Page 22 of The Quiet Rebuild

Winona was on her feet, trying to get Taylor’s attention. Taylor realized she was crying. Sobs made her shoulders shake. But she couldn’t explain herself. She pressed her phone to her chest, ashamed at what this text message had done to her. It was as though all the devastation of the previous few years was now fully crushing her.

She was a daughter without a mother. She was a wife without a husband. She was a woman without a dream, or a home, or a life.

“I’m going to get help,” Winona said, which proved just how bad Taylor looked. The woman who’d lost her entire family was worried about Taylor. Taylor wanted to tell herself to pull it together. But the shards of her psyche were scattered and lost.

As soon as Winona disappeared on the other side of the bluffs, another text came through Taylor’s phone. It read: Funeral next week. Let me know if you can make it.

Again, its flatness made Taylor feel as though she’d never known Veronica and Greg Charron, as though the mansion in which her mother had lived the past few years of her life hadn’t been purchased by Taylor, a result of Taylor’s efforts and Taylor’s talent.

Taylor’s hands shook. She had half a mind to call her father and demand answers. How had her mother died? Was it sudden? Did he need her help? But she was frozen.

Suddenly, she heard her name, here on Nantucket Island.

“Taylor, hey!”

Taylor turned to find one of Stella Vanberg’s daughters running toward her. A pair of binoculars bounced on her chest. Behind her was a curly-haired man she didn’t recognize, and behind them was Winona, panting and red-faced, having run all the way back to fetch help. Taylor told herself to feel embarrassed. She told herself to stew in shame. But she found that she couldn’t feel anything but tremendous loss.

Stella Vanberg’s daughter—the one called Lindsey, Taylor was pretty sure—sat beside her on the bench. The curly-haired man handed her a large bottle of water, and Lindsey urged her to drink. Winona hovered off to the side, her hands on her hips.

For a moment, everything was still. Taylor sensed that they were trying not to stare at her. They were waiting for her to pull it together enough to go back to the Harbor House.

Finally, her lips wet from more water, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m making such a scene.”

“You aren’t,” Lindsey said. “Nobody is around.”

Taylor blinked around at the barren beach, the bluffs of sand and grass, the blue sky above. She was dazed.

“Can we take you somewhere? Maybe to get something to eat?” Lindsey suggested.

“No,” Taylor said. She didn’t want to be recognized, not now.

“My car’s right over there,” the curly-haired man said, gesturing off to the left.

“They pulled up right before I left the trail,” Winona said. It meant she hadn’t had to go all the way back to the Harbor House. It meant nobody knew, which Taylor was grateful for.

“We can drive you somewhere,” the curly-haired man said. “You can rest in the car while we grab food for you. What do you think?”

Taylor raised her eyes to look at this man, this stranger. There was something about him that made her breathe easier, something that made him different from most people she’d encountered.

It occurred to her, then, to ask, “Do you know who I am?” But she didn’t ask it arrogantly.

The curly-haired man shook his head. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced. My name is Jake. I’m a bird-watcher. Winona mentioned you’re both staying at the Harbor House?”

Taylor blinked and blinked at him, mesmerized. She realized it was the first time she’d met someone who didn’t know who she was, maybe in decades. He looked at her as though she were a stranger. It was the most delicious feeling she’d ever known.

11

Lindsey sat in the back seat of Jake’s car, her hands wrapped tightly around her knees as they headed for downtown Nantucket. Taylor was in the passenger seat, sniffing, her eyes stirring with emotions that Lindsey couldn’t fathom.

Jake, who truly didn’t know Taylor Charron, was a calm and capable driver. He parked near the door, then turned to smile at Taylor and ask, “We’re going to get some food to take to the beach. What kind of stuff do you like?”

Taylor continued to look at Jake with confusion and gratefulness. “I like everything,” she said finally, shrugging, her voice so small.

Lindsey followed Jake into the bustling coffee shop, glancing behind her to watch as Taylor hid in the back seat of the car and covered her face. At the big glass counter, Jake bent to assess the breakfast pastries, the ham-and-turkey-and-cheese sandwiches, and the mini quiches. Lindsey’s heart swelled. All morning, they’d explored the island, and he’d pointed out birds and wildlife that she’d never appreciated before. Now, he was helping one of the women of the Harbor House. Was there any end to his goodness?

Into three large paper bags, they collected what they’d purchased: pain au chocolat, baguette with cheeses, three kinds of cheeses, and a bottle of chilled white wine, which Jake wanted them to share on the beach. “I want to celebrate the morning,” Jake explained as they headed back to the car. “We saw three species I didn’t imagine we’d find, especially not the first morning out. I wonder if you’re my good luck charm?”

“Ha. I don’t know about that.” Lindsey reached for the door handle, then stopped. “You really don’t know who that woman is, do you?”