Julien carried on, talking about the abuse that, eventually, his father had inflicted on Julien and his sisters, Lily and Quinn. “I tried to fight him a few times. I wanted to protect my mom and my sisters,” Julien explained. “But he just laughed at me. He gave me a black eye once, and I was too proud to say it was from him, so at school, I told everyone that I’d fallen off a ladder. I guess nobody believed me. Maybe that was when word really got out that my father was who he was. Perhaps that was the beginning of the end.”
Something in his words rattled Hannah. She sat upright in her chair. “Did he get arrested?”
Julien offered her a crooked smile, one that mystified her. “Something like that, I guess. It was an awful, dark time. It wasn’t so long after that that he died, actually. The funeral was quite a day for me. I was ten, and I had to wear a suit and try to keep track of my sisters and try to handle my mother, who couldn’t stop crying. I think she thought it was the end of all things. She’d married a creep, and that creep had died and left her with three kids to tend to. I remember her saying to me, ‘Is this the end of my life?’”
Hannah could hardly speak. There was such darkness pouring out of Julien. All she could do was offer empathy, tenderness.
“I’ll never forget the wake,” Julien said. “We were eating sandwiches in the kitchen of Eleanor Pike’s place. And…”
“Eleanor Pike?” Hannah furrowed her brow. For some reason, the name rang a bell.
“You must have met her at Thomas Bard’s wake,” Julien said. “The older woman with the hat? Very tall.”
“And very scary,” Hannah said, nodding. “She held your father’s wake?”
“I think she felt it was her duty. She wanted to watch over my mother,” Julien said. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, as though there was an invisible boundary he knew he couldn’t cross. Hannah didn’t know why she thought that. But there it was. “Anyway, she told me that I had to take care of my mother now. That it was up to me to hold up my family and, in the process, honor Nantucket’s history and everything that had come before.”
Hannah gaped at him. “You were ten. Why would she say that?”
Julien brought his shoulders to his ears, as though the idea had never occurred to him. As though it were common to tell a ten-year-old to take the reins. But all at once, Julien was on his feet, abandoning the rest of his glass of wine. “I’d better be on my way,” he said. “I’m needed at the dock bright and early tomorrow.”
Hannah hated to see him go. She worried she’d said something wrong, that she hadn’t held his story appropriately, that she’d failed him in some way. She got up and followed him to the foyer, watching with desperation as he zipped his Carhartt. For some reason, she wanted him to stay. Perhaps she wanted him to stay the night, although she knew it was too soon.
Maybe it would never happen at all.
Just before she got up the nerve to say something, the door burst open to reveal Minnie. She was red-cheeked and gasping, as though she’d just finished sobbing. Hannah knew it had to be Viggo, that already, that islander had broken her darlingdaughter’s heart. Anger shot through her. But when she peered behind Minnie to find Viggo and his convertible, there was nothing.
“Is everything all right?” Julien asked Minnie, beating Hannah to the punch.
Minnie flared her nostrils and looked at first Hannah, then Julien. “Everything is fine,” she said, trying to fix her face. But she’d never been a good actress, bless her.
“Did Viggo drive you home?” Hannah asked.
“Yes?” Minnie glared back.
“Did you have a fight?” Hannah asked.
Minnie rolled her eyes. “No! We did not!” She tugged at her hair, then bowed her head and barreled up the newly built stairs. She didn’t comment on how smooth and straight they were now. But Hannah knew better than to expect something like that from a teenager.
When Hannah returned her gaze to Julien, he offered her a soft smile.
“I would like to see you tomorrow,” he said gently. “I always want to see you.”
Hannah’s heart cracked at the edges. “Me too.” She told herself to rise on her tiptoes and kiss him. She told herself to make the first move. But before she could, he bent down and kissed her. Her knees turned to goo, and her heart melted in her chest. And for a few seconds, they remained in a gorgeous and warm embrace. Hannah couldn’t remember Kendall ever kissing her like this. She couldn’t remember ever giving in like this. She couldn’t remember such glorious love.
When their kiss broke, they were too embarrassed to say much of anything. Julien raised his hand and said, “Good night,” then disappeared into the darkness, where he dipped into his pickup and drove away.
Upstairs, Hannah knocked on Minnie’s door and asked if she could come in. But Minnie asked Hannah for privacy, telling her, “I’m just upset, okay? I can’t talk.”
Hannah’s heart couldn’t take the delirious joy from the kiss and the horror of her daughter’s heartbreak. She sighed inwardly and said, “I’m going to make you some popcorn, okay? I’ll set it outside your door.” She went downstairs and popped a big bag of it, then came back and delivered it with a bottle of sparkling water and a note on which Hannah had writtenI love you.
It was all she could do.
An hour or so later, Hannah fell asleep. When she woke up in the morning, she saw that Minnie had, eventually, taken the popcorn and sparkling water. Hannah was pleased about this. An appetite was an important thing in a young woman. It was important for everyone!
Hannah decided to go downstairs and start breakfast. Back in college, back when she’d wanted to be very trim to keep up with the interests of that handsome and manipulative business student, Kendall Moore, Hannah had never eaten breakfast. She’d hardly eaten anything at all. But—even if Viggo had broken up with Minnie—Hannah didn’t want Minnie to whittle herself down to nothing. She wanted her to start the day with nutrients.
Maybe they could do something together today. Go for a hike or go to the beach. Maybe, just for today, Hannah would tell Julien she had plans and pour all her energy into time with Minnie.
