Juno's Daughters (25 page)

Frankie shrugged. “If you want.”

“If
you
want. We'll go visit with her next week. When everything calms down.”

Frankie did not answer. The bed was soft, and after the cold air and the warm wine it was tempting to crawl under the covers and snuggle up. Jenny scooted closer. Laughter rang from the kitchen and the brief flash of headlights from the field outside shined through the curtains into the room.

“Hey, Mom?”

“What, sweet pea?”

“I'd kind of like to be alone, if that's okay. No offense.”

Jenny lifted her daughter's chin to look into her eyes. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she did not know what was going on behind them. Frankie was sad, that was obvious, but there was more to it than simple sadness.

“Do you . . .” she started to say, but stopped when she saw a look of impatience flutter across Frankie's face. “Okay,” she said, and kissed her on the cheek. “None taken. I'll be by the fire if you need me.”

When Jenny returned to the fire, the crowd was two verses into John Hardy. Dale was strumming on the guitar and David was wailing away on the harmonica. Peg had even pulled out an old violin and was struggling to add some fiddle.

“Oh, good,” said Mary Ann when she saw her. “We're desperate for a soprano.”

Jenny tried her best, but she didn't feel like singing. There was an ache inside her, just under her ribs, and though she was layered in a sweatshirt and fleece jacket, jeans and boots, she couldn't seem to get warm. She already missed Lilly in Marin, she missed Frankie in the house, and she, too, was already missing these people around the fire with whom she had spent the last weeks: practicing, eating, laughing, gossiping, playing Frisbee, and, finally, over the course of fourteen magnificent nights, performing.

She glanced at Trinculo's profile and remembered how she had first glimpsed him in the store with Ariel, and later around the fire, with Lilly. Oh, Lilly. Miranda, who had been so very pale when she arrived, was now the gold of a marshmallow that had been swept over the fire. Frankie was not the only one who was bound to feel a little lost tomorrow, when the ferry carried them all away. Jenny imagined that she, too, even worse than in years before, would wander the house in a daze and go through the motions at work in a kind of nostalgic fog. Trinculo leaned in to her, touching her fingertips with his own. She snaked her fingers through his. Yes, she decided, it would be much, much worse than last year. She and Frankie would have to console each other.

“It's my last night,” whispered Trinculo.

Jenny feigned surprise. “Really?”

“Oh c'mon. What do you say?” She had not once, since they first got together on Waldron, let him stay over.

Jenny imagined waking to the sound of the birds and finding him still in her bed and she found she wanted that to happen. Very much. She said, “I can't. I've got a full house.”

“I know.”

He turned his body toward her and tucked his chin under her hair, by her neck. She laughed at the sensation of his burrowing, like a horse after a small golden apple. He raised his mouth to her ear. “Then what about sneaking off with me behind the barn. For old time's sake?”

She whispered back, “I'll go first.”

Jenny left the fire circle in the direction of the barn. She knew that no one, certainly not Mary Ann or Dale, David, or Phinneas would be fooled when Trinculo left a few minutes after she did, but at least she would not have to be there to watch him go.

The party lasted until Peg told them all to go home. Although they were scheduled to see the actors off on the late morning ferry, Lilly hugged and kissed everyone with great ostentation before driving out to the lighthouse to hang out with some of her high school friends until the wee hours of the night. Frankie, being asleep, did not have to say good-bye to anyone. Jenny drove the car right up to the door of the house and David deposited Frankie, still wrapped in the quilt, in the backseat. The moon was full and so the dark island roads were illuminated from above and the porch steps, though they had forgotten to leave a lamp on, were bright with reflected light. Jenny led a groggy Frankie through the quiet house and pulled off her shoes before tucking her, fully clothed, into bed.

She glanced at her watch. It was one-thirty in the morning. The morning of the day they were leaving. Certain she would not be able to sleep herself, Jenny padded to the kitchen in her socks and poured herself a glass of wine. She dragged the afghan off the couch and wrapped it around her shoulders. She sat in the wicker chair on the porch, Ariel's chair, and listened to the bullfrogs' calls of lust and longing until the moon retreated and dawn started to lighten the sky.

L
illy's bed had not been slept in by morning, but that was not unusual. Jenny figured she'd make it to the dock to say good-bye to the actors. Or she wouldn't, and that would be all right, too.

Jenny was surprised, however, that Frankie did not want to take the ride into town to see the ferry off. She burrowed under the covers so that her hair was just a tangled nest on the pillow. “My stomach hurts.”

Jenny pressed the back of her hand against Frankie's forehead. Her skin was cool. “Is it your period?”

