Summer Harbor (18 page)

“I lacked the guts. I believed that as long as I stayed away, I could preserve the happy memories.”

“We all have our delusions. No, ‘delusions’ is a harsh word—we all have our coping mechanisms.” Grainger went into the kitchenette and poured them coffee, then sat beside her on one of the two barstools in front of the short island counter.

It felt almost normal, almost as if, as long as they kept to the present, they could have a civil conversation, that the overwhelming truth of their past might be put on hold. Even if just for a little while.

“Toby told me that your parents are selling the house to pay for Will’s tuition.”

“Toby certainly has a big mouth.”

“He has no idea that I know you. He thinks he’s still living in a city, where no one knows anyone else.”

“So he’s a carpetbagger real estate parasite.”

Grainger laughed and nodded. “That about describes him perfectly. Although, in his defense, he is a pretty upstanding member of the community. He’s always willing to be the clown at the dunk-a-clown booth at the annual carnival.”

“True to type, I’d say.” Kiley added a teaspoon of sugar to the overly cooked coffee. She enjoyed the feeling that this conversation was one they might have had long ago, relishing the familiarity of its rhythms.

“Tell me about Will.”

The feeling of comfort vanished. “He’s off to Cornell in September. He graduated sixth in his class; he was captain of his high school baseball team, and the team went on to the state championships. He works at a burger place, and has saved enough money that I may let him get a car next year.”

“That’s not what I want to know. I want to know why you never told him about me. Or about Mack.”

“Because I didn’t know how.” This time the tears were silent, steady, but did not take her breath away. “Will was a boy, who did boy things and got into boy scrapes and left dirty dishes in his room under clean clothes. He, like you and Mack, loves baseball and other sports. He, like you and Mack, is kindhearted and clever. He, like you and Mack, is good to me. He loves me. He’s a good son.”

“Why didn’t you tell
me
about him?”

“Because if I kept him to myself, he would always belong to all three of us,” she whispered.

There were still some things she couldn’t speak aloud. As painful as Grainger’s rage was that night, Kiley had hoped that they might eventually be able to shuck their mistakes—her mistakes—and rebuild their friendship. But Mack’s death meant their friendship could never be fixed. How could Grainger ever forgive her? They’d spun out of each other’s orbit that night. Catapulted by the velocity of their mistake.

In the middle of October that year, Kiley realized she carried a child, one who might have been Mack’s or Grainger’s. Had Mack survived and Grainger come back to Hawke’s Cove, she would still have had to choose between them. She still couldn’t have them both. But she did have Will.

“I just couldn’t tell you. Don’t forget that we were kids, his age, when all of this happened. I handled it the best way I knew.”

“Didn’t I deserve to know?”

“Do you remember the last words you said to me? After that, how could I believe that you would ever want anything to do with me?”

Grainger looked into his coffee cup. “You’re right. We were kids, and we had no idea how to handle ourselves. But Kiley, we aren’t kids anymore, and haven’t been for a long time. I would have wanted to know.”

Kiley got up from the barstool. She couldn’t sit there any longer; the conversation was too painful. She moved toward the door, then stopped, remembering the original reason for her visit. “You and Will talked this morning?” She came back to stand beside Grainger.

“Yes.” They were nearly eye to eye as he remained seated.

“Do you want to tell me what you told him?”

“That I behaved badly. That Mack died because of it.”

Kiley reached out and touched Grainger’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, Grainger. It was mine.”

“It doesn’t really matter. Mack is dead because of us.” His words were harsh, but he didn’t shake off her hand as she touched his cheek. He opened his arms, gathering her gently against his shoulder. He rested his cheek against her hair and rocked her slightly, as if they were on the deck of a boat. “I wish you’d told me about Will.”

“I have so many regrets, I can’t even begin to apologize.”

“Do you regret having him?”

“Oh, no. I’ve never regretted that.”

Grainger held her gently, as if holding her closer would break them both.

Kiley pulled away from him. “I should go.”

“Tell your father I’ll crew on
Random
.” Grainger let go of her. “Tell him I’ll get her in the water by the end of the month. If I can have Will’s help.”

“Maybe you and Will could come back later and we can go over
Random
to see what needs to be done.” Grainger had walked her to the door.

