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The two women laughed together and finished their lunches. The rest of the afternoon they spent chatting about their lives, but neither of them told anything revealing.
Now, Amy put the food and plates on a tray and carried them outside. Faith and Zoë were sitting in silence, sipping their drinks, both staring off into nothing.
This is ridiculous, Amy thought. We can’t spend our time like this. “Zoë,” she said sharply, “go make a big pitcher of iced tea. Faith, help Zoë, then get the knives and forks and napkins and bring them out here.” When neither of the women moved, Amy said, “When we get everything out here, Faith is going to tell us a story about a man named Tyler.”
“Her husband?” Zoë asked, her voice bored.
“No. Tyler is the blindingly handsome young man who she let slip through her fingers. It’s a love that haunts her and pulls her back into time. It is the chain that binds her to the past. It is the love that was to be but never happened.”
Both Faith and Zoë were looking at Amy with their mouths open in astonishment.
Go!” Amy said as though she were speaking to her young children. They scurried into the kitchen with the urgency of schoolkids. As Amy set out the food, she smil
ed. Maybe this time here in Maine wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Four
“Will you two stop looking at me like I’m the village storyteller,” Faith said as she took a sip of her wine. They’d finished dinner, cleared up, and moved inside to the living room. Zoë had opened a bottle of chardonnay, poured glasses full, and they were seated and looking at Faith in expectation. “I really don’t have anything to tell.” She gave Amy a look that let her know she’d betrayed a confidence and Faith didn’t like it. It was one thing to tell something to a normal person, but to Zoë? No, thank you!
“Aren’t we supposed to talk about our traumatic lives and do Jeanne’s work for her?” Zoë asked.
“All right, then you tell us about you,” Faith said.
“Fine,” Zoë answered. “I woke up one day in a hospital with most of my body in bandages, and casts on both my legs. I didn’t remember what happened to me and I still don’t.”
“Who visited you in the hospital?” Faith asked, smiling sweetly.
“Jeanne has a big mouth,” Zoë said.
“What did I miss?” Amy asked, looking from one to the other.
“All Jeanne said was that an entire town was angry at Zoë. What I want to know is why.”
“I have no idea,” Zoë said.
“You asked them, didn’t you?” Amy said.
“No.”
Faith and Amy looked at each other.
“You mean that you have family and friends, they’re all angry at you, you don’t remember why, but you’ve never asked them what you did to make them hate you?” Amy asked.
“Strong words,” Zoë said. “Hate. Anger. No, I never asked anybody anything. When I didn’t remember a big part of my life, the court assigned me to Jeanne. I’ve been seeing her for over a year. Really boring.”
“But what about where you grew up? Do you have parents? Siblings?” Amy asked.
“I have a sister, but she wants nothing to do with me, so I want nothing to do with her. Could we stop this? I’d rather hear Faith’s story about love being lost.”
“What about a boyfriend?” Amy asked.
“That is another question I don’t know. I didn’t have one at the high school prom and that’s the last thing I remember. But then, there are a whole lot of years that I don’t remember. I woke up in a hospital with my head stapled together, and didn’t remember anything of the years after my prom.”
“Why—?” Amy began, but Zoë gave her such a hard look that she closed her mouth.
“Faith,” Zoë said, “you’re on. You entertain us while I make a few sketches.”
She picked up a big sketch pad and a pencil, drew up her knees, and looked at Amy as though she meant to start drawing her.
