Heroes Are My Weakness: A Novel

The faintest shadow of a smile softened his features. “What is it about you?”

“My taste in pajamas? I have no idea.”

“How about your decency?” Then, more severely, “And stupidity. Promise me you won’t make any more treks on foot. And when you’re driving, keep your eyes open.”

“Wide open.” She finally knew the truth about his marriage only to wish she didn’t. In the process of satisfying her curiosity, she’d allowed one more crack to form in the wall between them, one more brick to fall. “Good night,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Hey, we had a deal. Aren’t you supposed to take off your clothes now?”

“It would only be pity sex,” she said, in a mock confessional. “I won’t insult you like that.”

“Go ahead. Insult me.”

“You’re much too evolved. You’ll thank me later.”

“I seriously doubt that,” he muttered as she left him alone.


SATURDAY NIGHT WAS THE VILLAGE’S monthly Lobster Boil, and Jaycie had asked Annie to take her. “It’s not so much for me,” she’d said. “But Livia hardly ever gets to be with other kids. And I’ll be able to introduce you to everyone you haven’t met.”

This was Jaycie’s first night off since she’d broken her foot. Her ready smiles as she baked the chocolate pecan sheet cake for the event indicated how much she was looking forward to it for her own sake, not just for Livia’s.

Jaycie’s run-down Chevy Suburban was parked in the garage. As with so many of the island’s road-weary vehicles, rust patches were eating through the body, hubcaps were missing, and there was no license plate, but it did have a properly attached car seat for Livia, so they were taking it.

Annie buckled Livia in, put the cake on the floor behind the passenger seat, then helped Jaycie get settled. The night was windy, but with no fresh snow and the worst of the icy patches gone, the road wasn’t as treacherous as it had been. Still, Annie was glad to be driving the Suburban instead of her own car.

She’d dressed up in the only skirt she’d brought with her, a slim-fitting dark green pencil skirt with a soft, three-inch wool flounce that brushed her knees. She’d paired the skirt with one of Mariah’s white, long-sleeved ballet tops, her own cranberry tights, and designer boots that laced to just above her ankles. She’d spotted them in the window of a resale shop last winter and bought them for next to nothing. With a good cleaning and fresh laces, they looked almost new.

As they turned out onto the road, Annie addressed Livia over her shoulder. “Scamp is sorry she couldn’t come with you tonight. She has a sore throat.”

Livia glowered and kicked the heels of her sneakers hard against her seat, making the brown velvet cat ears on her headband wobble. She didn’t need words to communicate how she felt about the puppet’s absence. “Maybe I can meet Scamp someday,” Jaycie said. She toyed with her coat zipper. “How’s Theo?”

Even in the dim light, her too-bright smile was painful. Annie hated seeing her like this. As pretty as she was, Jaycie didn’t have a chance with Theo. He was attracted to beautiful, brilliant, and crazy, three qualities neither Jaycie nor Annie possessed. For Annie, that was a bonus, but Jaycie wouldn’t see it the same way.

Annie skirted the truth. “He was in the studio working when I went to bed last night, and I barely saw him this morning.”

But she’d seen enough. The sight of him coming out of her bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, beads of water still glistening on his shoulders, had stopped her in her tracks. Exactly the kind of reaction to him that might have gotten her pregnant.

She swallowed her trepidation. “Someone broke into the cottage again yesterday when no one was there.” Conscious of Livia in the backseat, she didn’t say any more. “I’ll tell you later.”

Jaycie twisted her hands on her lap. “I haven’t been able to get hold of Laura Keen to talk to her about Danny. Maybe she’ll be here tonight.”

They pulled up at the brightly lit town hall. The flag on the flagpole was blowing straight up, and people were streaming inside holding plastic cupcake carriers, six-packs of beer, and liter bottles of soda. Jaycie seemed nervous, and Annie rescued the crutch she dropped as she climbed out of the car.

They battled the wind to get to the door. Livia clutched her pink stuffed kitten, and her thumb crept to her mouth. Maybe it was Annie’s imagination, but a momentary lull seemed to fall over the crowd as the three of them entered. Seconds passed, and then several of the older women came toward them—Barbara Rose, Judy Kester, and boat captain Naomi.

Barbara gave Jaycie a gentle hug, enveloping her in a cloud of floral perfume. “We were afraid you wouldn’t make it tonight.”

“You’ve been out of touch too long,” Naomi said.

