Nantucket Sisters (10 page)

Shane draws a deep breath. Maggie knows there are so many answers he could give. She’s never called him “honey” before. She’s never rubbed her hip against his. He looks down at her, his dark eyes serious, almost threatening. She can read the message. Quite clearly, he’s telegraphing her:
Don’t toy with me
.

With a cunningly innocent smile, Maggie reaches over to extend her hand to Clementine, at the same time managing to press her bosom into Shane’s arm. “Hi. I’m Maggie McIntyre. I’m taking photos for
Nantucket Glossy
and I’d love to take your photo if you don’t mind. You’re so gorgeous in that red dress.”

Clementine’s eyes narrow. She’s not certain what just happened, but she doesn’t like it. Shane’s attention now is completely focused on Maggie.

“I don’t think so,” Clementine replies, flustered. “I’m so tired. I only this minute arrived from France.”

“Oh, were you on a hiking trip?” Maggie inquires, subtly implying knapsacks full of unwashed socks.

“I live in Paris,” Clementine snaps, her eyes flashing. “Paris, and Nantucket in the summer.”

“Lucky you!” Maggie coos. “Is your dress from Paris?”

Clementine settles down, flattered by Maggie’s question. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

“You look so fabulous. Oh, please, I’d love to have a photo of you for
Nantucket Glossy
.”

Flattered and irritated, Clementine shrugs her bony shoulders. “Fine.”

Maggie takes a photo of Clementine, writes down her full name—even though she’s seen Clementine often enough over the past few years to know it—and thanks her.

“Do you have enough stuff?” Shane asks Maggie. He’s intense, a runner at the starting line.

All right
, Maggie thinks. She’s feeling rather amorous, herself. “I do,” she tells him. “Let’s go.”

Shane has moved his bedroom from his parents’ house into an apartment above their garage, so he can play his music full blast—and have visitors. It’s basically a large rectangle with unpainted drywall and all the electric works showing, but he’s got a king-sized bed with clean sheets and a bathroom that is messy but clean.

“Nice,” Maggie says, looking around the room.

Shane’s focusing on her. “You’re nice.”

She can tell he’s nervous. She makes the first move, reaching up to touch his face, and quickly he has her in his arms. He kisses her fiercely, then lifts her and carries her to his bed. His passionate fumblings at her clothes and his heavy weight on top of her are too rough.

“Shane. This is my first time.”

Immediately he slows down. “Sorry. Sorry.” He begins again, kissing her lips, her neck, her chest, stroking her arms.

She returns his kisses. Sitting up, she lifts the black dress over her head and tosses it to the floor. She’s wearing an underwire strapless bra. When she unhooks it, Shane groans and nearly rips his own clothes off his large impatient body. He pushes her back down on the bed, shoving her legs apart with his knees.

“Gentle,” she tells him. “Gentle, Shane.”

And he is gentle. Maggie can see in his eyes that this is special for him, and she likes him for that, but she’s also sad, deep in her heart, because she knows she can’t reciprocate his affection. She closes her eyes and allows herself to be in the moment. The moment is very good.

On a late August evening, Emily and Ben walk along the beach at ’Sconset, idly watching the waves lazily slap against the shore.

“I remember when there were houses here,” Ben remarks, sweeping his arm up the beach. “The ‘No Name Storm’—that’s what we called it, because the National Weather Service didn’t predict it—wiped out an entire row of homes.”

Emily scans the empty beach. “Will the shoreline build up again?”

“Probably. It’s supposed to accumulate on this side of the island.”

Emily points. “Look. A seal.”

“Yeah. More and more are coming down here. They used to hang out only at Great Point, but now that we can’t kill them, they’re populating like crazy. They have to spread out to find fish.”

“Seals are adorable,” Emily says.

“Sharks certainly think so,” Ben tells her.

“Let’s spread our blanket here,” Emily says. “I think we’re hidden from sight by the cliff.” Once they have the blanket on the sand,
Emily sits, arms on knees, staring out at the ocean. “I’ve summered on Nantucket all my life, Ben. I’ve worked for the science museum here for quite a few years. I want to be part of this island. But I’m not sure what direction to take. These changes—the beach erosion, the seals—they’re changing the water itself. Not to mention all the summer houses being built on the island and the landscapers putting pesticides and chemicals into the ground. That runs right into the harbor.” She looks up at Ben as he settles next to her. “I wish I knew the best courses to take at Smith.”

