Beach Blondes: June Dreams, July's Promise, August Magic (Summer) (44 page)

“I do
not
believe I’m hearing that come out of your mouth, Marquez,” Diana said. “If that’s true, then why aren’t you going with J.T. anymore?”

Marquez looked mightily uncomfortable. “Oh, that. Did I mention that we’re back together?”

Summer and Diana just stared at her.

“It’s no big deal,” Marquez said. “It’s not like it’s happily-ever-after time.”

Suddenly there was a light tapping sound at the glass door of Diana’s balcony.

Summer jumped. Marquez cursed. Diana smiled.

“Call the cops,” Marquez hissed. “This is the second floor!”

But Diana opened the door. The shock when Diver stepped inside was total. At least it was for Summer and Marquez.

“I didn’t want to ring the doorbell,” he offered by way of explanation.

“That’s okay,” Diana said. “You don’t have to worry about my mom.”

Diver looked down at the ground. He usually seemed rather serious, but now he seemed several stages past serious. His mouth was grim, his eyes uncharacteristically evasive.

“I, um, thought I’d better come tell you, before someone else told you,” he said to Diana.

“What?” she asked sharply.

“Out in the bay. The harbor patrol is out there. They’re fishing out a body.”

“Someone drowned?” Marquez asked.

Diver nodded. He kept his attention focused on Diana. “I was out there, and a guy I know came by in his boat. He told me who it was. I didn’t want you to hear about it on TV or something. It’s Ross Merrick. The harbor patrol say it was an accident. Ross is dead.”

They watched from Summer’s deck, the deck where Diver spent most nights sleeping. The sky was clear and the stars were out, blazing gloriously overhead.

Brighter, though, was the searchlight of the harbor patrol boat, making an artificial noon out of a few square meters of black water. Other small craft had clustered around—the curious, anxious to find out what was going on. And on one of those boats Diana watched a second bright light appear—the light of a television camera.

The body of Ross Merrick had already been dragged aboard the harbor patrol launch, but they weren’t leaving yet. Everyone was hanging around in hopes of being on TV, Diana thought cynically. Or, to be grim, they were looking for some kind of evidence associated with Ross’s death.

Diana, Summer, Marquez, and Diver watched as a boat left from the dock of the Merrick estate. It sped toward the scene, slowing as it neared. Two silhouettes were visible. Diana had little doubt who they were: Adam and his father. Adam, going to identify his dead brother. The senator, going to view the remains of his eldest son.

Diana turned away, unnoticed by the others. She sat on the far edge of the deck, looking back toward her own home, so reassuringly bright in the night. Her own bedroom window, glittering through the branches of the trees.

It was odd, she thought, watching the way emotions boiled up within her, watching herself as if she were really up there on her balcony looking down at this sad little spectacle.

It was hard to sort out any one single emotion. The first, instant reaction had been pity. For Adam, mostly. She had loved Adam once. And Adam had never been all bad. Not even mostly bad. He was just loyal to his brother and, more important, loyal to his father.

She even felt a small share of pity for Ross. Nothing he had done—not even what he had tried to do—deserved death. She supposed he had been drunk, as he usually was. Probably while out in the Merrick boat, recklessly high, he’d fallen overboard.

However he had died, it was a shame. Ross had deserved to go to jail. He had needed to get some help. He had not deserved to end up facedown in the bay with his lungs full of warm salt water.

Diana shuddered at the image. These gentle, familiar waters would never again seem so benign.

There was another emotion too. It struggled with the decent emotions of pity and concern. It was dark and evil, and yet it pushed its way to the surface of her mind repeatedly. Triumph. Not joy exactly, but a cruel, animalistic sense of triumph. Ross had been made to pay for his assault on her. He had paid. He would never again threaten her or any other woman.

Diana noticed that her leg was pressed against a small, metal box with a hinged lid. It was battered and rusty, and had been shoved under an overhang of the eaves.

She opened it, idly curious. Inside were things she recognized—the clothing that she and Summer and Marquez had bought for Diver. It brought a faint smile to her lips. The store tags were still on every item.

She lifted the clothing, and underneath saw more things, junk mostly. A key chain in the shape of a tiny buoy; a cheap disposable razor; a bar of soap; a small, tattered book of poetry; bits of string; Band-Aids; and a chewed-up ball.

“Diana?”

