When the Stars Sang Read online

  For a long moment, they looked at each other, the wind whipping Molly’s hair. Then she got in and drove away.

  Kathleen stood, letting the wind buffet her. She and Molly hadn’t spoken since the day they’d gone to Big Sister, since we kissed. And then the whole thing with Susannah felt like a wall had been dropped between them. Kathleen hadn’t called or sought Molly out. She didn’t know what to say. But Molly hadn’t come by, either. Maybe we should just leave it at a kiss.

  She called to Blossom. He bounded in her direction, barking at the circling gulls. Together, they made their way back to the cottage as the first raindrops began to splatter.

  THE STORM RAGED, THE rain turning to sleet and then to snow as the system intensified. Aidan was in his room, sleeping off his latest drunk. Molly had needed Joey’s help to sneak him upstairs where they had dumped him on his bed and pulled his wet clothes off him.

  “I’m not going any further than that,” Molly said firmly when they had stripped him down to his boxers. She threw a blanket over him and left.

  In her room—“Thank God I have my own room,” she mumbled—she peeled herself out of her own soggy clothes.

  She changed into sweats and flopped onto her bed. Switching on the bedside lamp, she opened the murder mystery she’d been reading and tried to get into the story. A few minutes later, she was lying with the book splayed across her stomach.

  Kathleen.

  Why did she rattle Molly so? What the hell was it about her that made Molly want to take care of her? She slapped the book shut and pushed herself up to sit on the edge of the bed.

  She’d meant to go back out there and check the oil in Kathleen’s tank. If the weather turned, there was always a good chance the oil tanker wouldn’t get back here for a December run, though they tried hard. But she hadn’t made it, finding all kinds of excuses not to go by the Halloran cottage. Ever since the trip to Big Sister—ever since you kissed her, you mean—everything felt more awkward.

  Almost forgotten in the crazy drama the day the ferry came—with Kathleen’s girlfriend—Bobby and Fred had brought the Thanksgiving turkeys and fixings for the market, as well as some Christmas trees. Down in the kitchen, she heard her mom rattling around, probably baking more pies. Molly doubted they’d last the week between now and Thanksgiving, but she sure liked having pumpkin and apple and pecan pie in the house. She went to the window, staring out at the swirling snow.

  Giving up on her book, she went downstairs. The scent of cinnamon and cloves and nutmeg filled the house.

  “Can I help?”

  Jenny looked up from where she was rolling out dough. “Yes.”

  The surprised tone of her voice shamed Molly that she didn’t do this often enough. The boys never did, Molly thought resentfully, and it didn’t seem to bother them one little bit.

  Jenny put her to work peeling and slicing apples.

  “How’s your brother?”

  Molly dropped her apple. She scrambled to pick it up before Minnow could bat it around the floor. She rinsed it at the sink.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Molly, I’m not stupid.” Jenny kept her head down, leaning on her rolling pin.

  “I know you’re not.”

  “None of you have ever snuck by me.” Jenny’s mouth twitched. “Even when you thought you could climb down from your bedroom window without me knowing.”

  Molly gaped at her mother for a minute and then resumed peeling her apple. She dropped a curly strip of peel for Minnow to play with.

  “You know about Aidan then?”

  “It’s a small island, Mo. Hard to hide anything here.” Jenny wrapped the flattened dough around her rolling pin and laid it over the pie plate. “What set him off this time?”

  “Who knows?” Molly heard the resentful edge in her own voice, but she couldn’t help it. “The storm? He never says. Just promises it won’t happen again. Until it does.”

  Jenny was quiet for a moment as she pressed the dough into the plate. She picked up a bowl of pumpkin mixed with spices and poured it into the waiting dough.

  “Your father and I know it’s kind of weird, growing up on this island. On the mainland, you and your brothers would all have moved out into places of your own.”

  “Maybe not Joey,” Molly said.

  Jenny chuckled. “Okay, maybe not Joey. But it’s not normal for thirty-somethings to still be living under their parents’ roof. We’ve tried to leave you to make your own decisions about coming and going, who you spend time with, and how you spend it.”

