Annie wasn’t sure if Jaycie could hear that Livia was safe, but she was afraid to call out for fear of sending Livia spiraling backward. “Hey, goofball,” she said.
Livia finally lifted her head.
What had driven a child who was afraid of the dark to come in here? Only something deeply traumatic. Yet when Annie had found her on the beach, Livia had been more petulant than traumatized. Something had to have happened after that, but other than Theo appearing—
Right then Annie understood.
Even though her teeth were chattering, and the ledge was too shallow for any kind of comfort, she hoisted herself up. Wedging in as best she could, she wrapped her arm around the child. Livia smelled of musty ocean, little girl sweat, and shampoo. “Did you know that Scamp is mad at me?” Annie asked.
Livia shook her head.
Annie waited, ignoring the blade of rock digging into her shoulder, holding Livia close, but not explaining.
Finally, Livia’s jaw moved against Annie’s arm. “What’d you do?”
That voice! That dear little voice. “Scamp said you came in here because you heard Theo and me arguing. That’s why she’s mad at me. Because we argued in front of you, and arguments between grown-ups scare you.”
A barely imperceptible nod against her shoulder.
“It’s because of the bad way your dad used to hurt your mommy and because of how your dad died.” Annie made the pronouncement as matter-of-factly as she could.
“It scared me.” A heartbreaking sniffle.
“Sure it did. It would have scared me, too. Scamp told me I should have explained to you that just because grown-ups argue doesn’t always mean something bad will happen. Like when Theo and I argue. We like to argue. But we’d never hurt each other.”
Livia cocked her head at Annie, taking that in.
Annie could have lifted her down and waded out with her, but she hesitated. What else could she say to undo the damage? She traced her thumb along Livia’s cheek. “Sometimes people argue. Kids and grown-ups. For instance, your mommy and I had an argument today. It was my fault, and I’m going to tell her I’m sorry.”
“You and Mommy?” Livia said.
“I was confused about something. But here’s the thing, Livia. If you get scared every time you hear somebody argue, you’ll be scared a lot, and none of us want you to feel like that.”
“But Theo’s voice was really loud.”
“Mine, too. I was very mad at him.”
“You could shoot him with a gun,” Livia said, trying to sort out a situation that was too complicated for her.
“Oh, no, I would never do that.” Annie tried to find another way. Hesitated. “Can I have a free secret?”
“Uh-huh.”
Annie rested her cheek against the top of Livia’s head. “I love Theo,” she whispered. “And I could never love anybody who tried to hurt me. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get mad at him.”
“You love Theo?”
“It’s my free secret, remember?”
“I remember.” The sweet sound of her breathing hummed in Annie’s ears. She wiggled. “Can I have a free secret?”
“Sure.” Annie braced herself, afraid of what was coming next.
Livia turned her head to gaze up at Annie. “I didn’t like Scamp’s song.”
Annie laughed and kissed her forehead. “We won’t tell her.”
THE JOYOUS REUNION BETWEEN MOTHER and child would have brought Annie to tears if she hadn’t been so cold. Theo drew her into a weak patch of sunlight and examined her wounds. She stood before him dressed only in her orange camisole and white panties, her wet wool socks collapsed in origami folds around her ankles. After she’d pushed Livia through the crevice into Theo’s arms, she’d discovered that her sodden jeans had picked up just enough extra bulk to keep her from squeezing through, and she’d had to take them off.
Theo checked the long scratch running down her abdomen, joining her other cuts and bruises. His right hand curved around her buttocks to keep her from pulling away, not that she wanted to. “You’re all cut up.” He pulled off his parka and wrapped her in it. “I swear to God I’m ten years older than I was when you went in there.” He pulled her against his chest, a place Annie was more than happy to rest.
Jaycie’s gratitude had made her forget her anger at Annie, and she finally wrenched her gaze away from Livia long enough to say, “I can never thank you enough.”
Annie tried unsuccessfully to stop her teeth from chattering. “You may not want to . . . after you hear why Livia . . . went in the cave.” She reluctantly drew away from the comfort of Theo’s chest and moved a few steps closer to Jaycie and Livia, but he came up behind her.
