The Choice (14 page)

As she’d spoken, Gabby had grown pale. Interpreting a direct hit, Stephanie propped herself on an elbow. “You want me to go on?”

“No,” Gabby said.

“I was right, wasn’t I?”

Gabby exhaled sharply. “Not about everything.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Where was I wrong?”

Instead of answering, Gabby shook her head and rolled back onto her towel. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Gabby expected Stephanie to persist, but instead, Stephanie simply shrugged and lay back on her towel, as if she’d never said anything at all.

Gabby could hear the sounds of children frolicking in the surf and distant, indistinguishable strains of conversation. Her head spun at Stephanie’s assessment; it was as if the woman had known her all her life and were privy to her darkest secrets.

“By the way, in case you’re freaking out, I should probably let you know I’m psychic,” Stephanie remarked. “Weird, but true. Came from my grandmother, as far as I could tell. The woman was famous for predicting the weather.”

Gabby sat up as a wave of relief washed over her, even though she knew the concept was preposterous. “Really?”

Stephanie laughed again. “No, of course not! My grandmother watched
Let’s Make a Deal
for years and never once beat the contestants. But be honest. I was right on the money, wasn’t I?”

Gabby’s thoughts went full circle once more, leaving her almost dizzy. “But how . . . ?”

“Easy,” Stephanie said, lying back down. “I just inserted your ‘amazingly personal experiences’ into pretty much every woman who ever lived. Well, except for the part about Travis. I guessed about that. But it’s pretty amazing, huh? I study that, too, by the way. I’ve been part of half a dozen studies, and it always amazes me that once you cut through the clutter, people are pretty much the same. Especially through adolescence and early adulthood. For the most part, people go through the same experiences and think the same things, but somehow no one ever escapes the belief that his experience is unique in every conceivable way.”

Gabby lay back on her towel, deciding it might be best if she simply ignored Stephanie for a while. As much as she liked her, the woman made her head spin way too frequently.

“Oh, in case you were curious,” Stephanie remarked, “Travis isn’t seeing anyone. He’s not only single, but he’s eligible.”

“I wasn’t curious.”

“Since you have a boyfriend, right?”

“Right. But even if I didn’t have a boyfriend, I wouldn’t have been curious.”

Stephanie laughed. “Yes, of course. How could I have been so wrong? I guess I must have been fooled by the way you keep staring at him.”

“I haven’t been staring.”

“Oh, don’t be so touchy. After all, he’s been staring at you, too.”

Ten

F
rom her spot on her towel, Gabby inhaled the scent of charcoal, hot dogs, burgers, and chicken wafting on a gentle breeze. Despite the breeze—and the lotion—Gabby’s skin felt as if it were beginning to sizzle. It sometimes struck her as ironic that her ancestors from Scotland and Ireland had bypassed northern climates with similar cloudy weather to move to a place where prolonged exposure to the sun practically guaranteed melanoma in people like them—or, at the very least, wrinkles, which was the reason her mother wore hats even if her time outside was limited to walking to and from the car. The fact that Gabby was subjecting herself to sun damage was something she didn’t want to think about, because the truth was she liked having a tan, and getting a tan felt sort of good. Besides, in just a little while she’d put on her shirt again and force herself to sit in the shade.

Stephanie had been uncharacteristically quiet since her last comment. In some people, that would have struck Gabby as discomfort or shyness; in Stephanie, it came across as the kind of confidence Gabby had always secretly coveted. Because Stephanie was so comfortable with herself, she made Gabby feel comfortable around her, which, she had to admit, was a feeling she had been missing lately. For a long time, she hadn’t been comfortable at home; she still wasn’t comfortable at work; and she was less than confident about where things were going with Kevin.

As for Travis—the man definitely made her uncomfortable. Well, when he wasn’t wearing his shirt, anyway. Sneaking a peek, she spotted him sitting in the sand near the water’s edge, building drip castles with the three toddlers. When their attention seemed to waver, he rose from his spot and chased them into the shallow surf, the sound of their joyous screams echoing through the air. Travis seemed to be having as much fun as they were, and the sight of him made her want to smile. She forced herself not to, on the off chance he might see it and get the wrong idea.