  Molly had never really thought of her parents actively deciding to let them live their lives. “We’ve tried to be respectful of you and Dad.”

  “We know that. We can’t help but worry when the boys are out fishing, or when you’re up on someone’s roof, but for the most part, I think we’ve achieved a good balance.”

  Jenny smoothed the pie filling with a spatula before sliding the pie plate into the oven.

  “But we have to do something about Aidan,” she said quietly.

  Molly bit her lip. “I’ve tried. I don’t know what to do for him. Or with him.”

  “He’s never stopped blaming himself.”

  Molly set her apple and knife down, bracing her hands on the counter, her head bowed. “If there was one day I could undo, it would be that one.”

  Jenny leaned against the counter, wiping her floury hands on a towel. “What did you have to do with it?”

  Molly closed her eyes, picturing the way Aidan and Joey and some of the other boys had surrounded Bryan, taunting him, calling him “offlander”, daring him to prove himself.

  “We all knew the storm was coming,” she said in a hushed voice. “I tried to stop Aidan, but Joey grabbed my arms and held me. They shouldn’t have gone out, but they were calling each other stupid names, and neither one wanted to back down. I should have fought harder, made Aidan listen.”

  Jenny reached out to tuck Molly’s hair behind her ear. “You’re no more to blame than Aidan. It was terrible, and they were foolish. You were kids. Where were the adults? Why didn’t we stop it?”

  Molly looked into her mother’s tear-filled eyes. “You couldn’t keep an eye on us every minute. The island kids knew better. Aidan thought he could get out to the buoy and back before the storm got here.” She swiped her sleeve angrily across her own eyes. “I told him I didn’t blame anyone, but I’m sick and tired of paying for his stupid mistake!”

  “No more,” Jenny said, folding her towel and taking a deep breath. “We’re a family. When one of us is hurting, we all hurt. We’ll all step up more to help Aidan.”

  Molly picked her apple back up and began to slice it while Jenny sifted flour for a new piecrust. For a few minutes, they worked in silence. Molly felt a bit calmer.

  “I’d like you to invite Kathleen for Thanksgiving,” Jenny said.

  “Mom, no!” Molly put her knife back down.

  “Why on earth not? That poor girl is alone. Do you really want her to spend the holiday by herself?”

  Molly opened and closed her mouth. She huffed as she picked her knife up yet again and concentrated on her apple.

  “Molly Ahearn Cooper, you got the whole island to help her when she needed it. And you’re afraid to ask her to join us for dinner?”

  Molly ground her teeth. “I’m not afraid.”

  She heard the amusement in her mom’s voice as she said, “Well, that’s that then.”

  KATHLEEN HAD TO HUNT to find Nanna’s snow shovel buried in a closet off the back porch, hidden behind brittle, old, rubber galoshes and several rakes. Blossom launched himself into a foot of snow that had drifted against the house in the winds. She threw a few snowballs for him, laughing when he stood staring down into the snow, wondering where they’d gone. She shoveled a path around the house and out to her car. She was sweeping the snow off her Nissan when Molly’s SUV pulled into the drive.

  For a long moment, she stared at Molly through the windshield. Her heart was p
ounding, as it had the day Susannah had shown up—but it’s not the same at all, she thought.

  Molly got out, holding something. “My mom sent you an apple pie.”

  She trudged through the snow, bracing herself when Blossom came barreling toward her. She grinned and patted his snow-covered head. “Hello, little man. Looks like you’ve recovered.”

  “I think he likes the snow,” Kathleen said. She gestured toward the house. “Want a cup of coffee to go with a slice of pie?”

  “Let me help you clean your car off first.” Molly set the pie on her warm hood and reached into the back seat for a scraper.

  Together, they brushed and swept the car clean.

  Kathleen stood staring at her drive. “I’m not really sure why I bothered. It’s not like this car can go anywhere in this much snow. I don’t suppose the island has a plow?”

