Page 26 of Trick of Light

Renee appeared in the doorway. She had wet hair and wore a big T-shirt that she’d had since high school, upon which was written Nantucket Football. She looked as though she’d cried all the way through her bath.

“Look at the two of you,” she breathed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Aren’t you two peas in a pod?”

As gently as he could, Rod shifted Felix off his chest and wrapped him up in his blankets with his stuffed bear beside him. He tiptoed backward out of the room and shut the door only halfway. If Felix needed him in the night, all he had to do was call.

Chapter Twelve

The drive from Savannah to Nantucket took nineteen hours—ten hours the first day and nine the second. It required a stop-over in Virginia, where they ordered room service and watched action movies on the big-screen television. Nobody brought up Nick, and nobody asked to call home. Late at night, as Bethany gazed through the shadows at her sleeping children, she felt a panic attack rise up across her chest and through her arms. She filled her lungs, closed her eyes, and counted to ten, then twenty, then thirty, waiting for it to pass. She was doing the right thing.

Tommy, Maddie, and Phoebe were vibrant and happy throughout the drive, trading books or Pokémon cards, playing video games, or singing songs. Sometimes, Maddie sat up front with Bethany; other times, Tommy took the passenger seat, flicking through local radio stations and saying everything he knew about the states they passed through. He was such a smart boy, far smarter than his father, Bethany thought. Destined to do great things. Her daughters, too.

Maybe they wouldn’t be cursed by the Waterstone or Sutton names. It was never far from her mind that Victor Sutton was just as problematic as the Waterstones were.

Bethany was grateful for her children’s excitement. When she’d told them they were heading to Nantucket to visit her side of the family, she’d half expected them to resist, to ask why their father wasn’t coming. But they were malleable, as many children were. They were open to change.

Nick hadn’t come out of his study at all as they’d packed up and prepared to leave. Bethany had even knocked on the door and softly said, “I don’t know if we’ll ever come back.”

She hadn’t known she was going to say that. Perhaps it sounded like a threat. But after she’d said it, Bethany understood just how right it felt. She didn’t want her children to grow up with Amanda and Bob as grandparents. She didn’t want to work at that hospital and feel all that pity from her colleagues, all of whom knew just how wretched it was to be married to Nick Waterstone.

Another life awaited them. It was time to go. They would work out the specifics later. “Play it as it lays,” so to speak.

When Bethany parked on the Nantucket ferry, her children scrambled out and hurried to the top deck. Bethany watched their faces as they gazed, captivated, at the rollicking ocean. The air was fresher this far north and easier to breathe.

“Bethany Sutton?” A voice rang through the crowd, and Bethany turned, smiling, to find an old friend of her mother’s, who was about a million years old these days, with bright white hair and a stooped posture. Her eyes glinted with good humor.

“Mrs. Blithe!” Bethany reached out to take her hand. “What are you doing out here?”

Mrs. Blithe was like many islanders. She didn’t leave if she didn’t have to. What did the rest of the world have that Nantucket didn’t? Nothing, Bethany had found out. Only confusion. Only fear.

“I should ask you the same thing,” Mrs. Blithe said. “I heard you were back last month. I didn’t imagine you’d return so soon for another visit.”

“I got a taste of island life again,” Bethany explained easily. “I needed to share it with my children.”

Speaking to Mrs. Blithe now reminded Bethany of being a little girl again. The entire island had known her name, her parents, and genuinely cared for and watched out for her. Perhaps, if she and the kids really did stay, her children would enjoy the same privileges. They’d be protected.

Raising her children in the suburbs of Savannah had frequently made Bethany fearful. The city had lurked, fast and dangerous, just a few minutes away. The newspapers and online articles she’d read told her stories of criminal activity, of children who’d gone out one day and never came home. How many nights had she stayed awake, tossing and turning, fearful that her children were just a few days, weeks, or months away from disappearing, too?

She’d craved the comforts of island life. She’d ached for that safety.

“Your mother must be over the moon,” Mrs. Blithe said.

“Oh, yes. You know, she’s never met her grandchildren,” Bethany added, her hand on Phoebe’s soft hair.

Mrs. Blithe made a soft noise of surprise in her throat. Bethany knew what she was thinking. Families being apart for so long was practically a crime. There was no reason for it.

Bethany hadn’t spoken to Esme directly about her return. She’d whispered her plans to Rebecca on the phone as her children had thrown clothes and toys in their suitcases, her voice breaking, her heart thudding like a drum. She hadn’t bothered to explain the specifics or the why. Rebecca already knew Bethany was miserable in her marriage. Probably, she thought it was as simple as that.

But nothing about marriage was simple.

“We’ll talk more when you get here,” Rebecca had said, her voice firm. “Whatever it is, we can get through this. Together.”

Bethany drove slowly through the sun-bleached streets of Nantucket Island. July was the height of tourist season, and American flags flapped in the wind from porches and restaurant fronts. Tommy pointed out that almost everyone was eating an ice cream cone, and Bethany promised they could get some that afternoon after they settled in at their grandmother’s place. Because Rebecca and her three children were also staying at Esme’s, Bethany wasn’t entirely sure how they’d all fit. Rebecca had assured her it would all work out.

“We’ll put blow-up mattresses everywhere! The kids can share rooms! It’ll be like summer camp!” Rebecca had said.

Even though Bethany had always technically been the most responsible, Rebecca was the eldest. That meant something. She wanted to carry Bethany forward. She wanted to help.

After Bethany turned the engine off in Esme’s driveway, Rebecca burst from the front door and waved happily. She led her three children out into the front yard—Shelby, Chad, and Lily, all of whom were tanned and muscular, presumably from hiking across Nantucket and swimming in the sound. Bethany imagined her own children looking like that in just a few weeks’ time. It was amazing how quickly children fell into an easy rhythm somewhere.

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