The Singing Trees by Boo Walker
Chapter 39
THE FARMERS’ MARKET
Three months after they moved to Graystone, Celia had grown into a little handful, a mini-Annalisa always looking for trouble. She would throw temper tantrums that rivaled any that Nonna or Annalisa had ever thrown, and Annalisa was sure that God was paying her back for her devilish behavior as a teenager.
Now that the US was out of the war, the country was working its way toward a better place—even with the whole Watergate thing going on. If only Elvis was in a better place as well. To Annalisa’s great dismay, her favorite singer wasn’t taking care of himself and was going downhill quickly, gaining weight and losing his musical direction. She wished she could speak to him and tell him about her own journey and how there could always be light found ahead.
Annalisa, Celia, and Nonna had moved into Graystone in late May, only two weeks after first setting eyes on the place. Glen had chased after Annalisa most of the summer, until she’d finally convinced him that they’d be better as friends. It wasn’t that she was still avoiding love; it was just that he wasn’t the one. Now that she’d had the real thing, she couldn’t settle for less. But maybe one day . . . meanwhile, Annalisa was painting more than ever and had opened a gallery downtown that was already becoming the talk of the art community.
She’d proved herself as a curator just as she had as an artist and had found her niche by carrying works by artists who nearly dripped with passion. Though she had no set rules, the artists she worked with didn’t paint lighthouses or lobsters. Be it the abstract expressionist or the pop artist or the portraitist whose work hung in her gallery, they all worked with tremendous heart, so much so that a serious buyer couldn’t walk out of Annalisa’s gallery without wet eyes.
In constant search of new artists, Annalisa traveled all over New England, chasing leads from the gossip in the art community. When she found artists she wanted to represent, they looked at her like Annalisa had once looked at Jackie Burton, and those eyes of admiration and respect were what kept Annalisa going.
These trips over the summer were her chance to get a break from being a mommy, and there was no place she liked visiting more than Portland, which always reminded her of her journey. After a particularly fruitful two days in August—the Plymouth overloaded with new acquisitions—Annalisa stopped by the farmers’ market on the way home to peruse the new artist booths and to visit Eli and buy a cinnamon bun.
Annalisa was in a particularly saucy mood, and she’d been thinking about dating even more lately. Being back in Portland reminded her of that brave woman who had left the Mills to start a new life. The one thing she’d been missing was romantic love, and it had required quite the journey for her to admit that fact.
Now, she felt full of all types of love, from her relationships with her artists and buyers and friends to her daughter and Nonna and her family back in the Mills. She’d come to love the Mancusos so much that she often wished she could move them all up to Bar Harbor. They liked the Mills, though, and she couldn’t blame them. As much as she’d wanted to run from it, the truth was that she’d only been wanting to run from herself. The Mills had nothing to do with it. In fact, she was living the small-town life she’d run from, and she wouldn’t trade it for the world.
It was in these musings that life decided to disrupt her plans once again. Carrying a bag full of a variety of cherry tomatoes and a beeswax candle, she was working her way toward Eli’s booth when she stopped to check the time. She’d promised Celia she wouldn’t come home late.
She drew out Walt’s Waltham pocket watch from her purse. Three minutes past ten. She could be home before two if she hurried. She snapped closed the front of the watch just as someone called her name.
She turned to find Mitch Gaskins—Thomas’s best friend—looking at her. He sat on the hood of a parked car, holding an ear of corn. Several kernels were caught in his beard. The past gripped her like a strong hand grabbing her ankle while she was sleeping, and she remembered meeting him for the first time at the football game, while he was home after basic training.
“Damn, it’s good to see you, Annalisa.” He laid his corn down on a plate, slid off the hood, and reached for the cane leaning against the car. Had he been hurt during the war? Balancing himself, he came to a standing position and looked at her with an astonished grin. “Never thought I’d see you again.”
Annalisa smiled back and dropped Walt’s watch into her purse. “I can’t believe it. Mitch Gaskins. Is that really you?”
“In the flesh,” he answered. “Most of me, at least.”
They hugged, and Annalisa felt the murky waters of the past tugging her harder. She was happy to see him, but this was a reunion for which she was not prepared.
“Where are you now?” he asked, resting against his cane. “I figured I’d run into you if you were still here.”
“No, I left last year,” she said, glancing around, suddenly terrified that Thomas might be with him. “I’m up in Bar Harbor. I’m actually on my way back—just had to stop for a few goodies.”
“Bar Harbor? I never would have guessed.”
