” Isobel said. “Like the world is holding its breath.”
“Precisely like that.”
Isobel extended her phone and positioned the two of them inside its screen. She hit record on a video. “My sister Fiona and I and the rest of our family are here experiencing a total eclipse of the sun, and it is absolutely incredible . Don’t you agree, Fiona?”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
She ended the video and the two of them marveled—splitting their attention between the sky, each other, and their surroundings. This would last such a short time. Fiona did her best to imprint these seconds on her heart because they were rare and spilling through her fingers much too fast.
“This is the most astonishing thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Wendell declared. He frequently made grandiose statements. For the first time, Fiona found his grandiose statement right on the money. God was giving them an extraordinary glimpse into His galaxy. After living a lot of life and seeing a lot of things, Fiona found this eclipse even more jaw-dropping than the first one.
Total eclipses were nothing like partial eclipses. Just like estrangement from a sister was nothing like closeness with one. This was a pinky-promise made in girlhood—fulfilled.
Jack instructed them to put their glasses back on. They did so, staring heavenward as totality ended and the day brightened significantly.
The eclipse was a representation of life. You couldn’t keep it forever. You had to make the most of it while you still had the chance. Which drove home a truth for Fiona. She had to make the most of things with Burke while she still had the chance.
“I’m hungry,” Dad said.
“Me, too,” Isobel responded. “Is there food?” she asked Fiona.
“The pigs in a blanket are delicious.”