Blue on Blue

Chapter Five

According to Wikipedia, Cayder Bay Island is ten miles off the Northern coast of Massachusetts. From mid-June to the end of August, 100,000 enthusiastic summer residents and tourists visit the quaint 100-square-mile island, swelling its roads and beaches to the brim. From September to May, the population shrinks to a minuscule 4,340 year-round residents. Connie and Maggie will make 4,342. 

How exciting.

Connie drives the car along the narrow sea bridge that connects the mainland to Cayder Bay. "Will you look at that?" she says, pointing at the sun sinking into the horizon. "Have you ever seen anything so --"

"Annoying?" Maggie squints, pushing the car visor down.

Connie squeezes the steering wheel until the pink in her knuckles drains white. "Look Maggie, things haven't been easy for me either." 

Maggie presses her sunglasses against her face. 

Connie takes a deep breath and lets it go. Ever. So. Slowly. "What I'm trying to say is, this will be a good change. For the both of us." She reaches over and slides the back of her hand down Maggie's cheek. "Just you wait and see," she says in this sing-song, all fun and easy way, like she used to do when Maggie was a kid. Connie would make songs up for the things Maggie wanted to do least of all, and before Maggie knew it, she was singing along while cleaning her room or brushing her teeth, or eating her vegetables. Connie always had a way of making the hard stuff seem less tough, but moving to a weird island to live with a complete stranger is a far cry from eating peas and carrots. 

Maggie stares out the window at the sunset. She can practically hear it hiss as it bleeds into the sea.

Connie follows the signs heading east to the Cove, around bending twists and turns, until she reaches a house, nearly the size of their entire apartment building back in Fallowshill. Maggie glances at the sign clinging above the front door – Cove Manor 1723.

"There's Jonathan," Connie announces, her whole face light and rosy. She rolls down the window and waves at the man standing on the front porch. And there he is, waving back at them - the eye of every storm that ripped through their home. "You ready, Maggie?" 

Maggie grabs her bag and opens the passenger-side door. "Ready?" she says under her breath. "Ready isn't real."

💙💙💙

Truth is, Jonathan seems like an ordinary guy, not the villainous home-wrecker Maggie imagined. He's stocky, but still a whole head and shoulders taller than Connie. His skin looks tough and leathery, like he has spent his life-time outdoors in the wind and sun. Maggie can feel thick callouses on the palm of his hand when she shakes it. His voice is low and raspy, and he smells like sweet tobacco, not like the herby stuff that Joe smokes. 

"Come in. Come in," he says. 

It's as if Maggie has walked onto the set of one of those home-designing shows that Connie watches. Cove Manor is a blend of old and new. From the front door, she can see clear through to the rear of the house where floor to ceiling windows overlook the sea. 

Jonathan waves them out onto the deck where he is grilling steaks and mixing drinks. A string of white lights wraps around the railing, leading down to the beach. "Charlie!" he calls out. "Come up here. There's someone I want you to meet."

Maggie squints, but it's too dark to see much beyond the deck.

"Comin', Dad!" 

Maggie gasps. "Dad?" 

Jonathan's mouth drops open. "You didn't tell her?"

Connie shrugs. "It never came up." 

Maggie's eyes widen. "Never came up? It should've come up!" Maggie rubs her forehead. Joe was right-- Connie can't help from keeping secrets. She's full of 'em.