Chapter 10 #4
“Ramsay, honey. Ned Ramsay. Well, I knew he was pursued zealously by a certain Captain Harte. So I went through the archives, looking for any dispatches that mentioned Harte and Ramsay, and do you know what I found?” He leaned forward.
“Ramsay took shelter right here on Winthrop Island in the autumn of 1716, to recover from wounds he’d received during an attack on his ship by… ?”
“Um, Captain Harte?”
“Exactly. Who was prevented by weather from returning to capture Ramsay until the spring of 1717.”
“Because of the Great Snow thing?”
He palmed the table again. “The most extreme snowfall ever experienced in New England. Storm after storm at the end of February and into March. Deer, livestock—all died. Folks were stranded. And Hephzibah Winthrop recorded it all. Day by day. The entire winter!”
“And did she mention Ramsay?”
“Well, I’m still transcribing.” He frowned. “Say, are you all right? Your hands are shaking.”
I stuck them under my legs. “Fine. Just tired. Hard swim this morning.”
From the front door came a brisk knock.
Ben, I thought. Like a reflex.
I rose from the chair. “I’ll get it.”
—
For some reason, my heart jumped around a little as I walked to the entry hall and reached for the door. I picked up and discarded a few openers—Forget something? Or—You again?
But when I opened the door, it wasn’t Ben.
“Laura! You’re up early.”
Her eyes were rimmed with red. “I didn’t sleep. I’m running on caffeine. Can I come in?”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
She walked past me into the front parlor. I chased after her.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just stuff. I’m a terrible sleeper, what can I say. You’re looking pretty wiped yourself, girl.”
“Jet lag. You should go back to bed, Laura. Seriously. You can’t just. Not sleep.”
Laura plopped on the sofa and pulled up her knees under her elbows. Her arms were so skinny, like straws. “So what do you do when you have jet lag, Luce? When you can’t sleep?”
“This morning? I went swimming. From Poseidon Beach. I wore that granny suit you hate.” I sat down next to her. “I forgot about the current, though. It carried me all the way down to Horseshoe Bay. I had to walk back.”
“That’s so scary.”
“I’m all right.”
She rolled on her side to face me. “You’re so pretty, Lucy. I don’t know why my brother isn’t in love with you.”
“Gross,” I said.
“What do you mean? You don’t like my brother?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”
“Liar.” She reached out to finger the end of my damp ponytail. “You two would be so cute together. We’d be like sisters.”
“We are like sisters.”
Laura burrowed her head into my chest. “I love you so much, Lucy. I’m sorry I’m such a terrible friend.”
“What? Are you talking about? You’re the best friend.”
She heaved a sigh into my boobs. “So I did sleep a little last night. Like it must have been four or five o’clock. And I had this awful dream. It was so fucking vivid. Like visceral. You were with Ben.”
“With Ben? Me?”
“You were on some beach together, making out. And I was standing there watching you, watching you kiss him, watching you take his shirt off, and I wanted to scream, you know? I had this scream in my throat, and it wouldn’t come out.
I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t move.
I felt—I felt tears coming out of my eyes.
Literal tears. You were driving a stake through my heart and I couldn’t do anything about it. ”
“Laura. Damn.”
“I know.” She wiped the corners of her eyes. She was so beautiful, all bones, all huge wet eyes. “Then I woke up. And it was so real, Luce! It felt so real. Like it literally happened. And I hated you. For that minute, I fucking hated you.”
“Laura, don’t.”
“I know. I know you would never do that to me. You’re such a good friend, you’re so loyal. I’m insane. Do you think I’m insane? He’s all I can think about.”
I stroked her hair. “You’re so silly. You barely know him.”
She sat up. Her eyes had this strange manic brightness in them, like when you come downstairs in the morning and realize the kitchen light has been on all night. “Did you notice at dinner? How they never mentioned Middlebury. It was all Harvard and Dartmouth and rah-rah.”
“Middlebury’s a great school, Laura. I’m sure your parents are so proud of you.”
“I was supposed to go to Dartmouth, like Sedge. Dad’s so pissed I didn’t get in. He didn’t even come to parent weekend.”
“Well, that’s shitty of him,” I said.
“Nothing I do is ever right. And Sedge just gets a free pass. Our golden boy can do no wrong. And I’m the fuckup.”
“The fuckup? Please. You’re at Middlebury.”
“I almost flunked out last semester,” she said.
“What?”
“I hate econ. I fucking hate econ. Who even wants to be a banker?”
“So don’t study economics, idiot.”
Laura hit me with the pillow. I grabbed another pillow and hit her back. We dueled with pillows until we collapsed, laughing, in a heap on the floor. I remember how Laura’s face glowed pink, how bright her eyes shone inside all that color.
“You want to know something cool about Middlebury, Lucy?” she said. “It’s only an hour and a half away from Dartmouth.”