How to Keep a Secret

“It won’t be hard.” Nancy glanced down at the garden. She already had plans for it. They would need plants acclimatized to wind and salt. Instead of a lawn, she was going to have a wildflower meadow. Cosmos, poppies, daisies and lupines. She wanted to look out her window and see birds and butterflies. She’d call Ben and ask him to help. He had more knowledge about coastal planting than anyone, except perhaps herself. Together they could transform this small perfect patch of land into something as spectacular as the garden at The Captain’s House. It would be different, of course, but different was good. The thought of working side by side with him lifted her spirits. She enjoyed his company, his smile, his calm manner.

“I can’t believe the pile of stuff outside the house,” Jenna said. “I was worried we’d have a fight on our hands to persuade you to throw anything away. Did Alice do it for you?”

“No, I did it.” Nancy smiled. “It turns out it’s never too late to learn new skills.”

24

Lauren

Progress: to move forwards or onwards

towards a place or objective

The weeks passed in a blur of activity and while Lauren busied herself with clearing, sewing and painting, the island shook off the freezing cloak of winter and spring emerged. Forsythia bloomed, brightening the garden with a burst of gold, the streets grew busier and the air warmed.

On a sunny Wednesday in mid-April she was awake early and making cushions for one of the upstairs bedrooms when she heard the kitchen door open.

Jenna came in wearing shorts and running shoes. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” Lauren put the fabric down and rolled her shoulders to ease the ache. Her head hurt and her fingers hurt. “I’m ready for strong coffee, a hot shower or maybe even wine.”

“At six in the morning?”

“Is that the time? The hours are merging.” And she was using every one of them, partly because it helped to bury her emotions under layers of hard work, but mostly because she was enjoying thinking about something other than her own problems. “Why are you dressed in running gear?”

“Because I’m ready for our run.” Jenna picked up the fabric. “I love this color. Very beachy.”

“It’s for the master bedroom. What run?”

“The one we’re about to go on. I need to run off my stress.” She fiddled with the fabric. “Is Mom in?”

“Upstairs. Still asleep I think. Be careful with that. There are pins in it. What’s up?” She knew her sister well enough to know when something was wrong.

“I haven’t been sleeping.” Jenna handed the fabric back. “I keep thinking about Dad and all those women.”

“Me, too.” Lauren threaded a needle. “I’m trying to put it out of my mind.”

“Do you think it would have made a difference if we’d told Mom what we saw?”

Lauren shook her head. “None.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I know I’m right.” She stabbed the needle into the fabric. “Dad couldn’t help himself. Expecting him to ignore women would have been like putting an alcoholic in charge of a bar and asking him not to drink.”

“Did you know he had other affairs?”

Lauren focused on her sewing. “No. I didn’t know for sure. I suspected. I saw him at a couple of summer picnics, talking and laughing with women. He was a flirt.”

“I didn’t see that.”

“You were younger than me. You probably didn’t notice.”

“Has it changed the way you feel about him?”

Lauren snipped the thread. “Seeing him that night we were together changed the way I felt about him. When I wasn’t with him, I was always wary. Didn’t quite trust him. But when I was with him he always made sure we had so much fun I forgot that I didn’t trust him.”

“I was the same. And I feel guilty,” Jenna confessed. “I feel like I’m being disloyal to Mom by not hating him.”