Beachcombers (7 page)

10

Marina

A
ll morning long, rain fell in shining, stinging needles. Marina whistled to herself as she buzzed around cleaning her little nest. She emailed Christie, played a few games of computer solitaire, then made a fresh cup of coffee and curled up with a book she'd bought at the airport, reminding herself what a luxury it was to lie around reading on a rainy day. But the book didn't hold her attention.

Her mind sidetracked back to its endless loop of self-pity and memories, replaying the moment in the kitchen with Gerry and Dara. Dara's contrite, triumphant announcement that she was pregnant with Gerry's baby.

Replaying the moment she walked into their ad agency to clean out her office, down the corridor past the receptionist and the desks of copywriters and all of them beaming at her with such
charitable
smiles.

Replaying the pain, and the hopelessness, and the crushing sense of defeat.

"Okay, that's enough!" She tossed her book on the coffee table and began to pace around the little cottage. She wiped down the already clean kitchen counter, adjusted the candlesticks on the little wooden table, and now she craved something to
do.
It was not her style to sit alone in a room with a book and the rain clicking away on the roof like someone nervously tapping her fingers.

She would go out for lunch, and to the library for a new book.

She pulled on white jeans and a pink shirt and slid her feet into espadrilles. She took her time putting on just a touch of makeup and selecting earrings, because why shouldn't she take her time? She had all the time in the world. Time was all she had.

She belted on her khaki trench coat and stepped out into the rain.
Umbrella
, she thought. She'd packed so few things when she flew out here. Her first stop would be at Nantucket Pharmacy to buy an umbrella. The wind batted at her, whipping rain in her face. She walked down the drive, taking care to avoid the deepest puddles.

Just as she reached the street, a red pickup truck turned into the drive with Jim Fox at the wheel.

He slid his window down. "Where are you off to?"

"Oh, just into town. I have to buy an umbrella."

He laughed at that. "If you stayed home, you wouldn't need an umbrella."

"If I stayed home, I'd go stir crazy." Quickly, she continued, "Not that it isn't a nice little cottage."

"Little being the crucial word. Listen, let me take you out to lunch."

"Oh," she said, surprised, and her vision did a kind of wriggle, so that the man in the pickup truck suddenly came in clearer. He was handsome, and he was definitely hitting on her. She was astonished to feel something deep inside her raise its little hopeful head, like a flower sensing rain. "Well. Okay!" She opened the passenger door and stepped up inside.

"I'm going out to the Downy Flake," he told her as they headed along the street.

"When I used to come to the island, the Downy Flake was in town," she said.

"Right. They moved more than fifteen years ago. Good thing, actually. In the summer, all the restaurants right in town get plenty of foot traffic from tourists, but the places out of town still have room for us locals." He glanced over at her. "So you used to come here?"

"For three summers, with my friend Christie. To work--and play." She idly reminisced as Jim drove along the narrow lanes. When other cars inched out of side streets, he braked and waved them ahead.

"No one would do that in the city," she told him.

"What, let someone go ahead? Not everybody does that here. People from the city bring their hurry with them." As he spoke, a black Jag shot away from the curb, making Jim, who wasn't going fast to start with, slam on the brakes. "Like that fellow." He laughed. "Bringing a Jag to the island! He might as well have a bumper sticker saying, I need a flashy vehicle to compensate for my little"--he shot Marina a cautious glance--"um, balls."

Marina laughed. "My ex-husband drove a Jag."

"Really. Good thing he's your ex, then."

Surprised at his response and the complete absence of anything like pity in his voice, Marina said, "You know, I think you're right."

"So how's your summer going?" he asked.

"Oh, I'm just getting settled, really. I've been to the library, and I want to visit all the museums, all of the island. It's so different, perceiving it as an adult. I realize there are huge chunks of the island I've never seen, not to mention all the historical spots that I couldn't appreciate when I was younger." She glanced over at him. "How is
your
summer so far? I don't think I know what you do."

Jim blushed when she turned to him, and her own pulse quickened in return. What was going on? She thought he was probably ten years older than she was, and really not her type. Gerry was six-two, lean as a whippet, with sleek blond hair. Jim was tall and burly, with unruly brown hair. Plus, she'd gone off men in general. She didn't think she'd ever be able to stand being in bed with a man again in all her life.

Jim was talking. "I build houses. Summer's always busy for me, but this year things are slowing down, with the economy and all. I'm trying to take advantage of it, trying to enjoy the summer."