Kiley shook her head. “I can’t, Grainger.”

He had his hand on the doorknob and leaned his weight against it. “I understand.”

“No, it’s not…I’m having dinner with Conor MacKenzie.” Instantly, Kiley knew she’d said it wrong, but any attempt to rephrase it wouldn’t make it sound any less significant. Grainger held the door wide, and she stepped outside where the sunlight made her squint. “It’s no big deal; I can put him off.”

“No. Please don’t. It was just an idea.”

The fleeting comfort Kiley had enjoyed was gone, in its place a new tension.

There seemed little else to say. “Nice to see you,” seemed an awesome understatement. They were standing on either side of a gateless fence; she had raised the central division between them by speaking Conor MacKenzie’s name.

“Good-bye, Grainger.”

“Good-bye, Kiley.” His dog sat at his feet.

Kiley started up the drive.

“Kiley?”

She hated the involuntary squeeze of her heart at his call.

“Tell Will to come back tomorrow if he wants to help.” Grainger didn’t wait for her reply, but turned and shut the door.

•   •   •

When Kiley got home, Will was on the porch. He’d made sandwiches and iced tea. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she mounted the steps. What would he say to her? She wouldn’t tell Will she’d been with Grainger just yet. She wanted to hear what his reaction was to Grainger’s story. Would he retreat into the grunts and shrugs of adolescence, or would he open up?

Will was flopped in a rocking chair, his feet up against the railing, and half of a ham-and-cheese sandwich already down. “Where were you?”

“Out for a walk.” She sat down and picked up a sandwich. “How was it?”

Will set his big feet down on the floor and put out one hand. Kiley put hers in his, amazed once again how big his were, how manly. She felt the roughness of a new callus where he’d been holding on to lines all morning. She heard her own breath going in and out of her chest, and waited for him to say something.

“It was okay. Grainger was pretty open about stuff.” Will took another bite of sandwich, chewing slowly, as if his first hunger was in abeyance. “He says I’ll make a good sailor.”

“What else did he say?” Was Will being deliberately maddening?

Her son squeezed her fingers and then let go. “Enough. Enough for now.”

Will needed time to digest this story, so long in the keeping. She’d have to let him come to his own conclusions about how to handle what he’d heard. At least—at the very least—he was here, wolfing sandwiches and smiling. It would have to be enough.

“Are you okay with it?” She was allowed that one question.

“I think so. I mean, it is a pretty romantic story. Let’s just say that it could have been a lot worse. I don’t mean that losing Mack like that wasn’t a tragedy; obviously it affected all of you forever. But I mean…” Will set his crust down on the platter and picked up half of a second sandwich. He didn’t bite it, but held it in his hand, studying it. “For a long time I worried that I was the product of a rape, that you made up a fairy tale about the love of your life. Thankfully, I’m not. I’m the product of one of the
two
loves of your life. How bad is that?”

Kiley made no move to wipe the steadily rolling tears away from her cheeks. How bad, indeed? Had she wept more in front of him this week than at any other time in his life?

He finished the second sandwich and gulped down a glass of tea. “Gotta go.”

“Where?”

Kiley was surprised at the flush that reddened his already sun-reddened cheeks.

“I’m picking up a girl and going to the beach.”

“ ‘A girl’? Do you have one in mind, or are you going to cruise the streets?” she teased.

“Yeah, I have one in mind. We met at the fireworks, and then I ran into her at Starbucks the other day. Catherine Ames. Lives on Bailey’s Farm Road.” Will was standing over her chair, slightly to one side, where he could see her face but she couldn’t see his. “She’s taking me to Bailey’s Beach.”

“Oh. Right.” Bailey’s Beach.

“I can have the car, can’t I?”

“Sure.” Kiley busied herself rearranging the remaining sandwich halves on the platter. “Be home by five. I need the car.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to meet with Dr. MacKenzie in Great Harbor. About finding a job.”

Will hovered for a moment, half in and half out the door. “A job here?”

“No. Just about making some contacts for me.”

Will bounded into the house, the screen door slamming behind him. In five minutes he was back, stuffing a beach blanket and towels into his backpack. “Hey, tell me one thing.”

“What?”

“Why don’t you want to see Grainger?”