“You and me both,” she agreed. “And you? You live here?”
“Yeah. Ever since I came home.” He looked to his leg. “I took a bullet to the knee, so my tour ended early. My dad and I opened up a couple of auto shops, one near the mall and the other in South Portland. Thomas is here, too, you know?”
“What? He lives in Portland?” Hearing his name was a bucket of ice over her head. Her attempts to pretend like his name wasn’t all over her brain during their chat fell short.
“No,” Mitch said, rubbing his beard. “He’s still living up in Davenport, one more year to go at Weston. But he’s here at the farmers’ market. Did you see him?”
Annalisa’s heart kicked hard, throwing her mind into a scramble. “No. I . . . I . . .” She felt an urgent need to rush out of there.
He raked his beard. “Yeah, that was the one thing that shocked me when I got home, that you two weren’t together. You were the only sure bet I would have made back then.”
“Things change, don’t they?” She looked around, thinking she really didn’t want to see Thomas right now. She was keeping a baby from him, for God’s sake. And as her body was clearly showing her, she still had strong feelings for him that she couldn’t bear letting him see.
“Some things change, I guess,” Mitch said.
Don’t do this,she thought. She’d been thinking of how she’d finally moved on, and now Thomas was reeling her right back in, destroying her progress.
Annalisa had to ask, “Is he still married and all that? I know he met that girl over there.” The moment the question left her lips, she wished she hadn’t asked. It was better to keep it all buried and get out of there.
“What girl?” Mitch asked, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. “After you, Thomas didn’t . . .” He shook his head. “Thomas will never love someone else. He’s got the Annalisa blues.”
A strange feeling that something terrible had happened began to scratch at her insides. “But I saw the picture. That girl. Mrs. Barnes said he was going to marry her.”
“The girl he’s with now?” Mitch looked around to make sure this person wasn’t within earshot. His deep voice escalating in pitch, he asked, “Robin?”
“I thought her name was Linh?”
“I don’t know a Linh,” Mitch said. “He’s kind of dating Robin, but they’re not serious. I’m telling you. You broke his heart, Annalisa.” Mitch looked down at her hand. “You’re not married?”
She had never been more confused in her life. Part of her still wanted to escape before she learned more and before she saw him, but her curiosity won.
Ignoring Mitch’s question, she said, “Mrs. Barnes said he’d fallen in love with someone in Vietnam. That’s why I left him.”
“What? This is news to me. I feel like I’d know.”
She could still see the photo that had changed everything. Maybe Thomas hadn’t brought her home. Still, why was Mitch covering for Thomas after all these years?
“You didn’t hear anything about another . . .”
A voice came from behind. “Oh my God.”
She knew Thomas’s voice better than any sound in the world, save perhaps her daughter’s giggle. Correction: their daughter’s giggle.
“Is that you?” he asked as she attempted to steady herself.
Annalisa sipped some air and turned. Thomas Barnes stood there, more than three years older than she’d last seen him but barely changed at all. His hair had grown out some, and he was well dressed in a light-blue shirt tucked into khakis with loafers.
Her throat went dry. Searching for something to say felt like painting with a dry brush. There was nothing there.
Thomas held hands with a redheaded girl, but Annalisa watched his hand slightly loosen around hers. “It is you.”
“Hi,” she said, doing everything she could to hide the emotions exploding inside. The anger and attraction. Had time not softened how much she hated what he’d done to her?
In the uncomfortable silence, as the two searched each other’s eyes, the redhead stepped forward and stuck out her hand. “I’m Robin. You must be Annalisa.”
Annalisa broke eye contact with Thomas. “How’d you know?”
The redhead shrugged. “Just a hunch.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Annalisa glanced back at Thomas, who smiled with his lips pressed together. She instantly felt the guilt of lying to Thomas about Celia. He had no idea he was a father. At least she didn’t think so. Surely, he would have asked about her. Celia looked so much like him that if he ever did see her, he’d know. Oh God, so much rushing through her. She’d considered tracking him down but always shied away. Now she wondered if she’d made the wrong decision.
“How are you?” he asked. “What are you up to?”
Annalisa barely got out, “I’m good, thanks. Just ran in to get something on my way home.”
She saw joy collect in his cheeks and eyes, and she knew she was indeed still on his mind. As if they were the only two in the universe, he focused on her and asked, “Where do you live now?”
The redhead sidestepped and started a conversation with Mitch.
