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must have been almost six feet tall and had hefty upper arms. Not saggy old-lady arms either, but solid-looking and freckled.
    I lowered my voice so the others couldn’t hear. “I wanted to come and see you. I thought if I came maybe you would talk to me and tell me …” My voice died away as I waited for my grandmother to come closer, to smile. To
say
something.
    But she didn’t do any of those things.
    The stupid smile was still stuck on my face, like something embarrassing that had dried there. “I’ve come a long way,” I whispered.
    Marianne McGovern wasn’t looking at me. And wasn’tlistening. She just stared at the ground and shook her head. No. No. No. As if trying to block out my voice.
    Now I understood. This woman wasn’t just shy or eccentric or “set in her ways,” as my mother had hinted. She didn’t want a granddaughter. Or at least, not me. I glanced around at the irregular semicircle of strangers. They were all looking at me.
    A burning fullness began behind my eyes but I blinked hard to stop it.
    No one was going to see me cry today.
    “You can’t come around here,” Marianne McGovern said. She raised her head and looked around. “She’s not staying. It was a mistake,” she announced clearly, as if making a public service announcement.
    She’s embarrassed
. The thought struck like a blow inside my chest. Marianne McGovern was worried about what her neighbors thought. What kind of godforsaken, ass-backward place
was
this?
    I shifted my backpack on my shoulders. “I came here to—”
    “You have to leave. Go back now,” she said harshly.
    Okay. It was becoming obvious what the truth was. This old woman hadn’t been able to stand the fact that her daughter got knocked up at sixteen. She’d thrown her out like so much trash.
    “You listen to me,” I said. Louder now. I didn’t really give a damn if everyone on the stupid island heard. And given the size of the place,
that
was entirely possible. “When my mother left here, she was—”
    “A willful, selfish little brat,” said Marianne McGovern in a loud voice that overtook mine. “Just like
you
are, I s’pose.” She seemed to have gotten control of her breathing but smoothed down the fabric of her denim skirt in a nervous motion with red, chapped hands.
    “That’s not true!” I cried. “She was wonderful. And a good mother. Something you obviously don’t know crap about.”
    There was a disapproving murmur from someone in the back of the crowd.
    And so much for unobtrusive
.
    But my grandmother’s voice was deathly quiet. “Was?” she whispered.
    “My mother died about six months ago,” I said quietly. I’d wondered if my mother had ever had any contact, contact that she’d kept secret from me. I guess she hadn’t. From the devastated look on her face, I knew my grandmother had known nothing about her daughter’s death.
    “Helen.” My grandmother’s mouth twisted and it looked like she whispered something under her breath. But when she spoke again, her voice was a quiet monotone. “You have to go now, child. You don’t belong here.”
    Even after the other stuff she’d said, the coldness of those words took me by surprise. And hurt.
    “Fine,” I said at last. “Mr. Deare will take me back. Don’t worry. You’ll never see me again.”
    Next to me Ben cleared his throat noisily. “Sorry, miss. We’re not going out again today.” He pointed out to the harbor. “Not in that.”
    Out over the water a heavy mist had gathered. As I stared, it rolled toward the island, spreading over the boats and the pier like a blanket of gauzy wool. The sun, piercingly bright a moment ago, was blocked out, leaving only a pale fuzzy disc behind the fog.
    “She’ll have to at least stay the night,” Ben said.
    My grandmother heaved a sigh. Her shoulders dropped as if she were defeated by fatigue, or a burden too heavy to carry anymore.
    “Girl’s a newcomer. We should let the mayor know,” said a man near the back