She laughed. "Isn't it funny, how we have to work to make ourselves have fun!"

"We're fortunate if we can carve out some fun for ourselves," Jim told her. "I mean, people are struggling now. My crew all have families to support. My three daughters are grown, so I don't have as much to worry about financially."

He'd left an opening as big as a conversational Grand Canyon. Marina cleared her throat. "I wasn't fortunate enough to have children. And I just got divorced. So I've only got myself to worry about." She didn't want to seem maudlin, so she continued, "I just sold my half of an ad agency, so I'm comfortable for a while. I want to sort out my next step. But first of all, I want to just
be
, and this is just about the most spectacular place on the earth to be in."

"I envy you, having the opportunity to see parts of the island for the first time. Have you ever been to the moors?"

"Never. I just noticed them on a map I was studying."

"You like maps? I've got some great Nantucket maps. Maps of the shoals and shipwrecks. Geological maps ..."

Actually, Marina thought, she didn't know whether she liked maps or not. She'd never considered them. But Jim's enthusiasm was contagious and she was a bit sorry when their arrival at the restaurant interrupted his train of thought.

As they entered the Downy Flake, all the waitstaff and most of the customers nodded or waved a greeting to Jim. They were given a table and were quickly brought their lunch: cheeseburgers and salty fries. Their attempts at conversation were sketchy because so many people stopped by to chat. Jim introduced her to everyone. "This is Marina Warren. She's from Kansas City. She's renting our cottage for the summer and she wants to learn all about the island." By the time she'd finished her lunch, Marina had been invited to two churches with coffee hours after the service, and one woman suggested she help them sort books for the local library book sale.

She wasn't surprised at Jim's popularity. He had a confidence about him, and a kind of contentment in his voice, a deep resonance that seemed to spring from a profound comfort with himself. And he
was
handsome, with his tanned skin and curly brown hair and large hazel eyes. He had told her when he first showed her the cottage that he was widowed. She wondered whether he had a girlfriend, and what she would think of him taking Marina out for lunch. Probably, given Jim's gregariousness, it was not unusual at all.

As they got back into the truck, the rain diminished and suddenly the clouds parted and the sun shone down.

"Do you still want to go into town and get an umbrella?" Jim asked her.

"Absolutely," Marina told him. "I remember how much it rains on this island."

She settled back in the seat, rolled down the window, and took a deep breath of the clean rinsed air. "I hope you don't mind my asking this, but could I have your permission to paint the walls of the cottage?"

"Well, of course, but you shouldn't have to do that. I know those walls need some brightening. I can do it or have my crew come over while you're out."

"Oh, I wouldn't mind at all. In fact, I'd enjoy the painting. I like painting walls, seeing the new color rise, and I like the actual work. It's kind of like a Zen activity."

He laughed. "If you really want to, then please do. But let me reimburse you for the cost of the paint."

"It's a deal," she told him.

"Have you ever been out on the west part of the island?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. Mostly we went to Cisco or Dionis, to the beach."

Jim pulled into a parking spot on Main Street. "Here you are. I've got to go back to work."

"Well, thanks so much for lunch!" She turned to face him, and something
zinged
between them. Startled, she blurted out, "The food was delicious and I loved meeting all your friends and maybe I will volunteer in the library. I hadn't really thought of volunteering, but maybe I will--" She shut her eyes tight, took a deep breath, and opened them. "I'm babbling."

"And you do it very well," Jim told her with a grin. "I'm going over to Tuckernuck someday soon. Want to go? We could have a little picnic."

"Oh. Do you have a boat?"

"I do. A little runabout out in the Madaket Harbor. Nothing elegant. Smells like fish, probably."

"I'd love to go out with you," Marina told him.

"Then we'll do it," he promised. "Soon."

She stepped down from the truck and waved good-bye and set off walking down the sidewalk, and all the while she just couldn't stop smiling.

11

Abbie

S
ee what I mean?" Lily and Abbie were peering out the window.

Abbie let the curtain fall. "She doesn't have a car. Dad probably agreed to drive her somewhere."

"It's lunchtime. I think they're going on a date."

"So what if they are, Lily? Dad's allowed to date." Abbie padded barefoot down the hall to the kitchen. She'd slept late, and she was starving. Opening the refrigerator, she scanned the contents. "No bacon? No eggs?"

"Dad has to watch his cholesterol," Lily informed her. "And I need to watch my weight. We're a bran and granola family now."

"Ugh." Abbie opened the cupboard and took down a bowl and a mug. "Where's Emma? Did she go out?"

