Page 29 of Nantucket Longing

Madeline didn’t know.

At two thirty in the afternoon, the plane landed in a snowy Boston.Unsurprisingly, given how close the Copperfields were, several of them were lined up in arrivals, including Julia, Anna, and Rachel, Henry’s tight-knit nuclear family.They swallowed Henry in hugs and then attacked her, too, saying how pleased they were that she’d managed to come back for Christmas.After months in Paris, it was strange to hear so much English at the airport, all of it so loud and boisterous, and Madeline breathed a sigh of relief when they reached the car and sped to Hyannis Port to take the ferry.All the way, she held Henry’s hand and listened as he talked to his mother about the reshoots required for several scenes in his movie, how close he’d become with the director, and his powerful relationship with Sophia Bianchi.

“It’s hard to believe it,” he said, “but it was a year ago that Sophia and I first met each other.Grandma sent me to her place for Christmas because she was worried I was too alone in Los Angeles.But I never could have imagined any of this would happen.”

“Do you think Greta knew?Do you think she imagined it?”Madeline asked, tilting her head.She knew that Greta had singular powers; that she could feel something extra-special about the world, about human relationships, about the possibilities available to her.It made her a fantastic writer.

“I don’t even think your grandmother could possibly know,” Julia said.

Back at The Copperfield House for the first time in months, Madeline fought her first instinct to go to the artist side of the house and instead let herself be directed to the bedroom that had been prepared for her and Henry.“We have a room ready for you at our place, too,” Julia explained nervously, smiling, “but we figured you’d be comfortable here, and Charlie’s girls are home, so.”

“We’ll make sure to be in both places,” Henry promised his mother.

When Henry closed the door to the bedroom, he and Madeline were alone for the first time in hours and fell onto the bed to cuddle.Henry’s eyes flickered closed, and Madeline kissed his neck and said, “We’re home,” although she wasn’t sure if that was exactly true.Henry’s home was in Los Angeles.Where was hers?

“Do you think we’ll ever live back in Nantucket?”she asked quietly.

Henry’s eyes opened, and he studied her.“I have another script in the works over in LA.”He said it simply, easily, although Madeline was sure he knew how much it might hurt her to hear it.

Still, Madeline squealed and hugged him.“I’m so happy for you!”She covered his face with kisses and told herself not to cry.“What’s it about?Why haven’t you sent me the script yet?”

Henry laughed and told her bits and pieces of the plot—that it was based on his grandparents’ life in Paris and that he wrote most of it last summer when he and Madeline were falling in love.

“Emotionally, I think it’s more about us than about Grandma and Grandpa,” he explained timidly.

Madeline’s eyes filled with tears.This was when she was supposed to tell Henry that she wanted to bail on Paris, bail on music and build a life with him in LA.It was where he was meant to be.But what about Poland?What about the life she’d never gotten to have?And why couldn’t she tell him about it?

I’m too nervous, she thought.She was frightened he’d tell her not to go to Poland, that there was nothing for her there.And if he told her not to go, it would break her heart.

Christmas was a beautiful time for the both of them.Madeline spent hours in the kitchen with Greta, slicing vegetables and chatting with her about all things writing, music, David, Paris, Henry, and filmmaking.Greta was extra eager to discuss Madeline’s newfound commitment to improvisation.Madeline had many theories about why she’d never been able to improvise before, and Greta explained that she thought a more creative mind was a more intellectual one.“You need to know how to be playful with your life and your time on the planet,” Greta said, stirring through a big skillet of frying onions.Outside, snow fell gently onto the beach and lined the porch stairs, and Madeline sipped a glass of mulled wine and thought that, to her, Paris already seemed like another lifetime.

“All my life, I practiced eight, nine, sometimes twelve hours a day,” Madeline said, feeling soft and sad.“There wasn’t time to be creative.My mother would smack the wall or yell if I made too many mistakes, and I was terrified of that.”

Greta turned away from the skillet to look at Madeline.It was rare that Madeline ever spoke of her mother, and Greta seemed to want to honor that.

“She was too strict with you,” Greta said.“I suppose that’s why you wanted to quit.”

Madeline shook her head, and bits of her hair got stuck in her lips.She stared out at the snow, willing herself to keep going.She traced back through time and remembered that fateful February at Juilliard—a day that had always been set aside to change her life forever.But never could she have imagined it would go like that.

It was then that Madeline got up the nerve to tell Greta the story that was never far from her mind.

ChapterSixteen

Diana

February 2019

It was surreal to walk the grand halls of Juilliard.How often had Diana dreamed of being here with Madeline?How often had she prayed that the professors and grand musicians would speak Madeline’s name with a sense of hope and promise—a sense that she was the next best thing for the classical world?Now, Madeline was in the practice room, reviewing her scales, practicing the pieces she’d memorized and played over thousands of hours.Diana decided to explore a little, to pretend as though Diana herself was a young woman with her entire life ahead of her; as though Diana herself had been allowed to continue to play the piano, to practice for hours and hours and become the world-renowned pianist Diana Nowak.(Of course, in this pretend version of her life, she would have taken her mother’s last name after her father left for the United States without her.) How different everything would have been!Diana never would have had to work as a house cleaner.

She never would have had to pour beers in a bar.Instead, her life would have involved velvet dresses and grand concert halls and long, fancy white gloves.Maybe she would have met a handsome guy, another performer, and maybe they would have gotten married and had a family of equally successful and good-looking performers.In this pretend version of her life, Diana imagined that her mother, Barbara, came over for dinner all the time, that she said,I’m so proud of you, Diana.Look at the life you built for yourself.She imagined that she and Barbara stayed up late, talking over glasses of wine about everything from music to fashion to travel to politics.She imagined that they didn’t agree about everything but respected one another’s opinions.Diana’s heart felt cracked.

Outside, snow fell gently on the Juilliard campus.Diana got in her car and turned up the heat, rubbing her hands together and watching as real Juilliard students hurried from one side of campus to the other.Some moved like ballerinas, graceful and lithe, while others lugged big instruments and furrowed their brows.How often would Diana be able to come out to visit Madeline?She imagined she’d come frequently during the first year, but that Madeline would be too busy to see her as often in the ones after that.Where did that leave Diana’s life?What would she do when she got back to Michigan?Should she move?The idea had never occurred to her till now.Nothing was rooting her in Michigan.

Finally, she could live for herself and only for herself.But Diana had never done that before.As a child, she’d lived for her mother, and after they’d left Poland, she’d lived for her father.Was it possible that she didn’t really know who she was?

Suddenly, Diana’s cell phone rang.The sound startled her so much that she jumped in her car seat.Ruffling through her purse, she pulled out the cell to see a number she didn’t recognize.She ignored it and prepared to leave the parking lot.But when the same number called a second later, she groaned and answered it.“Hello?”

A Polish voice came through the speaker.In a language she never spoke, a man said, “Today is the big day.Barbara wanted to pass on her congratulations to you and your daughter for this remarkable achievement.”

---