Chapter Sixteen
"Oh good.” Nan peers out of the kitchen window as she does the washing up. "That nice man from the garden center’s here. Daniel, would you mind just running out and telling him I’m in the kitchen? I’ll be out in a minute.”
Nan watches as Daniel walks outside and introduces himself to Matt, pointing inside then nodding and climbing up into the back of the truck to help get the tools.
How could they not like each other, she thinks. Matt, short but perfectly formed, his arms a deep, rich tan from working outside in the sun, with longish brown hair and a ready smile, is nothing short of adorable, and a perfect foil for the more brooding Daniel.
What a lovely couple they would make, she thinks, smiling to herself, wiping her hands on a towel. Not that she’s trying to push anyone into anything, but that poor Daniel is so sad, and so obviously confused. Amazing that his wife doesn’t seem to know, but this must be so hard for Daniel. He looks like he could use, at the very least, a friend.
They work hard, Daniel and Matt, side by side. Nan watches from the window like a mother hen, emerging from time to time to check their progress, bringing them cold lemonade, then calling them for lunch.
“I set the table under the pergola,” Nan says. “You two need a break and I have to dash off to the A & P with Michael.” And with a jaunty wave, she’s gone, a smile on her face.
She would love to stay, but knows they will be more comfortable alone.
Matt walks in front, grinning as he sees the table. Daniel, following behind, looks away as Matt pulls off the gardening gloves and tucks them absentmindedly into the back pocket of his jeans, then looks back at the smooth curve of Matt’s backside in rough, faded Levi’s, blushing as Matt turns and catches his gaze.
Two linen placemats are laid out, a white bowl of salad greens from the garden, toasted pine nuts and feta, beautifully cut roast beef sandwiches, and a basket of what smells suspiciously like freshly baked bread.
“Damn!” Matt slaps his thigh. “She forgot the candles!”
“What?” Daniel looks at him in confusion.
“Well, doesn’t this feel like we’re being set up on a date?” He grins again, not entirely unhappy about the situation, as Daniels eyes widen.
“We are? But . . . Nan doesn’t know . . . ?” Daniel’s voice trails off.
“Doesn’t know what? That I’m gay? Oh Daniel, everyone on the island who knows me knows I’m gay. I think it’s sweet. She thinks we’d make a nice couple.” He raises an eyebrow at Daniel, who flushes and looks away, not knowing what on earth to say, unused to flirting with a man, and particularly with a man so unexpectedly cute.
“Oh shit.” Matt’s face falls. “Don’t tell me you’re straight. Oh my God! I’m so embarrassed.”
“No, no,” Daniel lays a hand on his arm as Matt sinks his head in his hands. “I am gay—” and even as he says those words he feels relief flood through him—“it’s just that . . . I’m newly gay.”
“You just came out?”
“Well, not officially. I don’t understand how Nan knew?”
“Because you thought you were as straight as they come? Oh honey . . .” Matt throws his head back and laughs. “I hate to disappoint you but we can always tell.”
“Nan too?”
Matt shrugs. “Nan? Of course. Shall we sit down? This food looks delicious and, bless her, she’s even left cold beers in the cooler for us. I think we should treat this as the date it’s supposed to be.”
Daniel sits, gratefully taking a swig of the beer Matt hands to him. “I was married until about a minute ago.”
“Married? Married? To a woman ?”
Daniel nods.
“No wonder you’re so jumpy. This really must be new for you. Were you faithful or were there men on the side?”
“God, no!” Daniel says. “I’ve got two daughters. I’d never be unfaithful.”
“But you’ve always known you were gay?”
Daniel nods.
“Me too.” Matt dishes out the salad as he talks. “I guess I was lucky. My dad left us when I was four, and my mom always had tons of gay friends. It seemed completely natural to be gay and, honestly, I don’t ever remember having a conversation about it, or ever officially coming out. It just evolved, and was never uncomfortable, or an issue. I’ve met so many married men over the years. Actually—” he looks coy for a second—“I’ve had affairs with one or two, but I’ve known so many men who are married and who can’t see another way. Most of them stay married their entire lives and the wives never know.”
Daniel nods. “That’s how it was for me. I’ve always known, but I didn’t want to know, didn’t want it to be true. I thought that being married to a woman would somehow keep me safe.” He snorts. “Isn’t that ridiculous?”
“No. I think a lot of men feel that way.”
“But I thought I could do it, and then something happened. A guy I was once . . . well, we had a fling years ago, before I was married. I hadn’t seen him for years then he got back in touch, and he came out years ago—and I saw what my life could have been, could still be, and realized I couldn’t live a lie any longer. I just couldn’t do it.”
