Undertow (14 page)

But at a certain point, nothing can be achieved by feigning happiness. After about 30 minutes, I’m at that point. I stand to leave, and Graham stands too. “I’ll walk you,” he says.

“You don’t need to,” I sigh. Graham’s chivalry grew tedious about one week into the summer.

“Of course I do,” he insists.

I walk quickly, trying to march off some of my irritation at Nate, as misplaced as it is. The old Nate, the one of my youth, had so much sweetness about him. His devotion, his focus, was fierce and unrelenting. And it was mine. I need those things to stay gone. I can’t afford to think about what it would be like if they were mine again. And I can’t stand to think they might be someone else’s.

“God damn, you walk fast Maura!” laughs Graham. “Where’s the fire?”

“I’m just tired,” I apologize, without slowing my pace. “It’s been a long day.”

“Long day laying around on the beach?” he teases.

“You’re one to talk. Shouldn’t you be working by now?” I hadn’t given it much thought, but Graham doesn’t seem to be moving on with his life the way his friends have. Ethan has his MBA and a good job and he’s talking about buying a house. Jordan and Sammy are married and have kids.

“I’m just taking some time off,” he says vaguely.

We get to my grandmother’s house, and I sense his hesitation. He seems to waver, stepping closer to me instead of heading back down the street. Nate’s warning echoes in some distant part of my brain and I move away quickly, walking into the yard. I wave airily over my shoulder. “Thanks Graham!” I call, relieved to see that he isn’t following me.

“See you,” he says. Does he sound a little disgruntled, or am I reading too much into it thanks to Nate’s warning?

I’m tired, but not tired enough to sleep. I lay in bed listening, listening, listening. The sound of Nate’s truck never comes.

CHAPTER 26

I’m just returning from a run the next morning when he pulls in. I draw in a deep breath, trying not to hate him for doing exactly what any other 24-year-old male would probably do if he could score the way Nate does.

“Want to swim?” he asks with his lopsided smile. He’s in an unusually good mood, at least compared to mine, and it only pisses me off more. I have a pretty solid idea about the source of his good mood.

“You’re still in last night’s clothes,” I say sourly. I clearly didn’t try hard enough to dampen my irritation, and that this pleases him only irritates me further.

“Come on,” he says. “You know there’s nothing you like to do more after you run, and besides, it’ll cheer you up.”

“I’m surprised you have the energy after your
long night
,” I say pointedly, kicking myself as the words leave my mouth. I sound bitter, jealous even.

His smile widens. “Five minutes. Loser buys breakfast after.”

I groan. He knows I can’t turn down a challenge. I race upstairs without a word to anyone, not that I’d speak to my grandmother anyway, and am back down in less than four minutes. He’s already there, as I knew he would be, his smile unabashed.

By unspoken agreement we swim out to the sandbar. The waves that break here are much larger, and it used to be that if you caught a good one it would carry you all the way back to the shore. I’m still tired from my run, not sure how many return swims I have in me, so instead we go further into the waves and tread water.

“So what happens with Ethan when you leave in August?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” I ask, a tad defensively. I’m growing tired of the assumption that I should change my plans for a guy I’ve only dated for four months.

“Is he going with you?”

“No, of course not,” I reply too quickly. “His job is here.”

“But you guys seem pretty serious.”

I shrug. “I don’t know. You know how it is here. We all know each other too well. Assumptions are made.”

He’s grown oddly still in the water. “It’s pretty easy to clear up those assumptions if you want to.”

He doesn’t understand. I can’t explain how my family is, how they would implode if I stopped seeing Ethan. I can’t explain that it’s comforting to have Ethan here, while I’m so consumed with wanting things I can’t have.

“I don’t know,” I repeat. “I’m leaving in two months. That should take care of things all on its own.” He looks dubious, and I don’t blame him. I’m a little doubtful myself.

**

We go to the diner my grandfather always took us to, where they used to make Nate’s eggs and bacon into a smiley face, and my pancakes into Mickey Mouse.

“I’m not going to miss a lot about the south, but I’ll miss this,” I ruminate, looking around. Unlike other areas of Paradise Cove, I have only good memories associated with this place.

“You make it sound like you’re never coming back,” he says quietly, watching my face.

I focus on the mug in my hands. “I’m not sure I plan to,” I tell him. “There are a lot of things here I’d prefer to avoid.”

“Like what?”

I take a sip of my coffee. “Just all the expectations. My mom’s already disappointed in me for not being engaged. If I stay here I’ll end up married and pregnant, and the next thing I know I’ll be just like her, hanging out at the club all day, playing tennis and planning auctions.”

He watches me. “Which of those things don’t you want?”

“I don’t know if I want any of them,” I say. “Name one happy marriage.”

