Maine: A Novel Part 26

aYou havenat changed your mind about trying to kidnap me, have you?a aNo. You donat have to come to California,a Kathleen said.

aOh G.o.d, are you planning to move here?a aNo, but thank you for your excitement over the idea.a aSorry,a Maggie said.

aI do want to come backa"with your permissiona"when the babyas born, and help out until you get on your feet.a aIad like that,a Maggie said.

aYou know your happiness is the most important thing in the world to me, right?a Kathleen asked. aExcept sometimes Iam really selfish.a Maggie laughed, and Kathleen went on talking. aWe both know that too. So. Iam kind of rambling here, but the point is, I should have done this right from the start.a aDone what?a aI have some money saved for the farm.a aI canat take your savings,a Maggie said.

aYes, you can,a Kathleen said. aItas twenty thousand dollars. And it would be my great pleasure to give it to you.a Even as she said it, she felt a deep sense of loss. Her father had made selflessness look so easy. But Kathleen would never be as good a person as he was, and she could not sit here and offer up her savings without thinking about how long she had planned on buying the worm gin, how diligent she had been in setting the money aside, month after month. The farm was doing fine, but now it would likely be years before any kind of meaningful growth could happen.

She felt sorry for Arlo. He had no idea how much she had socked away, but shead have to tell him now. Her father had often bailed her out, and she had been grateful. But she had never once asked him what he would have done with the money if he hadnat given it to her. For the first time, she wondered how Alice had felt about all that.

aI couldnat take it,a Maggie said. aCould I? Oh G.o.d. Iad pay you back, Mom.a Kathleen shook her head. aNo, itas a gift. I wish I had more to give you.a And with that, she actually did feel somewhat selfless. Maggie needed her, and she had answered the call. Her father would be proud.

aYou can use the money to take out a hit on Gabe,a Kathleen said. aOr buy diapers. Whatever you want.a aThatas a lot of diapers,a Maggie said.

aYouall be surprised.a She stayed for a week. Just long enough to help Maggie find a bigger placea"two bedrooms, right on the edge of a park, further into Brooklyn, Dominican kids running this way and that, an ice cream truck playing its tinny tune, ambling up the block. The rent turned out to be cheaper than her current apartmentas. If Alice ever came here, she would probably say that the neighborhood wasnat safe, but Alice would never come. Maggie would have to bring the baby to her if she wanted her grandmother and her child to meet. No doubt, Maggie would do this, having inherited Danielas belief in the importance of generations, of one person understanding life through the experiences of all the people who came before.

They packed boxes and listened to Beatles CDs. They ate a lot of takeout, and Kathleen began to feel her pants grow tighter. They shopped online for maternity clothes, which she was pleasantly surprised to find resembled real clothesa"gone were the ridiculous muumuus and sailor dresses pregnant women had been forced to wear back when she was having kids.

She accompanied Maggie to her doctoras appointment and had to excuse herself for a minute so she could cry in the ladiesa room. Kathleen wished Maggie had some handsome sweetheart standing by her side, holding her hand. That was what she deserved. When they walked out into the waiting room, crowded full of pregnant ladies wearing enormous diamond rings, Maggie looked like she might lose ita"but a moment later she shrugged, as if to say that that was just life.

aWhat will you do when Iam not here to come with you?a Kathleen asked. aCome alone?a aI can ask Allegra to bring me,a Maggie said. aMaybe I should have a dinner party and break the news to all my friends at once.a aThat might be a good idea,a Kathleen said, and her heart swelled to think that this fearless young woman was her daughter.

At night, they slept side by side in Maggieas bed. Kathleen felt afraid to leave, though she missed Arlo. She missed her dogs. She missed working the farm and eating dinners made from ingredients they had grown right there in their garden.

She missed yoga. You couldnat throw a rock in Brooklyn without hitting three yoga studios, but her kind of yoga had nothing to do with svelte twenty-six-year-olds in trendy workout gear. Her kind of yoga included Arlo and her in the backyard, wearing sweatpants, gazing at the mountains in the distance, rather than looking out at a sea of taxicabs through a dirty window.