“I think that’s incredibly brave,” Matt says. “I can’t imagine what it would be like, having to tell all the people in your life: jeez, sorry but I made a mistake, after all these years of you thinking I was straight, guess what?”
“Oh God,” Daniel groans. “I’m trying not to think about it.”
“What was your wife’s reaction?” Matt is curious now. “Is she okay?”
Daniel looks down at the table. “I haven’t told her yet,” he says slowly.
“Are you going to?”
“Of course!” He looks up. “I just don’t know when. Or how. I feel like I’ve caused her enough pain. She thought everything in the marriage was great. Well, almost everything . . .”
“As in, you never wanted to sleep with her?”
Daniel shrugs with a resigned smile.
“Got it. You know, though,” Matt says, “I know people who have told their wives, and it’s almost made it easier, because it stops being about them, they stop being able to blame themselves. I think when relationships end we spend so much time thinking about the ‘if onlys’: if only I’d been more understanding, or less understanding. If only I’d been nicer, or worked less, or any number of things. Okay, I’m rambling now, but the point is that the what ifs can wreak even more havoc on a situation that’s already difficult. If your wife knew the truth, she’d know she couldn’t have competed, she couldn’t have done anything differently to make you stay. It may be that it makes it much easier for both of you.”
Daniel nods slowly. “I’d never thought of it like that. I guess I’d just thought of trying to avoid causing her more pain.”
“I’m not saying she’s going to throw her arms around you and thank you, then want to be your best friend, although, frankly, stranger things have happened.” He gazes intently at Daniel. “You might want to think about telling her the truth.”
“Wow.” Daniel shakes his head in surprise, a smile on his lips. “I can’t actually believe I’m talking about it now, so freely, like this.”
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Matt raises his beer.
“It does. It really, really does. Cheers.” And they both tuck in to the food.
Nan stays away for as long as she can, going straight back out to the garden when she finally gets home.
Daniel’s almost finished digging one bed, Matt turning the soil on the other one, and Daniel is laughing at something Matt has been saying. Oh goody, Nan thinks, they like one another.
“How are my beds?”
Matt looks up. “Almost done. And thank you, Nan. Lunch was delicious.”
“Entirely unexpected but wonderful,” echoes Daniel. “Thank you.”
“You two look like you’re getting on.” Nan can’t help herself.
“It’s remarkable,” Matt says. “In the four hours since we met we’ve fallen head over heels in love and we’ll be moving in together next week.”
Nan almost keels over in shocked delight. “Really?”
“No!” Matt shakes his head as Daniel grins and looks away. “Not really. But now at least we see you did have an ulterior motive.”
“Was it that obvious?”
Matt shrugs. “It was the flowers on the table that did it. We were wondering where the candles were.”
“I did think about candles,” Nan says, seriously. “I just thought it was a bit unnecessary, given that it’s a hot summer’s day.”
“We were joking,” Daniel says, thinking how strange it is to say “we,” when referring to anyone other than Bee.
“Oh boys,” Nan says. “Stop being so wicked. Let me show you how I want these beds planted out.” She takes Matt’s arm and walks him up to the house to show him the pictures she’s cut out of a garden magazine.
“Did you mind?” Later, long after Matt has gone, Nan comes outside and sits next to Daniel, sinking into one of the old, scratched-up Adirondack chairs overlooking the bay. “Was it horribly presumptuous of me?”
“A little, but I don’t mind. Can I ask you, though—how did you know?”
“Oh darling. An old bird like me? I’ve learned to listen to my intuition these days. I didn’t when I was younger, you know, and every time I ignored it, it got me into trouble. Now I find that the little voice is almost always right, and there was nothing in particular, just a feeling.”
“Okay.”
“Were you worried you were suddenly behaving like a screaming queen without realizing it?” Nan laughs.
“I was a bit.” Daniel grins sheepishly, and she shakes her head.
“Not a bit of it. But now do tell me about Matt. Isn’t he lovely? The two of you seemed to get on.”
“We did. He’s a good guy. Helped me see things another way.”
“Good.” She nods, loving being the mother hen again, loving having people to look after. “Oh my gosh,” she says, looking at her watch. “The new tenant will be here any minute and I was hoping to make dinner for all of us, a sort of getting-to-know-you night.”
“Can I help?”
“You most certainly can. I’m making the chowder; you can do the crab cakes. Let’s get a move on and see if we can all sit down for eight.”