He looks at me oddly. “I’ve seen people happily married.”

I sigh. “I wish I could say the same, but I can’t. I don’t want to be my parents, or my grandparents. And I definitely don’t want to be Jordan and Mia.”

“But you don’t have to be any of them,” he says adamantly. “Don’t you want to know that there is one person in the world who knows exactly who and what you are and loves you because of it and in spite of it?” he asks. “Don’t you want to know that there’s someone who will fix you when you’re broken?”

This is the sweet side of him, the earnest side. I’m touched by it, and I don’t want to be. “Beautifully spoken by the guy who goes home with a different girl every single night,” I tease.

“Maybe I’m just trying to deal with the fact that I can’t have the one I want.” He looks away then, as if he’s said too much.

I don’t know if this is the emergence of the old, sincere Nate, or the new one – the one who will say or do anything he thinks might get him laid. But I seem to be susceptible to both, and that’s not a good thing.

**

Ethan calls that afternoon. “I’m sorry,” he says immediately. “You were right last night, and I was totally out of line.”

“It’s okay,” I reply, perhaps made more amenable by guilt. I spent two hours straight with Nate yesterday, and nearly twice that today.

“So you and Nate are … friends?” he asks hesitantly.

“Yes,” I answer firmly, recognizing as he must that my lack of certainty on this topic has disappeared completely. “We’re friends.”

“And now that you’re friends is he going to stop staring at you?” he asks snidely.

I sigh. “Ethan, he never did stare at me, and he can’t stop doing what he never did in the first place.”

“Whatever,” he says. “Even if you’re not, I’ll be keeping an eye on him.”

**

Two days later Nate is waiting for me again when I return from my run. Thankfully, this time he’s not just coming home.

“Swim?” he asks.

I laugh. “Don’t you have a job?”

“Really?” he asks, smiling. “
You’re
giving
me
crap about not working?”

Each day we seem to stretch out the time a little more. Our swim takes longer, our breakfast takes longer. While we eat, a girl comes over to our booth to talk to Nate, eyeing me curiously. She’s cute but not at all Nate’s type. Of course, based on what I’ve seen this summer that doesn’t necessarily mean he hasn’t slept with her. “I’m Beth,” she says, reaching across the table to shake my hand. I’ll give her points for being both polite and ballsy if she
did
sleep with him.

“Maura,” I say, shaking her hand.

A smile crosses her face. “
The
Maura?” she asks Nate with an eyebrow arched. She looks delighted with this for some reason.

Nate sighs. “Yes,” he mutters, shooting her a warning glance. “Beth is a bartender at a place in town I go to sometimes.”

“
Sometimes
?” she laughs. “You were there every night of the year until this summer.” He shoots her another look, and a secret smile crosses her face as she looks back to me.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,
Maura
,” she says with emphasis, grinning at Nate one last time.

She leaves and I look at him, waiting for an explanation.

He says nothing.

“Well?” I ask.

“She’s a friend,” he mutters, not meeting my eye. “Your name may have come up once or twice.”

He looks so embarrassed by the whole thing that I resist the temptation to give him shit about it. I settle for being quietly pleased.

We leave the diner and he takes a meandering route back home, from one end of the island to the next. When we approach the graveyard I feel him hesitating.

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “Go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

“Why don’t you come with me?” he asks, surprising me. I hesitate, because it seems like such a private thing, before I agree.

We walk past the graves. I trail my fingers over my grandfather’s, a quick hello to him on my way. Nate stares at it for a moment.

“I miss him,” he says simply.

I sigh. “So do I.” Especially now. He’s the anchor my family needs. Without him, we all seem adrift.

We get to Mary’s grave and Nate stares at the flowers there, just beginning to wilt.

“You came here,” he says.

I flush, feeling as if I’ve intruded somehow. “Yes,” I reply reluctantly.

“Why?”

“I miss her too, Nate,” I almost whisper. “And I wanted to apologize.”

“
You
didn’t do anything wrong,” he says.

“But she didn’t know that.”

He never looks over at me, but his fingers reach for mine, entwining again as if things never changed. We stand there wordlessly, still holding hands, and when we leave it feels like some of the weight has been lifted. It feels like she really knows now.

**

That afternoon I head over to Peter’s office and begin culling through relevant briefs again. I’m beginning to wonder if this isn’t just busy work he’s created for me out of pity.

He comes out of his office and sits on my desk. “I have a favor to ask, and it’s a little awkward.”

I nod warily.

“Work is beginning on the new walkways. The problem is we don’t know when, exactly, they’ll attempt to destroy them again.”

I dread the request I know is coming.

“You’re dating Stephen’s son,” he says. “You may be the only chance we’ve got of finding out what they have planned. I’m hoping you’ll just keep your ears open.”

