Summer at Oyster Bay: A gorgeous feel good summer romance (12 page)

As Charlie and Emily danced, she was less aware of the noise and the crowd, her eyes on him as he took control, his gentle movements so fluid and perfect that even though she didn’t have a clue how to dance like this, he didn’t let her fail. There was something so thrilling about dancing with him, feeling his hands moving from her back to her arms and returning to her own hands—it made her wish the night would go on forever.

Eventually, the music slowed, and Jason said into the microphone, “Grab your dates, your friends, the random person next to you! It’s time for a slow dance.” The band kicked in again. It was a soft, bluesy tune; it balanced Jason’s voice perfectly. It was too intimate, and she knew that Charlie would probably lead her off the dance floor, but she couldn’t help but hope that he’d stay out there with her.

“Want to keep dancing?” he said in her ear, giving her goose bumps down her arm.

Emily looked up at him. She wanted to say “Yes,” but she was afraid to let herself.

“A business dance,” he said, a smile lurking below his features.

Charlie wound his fingers around hers, his thumb moving across her knuckles tenderly, and pulled her close. He reached out and took her other hand, moving her toward him. Then he put his arms around her and it felt more like a hug than a dance. It was as if his arms were keeping her together and suddenly, she didn’t want to let him go.

Emily slid her arms up around his neck, intertwining her fingers and trying to look away. She didn’t trust herself if she looked into his eyes.

They swayed together to the music, the heat, the alcohol, and their closeness making her cheeks feel hot. She stole a glance at him and had to push the breath through her lungs as she saw him looking down at her. Their faces were so close, his eyes direct and warm at the same time. Happiness was swelling in her chest, making her smile at him, but it emerged with shyness. She’d never felt shy before, but she was struggling not to give away her feelings.

“What are we doing?” she said, her eyes darting up to his face only briefly.

“Dancing,” he finally said, avoiding the question.

She mustered the strength to look him in the eye again.

“Let’s go outside,” she said, feeling the need to move away from him, before she lost all resolve and kissed him. With a quick wave to Jason on stage, she let go of Charlie, each of them grabbing their beer from the table, and led him to the door.

Rachel followed after her. “You okay?” she asked quietly.

Emily nodded, telling Rachel in that sisterly way of theirs that she needed to let her go.

“I’ll tell the others you had to go if you don’t come back in.”

Emily nodded and walked outside with Charlie.

The evening temperature wasn’t any cooler, but the breeze coming off the bay sent a wave of relief her way. Tippy’s long deck, full of tables and twinkle lights, was nearly empty with everyone inside tonight to see the band. She walked to the edge, facing the water. The moon had just started to reveal itself above them.

“This has been a very weird week,” Charlie said, walking up beside her and leaning on the railing, his arm brushing hers.

He looked out over the water for a moment, but then turned to her, his body so close that exhaustion was setting in from having to fight the way she felt about him. Right there, in the moonlight, she wanted to wrap her arms around him and not let go.

“I have enjoyed spending time with you, but I worry that we’re eventually going to have to face what’s before us,” he said.

She turned toward him and she was so close that she had to look up. Without warning, without even hesitation, he took her hand, his touch light enough to cause a shiver through her body. “We don’t have to face it tonight,” she said.

The air carried nothing but the sound of the gentle lapping of the waves and the muffled band inside.

“I want to see you tomorrow,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “I still want to take you to the paint shop and choose a paint for your grandfather’s boat.”

“Okay,” she said, feeling so confused. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she had someone who challenged her, who made her want to be better, and it was the very person who was hurting her. It made her feel like she shouldn’t see him anymore, but she knew she didn’t want to do that.

E
mily stood back
and looked at the fish Charlie had bought for Libby as Flash hopped up on her bed and made himself comfortable. She had removed the wreath Gram had placed there and hung it on the wall in her bedroom. The blues were so beautiful that she decided she’d like to paint Papa’s boat a similar shade.

Charlie was supposed to come over soon to pick her up so they could look at paint colors. She called down to Gram to ask her to keep an ear out for the door, but when she heard a loud crash, she figured she’d better help with whatever Gram had just dropped. Flash jumped off the bed and followed behind her.

“What happened, Gram?” she called as she came down the stairs but Gram didn’t answer. “Gram?” She rounded the corner and headed into the kitchen, her heart pounding harder with every second of silence. “Gram?”

Gram was on the floor, unconscious, broken dishes scattered around her, her cane on the other side of the room. Flash walked up to her protectively and sniffed her face before sitting next to her still body.

“Gram!” Emily yanked her cell phone out of her pocket and dialed 911 as she listened for breathing. To her relief, she heard Gram’s breaths, but they were shallow. “I need an ambulance! My grandmother is unconscious and I think she’s had a heart attack or something!” She answered the emergency person’s questions while stroking Gram’s arm.

