Beachcombers. Part 6

She stepped down from the truck and waved good-bye and set off walking down the sidewalk, and all the while she just couldn't stop smiling.

11.

Abbie See what I mean?" Lily and Abbie were peering out the window.

Abbie let the curtain fall. "She doesn't have a car. Dad probably agreed to drive her somewhere."

"It's lunchtime. I think they're going on a date."

"So what if they are, Lily? Dad's allowed to date." Abbie padded barefoot down the hall to the kitchen. She'd slept late, and she was starving. Opening the refrigerator, she scanned the contents. "No bacon? No eggs?"

"Dad has to watch his cholesterol," Lily informed her. "And I need to watch my weight. We're a bran and granola family now."

"Ugh." Abbie opened the cupboard and took down a bowl and a mug. "Where's Emma? Did she go out?"

"Did she go out? Are you kidding? You saw her yesterday. She's been flattened. She hasn't gone out since she got here." Lily eyed her sister a.s.sessingly. "I was right to get you back here, wasn't I?"

"Oh, I don't know, Lily!" Abbie sounded irritable. She b.u.mped the silverware drawer shut with her hip. "Don't you guys drink coffee?"

"Dad does. He keeps it in the freezer door. Don't ask me why. Listen, I have to bike over to the magazine for a staff meeting. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Wait a minute, Lily." Abbie leveled a serious look at her sister. "Don't think I'm going to fix Emma right away or even at all. She's going through a really tough time, that's for sure. But she's an adult. I can't kiss her owie and make everything okay."

"But you can keep an eye on her, right?"

"I can't spy on her twenty-four hours a day."

Tears welled in Lily's eyes. "I don't want Emma to be so sad."

Abbie put the bowl down and crossed the room. She took her baby sister in her arms. "I don't want her to be so sad, either, honey. But sometimes life is just plain hard."

"But Emma will be okay, won't she?"

"Of course she will." Abbie kissed her sister's forehead and gave her a little shake. "Get to work. I'll make some coffee and take a cup up to Emma."

Abbie tapped on Emma's bedroom door. No one answered, so she pushed it open and went in.

When they were girls, their mother had decorated each room with painstaking detail. Abbie's was yellow, Emma's lavender, and Lily's peppermint pink. One wall of Emma's room was lined with shelves populated by dolls of all shapes and sizes. Abbie and Lily had both altered their rooms as they grew older, Abbie slapping up posters of other countries, Lily thumbtacking pictures of rock stars and actors. But Emma had never packed her dolls away.

Emma was in bed, and Abbie knew she was awake, because Emma slept like a starfish, all limbs spread out, and now she was on her side, facing the wall, her covers pulled up to her ears.

"I know you're awake. Here's some coffee." She put Emma's mug on the bedside table and sat down with her own at the end of the bed, leaning against the bedpost.

Emma didn't move.

Abbie said, "We saw Dad pick up that woman and drive off with her." She sipped her coffee. "I don't know why Lily's so freaked out. Well, she's obviously younger than Dad, and she's not from the island, but still. Why shouldn't Dad have a girlfriend?"

Without turning to face Abbie, Emma muttered, "Lily's afraid she'll take Dad away from us."

"Well, that's silly. We're all grown up. We should be starting our own families. Plus, you and I haven't even been living on the island."

"But Lily has. Lily came right back the minute she graduated from college."

"She says she wants to meet the right people and get a job in New York."

"Yeah, she says that, but can you see Lily in New York? She--" Emma's mumbled words disappeared beneath the covers.

Abbie nudged Emma's b.u.m with her foot. "Turn over. Sit up. I can't even hear you."

Emma didn't move. Abbie dug her foot into Emma's back.

"Stop it!" Emma yelled.

Abbie didn't stop.

"G.o.d, you're irritating!" Emma turned over and sat up.

"Now drink your coffee," Abbie ordered.

"I don't want it."

"Drink it anyway."

"No, Abbie, I mean it. I can't drink coffee. Anything with caffeine makes me kind of freaky. Like I want to run down the hall and jump out the window."

"Oh, Emma."

Emma shrugged. "So I'm better without coffee. This way I just want to lie here and die."

"I hate when you talk like that."

"Then don't talk to me. Go away."

Abbie studied her sister, trying to evaluate her health. Emma was thinner than she'd ever been, and everything about her was dull: skin, eyes, hair. "You look like Iceland in January."

Emma snorted. "That's way too optimistic an image."

"Really."

"I feel like a piece of shark s.h.i.t on the bottom of the ocean. I've been chewed up and shat out. I've got nothing left."

"Oh, Emma, that's terrible." Abbie leaned forward to stroke her sister's arm. "Honey, it will get better. Remember how it was after Mom died? And it got better."

"Not for Mom."

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe for Mom."

"It was better for Mom to be away from her three daughters, to be dead in the ground?"

"We've talked about this, Emma. We don't know what's on the other side. Mom might be happy where she is, and watching us."

"Oh, bulls.h.i.t."

Abbie didn't want to talk about their mother anymore. She could go into as deep a dark place as her sisters if she allowed herself. At least she'd prodded Emma from apathy to anger. She changed the subject. "I've got to get a job. After what Dad said last night, I want to contribute some money."

"How long are you staying?" Emma asked.

"I'm not sure. I might as well stay the summer. It's the time to make money on the island." Abbie rose, set her mug on the table, and ranged around Emma's room. Emma's suitcases were still on the floor, unpacked clothing spilling out. Idly, she picked up a camisole and wrapped one of the dolls in it. "I'm not particularly qualified for anything. I don't want to wait tables or tend bar, I did plenty of that when I was younger." She put the doll back, picked up a shirt flung over a chair, and hung it in the closet. "What do you think you'll do?"

