Page 63 of Before the Storm

“How was the walk, honey?” Cindy got up to give Josie a cup of cocoa and gave her a side hug. She’d been much cozier and kinder since everything had unleashed back in Seattle. But sometimes, at night, Josie could still hear Cindy talking to Bob. Josie couldn’t blame her mother for that.

Josie sat with her mother and sister for a little while, listening and sipping her cocoa. She was too tired to contribute much.

The topic was Cindy’s “return” to Nantucket and what it might mean to the people she’d once loved.

“It’s just that I don’t know why they would let me back in,” Cindy said.

“You were an avid member of the Sutton Book Club!” Tara reminded her. “You never missed a meeting, and Esme always loved you.”

“She did not,” Cindy said. “She barely knew me. And I’m sure she judges me harshly for what happened.” She meant leaving her girls behind when they needed her.

“The Suttons haven’t had it easy, either,” Tara reminded her before going into the specifics of a family who’d gone through tremendous turmoil after a son’s untimely death, even before Cindy and Bob had left the island.

Josie remembered now that Joel Sutton had died of cancer, too. It was a disease that knew only to destroy and left its echo decades later.

Cindy nodded, remembering. After a moment, she added, “If I’m in Nantucket for a little while, I suppose I’d like to reach out to old friends.”

“Stay as long as you want,” Tara said. “You know you’re welcome.”

Cindy hesitated, and her cheek flinched. Josie knew what was on her mind. Bob was buried out West; she didn’t like to be far from him. But Tara is still alive, and Josie wanted to tell her. She’s got a big, beating heart, and she wants to use it to love you, her mother. Accept it!

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Tara leaped to her feet. Her face was illuminated so much that Josie immediately knew something was up.

“Is it Johan?” Josie demanded. “Did you tell him we got back?”

They’d only flown back to Boston and drove back to the island last night, but Josie guessed that Tara had been texting Johan, updating him on their progress with their mother, flirting with him deep into the night out in Seattle. She was curious how Tara flirted at this age, especially with someone like Johan. Maybe they were both making it up as they went along.

“Who is Johan?” Cindy asked. “Tara? Why didn’t you tell me about Johan!?”

Tara laughed and rolled her eyes before disappearing into the foyer. Josie and Cindy gave one another nervous smiles.

“I wonder what she has up her sleeve,” Cindy said. “She’s so secretive.”

Josie considered the past two weeks in Seattle, during which she’d rested, watched films with her mother and sister, eaten divine seafood, talked about old memories, and built a beautiful—if small—foundation of friendship. Cindy had needed to tie up a few loose ends, and Tara had seemed fine with it, often going out of her way to have conversations Josie would have thought Tara was too frightened to have.

Josie recognized that there had been something strange about Tara for the past two weeks. But when Josie pestered herabout it, all Tara said was, “I’m just so happy we’re together again. All three of us.”

People were crying in the foyer. Josie’s and Cindy’s faces transformed, and Josie’s heart began to beat violently. She tried to get to her feet, but she was a bit tired from her beach walk and dropped back onto the cushioned chair.

Tara and another woman were crying and whispering. Tara said, “How was it? Are you all right? Oh, honey, you should sit down.”

The other woman assured her, “No, I’m completely fine! Really.” There was a moment of beautiful silence.

And then, a young pregnant woman entered the living room with eyes only for Josie.

This time, Josie didn’t let her fatigue get the best of her. Tears sprang to her eyes.

“Winnie?” she gasped.

It could only be her.

Few moments in Josie’s life were crystallized in her memory forever. Because she’d never had a baby of her own, the birth of Winnie was one of them—the maddening, harrowing late-night Fourth of July labor and delivery, during which Tara had squeezed Josie’s hand so hard that Josie had wept and cried with her, knowing it was all a big and beautiful effort to bring a brand-new soul into the world. That soul was this girl, or woman—Winnie, at twenty-three years old, was the most beautiful person Josie had ever seen. Never had she imagined she’d speak to Winnie again. Tara hadn’t brought up their communication whatsoever, nor had she hinted that this would happen, and Josie had decided to put it to rest in her mind and stop hoping she’d see her or talk to her.

Bringing Winnie here was Tara’s final gift to Josie, maybe.

“Winnie,” Josie whispered again just as she wrapped her arms around her and pressed her tearstained cheek to her shoulder.

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