They both cried when she had to leave for the airport.

aIam scared,a Maggie said.

aThatas just part of it. And you can change your mind anytime about coming to stay with us. Okay?a aThanks,a Maggie said. aI love you.a aI love you, too, kiddo.a Several hours later, Kathleen sat barefoot at the kitchen table with Arlo, drinking ginger tea, telling him everything that had happened since they had kissed good-bye two weeks earlier. He had arranged white tulips in a vase on the counter, and made a pumpkin cake with the words WELCOME HOME etched unevenly across the top in white icing. Kathleen felt at peace.

The dogs sat at either side of her chair, as if they were guarding her, as if to say Youare right where you belong.

Alice.

Alice had been watching him all afternoon. He had reddish hair, unlike most of the others. He paused for a moment and looked her way to make sure that she was still sitting there on the screen porch, observing his work.

She gave him a wave and took a sip of her wine. He went back to eating the gra.s.s.

A few days earlier, she had decided to make peace with the family of rabbits who had been hanging around all summer. They had withstood every challenge she had given them since May. You had to admire the sort of gumption it took to break through a fence and stomach an entire bottle of liquefied cayenne pepper just to get a bite of good lettuce.

When she gave it some thought, she realized she was their type exactly: someone who seemed to bug everyone around her, when all she was trying to do was survive.

In recent days she had even gone so far as to put a few carrots out on the gra.s.s by the car, but the bunnies hadnat touched them, probably because they could smell the human scent shead left behind.

This one was the fathera"at least she figured he was, since he was the biggest. She was worried about the little babies in this heat. She wished they would take a bowl of water. Father Donnelly told her this was the hottest August in southern Maine on record since 1893. He said it with a sort of awe for how long ago that seemed, as if dinosaurs might have roamed the earth that summer. Alice kept to herself that it was the year her mother was born, and so to her it didnat seem like such ancient history.

She still wouldnat let the rabbits near her garden, but there was hardly anything left there anyway. The strawberries and beans had been harvested. The lilies were wilting and brown. The tomatoesa"well, shead have to replant those next spring.

Kathleen was finally back in California. She and Maggie had left Cape Nedd.i.c.k so abruptly after the Fourth of July fireworks that Alice a.s.sumed she must have offended them somehow. They were both so d.a.m.n sensitive. But Kathleen a.s.sured her she was just ready to leavea"she had a lot to help Maggie sort out, she said.

Yes, like the pesky business of finding a father for her child.

In the month that had pa.s.sed since, Maggie had sent Alice one letter a week, like clockwork. Most recently, she reported that she had moved further into Brooklyn, to a nice family-friendly neighborhood. The apartment cost less than her old one and it was twice the size, with a large bedroom and a second, much smaller room, which most people would use as an office, but which she planned to turn into a nursery. She had begun telling friends that she was pregnant, and her boss had agreed to let her work from home three days a week once the baby came. She had not seen Gabe since she got back, but planned to meet him for coffee in the next couple of weeks to sort out logistics. Imagine that. A coffee date with the man who impregnated you. It seemed a bit late for logistics.

Maggie wrote that she was fifteen weeks pregnant. Her morning sickness hadnat abated. She had read in her baby books that her child was now growing hair, and wasnat it strange but wonderful to think of someone sprouting a full head of brown curls inside your belly? Alice squirmed a bit, reading that part. Women had entirely too much information about such things these days. Maggie added at the end of her letter that in five weeks she would find out if she was having a boy or a girl. If the child was a boy, she wanted to call him Brennan, Aliceas maiden name. A baby boy named after our fearless matriarch! she had written, and that at least had made Alice smile.

She responded to Maggie on small notepaper, so that she wouldnat have too much room to speak freely. She tucked a Ma.s.s card into each envelope. Alice was so worried about the girla"Maggie acted as if hanging a mobile and buying some tiny socks was all it took to raise a child. But Alice held her tongue.

