Moon Shell Beach: A Novel (15 page)

TWENTY-TWO

A
s Clare and the dog cut through the sand dunes along the path to the beach, the sun was rising. On this calm June morning she could feel the night’s chill vanish like popped bubbles as the sun warmed the air. The water rolled sleepily toward the shore, its lacework waves whispering “sea.”

Clare sank down on the sand to enjoy the sky unfolding its colors, from dove gray to fire opal to a profound shining endless azure, the lavish, spendthrift blue of summer. She pulled her sweatshirt off over her head. No one else was around. Ralph was down at the water’s edge, frightening the waves.

Carelessly, she palmed a handful of sand, enjoying the tickle as it trickled through her fingers until she was left holding only a small moon shell. This clever spiral calcium structure had once been home to a simple, rather unattractive creature, a gelatinous creeping mass. Who could explain why the whorls and stripes were so intricately, carefully, and exquisitely marked?

She and Lexi had named “their” beach “Moon Shell Beach” because of the abundance of moon shells on the sand, but Jetties Beach had many more moon shells, and “their” beach had many other kinds of shells—periwinkles, scallops, razor clams, mussels. She supposed it was the romance of the word
moon
that entranced them. Back then, everything romantic, enchanted, and dreamy had seemed to be located far away, on another sphere completely from their common, infuriating homes.

How fascinating that Lexi had traveled so far and chosen to return to the island. Somehow it made Clare feel just a bit better about her own decision to live here. She’d lived off-island during college and visited friends on the West Coast, but she’d never seriously considered living anywhere else. She loved Nantucket. She wasn’t crazy about living with her father in the house she’d grown up in, but rentals on the island were insanely expensive; she couldn’t have opened her shop if she hadn’t lived at home. And since her mother’s death, she’d been glad, for her father’s sake, that she still lived at home. She could only imagine what a wreck he and the house would have been without her.

In the distance, a dog barked. Instantly, Ralph took off running down the beach toward the approaching figures. Adam, Lucky, and Bella. She rose and walked toward them. She was beginning to count on these casual morning meetings. Somehow they made her more optimistic about the future.

But why, she wondered, did such a thought even occur? Did she need assistance being optimistic? She stamped on the vacant shell of a spider crab, pleased with the crunching noise. Adam strolled toward her, his family of dogs playing around his legs, and Clare thought how grown-up he seemed, so reliably connected to the world. In contrast, Jesse was about as stable as a windsurfer. His lightheartedness had always been one of Jesse’s charms, but sometimes Clare thought that asking Jesse to settle down and be part of a family was like cutting a bird’s wings. The creature would be alive, but the mysterious, essential self would be lost forever.

That was the romantic way to look at the problem. A more realistic way, and one that she hated, was how often Clare felt as if she was more Jesse’s mother than his beloved.

When she first fell in love with Jesse, back in high school, she’d been crazy for his good looks, but more than that, she’d been fascinated by his playful recklessness. It had appealed to her secret love of outlaws and rebels. Not that Jesse had ever been outright rebellious. He’d never been serious enough about any idea or cause to fight for it. He hadn’t cut classes or battled with his teachers or coaches or other guys. He just loped along through his days, having a good time, too relaxed and happy to remember to do his homework or study for a test. His grades had been abysmal. Obviously a smart kid, he could make the teachers smile even as he gave the wrong answer, and scraped through high school on his good nature. Which had been fine. He hadn’t wanted to go to college. For a while he was almost serious about getting together a bluegrass band, but even for that he couldn’t find the discipline to make himself show up at every practice.

Now they were both adults, engaged to be married, ready to start a family, and Clare could sense a kind of tension in Jesse, an anxiety. In the past few weeks, he’d been more restless and ill-tempered than she could remember him ever being. One evening they’d had dinner at Penny and Mike’s, and Jesse had been as twitchy as if he’d just come down with a bad case of poison ivy. He’d held Little Mikey and said all the right things about what a cute baby he was, but Clare noticed how quickly Jesse handed the infant back to his mother. He didn’t share a look with Clare; he didn’t say, “We should get one of these.” She’d been hoping he would say that—how could anyone hold little Mikey and not want a baby?—but not then, or later as they drove home, did Jesse initiate the subject of a family.

