Page 22 of Nantucket Longing

“I’ll never understand it.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing your voice,” Madeline said, surprising herself with how sensitive she sounded.She gazed around the room at the strange mahogany desk and the beautiful vases on the end table and felt a level of foreignness she couldn’t shake for as long as she was in Paris.“I can’t believe you’re so far away!”

“I know.I know.But I’m so excited for you,” Henry said.“You know, a part of me hoped you’d come out to LA?A part of me hoped you’d wait for me at home while I worked all day?Now I recognize how silly that idea was.You’re an artist.You’re meant to be out there working, just like me.”

Madeline’s heart thumped with sorrow.She’d wanted that, too—to go out to LA and love him and wait, but she didn’t want to say it aloud.“Your grandmother thinks we’re silly for talking to each other so much, I think.I think she’d prefer we dropped it.”

Henry laughed.“She’s the most driven person I know.But you have to remember, she’s a softy, too.She loves my grandfather.I’m sure she stops editing for a few minutes every day just to talk to him.”

Madeline laughed.“Maybe she stops for thirty seconds.”

Suddenly, Henry yawned in a way that made Madeline picture his handsome face, drawn and pale after long days on set.

“Where are you right now?”Madeline asked.

“The director and I are staying up late,” Henry said.“I told him I want to, you know, direct one day, so he’s showing me a few things before I head home.He took a call from his wife, so I figured I’d call and see if you made it in okay.”

Madeline was pleased he’d thought of her first.But she didn’t want to steal him away from the director for too long.Her stomach sank.“You’d better get back in there, Kid.”

Henry laughed.“I never should have told you they call me that.”

Madeline pressed her lips together.Exhaustion and travel and fear of the unknown brewed in her like a storm, and she closed her eyes and said, “I do love you, Henry.”

Henry’s tone was dark and formal.“I love you, too.Good luck out there.Send me pictures.Paris is one of the best places in the world.And you get to live there!”

“For a little while,” Madeline said.

“I’m sure it’ll work out.Everyone my grandparents know has tricks up their sleeves.”

Madeline and Henry hung up, leaving Madeline to pad around the quiet and shadowy apartment, removing things from her suitcase and making coffee in an Italian moka pot.She’d never used one before, but it wasn’t so difficult, and very soon, piping-hot coffee sputtered from the top.She poured it into a mug and ate a croissant, watching two sparrows twittering outside.She knew that birds like that would leave the city; that Paris would be cast in the same shadows and dark clouds as Nantucket had been last winter.

Out loud, she said, “This is my new home.”But still, she felt so alone and frightened.

After a brief nap, Madeline went for a walk through her neighborhood.It was in the mid-sixties, and it seemed everyone was outside, showing off their exquisite wardrobes, their flowing hair, their little cigarettes and taut bodies.Madeline got another coffee at a round table and people watched all morning, taking brief breaks to read her book or write in her journal.She remembered that, many years ago, she’d wanted to come to a junior piano competition in Paris.Diana had fought hard to make enough money for the plane tickets, but it just hadn’t come together.They’d opted only for things within the United States—contests they could afford to enter and travel to.But Madeline had always known her mother wanted to return to Europe.Everything had changed since Diana had left Poland.Madeline was sure that Diana would like to roam the village where she’d grown up and eat real Polish food again.She was sure she wanted to bump into strangers and speak the language she’d learned as a baby.

Sometimes it was hard for Madeline to fathom how much her mother had gone through as a young girl.She was pretty sure Diana had only told her the highlights: that her father had taken her out of Poland to pursue the capital he thought awaited him in the United States, that she hadn’t been able to speak English when they’d arrived in Manhattan, and that they’d moved to Detroit a year or so after that.Diana had never mentioned her own mother, and Madeline assumed she was dead.Diana hadn’t told Madeline much about Madeline’s father, only that he’d left shortly after Madeline was born.Madeline hadn’t given him much thought over the years and had only googled him a handful of times.There were too many Allen Willises to know which one was hers.

The server came by with the bill and a flurry of French language that Madeline couldn’t understand.When she asked for English, he explained he had to close up the café for the afternoon, and she needed to go.Madeline paid and walked around the neighborhood, thrumming with shock and fear and excitement.She wanted to call Henry and tell him everything she’d seen so far but knew he was either fast asleep or staying up all night with the director.In her heart of hearts, she hoped he was having a good time.

That night, David and the other musicians welcomed her to Paris with a feast at the Royal Brass—a French restaurant down the street from their jazz club.Sandy, the woman who played trombone, handed Madeline a bouquet of roses, and David, the drummer Jerry, the bassist Polly, and the trumpet player Steve got up to shake her hand and say they were so excited to play with her.Madeline sat down and cupped her knees, looking at their faces, searching for some sense that she’d already disappointed them.But they only looked and talked about her as though they were tickled pink that she was there.

Was this what it was like to make friends?

They ordered a feast: French cuisine slathered in sauces and dense with flavor, a fresh baguette that crunched when you broke it with your hands, bottles of wine, and chocolate tarte and ice cream with berries and cream for dessert.It was the most decadent meal Madeline had ever had.What surprised her most of all was the fluid way that David paid for it with a card, waving everyone else’s hands away.“I’ll pay, but only if all of you promise you’ll be at rehearsal right on time tomorrow!”he said, pausing to look Madeline in the eye.“We have a brand-new member and a performance in three days.We have to mesh.”

Madeline was suddenly frightened.She’d played wonderfully with David, but she’d never improvised with such a big group before.As her heart fluttered, she fixed her face and told herself it would be all right.If it wasn’t, she could always fly to Los Angeles and hide herself in Henry’s place until he got sick of her.Ugh!

But there was no reason for Madeline to be frightened of performing with her new friends.The following day’s rehearsal and the one after that were fluid, dynamic, and emotional.Madeline watched herself make creative risks that she hadn’t thought she was capable of, and she popped out several solos that had the others applauding until they had to come back in with their instruments.When their rehearsals were over, they dragged Madeline out to little bars around the area, ordering her red wine and begging her for details about her musical career.

“You’re so young!”Polly cried.

“She started when she was three,” David boasted.“She was going to go to Juilliard but decided not to audition and dropped out and moved to LA!’

Madeline grimaced.She’d forgotten she’d lied to David about this pivotal fact.But she supposed it didn’t matter either way.She hadn’t gone to Juilliard, and David liked that about her.

“I wonder how long we’ll be able to keep you until you decide to head somewhere else,” Sandy said, rolling a cigarette and arching her eyebrow.

“Let’s not get carried away,” David said, waving his hand.“We’re going to have Madeline for as long as Madeline can stand us.I’m sure questions like that won’t help at all.”

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