Love Finds You in Martha's Vineyard (33 page)

“Mom will be relieved to hear that.” Sicily laughed as she kicked her feet in the water, splashing it up on his legs. “Especially since she says traffic jams are hell.”

“Right.” Now he kicked his feet, splashing her back. Before long they were both thoroughly dampened and standing on the dock, looking out over the lake.

“So if Vivian dies…” Sicily paused, then let out a long sigh. “I mean,
when
she dies, she'll be in a really good place. Right, Daddy?”

“That's what I believe. And that's what Vivian believes too.”

“But we'll still miss her.”

“Yeah. We will.” He slipped his arm back around her shoulders again.

“But she'll be happy.”

“I think so, honey.” He gave her another squeeze. “I really do.”

Nicely cooled from their impromptu splash fest, they rode their bikes over to the Island Alpaca Farm. After that, they stopped by the Black Dog for a very late lunch, followed by two rounds of mini golf at Island Cove. Finally they biked over to Mad Martha's for ice cream, which they took to the beach to eat.

“Maybe we could stop by The Gallery on our way home,” Sicily suggested in a tentative tone as they were finishing up their cones. “Not just to play video games,” she said quickly, “but so you can see the mural, Daddy.”

“Sounds good.”

She seemed surprised that he agreed so easily. As if she didn't know what would make him so eager to go hang out in a video arcade. Naturally, that made him want to explain some things to her. So, as they walked back across the sand, toward where their bikes were locked together on a pole, he made his attempt.

“Remember when you thought Janice was my girlfriend?” he began cautiously.

“Yeah. But then you said you didn't like her, Dad. Did you change your mind again already?”

“No, of course not. I never changed my mind in the first place, Sicily. To me Janice was only a friend. That was all. You do understand that, don't you?”

“I guess so. But last night, after you and Janice left for the party, Louise was talking about your wedding and how great it would be—”

“My wedding?” He groaned.

“Louise thinks you're going to marry Janice,” she declared.

“Well, that's totally ridiculous.”

“Vivian tried to tell her that. But Louise wouldn't listen.”

“Is that why you thought Vivian and Louise had had a fight?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you know why Vivian doesn't agree with Louise? I mean, about me getting married to Janice?”

“Because she knows you don't like Janice that much?”

“Yes. And also because she knows I like someone else much better.”

“You mean Waverly?”

He tried not to look surprised. “As a matter of fact, I do mean Waverly.”

“Do you like Waverly enough to marry her, Daddy?”

“What would you think if I did?”

He shot a glance her way. Seeing her perplexed expression, as if she were deep in thought, he waited.

“I don't know,” she finally said.

“Oh.” He was stumped now. “But I thought you really liked Waverly. I thought we all agreed we could all three be friends. Remember?”

“Yeah. Being friends is not the problem, Daddy.”

“So, tell me, what is the problem?”

She stopped walking and turned to look at him. “Do you promise not to laugh?”

“Absolutely.” He held up his hand like a pledge. “I give you my word.”

“Well, I always hope that you and Mommy will get married again.”

“Oh.” He felt blindsided by that one. “Really?”

“Yeah. But every time I say that to Mommy, she laughs.”

“That's probably because your mom is already married, Sicily.” He noticed a bench near the sidewalk and, taking Sicily's hand, led her over to sit down.

“I know.” She sat down and focused on her lap.

“As far as I know, your mom and Gregory don't have any plans to get unmarried.” He sat down beside her, turning toward her and studying her sweet pixie-like face. Her eyelashes brushed over her flushed cheeks ,and there was a smudge of chunky-monkey ice cream on her upper lip. The Band-Aid on her elbow was hanging halfway off. Suddenly she looked so small and young and slightly helpless. Even the purple streak in her hair suggested neglect or insecurity or something else he couldn't quite peg. He felt a lump in his throat, wondering why he hadn't seen her like this before.

“But what if they
did,
Dad? What if Mommy and Gregory got divorced? I've heard Mommy say she's going to divorce him—you know, when they're in the middle of a really bad fight, and they don't know I'm listening.” She stared up at him with defiant blue eyes.

