The Loose Ends List(71)
“Yeah, but Gram claims she was afraid Dad wouldn’t see the value in her international Advent calendar collection. That can’t be the reason.”
“Actually, that was the reason. She was afraid he would ruin the North family Christmas traditions.”
“Gram is pretty obsessed with Christmas.”
“Yeah, but Rose convinced her to give Trish her blessing. You know how wishy-washy your mom is. I don’t know if she would have married Aaron without that blessing.”
“Damn. I never knew that.”
“And then it happened again with Wes. Mom—and Dad, for that matter—were not cool with the gay thing.”
“Oh, come on. Gram brags about how she loves the gays.”
“Yeah, but she loved the idea of grandchildren more, and when she realized gay meant no grandchildren, she resented the hell out of Wes.”
“No way.”
“Yes, way. I’ll never forget overhearing Aunt Rose rip Mom a new one. I had invited Wes to the Charleston house, and Mom was being rude to him. Aunt Rose told her to get over herself and welcome Wes with open arms, or she would make Astrid North O’Neill’s life a living hell.”
“I can’t imagine Aunt Rose saying that.”
“She didn’t say it, she yelled it. The next morning, Mom and Wes hugged it out. And that was that.”
“I’m going to miss her so much.” The image of Aunt Rose in the freezer creeps me out. I want to remember her warm and smiling.
“Me too, Maddie girl.”
We stop talking and run. I think about how Aunt Rose used to be—all the times she called us in for lemonade as she played her Dixieland music and how she wrote formal letters from Charleston to tell us how she couldn’t wait to see us again. I had no idea behind all that grace and kindness was a quiet matriarch.
I get into bed emotionally drained and afraid it will be another night without Enzo sex. I snuggle into him and smell his neck. He pulls me on top of him, and I’m sucked into another dimension. It’s all the senses and the breeze and the moon and his mouth. We keep going, swirling around the vortex of ecstasy and enchantment, until it finally collapses and we sleep fourteen hours straight.
TWENTY-TWO
ENZO DID NOT prepare me properly for Wishwell Island. I thought it would be a lab and a few scientists in cabins, but it is outrageous. Francesca showed us a lab complex that’s bigger than three Target stores. It’s divided into sections they call studios, named for famous places. Walden Pond, an outdoor lake in the middle of the complex, is the algae substation. The scientists here analyze millions of plants, fungi, insect secretions, leeches, and even shark cartilage.
My favorite part of the island is the shaman and faith healer village, where medicine people are recruited from tribes around the planet to share healing wisdom and hang out with priests and rabbis and imams. Outside the village, farmers grow superfoods for the people to eat. There are kids here and a small school and streets with quaint shops. The founders of the Wishwell movement wanted the people they recruited to be happy because happy people are creative people.
Mom is a nervous wreck, planning Gloria’s recipe book unveiling with a feast for the patients, staff, and crew. Uncle Billy and Wes are up in the orchard right now, selecting fruits for the cobbler. I hope they don’t make the Chicken Cordon Bleu.
Camilla figured out that Jeb’s a douchebag, so he’ll be our fifth wheel late tonight when Enzo takes us to Wishwell Island’s bioluminescent lagoons. It’s Jeb’s own fault for screwing things up with Camilla, who is apparently getting her PhD in bioethics, whatever that is. Jeb has no ethics.
“Hey.” Enzo smiles. I’ve been watching him sleep.
“Good morning.” I slide over and lay my head on his chest. It feels unsettling to be docked and bobbing when we’re used to moving with the sea.
“You have that look on your face,” he says. His morning stubble is adorable.
“What look?”
“The same look you had last night when you were running around the island. Like a girl who’s seen a fairy.”
“I just can’t believe a place like this exists.”
“When we first got here, I was sure this place was magic and it would swallow up my father and spit him back whole. But it didn’t quite work that way. They said the same things the doctors back home said: ‘We’re sorry, folks. He’s riddled beyond repair.’”
“You know how Gram says we need to take the pain and grow beauty? That’s what they’re doing here.” I’m quoting Gram a lot these days.
“That’s exactly what funds this place. All those heartbroken people give money with the hope that other people won’t go through what their loved ones have been through,” Enzo says. He stops talking, and I hear his heartbeat. He leans down and tries to kiss me. I push him away.
“How do you not wake up with morning breath?”
“Caveman no care about breath.”
“I need to get up. I’m helping Gram write Aunt Rose’s obituary. She doesn’t think anybody else will do justice to her memory.”
“I bet those two were wild in the good old days.”
“You know, I’m very close with my gram. We eat together, shop together, talk about travel and sex and movies. And yet I’ll never really know what she was like seventy years ago. It’s kind of bizarre.”