It’s a whole new level of duplicity, one that could potentially lead to the arrest of Ethan’s father. What Mr. Mayhew is doing is wrong. But I’m not sure it’s any more wrong than what I’m about to agree to. “Okay,” I tell him reluctantly. “Although I doubt I’ll be much help. It’s not the kind of thing they’re going to discuss in front of me. Couldn’t the police just stake it out?”

He shakes his head ruefully. “Police aren’t touching this with a ten-foot-pole. At least not the higher ups. Whoever’s behind this has deep pockets, and probably has enough power to make sure our chief-of-police is out of a job if need be. They’ll try to shove it under the carpet. Probably won’t even send out a patrol if we call it in.”

“If the police aren’t going to help then what’s the point in trying to catch them?” I ask.

“They can still help us if we play it right. If an officer on our side just
happens
to be driving by, just
happens
to see it and arrest the guys doing it, and it just
happens
to gets leaked to the press, it’ll force the issue.”

“This sounds kind of farfetched, Peter,” I say. “What are the odds the right cop is going to be driving by just as it happens?”

“Don’t worry about that part of it,” he assures me. “If you find out when they’re doing it, I promise you the right people will get there.”

CHAPTER 27

Ethan calls on Friday afternoon. He doesn’t even say hello. “Are you wearing that red bikini again?” he growls.

I laugh. “I’m afraid not, baby.”

“Please be the cut-off shorts, please be the cut-off shorts,” he says, almost like a mantra.

“Sorry, dude. I’m sitting on my front porch with Jordan and Jackie and a pitcher of margaritas and I am fully clothed.”

“Jordan and
Jackie
?” he asks, sounding troubled.

We haven’t seen each other in two weeks. I suppose it’s reasonable he’d be less than thrilled that I have a friend visiting. On my end, having her here is a relief. Every time I see Ethan, every time he pulls me into his lap, holds my hand, climbs on top of me … it feels like I’m slipping a little further into a hole I won’t be able to climb out of. Jackie will help me keep my footing.

And my isolation here is beginning to make me question everything – why am I the only one who doesn’t feel this whole marriage thing with Ethan is a little premature? I need someone, anyone, to tell me I’m not crazy.

“Yeah, they beat you by an hour.”

“They rode down together?” he asks, the words a little strained.

“Yep,” I say. “Are you almost here? Do you want to swing by?”

“Sure,” he says, sounding remote. “Be there in five.”

I watch Ethan climb out of his car with new eyes, with Jackie’s eyes, because I’m trying to imagine what she sees. Ethan is hot. He’s tall, he’s got a good body, a great smile, clear blue eyes. In his suit pants and his button-down with the tie pulled off he is irresistible. Jackie will drag me into therapy if I tell her about my reluctance to get more involved with him. He smiles at me, and despite all my confusion I’m happy to see him. I want him cuddled up beside me on the porch swing, I want the feeling of his leg pressed against mine, the way he’ll take my hand once he sits.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “You sounded a little off on the phone.” He grabs a beer out of Jordan’s cooler and sits beside me.

“I was just disappointed about the bikini,” he grins. “You’re wearing way too much clothing right now.” His smile falters a little, though, and I wonder what it is that he can’t tell me.

**

Jackie fits right in when we go out at night — helped, no doubt, by the four beers she pounds within the first hour.

“Holy fucking hotness,” she moans, looking over my shoulder. I feel my stomach sink at her words. Nate isn’t the only guy who could elicit those words from her mouth, but he’s the most likely to. And sure enough, there he is, sitting at the bar. He smiles at us both when I look over my shoulder. It’s not his real smile. It’s his dirty smile, the one that offers you five minutes with him in a bathroom stall, and as far as I can tell it works 100% of the time.

“I’m in love,” she sighs, flinging her hair over her shoulder and trying to maintain eye contact with him.

“Don’t,” I say, far more sharply than I intended.

“Wuh – what?” she asks, seeming to sober suddenly as she looks at me in confusion.

I try to soften my voice, checking to make sure Ethan isn’t listening. “Please, Jackie. Not him,” I say quietly.

“Why?” she cries, a little distraught.

“Please,” I beg. “I’ll tell you later. Please just don’t.” I look her in the eye to let her know I’m serious, to see her confirm that she understands.

“Okey dokey,” she sings, raising a brow at me. She looks back over at Nate. “You and him, huh?”

“Not here,” I hiss, as Ethan turns back toward us.

“God damn I want to be reborn as you, Maura,” she laughs.

We stay at Oak far later than I would like, and we do so for only one reason: I’m not leaving here without Jackie, and she doesn’t want to leave. I love her, but she’s had a lot to drink, and I don’t know if she’ll keep her promise.