Summer’s voice. Diana quickly dropped the lid on the box.

“Diana? Are you okay?” Summer came and sat beside her.

Diana tried to still her emotions. She didn’t want to betray anything to the others. They would understand pity. They would never understand, or forgive, those darker feelings.

“Sure,” Diana said. “I just didn’t want to watch anymore.”

“I understand,” Summer said. “This wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, it was probably because Ross got drunk,” she said. “He drank a lot, even before all this.”

“Exactly.”

“I didn’t want this to happen,” Diana said.

“Of course you didn’t,” Summer agreed.

“I mean, no,
really,
” Diana insisted, as if Summer had argued. “No way did I want this to happen. I was mad, sure. I did try to get him to…to deal with what he’d done. I mean, I’m sorry. I even said I was sorry that his father got dragged into it and that it had to become this whole scandal, with TV and everything.”

“Diana, listen to me,” Summer said. “This is
not
your fault.”

Why did Summer keep saying that? Diana wondered angrily. Of course it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t kill Ross, for heaven’s sake. She had just been trying to get him to admit…to deal…to…

“I wanted to hurt him,” Diana whispered.

Summer said nothing. Behind her, Diana could feel Marquez and Diver watching her silently.

“I wanted revenge,” Diana said softly. “I wanted him to suffer. I wanted them all to suffer. That’s what I wanted. I…I guess…” She couldn’t talk anymore. Her throat had closed up, and her stomach felt as if it might heave at any moment.

“Got to go,” she said through gritted teeth. She slithered and scraped her way down to the walkway and ran blindly toward the house.

“I have to go after her,” Summer said.

“No, leave her alone,” Diver said.

“But she’s hurting, Diver,” Summer protested. “I know what she’s thinking, I know what she’s feeling.”

Diver smiled crookedly. “No, you don’t, Summer,” he said gently. “I do. Let her be alone.”

Anyway, Jennifer, those are all the exciting times here on beautiful Crab Claw Key. Diana has turned back into Diana—withdrawn and snippy and antisocial. I’ve tried to talk to her a couple of times over the last few days, but as usual, she isn’t easy to get close to. Diver just says to leave her alone. For some reason he’s now the expert on Diana. The cops have dropped the whole thing because no one really sees any point in investigating. The senator says he’s going to resign. I guess you saw that on TV. He looked sad.

Marquez and J.T. are back together, which means they’re always either having these screaming fights or else they’re making out.

The four of us, me and Seth and J.T. and Marquez, went out as a group the other night. It was kind of cool, because obviously I love Seth, and I really like hanging out with Marquez, and J.T. and I have this relationship…I don’t know, it’s kind of hard to define, really. I guess it’s a little like brother and sister. He teases me and I tease him back, but we also feel kind of close. Maybe I’m starting to get adjusted to the fact that he really might be related to me. I guess now I kind of hope he is, because despite the fact that he’s temperamental and can get into these really deep low points, he’s mostly funny and sweet.

Maybe you’ll get to meet him. You know, if. And if, and if, and if. And if! My entire life is one big if. I wish I could be sure of just one thing. Is J.T. Jonathan? Are Seth and I going to stay together? What about the fact that I can practically see the end of summer coming?

Fortunately Sean Valletti has been off on his uncle’s boat. They went up to Miami for some stupid reason, and I think by the time he gets back he will have totally forgotten I even exist.

I know, that
does
sound strange, doesn’t it? It used to be I thought it would be the greatest thing in the world if Sean even noticed me. Now I hope he gets over me.

But you
know
how I drive all the men wild with desire.

I really hope Seth never finds out. It was just this stupid flirtation because I used to have a crush on Sean. Really immature of me, I know.

Anyway, tomorrow is the Bacchanal, the big street party. Marquez totally
lives
for this thing. I got the night off, so I’m going. Seth, naturally, hates the whole thing. Seth isn’t exactly Mr. Wild-Dance-in-the-Streets, but he says he’ll meet me there, for part of the time at least.

I wish you could be there, Jen. I miss you. Things get so weird around here sometimes. It would be nice to have someone around who knows me the way I really am. For some reason I’ve been thinking a lot about home lately. I’m not exactly homesick, but it’s as if this vacation has gotten bigger and more important than I ever thought it would be. It was supposed to just be…like punctuation. A period at the end of the sentence. Then on to the next sentence.