The paramedics arrived quickly, and were lifting Gram into the ambulance as Charlie pulled up. He jumped out of the car and ran up to Emily, the sunlight flickering across his shirt as it escaped through the shade of the trees. “What’s going on?”

“Will you be riding, ma’am?” the paramedic asked.

“Yes,” she said, frantic. The wind blew the trees to the side, sending a sharp streak of sun into her eyes. She struggled to focus.

“What happened?” Charlie said, grabbing her arm.

“I think Gram’s had a heart attack.” She climbed into the back of the ambulance.

Charlie jogged up to the back of it, the paramedic holding the door open but looking antsy to get it shut. “Get in the car with me. We’ll ride behind.”

“No!” She had to go with Gram! Her head was clouded, her shoulders tight, her heart slamming around in her chest. She reached out and shut the doors, plunging herself into the sterile, unfriendly environment of the ambulance. With a small jerk, they were off. Emily reached over and grabbed Gram’s hand—it was so still.

She couldn’t see Charlie anymore out of the small back window. All she could see was Oyster Bay. As the house slid out of view, she felt the full brunt of what she was losing. She loved Gram so much. If she thought she’d fallen apart when Papa died, she wasn’t sure what would happen to her if she lost Gram. There would be no more days at the beach with Gram to calm them, no more of Gram’s talks or nights around the kitchen table while she listened.

The next few hours were a manic frenzy of admittance paperwork, insurance documentation, calls to family members, and doctors’ prognoses. Gram had had a heart attack and, given her age, they wanted to run a few tests, but it looked like she was stable for the time being.

Charlie showed up, but Emily had been so busy with the hospital staff, she hadn’t talked to him. And, as real life set in, she couldn’t deny the thought that they might finally have to face up to the truth. He sat quietly in one of the chairs. Rachel was there with Jeff and Clara, only adding to the chaos in Emily’s head. She offered her sister a worried look every now and again, but the concern on Rachel’s face was almost too much to bear. She hadn’t seen that look in her sister’s eyes since their parents died.

Charlie had gotten Emily and the family bottles of water, sandwiches from the cafeteria, and he’d kept a steady supply of tissues. When she couldn’t stop the tears, when they’d almost overwhelmed her, he reached over and put his hand on hers in a comforting way. He kept it there the rest of the time.

After a while, they’d settled into a quiet slouch in the waiting room, exhaustion finally hitting them. Rachel was on the floor with Clara, drawing pictures on a hospital notepad while Jeff finished filling out a few more forms that the hospital required.

“You doing okay?” Charlie finally asked.

Emily nodded and closed her eyes. She was so tired. Then, she sat up with a start. “Flash is running loose,” she said.

“I put him inside before I came,” Charlie said.

“Someone should probably check on him.” In all the commotion, she’d completely forgotten about him. “Would you make sure he’s okay?” she asked Charlie.

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” she said with a wave of relief as she dug in her purse for her keys. She pinched the front door key between her fingers and held it out to him. “His food and water dishes are by the back door, and he should probably go out.”

Charlie took the keys. “Will you be okay?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Does anyone need anything while I’m out?” he asked, his eyes darting to Rachel and Jeff.

“We’re good,” Rachel said. “Thank you though.”

“I’ll be right back,” he said to Emily.

She watched him leave, and as he walked through the door, an elderly gentleman came in. He looked a little lost. He entered the room, scanned everyone in it, and then left. Emily, alone with her thoughts, wondered about the man. He could’ve been no one in particular—perhaps looking for a family member or trying to find the restroom. But, what if it was Winston? Was he in a panic, not knowing what had happened to Gram? Had she been meant to meet him somewhere, and she hadn’t shown up?

Emily had a sudden urge to run after him and ask, but she stayed put. She knew it was crazy to think he might be Winston. Did this Winston love Gram like Papa had? It was hard to imagine.

Clara was starting to get fidgety, so Jeff suggested he take her for a walk. Rachel, clearly glad for the break, got up off the floor, set the notepad onto a nearby chair, and sat down next to Emily.

“Do you know anyone named Winston?” Emily asked.

“No, why?”

“I found something at Gram’s—a locket. It was engraved to her but it was from someone named Winston.”

“That’s odd…”

“Yeah. She’s always said that she’s known Papa all her life, that he was the only person she ever loved. Do you think she’s found someone now that Papa has passed?”

Rachel’s eyebrows rose with this suggestion. “Wow. I don’t know, but that would be really fast, wouldn’t it?”

“I think so.”

“She hasn’t said anything to me.”

“It would make sense though, because she seemed to have dealt with Papa’s loss much better than we could’ve expected.”

“It’s difficult to tell, though. People grieve in different ways.”

“Yeah, but she isn’t grieving at all. She dresses up, she goes out, she makes cookies… Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who still misses him.”

