The Edge of the Light by Elizabeth George
Diana turned from excavating in a kitchen cupboard for a bag of marshmallows. “I can’t let you do that,” she said. “Dog poop? That’s pushing our friendship to the limit, Becca.”
“It’ll be how I pay you for helping me manage the whispers.” Becca returned to the kitchen with the chocolate, and she rustled in the fridge for the milk. She saw it was nonfat and she held it up in a salute. “Well, at least we only have to feel partially guilty.”
She said nothing more about the purpose of her visit until they’d taken their hot chocolate to the sunroom, where Oscar was enjoying the heated floor. Diana chose the chaise longue after setting her robe and slippers to one side, while Becca sat nearby in a wicker chair. Usually, the beach cottages down on Sandy Point were visible from Diana’s sunroom. But today only the environs of Diana’s garden could be seen. The fog was getting thicker instead of dissipating, and Becca gave a worried thought to Derric driving to La Conner virtually blind.
Diana said, “Something tells me this isn’t a social call.”
“I guess it usually isn’t, huh?” Becca replied.
“I’ve no problem with that.” Diana reached for an afghan at the foot of the chaise and she spread it across her legs. “Tell me.”
Becca recounted everything she’d learned from her time on the Internet in Langley’s library: from Connor West’s implication of her and her mom in the embezzling scheme that he and Jeff Corrie had come up with to what Parker Natalia had informed her about his failures to unearth Laurel Armstrong. But what she stressed most was the dangers that she saw looming ahead because of the reporter Olivia Bolding. A Pulitzer Prize nominee whose specialty was investigative reporting . . . ? There wasn’t going to be a single place for Becca to hide on Whidbey Island if the reporter decided that this Hannah Armstrong part of the embezzling story was intriguing.
“I got to find my mom, Mrs. Kinsale. We got to find some place better than this for me and for her.”
Diana looked thoughtful. “I can see it’s serious. But are you completely certain that Nelson is where your mother was going?”
“Absolutely.”
“Yet people do change their minds.”
“She wouldn’t’ve.” Becca adjusted her position in the chair in order to emphasize what she said next. “See, she always watched this film that was made in Nelson. It was, like, three times a year that she watched it.”
“Perhaps she merely liked the film.”
“No. It was like she was looking for someone among the extras. I swear that’s what it was like. There’s someone up there and she meant to find him.”
“‘Him’?”
Becca circled her hands around the mug of hot chocolate and let its warmth give her the courage to voice what she had long suspected. “I think it’s my dad,” she said. “I think she’s gone to my dad and he’s hiding her there. She’s never told me who he is or where he lives or even how they got together. But this thing with her always watching that dumb film and then heading for Nelson once she left me here . . . Do you see?”
Diana set down her chocolate and extended her hand to Becca. Becca took it, knowing what would happen. It would be warmth and a lifting of her anxiety, her worry, and her pain of not knowing. As always that was what occurred. But still Becca had to ask the question that had brought her to Diana Kinsale’s house in the first place, although she felt a stinging of tears when she next spoke.
“What’s going to happen, Mrs. Kinsale?”
“I don’t have the power to tell you that.”
“But one time . . .” Becca felt a tear escape her right eye, and, impatient with herself for allowing her fears to get the better of her, she said, “You told me one time that Mom’s safe from anyone being able to find her. You must know more.”
“I wish I did. But that’s all I’ve ever felt about your mother. Safe is all that I can tell you.”
10
The arrangement for Prynne to move to Whidbey Island went as close to clockwork as anything could. One of the guys she lived with drove her and her belongings down to the Port Townsend ferry, and Seth and Gus picked her up on the other side. Prynne’s mode of transportation was a Vespa GTS, which had enough speed to be useful even on the island’s one highway, but she would be bringing it over later. No way could she manage to cart her belongings with her on the Vespa. So it was remaining in Port Townsend until she could get back there and pick it up.
And she would be going to Port Townsend fairly often, she’d told Seth as they’d made their final arrangements. He understood that, didn’t he? She wanted to keep her personal space for a getaway. Plus, she had a gig twice a month on Saturday afternoon and evening, and no way could she afford to give that up. It was a chance to get her music heard by people who knew that the town was a bluegrass haven.
Seth was okay with this. She was doing his family a big favor, and he told her that he would stay alone with his grandfather on those Saturdays when she had to go to Port Townsend. So everything between them had gone smoothly and well. And now here he was, trundling along the road in the evening’s early winter darkness and seeing in the distance the lights from the ferry as it made its way into the bay where the dock was sheltered in a crescent of water.
Prynne came off the ferry at the head of the crowd of walk-on passengers. Seth took this as a good sign. He wanted her to be as happy about the arrangement he’d developed as he was. It meant more time together; it meant actually living together; it felt like they’d turned a corner in their relationship.
She wore a pack on her back. She carried her fiddle in its case, and she carted along behind her a duffel on wheels. Seth embraced her and he kissed her soundly. In the lights from the ferry dock, she seemed to sparkle.
“Hey you,” she said to him with a smile. “Here’s the girl, reporting for duty.”
