Nantucket (6 page)

L
iam felt a cold, wet nose nudging his hand and opened his eyes. He saw a pair of soft brown eyes peering at him. “Hello,” he murmured, and Tuck, happy to find evidence of life, wiggled happily. Liam looked at the clock on the bedside table and groaned. “Eight o'clock! How the heck did that happen?!” Tuck licked his face and wagged his whole hind end, knocking the clock to the floor. Liam leaned over to retrieve it, and as he sat up, felt his head start to pound. “Damn,” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

He shuffled to the bathroom, relieved himself, splashed water on his face, and looked in the mirror. “Man, you have
definitely
seen better days . . .” he mumbled, and Tuck, who'd followed him into the bathroom, continued to wag his tail. “No comments from the peanut gallery either,” Liam said, eyeing him. He opened the medicine cabinet, reached for the aspirin bottle, popped four in his mouth, put his head under the faucet, and swallowed. “Remind me,” he grumbled as Tuck followed him to the kitchen, “never again.”

He let Tuck out and Moby in. “Sorry you got left out, Mobe,” he said apologetically as he scooped kibble into their bowls and put on a pot of coffee. When the coffee was done, he propped open the door, eased into one of the Adirondack chairs on the back porch, and took a sip, hoping his hangover wouldn't last all day.

The night before, they'd started off with a couple of beers, but then Jack had ordered a round of tequila shots—which had been fun, so they'd ordered more . . . until they'd each ordered a round and it had come around to Jack again. Eventually, Liam had lost track of how many they'd had, but when he stood up, he knew it was too many.

Now, as he listened to the waves, he recalled the bizarre conversation he'd had with Jack as they'd stood in front of the urinals in the men's room. Liam blinked at the bright morning sunlight. Had Jack really talked about an encounter he'd had with the wife of a friend in the men's room of an Outback Steakhouse while Tracey and the friend waited for their table?

“In the Bloke's Room!” Jack had said as he relieved himself. “Damn, she was hot, and I pushed her up against the wall of the stall, pulled down her panties, and gave her all I had. Afterward, I went to find our table while she waited. But before the evening was over, I said I had to use the men's room again . . . and damn, if she didn't follow me . . . and when I pulled her skirt up, I realized she never put her panties back on. All through dinner, she'd been sitting next to me with no panties on. Man, I thought I was gonna explode.”

Liam had leaned against the cool bathroom wall, trying to comprehend what Jack was saying. “You cheated on Tracey?” he asked in a voice that was barely audible.

“Li, I've been with Tracey since high school. Don't get me wrong . . . I love her . . . but I can't imagine going through life screwing only one woman . . .”

Liam had felt his fists clench . . . and if he hadn't been so drunk. . . and Tracey hadn't been waiting, he would've clocked him.

“Damn,” he mumbled now, opening his eyes. “What an ass. I can't believe my best friend is such an ass.” Tuck rested his head on Liam's lap and he stroked his soft ears.
Whatever happened to the honor code that was drilled into our heads when we enlisted? Did Jack forget everything they'd learned? Or had the boy he'd known in high school never really changed?
Liam would never forget the time Tracey had tearfully told him she'd seen Jack kissing Diane Hollis, a girl from Martha's Vineyard High School, behind the football bleachers after the Island Cup game . . . and she hadn't been the only one who saw them—when Jack had boarded the ferry back to Nantucket, the whole football team had started singing “Jack and Diane.”

Thinking back, Liam realized Diane was probably just the first of Jack's indiscretions, and he couldn't help but wonder if Tracey knew about others. Maybe she'd known all along—and just lived with it. But if she didn't know, someone should tell her.

He watched the waves, wondering if he should skip the art show—he would certainly be avoiding a lot of trouble if he did. He looked into Tuck's soulful eyes, and whispered, “There's a lot to be said for keeping things simple, ole pal.” Tuck thumped his tail in agreement.

 

“I
told Mrs. Wellington you'd be at the party tonight,” Libby Knox said in an annoyed voice. “They're having a clambake and fireworks. Everyone's going, so I don't know what friends of yours are going to the movies . . .”

“I told you, Mother. I met them at the beach.”

“I hope that boy from the boatyard isn't one of them,” Carlton said, peering over his newspaper. “I don't want you hanging out with him.”

“Why not?” Cadie asked, her voice edged with anger.

“Because he has no future.”

“How do you know? It just so happens he's applying to BU
and
BC.”

“Yeah, let me know how that turns out,” Carlton scoffed sarcastically.

Cadie stared angrily at the newspaper blocking her view of her father. “I'll do what I want,” she said softly.

“What did you say?” Carlton asked, his voice rising as he lowered his paper.

“Nothing,” she muttered.

“Well, I want you to reconsider,” her mother said.

