“What?”
“He thought I should sleep on it! Sleep! He said maybe I didn’t understand the whole picture. And I told him, ‘Yes, I do. And what’s more, Harris understands the picture. Harris is cutting ties.’ And George said he just thought maybe there were circumstances I hadn’t considered, and I shouldn’t do anything rash. In other words, he said exactly what my own dad said.”
“That’s garbage.”
“So I said he was being terrible, George was, and I said that he should back me up. And George was like, ‘Let’s be rational about this, Yardley. You don’t know that your dad has done anything wrong.’ And I said, ‘Do you not love me if I walk away from my money?’ And he said, ‘Yardley, that’s not it. You’re not thinking straight.’ And I said, ‘I think you’re not my boyfriend anymore.’?”
“God.”
“Yeah. And then apparently we had to have about two hours of crying and talking and him saying I was being unreasonable. I said I’d take him back if he’d come with me in the morning when I left and not question me. Like, he didn’t have to agree with me, he just had to come along and keep his mouth shut. But George said it was impossible for him not to say what he thought. And I was like, ‘I can’t believe you care about my money,’ even though actually, I can totally believe it. Then I didn’t want to sleep in Pevensie with my dad and I didn’t want to sleep in Goose with George. So I packed up my stuff and brought it down to the dock in the middle of the night. I slept in the den at Clairmont and talked to Tipper in the morning.”
* * *
—
WE PULL INTO the dock at Woods Hole. I help Erin and Yardley with their bags. Yardley’s car is waiting for her. We hug goodbye.
There is more to say, but we don’t say it.
I will miss her very much.
She is gone in minutes.
I walk Erin to collect her bus ticket and wait at the depot with her in silence.
50.
THE NEXT DAY, Gerrard drives Uncle Dean and Tomkin off the island. They will not be back.
Many years later, I will learn that my father paid for Yardley’s college when she would not take Dean’s money. And that he engaged our family lawyer, Richard Thatcher, to help buy Dean out of his half of the island property.
Pevensie will lie empty for some years.
When I marry William Dennis, my father will clear some land and build a house for me. William and I will name it Red Gate, for its dusty red picket fence and trim.
Around the same time, Harris will tear down Pevensie and rebuild on its foundation, naming the new house Windemere. He’ll give Windemere to Penny, who marries Sam Easton around the same time. For Bess, marrying Brody Sheffield a year later, our father tears down Goose to build Cuddledown.
Eventually, it will seem to me and my sisters as if Windemere has always been there, at the north end of Beechwood Island.
We won’t even feel the echoes of Pevensie, won’t ever think about what might have been. We will forget to miss Tomkin and Yardley, forget that their children would have run down the walkways with ours.
51.
ON MY RETURN from Woods Hole, I go to my room, pretending to have a headache. I stay there through the evening. Tipper brings me supper on a pretty tray.
She tells me the boys have asked to stay a few more days despite Yardley’s absence. They need time to make arrangements for the rest of their summer. “None of them want to go home to their parents,” she says. “They imagine themselves independent here, though of course it’s Luda doing their laundry.” George and Major might work as last-minute August summer camp counselors, she says. “At that camp they used to go to.” They’re making calls. Pfeff will probably go visit some cousins. “I know you’ll miss him very much,” she tells me. “I hope you feel better soon so you can enjoy your last days together.”
It is the first time she’s mentioned Pfeff to me.
She thinks we’re still together.
I nod and don’t correct her. I can’t tell her what’s happened. I can’t be the complainer Bess accused me of being; can’t tell on Penny. I can’t be my messy, miserable self when my mother wants her “good girl.”
And I do miss Pfeff.
I think: Maybe he will come to my room any minute and beg my forgiveness. Maybe I will be able to forgive him. Maybe he will say he loves me and have a reason for what he did. He will listen to me, truly listen.
But he does not come.
I also think: Penny will knock on my door for certain, ashamed and sorry and ready with a real apology and promises of loyalty. Bess will come, worried and loving. She will take my side and cheer me up with frivolities and cookies she’s baked.
But another day goes by.
I stay in my room.
I want to talk it all out with my sisters, have them be righteous on my behalf, have them hate forever the person who betrayed me, have them hate forever the person who accused me of being selfish, have them make me laugh and distract me.
But maybe we were never that kind of sisters.
And they are the ones who have done me wrong.
So I return to thinking about Pfeff. He must want to talk. How could he tell me his secrets and undress in front of me and hold my hand and tell me how much he wants me—and feel no remorse for his betrayal? It is impossible. We are enmeshed.
Time after time, I put blush on my cheeks, comb my hair, and walk out my door to go talk to him. I feel I can’t rest until I hear what he has to say about it all.
Time after time, I stop at the top of the stairs and return to my room.
It doesn’t matter, I tell myself.
But it does.
I spend my time reading novels and talking to Rosemary. She wants to paint her nails, try Bess’s curling iron. She makes up a song about scones.
Scones are worse than muffins Scones are worse than English muffins Scones are blobs of dough
Let’s make a law against scones
She teaches me a “famous dance” that she claims cheerleaders do. I pretend to be joyful for her, through my fog of misery over Pfeff and Penny, Yardley and Uncle Dean, my father and Buddy Kopelnick. I want to show my sister how much I love her. Help her be at peace. I love that she is here, but it doesn’t seem right that she should haunt me forever. She must be searching for a way to rest. And yet I don’t know that I really want her to go, even if that’s what’s best for her. Right now, she is all I have.
* * *
—
THREE DAYS AFTER Yardley’s departure, I have had enough. It is afternoon and I am cooped up in this hot room, sweltering and festering while Lor Pfefferman lives free and easy. There is a clambake tonight, down on the beach. There will be corn on the cob and potatoes cooked in the fire. Clams and lobsters, melted butter. Strawberry shortcake up at the house afterward.
This is my home. Pfeff doesn’t get to eat my strawberry shortcake without facing up to what he’s done.
I go downstairs, my hands shaking. I will not hide any longer. I’ll talk to him, and then I will hold my head high and take my place in the world of this island.
52.
THE KITCHEN IS empty except for Luda, who is wiping down the inside of the fridge.
No one is in the living room.
Outside, Bess shucks corn on the steps. I ignore her as I go past.
From the walkway, I can see Penny and my parents down on the Big Beach, building the fire for the clambake.
I head to Goose.
I want an explanation. I deserve one.
I want Pfeff to understand—really understand—how much he hurt me. I want to see his regret and his shame.
The boys aren’t at Goose, they’re at the Tiny Beach. Major is lying on his abdomen in the sand, reading the Armistead Maupin book Pfeff bought for him. George and Pfeff are in the water.
I stand at the bottom of the steps, looking at the scene. I feel righteous and shy.