“People say things they don't mean when they're fighting, Sicily. You know that, don't you?”

“Yeah, I guess so. But what if they really did get divorced, Daddy? It could happen. Olivia Martin's parents did that. They got divorced, and then they got married again. It really does happen sometimes. Would you marry Mommy again?”

“I don't…I, uh, I don't…” He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to hurt her any more than she'd already been hurt, and he wished he could undo all that had been done—make her life perfect somehow. Sicily deserved perfect. But how was that even possible?

Her eyes brightened now. “And then you and me and Mommy could all live together in the same house.”

He thought hard about this. He knew this was simply a child's perspective, trying to put back together what had been broken so she could have what she wanted—her two parents living happily together under one roof. But he also knew that Sicily didn't know all that had transpired, back when she was too little to understand such things. Sicily had no idea of everything her mother had done to destroy their marriage. Not that Blake didn't blame himself too. He did. For years he'd gone over it again and again, wishing he'd done it differently. If only he'd been less focused on work and more attentive to his wife. Then maybe Gia wouldn't have gone looking for attention from others. But even as he took that blame, he knew that their marriage had probably been doomed from the start. But what do you tell a nine-year-old?

He took in a deep breath. “You know, Sicily, if this were a perfect world, and I wish it were a perfect world—kind of like heaven will be someday—but if it was, I'd say,
sure,
your mom and I could get back together. To be honest, there's a part of me that still wishes that could happen, in a perfect world.”

As his voice trailed off, her countenance fell, but he knew he had to continue. He had to help her understand this. “You see, this isn't a perfect world, sweetie. Like we wish Vivian wasn't sick, that she could live for a long time. I know you wish your parents could be happily married to each other. We all wish we lived in a perfect world. But we don't. Not until we get to heaven anyway.”

“So you're saying you and Mommy won't get married again?”

“I honestly don't think it's possible. Mommy chose to marry Gregory. That's just the way it is.”

“Yeah, I figured you'd say something like that.”

“Really?”

She let out a deep, sad sigh and stood up. “We should go, Dad.”

He stood too, but he wasn't ready to end this conversation. “So do Gregory and your mom fight a lot?”

She shrugged but started to walk toward where the bikes were parked. “Sometimes they do. But they both were a lot happier when Mommy got that part in the new series. Gregory helped her to get it too.”

“I'll bet your mom appreciated that a lot too.” Blake knew that had been one of the main reasons Gia had been attracted to Gregory in the first place. “Your mom's been trying to get on a show for a while now. She sounded pretty thrilled.”

“Yeah, she was.” Sicily's voice still sounded sad. Sad and a bit lost.

He stopped by the bikes, bent down to unlock them. But before they got on them, he put a hand on her shoulder. “Can I ask you a question now?”

“I guess so.”

“I know this world isn't heaven,” he began slowly, “and nothing will ever be perfectly perfect down here. But if you could have it your way—I mean, except for your mom and me being remarried—what would you want, Sicily? In regard to things like where you live, or who you live with…like would you want me to move back to California so we could spend more time together there?”

“No, I like it here, Dad. I like your house, and it's fun doing stuff with you. Like today. And I like Martha's Vineyard a lot.”

“Really?” He felt relieved. “I thought you hated it at first.”

“I know. But that was just an act.” She held her bike by the handlebars now, slowly walking it along the sidewalk.

Encouraged, he walked alongside her. “So you wouldn't mind coming out here from time to time to visit your old man then?”

She seemed to be thoughtfully considering this as they paused to wait for traffic.

Then it was safe to cross, but still she didn't answer him. They continued to walk their bikes down a side street. Soon they would be at The Gallery, where he knew this conversation would end. To his dismay, Sicily seemed to want it to end right now, because she was not talking. He considered pressing her for her answer, but it was too late. Sicily, two steps ahead of him, was already parking her bike in the bike stand outside of The Gallery.