Kiley fiddled with the remaining sandwiches. “Actually, I did.”

“Good. What did you talk about?”

“None of your beeswax.”

“About me?”

“A little. He wants you to help him get Pop’s boat back in the water.”

“Sweet.”

“So, tell me about you and Lori.” For days now, Kiley had been wanting to ask Will this question. It was obvious something was up, with Will’s never calling the girl, and her unopened envelopes collecting on his bureau. Now he’d given her the opening.

Will slung the backpack over one shoulder and went down the porch steps. “We broke up.”

“Why?”

“She broke it off.”

“She’s a fool.”

“She was right. We do need to see other people, and if I don’t go now, I’ll be late for my other people.”

“Will?” Kiley called just as he reached the Mazda.

“I know, be home by five.”

“No. I just don’t want you to get any idea that…” She paused, waiting until Will fixed his attention on her. “Don’t get any ideas about Grainger and me. About some reconciliation. It’s a détente.”

Will raised his chin in that way he had when he’d been told something he didn’t want to hear. “Suit yourself. But it’s my life.”

“No, it’s not. It really doesn’t have anything to do with you. All you need to worry about is if you want to work with Grainger tomorrow.”

It felt as if he’d known Catherine Ames all of his life. She was so easy to be around. They played in the water like little kids, splashing and doing handstands. After swimming, they stretched out on his beach blanket, half dozing in the fading July afternoon. Even the silences were natural. Will lay beside Catherine and studied the curve of her long neck beneath the short-chopped hair, the way it looked so delicate coming to the point between her thin shoulders where it joined her back in a V. He wanted to trace one finger down each of her vertebrae. Catherine lifted her face to look at him as if suddenly aware of his contemplation. She smiled. “So, how long are you here, college boy?”

Will lifted himself up to rest his cheek against his fist. “Not long enough. We’re gone the end of the month, unless Mom has a change of heart.”

“Then you’re off to Cornell?”

“Labor Day weekend. What about you?”

Catherine smiled, a slightly enigmatic smile. A pleased smile. “Ithaca College.”

Will let the bubble of surprised laughter out. “No way!”

Catherine laughed too. “Yep. We’ll be neighbors.” She handed him a tube of sunblock. “Did your mother ever tell you about Joe Green?”

“No. My mother never told me anything about Hawke’s Cove.” Will hoped he didn’t sound petulant. But it was true. Until two days ago he knew absolutely nothing. He stroked the sunblock across her shoulders.

“During the war this guy crashed his fighter plane into the Cove, and then swam to shore right here on Bailey’s Beach. Technically, he was a deserter. AWOL. The woman who owned Bailey’s Farm took him in, and they fell in love. But at the end of the war, she went back to the city when her husband came home. Joe Green stayed here. Not once has he ever left Hawke’s Cove. He kept both his past and their love affair secret until, can you believe it, the nineties, when their separate children found out about both secrets. Then his daughter and her son fell in love and married each other, and still spend summers in the farmhouse. Charlie and Maggie Worth, I used to baby-sit for them. I’ve even met them, Joe and Vangie. They’re wicked old, but they still hold hands. They never forgot each other over all that time.”

Will capped the tube and handed it back to Catherine. “Charlie Worth was in the game on the Fourth. Pretty good for an old guy.”

Catherine rolled her eyes, then slapped Will. “That’s not the point. Don’t you think that it’s romantic, carrying a torch for each other for fifty years?”

Will wrapped his long arms around his knees and stared out at the rumpled water. “Do you think that’s really possible? Don’t you think that if too much time goes by, you just move on?”

Catherine handed him a box of cheese crackers. “I believe if you’re meant for someone, it doesn’t matter how long it takes.”

“How do you know if you’re meant for someone?”

Catherine fished a Snapple out of the cooler and passed it to Will. “I don’t think it’s like in the movies, all instant recognition and all. But I do think that there are signs.”

Will popped the cover off the Snapple bottle and took a long drink. “I’m just beginning to find out some stuff about my mother.”

“Like what?”

“I grew up without a father, and now I may have two.”

“Like having two mommies?”

