Left Drowning(91)

“Don’t tell anyone. It’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t tell.”

“And another thing. I’m glad you didn’t get married. Even though part of me understood, I am mad at you, and I think you’re a dick, but I’m still glad that there was no wedding. But I’m sorry if you’re upset and if today was supposed to be a good thing for you.”

“I’m relieved.”

“If I weren’t so boozed to the nines, I’d think of something smarter to say.” I inhale deeply. “I missed you. I should be embarrassed to tell you that, but I don’t care. I missed you so much, Chris.”

“I missed you, too, Blythe. Get some sleep.”

I touch my fingers to the necklace of silver letters that rests against the top of my chest. “This is all sorts of f*cked up.”

“I know, baby. I know. But the best kind of f*cked up.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


From Any Distance


“What do you mean there isn’t a Starbucks in Ellsworth?” I feel like I might cry. I have a headache, and I am completely weirded out that we’re arriving by caravan into Bar Harbor. I rub my eyes and yawn.

Ellsworth is the last substantial town before Mt. Desert Island, where Bar Harbor reigns as one of Maine’s most coveted vacation spots. The town has plenty of shops with everything we might need, but the prices are outrageous. That’s why we stop and load up on groceries and general house supplies in Ellsworth. I’m sure we look like a weird motley crew with everyone except James and I in formal wear.

As we drive out of Ellsworth with the shopping done, I realize that I’m a little nervous about what state the house is going to be in. Last week, I’d ordered sheets, towels, pots and pans, general kitchen supplies, and all that boring but essential stuff, and had them shipped to the house. The caretaker was kind enough to make sure everything arrived. As for actual furnishings, they came with the house, and I just hope that nothing is moth-infested and gross.

“If I don’t get a coffee soon, there is a good chance that I’ll die.”

“They had coffee brewed at the market,” James points out.

“Not that shit! Real coffee.” I am battling a hangover. Or I may still be tipsy.

Sabin reaches back and pats my knee. “A coffee you will have.”

“A strong one, right?”

“The strongest. I got you a bag of Colombian roast at the store, and Chris found a French press at the other place. According to the map, we’ll be at the house in twenty-five minutes. Chris? You’re in charge of coffee distribution when we get there.”

“Absolutely.”

“I think we’re going to have to make a second trip back to Ellsworth later today or tomorrow,” I say, feeling my nerves go on even higher alert. There is so much to do. “The house is probably a dump after all this time.”

“Hey, B., relax. We’re here to help.” I have missed how Sabin takes care of me. “You have nothing to worry about. It’s a big deal to go to this house. We get that. For real. And we’re honored that you let us crash the party. We’ll make as many car trips back and forth as you want until you have everything that you need for the house.”

“Of course we will,” Chris adds. “Anything you guys need.”

I feel better. It is a big deal to see the house again. “James? You all right?”

“I am. I want to be here. And we’ve got backup now.” He high-fives Sabin. I like how these two have buddied up.

I agree. We have the best backup possible.

I bounce my foot nonstop as we get closer, and Jonah pants out the window while I stroke his fur obsessively. Ellsworth’s chain stores have disappeared, and greenery takes over as we climb a hill. As Sabin relays directions to James, I am surprised to feel a smile overtake me. From the road that leads to the house—our house—I catch glimpses of the dark blue ocean through the trees. We are close. I don’t know if I’m remembering or if I just feel it. James takes us down a hill, closer to the water, then takes a sharp right, and we go down a long driveway that lands us by a substantial lawn. I look to the right at our house.

It’s beat up. It needs a serious paint job. White chips are practically flaking off in the wind. The lawn has been mowed, but the overgrowth around the back of the house is going to be a big project. The deck off the front needs major work.

To me, however, the house is spectacularly beautiful.

I let Jonah out and follow as he leads the way. I am in a daze, and it’s not from the leftover alcohol that is surely still running through my system.

I remember. I run ahead a bit. Leafy tree branches hang over the land in front of the house, but I know that to the left is a wooden staircase that leads to another grassy area, and past that is the rocky bit of shore that is ours. Chris catches up to me.

“You okay?”

I nod. The concern in his voice is unnecessary. “I remember this, Chris. I haven’t until now. The days before and after the fire? I told you I don’t remember them. All this? The house? It was blank. We’d been up here just a few days before … But I’m starting to remember this house at least. Wait. The living room. It has cathedral ceilings and a fireplace with a stone hearth. Tons of big windows. And there is a staircase there to the second floor.” My memories are spilling out. “Next to it is the dining room with sliding glass doors to a porch. The kitchen is huge. I mean, huge. Like maybe this place used to be a … a bed and breakfast or something. My mother said … She said something about having friends up to visit when we were here. How we could have as many people as we wanted with all the room. Upstairs is a long hallway lined with bedrooms. I don’t know how many. I can’t remember that. And down by the water? A long skinny dock that leads to a square platform dock. It had a small boat tied to it. A kayak … ” I shake my head. “No, no, a canoe, maybe. I’m not sure.”