The boy claimed that he had not even known Samantha and Arlene had been in his cabin. He seemed pretty upset about it. Until Jim told him to shut his mouth and keep it shut, Duncan had tried to turn the tables, inveighing against the two girls. "They're the ones you should get. Trespassing. B and E. That's private property!”
Earl didn't say anything about the knife the girls had taken away. The night before, he'd taken it to the police station in Blue Hil for the state police to pick up. He hadn't heard anything since.
After a further wearying hour, Earl sent Duncan home with Jim and Valerie to what he was sure would be house arrest. Duncan cast an odd look back at the sergeant and Earl had the distinct impression that Duncan would have favored the one and only cel down the hal from the office—
mostly used to store stationery supplies for the town hal .
Valerie had sat tight-lipped and grim throughout the ordeal. She seemed to have erected a wal between herself and the rest of the world. She was dressed in a simple blue-checked skirt and white blouse, no hat, no makeup. At one point, Duncan turned to her and said, "Why would I want to do anything to Samantha Mil er? I don't even know her." Valerie just shook her head in utter defeat.
Earl walked out with them to their car. "Thank you for coming in."
“A rotten business," Jim said, "a sorry mess.
Samantha's one of the best sailing instructors we've ever had at Maine Sail." He glared at Duncan.
An old pickup came roaring down the street—it needed a new muffler—and screeched to a halt next to them. John Eggleston, his hair a mess of disheveled fiery locks, leapt out and ran toward them.
“I just heard. Please, let's sit down and talk about what happened before anyone goes off the deep end”
During the long wait the night before, Pix had fil ed Earl in on everything Samantha had told her and had also mentioned her conversation with John. And John had, in fact, been in touch with Earl, asking him to keep an eye on the old quarry. Earl had touched on some of this with Duncan and the Athertons.
“You've done enough harm here! Al your little talks!
We know about the kinds of `literature: you've been recommending and you may be hearing from my lawyer."
Jim had apparently already dived in.
John stood for a moment, openmouthed. "Too late," he muttered, "too late”
He stood with Earl, watching the family drive away. "I was hoping they'd let the boy stay with me for a while until things cool down."
“I doubt there's much hope of that. One way or another, Duncan Cowley is going off this island.”
It was almost dark when Pix woke up. She lay stil for a moment. Sam had thrown a light blanket over her. The heat was final y breaking. She looked out the window at the familiar line of fir trees pointing to the boathouse and shore.
The outcroppings of pink granite were faintly visible, or maybe it was because she knew they were there that she could see them. She could hear Sam and Samantha talking in her room down the hal . Pix felt warm and safe. She stood up and draped the blanket around her shoulders, trailing it like a queen's mantle as she went in to see her daughter and husband.
“Mom, Daddy's cheating!" Samantha laughed. They were playing Uno.
“That's nice," said Pix. "What do you want for supper?”
Samantha was stil in a good mood three days later, but was beginning to get restless. She had been showered with attention in both tangible and intangible forms. The campers had al made cards for her. Susannah and Geoff had created three gushing ones each. The Fairchilds had sent a basket of yel ow roses, baby's breath, and daisies—
not the kind the Mil ers gathered in big bunches from the meadow to weave into crowns or set about the house in a variety of containers, but perfect daisies with huge yolk yel ow centers and every creamy white petal perfect. No tiny holes as evidence that some creature had rested there.
Gert Prescott left two lemon meringue pies. Ursula brought a beautiful conch shel Samantha had long coveted.
Valerie dropped by to leave a tiny porcelain box with the words FORGET ME NOT surrounded by the flowers on the lid. She tried to say how sorry they were to Pix, but Pix, feeling very uncomfortable, cut her off, thanking her and adding, "Samantha is fine, thank God, and maybe Duncan wil get the help he needs now.”
That you al need, she finished silently.
Sam had stayed until Monday night and he and Pix had spent a great deal of time talking together and with Earl about what to do. In the end, with Samantha's approval, they decided not to press charges. It wasn't because of lack of evidence but, rather, because they felt that Duncan might only become more withdrawn and disturbed if caught up in the juvie system. Both Pix and Sam had been very moved by Samantha's description of what the boy kept in his trunk. Earl spoke to the Athertons and they were going to find an appropriate residential school with a summer program—not the military one—for their son as soon as possible. Depending on how he did and what those working with him said, they'd decide whether he would return home in the fal or stay.
Sam had left reluctantly, trying up to the last minute to get his wife and his daughter to go back with him, but neither woman wanted to budge.
“I'm not going to let her out of my sight," Pix told her husband, "especial y at night. Earl doesn't think she's in any danger. Duncan wil be leaving soon, and we can't run away.”
Sam agreed intel ectual y, yet his gut told him otherwise. "I'l be back Friday night." Pix wasn't going to argue with that.
Adelaide Bainbridge's funeral was Tuesday morning.
Pix and Samantha had driven out to The Pines to get Ursula. Rebecca had been picked up earlier by a contingent of Bainbridge cousins feeling pangs of familial obligation: "Poor old Becky.”
Samantha had had plenty of company since she'd returned home from the hospital Saturday morning, none more constant than her grandmother's. Pix knew her mother would be terribly shaken by what had happened and she was right. Today, Ursula opened the door to Samantha, who was running up the steps, the only evidence of the attack and her slight concussion hidden by her hair. To al intents and purposes, she was ful y recovered, but the pain in the older woman's eyes was fresh. Pix was struck anew by how much her mother seemed to have aged since Saturday. There were dark shadows and lines that Pix had never seen on Ursula's face before. When she spoke, it was not in her usual timbre. The volume had been turned down and the treble increased.
“Mother, are you sure you want to go?" Pix asked.
"There'l be so many people at the service, no one wil miss us."
“Of course I want to go—and Rebecca would notice, for one. Besides, I couldn't miss Addie's funeral. I've known her for so many years”
Pix thought her mother would say this and she resolved to get her away as soon as possible after the graveside service.
As they drove across the causeway back toward Sanpere Vil age, Pix again noted the happy vacationers on the beach and out in their boats, enjoying the typical Maine day. The heat spel had broken and normal July weather was back. There was a good stiff breeze on the water, turning up smal whitecaps. The sun shone just enough for comfort and a few hardy souls were swimming.