Ann Marie and Patas daughter Patty had been up for two weeks in July with her brood. Watching Patty and her husband, Josh, chase their three rug rats around made Alice think of Maggie and everything she had in store: the sleepless nights, the bad winter colds, the fights with a maddeningly obstinate toddler.

Pattyas only daughtera"Aliceas great-granddaughtera"was a four-year-old called Maisy. Who named their child Maisy? It was a name better suited for a beagle than a little girl. Anyway, this summer Maisy couldnat get enough of Alice. Shead be sitting alone on the porch drinking her morning tea in peace, and shead hear a nasally voice at the door, aGreat-grandma Alice, can I sit with you?a Or shead be watering her flowers and Maisy would toddle up in her bathing suit and ask to help, plastic shovel in hand.

aShe really loves you,a Patty cooed, and of course Alice couldnat say anything, because it would be rude to tell her to go away. She was already in hot water with Ann Marie. But G.o.d help her, she found that child annoying. She wished Patty would have the good sense to realize that she didnat feel like being a d.a.m.n babysitter. After they left, she found the remains of an oatmeal cookie under one of the chairs on the porch, absolutely covered in ants.

Alice had been alone for ten days straight now, fourteen if you didnat count Ann Marieas last visit, which had lasted only two hours. Alice had asked her if she wanted to go somewhere for lunch, but Ann Marie said she had a lot to get back to at home, which Alice a.s.sumed was code for aIam still angry.a The silence in the house did not bother her one bit. She felt rather exhausted from the events of the summer as it was, and when Clare had called to say that Ryan was in rehearsals for a play the first three weeks of August, so they wouldnat be coming up until the twenty-first, Alice had felt almost relieved. Her world grew small again, as it had been before the Kelleher women descended on the place with all their drama and their worries and their strife.

Now she watched as Papa Bunny ran behind her rhododendron bushes and out of sight, back home to his family.

aToodle-oo,a she said out loud, and she felt good for having made amends.

She looked at the bottle of cabernet on the side table, registering that it was now half full.

Aha. She had actually thought those words: half full. That meant she was an optimist, didnat it? Alice smiled. Daniel would have gotten a kick out of that.

aHow do you like that?a she said. aYou always said I failed to look on the bright side, but I think I just proved you wrong.a She poured herself a bit more wine.

Right after he died, she had talked to her husband out loud all the time, letting him know what the children were up to, how she was pa.s.sing her days. At a certain point she had stopped, but lately she found herself doing it again. She had even told him how much she resented having Maisy underfoot, adding, aI only tell you this because I know you canat respond and scold me for being so awful.a Now she said, aI havenat heard from Patrick and Ann Marie for three days. The nerve of them. They didnat get their way, so now theyare punishing me. Is that any way to treat your mother?a She refused to feel bad about the house, no matter what they did or said. Really, she hadnat expected them to get so worked up about it. Patrick and Ann Marie were the most noticeably upset, but even Clare had called her in tears when she heard the news. Alice told them all that there was nothing she could do about it now. St. Michaelas was counting on the money.

Ann Marie had asked how she could do this to them, how she could just go ahead and give their summerhouses to the Church, as if the Church were nothing. The Church was the only constant companion of Aliceas life, the only thing that made sense, always.

She sipped her wine. Out in the distance, heat lightning flashed across the sky. Alice thought a little rain would help cool the air down, but the rain didnat come.

The next day was Sunday the fifteenth, the Feast of the a.s.sumption. Alice was up early to get to the Legion of Maryas celebration. It was her job to bring the cinnamon rolls, and she had made a special trip to a bakery in Wells.

She wore a pale violet pantsuit that she had never worn before, and she took special care with her hair and her eye makeup. In a departure from their usual schedule, they were meeting before Ma.s.s to honor the Virgin Motheras a.s.sumption into Heaven and to prepare for their role in the offering.

