Life Happens (14 page)

Mya had called it a cosmic force that had sent her to Rolf’s that day she’d gotten her hair cut. But in reality the force behind it all stood between them today. And she was tiring. It filled Mya with dread.

Evidently noticing, too, Dean saved the tour of his house for another day, and took them to lunch at the pizza place on the other side of the island. Over thick crusts smothered in piping-hot pepperoni and mushrooms and melted cheese, he and Elle talked. Mya noticed that Elle asked a lot of questions. It felt a little like a job interview. And it bothered Mya.

Why, she couldn’t say.

Elle was halfway through her third slice when she noticed the guy watching her from across the room. He hadn’t been at the luau last night, yet he looked familiar.

She thought back, trying to place him. She’d been in Maine less than a month. Where had she seen him?

He knew her. She would bet her last dollar he was enjoying the fact that he’d recognized her first. She considered asking Dean if he knew the guy. But she had a better idea.

She put down her pizza and pushed out her chair. “I’ll be right back.”

He watched her approach with an aloofness guys probably thought fooled girls. Elle knew Dean and Mya were watching her, as were several other people in the restaurant, so she kept her voice low as she said, “I know you.”

“Do you?” Most guys would have smiled by now.

He pushed a chair out with one foot. She’d had more polite invitations, but she’d had less polite ones, too.

Still deciding, she said, “I’m not sure there’s enough room at the table for you, me and your attitude.”

He still didn’t smile, and it finally dawned on her where she’d seen him. “You’re the pizza delivery guy, the one with the bad attitude who brought me a lukewarm pizza in Portland last month.”

He shrugged. “A thankless job if there ever was one. Hopefully my student loans and grants will come through for next year and I’ll never have to deliver another pizza as long as I live.”

She looked a little closer. “I figured you for a high school kid.”

“I know what you figured me for.”

Damn, he’d surprised her. What was this burgeoning regard? Lighting on the edge of the chair, she said, “Are you from the island?”

“My aunt and uncle live here. Are you?”

She pondered that. “Sort of. So what are you doing here? Visiting your aunt and uncle?”

“I’m shadowing my uncle’s lobster route, and later I’m going out on the ocean with a crew of fishermen. He says it’ll make a man out of me. Do you want to hang out this afternoon?”

Now
that
she’d expected.

He was average in height and build. His hair was a little shaggier than it had been the last time she’d seen him, his eyes dark, dark brown. He didn’t look so nerdy without the coat and hat bearing the pizza store’s logo. That in itself sent up a red flag. “I can’t,” she said. “I have to get back.”

“Are those your parents?”

She glanced at them. “Sort of.”

“Is everything in your life a
sort of?
” he asked.

Something about that observation caught her in the chest. “Here’s a definite. I have to get back to my daughter.”

She watched his eyes as he took that in, and noticed him glance at her left hand.

“It’s just me and my baby girl.”

“And those people who are sort of your parents?”

She’d assumed he would be put off by the fact that she had a baby. Instead, he seemed a little relieved she was single. And he was still interested. Huh. That was totally unexpected. She needed to put an end to this conversation right here, right now. “I’m only going to be here another week or two.”

“I’m only going to be here for the summer,” he said. “Sounds like the perfect friendship to me.”

He was mocking her. What an attitude.

Rising, she surprised herself when she said, “I’m staying in a summer cottage in McCaffrey’s Cove. Do you know where that is?”

“I can find out.”

“I’m sure you can.” Without saying goodbye or naming a time, she returned to Mya and Dean’s table.

“A friend of yours?” Mya asked.

“No. His attitude barely fits in this room.” Elle picked up her lukewarm pizza and took a huge bite.

“What’s his name?” Dean asked.

She shrugged.

“Want me to find out?”

She gave him one of her looks. “You’re kidding, right?” She washed her pizza down with her soda before adding, “He’s probably going to stop over this afternoon.”

“Why?” Dean asked.

“I
sort of
invited him.”

