Summer with My Sisters (34 page)

“S
o she was never in foster care, like she first told you,” Joel said. “And she wasn’t almost raped by some friend of her father’s she was staying with. And thank God for that! There was no friend in the first place. And she’s not eighteen. She’s only sixteen. Violet was right about that.”

Daisy and Joel were in the sunroom at the house on Willow Way, trying to make sense of all that had happened since they had befriended a girl named Evie Jones.

“And her father isn’t an alcoholic,” Daisy added. “He got addicted to pain meds after the accident and all the operations on his legs. And her mother never had cancer.”

“How did she keep it all straight? All the different stories.”

“I don’t know. I keep thinking that if I had paid closer attention to what she was telling us I might have seen the truth under all the lies.”

“But how? No, don’t blame yourself, Daisy. Look, I’m sorry I was so angry with you for telling Poppy that Evie—I mean, Sophie—was using a phony ID. I realize now it was the right thing to do.”

“It’s okay,” Daisy assured him. “I was angry with myself, too, for a whole lot of things. I still kind of am.”

“You know,” Joel said after a moment. “She really did put us in a bad position. I know she didn’t mean to, but when you lie to someone like she did you make that other person complicit. Responsible somehow. I’d never tell Evie—Sophie—but I have kind of a bad feeling about it all. I’m not mad at her, exactly. But . . . I feel like I was used, even though I know she meant no harm.”

“I know,” Daisy said. “I feel exactly the same way. I still want to be her friend, but I think we might have to start, well, not from the beginning, but almost.”

“The thing is we have to give her time to learn how to be honest again. She’s been so in the habit of lying to protect herself. Behavioral change usually doesn’t happen overnight.”

Daisy laughed. “And I’m not the most patient person, I know. But I’ll give her all the time she needs.”

Joel shook his head. “You should have seen her when we found her, Daisy. I swear I thought she was dying right then. She was raving, literally raving. I was terrified. It was like something out of a gloomy old Victorian novel. You forget sometimes that life is so fragile. That even now, even in the twenty-first century, people can die of something as simple as an infection.”

“Infections are never simple, Joel. But I know what you mean. We take so much for granted. I guess I learned that from Evie. I mean, Sophie. She has so little and I have so much. Even a stupid pair of hand-me-down sunglasses was a big deal for her.”

“Do you think she’ll be all right?” Joel said. “I mean, you met Mr. Steuben at the hospital. Do you think he’ll ever be healthy enough to—well, to be a father again for Sophie?”

“I don’t know,” Daisy said honestly. “He seems nice. And it’s clear he loves his daughter. But if for some reason he can’t be there for Sophie, now that she’s got us all in her life I don’t think she’ll ever be alone again the way she was. We won’t let her be.”

“I hope you’re right.” Joel scooted forward in his chair and rested his elbows on his knees. “Daisy, can I tell you something that has nothing to do with Evie? I mean, Sophie. Wow, that’s driving me nuts.”

“Of course,” Daisy said, thinking she had never seen Joel look—look sheepish before. “You can tell me anything.”

“Well, the thing is, I kind of met someone.”

Curiosity struggled with heartbreak, but curiosity won for the moment. “Where?” she demanded. “Who is he? Do I know him?”

“I don’t think you know him. His name is Kevin and he’s eighteen and he lives in Wells and he works in the kitchen at that new French bistro in Ogunquit. He’s saving up to go to culinary school next year.”

“But how did you meet him?” Daisy pressed.

“It was his one afternoon off a week and he was heading to the beach along the path at The Starfish and I was just coming off a shift and . . . And I said hi. And he said hi back. And then, I don’t know, we just started to talk.”

“And who asked who out?”

Joel laughed. “I can’t even remember. I was so beyond nervous. But we’re getting together on his next afternoon off.”

Curiosity sated, heartache took over and Daisy had to sternly remind herself that her love for Joel would give her the strength to be happy for him even if they were to grow apart. “When do I get to meet him?” she asked. “Kevin.”

“We haven’t even gone out yet!” Joel protested.

“Well, if it turns out you two really like each other I want to meet him immediately. I want to make sure he’s worthy of you. Just . . .”

“Just what?”

Daisy bit her lip, an old habit she thought she had completely abandoned. “It’s silly, but . . . Just promise me you won’t totally forget me.”

Joel jumped up from his chair and captured Daisy in a tight hug. “It
is
silly because you’re my best friend. But I promise. And you had better not totally forget me when some Romeo comes along!”

“I
t’s hard for me to remember to call you Sophie,” Daisy admitted. “I still say Evie sometimes when I talk about you with my sisters or with Joel.”