“They’ll provide you with good guidance. You’ve got to find out how adept you are with stuff like chemistry and math.”

“Yeah. I worry about that.” She bites her lip, frowning.

“Hey.” Ben puts his arm around her. “Stop worrying about the future. Think about something more important.” With a grin, he lowers his mouth to within inches of her own. “Think about me.”

Aroused, she wraps her arms around him. “I can do that.”

The daylight is dimming, turning the blue sky violet, gray, indigo. The darkness covers them as they move together on the blanket, and all worries have vanished into the warm salty air.

“Whoot!” Emily runs down the path to Shipwreck House, a book-bag bouncing in each hand. She’s wearing shorts and a tee shirt and flip-flops.

“Hey, you.” Maggie steps out of the boathouse to greet her. Like Emily, she’s in shorts and a cotton tee, flip-flops on her feet. She gestures with her hand. “Enter, madam, the feast awaits.”

On the rickety old table where Maggie used to write, a feast is laid out on one of Frances’s unironed tablecloths. Crusty Portuguese bread, soft and hard cheeses on a cutting board, British and Finnish crackers, containers of oily, garlicky pastas with smoked veggies, stuffed grape leaves, and pungent wrinkled olives.

“I’ve brought the drinks,” Emily says. “Beer in this bag, sparkling water in this one.” By Massachusetts law, they’re not supposed to have alcohol until they’re twenty-one, but in the summer the law is broken regularly on the island. Still, neither girl enjoys the sensation of being smashed.

“Let’s go down to the dock,” Maggie suggests.

They sit on the end, their feet dangling in the water. For a few moments they simply stare at the pale sky, the lights of town so far away, the houses across the harbor becoming shadowy.

“So many of the summer houses are closed,” Maggie muses. “Already, before Labor Day.”

“Everyone has to go back to school.”

“I know. I leave in two days.”

Emily asks, “Are you excited? Nervous?”

“Both. I’ve never spent much time off island. But Wheaton’s not far from here. When I interviewed there, I got to the college and back to the island in the same day. Lots of island kids go there. Plus, it’s gorgeous, and I’m
so
ready to start reading and studying.”

Emily leans back and laughs. “You little bookworm.”

“Always.”

“I loved your articles in
Nantucket Glossy
.”

“Yeah, that was fun. Marilyn O’Brien’s great to work with. But it’s fiction I want to focus on. I know I’ll have to take science and stuff, but I’ve been drooling over the literature offerings in the catalog.”

Emily is quiet for a long moment. Then she says, calmly, “I’ve been drooling over your brother.”

Maggie cocks her head, giving Emily a questioning look. “Um, okay.”

“I’ve been wanting to tell you.
We’ve
been wanting to tell you. But you and I haven’t had a chance to really sit down and talk like this. I mean, you’ve been working all summer …”

“What are you saying?”

Emily takes a deep breath. “I’m with Ben. We’ve been together since early August. Eventually we’re going to get married.” She cringes, waiting for Maggie’s reaction.

“Well, thank God!” Maggie throws herself at Emily, hugging her tightly. “You’ll be my sister-in-law, not just my Nantucket sister! Oh, my God, Emily, this is fantastic!”

“So you’re happy about it?”

“Happy? I’m ecstatic! Except, how could you keep it a secret from me? And Ben, that sneak, no wonder he’s been so damn cheerful all summer. Oh, Emily, this is awesome! Oh, my mom will be over the moon!”

Emily throws back her head and laughs at Maggie’s exuberance. What was she afraid of, that Maggie would be jealous? That Maggie would think Emily wasn’t right for her brilliant brother?

And suddenly Maggie cries, “Oh, no!” Her face goes tragic. “This means you love Ben more than you love me!”

Emily laughs again and hugs Maggie. “I’ll never love anyone more than I love you, Maggie.”

“This calls for a drink.” Maggie runs up to the boathouse, grabs a couple of beers, and brings them back. Clinking her bottle against Emily’s, she toasts, “Here’s to you and Ben.”

They drink.

“While we’re talking about romance,” Maggie says in a sultry voice, “I’ve got some news myself.”

“Do tell.”

“You know Shane, who’s been taking me to all the parties?” Maggie grins wickedly.

“You didn’t. You lost your virginity and you didn’t tell me?” Emily pretends to be insulted.

