The Other Life (19 page)

“You feel okay?” Lewis asked.

“I do.” She put her hand over her eyes like a visor and squinted at him. It was the best birthday present anyone had ever given her. Even the trip to Fiji, she imagined, couldn’t surpass this. Okay, so maybe it was more exotic—and certainly more expensive—but there couldn’t possibly be more love behind it. “Thank you,” she said.

“I requisitioned this weather.”

She smiled. “I don’t doubt it.”

Quinn watched as Lewis looked around at the trees and then up at the sky, his eyes scanning the horizon for clouds. He was thinking about the weather.

“You know what we should do?” she said. “Get naked and jump in the lake.”

He laughed. “I know the air temperature feels like summer, but put your hand in the water.”

She did, expecting to tell him that the cool water would feel bracing, invigorating. But the chill reminded her of being submerged in the cold bathwater in the Manhattan apartment, and she changed her mind. No, they would not go swimming in the lake on this trip.

When the sun lowered in the sky, Lewis rowed them back to the bank behind Aunt Bunny’s house. They went inside and Quinn put fresh sheets on their bed, so that they could rest awhile before dinner. Once they lay down next to each other, they automatically rolled together. Quinn put her head on her husband’s chest and breathed in his scent. She was right—he smelled like earth and leaves. She tilted her head up and kissed him. Within moments, they were pulling off each other’s clothes and luxuriating in flesh against flesh. They took their time, letting the excitement build until their bodies wouldn’t let them hold back one more second.

When they finished, Quinn and Lewis held on to each other until they both dozed. She slept for only a few minutes, though, and then went into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower. Afterward, she blew her hair dry so that they could go out for dinner.

When she came out of the bathroom the bed was empty and there was a note from Lewis saying he had gone for a walk and would be back in an hour. Quinn was feeling refreshed and energetic, and considered how she would spend the time waiting for him to get back. Then she remembered the promise she had made to herself to scope out the local five-star resort. After Lewis had told her about the arrangements he had made for this trip, Quinn realized it would present a good opportunity to make peace with Hayden and Cordell by gathering information for them on what it might entail to make a wedding at the place. She wasn’t going to go so far as to apologize, but she felt comfortable making this gesture. This was the man Hayden had decided to marry, and Quinn would make the best of it.

She wrote a note back to Lewis telling him where she was going, grabbed the car keys, and left.

The entrance to the resort had a splendid roadway canopied by large oak trees. The building itself looked like a romantic brick mansion, with mountains on one side and a manicured golf course on the other.

Quinn parked and went into the main entrance, which was elegantly lit and richly appointed in subtle hues of hunter green and deep browns. She asked the concierge—a young woman in a dark suit—if she could speak to someone about planning a wedding at the resort. The woman telephoned the gentleman in charge of catering, and then told Quinn he would be tied up for a few minutes, but if she would care to have a look around on her own, he would be happy to meet her in the banquet facility they called the Garden Room.

The concierge showed Quinn a map of the grounds, pointing out the different areas with the tip of her pencil. The next day, she explained, there would be a wedding on the premises, so the Oak Room, which doubled as a chapel, was set up for the ceremony.

“You should stop in there and have a look,” she said. “It was part of the original estate that was here over three hundred years ago, and it has a lot of charm.”

The woman was right. The Oak Room was rustic and romantic, with an ornate coffered ceiling and a wide-plank wood floor, stained dark and lustrous. Antique wood paneling lined the walls, and a modern skylight had been added above the altar so that the bride and groom (or groom and groom, as the case may be) could be bathed in heavenly light.

Chairs were set up on either side of the aisle, each covered with white fabric tied in the back with a gold bow. Quinn was charmed by the effect, and thought Hayden and Cordell would love the place.

A white runner had been placed from the doorway in the back all the way to the altar in the front. Quinn took off her shoes and walked down the aisle, hands clasped in front of her, as if she were holding a bouquet. She took slow steps and imagined an organist in the corner playing the “Wedding March.”