As she walked to the car, Alice looked out over the ocean and remembered how the Catholic mothers of her generationa"her own, and Danielas, and Ritaas, and everyoneasa"believed there was a blessing in the water on the fifteenth of August that would help any struggling young woman to get pregnant. Early on in her marriage, back when she was having all that trouble, Alice herself had been forced to head to the sh.o.r.es of Nantasket Beach. Before dipping in, she stood back for a moment to behold dozens of pretty young war brides with the same miracle in mind, immersing themselves in the cold New England sea with all the faith and determination of the saints.

That was a year before Kathleen came along. Daniel had called her their greatest blessing the morning she was born.

Alice got into the car and headed toward St. Michaelas. The Irish Hit Parade was on the radio, Danielas favorite. She left it on, even turning up the volume a bit. Five minutes later, she pulled into the parking lot and climbed up the front steps. The door was unlocked, and as she opened it, the smell of incense filled her lungs. She stepped inside. The church was vacant, and looked even grander than usual for that. There was still half an hour until her meeting began, and an hour before Ma.s.s.

She chose her usual pew and knelt down on the red velvet kneeler. She found her rosary in her purse, and then looked up at the stained-gla.s.s window behind the altar, a depiction of Jesus on the cross.

Troubling the gla.s.s beads between her fingers, Alice prayed for Maggie and Ann Marie, and for all the members of her family, the living and the dead. She prayed for her own soul, and for forgiveness for the things she could never undo. Over and over, she said the words that she had learned so long ago, words that had brought her comfort when nothing else could.

When she was finished and came to the final bead, she started again from the beginning. She prayed until she heard footsteps behind her, coming slowly down the aisle, a familiar voice softly calling out her name: aAlice? Alice. Itas time.a

Acknowledgments.

I am indebted to my fabulous editor, Jenny Jackson, and my incredible agent, Brettne Bloom, for their contributions to this book.

A million thank-youas to Hilary Black, Lauren Semino, and Eugene and Joyce Sullivan for reading the ma.n.u.script and providing such vital feedback. And to Laura Smith and Joshua Friedman for reading and editing everything else.

I am grateful to everyone at Knopf, Vintage, and Kneerim and Williams, especially Andrea Robinson, Jill Kneerim, Hope Denekamp, Leslie Kaufmann, Nicholas Latimer, Russell Perreault, Sara Eagle, Kate Runde, and Abby Weintraub.

The archives of The Boston Globe provided indispensible information about the Cocoanut Grove fire. A visit with the Held-Semino family gave me inspiration for the cottage, and Larry Ravelson gave me access to the very helpful book Ogunquit By-the-Sea by John Bardwell. Dorothy Joyce, M. Patricia Gallagher, and Lawrence and Florence Sitterle were fantastic sources of wisdom when it came to World War II and the 1940s. And Beth Mahon, Noreen Kearney, and Caitlain McCarthy were kind enough to share their recollections of growing up Irish Catholic in Ma.s.sachusetts.

Thank you to those who so generously offered me inspiring places to write: Jane Callanan, Amanda Millner-Fairbanks, Sudhir Venkatesh, Karla Adam, and Bennet Morris. You welcomed me into your lovely homes and said not a word when I accidentally killed your houseplants.

To the many members of my family, who mean the world to mea"thank you Mom, Dad, Caroline, Trish, Dot, Jon, Jane, Mark, Mark Jr., Nancy, Michael, Pauline, Michael Jr., Richie, Tracie, Eugene, the Troys, the Joyces, the Gallaghers, the Radfords, and all the rest.

Finally, thank you Kevin Johannesen, for bringing so much love, laughter, support, and clean laundry into my life. I will never know how I got so lucky.

ABOUT THIS READING GROUP GUIDE.

The questions, discussion topics, and reading list that follow are intended to enhance your reading groupas discussion of Maine, J. Courtney Sullivanas engrossing and entertaining new novel. If youare not a member of a book club, consider starting one up with your mother or your daughtera"Maine is a perfect family read.

ABOUT THE BOOK.

Three generations of women converge on the family beach house in this wickedly funny, emotionally resonant story of love and dysfunction from the author of the best-selling debut novel Commencement (aOne of this yearas most inviting summer novelsa a"The New York Times).