“You can talk to Jaycie later,” he said. “Right now, you need to get warmed up.”
“I will in a minute.” Jaycie was sitting in the shelter of a boulder with Livia curled in her lap, Annie’s coat draping them both. Annie looked at Livia. “Liv, I’m afraid I’ll say it wrong, so you’d better explain to your mom.”
Jaycie hadn’t overheard her daughter speak, and she was visibly confused. Livia turned her face into her mother’s chest.
“It’s okay,” Annie said. “You can tell her.” But would she? Now that they’d left the cave behind, had Livia lost her need to speak? Annie drew the parka tighter around her and waited, hoped, prayed . . .
The words that finally emerged were muffled, spoken against her mother’s breast. “I was scared.”
Jaycie gasped. Cupping her daughter’s cheeks, she turned her small face up and gazed into her eyes with wonder. “Liv . . .”
“ ’Cause Annie and Theo was fighting,” Livia said. “It made me scared.”
Theo’s curse was no less heartfelt for being whispered.
“Oh, my God . . .” Jaycie pulled Livia to her again in a fierce embrace.
The tears of joy that filled Jaycie’s eyes made Annie suspect she hadn’t taken in the content of Livia’s words, only the miracle of her daughter’s voice. Now, while emotions were high, was the time to rip off the bandage of secrecy that Jaycie had plastered over the past and open the scab that had grown there.
Annie drew courage from the way Theo’s body settled protectively against her spine. “You might not know this, Jaycie, but hearing grown-ups argue reminds Livia of what happened with you and her father.”
Jaycie’s joy dissolved. Her mouth twisted in pain, but Annie pressed on. “When she heard Theo and me arguing, she was afraid I might try to shoot him, so she went in the cave to hide.”
Theo spoke vehemently. “Livia, Annie would never do that.”
Jaycie slipped one hand over her daughter’s ear, symbolically sealing it off. The tightness around her mouth testified that the gratitude she’d been feeling toward Annie was fading. “We don’t have to talk about that.”
“Livia needs to talk,” Annie stated gently.
“Listen to Annie,” Theo said, in a remarkable leap of faith. “She understands things.”
Livia shook her head, the gesture automatic. Theo squeezed Annie’s shoulders from behind. His encouragement meant everything. “Livia and Scamp and I have been talking about how her father scared her,” Annie said, “and how you shot him, even though you didn’t mean to.” The cold had numbed her brain to caution. “Livia might even be a little glad you shot her father—I know Scamp is glad—and Livia needs to talk to you about that, too.”
“Scamp?” Jaycie said.
“Scamp is a kid, too,” Annie said, “so she understands things about Livia that grown-ups sometimes miss.”
Jaycie was now more bewildered than angry. She searched her daughter’s face, trying to understand, not able to. Her helplessness reminded Annie that Jaycie was as deeply wounded as Livia.
With no psychotherapist handy, a failed character actress trained in her theater workshops to understand human behavior would have to do. Annie let her spine rest ever so slightly against Theo’s chest, not using him as a crutch, merely as comfo
rt. “Scamp would like to understand some things, too,” she said. “Maybe she could sit down with both of you tomorrow, and we could all talk about what happened.” Annie remembered that her “tomorrows” on Peregrine Island were numbered.
“Yes, I wanna see Scamp!” Livia displayed all the enthusiasm her mother lacked.
“A great idea,” Theo said. “Now I think it’s time for everybody to get warmed up.”
Livia had recovered more rapidly than the adults, and she climbed off her mother’s lap. “Will you show me the shells you got for my fairy house?” she asked Theo.
“Yep. But I have to take care of Annie first.” He tilted his head toward the top of the cliff. “Want a ride?”
Livia ended up on his shoulders as they climbed the cliff steps to the top.
