The Identicals(95)

Harper nods. They have entered the garden, and they automatically fall quiet. It’s the blessing of Mytoi—the possibility of silence, of stillness, of contemplation. They cross the footbridge. Harper gazes down at the koi swimming, then she and Edie sit down side by side on the red bench. Harper’s pain will never be greater than it is right now. She had never imagined coming to Mytoi without Brendan. The place and the man and their relationship were three strands, braided together. She knows she should feel grateful. After all, what if she had never found him? His friendship was such a gift. He appeared to her when everyone else on the island had forsaken her; when she felt wicked and cheap, he arrived to make her feel valued and worthwhile.

Suddenly the tears fall. She is crying, and there is no stopping her; she wishes she had the stiff upper lip of Edie and Eleanor’s generation, but oh, well. Possibly Edie isn’t too reserved to cry—simply too sad, her grief so deep and embedded that it won’t break loose.

Edie pulls a handkerchief out of the pocket of her pants and hands it to Harper, who accepts it gratefully and blows her nose.

“I’m pregnant,” Harper says.

Edie, who is already sitting ramrod straight, seems to grow an inch. “Is the child… Brendan’s?”

“No,” Harper says. “It’s not. Brendan and I never…”

“Oh,” Edie says. “I wasn’t sure.”

“I wish it were his,” Harper says, then realizes this is the utter truth. But of course the baby is Reed’s, conceived that fateful night at Lucy Vincent, when Reed recklessly made love to her without protection. “More than anything, I wish it were.”



Edie stands on the porch and waves as Harper backs out of the driveway.

“Was it as bad as you thought?” Ainsley asks, once they are back on Chappy Road, headed for the ferry.

“No,” Harper says.



Walking back from Mytoi, Edie had said, “If you need a place to stay, before or after the baby is born… I don’t want to assume anything… but if you need a place, the cottage, Brendan’s cottage, is yours free of charge for as long as you want it.”

“Edie, thank you,” Harper said. Tears had threatened again—tears of fear and confusion, because Harper wasn’t at all sure what her future held. Would she be with Reed or go it alone? Would she be able to find a job? Or would she have to rely on the eventual proceeds from the sale of Billy’s house? She tries to picture living on Chappy through the fall and winter. Would that be the worst thing? “I’m not sure what my plans include, but that offer means a lot. And who knows? I might take you up on it.”

“I hope you do,” Edie said. She had squeezed Harper’s arm. “Imagine. A baby.”



Harper drives to Tisbury, to her duplex, which is stuffy and hot. Harper runs around, opening windows, apologizing to Ainsley. Compared to the carriage house, her duplex is as underwhelming and anonymous as a suite at the Residence Inn.

“It’s fine,” Ainsley says. “I really just want to walk around, shop a little, see Vineyard Haven. Can I walk to town from here?”

“You can,” Harper says. “But it’s far. I’ll drop you off, then you can call me when you’re ready to come home. How does that sound?”

“Great,” Ainsley says. “Thank you.”

Harper lets Ainsley out at Five Corners. One thing she has not missed is the traffic. It’s insane, worse than Harper remembers—and it’s not even August! While she’s sitting in an endless line of cars waiting to turn, Fish asleep across the backseat, Harper eyes the road that will take her past Billy’s house. Should she do a drive-by? See what the place looks like and figure out exactly whom Tabitha found to do the work? Harper is freshly incredulous that Tabitha made such an enormous unilateral decision. Harper needs money, and she needs it soon! She has a baby on the way!

But Tabitha, of course, doesn’t know that.

Harper fights the urge to drive past Billy’s. In her fragile emotional state, she wants to avoid an in-person confrontation—because that is, undoubtedly, what it will become. This trip had one purpose; that purpose has been served. Harper will pick Ainsley up at seven thirty, take her to the Red Cat for dinner, and afterward go home to bed. Then maybe—maybe—in the morning, Harper will swing by Morning Glory Farm for a couple of muffins, just so Ainsley can experience one. Then back to Nantucket on the noon boat.

Harper pulls up in front of the duplex. There is nothing to do inside. Coming back to the Vineyard like this was a mistake: temptation is everywhere. Harper thinks about trying to find Drew so she can apologize. Will he appreciate that or find it patronizing?

And then there’s Reed. Reed. Reed. Reed. Reed. Harper visualizes herself driving past the hospital, past his house, past Sadie’s pie shop. She can drive out to Aquinnah on State Road and come back on South Road in the hope that maybe he’s riding his bike. Does he have a favorite beach? Lobsterville? Great Rock Bight? Harper has never asked him. He’s a doctor—maybe he doesn’t go to the beach.

She will drive past Billy’s house, she decides. It’s the safest thing she can do.



She loops in the back way, hoping and praying that Tabitha is out so she can sneak in and get a better look. As she approaches, she sees a green truck pulling out of the backyard. It’s Tad, the Irish carpenter. Harper knows him from around. He used to date one of the other landscapers who worked for Jude, a girl named Cory, but Harper is pretty sure they broke up. She has seen Tad out at the Ritz and the Trampost but always alone. Is he working on the house? How did Tabitha find him? Tad is friends with Franklin Phelps, but maybe that connection didn’t come up or didn’t matter. Maybe in the weeks since Harper has been away, everyone has forgotten about Harper and Reed Zimmer; maybe it wasn’t that big a deal to begin with. Now that Harper has been away, it seems possible. After all, summer is in full swing. There are ninety thousand people on this island—ninety thousand!—and surely there are more exciting things to talk about.