“
Mom
.” She turned away from Jenny and mumbled. “I think it might be my appendix.”

“Which side?” asked Jenny.

Frankie appeared to hesitate and then raised the blanket and gestured toward her right hip.

“It's not your appendix,” said Jenny. She made her tea and brought her a hot water bottle. She cracked the window to let the fresh air in.

“I'm cold,” said Frankie.

Jenny closed the window again. “I told Ariel and the others that we'd come see them off.”

“And Trinculo.”

“And Trinculo.”

“You can go, if you want. Tell them I'm sick.”

It was a cool overcast morning and Jenny had put on her winter jeans. She stood and gazed at the blanket-covered lump that was her daughter, considering. She dug both hands down deep into her pockets. With the tips of her fingers on her right hand, she touched cool metal.

“Hey, look what I found.” She held the silver dolphin charm out toward the bed.

One eye appeared out from under the blanket. “Lilly gave me that,” said a muffled voice.

“Here.” Jenny dangled it over the bed.

“Put it on the dresser.” Frankie pulled the blanket back over her head.

Jenny felt an unaccountable prick of loss as the charm left her fingers. “I'll be back in one hour.”

There was no response from the bed.

It was a cold morning, it was a weekday, and a good fraction of the island's residents were hungover from the party the night before. As a result, there were just a few people assembled on the dock to see the actors off. Mary Ann was snug in a homemade patchwork denim coat with a sheepskin lining. Chad had dragged himself out of bed, knit cap, long underwear, and all, to see off a woman he was sure would have been the love of his life had she only chosen to give up her acting career and stay with him in his cabin. Dale and Peg were there, of course, unbrushed, unwashed, and looking as if they had both aged ten years overnight.

“Morning,” said Jenny, and she gave Peg a quick kiss on the cheek. “Great party. You haven't seen Lil, have you?”

“Not since last night,” said Dale.

Peg pulled her hair into a wiry bun and secured it with a pencil. “She'll turn up,” she said. “If I know Lilly.”

The actors stood around Peg in a half circle and several nodded their heads in agreement. By now they
all
knew Lilly.

“We'll pick the next play by February,” said Peg. “And hold auditions in March.”

“I'll be ready,” said Trinculo.

“If I don't have a part in a series by then,” said Caliban, “I may go back to teaching high school. Maybe I could get a job up here.”

Peg laid her hand on his shoulder. “Well, Felix. That would certainly be a loss to the stage. You were wonderful in our show.”

Felix
. Jenny looked around at the others, standing with their backpacks and suitcases at their feet and thought: Lucy, Corbin, Lawrence. She turned to the man beside her and said softly, “Andre.”

Andre, once Trinculo, touched her cheek. “At your service.”

“I'll miss you,” she said.

“I'll be back,” he said, with a predictably good imitation of Schwarzenegger.

“Well, I'll be here.”

The captain blasted the horn on the ferry, signaling that it was almost time to go.

Lawrence, formerly Ariel, lifted the handle of his wheeled suitcase and turned his body lightly toward the boat. Jenny stepped forward to wrap her arms around him.

Though there had been plenty of hugging, and more, in the last few weeks, she had never embraced Ariel before, and he looked almost embarrassed as she did so. Embarrassed but pleased, too.

He was a good six inches taller than she was and had to bend to lay his head on her shoulder. “You take care of my girl,” he said.

“She would have come. But she wasn't feeling well.”

“I get it, Jen. Believe me. You don't need to explain.”

“Okay. Be well.”

He turned to give a quick parade wave to all of them before he boarded the boat.

Lucy, once Miranda, kissed Jenny on the cheek. “She won't stay mad,” said the younger woman, and they both knew she meant Lilly. “I promise.”

Jenny hugged her tight. “Thanks, Lucy. I hope you're right.”

One by one the others shouldered their packs or picked up the handles of their suitcases and wheeled them toward the boat. Seagulls circled overhead, looking for bits of waffle cone, sandwich crusts, or french fries dropped on the outside dining deck of the Fish Shack.

Andre hung back at Jenny's side. When his companions had all gone, he bent his head to give her a self-conscious kiss on the lips. Even now that Lilly knew about them, they had been hesitant about public displays of affection (the private ones were a different story).

Jenny closed her eyes as his lips touched hers and then, when she opened them, saw that he had already started across the wooden walkway. He was wearing the leather jacket he had worn the night they'd gone to the Colors Ceremony at Roche Harbor. His hair brushed his collar and his jeans came all the way down over his city boots. From where she was standing she could not even see a sliver of his skin, just his broad back growing smaller.