ONCE ANNIE AND THEO WERE back at the cottage, he filled the tub that was no longer hers and left her alone. She had cuts everywhere, and she winced as she settled into the water, but by the time she got out and slipped into her robe, she was warm. Theo had changed into dry clothes himself—a pair of jeans with a rip across one knee and a long-sleeved black T-shirt he’d stopped wearing because Jaycie had shrunk it in the wash so it outlined every muscle in his chest in a way he didn’t like, but that Annie very much appreciated. He patched up her cuts, everything about his touch impersonal. In the space of a day, so much had changed. She’d lost the cottage, accused an innocent woman of trying to harm her, discovered her roots, and helped rescue a little girl. Overriding it all, she’d recognized how much she loved this man she couldn’t have.
He made grilled cheese sandwiches for them. As he dropped a big pat of butter into the hot skillet, a clock pendulum ticked away in her head marking the time she had left to be with him. “I called Elliott,” he said. “As soon as I heard that you’d been conned into leaving the island.”
She tugged the sash of her bathrobe tighter. “Let me guess. Cynthia already knew—thanks to Lisa McKinley—and they were having cocktails to celebrate.”
“Right on one count. Wrong on the other. Lisa had called, but there was no celebration.”
“Really? I’m surprised Cynthia wasn’t already drawing up plans to turn the cottage into a replica of Stonehenge.”
“I intended to make him change his mind. Threaten him. Do whatever I could to make sure you kept the cottage for as long as you wanted. But as it turned out, Elliott had made a modification none of us knew about.”
“What kind of modification?”
“The cottage doesn’t revert back to the family.” He abandoned the sandwiches to look at her. “It goes to the Peregrine Island trust.”
She stared at him stupidly. “I don’t understand.”
He turned back and flipped the sandwiches into the sizzling butter with unnecessary force. “The bottom line is, you’ve lost the cottage, and I’m sorrier about that than you can imagine.”
“But why did he change it?”
“I didn’t get the details—Cynthia was in the room—but he wasn’t exactly happy with what she did to Harp House. My guess is that he wanted to make sure the cottage stayed as it was, so rather than stand up to her, he went to his lawyer behind her back and made the change.”
Her head spun. “Mariah never mentioned this.”
“She didn’t know. Apparently no one knew except the island trustees.”
The sound of a vehicle approaching interrupted them. He handed her the spatula. “Keep an eye on these.”
As he made his way to the front door, she tried to piece it all together, but her thoughts were interrupted by a strange male voice at the front door. Moments later, Theo stuck his head back in the kitchen. “I have to go. Another emergency. You shouldn’t have to worry about intruders now, but keep the doors locked anyway.”
After he left, she sat at the table with one of the sandwiches. He’d used good cheddar with a touch of her favorite coarse brown mustard, but she was too tired to eat or to think. She needed sleep.
The next morning found her as clearheaded as she’d ever been. She had Jaycie’s Suburban and drove into town. The collection of dirty pickup trucks in front of Barbara Rose’s house indicated that the Monday-morning knitting group was in session. Before Annie had been able to fall asleep last night, she’d had plenty of time to think, and she let herself in without ringing the bell.
Upholstered furniture and knickknacks stuffed the living room. Amateur oil paintings of boats and buoys hung on the walls, along with half a dozen floral china plates. Every tabletop held family photos: Lisa blowing out birthday candles, Lisa and her brother opening Christmas presents. Even more photos showed off the Rose grandchildren.
Barbara commanded the room from a brown and gold platform rocker. Judy and Louise Nelson sat on the couch. Naomi, who should have been on the water by now, had the love seat to herself. Marie, looking as sour as ever, occupied an easy chair across from Tildy, who’d exchanged her fashionable wardrobe for shapeless sweat pants. None of them were knitting.
Barbara jumped up so quickly that the platform rocker bumped against the wall, rattling a china plate featuring a pair of golden retriever puppies. “Annie! This is a surprise. I suppose you heard about Phyllis Bakely.”
“No, I haven’t heard anything.”
“She had a stroke last night,” Tildy said. “Her husband, Ben, took her to the mainland, and Theo went with them.”
That explained why Theo hadn’t returned to the cottage. But Annie hadn’t driven into town to find him. She stared at the women, taking her time, and finally posing the question she’d come here to ask. “Which one of you tried to shoot me?”