“I'm
not
reconsidering. I don't care about the Wellingtons' party . . .
or
any of the stupid people who will be there.” And before her parents could say anything more, she walked out, slamming the door behind her.

“I know she's been spending time with that boy,” Carlton said angrily. “I've heard his truck on the road. He's nothing but trouble.”

“Well, we can't very well forbid her. . . .”

“We certainly can!”

“I heard the Walshes will be there tonight,” Libby said. “They're flying out to the island this afternoon and Taylor is coming too.”

“Now there's someone with whom she should be spending some time,” Carlton said, folding the newspaper. “Taylor Walsh is a sophomore at Yale—pre-law, and he has an internship at Franklin and Collins this summer.”

“Well, it's a shame Acadia made other plans,” Libby said with a sigh. “Maybe she'll change her mind.”

Cadie stood in the driveway, listening to her parents. “It's a shame
you
don't know that Taylor Walsh is the reason Lila Jacobson had to have an abortion,” she muttered. “If Taylor was the last person on earth, I wouldn't spend time with him.”

She walked around the house, brushing away angry tears. She'd seen Liam several times since he'd taken her to Tuckernuck Island, and every time, she'd had to lie about where she was going. She knew all too well that her parents' plan for her included getting a degree from highly selective college and marrying well . . . and a boy like Liam—who worked in a boat repair shop—had no chance of fitting into that plan, but she didn't care—she'd be an old maid before she married for money.

She walked down to the beach and looked out at the waves. She'd only known Liam for two weeks—hardly long enough to be in love . . . or was it? She'd never met anyone like him—he was soft-spoken and gentle and sure of himself, and when she was with him, she felt happier than she'd ever been. He could make her heart race
and
ache all at the same time . . . and if that wasn't love, she didn't know what was.

The last two times they'd been alone, they'd come so close to making love that she didn't know how he'd stopped. On Sunday night, when she knew he'd be locking up the boathouse, she'd come up behind him and put her hands over his eyes. He'd turned around, pushed the door open again, and pulled her inside. The late-day sun had streamed through the windows, casting golden light across the floor, but Liam had pulled her into the shadows, kissing her softly, and when he pressed against her, she could feel how aroused he was. She'd unbuttoned his jeans and he'd slid his hands under her skirt . . . and then he'd knelt down . . .

Cadie closed her eyes, remembering his sweet touch and the pleasure he'd given her . . . and the way he'd tasted when he kissed her again.

“Acadia!” a sharp voice called, interrupting her thoughts. Cadie turned and saw her father standing in the doorway. “Come up here, please!”

Obediently, Acadia trudged to the house. “Your mother and I have decided that it would be impolite if you don't make an appearance at the party.”

“I already have plans,” Cadie said defiantly.

“Cancel them.”

Cadie felt hot tears stinging her eyes again and she quickly looked away—there was no way she was going to let him see her cry.

An hour later, Acadia stepped into the spacious circular entrance of the Wellington estate and smiled when she replied to Mrs. Wellington's question about how her summer was going.

“The kids are down on the beach.”

“Thank you,” she said politely. “May I use your bathroom to change?”

“Of course. There's one right off the kitchen,” Mrs. Wellington said, pointing, “and there's another down that hall on the left . . . and that hall on the right,” she added, motioning to the two ends of the stately home.

As Cadie walked back through the tiled entrance, she looked out through the floor-to-ceiling windows along the back wall and saw her parents being greeted by the other adults who were already chatting and drinking while two busy bartenders wearing vests and bow ties tried to keep up with their orders.

“They must hate their jobs,” she muttered. “
I
would hate their job.”

As she walked down the hallway with her beach bag over her shoulder, she saw a phone on a small table in the hallway . . . and stared at it as if it were a foreign object. She glanced over her shoulder, picked up the receiver, and dialed the number she'd memorized the very first time Liam said it.

When she returned to the party ten minutes later, her smile was genuine; and when her mother—forgetting she already knew Taylor—introduced them, she nodded politely; and when her father peppered him with questions about Yale and his internship, she even managed to look impressed. Afterward, at her mother's suggestion, she followed Taylor down to the beach, listening as he bragged about the parties his frat house had hosted that year. “It was totally out of hand,” he said, laughing.

As soon as they reached the beach, a bunch of boys playing volleyball good-naturedly jeered Taylor's arrival. He smiled and high-fived them and then opened a large cooler, pulled out a beer, and let the lid drop. Then, he remembered his manners. “Wanna beer?”

“Sure,” Cadie said. She had a little over an hour to kill, so she may as well make the most of it.

“Don't let him get you drunk, Cadie,” one of the boys teased, spiking the volleyball. “He's a total predator.”

Cadie nodded as she walked over to join the girls. “Thanks for the tip,” she called back. “You don't need to worry.”

“Ahh, Taylor, she's got your number,” all the boys teased, but Taylor just shrugged and gulped his beer.

