Chance Harbor (25 page)

“No. I didn’t know that.”

Willow had read a description in some book about color draining from a person’s face, but she’d never actually seen it happen. Now she did: Russell turned as white as the bench they were sitting on, as if he’d been transformed into stone, too.

She felt a little zing of fear. What if he had a heart attack and keeled over? She didn’t even know CPR! Probably Carmen did. Carmen seemed to know how to do everything. Just yesterday she’d gotten a wine stain out of the carpet and made a chicken casserole that looked like it should be in a magazine.

Russell ran his hand through his hair. It was getting grayer, Willow noticed. Probably because he couldn’t keep up with Nola in bed. Gross. “What do you know about this guy?”

“Not much. His name is Seth. He seems cool.”

“Is he nice?”

“I don’t know,” Willow said, then relented: she could only torture Russell for so long. He was too easy. “I’ve only met him once. He came by the house a couple of nights ago to borrow a cookbook, and I was in the kitchen doing homework. I haven’t had an actual conversation with him or anything like that.”

“Oh. Well. I hope things are going well for her,” Russell said. “Catherine deserves every happiness.”

She did, Willow thought. And yet they were both cheating on her: Russell with Nola, and her with Zoe. She felt her cheeks go hot with shame.

Russell stood up and slapped his hands on his knees. “Well. I’m glad we had this little talk. Aren’t you?”

“Sure.”

“What do you want to do now? Want to play a game or something?”

Willow rolled her eyes. “You know you don’t have to entertain me every minute, right? You could go work on your book or something.”

Russell got this faraway look. “My book. Right. I’m actually a bit stalled on the manuscript at the moment. And I don’t get to see you very often. Our time together should be extra special.”

He leaned forward, putting his face so close that Willow could smell coffee. “I know you think I’m a shitty dad and a loser,” he said.

Before Willow could come up with a response—as if there were anything to say to that but “yeah, duh” unless she lied again—Nola flew into the courtyard, her hair flying everywhere, her eyes big and dark. “You have to come!” she said, tugging on Russell’s sleeve.

“Why? What is it?” Russell pulled her close. “Take a breath. Remember that stress is bad for the baby.”

She jerked away. “The baby’s fine. I’m the one who’s not. Dad’s here!”

“Your father? Here in the house?”

“Yes!” Nola was whimpering. “I told Daddy not to come over, but he never listens.”

Russell’s face had gone white again. “Does he want to see me?”

“I don’t know,” Nola said. “He just started shouting at me, so I ran.”

Willow stood up. She was curious to meet this guy who hadn’t even taught his daughter to play Monopoly. Who apparently thought it was perfectly okay to let an eighteen-year-old girl live alone in a house after her mom died, screw one of her teachers, and have his baby. He was an even worse parent than Zoe when she was high.

“Oh no,” Russell said, pushing Willow’s shoulder so she’d sit back down. “You stay here. This could get ugly.”

“This is
already
plenty ugly,” said the man standing in the doorway. “One ugly family.” He gestured with his chin to Willow. “Your daughter, I presume?”

“Watch yourself. Nobody wants you here, Bill,” Russell said, stepping in front of Nola and Willow. “Turn around and go home.”

“Nobody wanted you to mess around with my daughter, either,” Bill said. “Yet you couldn’t help yourself. You fucked up her life. You know how much I’ve spent on private school and therapy and clothes for this kid? Hundreds of thousands! All down the toilet because you couldn’t keep your prick in your pants.”

Willow’s armpits were tingling with fear. Bill was built like a square, his hips as wide as his shoulders. He wore a knee-length yellow wool coat and big rings on his fingers. His head was almost bald, and his ears stuck out like handles.

“Guess I’d better go do homework,” she said. “You want to come, Nola?”

Nola nodded and stepped toward the door, but her father grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back. Meanwhile, Bill’s eyes moved up and down Willow’s body. It felt like bugs were crawling all over her. Or Tom’s fingers.

“You stay right here, girls,” Bill said, still looking at Willow. “You’re a fine little package. Maybe we should double date. Tit for tat, Russell? You can get it on with my daughter while your girl and I hook up.”

“Don’t you dare speak about my daughter that way,” Russell said.