“I miss him,” Rachel said. “I still cry over not having him. I worry that Clara won’t remember him.” Rachel twisted in her seat to face Emily. “Would it be so bad if she’s found happiness again?”

“Of course not.”

“What would he think if he knew that she’d moved on so quickly?”

“He always said her happiness was his number one priority,” Rachel said with a smile. “Remember?”

Emily grinned at the thought. “He told us that when we date someone, he should make us his
number one priority
, and if he didn’t, kick him to the curb.” She laughed, remembering his frankness. “I miss him.”

“Me too.”

“Miss Tate?” a doctor in a white coat said from the double doors across the room. Emily and Rachel stood up. He walked over to them. “Your grandmother is stable. She had a pretty tough climb to come back to us, but she did it. I’d like to keep her here for at least a week to monitor her. We’ve started some medication that she’ll need to continue once she’s home, but she’ll also need to rest. No big changes in her day.”

“When can we see her?” Emily asked, relieved to be getting good news.

“You can see her now if you’d like, but let her sleep. She’s weak and needs to rest.”

“Okay.”

They walked down the stark hallway, past rooms with beds and beeping monitors, some patients sleeping, some awake and shifting around under their covers. A pair of nurses walked by, their shoes squeaking on the glossy tile floors. Emily wanted to wheel Gram out of there, take her home to her own bed where she could be comfortable and happy. She wanted to put cookies in the oven and open the windows to let the bay breeze in. She’d do anything Gram asked of her, just to have her home again.

When they arrived at Gram’s room, they went inside slowly so as not to wake her. Gram looked older in that bed with her face slack and her hair disheveled.

As Emily looked down at her frail grandmother, she thought about how they didn’t have that much time left together. She didn’t want Gram to be off in Florida somewhere, away from her, away from Clearwater and everything they called home. What if this had happened after she’d moved? Who would have found her? She needed to be at her own house with her family.

Gram stirred, bringing her out of her thoughts. Emily watched Gram’s face, waiting for that smile of hers, but it didn’t come. Her eyes stayed closed. A lone tear escaped from the corner of her eye and slid down her temple to the pillow under her head.

Emily waited with Rachel for twenty minutes or so, but Gram never opened her eyes. Finally, Rachel motioned for them to leave.

When they entered the waiting area, Charlie had returned. Jeff was sitting next to him, and to her surprise, Clara was on Charlie’s lap. She really seemed to like him. She asked him to bounce her on his knees and she giggled every time she came down. The most surprising part was how gentle his eyes were when he looked at her, how interested he seemed in making her laugh, despite how careful he was.

“Hello,” he said, the curiosity remaining as he looked over Clara’s head at Emily. “How’s your grandmother?”

“She’s sleeping.”

Rachel took Clara off Charlie’s lap and led her to a small table that had a couple of children’s books on it. Charlie stood and met Emily in the center of the room.

“How was Flash?” she asked. “Is the house still standing?”

He smiled. “He wouldn’t come when I called him and I wondered if he hadn’t learned his name yet. I had to search the house to find him.”

“Not a guard dog then,” she said, missing Flash already. “Where did you find him?”

“In your room. I knew it was yours because your stuff is all over it,” he said, smiling again. “He was asleep on your bed. He raised his head when I came in, but he put it back down. I think he’s worried.”

“Oh,” she said, putting her hand to her chest. “How sweet. I guess I can go home and see him now.”

“I’ll drive you,” Charlie said.

“I’ll stay,” Rachel told her, holding a children’s book, Clara now on her lap. “Jeff can take Clara home, and you can text me if you want to come back.”

“Okay. Let me know if she wakes up.”

“Of course.”

Charlie walked beside Emily to the door and held it open for her. As they were walking, he grinned down at her.

“What?” she asked.

“I noticed something in your room.”

She waited for an explanation.

“I saw my fish.”

She didn’t want him to think less of Libby for giving her the fish or get any ideas that it had some sort of sentimental value to Emily. “Art is subjective,” she said to him again, hoping he’d remember their original conversation. “Libby wasn’t thrilled with it, but I liked it. She let me have it.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

They walked to the car and he let her in. When he got in on the other side, she said, “That’s actually the blue I’d like to paint Papa’s boat.”

“It’s a good color. Could I stop by and do some work on the boat while you’re at the inn?”

“It’s nice out there by the bay, isn’t it? A good place to work outside.” She smiled at him.

“Yes. But maybe not all work… I was thinking, I never got to cook for you. I could make you dinner tonight.”

“Charlie…” She wanted to have dinner with him but it might be best if she didn’t. “I don’t know…”

He watched her, and it was clear that he knew why she was hesitating. But he waited, his offer still hanging between them.

“What you said at the concert, you were right. At some point, we have to face the inevitable. If not, things are just going to get harder for us. You can do the boat, but we should probably just end things there.”