But somehow it has changed everything. What if J.T. really
is
Jonathan? My life back home won’t be my old life back home anymore. And then there’s Seth. Like I said, it’s all ifs.

I would really like at least one thing to be for sure. It’s eating at me, grinding my nerves, wearing me down. I wish J.T. would just
do
something to get an answer. Anything. And as for Seth and me…

When I left home to come here I was this person who’d never had a serious boyfriend. I’d had crushes on guys—duh, Sean Valletti for one—but actually being in love is a whole new level. A crush…well, there’s no pain in a crush. But if you really love someone, there’s always the possibility of getting hurt, this feeling like you have no defenses.

I’m scared of summer ending, Jen. Every time I kiss Seth, every time he kisses me, every time I even just look at him, I get this little jab, this little voice saying, “It won’t last, Summer. It’s almost over.” I feel as if I’ve gotten so much older in just the short time I’ve been here. My dad used to lecture me to think about consequences, right? “Actions have consequences, young lady.” Well, I guess Daddy would be happy now, because all I think about is consequences. All I think about is, how many more times will I be with Seth? How many more times will he kiss me before the last time?

Somehow this is all Marquez’s fault. I haven’t figured out how or why, but I have to blame someone.

Or else it’s the fault of that tarot card lady. She told me I would meet three guys. Why didn’t she tell me I wouldn’t get to keep even one?

Summer walked to work. It wasn’t as dramatic as going by Jet Ski, but this way she arrived dry and with her uniform unwrinkled. And now that the TV truck had disappeared from Diana’s driveway, there was no reason not to walk. Aside from the fact that at ten a.m. it was already blisteringly hot.

Heat waves shimmered up from the pavement. The sun aimed a laser beam right at her head, completely unobstructed by any cloud. Even for Florida in midsummer it was hot. Back in Minnesota, people baked cookies in ovens that weren’t this hot.

The sight of Seth’s battered, sagging pickup truck, rattling and shimmying down the road, was welcome. He stopped and leaned out of the window.

“So. Looking for a ride, young lady?”

“No, I like to be at least medium rare by the time I get to work,” Summer said. She walked around the truck and climbed in.

“Mmm,” Seth said, leering outrageously. “I like a woman in uniform.”

“Seth, I am really hot and sweaty,” Summer said.

Just the same he leaned across and kissed her. And just the same she let him. Again. And again. And despite the heat they were soon completely lost to the normal world.

“I have to get to work,” Summer gasped.

“Me too,” Seth said. “I have to meet my grandfather on the job site.”

“Marquez will cover for me if I’m a little late,” Summer said.

“My grandfather’s always late,” Seth said.

They kissed again. Summer slipped her hand under his shirt, enjoying the warm, taut feel of his stomach and chest, the smooth skin, the way she could feel his heart beat. It was one of her favorite things, touching him that way. It had replaced Oreos on her list of favorite things.

A horn blared loudly and continuously.

They separated. Summer looked out of the back window. Diana in her little Jetta.

Diana pulled around to Summer’s side and rolled down her window. “You do know this is a road, right?” Diana asked. “Like people might want to drive on it?”

“Sorry,” Seth said. “We were stalled. Couldn’t get into third gear.”

Diana rolled her eyes and drove away. Seth started down the road after her.

“Third gear, huh?” Summer said.

“That’s not to say I wasn’t enjoying second gear an awful lot,” he said.

They arrived quickly at the restaurant. Summer straightened her uniform and checked her hair in the mirror. “Now my lips are swollen.”

“You look perfect,” Seth said.

“I look like a girl who’s been making out in an un-air-conditioned truck.”

“I love you,” he said. He said it at least once a day, but suddenly it made Summer angry.

“Do you?” she asked bitterly. “For how much longer?”

Seth looked at her warily. He seemed unsure whether this sudden mood change was serious or some kind of unfathomable joke. “Look, Seth, I love you, too,” Summer said miserably, her anger already evaporated. “But it’s like I’m living in fear. I know that sounds dramatic and all, but I can’t help this feeling. It’s…dread. That’s the word. Between J.T. and you, I don’t feel sure of anything anymore.”

He put his arm around her, and for a moment she enjoyed his embrace, but then she pushed him away. “See? That’s it, right there, the way I feel. Like I love it every time you touch me, and right behind that comes this fear, and I think no, push him away, keep him away, because the closer he gets the more it will hurt later.”