  Molly laughed. “Not officially. A few people have plows for their trucks. Give it a day or two, and they’ll have the ring road plowed enough to navigate.” She looked down the long drive to the road. “I’ll talk to one of them about coming by to plow this for you.”

  “Thanks. Come on in and get warm.”

  Molly followed her, stopping on the porch to stomp most of the snow off her boots. Inside, they both took their boots off, leaving them on a towel Kathleen had placed there.

  Molly hung her jacket up while Kathleen used another towel to dry Blossom. When she straightened, her glasses were so steamed up that she could hardly see.

  “I’ll be right back,” Kathleen said. She disappeared upstairs and returned a minute later with clear glasses and a pair of thick socks, her own feet now sporting fleecy slippers. “Your feet will be freezing.”

  Molly was leafing through some pencil sketches—mostly of Blossom—lying on the ottoman. “Sorry, hope you don’t mind.”

  “I… no.”

  “These are really good.”

  “Thanks.” Kathleen blushed and held out the socks.

  Molly sat down to pull them on over hers. “You’re being careful with your heat.” She followed Kathleen into the kitchen. “I’ll check your oil while I’m here. Our supply tank is low. I placed an order for oil. They’ll get here if they can.”

  Kathleen scooped coffee into a filter. “They might not?”

  Blossom curled up under the table, resting his head on his toy rabbit as he watched them.

  “Depends on the weather. They try. Bobby will do everything he can to get here. He’ll have most of the Christmas presents people have ordered, and more Christmas trees. He and Fred are kind of Little Sister’s Santa Claus.”

  “I saw some Christmas trees down at the market. Why are we bringing trees over on the ferry?”

  “We don’t cut trees on Little Sister,” Molly said.

  “Ever?”

  “Not if we can help it. We’re not big enough to rotate timber cutting, and we need the trees we have to stabilize the soil against storms. Not everything grows in the salt air and winds.”

  Kathleen got two plates down from the cupboard while the coffee maker gurgled. “The people on this island have thought of everything.”

  “We’ve had to make do for a long time.”

  Kathleen reached into a drawer for a knife and forks. She sat down and looked into Molly’s eyes. “Like figuring out how to get Susannah off the island?”

  “Ah, that.” Molly gave an embarrassed chuckle and looked down at her hands.

  Kathleen was hungry after all that shoveling. She cut two generous slices of pie. “How much did you have to do with that?”

  “It didn’t take much,” Molly said ruefully. “Just a nudge. Wilma and Mom were mostly responsible.” She snuck a glance at Kathleen. “Was it okay that we interfered like that? Did you want her to stay? Or did you want to go?”

  Rather than answer, Kathleen got up to pour the coffee. Standing with her back to Molly, she said, “I didn’t want to go. And I didn’t want her to stay. I was trying to get her to understand that when…” She came back to the table and set a mug in front of Molly. “Let’s just say Wilma and Louisa’s timing was perfect.”

  Molly grinned and ate a few bites.

  “Oh, my gosh,” Kathleen mumbled around a mouthful. “This is so good.”

  Molly nodded. “My mom is a very good cook.” She poked at her pie with her fork. “She’s pretty. Susannah.”

  “She is,” Kathleen agreed. “I always thought she was beautiful. And I always wondered why she was with me.”

  Molly shook her head. “You shouldn’t have wondered that.”

  Their eyes met, and Kathleen felt a flutter in her stomach.

  “Was it hard? Seeing her?”

  Kathleen gripped her coffee mug, trying to figure out how to explain. “It was hard not doing what I’ve always done,” she said at last. “I’ve always accepted her apologies and said it was okay and that I knew she didn’t really mean it. I didn’t say any of those things this time.”

  Molly was still watching her. “How did she take that?”

  “Not very well. And that was when Miss Louisa called.”

  Molly choked back a snort, and Kathleen grinned. A second later, they were both laughing so hard they had tears running down their faces.

  “You should have seen Olivia,” Kathleen said when she could talk. “That performance was Oscar-worthy.”

  “I didn’t know they were going to do that,” Molly said.