“He’s the sweetest guy, Emily. He’s patient and reliable and so kind. Oh, and sexy as hell, too.”

“Thank heavens for that. Do you love him?”

Maggie wriggles uncomfortably. “Oh, I don’t know. I like him. And I like having sex with him. He’s a good guy.”

“Do you want to be by his side for the rest of your life, do you want to take care of him when he’s sick and have babies with him and melt right into his body?”

Maggie stares at Emily. “That’s how you feel with Ben?”

Emily nods. “And more. I can’t even put it all into words.”

“Then no. No, I don’t love Shane.” For a second, Maggie looks sad. Recovering, she shouts, “But I don’t care! Literature is my true love! I don’t need a man!” Jumping up, she extends a hand to Emily. “Come on. I’m starving. Let’s go into Shipwreck House and eat everything we see.”

Emily takes Maggie’s hand and rises. “You’re crazy, you know.”

“Yeah,” Maggie replies, skipping ahead, looking over her shoulder at Emily. “And aren’t you glad?”

Two nights before Maggie leaves the island for college, Shane takes her out to dinner, a proper date, he tells her, dinner at a real restaurant.

Sitting across from each other at the Boarding House, one of the more expensive restaurants on the island, the couple pick at their food, constrained by a web of things they haven’t said.

Finally, Shane reaches over to take Maggie’s hand. “We should talk.”

Maggie takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Everything’s going to change, isn’t it?” He speaks lightly, but his dark brown eyes are serious. “You going to college, me staying here, a working guy.”

She wants to be honest with him, but she doesn’t want to hurt him, and she’s not sure of her feelings. “Things will change,” she agrees. “Not because I’ll be in college, but because we’ll be separated
for most of four years. But I’ll be back for summers and holidays, to work for money for school, and I absolutely will return to live on the island when I graduate. I never want to live anywhere else.”

Shane withdraws his hand. Leaning back in his chair, he’s obviously gathering his thoughts. He’s not easy with words. He doesn’t like to read, so his vocabulary doesn’t provide for him all the nuances he’d desire. Finally, he says ruefully, “That seems kind of cold.”

Maggie takes the time to study the handsome big man across from her. His shoulders are wide, his entire body muscular, hefty, solid. His deep brown eyes are fringed with the same dark brown of his hair. Already his hands are scarred and callused from working, and when he walks his hands curve inward, as if he’s always carrying a hammer. He’s unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white shirt, and she knows he hates wearing it. It chokes him. He prefers the loose hang of a cotton tee shirt over canvas work trousers. He prefers work boots.

Not that clothes matter. Maggie doesn’t care what he wears. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t like to read. Most of the couples she knows have different interests. He coaches Little League baseball—as her friends say, he’ll be a wonderful father. He’s not a drunk, he doesn’t have a bad temper, he makes good money. If she married him, she’d be able to squeeze some time out of her day to write. Her girlfriends have pressed all these arguments and more on Maggie. But he deserves to know the truth.

“You’re right.” Now she reaches for his hand. She has never said she loves him because she isn’t sure that she does. “It’s just that I want so much to be a writer, Shane. I want that more than marriage and kids—” She hears him inhale at this. She’s never been quite so blunt before. “My parents are really struggling to send me away to college, and I need to go. I’ve got so much to learn, I’m so excited to hear lectures from professors who’ve read and studied—” His face tells her that she’s gotten off track. For him, for
him
she’s gotten off
track. Best to hit him with it all at once. “Shane, I don’t know if I’ll ever have the feelings for you that you want me to have. I think it’s only fair for you and me to break off. Four years is too long for us to try to stay a couple. I want to concentrate on my studies, and you, my gosh, Shane, you’ll have so many women hitting on you the second the ferry leaves the dock—”

Shane jerks his hand away. “You don’t have to humor me. I’m a big boy. I can deal with rejection.”

As often happens at moments like this, the waiter’s timing is impeccably off. “Would you like to see the dessert menu?” he offers eagerly.

“No, thanks.” Shane’s voice is almost a growl. “We’ll take the check.”

They don’t speak again until they leave, and when they go out the door, Maggie notices how several women’s eyes caress Shane. He
is
a hunk. He is a good man. She is sorry for both of them that that isn’t enough.

Early Saturday morning, Ben picks up Emily and drives her to the ferry. Her parents have sent all her necessities straight to Smith. Emily has only one bag and a backpack. Most of her summer clothes will remain here on the island.