“Look, Summer, somehow we’re going to work everything out,” Seth said.

“Really?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“How?”

He stared at her, and then looked down at the floor.

Summer sighed. “I have to get to work,” she said heavily.

“Summer, I love you,” he said again, “and the end of summer vacation won’t change that.”

“I love you, too,” she said, touching his cheek. “But I have to go.”

“Look, um, this is probably not the time to mention this, but I may not make it to the Bacch.” He seemed to flinch in anticipation. “My grandfather has this rush job, and we may end up working late tomorrow night.”

“Oh,” Summer said. She bit her lip. Then she smiled crookedly. “Kind of a preview of the end of summer, huh?”

He looked miserable. “We’re still on for diving this afternoon, right?”

She wanted to say no, just to give him a taste of his own medicine. But she could not deliberately push him away. At least not yet. “Yes, of course,” she said. “Gotta go.”

She climbed out of the truck, went around to the back door of the restaurant, and ran smack into Marquez and J.T. They were making out, leaning against the whitewashed back wall of the restaurant.

“I can’t believe you two,” Summer said with mock disgust. “Making out in this heat?” She was doing her best to shake off the tears of frustration that threatened to fill her eyes.

“Oh, Summer,” J.T. said, seeming flustered. A meaningful look went between him and Marquez.

“J.T. wants to ask you something,” Marquez said.

He smiled ruefully. “Yeah, I kind of do,” he said.

“So?” Summer said.

“Look,” J.T. began, “it’s this whole thing. I realized that it’s just kind of eating away at me. Not knowing.”

“Yeah, not knowing does kind of chew on your nerves,” Summer agreed, way too strongly. Should she tell him about her call to the hospital in Minnesota? No. They hadn’t promised to send her the footprint, and even if they did, would it really prove anything?

“Anyway, what I was thinking was, maybe I should just ask my parents outright, you know?” J.T. said.

Summer nodded. She felt a wave of relief. Yes, he should just ask his parents. That was the answer. Then at least she’d have one answer. “If you feel you can do that, J.T., I think it would be a good idea.

“Now you’re getting to the fun part,” Marquez warned under her breath.

“I can’t just blurt it out,” J.T. said. “I mean, you can see that, right? It’s like accusing them of…I don’t even know. If I’m Jonathan, then they could be kidnappers or something.” He shook his head in bewilderment. “It sounds insane even to say it.”

“Yeah, so J.T.’s concept of a sane way to handle it is for all of us to go over to his house together,” Marquez explained, “and we’ll do a little barbecue—”

“I’ll cook and everything,” J.T. said.

“—and we’ll tell them the story about Jonathan,” Marquez said, watching Summer for a reaction. “And see if they totally lose it.”

“Oh,” Summer said. She took several deep breaths. She liked the idea of J.T. finding out. The idea that she had to be involved too…she liked that idea a lot less.

“Like Hamlet,” J.T. offered helpfully. “You know, where he tricks his stepfather by reenacting the—”

“No,” Summer interrupted. “You two are crazy.”

“It could be a little intense,” Marquez said.

But J.T. wasn’t laughing. “Summer, I have to know. Sooner or later.”

“I understand,” she said.

“I tried to convince him later was a better way to go,” Marquez interjected.

“And you would go along with this?” Summer asked Marquez. “You? What happened to avoiding other people’s potentially horrible personal messes?”

“I’m still hoping to break a leg before then,” Marquez said. “I don’t even like barbecue.”

“Will you do it?” J.T. asked Summer, pleading with his eyes.

“Well, you may be my brother,” Summer said, trying to make a joke of it. “So I guess I have to. But even if you weren’t, you’d still be my friend. I guess the answer is yes. When?”

“Tomorrow. Right before the Bacchanal gets going. A little backyard barbecue,” J.T. said.

“Barbecue and intense family psychodrama,” Marquez said. “Please, someone kill me before then.”

Several hours later, Summer was underwater. The last time she had gone scuba diving with Seth, things hadn’t worked out so well. But they had made a solemn vow since then to leave cave diving off the agenda.