“No. Not exactly. Most of my life, I’ve just ignored the fact that I didn’t have a father. In our town, it’s not unusual to have a single parent. Shit, half the kids in my fifth-grade class were children of single mothers. Or patched-together families of steps and step-steps.”

“So what’s the matter?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’m supposedly a good listener.” They were a few inches apart, as befitted casual aquaintances, a safe distance, one that might be crossed or respected without challenge.

“I might have been conceived here. On this very beach.”

“How do you know that?”

“You wouldn’t want to know.”

“Try me.” Catherine, whom he had met less than three days ago, reached across the tiny divide and linked her fingers with his. “I promise you’ll feel better.”

It was that little touch that did him in, which pricked his reserve and let the words begin to flow out. Slowly at first, then, more rapidly, as thoughts he had yet to formulate were suddenly articulated. He told this girl, gently linking her fingers with his, everything. About how he’d grown up always wondering who his father was. Why they were in Hawke’s Cove, his run-in with the law, and his breakup with Lori. Lori seemed so distant now. So insignificant. He tested the recent hurt to his pride that her pronouncement had caused, and found it gone. Too much else had reduced it to a mere memory. Memory. That’s what his mother wanted all of this to remain. She didn’t want him to pursue finding out the hard truth about his paternity.

“So now my mother is all weird about seeing Grainger. I mean, think about it. She slept with him and she slept with Mack, and here I am and Mack is dead and only…” Will stopped talking. His mouth felt dry and the Snapple was gone. Surely he’d put Catherine to sleep with his tale. Then he felt her fingers increase their pressure on his. With his other hand, Will outlined circles in the sand.

“I think you need to talk to Grainger. I think that he’d go along with having the DNA test.”

“It’s not just that. I don’t understand why he and my mother seem so angry with each other. It’s not like they were divorced and there’s all this animosity. It’s like…I don’t know. Nothing I’ve ever experienced.”

“Like two proud, stubborn Yankees.”

“Yeah. Stubborn.”

“So, trick ’em.”

“My mother already told me this isn’t, and I quote, ‘the fucking
Parent Trap
.’ She’s never used that word in my hearing before, so I’m not too keen on playing childish tricks to get them in the same room.”

“Wow. Okay, you should use not-so-childish tricks.”

“Like what?”

“Hmmm. It would be handy if you were struck with some nearly fatal disease. You could get them to reconcile over your sickbed.”

Will felt a giggle rise in his chest, an unfamiliar sensation lately. Ever since Lori, there had been little to laugh over. Then Catherine laughed out loud, and he joined her until the laughter became guffaws and he had to grip his belly against the welcome pain. “That might get all three of them together: Mom, Grainger, and the doctor who might or might not be my uncle. Wow. Brilliant. I feel a fever coming on.”

Suddenly Catherine kissed him. A sweet, gentle, friendly kiss. Will took her face in his hands; he breathed in her Snapple-scented breath and lowered his lips to meet hers. “Thank God you’re here. I’d be banging my head against a brick wall if you weren’t.”

“I told you I was a good listener.”

“More than that, Catherine. Much more.” For some reason, the name of the boat came to Will as he moved to kiss Catherine again.
Blithe Spirit
. Exactly how he would describe Catherine to anyone. Exactly how Mack and Grainger had viewed Kiley. No wonder it had been impossible for them to not fall in love with her. Will gently pulled away from Catherine. He didn’t want history to repeat itself on this beach. “I have to be home in”—he looked at his watch—“one minute.”

“Oops.”

“Want to come over tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Mom’s going out.” Will got to his feet and pulled Catherine to hers. “She’s going out with Mack’s brother.”

“Oh, the handsome Dr. Conor MacKenzie?”

“Yeah. Supposedly she’s meeting him to talk about a job.”

“My aunt has a wicked crush on him. She keeps finding reasons to go see him. Every twinge and bellyache, and off she goes to consult Doc Conor. Hoping he’ll do more than prescribe.” Catherine stuffed her towel in her beach bag.

“So, he’s single?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Great.” Will jammed his towel into his backpack. “Great.”

“Will?”

Will looked at Catherine.

“Are you playing favorites?”

“Favorites how?”

“You wish your mother would be with Grainger Egan.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck who she dates. It’s immaterial to me.” Will slung his backpack over one shoulder and started up the path to the car.