That didn’t mean Jesse didn’t want a family. And Jesse loved her. She knew that. She just had to go ahead into the future she wanted, and sort of seduce—or drag—Jesse along with her.

And sometimes that seemed like a lot of work.

“Everyone is eccentric,” her mother had advised her once, when Clare was feeling especially hopeless about Jesse. “Look at your father and me. We’re hardly normal, and yet we muddle along.”

Clare’s mother had adored Jesse. He had always been able to make Ellen laugh. He often flirted with her openly and honestly, even occasionally causing her to blush. She had told Clare over and over again,
Jesse’s a good man. Just give him time.

She had given him time. She was still giving him time. But recently she was frustrated, thinking, why did she have to be the one to give him anything? Why did she have to be the one waiting patiently at home with milk and cookies for the errant wild child to return, abashed, even if charmingly abashed? So many times, especially after one of his episodes of straying, Jesse had told her, as they made love, that Clare brought out the best in him, that she made him “work,” that without her he was lost. She’d grown accustomed to the idea of being not just the woman who waited at home for him, but being his home itself.

And just how would that work when they had a family? It seemed to Clare that the most magical thing on the planet was what everyone else called an ordinary family, and that was what she wanted. She wanted a chaotic kitchen with children covered with flour as they made birthday cookies, and a big fat SUV full of baby seats, violin cases, and hockey sticks. She wanted to attend baseball games and swim meets, but first she wanted—oh, how she wanted!—to sing lullabies.

“Good morning!” Adam held up two thick paper cups. “Lattes from Fast Forward!”

“My hero!” Clare laughed. She accepted one, lifted the lid, and took a long sip of the sweet, hot, powerful beverage. “Wow. That’s the way to start the day.”

They walked slowly down the beach, the three dogs chasing one another into the sand dunes and back down to the water’s edge.

“How’s business?” Adam asked companionably.

“Good. Really good. Not so many drop-ins—that will come in July and August—but lots of special orders. I’ve got Marlene on full-time now and two part-time girls, and this is the only time of the day I’m not moving as fast as I can.” She looked up at Adam. “You must be busy.”

“We are. Summer residents are arriving with their pets, and tourists on mopeds are bringing in injured ‘bunnies’ they’ve found on the side of the road, and we have to educate them about contagious diseases from rabbits. We’ve got a new vet to help us out over the busy season.”

“Oh? Where’s he from?”

“She. Miranda’s from Georgia. She’s just out of school, and she’s got a delightful southern accent that charms all the patients and their owners.” He chuckled.

Does she charm all the
vets,
too? Clare wondered, surprised as an unexpected blaze of jealousy shot through her. “Miranda,” she said. “Pretty name.”

Adam nodded. “Pretty woman.”

Clare spotted another crab shell and stamped on it with extra force. “I like to hear them crunch,” she explained to Adam. “It’s like eating popcorn.”

He laughed. “Popcorn. My summer sustenance.”

Clare glanced up at him quizzically.

Adam explained, “Now that the town’s so crowded, I forget to buy groceries, and when I do remember to buy them, I’m standing in front of an empty refrigerator, too exhausted to consider making a trip to the grocery store. Plus, the thought of sitting in traffic after working all day makes me so tired I end up making do with a bag of microwave popcorn and a couple of beers.”

“I know what you mean,” Clare agreed. “Although I bought a Crock-Pot last summer, and that’s been helpful. I just fill it up and turn it on in the morning and dinner’s ready whenever I get home at night.”

“Good idea. Does your dad do the grocery shopping?”

Clare snorted. “I wish. No, he’s not reliable. Even when I give him a list, he forgets to take it, or forgets to get all the items.”

“Does Jesse shop?”

“Not usually. He’s living in the garage apartment at his parents’ house, so some nights he eats dinner over there. But I don’t mind shopping. I like to look over the food, especially the produce. I love this time of year, with fresh asparagus and new potatoes and fresh strawberries. You should come over sometime when I’ve been out to Moors End Farm. I make the best strawberry shortcake.”

