She's Up to No Good(68)

“Go back to bed, Evelyn,” Miriam said from the darkness of the living room.

Evelyn froze.

“Now.”

Instead, Evelyn walked down the remaining steps. In the moonlight that came through the living room window, she saw her mother on the sofa, which she had made up into a makeshift bed, knowing what Evelyn was going to do before she did.

And Evelyn understood that the battle she needed to win was in front of her, not snoring loudly in the downstairs bedroom.

Steeling herself, she went in and knelt on the floor at her mother’s side. “Mama, you have to listen to me.”

Miriam said nothing, so Evelyn continued.

“I didn’t fall in love with him on purpose. But it’s done now. And he’s good, Mama. He’s a good man. So much better than me. The first time I saw him, he was dragging his brother, who had stolen something, into Papa’s store to make him return it and to pay. That’s who he is. He does the right thing every time. You can’t hate someone who does the right thing. And he makes me do the right thing. He makes me want to be good like him. Isn’t that what you always want me to be?”

Miriam still didn’t reply.

“Mama, I know it’s not what you wanted, and I know it’s not how you were raised, but it’s different now. The old ways—they don’t matter as much anymore.” Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, and, seeing Miriam’s posture stiffen, she changed tactics. “Besides, our children would be Jewish because I am. Isn’t that the most important thing, anyway? Who cares if he doesn’t come to temple a couple of times a year?”

Evelyn took her mother’s hand. “Mama, please.”

Something in Miriam’s face changed. For a moment, she wasn’t Evelyn’s fifty-seven-year-old mother. Her eyes were fixed on a spot behind her daughter as her face softened at a memory before contorting in an unspoken grief. Miriam rose and walked to the window; Evelyn felt her hopes rise. She was considering it!

But when she turned back to face her daughter, she was shaking her head. “No. And if you leave this house to go to him, you’d better be sure he’ll have you. Because you will be dead to this family.” She took her pillow and blanket from the sofa and went to the bedroom at the back of the house.

Evelyn slumped to the floor and wept.





CHAPTER FORTY





Joe and I got pizza from the café next to the Inn and ate it at a table outside, shaded by a red-and-white-striped umbrella. I put a hand giddily to my cheek. “I still can’t believe I did that.”

“Next time, if you’re brave enough to jump alone, I’ll get pictures.”

Something tingled along my spine at the idea that he treated the fact that there would be a next time as a certainty. “I may need a little more hand-holding first.” He held out his hand across the table, and I started to laugh. “Not to eat pizza!”

He withdrew his hand but was smiling. “The offer stands.”

My phone vibrated on the table, and Joe’s did a moment later. I looked down. A text from my grandmother. WAU. “She does not know how to text,” I muttered.

Joe held his phone up to me, displaying the same message. “Does this mean anything to you?”

I said it didn’t, pressing the button to call her and holding the phone to my ear. “You should be back by now,” was her greeting. “If you’re stuck on that island, I swear to God—”

“Grandma, we’re having lunch. At the café. By the Inn.”

“Good. You need to be ready by four.”

“I know.” I hesitated. “What did your text mean?”

“What text?”

“The one you sent to me and Joe. WAU?”

“Where are you?”

“I told you. We’re at the pizza place.” Her memory really wasn’t what it once was.

“Yes, you said that.”

“But what did the text mean?”

“It meant ‘Where are you?’”

I put a hand on top of my head. “You can’t just make up random acronyms and expect people to understand them.”

“You do it.”

“I use the ones everyone knows.”

“Everyone knows that one. You ask Joe. He knows it.”

“I—okay. I’ll be home soon to shower.”

“Tell Joe he’s a good boy for not getting stuck, unlike your mothers.”

I hung up and turned to Joe. “You’re a good boy for not getting us stuck like our mothers. And the text meant ‘Where are you?’”

He nodded. “Everyone knows that one.” I smacked his arm with the back of my hand.

“I swear, if you act like you knew that to her . . .”

“You two should have a TV show. You could make millions.”

“I’d tear my hair out in the process.”

“You could afford a wig.”

“I’d lose it diving off the island.”

“True. I like your real hair better anyway.” He reached out and touched the end of my ponytail, still damp from the ocean.

“I should get back.” I stood up too quickly, bumping my thighs against the table. He rose too, and I hated myself for being so awkward. He clearly liked me. I definitely liked him. Why couldn’t I do this? “We’re still going whale hunting tomorrow?”