Judy squatted down in front of Livia. “Look what a big girl you are,” she squealed, her red hair brighter than ever. “Can I have a hug?”

Definitely not. Livia ducked behind Annie for protection. Annie reached back and rubbed her shoulder. She loved that Livia viewed her as a safe haven.

Judy backed off with a laugh, took Jaycie’s cake, and carried it to the dessert table while they got rid of their coats. Jaycie’s black slacks and royal blue sweater were well worn but still flattering. Her long blond hair swung from a side part, and her carefully applied makeup included mascara, eye shadow, and cherry lipstick.

The meeting room at the town hall was barely as big as the living room at Harp House and crowded with long tables covered in white paper. The scuffed gray walls displayed the community bulletin board, yellowed historical photographs, an amateurish oil painting of the harbor, first-aid posters, and a fire extinguisher. One doorway led to the closet-size library, the other to the combined clerk’s office, post office, and—judging from the savory smells—kitchen.

Lobster Boil, Jaycie explained, was a misnomer for the monthly event, since no lobster was involved. “We eat so much of it that about twenty years ago people decided to change the menu to a traditional New England boiled dinner. Beef brisket or ham during the winter, clams and corn on the cob in the summer. I don’t know why we still call it a Lobster Boil.”

“Let no one ever accuse the islanders of not hanging on to their traditions,” Annie said.

Jaycie tugged at her bottom lip with her teeth. “Sometimes I think I’m going to suffocate if I have to stay here another day.”

Lisa McKinley came through the doorway from the kitchen area. She wore jeans and a V-neck blouse that showcased a Victorian-style necklace, a present—she was quick to announce—from Cynthia Harp. Annie drifted off so she and Jaycie could catch up. As she moved among the tables, bits of conversation swirled around her.

“. . . five hundred pounds behind where my catch was this time last year.”

“. . . forgot to order Bisquick, so I have to make them from scratch.”

“That’s more than the price of a new helm pump.”

Annie studied a black-and-white print hanging crookedly on the wall. It showed figures in seventeenth-century garb standing by the sea. Naomi came up behind her and nodded toward the print. “Lobsters washed right up on the beach during colonial times. They had so many they fed them to their pigs and the prisoners in jail.”

“They’re still a treat for me,” Annie said.

“They are for most people, and that’s good news for us. But we have to keep the crop sustainable or we’re out of business.”

“How do you do that?”

“With a lot of regulation about when and where people can fish. And breeders are off limits. If we catch a breeding female, we cut a V in its tail fin to identify it and throw it back in. Eighty percent of the lobsters we catch have to be thrown back either because they’re undersize, oversize, V-notched, or they’re carrying eggs.”

“Hard life.”

“You have to love it, that’s for sure.” She tugged on one of the silver studs in her earlobes. “If you’re interested, you can come out on my boat. The weather looks like it’ll be fairly decent at the beginning of the week, and not many city people can say they’ve worked as a sternman on a Maine lobster boat.”

The invitation took Annie aback. “I’d love that.”

Naomi seemed genuinely pleased. “You’ll have to get up early. And don’t wear your good clothes.”

They’d just made arrangements for Annie to meet Naomi at the boathouse dock on Monday morning when the outside door swung open bringing a fresh blast of cold air. Theo walked in.

The noise level in the room dropped as people grew aware of his presence. Theo nodded, and the chatter picked up again, but most of the crowd continued to watch him surreptitiously. Jaycie paused in her conversation with Lisa to gaze at him. A group of men with weather-beaten faces gestured him over to join them.

Annie felt something tug on her skirt and looked down to see Livia trying to get her attention. The child had grown bored with the company of adults, and her attention was fixed on a group of children in the corner, three boys and two girls, the youngest of whom Annie recognized from her library visit as Lisa’s daughter. Annie had no trouble interpreting the entreaty in Livia’s expression. She wanted to play with the children but was too shy to approach them by herself.

Annie took her hand, and they approached the group together. The girls were putting stickers in a book while the boys argued over a handheld video game. She smiled at the girls, their round cheeks and red hair clearly identifying them as sisters. “I’m Annie. And you know Livia.”

The older one looked up. “We didn’t see you for a long time. I’m Kaitlin and this is my sister, Alyssa.”

Alyssa gazed at Livia. “How old are you now?”

Livia held up four fingers.

“I’m five. What’s your middle name? Mine is Rosalind.”

Livia dipped her head.