She remembered the joy she felt taking that walk on the day of her own wedding, her father by her side. The two of them stopped several feet from the altar, as they had been instructed, and Lewis came down to get her. It was, she knew, a sexist custom for the father to give the bride away to the groom, but she was comforted by the tradition, and felt especially touched by how much it meant to her dad, who quietly wept.

In addition to his tuxedo, Lewis wore the goofiest grin, and it made her laugh when he took her arm. At the altar, Quinn glanced over at her mother, who had already walked down the aisle and was standing under the floral chuppah in a pale blue dress. She expected a grin or a wink from Nan, but instead saw a stony expression, neither joyful nor sentimental. She got the feeling that her mother was angry and just wanted to get through the ceremony. It infuriated Quinn, and she knew that a part of her would never forgive her mother for her attitude that day. Maybe Nan couldn’t help how she felt, but surely she could have faked it a little bit for her daughter’s sake. It was, after all, the most important day of her life.

Quinn walked slowly down the white runner and vowed that she would not do the same thing to Hayden. If she couldn’t be happy for him on the day of his wedding to Cordell, she would smile anyway and wish the couple a long life of health and happiness.

She walked up the two small steps to the platform that served as an altar in this ancient room, and got a strange feeling. Was there a portal in this place? She closed her eyes for a moment. Yes, she could sense it. But she didn’t feel that her New York City life with Eugene was pulsing by on the other side. Nor did she experience the dark and deathly chill she had had behind the curio cabinet. This energy was more related to the place. She looked around. Where was it? Quinn wanted to get closer to figure out what was on the other side. It seemed important.

At the back of the altar was a white lattice. She approached it and touched the slats. Something was behind it.

Quinn stepped off the platform and walked around it. There, hidden in back, was an old stone fireplace, scorched black from centuries-old flames. She could see a crack within, and knew that it was the portal. She didn’t want to get close enough to pick up any of the ancient soot, so she just held her hands toward it to see if she could sense what was so important about her life on the other side.

She closed her eyes and almost immediately felt something about a wedding. But it wasn’t happy. Someone wanted to get married and someone didn’t. Was it Hayden and Cordell? That had to be it. Cordell was about to break Hayden’s heart, and she could feel the impending pain. It was terrible.

Quinn heard the door to the chapel open.

“Mrs. Braverman?” a man’s voice called.

It was the caterer. She stepped around from behind the lattice and tried to smile.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was just curious about this old room.”

“No problem,” he said. “I looked for you in the Garden Room and thought I might find you here. I’m John McCormack, catering director here at Stonewell. Can I give you a tour?”

Quinn was now more interested in finding out what was going on across that portal than seeing the facilities. After all, if Cordell was breaking Hayden’s heart in her parallel life, he would probably do the same here. She felt a duty to her brother to at least figure out what was going on.

But she couldn’t very well tell this man to get lost so that she could commune with the old fireplace. And so she filled him in, saying that her gay brother was considering getting married here, and that she had heard the resort could accommodate them. John McCormack didn’t bat an eye. He said that Stonewell was known for having hosted some of the most beautiful gay and lesbian weddings in New England, and he would be happy to discuss it with her.

Quinn allowed herself to be taken on a tour, and went through the motions of asking all the appropriate questions. She was as polite as she could be, without prolonging the meeting. She wanted to get it over with, in order to sneak back to that fireplace.

“I have a special photo album I’d like to show you,” John McCormack said, and led her back to his office to show her beautiful photographs from recent same-sex weddings that had been held at the resort. She thanked him and tried to be on her way, but had to wait while he gave her brochures, menus, and various price lists to take back to her brother.

“I’m just going to take one more walk around the grounds on my own, if that’s okay,” she said as she shook his hand.

John McCormack said he didn’t mind at all, and Quinn made a beeline back to the chapel.