“Hey, Cadie-did!” Tess called. “I thought you weren't coming.”

Cadie shook her head. “I wasn't, but my father insisted—he thinks I should spend more time with Taylor,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“You're kidding!” Tess exclaimed. “Doesn't he know he's just one step up from being a serial rapist?”

“No . . . he thinks he's quite the catch!”

Tess shook her head. “Our parents live in a world of their own.”

“That's for sure. Anyway, if my parents are looking for me later, cover for me, will you?”

Tess raised her eyebrows. “Hmm . . . got a hot date? Actually, don't tell me—if I don't know, I won't be lying,” she said with a laugh.

Cadie laughed, too, and sipped her beer.

 

The caterers were just setting up the dessert table when they finally went back up to the house to fix their plates. Cadie walked past it, adding a lemon square and a cream puff to her plate before walking over to join Tess, who was already perusing the dinner buffet. There was corn on the cob, clams on the half shell, steamers, filet mignon, coconut shrimp, bacon-wrapped scallops, and a wide variety of salads. Cadie looked at all the offerings, but there wasn't anything that appealed to her—ever since she'd started seeing Liam, she hadn't had much of an appetite, so the plate she fixed was with him in mind—and when her plate was full, she made sure her parents saw her, nodded discreetly to Tess, and walked leisurely around the house as if she was looking for a place to sit. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one had followed her and then wandered through the gardens and out onto the quiet road . . .
Freedom!

She walked in the direction from which she knew Liam would come, rounded the bend in the road, and saw him leaning against the hood of his truck, wearing his favorite torn jeans and a T-shirt. Her heart sang at the sight of him and she walked faster, her white skirt billowing around her slender waist.

“Hey,” he said with a slow smile.

“Hey.”

“What's this?” he asked, nodding to the plate.

“Dinner . . . for you.”

“What about you?”

“I'm not hungry. . . .”

He reached for a coconut shrimp, squeezed the tail, and popped it in his mouth. “Mmm . . . how come you're not hungry?” he asked, tossing the tail into the pine trees along the side of the road.

“I think it has something to do with you,” she said with a smile, reaching into her beach bag for the plastic ware she'd grabbed. Her hand touched something cold and after she handed him the napkin she reached back in and produced two frosty bottles.

“Nice!” Liam said with a grin. “So, where are we going?”

“I don't know,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “but we should go soon.”

Liam tossed another shrimp tail into the woods and opened the door for her. Then, giving her the plate to hold, he climbed in and started the truck. Suddenly, a black Mercedes came down the road from the direction of the party and Cadie ducked. Liam waited for it to pass and looked over at her. “What? Are you not supposed to be seen with me?”

“No,” she lied. “I'm supposed to be at the party.”

“Well, maybe you should stay. There's no point in getting in trouble.”

“I won't get in trouble—there're so many people, my parents won't even notice. I just need to be back as soon as the fireworks end.”

“Then we shouldn't go far,” he said, driving past the black iron gates of the Wellington property and turning onto a long, sandy road that ended abruptly at a secluded beach.

“How do you know all these places?” Cadie asked, looking around. “From taking your other girlfriends?”

Liam laughed. “Yup, all my other girlfriends have been here,” he teased. “Actually, it's from riding my bike everywhere when I was a kid. I know every inch of this island.”

“Is that the Wellingtons'?” Cadie asked in surprise, pointing across the water.

“It is.”

“Hey, I think I see my parents!”

He laughed as Cadie handed the plate back to him and opened her beer. “I've already had two,” she confessed, taking a sip.

“You have?!
And
you haven't eaten?”

“I don't need to eat.”

He looked at her eyes. “Yes, you do. You probably have a buzz right now.”

“No, I don't.”

“Yes, you do!” he said with a laugh. “Eat something,” he commanded, holding out the plate.

Cadie picked up the cream puff. “You know what I love about cream puffs?” she asked, seductively licking the chocolate.

“I can't imagine,” he said, suddenly feeling aroused.

She closed her eyes and put the whole thing in her mouth. “Mmm,” she murmured, “the cream.”

Liam smiled. “You're killing me, you know that?” he said, putting the plate on the dashboard.

“I'm sorry,” she teased with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“No, you're not,” he said, sipping his beer.

“Mm-hmm,” she countered.

“Prove it,” he said, searching her eyes.

“All right,” she said, moving closer and unbuttoning the top of his jeans. Liam watched her and then leaned back against the door and closed his eyes.

Ten minutes later, he pulled her onto his chest, kissed the top of her head, and tried to wrap his mind around what she'd just done. “Damn, Cadie,” he whispered. “You sure know what you're doing. . . .”

She leaned against him. “No, I don't. . . .”

“Yes, you do,” he said softly, kissing her cheek and searching for her soft lips. “My uncle's right,” he whispered. “You
are
trouble.”