Adam bent, picked up a piece of driftwood, and threw it into the ocean. His two dogs went scrambling, head over heels, into the surf. Lucky captured the stick and brought it back to Adam, wriggling with pride. Adam threw the stick again.

Clare moved up the beach and sat down with her back to a sand dune. Thank heavens for the animals, Clare thought. They were great buffers, providing time for her face to cool down—she was sure it was crimson. What had she just done? Invited Adam over to her house for dinner? Oh, that would be a congenial group, her father, her, Adam, and Jesse. Not that Jesse disliked Adam; he liked Adam just fine, although Adam was two years older and had always seemed a decade older than Jesse, if not from a different species. Or Adam could come over some night when Jesse played poker or ate at his parents’. Now there was a bright idea. It made Clare tingle all over with embarrassment and a warm, delicious feeling she didn’t dare investigate or even name.

Ralph rushed up to her, tongue hanging out, tail wagging, spraying sand on Clare’s legs as she settled on the sand to watch the other two animals brave the ocean.

“Good girl,” Clare told Ralph, petting her.

Adam threw the stick one more time, then walked up to the dune and joined Clare. His dogs began a fierce game of tug-of-war with the stick, stealing it from each other, accidentally bopping each other on the head with it, or tripping themselves.

“What a pair of clowns,” Adam said.

“Ralph’s afraid of the water,” Clare told him. “She’s fascinated by it, but too scared to go in.”

“Smart dog. The undertow here is pretty bad.” Adam squinted as he stared out to sea. “Look at it. Shining and calm. Makes you forget how dangerous it is.”

“I know. Every summer someone gets swept up and thrown down by the undertow—broken leg or arm. Remember the summer David Sutton broke his neck?”

“And now we’ve lost Tris,” Adam murmured.

“Well, we don’t know for certain about Tris…”

“It’s been three weeks. Bobbie wants to hold a memorial service. Tris wouldn’t be gone so long without letting someone know he was still alive. He wouldn’t do that to his daughter.” Adam’s voice broke. He looked away, blinking back tears.

Clare protested, “But Tris is an ace sailor.”

“And the sea is full of peril.” Adam crushed his cup in his hand. Abruptly, he rose, stalking over the sand to stand just at the water’s edge. Clare could tell he needed this moment alone.

Shouts sounded from down the shore. She turned and saw four teenage boys racing toward the waves, carrying surfboards. Adam watched them, too, for a while, then came back to stand by Clare.

“I haven’t surfed for years,” Clare remarked.

“I haven’t, either.” Adam kept his gaze on the boys. After a moment, casually, he said, “I’ve seen Jesse surfing.”

“Oh, yes. He windsurfs, too.”

“Without a life jacket.”

“I know, I know. I’m always nagging him about it. He’s hopeless. But he loves the water.”

“And being Jesse, he’ll probably be just fine. He’s kind of like the guy in the wrecked car who’s so drunk he doesn’t break a bone.”

Clare laughed. “Yeah, that’s Jesse, all right.” She quickly added, “Jesse’s not a drunk, Adam.”

“I know that, Clare. He’s just one of those guys who’s naturally stoned on life. I envy him. I wish I could be just a little more relaxed.”

“I think you’re
perfect
just the way you are, Adam,” Clare assured him, then immediately got flustered at her words and the heat with which she’d spoken.

Adam smiled when he said, “That’s because you don’t know me very well, Clare.” He looked down, meeting her eyes.

For a long moment, they held their gaze, their connection.

“Adam…”

“Time I headed to work.” He held out his hand. Clare took it, and he pulled her to her feet. Excited, Ralph bumped into her legs, and Adam kept hold of her hand as she steadied herself. Then he dropped her hand.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Clare said. “I’ll bring it tomorrow.”

“See you then.” Adam tossed the words over his shoulder as he ran down the beach, his dogs at heel.

Clare watched him go, bringing the hand he had held to her mouth. She smelled salt, and the sea, and sunshine.

TWENTY-THREE

L
exi and Clare were at Fifty-Six Union, leaning toward each other over a crisp white tablecloth. A spring storm slashed the windows with rain and blew cold wet gusts through the door when anyone entered or left. Inside was all warmth, delicious smells, murmurs of conversation.