He followed her lead and, although she said it was unnecessary, he locked their bikes together. Then she ran eagerly to the door of the arcade, opening it, then waiting for him, holding it for him like a miniature doorman.

“Hey, I'm supposed to be the one to open the doors for you,” he reminded her.

“Sorry, but hurry up,” she commanded. “I can't wait for you to see it.”

Before she let him go inside, she insisted he close his eyes and let her lead him to the perfect viewing spot. Feeling a little silly and somewhat conspicuous, he agreed, closing his eyes and holding her hand as she led him like a blind man past several noisy video games.

“Okay,” she said. “Open your eyes now.”

He opened his eyes and was quite impressed. “Hey, that's really good, Sicily.” He nodded with approval. “You're a very talented artist.”

“Well, you know, Waverly helped too.”

“But you were the one who came up with the idea,” he reminded her. “You put a lot of hard work into it, Sicily. Don't sell yourself short.”

“Yeah. That's true.” She nodded. “I learned a lot about painting too.”

Now she began pointing things out to him. As he saw the sparkle returning to her eyes and heard the enthusiasm in her voice, he knew this experience had been about a lot more than just painting a mural. Thanks to Waverly, Sicily's confidence and self-esteem had blossomed during the past couple weeks.

“Can we go upstairs and say hi to Waverly?” she asked. “And Vivian too?”

“I…uh…I don't know.” He glanced over to the doorway that led to the upstairs.

“
Please,
Dad.”

“How about if you go up and say hi, sweetie. I'll wait down here.”

“All right.” And
zip,
she was gone. He was a little disappointed that she hadn't pressed him harder since he really wanted to see Waverly. Instead he walked around and scrutinized the arcade more closely, noticing how the freshly painted walls brightened the place up nicely. It was thinned out in there too. Some of the machines had been removed or rearranged, clearing an open space over by the counter. All in all, it was much more pleasant.

“Hey, you.” Waverly came up from behind him. “What are you doing here? Want to buy some tokens?”

“Sicily insisted we stop by.” He smiled as he took her in, those auburn curls pinned loosely up from her neck, her ocean eyes, sweet smile—he hoped he wasn't staring. “Uh, she wanted me to see the completed mural.”

“So what do you think?”

“I think The Gallery is starting to look more like a real gallery.”

She laughed. “I wouldn't go that far, but it is an improvement.” She glanced around. “Where's Sicily?”

“She went upstairs to see you.”

“Oh. Well, Vivian's up there. Maybe they're visiting.” She held up a brown bag. “Dinner.”

“Don't let us keep you from it.”

“It's all right. We're just having soup tonight. I think Vivian's still recuperating from that whole hospital thing.”

“Yes, I can imagine.” He looked directly into her eyes—then had to control himself for saying what he really wanted to say.
Not here. Not now. Give her time and space. Don't overwhelm her again. “
So are you and Vivian having some good visits?”

“Actually, we are. It's been a great day.”

“Sicily was worried that Louise and Vivian had been in a fight.”

“A fight?” Waverly laughed. “No, not at all. I just wanted to spend some time with Vivian…alone. So I offered to bring her over here for some peace and quiet—you know, some mother-daughter time. Plus, I guess Janice was in a bit of a huff today. Anyway, Vivian was perfectly happy to get away.”

“I can imagine.” He grinned wryly. “Truth is, I've been avoiding being home too.”

“Worried that Hurricane Janice will come breezing by?”

“A little. Mostly for Sicily's sake.” He sighed. “I assume Janice still plans to stick around until after the Fourth?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Well, that's understandable. But I thought Sicily and I might run over to Edgartown tomorrow to see the parade and maybe the fireworks later in the evening.” He smiled at her. “Do you think you'd want to come with us?”

Her eyes lit up. “That sounds really fun!” Then, a second later, her expression changed. “Well, except I hate leaving Vivian like that—even for a day. I can't tell her, of course. She'd read me the riot act and tell me to live my life or even threaten to go live her last days somewhere else.”