Page 24 of Our Last Vineyard Summer

Virgie avoided the crack in the teacup as she sipped the Earl Grey. She changed the cross of her legs. It was awkward asking about a person’s cupboards, but if they were bare, Virgie could help. “I noticed James is hungry sometimes, that he doesn’t…” Virgie swept her eye toward the closed refrigerator, the sink without dishes from breakfast. “I can drop off groceries once a week, a few slices of turkey and bread.”

The woman’s soft eyes glared. “We don’t need handouts.”

“Of course not.” Virgie wished there was some way to let her know it was only kindness she was offering. An idea came to her. She wasn’t sure she should propose it, and her voice came out slow and unsteady. “I could use some help with cooking at my house. It wouldn’t pay a lot, about ten dollars for three nights a week, but it would include leftovers to take home. James has been eating with us most nights anyhow, and sometimes my girls peck like birds.”

Pamela’s shoulders pushed back, and she elongated her spine in her seat, meeting Virgie’s eye directly. “Which nights?”

“Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.” Virgie figured that would help the woman string together enough food for the week. It would also give her somewhere to go. Sometimes a person simply needed a little space from her everyday life. Then Virgie could put the issue of James out of her mind. In aiding his mother, she would aid him. “You could begin this Friday?”

If Charlie complained that they suddenly had a part-time cook, let him. If you’re so against the idea, she’d say, you come to the island and cook in her place. This made her smile inwardly. Imagine telling a husband such a thing and meaning it.

Virgie was in her silk pajamas reading in bed when the telephone rang. She picked the handpiece off her nightstand, knowing it was Charlie. They’d spoken only once since their disagreement, clipped pleasantries about the children, but she couldn’t avoid him forever.

“What do you do once the girls go to bed?” he said. His voice was quiet and needy, like he’d already sipped a gin and tonic, which always brought out his insecurities.

“I read,” she said, putting her book down. “The Thorn Birds. You?”

“I’m signing off on a few fundraising events. I was hoping you could organize a Ladies Tea on the island in August.” She fell silent, unwilling to agree that easily. His voice turned cloying. “I know you’re mad at me, Virgie, and I hate myself for what I asked you to do.” He paused. She could hear his thoughts churning. “But I’m struggling here. I miss talking to you before I turn off the light every night, and knowing you’re this mad at me, I can’t even focus on the Senate floor.”

She missed him, too, and still, she felt her mouth fall open; is that what he thought would win her over? The feeling of being missed? “In other words, if I’m not going to come home to you, you like knowing that I’m busy at work planning a fundraising event.”

“Maybe it’s the wrong answer, but yes?”

“Okay, dear,” she’d managed through gritted teeth, cradling the phone in her neck. “I’ll organize a Ladies Tea.” These events were most frustrating since Charlie dictated the discussions at them, even if Virgie made the guest list and invites, hired the caterers, and spent half a day prettying herself up for the society ladies. “Also, you should know that I’m taking flying lessons this week with Wiley at the Katama Airfield. We all are.”

At that, she’d dropped the phone, accidentally hanging up, and when he called back, questioning her sanity, she’d said, “I’m sorry, honey, but I already gave up my column. How could you ask me to give up flying too?”

He emitted a long, deep sigh. She imagined them lying together in bed, facing one another and Charlie caressing her back, whispering in the dark so the girls couldn’t hear. “Virgie, do you remember the day we met? At the library steps? I was dying to talk to you. Have you ever wondered why?”

She rose to face the open window, staring at the moonlight illuminating the harbor. “Why, Charlie? Because I was the only one crazy enough to smile back?”

He laughed with sincerity. “No, it was because you had a curiosity about everything around you, and you had this open expression. I’d seen you before, striding across campus, and I envied the way you moved through the world like you belonged. Like the world was made for you to live in.” She liked when he described her like this. Virgie noodled her finger in the dial, waiting for him to make his point. “But now, it’s like you don’t want to belong. It’s beginning to feel as though you want to be contrarian.”

She cut him off; he could be so shortsighted. “Coming to the Vineyard without you doesn’t make me a contrarian. It’s summer! Now good night, dear. I’ll call you after we fly.”

“If the weather is bad, please don’t go.” Charlie paused. “Can I call you tomorrow night?”

“I don’t know. That column, it meant something to me.” She hovered her finger over the plastic button, ready to hang up.

“I know, I’m sorry, but… I love you, Virgie.”

Now it was her turn to sigh. “I love you too, Charlie. Good night.”

Virgie yanked open the curtains that Saturday, the sun pouring through the windows, and clapped her hands together. “Wake up, girls.”

She’d been up since six, dressed and ready in Bermuda shorts and a flowy blouse, her hair tied up into a French twist, so it wouldn’tblow into her eyes. “I have a surprise for all of you, and it involves the friendly skies.”

It had been nearly impossible to keep the flying lessons a secret, but she mostly had, even as Pamela reported to the Whiting residence last night to prepare her first supper. She’d rather sloppily slathered chicken legs in barbecue sauce and baked them in the oven, then followed a recipe for potato salad, which turned out to be too salty, but still, it had been nice having another adult around. While the woman washed the plates and glasses from dinner, Virgie caught up on laundry. The evening was warm and still without darkness, and James and Betsy played tag alongside the occasional firefly. Every several minutes, the boy came into the kitchen, the room alight with the glow of an orangey-pink sunset. “Are you all right?” he’d ask his mother, to which Pamela would pat his back and wave him along.

“Come on, girls!” Virgie pulled the blankets off Louisa, exposing bare feet and calves jutting out from a pink cotton nightgown.

Louisa smacked a pillow over her head. “I’m sleeping, and I have to work today!”

What a waste of time sleep could be! There was so much life to be lived, and today was a prime example. “Louisa, you don’t work until two in the afternoon, and it’s only seven in the morning. Do you know what we’re doing today? We’re going up in an airplane. We are flying a real-life plane!”

Aggie had climbed out of bed moments before and stood brushing her teeth while leaning against the doorjamb, her expression unenthused. “A plane. What plane?”

“It’s an old war biplane.” Virgie couldn’t believe everyone wasn’t squealing. “Agatha, you must be thrilled. This is up your alley.”

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