They glided over the coral, careful not to break any of the fragile protrusions. The sun was still high in the sky at four in the afternoon, and it sent down rays that were like individual searchlights, each seemingly adjusted to highlight a particularly beautiful bit of coral or brighten a passing fish. Summer passed her hand through a beam, actually feeling the warmth of it though they were twenty feet down. She exhaled and watched the turmoil of bubbles roil up through the light, diamonds floating toward the surface.

It was an incredible place, as alien as anything could be while still being part of planet earth. A hundred species of fish darted by, alone or in schools, some on urgent errands, some just floating along, droopy-lipped and sad-eyed like the grouper that seemed to be watching them. Maybe he was bummed that Summer had eaten one of his relatives with Sean.

The coral was mostly white, but with fantastic extrusions in pink and blue. It served as home to crabs and snails and eels and things whose names she didn’t know. Unfortunately, it was also home to more divers than Summer could keep track of—some with tanks, some snorkeling, dropping down for as long as their air lasted, then kicking hard for the surface.

Oh, well, their last dive had been private. Far too private. She would try not to resent the fact that the reef was as crowded as a supermarket at rush hour.

Seth tapped her shoulder and pointed up. They began their slow ascent, never rising faster than the tiniest of their bubbles.

They broke the surface. It was always a sort of mystical experience for Summer as she passed through the barrier between one world and another. She pulled off her face mask.

“Hey, what are all those great big fish that look exactly like us?” she asked Seth.

“It is kind of crowded down there, isn’t it?” he said.

“But totally beautiful,” Summer said. “Thanks for bringing me.”

They swam to their small motorboat and climbed in heavily. Summer lay sideways on the bottom of the boat, exhausted. Seth slithered in beside her. They both laughed.

“I’m much, much heavier up here in the air,” Summer said. She shrugged out of her tank, grateful for the freedom of movement. “I have regulator lips,” she said, laughing some more. Her lips often felt a little numb and rubbery after being wrapped for an hour around the regulator mouthpiece.

“I can fix that,” Seth said. He kissed her. His lips were as cold as hers.

After a while they separated and lay side by side, Seth’s chest cushioning Summer’s head. The sun had slipped toward the horizon, but although it was low enough not to be in their eyes, the sky was still a bright blue, with only a solitary cotton puff of cloud.

“Now I’m hot again,” Summer said.

“You’re always hot,” Seth said.

“Oh, don’t you sound like—” She stopped herself just in time. She had been about to say Sean Valletti.

“Sound like who?” he asked.

“Um, like this guy on TV whose name I can’t remember,” she temporized. Another opportunity to tell Seth about Sean. Another chance to confess her relatively minor sin. But she said nothing. And Seth—trusting Seth—let it go.

“This is nice, huh?” he said. He stroked her hair, which was already drying in the blow-dryer-hot breeze.

“This is perfect,” she agreed. And it was—the boat rocking gently on the water, the cries of gulls, the sight of a pelican, that prehistoric relic, swooping majestically overhead. “The sky is never this blue back home.”

“No. I guess it has to do with how far south you are. It’s a paler blue up there.”

“And cold,” she said.

“Definitely colder,” he said.

“I don’t want this to end,” Summer said. “This summer, I mean. Marquez, Diana, Diver, J.T…you. It’s like the sky. Like everything in my old life will be paler and colder than here. There’s no one like Marquez in Bloomington.”

“There’s no one like Marquez anywhere,” Seth said, chuckling.

Summer was annoyed. Obviously she was trying to bring up the subject of her and Seth, not Marquez. “I just don’t want it to end,” she repeated.

He shrugged. “Everything ends eventually. I guess that’s what makes summer so intense, this feeling that it lasts for only a short while and then it’s back to reality.”

“So you’re saying things that are cool for summer vacation wouldn’t be so good the rest of the time?”

“Maybe so,” he said.

Summer sat up abruptly, breaking the physical contact.

“What’s the matter?” Seth asked.

“Nothing,” Summer said sullenly. “We should get back.”

Seth looked mystified, but he started the outboard engine and aimed the boat back toward Crab Claw Key. It was a thirty-minute trip, and the first half of it passed in silence.

“Hey, is this about the end of summer again?” Seth asked, sounding as if it were a crazy question.

“I’ll take ‘Doctor Duh’ for two hundred dollars, please,” Summer said sarcastically.

“I thought we already talked about it this morning,” Seth pointed out.

“Yes, but we didn’t decide anything.”

“Summer, what can we decide? You know how I feel about you. What can I say?”