Read Twice Loved (copy2) for Free Online Page B

its headposts had held the jackets of both men and the rails in between had been clasped by Laura’s hands in the throes of both ecstasy and pain.
    Her throat constricted and she turned away.
    Which of them is still my husband? Above all, this question needed answering.
    Thirty minutes later, Laura had her answer. She stepped out of the office of Ezra Merrill, the island’s attorney, suddenly unable to face the house again, with all its reminders. And though she was twenty-four and a mother herself, Laura was smitten by the overwhelming urge to run to her own mother’s arms.
    Having left Josh at the Ryersons’ house, Laura made her way to the silver-brown saltbox on Brimstone Street where she’d grown up. Returning to it, the memories grew stronger, of Rye and herself and Dan trooping in and out at will, in those days before commitments had been made. Nostalgia created a deep need to talk about those days and these, with someone who knew their beginnings.
    But Laura had scarcely put foot inside her mother’s keeping room before realizing Dahlia Traherne wasn’t gong to be much help.
    Dahlia could scarcely handle the everyday decisions of her own life, much less offer advice to others on how to handle theirs. An inveterate whiner, she had learned to get her way through chronic complaining about the most trivial problems; when trivialities failed to surface, she invented imaginary problems.
    Her husband, Elias, had been island-born, a sailmaker who had sewn canvas all his life but had never sailed beneath it, for at the merest mention of his signing articles, Dahlia had come up with some new malady to make him promise never to leave her. He had died when Laura was twelve, and there were those who said Dahlia had driven him to an early grave with her habitual complaining and hypochondria, but that he’d probably gone to it gladly, to get away from her. Some said Dahlia should have stepped down a little harder on her daughter after Elias Traherne’s death, for the girl ran free as a will-o’-the-wisp after her father was gone, tramping the island without curfew or call, following the boys, and learning the most unladylike habits while Dahlia sat home and made not the slightest effort to control her. And there were still others who condescendingly explained away Dahlia’s weak nature by pointing out, “Well, after all, she’s an off-islander.”
    No, Dahlia had not been born on the island, though she’d lived here for thirty-two years. But if she lived on Nantucket another hundred, she would still bear the stigma from which no mainland-born person could ever be free, for once an off-islander, always an off-islander. Perhaps it was because she sensed this wry disdain that Dahlia lost confidence and became so weak and puling.
    Greeting her daughter now, she wheezed like the airy whine of a calliope. “Why, Laury, I didn’t expect to see you today.”
    “Mother, could I talk to you?”
    The expression on Laura’s face made her mother suddenly suspect there was a problem, and the older woman hesitated, as if reluctant to invite her daughter in. But Laura swept inside, dropping to a bench at the table, heaving an enormous sigh, and saying in a shaking voice, “Rye is alive.”
    Dahlia felt a pain stab her between the eyes. “Oh no.”
    “Oh yes, and he’s back on Nantucket.”
    “Oh dear. Oh my ... why it’s ... what ... Dahlia’s hands fluttered to her forehead, then massaged her temples, but before she could dredge up an ailment, Laura rushed on. The whole story tumbled out, and long before it ended, Dahlia’s expression of dismay had intensified to one of alarm.
    “You ... you aren’t going to ... to see him, are you, Laury?”
    Disheartened, Laura studied the woman across the table. “Oh, Mother, I already have. And even if I hadn’t, how could I avoid it on an island the size of Nantucket?”
    “B ... but what will Dan think?”
    Laura resisted the urge to cry out, What about me? What about what I