“Ready to go, baby?” asks Ethan, kneading my shoulders.

“I can’t leave Jackie,” I say.

“Jordan’ll take care of her,” he says.

“I don’t know,” I say, looking nervously at Jordan. He’s not much of one to take care of people other than himself.

“Jordan!” calls Ethan. “Make sure Jackie gets home, will you?” I shoot him a dirty look. He’s now put me in an impossible situation, because I absolutely do not trust Jordan to take care of this.

“Go ahead, Mom!” shouts Jackie drunkenly. “I’ll be home by curfew.”

I’ve never been so reluctant to leave this bar.

Ethan drives me home, but as we walk through the yard he tugs me sideways. “Come here,” he whispers.

“What are you doing?” I ask, pulling slightly against his hand, trying to head to the back door.

“Come on,” he tugs again. I go reluctantly. He pulls me behind the shed, and then grabs my hips and pulls me into him.

“You look so unbelievably hot in that dress,” he murmurs against my ear, his mouth moving over my neck while his hands lift the hem and rise beneath it.

“Not here, Ethan,” I say, squirming a little without actually moving away from him.

“Maura, I’m a grown man,” he says, his voice muted against my skin. “It’s been
weeks
, and I can only stand so much hand-holding, especially if you’re going to dress like that.”

I don’t want this. I feel sick thinking about Jackie coming home with Nate. And I feel sick thinking of the way Nate once kissed me here, pulling me off my bike like he would die if he waited a moment longer.

“I’m sorry,” I beg. “I can’t do this here.”

Ethan walks me to my grandmother’s door unhappily, trying hard to salvage his mood and failing. I hate that he’s leaving unhappy. I hate even more that I left Jackie behind. I lie awake, waiting for her. I wait until it’s so late that there’s only one conclusion I can come to, and then I just wonder why I didn’t hear him bringing her home.

When I wake, Jackie is there, asleep on the mattress on my floor, still fully clothed. I sit up and stare at her, trying to determine how I can get through the rest of the weekend hating her the way I do at this moment. I would like to send her home, and I know I can’t, particularly since she rode here with Jordan.

“Why are you staring at me?” she mumbles through heavy-lidded eyes.

“I can’t believe you did it,” I hiss, and even I am surprised by the venom in my voice. It wakes her up immediately.

“Did what?” she asks, but she looks frightened enough that it’s an admission of guilt all on its own.

“You fucking slept with him!” I cry.

“Um,” she mumbles nervously. “Sorry?” she says, flinching at the look on my face.

“I begged you, Jackie. I begged you,” I say, and I feel tears forming.

“Wait,” she says, confused. “Who are you talking about?”

“Nate!” I hiss. “How could you? What have I ever asked of you, in all these years, aside from that one thing?”

Realization dawns on her face. “I didn’t sleep with Nate,” she says firmly enough that I’m inclined to believe her. I still watch her suspiciously.

“Then what were you apologizing for?” I ask.

Her eyes widen and she remains silent.

“Who did you sleep with, Jackie?” I demand.

She looks down at the mattress, and still says nothing.

“Did you, or did you not, sleep with Nate?” I ask, voice rising. I realize now that I am too angry to keep her here. I am too angry to ever look at her face again if she slept with him.

“I did not sleep with Nate,” she repeats, still not meeting my eye.

“Then who … ?” I ask, trying to puzzle it out. She slept with someone, clearly, and it’s someone she thought she needed to apologize for.

“Ethan?” I ask, my voice more surprised than upset.

“No!” she gasps, shocked. “How can you even ask that?”

And then I know, because there’s only one other person it could possibly be.

“Jordan.”

She says nothing.

“Did you sleep with Jordan, Jackie?” I ask coolly.

“I’m so sorry, Maura,” she pleads. “We were really drunk and I didn’t even think about who I was with until we were in the middle of it and then it was too late.”

I spend all of 10 seconds being stunned that it happened, and 20 more being stunned that I didn’t figure it out sooner. Them riding here together. Her on Jordan’s lap at graduation, Jordan not coming home that night, and Ethan’s strange reaction to them yesterday. “This wasn’t the first time, was it?” I ask.

She hesitates, not meeting my eye. “Please don’t say anything,” she begs. “I know it was a mistake, and he knows it was a mistake. Please don’t make it worse.”

“A mistake is something that happens once,” I tell her. They traveled here together. There’s no way this is as unintended as she wants to make it sound.

We go to the beach with Ethan, and by midday Jordan joins us. I don’t meet his eye. My loyalty should be to him, not to Mia, I tell myself. But also I remember how he failed to come home the last time he and Mia came to the beach, and I think about how withdrawn she’s become. And I realize that I don’t need to tell Mia. I’m pretty sure she already knows.