“Hope it’s not all duty.” Seth took the duffel from her as Gus bumped around them, waiting for Prynne to notice him.
She did, with half of a sugar cookie. She said to Seth, “Can I?” as Gus immediately sat and waited for the windfall. When Seth said sure, she gave the cookie to Gus and giggled as he snarfed it down in one gulp and raised his head with a hopeful expression on his face. “Nope,” she told him. “That’s it, you.” She linked her arm with Seth’s and said, “Let’s get this show started. You sure it’s okay with your parents?”
“They’re cool with it.”
It certainly seemed that way when they arrived at the Darrow house. Rich shouted hello from the open doors of his glass studio, where he was finishing his work for the day, and Amy turned from the stove as they walked into the house and said, “I bet you two are hungry,” as if Prynne had been living there for years.
Seth led the way to his bedroom. Prynne looked concerned when she saw the bed. She said, “You didn’t tell me it was only a single.”
“We’ll fit,” he replied. “We’re not big. No problem.”
“Seth can always sleep on the sleeping porch if there’s not enough room.” Amy had come to the doorway, a wooden stirring spoon in her hand. “That’s where he slept while Sarah lived at home. With the storm shutters in place and the woodstove going, it’s perfectly fine.”
Prynne looked at Seth and said, “I hate to put him out of his room,” and when Seth said, “I’m glad to hear that,” she got red in the face. She turned to his mom and blurted out, “But I got to say . . . I feel sort of weird about the situation, Mrs. Darrow.”
“It’s Amy, please,” Seth’s mom replied. “As for feeling weird, I understand. But please try not to. Seth’s probably told you that Rich and I had two children before we got around to saying ‘I do’ to each other.”
“I’m not sure if me and Seth . . . if Seth and I are going to take things that far,” Prynne said.
Seth felt a little sinking of spirits at this, but his mom seemed to take it the way it was intended, for she s
“Yum,” Prynne said and told Seth’s mom she’d be out in a second to help her. But Amy told her just to unpack, and she closed the bedroom door to let this happen with some privacy.
“Told you,” Seth said. “You get the right side of the bed. Thought you might like the bedside table. I’ll take the window side. It’s colder there.”
He lifted her duffel to the bed and showed her that he’d emptied out three of the drawers in the dresser for her use. He leaned against the bedroom door and settled in to enjoy the sight of his girlfriend unpacking. But he felt a little stirring of consternation when the first things she brought out of the duffel were a baggie crammed with weed, rolling papers, a small glass pipe, and a box of matches.
Prynne seemed to know what he was feeling. She looked over at him and said, “Seth. Come on. . . .”
He tried to sound casual. “It’s okay,” he told her. “Only, you got to do it outside. And . . . well . . . you can’t at Grand’s. I mean, it would sort of keep you from doing what you’re s’posed to be doing there.”
“I’m not a dummy,” was her reply. And then with a sharper and closer look at him, “You sure you’re cool with this? With me smoking weed now and then?”
“You got to do what you got to do. Lemme show you where to stow your bathroom stuff.”
There was only one bathroom in the house, and it wasn’t large, containing the smallest tub on the planet, a shower large enough for one person who was able to keep arms and elbows under control at all times, a toilet, a pedestal sink, and a shelf holding towels. He knew it appeared, at first glance, that there was no place for Prynne to put a thing. But he showed her how the room’s single cupboard cum medicine cabinet was cleverly disguised as part of the room’s knotty pine paneling. He pushed upon it at the right spot, and the cupboard opened.
“Damn. Sorry,” Seth said as he took in the jumble of things inside. “I forgot to get this set up for you.”
The cabinet contained everything from cleaning supplies to suppositories, with no particular sense to what went where. Seth began shoving things to one side to make a spot for Prynne. Toothpaste, mouthwash, deodorants, more towels, toilet paper, aspirin, his mom’s meds, remedies for colds and cold sores and sore muscles and sore throats, holistic this and naturopathic that, extra towels of all sizes and colors . . . Seth shoved things around till a small square was clear.
“Dad hates to throw away stuff,” he said.
“You think?” Prynne laughed. “I’ll straighten this up for you later.”
“Epic.” Seth watched her for a moment. A warmth came over him that prompted him to say exactly what was on his mind. “Can I tell you something?” And when she nodded, “I’m really looking forward to bedtime.”
She smiled. “Why? D’you want a bedtime story?”
“You’re the story,” was his reply.
• • •
IT WAS TWO days later when Seth and Prynne went with Rich Darrow to Ralph’s place. Becca was there, waiting for them, and together the four of them anticipated the arrival of Steph Vanderslip, who would evaluate the safety of the house as transformed by Seth and his crew. Everything she’d required was now in place: the ramp built and tightly covered with chicken wire to prevent a slick surface in the rain, handrails mounted where they were needed both inside and outside the house, a hospital bed brought in and placed in Becca’s former bedroom, a stool in the shower, and a new chair in the living room that would make it easier for Ralph to rise.