Emma had scooted back down in bed. "I think I'll go to sleep."

"No, silly, I mean, what kind of work do you want to do?"

"Don't want to work. Don't want to move." Emma turned on her side, facing the wall. "Go away."

"Eventually, Emma, you're going to have to eat," Abbie reminded her sister. She grabbed her sister's feet. "I know what. I'll take you out to lunch." It was difficult with the sheet and blanket over Emma's feet, but Abbie managed to tickle them.

All at once Emma jerked away and shot up in bed like a whale breaching. "Stop it! Just f.u.c.king stop it! How can you not get it that I want to be left alone? You can float along on the surface of the world but I can't be like you. I've done my best, I tried my hardest, and I've failed! It's over for me, Abbie. Everything I've ever wanted is gone and there's no hope in h.e.l.l of ever getting it back!"

"Emma, you are only twenty-eight years old," Abbie said softly.

But Emma was in a rage. "Yes, and my life is over! I have worked as hard as I could, I've struggled, I've tried to be smart, I've done everything the best I could, and it's all turned to s.h.i.t! And if this is what fate or destiny or G.o.d or whatever wants to do with me, then what the h.e.l.l can I do about that? Some people are lucky, some people aren't. I'm unlucky. How more clear can that be to me?"

Emma was so upset she was crying and spitting as her words flew into the air. "Emma, Emma," Abbie cooed, "calm down, honey."

Emma buried her face in her hands. "I hurt, Abbie. All I do is hurt. I can't stop hurting. I hurt with every breath I take. I don't want to breathe. I don't want to live."

Abbie tried to wrap her arms around her sister, but Emma pulled away. "Emma--"

"I'm not going to kill myself. I wouldn't do that to you and Dad and Lily. But I have to tell you, Abbie, I don't see any reason for me to live. Or any way."

"I think you should see a doctor, Emma."

"No."

"Well, Emma--" Abbie didn't know what to say. "You don't want Dad to see you like this."

Emma sniffed and gulped and wiped her face. "I know. Just leave me alone for a while, Abbie."

"Will you come down for dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Promise me. Promise you'll come down for dinner."

"All right," Emma conceded. "I promise."

Abbie shivered as she left Emma's room. She felt unsettled, anxious, as if she'd left the stove on and couldn't get back to the house. She needed to do something. She stomped down the stairs and grabbed up the car keys and headed off to the grocery store. They could always use groceries.

At Stop&Shop, she filled her cart, then joined the long line snaking from the cashiers. In front of her, two summer women were moaning about how they couldn't find help. One needed someone who knew computers for a data entry job, and the other needed a companion for her cranky old mother-in-law who was developing macular degeneration.

As Abbie listened, an idea bloomed in her head. The more she thought about it, the better she liked the idea, and by the time she was through the checkout counter and loading the car with groceries, she was talking out loud to herself.

At home, she quickly stashed anything that needed refrigeration, and let the rest wait while she grabbed up a pad of paper and pen. Then she thundered up the stairs and into Emma's room.

"I've got the best idea!"

Emma moaned and pulled her pillow over her head.

Undaunted, Abbie sat on the side of Emma's bed. "I was at the grocery store, and I heard two women talking about how they need summer help, and I thought, we could do that stuff, and we can get fab references from tons of people on the island. We can do anything, but we don't want to lock ourselves into a nine-to-five grind, at least I don't, so listen to this!" She cleared her throat, then read: "'Do you need an educated, responsible young woman for a temporary job? A babysitter in two hours for seven children ages two months to sixteen years? Someone cla.s.sy to take Grandmother to church or theater? An instant secretary who can fax, email, type or text? Nantucket Mermaids has it all. Excellent references. Discretion guaranteed.' What do you think?"

Emma didn't say a word.

"Great! I knew you'd love it! Mermaids--mermaids, get it? Okay, I'm off to the newspaper now to get the ad in for this week's issue. See you!"

Abbie rushed out of the room without shutting the door behind her. At least that would make Emma get out of bed, even if only to shut the door.

12.

Marina Thursday morning, Marina walked into town. The woman Marina had met at the Downy Flake had told her the book sorting would be done on the ground floor of the library, which Marina realized meant the bas.e.m.e.nt. She felt oddly shy as she walked down the stairs from the main floor, and she was kind of pleased by that. At least she wasn't feeling pathetic.

The door to the room at the end of the corridor was open. Marina could see towers of boxes of books, and long tables holding more books, and people lifting books from boxes and carrying them here and there. It all had the peaceful, appealing industry of an anthill.

She stepped inside and scanned the room for the woman she'd met at the Downy Flake. She didn't see her, but a slender woman in her early fifties noticed Marina and smiled.

"h.e.l.lo. Have you come to help us?"

"Yes. Hi. I'm Marina Warren. I'm renting here for six months, and a friend of Jim Fox told me you all might need some help."

"Oh, you're the woman renting Jim's cottage! Welcome. I'm Sheila Lester. And we're so glad you're here. Half our volunteers haven't shown up, but who can blame them on a heavenly day like this. I'm sure they're all out swimming or fishing or working in their gardens." She chuckled.

Sheila Lester wore her salt-and-pepper hair short and spiky. Above her coral tee shirt she wore a black cord with one deep turquoise bead that accentuated the clear turquoise of her eyes. Marina liked her at once.

"Well, I can come as often as you'd like," Marina said.

"That's swell. Now, let me show you the ropes. Although, as I'm sure you can tell, it doesn't take a rocket scientist. Basically, you grab a box and sort the books, putting them on whichever table they belong."