Sophie smiled. “That’s okay. Evie—Evelyn—was my mom’s name. But I do think I should go back to being me.”

“That sounds like a very good idea.”

Sophie had been released from the hospital a few days earlier and after having collected her things from the Higgins house, she had moved in to Billy Woolrich’s house, where she had what had once been Susan Woolrich’s sewing room all to herself. It was what she wanted, she told Daisy and the others. To be under the same roof as her father. At the moment, however, she and Daisy were sitting at the table by what Sophie had come to think of “Violet’s Secret Garden.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you, Daisy,” she said, reaching for her glass of iced tea. “I hated doing it, really, but especially after you found out about my real name I didn’t know what else I could do. I was so afraid. I was always so afraid.”

“It must have been horrible, feeling so alone.”

“It was. And it was my own fault. It was stupid of me to run away from my aunt and uncle’s home. So many terrible things could have happened to me. They almost did.”

“You weren’t thinking clearly,” Daisy said soothingly. “That’s all.”

Sophie smiled a bit. “Am I thinking clearly now?”

“I don’t know. What do you want to happen next?”

“I want to be with my dad. Not just at Billy’s house but after, in our own home someday.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Sophie said firmly. “And not because if I say that I don’t want to be with him I’ll have to go back to my aunt and uncle’s house. I want to be with my dad because . . .” The words caught in her throat. “Because I love him.”

“I know,” Daisy said. “I can tell.”

Sophie wiped tears from her eyes. “I missed him so much. Even when I was telling myself I hated him for what had happened to my family, deep down I knew that I didn’t hate him. I
couldn’t
hate him, though I tried awfully hard to. Remember that picture of my family you and Joel found? Well, I still have it. I know I said I’d throw it out, but it’s the only picture of my father I have and in the end I just couldn’t bear to let it go.”

“I’m glad you kept the picture. Look, maybe I shouldn’t ask this, but . . . does your dad have any money at all?”

“I didn’t think so,” Sophie admitted, “but Dad told me that back when he got in trouble—back when he was suspended—the other partners in his law firm were really supportive—I mean, they’d all been together for years—so when they bought him out they offered to hold his share in the firm in trust for the day when he would be back on his feet. They believed in him, Daisy. Even when I had no faith in him at all they knew he would recover. And Dad accepted their offer. He also must have had some hope for the future. A future with me.”

“Wow. That’s amazing. So now what happens?”

“Dad and Freddie have been in touch with his former partners. Someday soon, maybe six months or so from now, if Dad continues to stay off the drugs and prove that he’s responsible and all, he can be reinstated to the bar and he’ll get control of his money.”

“You’re lucky to have this second chance with him.”

“Oh, Daisy. I’m so sorry that you can’t have a second chance with your father.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Daisy sighed. “But you know what? It was really great when he was here, and that’s what I have to focus on.”

“It’s not easy though, is it?” Sophie thought of her mother. Memories were
not
enough of a person to possess, but if they were all that you were allowed, well, you just had to make do.

“No,” Daisy agreed. “It’s not easy. So, do you think you and your dad will stick around in Yorktide for long?”

Sophie laughed. “I’m not sure we have a choice! Freddie’s already offered my dad a job in her office and Allie contacted the high school for information about how I can register and Billy’s acting like he really
is
my grandfather! Last night he asked if I wanted a cup of warm milk to help me sleep!”

“That’s fantastic! Not the warm milk part, that sounds kind of gross. But about your staying on in Yorktide. Hey, maybe we’ll be in some of the same classes. And Joel and I can introduce you around.”

“That would be great. When I started over at my cousins’ school, well, neither of them really wanted me around so . . . I can’t really blame them. We were pretty much strangers all of our lives and then suddenly, there I was, living just down the hall.”

“Well, you’re not a stranger
here,
” Daisy said firmly. “And guess what? I can’t believe I haven’t told you this yet. Joel met someone!”

“No! What’s he like? Is he as fabulous as Joel?”

“I have no idea. I haven’t met him yet. But I keep telling myself that Joel has good taste in people—I mean, he’s my friend and yours!—so how bad could this guy be?”

“You’ll miss him,” Sophie said gently. “I mean, when he’s spending time with this guy.”

“Yeah. But everything changes. And sometimes things work out okay in the end.”

Sophie reached across the table and put her hand on Daisy’s arm. “A lot of times.”

P
oppy had been in bed for almost two hours, but no matter how tired she felt—and she felt very tired—sleep would not come. The fact was she was too keyed up. So much had happened in the past week or so and there was so much to process, from Evie’s transformation to Sophie and the uncovering of what had really happened to the Steuben family, to Poppy’s new relationship with Jon Gascoyne.