The aroma finally forced Gabby to sit up. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being on some exotic island vacation instead of only minutes from Beaufort. The gentle waves lapped in steady rhythm, and the few vacant beach houses behind them looked as if they’d been dropped from the sky. Over her shoulder, a path cut through the dunes, angling toward the black-and-white lighthouse that had weathered thousands of rainstorms.

Surprisingly, no one else had joined them at the cove, which only added to its appeal. Off to the side, she saw Laird standing over the portable grill, wielding a pair of tongs. Megan was lining up bags of potato chips and buns and opening Tupperware containers on a small fold-up table, while Liz was setting out condiments along with paper plates and plastic utensils. Joe and Matt were behind them, tossing a football back and forth. She couldn’t remember a weekend from her childhood where a group of families got together to enjoy one another’s company in a gorgeous spot simply because it was . . . Saturday. She wondered if this was the way most people lived, or whether it had more do with life in a small town, or whether it was simply a habit that these friends had formed long ago. Whatever it was, she suspected she could get used to it.

“Food’s ready!” Laird shouted.

Gabby slipped on her shirt and wandered toward the food, surprised by how hungry she was until she remembered that she hadn’t had a chance to eat breakfast. Over her shoulder, she saw Travis doing his best to herd the kids forward, scurrying around them like a cattle dog. The three of them rushed toward the grill, where Megan stood guard.

“Line up on the blanket,” she ordered, and the toddlers— obviously out of well-trained habit—did exactly as they were told.

“Megan has magic powers with kids,” Travis observed over her shoulder. He was breathing heavily, his hands on his hips. “I wish they listened to me like that. I have to resort to chasing them until I’m about to pass out.”

“But you seem like such a natural.”

“I love playing with them, not herding.” He leaned toward her conspiratorially. “But between you and me? This is what I’ve learned about parents: The more you play with their kids, the more they love you. When they watch someone who adores their kids—genuinely delighting in them the same way they do—well, he just becomes the cat’s meow in the parents’ eyes.”

“Cat’s meow?”

“I’m a vet. I like animal clichés.”

She couldn’t suppress a smile. “You’re probably right about playing with the kids. My favorite relative was an aunt who would climb trees with me and my sisters while all the other grown-ups sat in the living room talking.”

“And yet . . . ,” he said, motioning toward Stephanie, “there you were, just lounging on the towel with my sister, instead of taking the chance to show these people that you find their kids irresistible.”

“I . . .”

“I was kidding.” He winked. “The fact is, I wanted to spend time with them. And in a little while, they’ll start getting cranky. That’s when I finally collapse in a beach chair, wipe my brow, and let their parents take over.”

“In other words, when the going gets tough, the tough get going.”

“I think . . . that when the time comes, I just might volunteer your services.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No problem. Hey—you hungry?”

“Starved.”

By the time they reached the food, the kids were seated on the blanket with hot dogs, potato salad, and some diced fruit. Liz, Megan, and Allison sat near enough to monitor, but far enough away to converse. All three, Gabby noticed, ate chicken, along with various side dishes. Joe, Matt, and Laird had taken seats on the coolers and sat with their plates on their knees, bottles of beer propped up in the sand.

“Burgers or chicken?” Gabby inquired.

“I like chicken. But the burgers are supposed to be terrific. I just never really acquired the taste for red meat.”

“I thought all men ate burgers.”

“Then I guess I’m not a man.” He straightened up. “Which, I must say, is really going to surprise and disappoint my parents. Being that they gave me a masculine name and all.”

She laughed. “Well . . .” She nodded toward the grill. “They clearly saved the last piece of chicken for you.”

“That’s only because we got here before Stephanie. She would have taken it, even though she’d rather have a burger, just because she knows I’d end up not eating.”

“I knew there was a reason I liked her.”

They reached for some plates as they eyed the appetizing variety of side dishes spread out on the table—beans, casseroles, potato, cucumber, and fruit salads—all of which smelled delicious. Gabby grabbed a bun, added some ketchup, mustard, and pickles, and held out her plate. Travis dropped the chicken onto his plate, then lifted a burger from the side of the grill and added it to her bun.

