Heroes Are My Weakness(117)
A note of pleading had replaced Naomi’s air of command. “We had to do it. It was for the greater good.”
“It sure as hell wasn’t for Annie’s good,” Theo said. Pushing his jacket back, he rested his hand on his hip. “You know she’s going to the police with this.”
Judy blew her nose. “I told you this would happen. All along I said we’d end up in jail.”
“We’ll deny it,” Marie declared. “There’s no proof.”
“Don’t turn us in, Annie,” Tildy begged. “It’ll ruin us. I could lose my shop.”
“You should have thought about that a long time ago,” Theo said.
“If this gets out . . .” Louise said.
“When this gets out,” Theo retorted. “You’re trapped. You all understand that, right?”
Marie sat as straight as ever, but tears leaked over her bottom lids. They sagged back into their chairs, reached for one another’s hands, pressed their faces into tissues. They knew they were defeated.
Barbara was aging right in front of her. “We’ll make it right. Please, Annie. Don’t tell anybody. We’ll fix it. We’ll fix everything so you keep the cottage. Promise us you won’t say anything.”
“She’s not promising anything,” Theo said.
The door burst open, and two red-haired little girls raced in. Dashing across the room, they hurled themselves into their grandmother’s arms. “Grammie, Mr. Miller got sick, and he barfed. It was so gross!”
“He couldn’t get a substitute teacher!” the younger chimed in. “So we all got to go home, but Mom went to see Jaycie, so we came here.”
As Barbara gathered the girls in her arms, Annie saw the tears running down her powdery cheeks. Theo noticed, too. He shot Annie a frown and closed his hand around her arm. “Let’s get out of here.”
THEO’S CAR BLOCKED THE SUBURBAN in the driveway. “How did you figure it out?” he said as they came down the front steps.
“A woman’s perspective. Once you told me about the lease, I knew it could only be them.”
“You understand that you have them over a barrel, right? You’re going to get the cottage back.”
She sighed. “Looks that way.”
He heard her lack of enthusiasm. “Annie, don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“What you’re thinking about.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking about?”
“I know you. You’re thinking about giving up.”
“Not giving up exactly.” She zipped her coat. “More like moving on. The island . . . It isn’t good for me.” You aren’t good for me. I want it all—everything you’re not prepared to give.
“The island is great for you,” he said. “You haven’t just survived this winter. You’ve thrived here.”
In a way, that was true. She thought about her Dreambook and how, when she’d arrived here, so sick and broken, she’d seen it as a symbol of failure—a tangible reminder of everything she hadn’t accomplished. But her perspective had been shifting without her recognizing it. Maybe the theatrical career she’d imagined had never materialized, but because of her, a mute little girl had found her voice, and that was something.
“Drive out to the farm with me,” he said, “I want to check on the new roof.”
She remembered what had happened the last time they’d visited his farm, and it wasn’t the puppets she heard in her head, but her own survival instinct. “The sun’s out,” she said. “Let’s take a walk instead.”
He didn’t protest. They descended the rutted drive to the road. The boats in the harbor had been out at sea since dawn, and the empty buoys bobbed in the harbor like bath toys. She stalled for time. “How is the woman you helped?”
“We got her to the mainland in time. She has some rehab ahead, but she should recover.” The gravel crunched beneath their feet as he steered her across the road by her elbow. “Before I leave, I’m going to make sure some of the islanders start getting their EMT certification. It’s dangerous not having medical help here.”
“They should already have done it.”
“Nobody wanted the responsibility, but with a group of them training together, they’ll have each other’s backs.” He took her hand to guide her around a pothole. She drew away as soon as they reached the other side. As she pretended to fix her glove, he stopped walking and gazed down at her, his expression troubled. “I don’t get it. I can’t believe you’re thinking about giving up the cottage and leaving.”