"Did she go
out
? Are you kidding? You saw her yesterday. She's been
flattened.
She hasn't gone out since she got here." Lily eyed her sister assessingly. "I was right to get you back here, wasn't I?"

"Oh, I don't know, Lily!" Abbie sounded irritable. She bumped the silverware drawer shut with her hip. "Don't you guys drink coffee?"

"Dad does. He keeps it in the freezer door. Don't ask me why. Listen, I have to bike over to the magazine for a staff meeting. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Wait a minute, Lily." Abbie leveled a serious look at her sister. "Don't think I'm going to
fix
Emma right away or even at all. She's going through a really tough time, that's for sure. But she's an adult. I can't kiss her owie and make everything okay."

"But you can keep an eye on her, right?"

"I can't spy on her twenty-four hours a day."

Tears welled in Lily's eyes. "I don't want Emma to be so sad."

Abbie put the bowl down and crossed the room. She took her baby sister in her arms. "I don't want her to be so sad, either, honey. But sometimes life is just plain hard."

"But Emma will be okay, won't she?"

"Of course she will." Abbie kissed her sister's forehead and gave her a little shake. "Get to work. I'll make some coffee and take a cup up to Emma."

Abbie tapped on Emma's bedroom door. No one answered, so she pushed it open and went in.

When they were girls, their mother had decorated each room with painstaking detail. Abbie's was yellow, Emma's lavender, and Lily's peppermint pink. One wall of Emma's room was lined with shelves populated by dolls of all shapes and sizes. Abbie and Lily had both altered their rooms as they grew older, Abbie slapping up posters of other countries, Lily thumbtacking pictures of rock stars and actors. But Emma had never packed her dolls away.

Emma was in bed, and Abbie knew she was awake, because Emma slept like a starfish, all limbs spread out, and now she was on her side, facing the wall, her covers pulled up to her ears.

"I know you're awake. Here's some coffee." She put Emma's mug on the bedside table and sat down with her own at the end of the bed, leaning against the bedpost.

Emma didn't move.

Abbie said, "We saw Dad pick up that woman and drive off with her." She sipped her coffee. "I don't know why Lily's so freaked out. Well, she's obviously younger than Dad, and she's not from the island, but still. Why shouldn't Dad have a girlfriend?"

Without turning to face Abbie, Emma muttered, "Lily's afraid she'll take Dad away from us."

"Well, that's silly. We're all grown up. We should be starting our own families. Plus, you and I haven't even been living on the island."

"But Lily has. Lily came right back the minute she graduated from college."

"She says she wants to meet the right people and get a job in New York."

"Yeah, she says that, but can you see Lily in New York? She--" Emma's mumbled words disappeared beneath the covers.

Abbie nudged Emma's bum with her foot. "Turn over. Sit up. I can't even hear you."

Emma didn't move. Abbie dug her foot into Emma's back.

"Stop it!" Emma yelled.

Abbie didn't stop.

"God, you're irritating!" Emma turned over and sat up.

"Now drink your coffee," Abbie ordered.

"I don't want it."

"Drink it anyway."

"No, Abbie, I mean it. I can't drink coffee. Anything with caffeine makes me kind of freaky. Like I want to run down the hall and jump out the window."

"Oh, Emma."

Emma shrugged. "So I'm better without coffee. This way I just want to lie here and die."

"I hate when you talk like that."

"Then don't talk to me. Go away."

Abbie studied her sister, trying to evaluate her health. Emma was thinner than she'd ever been, and everything about her was dull: skin, eyes, hair. "You look like Iceland in January."

Emma snorted. "That's way too optimistic an image."

"Really."

"I feel like a piece of shark shit on the bottom of the ocean. I've been chewed up and shat out. I've got nothing left."

"Oh, Emma, that's terrible." Abbie leaned forward to stroke her sister's arm. "Honey, it will get better. Remember how it was after Mom died? And it got better."

"Not for Mom."

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe for Mom."

"It was better for Mom to be away from her three daughters, to be dead in the ground?"

"We've talked about this, Emma. We don't know what's on the other side. Mom might be happy where she is, and watching us."

"Oh, bullshit."

Abbie didn't want to talk about their mother anymore. She could go into as deep a dark place as her sisters if she allowed herself. At least she'd prodded Emma from apathy to anger. She changed the subject. "I've got to get a job. After what Dad said last night, I want to contribute some money."

"How long are you staying?" Emma asked.