He scooped some fruit salad onto his plate; Gabby added a taste of pretty much everything. When she was finished, she looked at both their plates with an almost guilty expression, which Travis thankfully didn’t seem to notice.

“Would you like a beer?” he asked.

“Sounds great.”

He reached into the cooler and fished out a Coors Light, then grabbed a bottle of water for himself.

“Gotta drive the boat,” he explained. He lifted his plate in the direction of the dunes. “How about over there?”

“Don’t you want to eat near your friends?”

“They’ll be all right,” he said.

“Lead the way.”

They trudged toward the low dune, a spot shaded by a sickly, salt-poisoned tree, with branches all pointing in the same direction, bent by years of ocean breezes. Gabby could feel the sand slipping beneath her feet. Travis took a seat near the dune, lowering himself to the sand Indian style in a single movement. Gabby sat next to him with considerably less grace, making sure to leave enough distance between them so they wouldn’t accidentally touch. Even in the shade, the sand and water beyond were so bright that she had to squint.

Travis began to cut his piece of chicken, the plastic utensils bending under the pressure.

“Coming out here reminds me of high school,” he remarked. “I can’t tell you how many weekends we spent here back then.” He shrugged. “Different girls and no kids, of course.”

“I’ll bet that was fun.”

“It was,” he said. “I remember one night, Joe and Matt and Laird and I were out here with a few girls we were trying to impress. We were sitting around a bonfire, drinking beer, telling jokes, and laughing. . . and I remember thinking that life couldn’t get any better.”

“Sounds like a Budweiser commercial. Aside from the fact that you were underage and the whole thing was illegal.”

“And you never did anything like that, right?”

“Actually, no,” she said. “I didn’t.”

“Really? Never?”

“Why do you look so surprised?”

“I don’t know. I guess . . . I just don’t see you as someone who grew up following all the rules.” When he saw her expression, he backtracked. “Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just meant that you strike me as independent and someone who’s always up for new adventures.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

As soon as she said it, she remembered saying the same thing to Stephanie. She braced herself for what might come next.

He absently moved his fruit with his fork. “I know that you moved away from your home, that you bought your own house, that you’re making it on your own. To me, that means independence. And as for adventurous—you’re here with a bunch of strangers, aren’t you? You went parasailing and even overcame the thought of sharks to get dipped in the water. Those were new challenges. I think that’s admirable.”

She blushed, liking Travis’s answer much better than his sister’s. “Maybe,” she conceded. “But it’s not like traveling around the world without an itinerary.”

“Don’t let that fool you. You think I wasn’t nervous when I left? I was terrified. I mean, it’s one thing to tell your friends what you’re going to do, and it’s another thing entirely to actually get on the plane and land in a country where barely anyone speaks English. Have you traveled?”

“Not much. Aside from a spring break I spent in the Bahamas, I’ve never been out of the country. And if you get right down to it, if you stay close to the resort like I did—surrounded by American college kids—it could have passed for Florida.” She paused. “Where are you going next? Your next big adventure?”

“Nothing too far-flung this time. I’m going to the Grand Tetons. Do some camping, hiking, canoeing, the works. I’ve heard it’s breathtaking, and I’ve never been there.”

“Are you going alone?”

“No,” he said. “I’m going with my dad. I can’t wait.”

Gabby made a face. “I can’t imagine going off on a trip with either one of my parents.”

“Why not?”

“My parents? You’d have to know them to understand.”

He waited. In the silence, she set aside her plate and brushed off her hands.

“All right,” she said with a sigh. “First off, my mom is the kind of lady who believes that staying in anything less than a five-star hotel is roughing it. And my dad? I suppose I could imagine him doing something more exciting, except for the fact that he’s never shown interest in anything other than fishing. And besides, he wouldn’t go anywhere without Mom, and since she has her standards, that means the only time spent outdoors is patio dining. With a fancy wine list and waiters in black and white, of course.”