If Steph Vanderslip put her stamp of approval on everything, they were in business and Ralph’s return would occur within days. To enhance this possibility, Seth’s dad had made contact with South Island Home Care, and during the coming week, he would be interviewing eight caregivers. From this group, he would hire two of them: one to be with Ralph from seven in the morning till three in the afternoon, and the other from three in the afternoon till eleven at night. The family had hoped for round-the-clock care for Ralph once they learned that this was a service provided by and paid for by the state of Washington. But they’d also learned that Ralph’s condition didn’t warrant that. They could still have round-the-clock care, naturally, but one-third of it would have to come out of the family’s funds, and neither Rich nor his dad had those funds. His sister had the cash, of course. But no way was Brenda going to fork over any dough so that her dad could do exactly what she didn’t want him to do: live at home.
When Steph Vanderslip arrived, Becca was the one who saw her first. She’d been at the window, playing around with the earbud that connected to her hearing device. In and out of her ear, like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to hear what was going on. She said, “She’s here,” and dropped the earbud to her side. She fussed around with the box at her waist as Rich and Seth went to the door to greet the health care specialist.
The first thing Steph Vanderslip said was, “Impressive driveway,” about the way she’d descended to Ralph’s house. She’d come to them from the area of Ralph’s shop instead of down the hillside, and she nodded in that direction, where a fan of hard surface meant that Ralph could get into and out of a car or van without having to struggle with the old hillside path.
Steph Vanderslip shook hands with both Seth and his dad. She evaluated the ramp Seth had built, testing its surface and its handrails and stepping back to examine its angle. She said, “Good work. Who did it?”
Rich said, “Seth and his friends did it all.”
“You’re quite a craftsman,” she said to Seth. “Let’s go inside.”
Within, Seth introduced her to Becca and Prynne. Steph shook hands with them but was all business afterward. Seth saw that Becca’s eyes got narrow as the health care specialist went from room to room, testing this and that. She squatted to look at the way the handrails had been mounted, she sat in the new chair and tested how easy it was to rise from it, she squeezed the bumpers that were fixed to the hearth to make sure their thickness was sufficient, and from there she went to Becca’s former bedroom and the bathroom while the rest of them waited for her coming verdict.
“I’ll be hiring two home health care aides this week,” Rich told her when she at last emerged. She was writing something on a paper affixed to a clipboard she was carrying. “There’ll be two shifts, ending at eleven. Becca here will be with him during the night and Prynne will be with him as a backup during the day.”
Steph Vanderslip looked up from what she was writing. Her brow was furrowed. “Why?” she said. “I understand why Becca will be here at night, but why the other?”
Seth could tell his dad was trying to work out exactly what to tell the health care specialist. He went with, “Basically to reassure my sister. She’s been thinking Dad would do better in assisted living with more than one person there to make sure he’s okay.” He didn’t add the rest: that Brenda hadn’t agreed to anything they were doing.
He saw Becca watching him intently. Then she looked from him to his dad to Steph Vanderslip, who was tapping her pen rapidly against the clipboard and who also didn’t look too pleased to learn there was a division in the family.
She said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She’ll come around when she sees how well Dad does at home,” Rich reassured her.
“I hope so. I don’t want your father walking into a family disagreement. That can make a hash of the progress he’s made, and his blood pressure can’t do with any spikes. He also must continue to make progress in speech therapy. You understand that, right?”
“That’s going to happen,” Rich told her. “And if it comes down to having a professional here twenty-four/seven, we’ll go that route. Meantime, I’m five minutes from here. If Becca needs me to come
Steph nodded thoughtfully. She jotted a last few items in her paperwork and said, “Let’s start out with trying this for a week and see how it works, Mr. Darrow.”
11
Jenn was surprised the next day when Cynthia Richardson not only stopped by the table where she and her pals were eating lunch, but also pulled out a chair and joined them. For a second she thought something had gone bad between Cynthia and Lexie Ovanov, since Lexie was with her but walked on toward their regular table against the far wall. Then Cynthia said to Lexie, “Be there in a sec,” and reached over to take a carrot stick from Becca’s lunch, saying, “Can I . . . ?” and “Thanks,” before Becca could answer.
Squat was there, too. So was Derric, and Seth’s former girlfriend Hayley Cartwright. Since Hayley was a senior like Cynthia, Jenn figured that Cynthia had come to talk to her about some brainy class they were taking together. But instead, she turned to Jenn as she removed a scrunchie that was holding her long blonde hair in a ponytail. Expertly, she fixed it back in place.
She said, “You’re going for the All Island team, right? That’s why you’ve been training after school?”
Jenn figured the other girl was about to tell her to give it up, along the lines of “You’re a hopeless case,” but when she nodded and told her that was the plan, Cynthia took another carrot stick from Becca and said, “Why don’t you train with me? You’re a good center midfielder, but you could be better. The competition’s going to be from every school on the island, and it’ll be tough.”
“I know. I went out last year. Didn’t make past the first day.”
“That sucks. How did you train?”
“Mostly I didn’t.”
“And she smoked,” Becca added. “Tell the truth, Jenn.”
Jenn gave her a shut-up look. Becca laughed. Derric said, “She speaks only the truth, girl.” And then he said to Cynthia, “She’s been smoking since grade school.”