"I'm not sure. I might as well stay the summer. It's the time to make money on the island." Abbie rose, set her mug on the table, and ranged around Emma's room. Emma's suitcases were still on the floor, unpacked clothing spilling out. Idly, she picked up a camisole and wrapped one of the dolls in it. "I'm not particularly qualified for anything. I don't want to wait tables or tend bar, I did plenty of that when I was younger." She put the doll back, picked up a shirt flung over a chair, and hung it in the closet. "What do you think you'll do?"

Emma had scooted back down in bed. "I think I'll go to sleep."

"No, silly, I mean, what kind of
work
do you want to do?"

"Don't want to work. Don't want to move." Emma turned on her side, facing the wall. "Go away."

"Eventually, Emma, you're going to have to eat," Abbie reminded her sister. She grabbed her sister's feet. "I know what. I'll take you out to lunch." It was difficult with the sheet and blanket over Emma's feet, but Abbie managed to tickle them.

All at once Emma jerked away and shot up in bed like a whale breaching. "Stop it! Just fucking
stop it
! How can you not get it that I want to be left alone?
You
can float along on the surface of the world but
I
can't be like you. I've done my best, I tried my hardest, and I've
failed
! It's over for me, Abbie. Everything I've ever wanted is gone and there's no hope in hell of ever getting it back!"

"Emma, you are only twenty-eight years old," Abbie said softly.

But Emma was in a rage. "Yes, and my life is
over!
I have worked as hard as I could, I've struggled, I've tried to be smart, I've done everything the best I could, and it's all turned to shit! And if this is what fate or destiny or God or whatever wants to do with me, then what the hell can I do about that? Some people are lucky, some people aren't. I'm unlucky. How more clear can that be to me?"

Emma was so upset she was crying and spitting as her words flew into the air. "Emma, Emma," Abbie cooed, "calm down, honey."

Emma buried her face in her hands. "I hurt, Abbie. All I do is hurt. I can't stop hurting. I hurt with every breath I take. I don't want to breathe. I don't want to live."

Abbie tried to wrap her arms around her sister, but Emma pulled away. "Emma--"

"I'm not going to kill myself. I wouldn't do that to you and Dad and Lily. But I have to tell you, Abbie, I don't see any reason for me to live. Or any way."

"I think you should see a doctor, Emma."

"No."

"Well, Emma--" Abbie didn't know what to say. "You don't want Dad to see you like this."

Emma sniffed and gulped and wiped her face. "I know. Just leave me alone for a while, Abbie."

"Will you come down for dinner tonight?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Promise me. Promise you'll come down for dinner."

"All right," Emma conceded. "I promise."

Abbie shivered as she left Emma's room. She felt unsettled, anxious, as if she'd left the stove on and couldn't get back to the house. She needed to
do
something. She stomped down the stairs and grabbed up the car keys and headed off to the grocery store. They could always use groceries.

At Stop&Shop, she filled her cart, then joined the long line snaking from the cashiers. In front of her, two summer women were moaning about how they couldn't find help. One needed someone who knew computers for a data entry job, and the other needed a companion for her cranky old mother-in-law who was developing macular degeneration.

As Abbie listened, an idea bloomed in her head. The more she thought about it, the better she liked the idea, and by the time she was through the checkout counter and loading the car with groceries, she was talking out loud to herself.

At home, she quickly stashed anything that needed refrigeration, and let the rest wait while she grabbed up a pad of paper and pen. Then she thundered up the stairs and into Emma's room.

"I've got the best idea!"

Emma moaned and pulled her pillow over her head.

Undaunted, Abbie sat on the side of Emma's bed. "I was at the grocery store, and I heard two women talking about how they need summer help, and I thought, we could do that stuff, and we can get fab references from tons of people on the island. We can do anything, but we don't want to lock ourselves into a nine-to-five grind, at least I don't, so listen to this!" She cleared her throat, then read:

"'Do you need an educated, responsible young woman for a temporary job? A babysitter in two hours for seven children ages two months to sixteen years? Someone classy to take Grandmother to church or theater? An instant secretary who can fax, email, type or text? Nantucket Mermaids has it all. Excellent references. Discretion guaranteed.' What do you think?"

Emma didn't say a word.

"Great! I knew you'd love it! Mermaids--mer
maids
, get it? Okay, I'm off to the newspaper now to get the ad in for this week's issue. See you!"

Abbie rushed out of the room without shutting the door behind her. At least that would make Emma get out of bed, even if only to shut the door.