“Bar Harbor,” Annalisa said, and she could hear the shakiness in her voice. Standing there alone with him was too much. The tension in the air grew thick like the fog that coated the mornings at Graystone, and she felt like her face betrayed her as she fought to keep from going dizzy.
She hated that Thomas saw her this way, her face a billboard advertising how much he still affected her after all these years, and she desperately needed to get out of there. Apparently, Mitch wasn’t privy to all the facts; she’d seen the photo.
“Anyway,” she said, “I’ve gotta run, but good to see you. I’m glad things are going okay.” She hoped he couldn’t hear the weakness in her voice.
Thomas glanced over at the redhead, as if he wanted to explain himself, as if he had so much more to say. “Yeah, you too.”
She seriously had to leave. With his smile and easy look, he was digging open old wounds with a knife and pouring salt into them, causing her some sort of anxiety attack.
“I’ve got to go,” she blurted out too obviously, the idea of escaping making her feel better.
Starting with his shoulders, his entire body frowned. “I understand. Well, it’s good to see you.” He seemed perplexed by her rush to get out of there.
She couldn’t help it, though. Offering a wave and a goodbye to Mitch and the redhead, Annalisa rushed away. She didn’t have to turn around to feel him staring at her. There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t.
Why hadn’t he come to find her upon his return? That made no sense, especially if he hadn’t brought a girl home. Not that she would have given a cheating boyfriend a second chance. No matter what had come of their relationship, he’d definitely kissed her. And where there was kissing, there was certainly something else. The war was not an excuse for stepping on their love with a breach of trust.
It wasn’t that Annalisa wanted him back—despite how much she still loved him. At least she didn’t think so, but seeing him was so painful.
Climbing into the Plymouth on Congress Street, she collapsed into the seat. She gasped for air, gasped for how she’d felt before he’d just rocked her world. Looking through the windshield at the car ahead of her and then the busy street, she clutched her chest and focused on her breathing. How would she react if he knocked on the window now? She might have a heart attack. She turned and scanned the area back toward the market. Lots of people were coming and going. Thankfully he wasn’t one of them, and her breathing started to normalize.
How could he have such a strong effect on her after all these years?
This was exactly what love was, she thought, a feeling you have for people who didn’t always deserve it. She remembered that same feeling with her father, hating him for everything he’d done to her mom and her, but at the same time, she’d never failed to hug him with forgiveness over and over. This was one of the faces of love: painful and unavoidable.
Afraid he might come find her and see her this way, Annalisa pulled away. She hadn’t gone by Walt’s place in a long time, but something drew her there. She found a nearby parking spot and stepped out of the car. A wealth of memories flooded in: Walt, the noon and midnight bells, the day Jackie Burton walked through the door and offered Annalisa a spot on her walls. She and Nonna had sold the building, and a clothing boutique now occupied the shop.
Looking up to her old balcony, she saw very clearly Thomas and her during his one visit to her apartment. She remembered pointing a shaky finger at Vietnam, so incredibly unsure of what lay ahead. If only she hadn’t gone to Hawaii. Her thoughts led her gaze left to the Leaning Tower of Treeza and the phone booth across the street, the scene she’d drawn him while he was in training.
Dipping back into the car, she found some change and then slipped into the booth, sliding the door closed behind her. She’d stared down at this booth for years as a watcher, imagining the lives of the men and women inside, but she’d never been inside herself. Until now.
When Nonna answered, Annalisa said, “I just called to check on you guys. Everything going okay?”
“All’s well. Glen is about to pick up Celia and take her down to the Village Green. She’s cleaned up from a bath and dressed in her finest.” Glen had become a good friend to all of them, the uncle Celia would never have.
The image was like a dose of calm. “Can I talk to her?”
A moment later, she heard, “Momma.”
Her voice was exactly what Annalisa needed to hear. “I just wanted to say I love you, Celia.”
Her daughter replied with something that made no sense but was rich with love, a love that uprooted even more guilt. Annalisa’s crime wasn’t as simple as having kept her daughter from her cheating boyfriend. She’d also been lying to Celia, and that was so much worse.
“I’ll see you in a few hours,” Annalisa whispered and then ended the call.
She left the booth and stared back up at the balcony one last time. Had she protected Celia or hurt her with this deception? And what if Thomas found out now? What would happen? As much as she had justified hiding Celia from him, she never could absolve herself of the guilt of her crimes. Celia was getting older, starting to understand things. She would be asking about her father soon. Annalisa wasn’t sure what she would say.
Climbing back in the car, she gathered her wits and made the long drive back to Bar Harbor.