The Kelleher family has been coming to Maine for sixty years. Their beachfront cottage, won on a barroom bet after the war, is a place where children run in packs, showers are taken outdoors, and threadbare sweaters are shared on chilly nights. It is also a place where c.o.c.ktail hour follows morning ma.s.s, nosy grandchildren snoop in drawers, and ancient grudges simmer below the surface. As Maggie, Kathleen, and Anne Marie descend on Alice and the cottage, each woman brings her own baggagea"a secret pregnancy, a terrible crush, and a deeply held resentment for misdeeds of the past.

By turns uproarious and achingly sad, Maine unveils the sibling rivalry, alcoholism, social climbing, and Catholic guilt at the center of one family, along with the abiding, often irrational love that keeps them coming back every summer to the family house, and to one another.

QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION.

1. The epigraph pairs two quotes; the first is from Elizabeth Barrett Browningas poem Aurora Leigh: aAlas, a mother never is afraid, / Of speaking angrily to any child, / Since love, she knows, is justified of love.a The second is from a letter written by F. Scott Fitzgerald: aJust do everything we didnat do and you will be perfectly safe.a Why did the author put these quotes together? Which characters do you think they refer to?

2. If you had to choose one word to describe the overriding theme of Maine, what would it be?

3. Which of the women in the novel would you say is a good mother, and why? Who resents motherhood the most?

4. Discuss how each of the four main charactersa"Alice, Kathleen, Maggie, and Ann Mariea"approaches religion. Who seems to have the most comfortable relationship with G.o.d?

5. What was Aliceas motivation for changing her will? Why did she wait so long to tell her family?

6. Speaking of secrets, many of the characters in the novel keep substantial secrets for one reason or another. Whose is the most damaging?

7. What role does alcohola"and alcoholisma"play in the novel? How do the characters use alcohol (or abstain from it)?

8. aEven after thirty-three years of marriage, Ann Marie sat at every family dinner and listened to them tell the same stories, over and over. She has never met a family so tied up in their own mythology.a (this page) What is the mythology of the Kelleher family? Who is helped the most by it? And harmed the most?

9. What does Ann Marieas obsession with dollhouses tell us about her character?

10. After Danielas funeral, Alice says to Kathleen, aYou killed him, and now you want me dead too, is that it?a (this page) Why does she lash out like this?

11. Why did Danielas death have such an impact on the family?

12. What did you think of the revelation about Maryas death? Was Alice right to blame herself?

13. On this page, Maggie says to Kathleen, aI actually want this baby. I donat feel itas a mistake the way you did with us.a Why does Maggie feel this way about her mother? Do you agree with her a.s.sessment?

14. And on this page, Kathleen says to Alice, aNews flash, Mom, you really werenat that talented. None of us stopped you from becoming anything. That was a stupid childish dream like everyone else has.a How does this relate to Maggieas earlier outburst? How does the notion of sacrifice play into each womanas story about herself?

15. How did Ann Marie misread Steve so completely? And why does Kathleenas witnessing the event change her att.i.tude towards Ann Marie? Why do you think Kathleen reacted the way she did?

16. What kind of mother do you think Maggie will be? Who will she take after most: Alice, Kathleen, or Ann Marie?

17. Discuss the last lines of the book: aShe prayed until she heard footsteps behind her, coming slowly down the aisle, a familiar voice softly calling out her name: aAlice? Alice. Itas time.a a Is this Father Donnelly, Daniel, or someone else?

18. Which of these women would you like to spend more time with? Are there any youad never want to see again?

SUGGESTED READING.

Somewhere Off the Coast of Maine by Ann Hood; A Wedding in December by Anita Shreve; Home Safe by Elizabeth Berg; Summer People by Elin Hilderbrand; The Beans of Egypt, Maine by Carolyn Chute.

A NOTE ABOUT THE AUTHOR.

J. Courtney Sullivan is the author of the New York Times best-selling novel, Commencement. Her writing has appeared in The New York Times Book Review, The Chicago Tribune, New York, Elle, Glamour, Allure, and Menas Vogue, among others. She lives in Brooklyn, New York.