Maggie’s hands tensed and she reached up to remove the mask.
“Maggie, don’t,” Louisa said.
But the old woman wanted to speak, even in her weakened state. She choked out one word: “Enough.” Slowly her gaze moved from Cody’s family to Louisa’s. “Forgive. Before it’s too late.”
Cody didn’t look at the rest of them—he couldn’t. He was too afraid all he would find on their faces was the same stubbornness that had always been there.
A cough silenced her just as two paramedics Cody knew from work rushed around the side of the house and down toward the beach. He stood, waving them over, then gave them her vitals and helped load her onto the stretcher.
“Is she going to be okay?” Louisa asked, her voice breaking midsentence.
“We’re going to do everything we can for her,” the paramedic said. They fastened the belt around Maggie, and Louisa let go of her hand as they wheeled her off.
“I’m going to the hospital,” Louisa told Ally. “Can you handle things here?”
“Of course.”
She ran off, her parents close behind, leaving him standing with his mom and sister.
“This is heavy,” Marley said.
His mom’s eyes had filled with tears. “I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
For a brief moment, he wondered if she was talking about Maggie or his father.
“Let’s go to the hospital,” he said. “We should be there.”
His mother looked away. “I don’t know if they want us there.”
“Who cares?” Marley said. “Maggie is our friend too. We should be there.”
“She’s right,” Cody said. “Maybe it’s time we start listening to what Maggie said.”
Anger flashed across his mother’s face. “What do you mean?”
“Mom—” he placed a hand on her arm—“aren’t you tired of being angry?”
Her jaw twitched.
“You loved them once. All of them.”
A tear slid down his mother’s cheek. “That was a long time ago.”
“I’m going to the hospital. Are you coming?”
His mother didn’t move for a long moment; then finally she nodded. “Let’s go.”
Louisa paced the waiting room of the Nantucket Cottage Hospital. Since they weren’t family, none of them were allowed to go back while Maggie was being examined. It was an absurd rule—she was more of a family to Maggie than anyone related to her by blood. And vice versa, sadly.
Her parents sat in the corner, Mom watching an HGTV show that droned on from a television mounted to the wall and Dad flipping through an issue of Forbes magazine. They’d only been there about ten minutes when Cody and his mom and sister walked in. Time stopped. He looked concerned, a line of worry deeply etched in his forehead.
He met her eyes. “Any word?”
“Not yet. We can’t go back because we aren’t family.”
His nod was followed by an unbearable beat of awkward silence.
“Do you mind if we wait with you?” he finally asked.
Louisa’s eyes drifted from Cody to his mom (who wasn’t looking at her) to Marley. “Of course not.” She motioned toward an empty row of chairs. Marissa and Marley sat.
“Should I get us coffee?” Cody asked.
It was strange, having a stilted conversation in front of the rest of them. She hated this distance between them. Hated that he was right in front of her and just out of reach.
“Do you guys want coffee?” she asked her parents.
“I’m okay,” they both said.
She turned back to Cody. “I guess we’re okay.”
“You’re okay?” His question was so earnest, it nearly broke her heart. She wasn’t okay. Not even close.
She nodded and sat down next to her mother, aware that her family was on one side of the room and his was on the other. Marissa whispered something to Marley, and JoEllen looked from the television to the pair of them. Never in her life had Louisa experienced this kind of tension. They sat in silence for what felt like hours but was, in reality, only minutes. She worked hard to avoid Cody’s eyes, praying silently that Maggie would be okay. She wasn’t ready to lose her yet.
Did anyone else in the room remember how it had felt to love each other? Did anyone else have memories of the good times? The laughter? The endless days and nights they’d spent together? Did anyone else want that back?
After about twenty minutes, Dr. Smithton Jeffries entered the room. A white coat covered his dress pants, shirt, and tie, and his face looked weary.
Louisa stood.
He met her eyes, and his face fell. “I’m sorry, Louisa.”
“No.” She heard the word in her own voice, but it sounded muffled and quiet, like she was underwater again.
“I think she was just ready to go home,” the doctor said.
Then she was underwater again, the waves knocking her over, stealing her breath. She tumbled upside down as her knees buckled. Cody was at her side in a flash, catching her, righting her, saving her.
No. No. No. No. Not today. Not Maggie.
Her mind spun. Her heart broke. The old woman was her touchstone—God couldn’t have needed her more than Louisa did.
Cody’s face was buried in her hair as he pulled her to his chest. The rest of the room went silent as she struggled, once again, for air. The doctor was still talking, but his voice faded as if he were an image on the television with the volume turned down. And then he walked away.
Cody led her to a chair, away from the others. They’d all gone. They’d all had lives somewhere else. Louisa had Nantucket, and that meant she had Maggie. In all her loneliness, she’d always had Maggie.
And now she didn’t. Now she had no one.
She covered her face with her hands and wiped her cheeks dry, aware that Cody’s body was so close to hers she could sink into him if she let herself. Instead, she tensed. She dug down deep and forced herself to be strong, the way Maggie taught her to be.
“Will you listen to her now?” she asked out loud to the entire room. She scanned their faces and found confusion on every one. “She told us to forgive. It was the last thing she said to us. Are any of you willing to listen? Is anyone willing to admit they were wrong? Is anyone able to say they’re sorry?”
Nobody spoke. Eyes collectively fell to the floor. Cody reached for her hand, but she tore it away.
“I’ll go first,” she said through tears. “I’m sorry for being stupid enough to think that if we were all together again, you would remember what it was like when we were family.”
“It wasn’t stupid, Lou,” Cody said quietly.
“It was,” she said sadly, her voice quivering. She looked at Marissa. “I’m sorry for what I did to Cody all those years ago. I’m sorry for everything that happened that night. If I could change it, I would—you don’t know how many times I’ve wished for that. How many letters I’ve written and not sent. How many prayers I’ve prayed.”
“Louisa.” Cody’s tone warned, but she couldn’t stop. She knew she was likely ruining any chance at absolving herself, but she had to continue.
She looked at her mom. “I’m sorry I accused you of having an affair with Daniel.”