Bill laughed, tipping his head back far enough for Willow to see his silver fillings. “Right. Like you’re on moral high ground, buddy.” He looked at Willow again. “What do you say,
sweetheart
? Want to have dinner with me tonight, since my own damn kid won’t have anything to do with me? I could show you the town. It’s a pretty nice place, Boston, as long as you’ve got money. And a job.” He flicked a glance at Russell and stepped toward Willow.

She froze in place, panicked, but Russell charged him like a bull, head down. Bill sidestepped almost in time, but Russell caught him on the shoulder and the two men toppled into the shrubs.

“Dad, stop!” Willow screamed, just as Nola yelled, “Dad! Stop it, damn it!”

The two girls looked at each other, and Willow was startled to see Nola mirroring her across the courtyard, mouth open in shock. Then Nola stepped forward, grabbed Willow’s hand, and tugged her over to the faucet and hose on the other side of the courtyard.

The men were still scuffling on the ground, Bill on top and trying to punch Russell’s head. Willow ran over and leaped onto Bill’s back, trying to pin his arms, but he shook her off. Finally, Nola managed to unfurl the black hose, and she turned it on full blast, aiming the water at her father.

“Jesus Christ!” Bill yelped, and covered his face.

In an instant, Russell was out from under him, scrambling to his feet, dripping and shouting.

Bill held up both hands. “All right, all right. Shut off the friggin’ water! I can take a hint. I’m outta here.”

“I’ll show you the door,” Russell said, his face red and determined.

The two of them disappeared into the house. Nola looked at Willow and shook her head. “Sorry about my dad. He’s only half human.” She smoothed her hair, shivering a little, and started to cry.

Willow went to her and towed Nola by the arm into the kitchen. Carmen was already gone for the day, so Willow rummaged around until she found some instant hot chocolate packets and two mugs. She dumped the packets into the mugs, added water, microwaved the drinks and brought the chocolate to the table after stirring it. She set one mug in front of Nola, who was drying herself off with a dish towel but still trembling.

“Thanks.” Nola had stopped crying, but her eyes and nose were red. “You’re as nice as your dad.”

“My mom’s even nicer,” Willow said, but this time she was thinking of Catherine when she said “mom,” not Zoe. She had no idea if Zoe was nice. A weird thing not to know about your own mother.

“Lucky you.” Nola cupped her hands around the hot chocolate.

She looked so miserable that Willow blurted out the truth. “Actually, my real mom isn’t that nice. She’s kind of screwed up. You haven’t met her. Only Catherine.”

“Where is your mom, anyway?”

“Nobody knows,” Willow said hastily, wary now. Zoe had made her promise not to tell anyone that she was back in Boston.

Besides, Willow had no idea if Zoe even planned to stick around. Zoe didn’t seem to know, either. Which totally sucked. Nana should know that Zoe was alive, at least.

“How do you know your real mom’s not nice, if she’s not around?” Nola asked.

“I lived with her until I was ten,” Willow said. “She did drugs. And she hooked up with some pretty creepy guys. Guys way worse than your dad, I bet.”

“Doubt it.” Nola made a face. “My dad belongs in jail. Anyway, at least you have Catherine and Russell, and they seem to really care about you.”

“They’re okay. Why do you say your dad should be in jail?”

Nola bit her bottom lip. “He’s a prick,” she said. “A perv. A self-absorbed asshole even when Mom was dying. Good thing we had Carmen.”

“He seems pretty mad about Russell. He probably thinks he took advantage of you.”

“That’s what all men think when an older guy gets involved with a younger woman,” Nola said, lifting her chin. “But I am so not a victim. I had a crush on Russell starting junior year.”

Ew,
Willow thought.
Gross. “
It didn’t bother you that he was married?”

“I never really thought about it, because I never thought anything would actually happen,” Nola said. “I know that sounds stupid, but it’s true. Your dad didn’t want anything to do with me at first. I pretty much had to throw myself at him for two years before he knew I existed.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.” This was the least damning thing Willow could think to say.

“Duh. I know.” Nola stared down at the mug between her hands. “Basically, I wasn’t thinking. I was just, I don’t know.
Being
. I didn’t actually mean to get pregnant. Now I’m sorry. Sorry as shit. Not because I don’t love your dad and want a baby—I really do—but because now I know you, and I can see that I fucked up your life. And I can say I’m sorry over and over, but that won’t really change anything, will it?”