But at that moment, the Steuben family and their predicament was uppermost in Poppy’s mind. She was deeply touched by how so many members of the community, including Jon’s parents, Albert and Matilda Gascoyne, and Nico (whose real name, Poppy had learned from Freddie, was Thomas Nicholas Brown), had come forward to help Dan and Sophie Steuben, virtual strangers, get their lives back on track. It seemed that putting a face to the
fact
of homelessness galvanized people into action.
Not in my backyard. . . .
That awful mindset! Well, sometimes unpleasant or frightening things
were
in your backyard and you had no choice but to acknowledge them and if at all possible, to eradicate them or, at the very least, to render them neutral.

And poor Violet, Poppy thought, shifting under the lightweight blanket. She had gotten the first panic attack after reading an article about homelessness and fearing that it might happen to her, too. As they all had learned over the past days, losing one’s home was something that happened not only to lazy or criminal people but also to good, hardworking families. Anyone could meet with a tragedy. Anyone could experience a run of bad luck. Anyone.

And then it came to Poppy, like the proverbial lightbulb switching on in her head. Why not create a charity to raise money for homeless families in Maine? True, she had no idea where to begin such a venture, but there were people who
did
know and she would find them and go to them for guidance.

Why not?

This is my life,
she thought, her excitement building. She had found her path and her purpose and who knew where it would lead? Poppy smiled into the dark and remembered that earlier in the summer she had told her sisters and Allie that the catalyst for a significant change in her life hadn’t yet made itself known. Allie had then suggested that maybe the catalyst was already there and Poppy just hadn’t recognized it for what it was. And in fact, Evie—rather, Sophie Steuben—had been that catalyst all along. Sophie and her father and what so tragically had happened to their family.

Poppy sat up, turned on the lamp on the bedside table, and reached for the pad and pen she kept in the drawer. There was so much to do! Step one: She would have to educate herself on the existing situation of the homeless in Maine, learn what laws and agencies and services were already in place. She would have to get to know the various Maine communities—her own town of Yorktide for starters (she remembered Freddie mentioning a food bank in Yorktide and one in nearby Oceanside; she would visit both), the community of the state, the community of homeless families—before she could take her proper place and make a change for the better. She would volunteer at a shelter. She would talk to people, listen to their stories. She would start to make a difference.

Poppy felt elated and realized that she had never experienced quite the sensation of—of
rightness
—she was experiencing at that moment.

The life-changing decision needed to be shared. And first thing in the morning, she would share it with Jon.

 

“Where is everyone?” Jon asked, running a finger along a shelf of books in the sunroom.

“Allie took Daisy and Violet and Sophie to the outlets in Kittery,” Poppy told him. “Sophie needs a lot of essentials for school, clothes and the like.”

“Ah. Brave woman. Three teenage girls let loose in a mall!”

Poppy laughed. “You know, it’s rare I’m ever alone in this house. It’s . . . It’s far too big for just one or two people. It’s meant to be filled with voices.”

“So, what did you want to tell me?” Jon asked, going to sit in one of the comfortable armchairs. “You sounded pretty excited when you called.”

“I am excited!” And Poppy, taking the chair next to his, told Jon about the decision she had made late the night before. “Well,” she said when she had finished, “what do you think? Am I crazy? Am I getting in over my head?”

Jon smiled. “I think that no, you’re not crazy and that if you go about things in an organized way you won’t get in over your head. And I think that setting up a charity to help homeless families is a wonderful thing to be doing and I’ll help in any way I can. Honestly, Poppy, I can’t get the image of that young hitchhiker out of my head. The boy I told you about that day we had lunch at my dad’s. Maybe my helping with your organization will allow me in some way to atone for not trying to help him. For just letting him stand there on the side of the road, all alone.”

“Thank you, Jon. But you’re already so busy with your family’s businesses . . .”

“Not too busy to be there for the woman I love.”

“The woman . . .” Poppy couldn’t go on.

Jon got up, took Poppy’s hands, and raised her to her feet. “I love you, Poppy. I wanted to say it long before now, but maybe even now is too soon. Is it?”

“No,” Poppy said. “No, it’s not too soon. It’s perfect timing. Before now, I wouldn’t have been able to . . . to appreciate those words. I wouldn’t have felt worthy of them. But now . . . I think that maybe I can be.”

Jon drew her toward him. “It’s I who have to be worthy of you.” And then he kissed her. This time, in the privacy of the sunroom, the kiss was both sweet and passionate, both gentle and urgent.

When it was over, Poppy rested her head on Jon’s shoulder and he held her tightly. “It’s true,” she whispered, “life in Maine really
is
the way it should be.”