Daff puts her bags down and goes over to the window, sinking down and curling her feet up under her, looking out of the window with delight, a sigh of satisfaction escaping her. She has seen views like this many times over the years—sunlight glinting off water, boats bobbing gently in the ocean—but she has been too busy to enjoy them.
She has been too busy to do a lot of things she enjoyed, she has started to realize, things that once upon a time, before she became a wife and mother, fed her soul.
Painting, for one. She hasn’t painted for years, but right before she packed, when she was sorting out her office, she found a tiny travel watercolor kit. She put it in her case, and bought a small pad of watercolor paper to go with it.
She used to listen to music all the time before she was married. She would turn it up loud when she was alone in her apartment at night, and dance, sometimes for hours. She remembers calling it the soundtrack to her life: Neil Young when she was a teenager, Joni Mitchell and Cat Stevens when she went away to school.
Why is it that the soundtrack to her life stopped on the day she got married?
She has started listening to music again. Pouring herself a glass of wine and soaking in a hot bubble bath, Jack Johnson crooning softly as she tips her head forward to take a sip, reveling in having to be nowhere else, having to do nothing for anyone else, for the rest of the night.
But she misses Jess. Oh how she misses Jess. Not the Jess of late, the truculent, angry, hostile teenager, but her lovely little girl, her sunny, warm, clever Jess, a Jess she knows is still hiding somewhere deep inside.
Better though, for now, that Jess is with her dad. Perhaps they both need this break from one another. Daff doesn’t see this move as permanent, and has a strong suspicion that Jess will be on the phone soon, begging to come home. And perhaps then they will find their feet again, will be able to be mother and daughter again, friends and allies instead of enemies. She met up with Carrie and liked her, understanding that someone like Carrie might be good for Jess, and this is just a trial after all, it doesn’t have to last long, just long enough for her to regain her equilibrium.
Nantucket is a well-deserved break, a time during which both Daff and Jess will be able to heal. She has her watercolors in her bag, a burner, and a CD of meditations that she hasn’t listened to for at least ten years, maybe longer.
This is a place to be reborn, she thinks, curling up tighter and hugging her knees. It feels as if a weight has been lifted, as if she can start again, and what a special, magical house to have found.
Everything does happen for a reason after all, she thinks.
“Should we go into the living room?” Nan keeps asking, topping up everyone’s wine glass. “Sarah cleaned in there especially. I really think we ought to be sitting in there.”
“Mom, relax.” Michael smiles at her, taking the bottle out of her somewhat unsteady hand and pouring the wine himself. “Everyone’s happy in the kitchen, and it’s lovely in here. We’ll use the living room another time.”
She smiles at him. “You’re right.” And she lowers her voice to a whisper. “So what do you think of the new tenant?”
Michael looks over at Daff, who is standing next to Daniel at the stove as he fries the crab cakes, asking him quiet questions about his cooking.
“She seems nice,” he says. “But sad.”
“I think so too.” Nan nods. “Terribly nice and probably on a journey to happiness herself.”
“What’s her story? Do you know?”
“Divorced. Single mother. Daughter staying with the father and girlfriend, and I think this is the first time she’s had for herself in years. I rather think she’s slightly lost, doesn’t know what to do with herself. Perhaps you’ll take her and show her the island tomorrow? I think she’d love it.”
“Mom?” Michael says warningly, shaking his head with a groan. “Please tell me you’re not matchmaking again?”
“Whatever do you mean?” Nan is shocked.
“I love you, Mom, and I know you. You always used to try to set me up with everyone.”
“I did not!” She is mock appalled.
“What are you two talking about?” Daniel finishes off frying the crab cakes and he and Daff wander over.
“Michael’s accusing me of matchmaking him with everyone,” Nan says indignantly.
“She did!” Michael laughs. “Whenever she found any single women on the island, she automatically told them about her son and I’d come home and find strangers waiting for me on the porch.”
“Some of them were lovely,” Nan says. “You dated one or two.”
“One or two out of one or two hundred. That’s not exactly a good track record.”
“Sounds like you were interviewing for the position,” Daff says, turning to Nan and laughing.
“I was but we never did find the right candidate, did we?” She arches an eyebrow and revolves her head slowly to give Michael a mock glare.
“Speak for yourself,” Michael says, as his cell phone begins to ring, again, from the corner of the kitchen.
“Darling,” Nan says crossly, “that thing’s been ringing all afternoon. Can’t you turn it off?”
