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The women are all listening quietly, waiting for the big reveal. Sunday doesn’t want to keep them in suspense for too long, or drag them on with stories about rusty boats, the peculiar accent of the locals, or the pervasive smell of fish on Tangier Island, so she cuts to the chase. “They also heard about my brother’s death, my dad’s drinking and how abusive he got, and about how I got pregnant at seventeen and ran away from home for good.”
All sound has been sucked out of the room by this revelation, and when Sunday looks at the other women, she sees that they’re holding their collective breath as they wait for more.
“I got pregnant by my high school boyfriend, Irvin, and I knew right away that I didn’t want to take away his chance to leave the island for college, or take away my own chance at a future that was far bigger than anything I would have on Tangier. I also knew that whatever life we could offer a baby was nothing compared to what a family with more education, more life experience, and more means could do.”
“That’s brave,” Molly says softly, giving Sunday an encouraging nod.
“It was simply what I had to do. And on this trip, I realized that adopting my girls was my way of turning around and doing the same thing for another woman’s baby, giving it a home and a life and all the love that she—for whatever reason—couldn’t.”
The women are quiet and awed. Ruby is sitting next to Sunday and she reaches for her hand.
Sunday down at her lap. “It’s a huge part of my heart, and of who I am as a woman and a mother.”
“Do you think you’ll ever try to find the baby?” Heather asks, the plate in her lap ignored as she takes in the enormity of this story.
“Benjamin,” Sunday says, looking up to meet her eyes. “It was a boy, and they let me hold him, and told me that they were naming him Benjamin. And no, I wouldn’t go in search of him, but all these years I’ve been aware that he might come searching for me, and I would welcome it if he did.”
Heather stands up first. “Could I propose our very first group hug?” she asks, holding her arms wide. “If you’re not comfortable with it, don’t feel like you have to join, but I think that there are times when we just need to physically feel our friends wrapping around us, and this is one of those times.”
Ruby stands and helps Sunday to her feet, followed by Marigold, Harlow and Athena, Vanessa, Molly (somewhat reluctantly), and finally Tilly, who rolls her eyes so far back in her head that she looks like she no longer has irises. The women come together, at first a bit awkwardly, wrapping their arms around whoever is next to them. After the initial figuring and reconfiguring, they’re in a loose version of a group hug and the laughter starts. First, it’s Ruby, laughing because she’s somehow in the middle of the huddle next to Sunday. But then it spreads, and soon they’re all giggling.
“I haven’t even told you about Dexter yet!” Ruby shouts from the middle of the hug. “Should I just do that while we’re already standing here so that you all can support me when I keel over?”
“No!” Heather shouts, pulling away from the group. “No, no, no! Everyone gets their own group hug when they need it." She plops down in her chair and the other women go back to their seats.
“Alright,” Molly says, “we’ve talked babies and kids, so now let's talk men.”
Harlow and Athena make eye contact nervously, and Ruby catches it; she doesn’t want to upset her daughters by talking about a man other than Jack, but she recalls a book club meeting where Harlow very clearly stood in support of Ruby being able to live her own life going forward. Besides, the girls are old enough now to know that their mother isn’t going to (most likely) be a single woman entrenched in widowhood forever.
“Okay,” Ruby says, inhaling deeply through her nose and then breathing out as she sits, crosses one leg over the other, and straightens her spine. “First of all, New York was amazing. The weather was so beautiful, and we went to Fort Tryon Park—“
“But did you get down and dirty?” Marigold asks, holding her wine like she’s about to take a celebratory sip. Her eyes are dancing beneath her dark brows, and she tosses her loose hair back over one shoulder. “Tell us the good stuff, please.”
Ruby blows out a long breath and slumps back in her chair. “I came home early.”
“What? No! Why?” came the various shouts as the other women sit forward in their seats, waiting for more.
“Did he do something wrong?” Molly asks, shaking her head with a look on her face that says she’d expect nothing less from a man.
“No, god—no. It wasn’t him at all,” Ruby says, waving a hand back and forth. “Nothing like that. In fact, we went out and did fun things all over the city: we ate outside, sat in the park and looked at the fall leaves, went to a pumpkin flotilla at night, and then to a Christmas bazaar in the morning, it’s just…” Ruby pauses, picking at her cuticles as she considers how to phrase her feelings. “It wastoonice. I mean, we talked about serious stuff, which is always the goal for our face-to-face meetings, but we also had that really good, easy conversation that you have, you know…”
“When you’re catching feelings for someone,” Athena offers, looking a little sad. Ruby looks at her older daughter and remembers how hard she’d fallen for a guy named Diego who she worked with at the Library of Congress, and how the subsequent heartbreak had brought her to Shipwreck Key.
Ruby gives her daughter a private smile. “Exactly,” she confirms. “When we’re together, I sometimes forget that we’re actually supposed to be working. It starts to feel...”
“Like a date,” Marigold finishes for her, giving a knowing nod. “I know those kind of relationships, and they’re hard to define.”
“Do you think he feels the same way?” Heather asks hopefully. “You two would be really good together.”
Ruby laughs dryly. “Well. I don’t know about that. And I have no idea if he feels the same way,” she says, omitting the conversation they'd had at Fort Tryon Park where he admitted to being less than impartial about her. “But I do know that looking at him and thinking about whether or not he’s a good kisser is a fast way to derail this book project.”
“Ooooh!” Vanessa, normally quiet and more of an observer, bounces in her seat. “I love that. It’s so romantic. The two of you, strolling through the park and talking about your lives—it’s just so perfect.”
Everyone turns to Vanessa, watching as her eyes dance with the image of love blooming under the autumn sun in New York City. Ruby knows that Vanessa wants nothing more than to live the fantasy of true love, a happy marriage, and a beautiful family, but she’s living on an island where the prospects for love are minimal, at best, and as a fuller-figured girl with a quiet nature and a love of books, she has a hard time putting herself out there. There’s a sweetness and a naïveté to Vanessa that makes her entirely lovable.
“He’s something else,” Ruby allows. “Obviously good looking, smart, curious, and with depth, but…aside from the fact that we’re working on a professional project, there’s also the small matter of our vast age difference.” She can’t even bring herself to look at either of her daughters; the idea of their disapproval is more than she can bear.
Molly scoffs—a loud, disbelieving huff. “Come on, Ruby. That’s not real.”
