Page 89 of Summer Light on Nantucket
just when you think
The next morning as she was drinking coffee on the porch, Blythe heard someone come down the stairs. If it was Daphne, she knew she had a hard time ahead. Blythe vowed to be calm, logical, and wise when she spoke with Daphne about what Miranda had said.
It was Daphne.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, as she stepped out onto the porch.
“Hi, Daphne. Want some coffee?” Now that she was face-to-face with Daphne, Blythe’s fury rumbled volcanically in her chest. She couldn’t stand it thatthischild of all her children had lied to her. Suddenly angry, she said, “Or would you rather have some wacky tobacky?”
Daphne burst out laughing. “Wacky tobacky? How oldareyou?”
Blythe patted the cushion on the wicker sofa. “I agree. That’s a stupid way to talk about a serious subject. Sit down. Here. Daphne, have you been smoking pot?”
Daphne sat, ducked her head, and shrugged. “Yeah, a little.”
“Have you really been going to nature walks every day?”
Daphne stared at her hands with their unpainted, chewed-up fingernails. “Most of the time.”
“What about the times you don’t go on nature walks?”
“I don’t know. Nothing. I just hang with Lincoln.”
“And you smoke pot.”
“Not always.”
“Does Lincoln’s mother know?”
Daphne glared at Blythe. “What? No! Please don’t call her, Mom. Lincoln has enough to deal with.”
Softly, softly,Blythe thought. “How about you? Do you have enough to deal with?”
“Oh, you mean the death of the entire planet isn’t sufficient?”
Blythe took a moment. “I think you’re troubled by more personal matters and I wish you could talk with me about them.”
“Mom, please. I’m fine.”
“But are you?”
Emotions flickered across Daphne’s face like light through prisms.
Blythe put her hand on her daughter’s arm. Lightly. Not controlling but caring. “What’s going on?”
Daphne muttered, “Nothing, Mom. Everyone my age smokes now and then.”
“Have you been smoking back home? When you were at school? Like, in the bathrooms?”
Daphne shook her head. “No.”
“Did you smoke last summer?”
“No.”
Blythe was used to stubborn adolescent one-syllable responses. She folded her hands in her lap and waited patiently.
Daphne tilted her head down so far she almost fell over. “I love him,” she whispered.