 

 

THERE WAS SIMPLY no way to get close enough to the portal to sense what was happening without crawling into the fireplace and getting covered with soot. So Quinn rolled up her jeans and crept forward on her knees until she could place her hands directly on the fissure.

The feeling here was entirely new. Yes, it was a portal like the others, but the life on the other side was farther away. It was as if there were a physical barrier to cross before she could truly understand what she was sensing about the marriage in question.

Quinn argued with herself about whether or not she should go through. Was she merely trying to vindicate herself by proving that her problem with Cordell was based on more than her own emotional issues? Maybe she should stick to her vow to stop crossing over. Besides, Lewis would be returning soon, and she needed to get back to him. Still, finding out what was giving her that prickly feeling seemed important. Would it be so terrible to slip though one last time, especially if she could save her brother a whole lot of grief? Okay, she thought, I’ll do it. But only for a few moments and then I’ll do whatever it takes to get right back.

She pressed her hands against the crack in the back of the fireplace and it opened, pulling her inside its musty warmth. She felt herself spin like a corkscrew, and her anxiety about the decision to make the journey gave way to a calm that floated her into a meditative space between consciousness and sleep. Like always, when she realized she was in a new place with real dimensions, it felt like awakening from a strange dream. She was in water, but it wasn’t the bathtub of her Manhattan high-rise. Quinn opened her eyes and saw hundreds of fingers. Fingers? No, it was sea life—some kind of coral. And what was the movement behind her? She turned and found herself amid a school of bright blue fish. Shocked and disoriented, Quinn opened her mouth and swallowed a terrible gulp of water. Just then, a hand reached from above and grabbed her arm, yanking her from the water into brilliant sunshine.

“Holy crap. You were down there a long time. What the hell were you doing?”

It was Eugene, and he was pulling her into a boat. Quinn coughed up water. He patted her on the back.

“You okay?” he asked. “What happened to your snorkel?”

The air was dry and warm. Quinn looked around. The boat they were on was in the middle of a vast expanse of azure water. The light was strange, disorienting. Was it morning here? She looked for the sun, which wasn’t yet overhead. In the far distance, she could see what looked like a lush, mountainous island. In the other direction she saw a sandy shoreline dotted with palm trees.

Good Lord. She was in Fiji.

“IS SHE OKAY?” A WOMAN ASKED. “SHE LOOKS PALE.”

Quinn glanced around the boat, which seemed to be filled with American tourists sitting on a shelflike bench that ran from port to starboard on both sides. A slender, dark-skinned man stood at the back by the motor.

“She’s fine,” Eugene said to the woman. Then he turned to the man at the back. “We’re ready.”

“Ready for what?” Quinn asked.

The man started the motor.

“We were waiting for you to get back on board,” Eugene said, as the boat started to move.

Quinn panicked. “Where are we going?”

“To shore,” Eugene said. “Where else?”

Quinn jumped to her feet and glanced over the side of the boat. The portal was right beneath them, but she might never find it again if they went to shore.

“Relax,” Eugene said, and she put her bottom down on the hard bench. But as soon as he looked away, she was up again. Jumping ship right this moment could be her only hope of getting back.

She took a deep breath and got ready to dive in. Here goes, she thought, but before she could leap into the water, a burly man sitting on the other side of her grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back.

“Are you nuts?” he shouted over the motor. “You’ll get chopped up by the propeller.”

She swallowed hard and sat down again. He was right. But if she couldn’t jump now, how would she get back? Quinn needed to think fast. Was there a way to mark this spot so that she could find it again? She looked at the mountainous island in the distance and then back at the tallest palm tree on the shore, drawing a mental line between them. She crossed her fingers and hoped that it would be enough to help her find her way.

When they approached land, the boat’s captain cut the motor and jumped out, pulling the craft into shallower waters. The tourists stepped out and walked toward the dry sand, heading for the hotel. Eugene draped his arm over Quinn’s shoulder and smiled.