to him?” she asked.
“Nice?” Dianne asked.
“To Alan,” her mother said. “When you saw him today …”
“Well …” Dianne said, remembering the look on his face as they’d left his office.
“Dianne?”
“Why does he have to remind me so much of Tim?” she asked.
“Oh, honey,” Lucinda said.
“They move in identical ways,” Dianne said. “Their voices sound the same. Alan’s hair is darker, but it gets light in the summer. He wears glasses, but when he takes them off …”
“Superficial similarities,” Lucinda said.
“I tell myself that,” Dianne said. “I feel so bad, holding this miserable grudge against him. But my stomach hurts every time I think of what Tim did. I lie awake hating him for hurting Julia, but I also hate him for leaving me too. It’s horrible, like I swallowed a rock.”
“Ouch,” Lucinda said kindly.
“I know. And every time I look at Alan, I think of Tim. He makes me think of all the hurt and betrayal, of how much I hate his brother –”
“No,” Lucinda said sharply. “That I don’t believe.”
“I do, Mom. I hate Tim.”
“But I don’t believe Alan makes you feel that way. He can’t. He wouldn’t-he’s too good. He cares for you and Julia, he’s always been there. Those feelings are yours alone. Wherever they come from, you’re taking them on yourself.”
Dianne thought of Alan’s eyes, how kind and gentle they were when he looked at Julia. She pictured his hands examining Julia’s body, holding her crooked hands as if they were the most precious things on earth.
“I know he’s good,” Dianne said quietly.
“Listen to me, honey,” Lucinda said. “When you talk about swallowing that rock, I can see what it’s doing to you. I can. You’re tough as can be, you carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, but those hard feelings are tearing you up.”
The reality of her mother’s words brought tears to Dianne’s eyes. Her stomach clenched, the rock bigger than ever. Once the sorrow over Tim’s departure had gone and the only things left were bitterness and anger and the rock in her stomach, Dianne had realized in a flash that she had made a mistake from the very beginning: She had chosen the wrong brother.
“I’m fine,” Dianne said.
“You say that, but I can see how worried you are. And then when Alan calls, you snap at him – as if it’s him you’re mad at instead of Tim. When he’s just trying to help.”
“Sometimes he gets me at a bad time,” Dianne said.
“With him it’s always a bad time,” Lucinda said.
“I’m tired, Mom,” Dianne said, uncomfortable with the conversation and the way her mother was smiling at her.
“When I retire,” Lucinda said, putting her arm around Dianne, “I’m going to spend some time taking care of you.”
Dianne’s throat ached. It felt so good to be loved. She closed her eyes and let her mother’s strength flow into her. She may have chosen the wrong brother, screwed up her life, but she had the best mother in the world.
“Julia and I have big plans for your retirement,” Dianne said.
“Oh, honey,” Lucinda said. “Not a party, okay? I know you want to do something for me, and I appreciate it, but I’m not the surprise-party type.”
“No party,” Dianne said.
“Besides, there’s the library dance,” Lucinda said. “I think they’re going to give me a plaque or something this year. I’ll have to pretend to be surprised. How’s this?” She made a Betty Boop face: round eyes and mouth, fingertips just brushing her jaw.
“Very convincing,” Dianne said, laughing.
“Not that I’m not appreciative,” Lucinda said. “I am – I love them all and I’ll miss them like crazy. But I’m ready, honey. My feet have been swollen for forty years, and I just want to kick these dumb oxfords right into the marsh and never see them again.”
“Julia and I will come up with something that involves bare feet,” Dianne said.
“Ahhh,” Lucinda said, closing her eyes in bliss, ticking off the time until July fifteenth.
“Gleee,” Julia said.
“Just imagine, Julia. I’ll have all this free time, I’ll be able to read all the books I’ve missed. Will you help me catch up?” Lucinda asked before opening her eyes.
Dianne exhaled slowly. Julia’s life was full of love, but it was so horribly, disgustingly unfair: to have her grandmother be the town librarian and be unable to read, to have her mother make real-life playhouses and be unable to play.
“Do you think she’s happy?” Dianne heard herself ask.
“Well, I know she is,” her mother said. “Just look at her.”
Dianne opened her eyes, and it was true. Julia was rolling her head in slow rhythms, as if she were keeping time with music in her head. She stared at Dianne. Lucinda touched Dianne’s shoulder, and Dianne leaned against her.
“My happy girl,” Dianne said, wanting to believe.
“Maaa,” Julia said. “Maaaaaa.”
Could a person die from loving too much? Could the weight of Julia crush her, squeeze the breath right out of her? Summer seemed like a sweet dream. Her mother would be retired; she, Dianne, and Julia could lie on the beach, feeling the hot sand under their backs, letting the breeze take away all their troubles.
“Go for a row, sweetheart,” her mother said. “I’ll stay with Julia.”
Dianne hesitated. She thought of that perfect white house down on the harbor: Lately all her own dreams went into the playhouses she built. Her own home was broken. Dianne felt hard and frozen inside. Her muscles ached, and she knew it would feel good to pull on the oars, slip through the marsh into open water.
“Thanks, Mom,” Dianne said.
Lucinda held her gaze. She was small and strong. Even without touching Dianne, her support and force were flowing into her. Outside, a light breeze blew through the golden-green rushes. Sea otters slid off the banks, playing in the silty brown water.
“Go,” her mother urged.
Nodding, Dianne ran down to the dock.
As kids, the McIntosh boys had lived by the sea. Neil, Alan, and Tim had grown up on Cape Cod, ten miles east of the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. Alan had spent several summers working in the hydrophone lab there. His mentor, Malachy Condon, told him he had the best ear for dolphin talk of any student he’d ever met. But Alan was destined to be a pediatrician.
Now, eighteen years later, on his Wednesday afternoons off Alan went to the library to read the latest issues of Delphinus Watch and Whale Quarterly–to keep up with his old interest and to see an old friend – Lucinda Robbins. The Hawthorne Public Library was two blocks from his house. But Alan went running first, so it took him forty-five minutes to get there.
“Did you do six miles?” Mrs. Robbins asked, standing behind the counter.
“Seven today,” he said.
She handed him a folded towel she had picked up from a cart of books to be reshelved.