Diane Chamberlain - The Bay at Midnight

I dried my hands on a dish towel, then walked through the living room to the porch. Ross stood outside, his face close to the screen, his hand over his forehead so that he could see into our bungalow.

“Hello, Ross,” I said, standing a distance from the door.

“Can I come in?” he asked. “I need to talk to you.”

I pushed the screen door open, and he stepped onto the porch. In retrospect, I should have gone into the yard with him. Everything might have turned out differently, if only I’d not let him in.

Ross looked nervous, or at least as nervous as a State Supreme Court chief justice was capable of looking.

“I saw your parents leave with the girls,” he said.

“They’ve gone to the boardwalk.”

“Did Isabel go with them?” He looked behind me as if he might see her standing there.

“No,” I said. “She’s out with her girlfriends.”

He looked relieved. “Good. I need to talk to you.”

“Yes, you mentioned that.” I was standing with my arms folded across my chest, conveying, I was certain, a tired sort of impatience.

He glanced toward the end of the porch that faced his bungalow. “Can we go inside?” he asked quietly.

I followed his gaze in the direction of his house. I could see no movement on his back porch, but it was apparent that whatever Ross wanted to say to me, he wanted to say in private. I gave in.

“Come into the living room,” I said.

He followed me inside the house, then sat down on the wicker rocker and rubbed his chin. I leaned against the side of one of the upholstered chairs rather than sit down myself. I didn’t want this conversation to be long.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m certain that Ned and Isabel are involved…romantically.”

Did he mean they were having sex? “I don’t think so,” I said.

“You’ve got your head in the sand,” he said. “She and Ned are together more than you know. More than I knew. Ethan told me they sneak around to be together.”

My heart gave a great thump. “Maybe Ethan is trying to get his big brother in trouble,” I suggested. “I always know where she’s going and who she’s with and she’s good about keeping to her curfew.” That was nonsense, but I wasn’t going to let him know I’d lost control of my daughter.

Ross smiled at me. “Your parents and mine would have said the same thing about us when we were Isabel and Ned’s ages, don’t you think?”

I looked away from him. He was right.

“Humor me for a moment,” he said. “Pretend that I’m right about Isabel and Ned being involved. Then you and I would need to find a way to put an end to their relationship, wouldn’t you agree?”

I had spent the early part of the summer making sure Izzy and Ned were not involved, and until this discussion, I’d thought I had succeeded. But now I was faced with a different problem: I was unwilling to admit to Ross that Isabel actually might be his. I was ninety-percent certain she was Charles’s child, but that ten percent haunted me.

“I do agree,” I said, “because of the very, very slight possibility that…you know. But it’s moot, because I’m certain she’s not seeing him. I would know. I would—”

“Would you wake up, Maria?” He stood up, his voice loud, his hands moving through the air. “She doesn’t look a thing like Charles.”

“She doesn’t look like you, either,” I said. “She looks like me.”

“She has my mother’s chin and cheekbones,” Ross said.

“Oh, stop it.” I covered my uneasiness with a laugh. “Why don’t you go home and—”

“I am not allowing my son to screw his sister!” he shouted, his face red.

I was furious. “Get out,” I said. I walked across the porch toward the door. “Get out right now.”

He stared at me a moment, then walked past me onto the porch. “You better hope she doesn’t turn up pregnant,” he said.

Once he was gone, I let out my breath and was rubbing my hands over my eyes when I suddenly heard a sound coming from the attic. I froze. Footsteps skittered across the attic floor and I turned to see Isabel on the stairs. They swayed and creaked beneath her as she rushed to get down them, and I pressed my hand to my mouth.

“What were you talking about?” she shouted as she jumped the last few steps to the floor.

“Izzy,” I said, struggling to make my voice light, as if anything she’d overheard could be explained away with a chuckle. “I thought you were out with Mitzi and Pam.”

“I had a headache, not that it’s any of your business,” she said. There was fire in her dark eyes. She looked nothing like Ross. Nothing. “What did Mr. Chapman mean about me being Ned’s sister?” she asked.

I tried to look surprised. “What?” I said. “I think you must have misunderstood him, honey.”

“How could I possibly be his sister?” she asked.

I couldn’t find my voice. Isabel shook her head at me as understanding dawned on her. “You tramp,” she said. “You were married to Daddy and you slept with Mr. Chapman?” She put her hand over her own mouth as though she might get sick. “Oh, God,” she said. “You’re disgusting.”

I had no words left in me to deny it or explain it. “I made a mistake, Isabel,” I said. “But I am as certain as I can be that you are Daddy’s child.You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Is this why you’ve tried so hard to keep Ned and me apart?” Her eyes were brimming with tears now. I wanted to hold her, but I knew she would never allow it.

“You and Ned are too young to get serious with anyone,” I said.

She looked at me with something like hatred in her eyes. “I cannot wait to tell Daddy about this,” she said. “You’re nothing but a slut, Mother. And you give me all these rules I’m supposed to obey. What a joke you are.” She turned and ran down the hallway toward the front door and out of the house.

I stood still in the electrified silence, pressing my hands together in front of me. It would destroy Charles if she told him, and in turn, it would destroy me. Charles would never divorce me, but our marriage would be ruined forever. I had to put those thoughts aside, though. Right now, my main concern had to be the emotional state of my child.

I went outside and spotted Isabel across the street sitting among the blueberry bushes, not far from the very place she might have been conceived. She was crying her heart out. I walked across the street and sat down next to her, trying to pull her into my arms, but she stiffened at my touch.

“Tell me it’s not true,” she pleaded. “Tell me Ned’s not my brother.”

“I don’t think he is,” I said. “But it is true that he could be.”

“Oh, God.” She stood up, her body heaving with her sobs. Then she leaned over, picked up a fistful of sand, and threw it directly into my face. I blinked quickly. The sand seared my eyes and I covered them with my hands, trying not to cry out from the pain.

“I mean it, Mother,” she said, her voice somewhere above me. “When Daddy comes this weekend, I’m going to tell him every single thing. I’m going to tell him he has a whore for a wife. I can’t wait. I hope he divorces you.”

It was minutes before I could open my eyes well enough to make my way back to the bungalow and I spent half an hour in the bathroom trying to wash out the sand. I knew I would have to tell Charles the truth before Isabel was able to, but as it turned out, neither of us ever got the chance.

“Izzy wrote that note to Mr. Chapman,” Julie said, when I’d finished my story.

I nodded. “That makes the most sense,” I said. “I don’t know how or why it ended up in your…your bread box, but this—” I lifted the piece of paper. “I’m sure this note was meant for Ross.”