“So Jesse’s done your work?” Clare asked.

Lexi made a face. “Most of it. But I’m not ready to open yet, even if Jesse has finished with the cubicles. I’ve got a lot of inventory to unpack and some hasn’t even arrived yet. As long as I’m open by the Fourth of July, I’ll be happy.”

“Yeah, the island doesn’t really start hopping until then.” Clare lowered her voice and leaned over her plate. “Lexi, I want to ask you something. You’ve seen Jesse a few times now. Tell me, what do you think about him?”

Lexi took a sip of wine. “Jesse?”

“I mean, how do you think he
feels
?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you think he’s happy? Do you think he’s
content
? He seems so restless these days. I think maybe he regrets asking me to marry him.”

Lexi chose her words carefully. “I know he wants to travel, Clare. He did talk about that. When he saw my pictures of the different beaches, he said he’d like to go there, to Bali, and Rio.”

“He’s traveled!” Clare retorted, defensively. “He’s been to Jamaica and Costa Rica and Tortola.”

“I didn’t mean to make you angry, Clare.”

“I’m not angry at you.” But Clare put her fork down and leaned her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands, thinking. “Maybe I’m angry at Jesse. Maybe I’m really angry at myself. Lexi, aren’t you just
dying
to have children? Why
didn’t
you have children?”

A half-smile twisted Lexi’s mouth. “So you want a baby?”

“You have no idea.” Clare sipped her wine. “Or maybe you do.”

“Yes…” How much should she tell Clare? Just thinking about it made her melancholy, and tonight was meant to be fun.

Clare persisted. “You and Ed didn’t want children?”

Lexi ran her fingertip around the rim of her wineglass. “Oh, yes. I wanted children. But Ed already had children, so he was sort of through with that phase of his life.” She forced a smile. “He turned out to be such a Prince of Darkness, I guess I’m glad we didn’t have children together.”

Clare nodded thoughtfully. “Well, Lexi, I’m not sure Jesse has what it takes to be a father. At least not for a few more decades.”

Lexi grinned. “He is a boy.”

“He is. Peter Pan.” Clare hesitated, then let it all spill out. “Lex, I’ve run into Adam several times, walking on the beach with Ralphie, and he’s so nice, he’s so stable and kind and so
grown up
.”

“Yeah, Clare, but you don’t want to be with someone just because they’re stable.”

“I know, I know. I’m not saying this right. Maybe I’m not even thinking this right just yet, and please don’t say anything about it to Adam, promise?”

Lexi nodded. “Of course.”

“I…I think I’m kind of attracted to Adam, Lex. Sometimes I even think I’m kind of in love with him.”

“But you’re engaged to Jesse.”

“I know!”

The waitress appeared and whisked away their salad plates and set their entrees in front of them.

“Um, smells divine.” Clare leaned over her spicy shrimp-studded fried rice and inhaled. The moment the waitress left, she made hair-pulling motions. “I’m going nuts, Lex! Sometimes I think my love for Jesse has become five percent affection and ninety-five percent pure stubbornness. Sometimes I wonder whether I’m going to make him marry me just because I want to prove to him and to myself and to the town that I’ve won. Do you see what I mean?”

Lexi nodded. “I do.”

“But when I’m with Adam—” Clare broke off, considering her words. “I really like being with Adam.” She grinned wickedly. “Plus, he’s really hot.”

Lexi narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you dare break his heart.”

“No, it’s not like that, Lexi. I mean I wouldn’t just sleep with him and still be with Jesse.” She waved her hands. “Oh, I don’t know! I’m just confused. Don’t pay any attention to me. Tell me about you, Lexi. Have you met anyone you want to date?”

Lexi shook her head. “All I’ve been doing is working, day and night. It’s like Noah’s ark is about to land. I remember how it was with my parents’ shop in the good days. One moment life is organized and the next there are hundreds of wild animals thundering around and it’s all you can do to keep them fed and stabled.”

Clare laughed. “You’re so funny, Lex.” She reached across the table and took her friend’s hand. “I’m so glad you’re home.”