M
ya had to force herself to walk up the path leading to Dean’s door. Walk, don’t run had become her mantra, along with breathe, savor, try not to worry.

Sometimes it was almost effective.

She knocked on the door three times. Breathe. Savor. Try not to worry.

This house had been abandoned when they were kids, the windows boarded up, the porch rotting. She and Dean used to sneak up here, pretending they were running away or were stranded or shipwrecked. Sometimes other children joined them, but most often it was just the two of them.

She’d been thinking a lot about her childhood lately. She’d been thinking a lot about her life.

The sound of waves breaking against the rocky shore drew her around. In the distance the horizon arched, the ocean a deep, dark blue where it met a much paler sky. She hadn’t come here to look at the view. She wondered how long Dean had owned this property. That wasn’t the reason she’d driven over, either.

Exactly two hours and five minutes after Elle had fallen asleep in the middle of the movie they’d rented on their way back from lunch, Dean opened his door. “Is she still asleep?”

Mya shook her head. “That boy from the pizza place stopped by.”

“The nerd?”

“His name’s Oliver Cooper, and he’s not such a nerd.”

“You left her alone with a guy who isn’t a nerd?”

Mya refrained from mentioning that Elle was nineteen, had been living on her own for a long time and had a child. “Mom’s there.”

“No offense, but your mother was easy to dupe.”

He had a point. “Kaylie’s there, too. You saw how cranky she was. Now she’s refusing to take a nap. When she gets like this, there’s nothing to do but wait it out. No guy could get ideas when a baby is crying, right?”

He seemed to breathe easier. They stood a foot apart, facing the ocean. If she listened hard enough she could almost hear them as they’d been long ago, two children with nothing to do except while away endless summer days.

“Time stood still, didn’t it?” he asked. “What I wouldn’t give for it to do that now.”

He understood, and it filled her. She wanted endless summer days, wanted time to stand still again. Because of Elle. Ever since Mya had learned that Elle had cancer,
every night fell too soon and every morning broke too early.

In essence, Dr. Andrews had given them all a reprieve. But it would only last a week or two. What then?

Breathe. Savor. Try not to worry.

Mya wanted to talk about her fears, to be reassured that everything would be okay, that Elle would come through this and grow very, very old. But saying it aloud wouldn’t make it so, just as Elle’s refusal to talk about it hadn’t made any of it disappear.

“Would you care for that tour now?”

When she hesitated, he leaned down and kissed her. She didn’t close her eyes all the way, and neither did he. The kiss didn’t last long enough for that. Last night his kiss had been like the soldering heat that joined metals. Today, the brush of his lips on hers was feather soft and fleeting.

As he drew away, he said, “We’ll make the tour a short one.”

He understood her sense of urgency, too.

Something was happening, changing between them. They weren’t enemies anymore. The cancer was the enemy.

The cancer. And time.

She followed him from room to room on what was perhaps the fastest tour in history. When it was over, she had
a vague recollection of heart-pine floors, vaulted ceilings and comfortable though sparse furnishings.

As he reached for his jacket, she said, “Going someplace?”

He nodded a little sheepishly. “To your cottage. Nerds are guys, too. Not even a crying baby can change that. Maybe we can’t cure her cancer by sheer will alone, but I can break Oliver Cooper’s arm if he so much as touches her.”

He was being protective, perhaps overprotective. He looked at her, and although neither of them smiled, they both felt better.

This was why she’d come.

“Peripheral,” Elle said.

“Good one,” Oliver said.
“Lawyer.”

Elle put both thumbs in the air.
“Realtor.”

He nodded.
“Error.”

She made a sound of disgust in the roof of her mouth. They’d been at it for half an hour and it was getting more difficult to think of words whose very pronunciation was annoying.
“Annoying,”
she said.

“Consanguinity.”

She looked sideways at him. “I don’t even know what the hell it means but it sounds like you just dropped a tin on a cement floor.”

“It means a close relation or connection.”

She swore her heart skipped a beat, and it was really starting to tick her off. It was Wednesday. He’d been over every evening this week. Tonight, she was going to tell him to take a hike, figuratively, not the kind they’d just taken to the ocean’s edge and back.