Willow had to work to keep her mouth closed, she was so shocked by Nola’s admission and by the fact that she was actually starting to feel a little sorry for her. “No. But you didn’t do this alone, remember. Russell helped get you pregnant. And he obviously loves you.”

“You think so?” Nola whispered, swallowing hard.

“I do think that,” Willow said, even though she wasn’t absolutely sure.

“Thanks. Still. I would take it all back if I could.” Nola looked like she might start crying again. But she took a sip of hot chocolate and made a face. “Ow. That’s really friggin’ hot.”

“Because it’s
hot
chocolate,” Willow said.

And then both of them were laughing.

•   •   •

It was too early to check into their rooms, but Darcy and Eve dropped off their luggage at the inn. Eve wandered alone around the small town of Baddeck during Darcy’s meeting, feeling strangely exhilarated to be here. Instead of remembering only the sorrow and confusion she’d felt, waving to Andrew as he’d wept on the dock, now she was thinking about how liberated she’d felt, too, coming here with Catherine, as if she’d put an entire country between herself and Andrew and the mess their marriage had become. She was happy today. Perhaps that was enough.

On impulse, she bought Darcy a few birthday presents: a green plaid scarf, a wedge of cheese, a small bottle of whiskey distilled on Cape Breton. Then she walked down to the lake, admiring its shoreline and the way the hills and boats were reflected in the water.

Eve watched a bald eagle swooping down from the surrounding hills to fish, still thinking about how different this felt from her last trip here, when she’d been alone with Catherine and in such turmoil. She’d been so sure she was going to leave Andrew, despite Malcolm’s death.

When she returned from Cape Breton, however, her mind made up, Andrew had managed to talk her into staying with him. “Nobody said marriage would be easy,” he’d said. “What I did to you by being with Marta was unspeakably hurtful. I know that. It’s understandable that you felt compelled to turn to someone else. But I’m wholly committed to you, to Catherine, and to our marriage. Please. Give me a second chance, Eve. You won’t regret it.”

Eve had finally given in with equal parts relief and disappointment and said she’d stay with him. She did it mainly because it seemed unfair to deprive two children of a loving father when she could come up with no better alternative for their lives together. And she’d been happy with Andrew again, eventually.

Now, as she remembered Marta’s recent mysterious call, Eve shivered in the breeze. She had stayed the course of her marriage and had believed that Andrew would remain faithful to her as well. Obviously, he hadn’t been—and probably not for a long time. She’d been such a fool. Maybe that was the worst revelation of all.

Eve’s mood was glum when Darcy returned, but he quickly cheered her up. He was in good spirits because he’d convinced one of the farmers who owned a tract of land in the hills above Baddeck to install an experimental wind farm. Besides, as they drove out of town and toward the national park, the scenery became more breathtaking with every passing mile and took her mind off everything else.

She had never made it past Baddeck with Catherine. Now, as they proceeded along the winding coastal highway toward the village of Ingonish on the Atlantic side of the island, Eve found herself nearly speechless as the mountains rose above the sea, eventually so steep that it seemed like the road was an afterthought between the rocky beaches and a solid wall of forest.

“We’re not actually going to hike up there, are we?” she asked, pointing.

Darcy grinned. “Whose birthday is it?”

“Oh, all right, party boy. As long as you’re prepared to carry me partway.”

He waggled his eyebrows at her. “I’d carry you anywhere.”

She laughed and turned her face back to the window.

Past Ingonish, they pulled into a parking lot and started up a trail that led up into the mountains. It had been cold the night before; the frozen grass crackled beneath Eve’s feet. In several especially steep legs of the trail, wooden staircases had been built over the rocks.

It was eerily quiet as they paralleled a river meandering down the mountain. The water was iced over in places, glistening silver, but Eve could hear the rush of a distant waterfall. At one point she brushed against a pine tree and smiled when the branches sprinkled tiny ice flakes over her, a sudden miniature snowstorm.

She glanced above her now and then, hoping to see the trail finally flatten out around each corner. Despite her steady running habit, she grew increasingly winded as she followed Darcy, who kept up his chatter even though his backpack was big enough to carry a calf.