  “But it worked.” Kathleen took another forkful of pie. “I don’t know how I would have gotten her back on that ferry. And to have her here for a month…”

  The silence between them shifted. Kathleen felt the change, the tension.

  “We haven’t talked about what happened on the boat,” Molly said softly.

  “No.” Kathleen kept her eyes lowered.

  “Are you sorry?”

  “No,” Kathleen said quickly, raising her gaze to Molly’s. “I’m not sorry, but…”

  “But what?”

  “What I said a minute ago, about not doing what I’ve done before. I don’t want to repeat my mistakes.” At the hurt expression on Molly’s face, Kathleen reached out impulsively and took her hand. “You’re not a mistake. That’s not what I meant. But I’ve never been on my own. This is new to me, and I’m still trying to figure out who I am on my own. Can you understand that?”

  Molly flipped her hand over to intertwine their fingers. “I can. When you’ve figured it out, I’ll be here.”

  For a moment, the contact between them was electric. Kathleen stared at their hands. They looked so natural, linked together. What are you waiting for?

  Reluctantly, Molly pulled her hand away.

  “By the way, I’ve been instructed by my mom to invite you to our house for Thanksgiving.”

  “Really? I’m kind of surprised Little Sister does Thanksgiving. You know, the whole Pilgrim and Indian thing.”

  Molly grinned. “Well, my aunt would school you on how that really happened, but we mostly like to feast. We’re more Whoville than Plymouth that way.”

  “Well, I’d love to come. Tell your mom I’ll bring Nanna’s sweet potatoes. I found the recipe. For some reason, there’s lots and lots of brandy involved. Alcohol seems to be an island staple.”

  The smile slid off her face as soon as the words were out. “Molly, I’m so sorry.”

  Molly gazed into her coffee cup. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s not your fault. Aidan is going to have to figure out how to live with his mistakes.” She sighed. “I’m not going to let them dictate my life any longer.”

  BLOSSOM’S COAT GLEAMED, thanks to a thorough brushing and a wiping down with a damp towel. It was too cold to give him a bath, but Kathleen was determined.

  “You can’t go there smelling like a dog.”

  Blossom just thumped a back foot against the floor when she found a tickly spot on his flank with the brush.

  She checked the oven. The sweet potatoes were about done. She’d lined one of Nanna’s basket
s with a heavy towel to carry the hot pan.

  With nothing left to do but wait until it was time to go, she sat at the kitchen table and nervously toyed with the handle of her coffee mug. She’d thought briefly about calling her parents to wish them a Happy Thanksgiving, but had hung the phone up without dialing.

  Her mother was probably shut away in her room. Her father was most likely trying to close some real estate development deal. The same things they did every day. Holidays didn’t change any of that.

  She’d only gone home with Susannah the one time—it had been like walking a minefield. Everyone had been on edge, waiting to see if her father would explode. Kathleen herself, her mere presence, had been enough of a trigger to set him off. He wasn’t a drunk. Even Kathleen’s mother would have behaved better than he did. He was just a controlling, abusive bastard, Kathleen thought bitterly now. An executive with a local bank, supposed pillar of the community. The entire family worked to hide their dirty little secret. Part of her ached for the fact that Susannah couldn’t or wouldn’t distance herself from that mess.

  You tried, she reminded herself. She made her choices.

  The oven timer startled her. She pulled the potatoes out and set them on the stovetop to cool for a few minutes while she went upstairs to finish dressing.

  Brushing her hair, she realized she needed a haircut. Not that her hair was styled in anything fancy, just layers that had hung above her collar when she’d arrived on the island. It was past her shoulders now. It was actually long enough to pull into a tail. She gathered it in her hand, studying the difference it made in how open her face was and decided to leave it loose.

  She hadn’t asked Molly how people would be dressed, but decided she couldn’t go wrong with khakis and a sweater.

  Outside, fresh snow covered the ground. She figured this would be a steady thing until spring. Blossom hopped into the back seat, settling on another towel she’d laid there. She placed the basket in the front passenger seat to be safe.