“Sounds like Kaylie’s still crying,” he said as they neared the house.

Tell him,
she said to herself.
Get rid of him. Just do it. He’s not that great.

So what if he was the smartest guy she’d ever met? And that attitude. It was almost as bad as hers. That didn’t mean she liked him.

“Irk,”
he said.

“Good one.
Humid.
” For crying out loud, what was wrong with her?

She knew what was wrong with her. And it began with a big fat capital
C.
A disease like hers should have been called something offensive that made a person gag just saying it. Scientists never should have called it
Cancer,
the name of a beautiful constellation, and an astrological sign indicating sensitivity and intuitiveness. Cancer wasn’t intuitive. It was invasive and vile and vulgar.

As much as she and Oliver had talked this week, they hadn’t discussed her disease. But he had to know. A guy who dropped words like
consanguinity
would have noticed how thin her hair was, and surmised the reason.

“Surmise,”
she said.

He smiled. And her goddamn throat closed up.

“Vegetable.”

She came perilously close to giggling, and Elle hadn’t giggled in a long, long time.

“Listen,” he said.

“What’s wrong with listen?”

“No. Listen.”

She did as he said, and she heard the ocean and bird-song and leaves rustling overhead. She
didn’t
hear Kaylie crying.

This week Kaylie had decided she was going to walk. She wasn’t ready to walk, and every time she fell, she got mad and cried. She’d been fussy all week. Even the cat had grown wary of her and now spent most of his time under Elle’s bed where it was safe. Yesterday, Kaylie finally cut a back tooth. Today, she was working on another one. Sometimes rocking her helped. Sometimes nothing did. Tonight, Dean had taken over, and after shooting Oliver a stern and meaningful look, he’d insisted they get some fresh air.

Through the window she could see Dean walking around the room. Kaylie had finally relaxed on his shoulder. He was good with her. Elle had been noticing it all week. All the Lakers were good with her. Mya was, too. But Dean had a way with Kaylie.

Tears stung Elle’s eyes.

She reached a hand to the back of her neck just above
her hairline and felt the new lump. It reminded her that another day was almost over, and she still had a lot to do. She would be starting treatment again soon. She dreaded it almost as much as she dreaded d—

No. She wouldn’t think about that.

She’d promised she would take the treatments. And a promise was a promise.

It all sucked, but that was beside the point.

Rather than risk going inside and unsettling Kaylie, she sat on the top step. It felt good to rest a moment, and she sighed.

Oliver chose a spot a few feet away.
“Effervesce,”
he said.

She shrugged.

“Durable,”
he said.
“Aluminum. Whirlpool. Disheveled.”

She couldn’t believe she smiled. “You know a lot of annoying words.” It figured. “What are you going to college to be?”

“What do you think?”

That was the thing about Oliver. He made her think. “A rocket scientist?”

He made a guy kind of sound. “I’m studying architecture, but I’m going to be a writer.”

She looked at him. “Of books?”

He shrugged in that universal guy way. “Maybe. More likely of screenplays.”

He had dreams. She tried to remember the last time
she’d had dreams, then stopped herself. She had a better idea. Taking a deep breath for courage, she said, “You should write a screenplay about a baby conceived on an island off the coast of Maine.”

She could feel him looking at her, but she kept her eyes straight ahead. Pretending a fascination with the ocean, she said, “This baby was born in Brunswick, and was held only once by her young birth mother before being placed for adoption.”

A lot of guys would have asked a bunch of stupid questions. Oliver just looked at her. Perhaps that was why she continued.

“Her parents moved their perfect little family to Pennsylvania when she was still a baby. She had an idyllic life until her mother died and her father was so lost he remarried a year later. From then on everything pretty much went to hell for the girl. She became a wild child, experimenting with just about everything. She got pregnant, and when she told her boyfriend, he was beyond shocked. Like he hadn’t been there, you know? But he promised to stick by her. And she thought everything would be all right because she had love.”