“I’m sorry, Mom. I thought I had.” He goes over to the phone and picks it up to look at the number flashing on the screen. Jordana. Again. The sixth time she’s called in the last two hours. There are a string of messages, but he stopped listening after the first two. Her first was full of tears, her second full of rage.
There is nothing he can say to make it better, to make it different, and he cannot help but feel an overwhelming relief that he got out when he did. Hopefully, if he just lies low and stays unavailable, she will realize that there is no going back, will finally be able to move on.
He presses the button to turn the phone off, this time checking that it is actually off, and drops the phone in a drawer. He hates cell phones anyway, and certainly doesn’t need one now. A disastrous love affair that has led to no job, no social plans to make—why on earth does he need to look at this constant reminder of the way he has f*cked up his life?
He closes the drawer softly and goes over to his mother. “Shall we sit down?” he whispers in her ear. “I’m starving.”
“This is bizarre,” Daff says, helping Nan clear the dishes. “I feel incredibly comfortable here. It feels like I’m having dinner with people I’ve known for years.”
“It’s Windermere,” Michael says. “Seriously. It’s the house. It was always like this when I was growing up. I’d forgotten how it does that to people.”
“He’s right,” Nan adds. “This house brings people together.”
“So much so I’ve barely seen the island,” Daniel says. “I’ve been here a week and I’ve hardly left this house, other than when I’m with the girls.”
“Is there stuff for them to do here?”
“Are you kidding? Tons! Fishing, boating, ice cream. It doesn’t get better than this. And I’ve been taking them to crafts at the whaling museum most afternoons. They love it. Your daughter should come out. I think this is a great place for kids.”
“She’s not really a kid anymore,” Daff says. “She’s thirteen. She’d probably think crafts at a museum ‘Like, ohmyGod, suck.’ ” Daff does an accurate impersonation of a surly teenager and Nan smiles.
“A tough age,” Nan says. “Michael was relatively easy but I had lots of friends with daughters who turned into horrors as teenagers. They came back, though. All of them grew up to be best friends with their mothers.”
“I hope so,” Daff says, and the sadness in her eyes as she looks away is undeniable.
“Michael, why don’t you show Daff some of the island tomorrow? ” Nan suggests, breaking the discomfort, and Daff starts to laugh.
“This isn’t one of your famous fix-ups, is it? Because if it is, you need to work on your subtlety.”
“Subtlety’s never been one of Mom’s strong points.” Michael grins. “But don’t worry, I’m strictly unavailable.”
“You are?” Nan turns to him in horror. “Is there something you should be telling me?”
“Just that after this last relationship, I’m taking a break. Seriously. No more dating for me for a year. I need to get my life back in order before I even think about sharing it with anyone else.”
“Hear, hear!” Daff raises her glass in a salute. “I agree. My forays into the dating world have also been disastrous. Right now I just need to find myself again.”
Daniel clears his throat. “I’m not quite sure how to tell you this, but I need to get it out of the way. I . . .” He stops, unsure why he is telling them when he hasn’t even told his wife, but this feels easier, confessing to people who don’t know him as a husband and father, as a family man, confessing to people who know him simply as Daniel, who won’t judge him in the same way. “The reason my marriage broke up,” he continues, “is that I’m gay.”
There’s an awkward silence.
“Congratulations?” Michael says, and Daff laughs.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” she apologizes quickly. “I just don’t know what to say. I mean, I assumed you were.”
“That’s terrible!” Daniel says. “Everyone keeps assuming I’m gay now that I’m no longer with my wife. How is it that no one ever thought I was gay while I was married and now everyone does?”
Nan lays a hand on his arm. “I suspect it won’t be as much of a surprise to other people as you might think, and that’s not a bad thing. Think of all the things you have to look forward to, a life in which you no longer have to keep secrets.”
“It’s the one thing I try to keep thinking of,” Daniel says. “The one thing that keeps me going. That, and my daughters. Obviously.”
“Will we meet them?” Daff says.
“Absolutely. They’ll be here tomorrow. Bee’s dropping them off at four.”
“Bee?”
“My ex. And she doesn’t know yet so don’t say anything. Please.” He sighs deeply. “I know it’s wrong, telling you before I tell her, but I’m so scared of telling her, and every time I say those words out loud it becomes a little less scary.”
“We understand,” Nan says gently, and looking around at each of them, Daniel feels a huge sense of relief, for he can see that it’s true.
“Tell me about the girls,” Daff says, changing the subject, sensing it becoming difficult for him. “Jess was so adorable when she was little, I miss it still.”
Daniel’s face lights up as he tells her all about Lizzie and Stella.