Chapter Twenty-two
A COLLECTIVE GASP TRAVELED AROUND THE knitting circle. Louise leaned forward, as if her elderly ears had missed something. Judy gave a moan of distress, Barbara went rigid, Naomi set her jaw, and Tildy twisted her hands in her lap. Marie recovered the quickest. Her lips pursed and her small eyes narrowed. “We have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” Annie advanced into the room, not caring about tracking the carpet. “Why don’t I believe that?”
Barbara reached for the knitting bag by her chair and sat back down. “I think you’d better go. You’re obviously upset by everything that’s happened, but that’s no reason—”
Annie cut her off. “Upset doesn’t begin to describe it.”
“Really, Annie.” Tildy puffed up with indignation.
Annie spun toward Barbara, who’d begun riffling through her knitting bag. “You’re an island trustee. But there are six others. Do they know what you’ve done?”
“We haven’t done anything,” Naomi said in her sea captain’s voice.
Marie grabbed her own knitting bag. “You have no business barging in here and making these kinds of accusations. You need to leave.”
“That’s exactly what you’ve wanted from the beginning,” Annie said. “To make me leave. And you, Barbara. Pretending to befriend me when all you wanted was to get rid of me.”
Barbara’s needles moved faster. “I didn’t pretend anything. I like you very much.”
“Sure you do.” Annie stepped farther into the room, making sure they understood that she wasn’t leaving. She cast her eyes around the group, searching for the weak link and finding it. “What about your grandkids, Judy? Knowing what you’ve done, how will you ever look in the face of that little boy Theo delivered without remembering this?”
“Judy, don’t pay attention to her.” Tildy’s order held a tinge of desperation.
Annie focused on Judy Kester with her bright red hair, sunny disposition, and generous spirit. “What about your other grandkids? Do you really think they’ll never find out about this? You’ve set the example. They’re going to learn from you that it’s okay to do whatever it takes to get what you want, no matter whom you hurt on the way.”
Judy was designed for laughter, not confrontation. She dropped her face into her hands and began to cry, the silver crosses at her earlobes dropping again
st her cheek.
Annie was dimly aware of the front door opening, but she didn’t stop. “You’re a religious woman, Judy. How do you reconcile your faith with what you’ve done to me?” She took in the whole group. “How do any of you?”
Tildy twisted her wedding ring. “I don’t know what you think we’ve done . . .” Her voice faltered. “But . . . you’re wrong.”
“We all know I’m not.” Annie felt Theo behind her. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was the one who’d come in.
“You can’t prove anything.” Marie’s defiance didn’t ring true.
“Shut up, Marie,” Judy said with uncharacteristic vehemence. “This has gone on long enough. Too long.”
“Judy . . .” Naomi’s voice sounded a warning note. At the same time, she gripped her elbows across her chest, as if she were in pain.
Louise spoke for the first time. At eighty-three, her spine was bowed from osteoporosis, but she held her head high. “It was my idea. All mine. I did everything. They’re trying to protect me.”
“So noble,” Annie drawled.
Theo came to Annie’s side. He was scruffy and unshaven, but he carried himself with a tough kind of elegance that commanded everyone’s attention. “You didn’t trash the cottage by yourself, Mrs. Nelson,” he said. “And, forgive me, but you couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn.”
“We didn’t break anything,” Judy cried. “We were very careful.”
“Judy!”
“Well, we didn’t!” Judy said defensively.
They were defeated, and they knew it. Annie could see it in their expressions. They’d been done in by Judy’s conscience, and maybe their own. Naomi dropped her head, Barbara dropped her knitting, Louise sagged back into the couch, and Tildy pressed her palm to her lips. Only Marie looked defiant, for all the good it would do her.
“And the truth comes out,” Annie said. “Whose idea was it to put my puppet in a noose?” The image of Crumpet hanging from the ceiling still haunted her. Puppet or not, Crumpet was part of her.
Judy looked at Tildy, who rubbed her cheek. “I saw it in a movie,” Tildy said weakly. “Your puppet didn’t come to any harm.”