The wind crooned, stirring up a breeze that rustled the collar of her lightweight shirt. Waves broke, crashing against the shore. And Elle said, “They talked about their options and decided on the best one. He held her hand in the waiting room of the abortion clinic. She was shiver
ing, and every sound was magnified, even the echoes. Especially the echoes. And she realized the sounds were coming from inside, and the echoes were the emptiness she would always feel if she went through with it.”

Elle finally looked at Oliver, but her gaze wandered to the ocean again. “She sat so still on the vinyl chair, and he continued to hold her cold, cold hand. When the nurse finally called her name, she and her boyfriend stood. She was shaking, so he held her, and he told her everything would be okay. It would all be over soon. He said it only once, but it echoed. And echoed. And echoed. And instead of following the nurse, she made a mad run for the door.

“He was right about one thing,” Elle said. “It was all over very soon. As soon as she told him she’d changed her mind and was going to have the baby, to be exact. Oh, he stuck around for a couple more weeks, but they argued all the time. He never wanted a kid, he said. And one day he went out. And she knew he wouldn’t be coming back.

“And she was so scared. So alone. The hardest part was when she told her dad, and she saw the disappointment in his wise, sad eyes. He tried to help, but he had kids of his own, and an unhappy wife. Every day the girl wondered if she had done the right thing. Then a miracle happened. She felt a flutter. Life! She couldn’t freaking stop smiling, and she knew she’d been right in the beginning, when she’d been sure everything was going to be okay because
she had love. She loved her baby. And she’d made the right decision. Come what may.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see Oliver’s Adam’s apple moving. He had a long, skinny neck. She’d forgotten he was a nerd.

“That sounds like a controversial movie,” he said. “Gripping and moving and thought-provoking. I like it.”

Now why the hell did that make her want to grin like an f’ing idiot?

“Then what happens?” he asked.

“She has her baby. The most beautiful and smartest little girl ever born. And she knows it won’t be easy, but life is good because she has love.”

She met Oliver’s gaze. Neither spoke, but she knew enough about guys to know when one was getting ideas. Any second now he was going to kiss her.

Elle leaned closer. Inviting trust and perhaps intimacy, she whispered, “Want to know how the story ends?”

He nodded, his gaze on her mouth.

“She gets cancer and dies.”

His eyes widened, and he froze.

She placed her hand on his arm apologetically. “All the great masterpieces have tragic endings, don’t they? Take all the creative license with the story you want. Good luck with your screenplays. It was nice meeting you, Oliver. I mean that.”

She left him sitting on the step while she slipped soundlessly through the door.

“You guys don’t look like cousins, you know?” Amanda Brown insisted.

Elle and Cole looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Sometimes people said the stupidest things.

It was Friday. Cole’s restrictions had been suspended for a few hours while he and Elle took Kaylie for a walk in the stroller Gretchen had dropped off yesterday. Five minutes into the walk, Elle had discovered that Cole was a chick magnet. Or maybe it was just this way on islands. It wasn’t as if these teenagers could drive to the next town or to a nightclub in the city. Any activity was better than no activity, and the sight of Cole and Elle pushing a baby stroller along the pier on this warm May evening had drawn a small crowd, and most of them were girls.

Elle was trying to imagine growing up here. More importantly, she was trying to imagine Kaylie growing up here.

“Some of us are watching a movie over at the Ryans’ later,” Amanda said. “Why don’t you two join us?”

Cole’s best friend nudged him, but Cole said, “Technically I’m still grounded.”

“How about you, Elle?” one of the other girls asked.

They came to the end of the pier and automatically
turned around, heading back. “Kaylie’s not much for movies.”

“Look!” one of the girls whispered. “Here comes that dreamy Oliver Cooper.”

Elle
was
looking.

Riding in the front of a battered lobster boat, he looked like the rest of the crew in flannel shirt and baseball cap. Except he carried a video camera, which he aimed at them.

The girls practically went into cardiac arrest over a nerd. High-school girls.