Nantucket (8 page)

L
iam sprinted along the beach, dove into the surf, and swam underwater until his lungs felt like they'd explode. His record for holding his breath was a minute and fifty-six seconds. When he was a boy, he'd always wanted to break two minutes, but every time he'd almost made it, the water had grown dark and he'd felt Jack pulling him up.

“Sheesh, Li, you're gonna freakin' kill yourself,” Jack shouted.

And Liam sputtered, “Just leave me alone. I could do it if you didn't pull me up!”

“You'll die!”

“No, I won't . . . and if I do, who cares?” But what he never said was:
If I die, I'd get to see them again—if I just stayed down a little longer, I'd get to see my mom and dad again!

Then, one time, Jack hadn't been there. No one was. He'd sucked in as much air as his lungs could hold, ducked under, opened his eyes, and silently counted as the second hand on his watch ticked slowly around . . . once . . . twice. His lungs had ached and he'd closed his eyes, hoping time would go faster. When he'd opened them again, the second hand was at fifty-six. Immediately, everything went black, and when he came to, he was facedown in the sand, waves gently lapping over his legs. He'd picked up his pounding head and spit up a mouthful of gray seawater. That was the last time he tried.

Liam couldn't remember ever being afraid of dying. His grandma had died when he was little, and his mom had assured him that she was in heaven, where, yes, they served spaghetti and chocolate cake; but when he asked her when she'd be back, his mom had said she was in heaven
for eternity.
Liam had frowned, trying to grasp this new concept. Eternity was a long time. In fact, trying to wrap his mind around its actual length made him feel overwhelmed and sad. To think that, after you died, you just floated around heaven for
ever,
with never any other options, was the gloomiest thought he'd ever had. Time just went on and on and on . . .
endlessly.

One time, he and Jack had talked about reincarnation and Jack had said he thought it was hogwash. “What are you going to come back as?” he'd teased. “A dog?” Liam had laughed, but the idea of coming back as someone . . . or something . . . was definitely better than being stuck in heaven forever.

Liam wiped his face and pushed back his wet hair. The run had definitely helped—he felt better, but he still wasn't in the mood to see Jack. As he walked toward the house, Tuck trotted down the path toward him and dropped a tennis ball at his feet.

“Sure, now you want to play,” he teased, picking up the ball. Tuck jumped back, barking excitedly, and Liam threw it as far as he could. Tuck charged after it, his barrel chest plowing through the waves. Moments later, he came back, shaking water everywhere, and dropped the ball at Liam's feet again, and before Liam could pick up the ball again, he was racing back toward the water. “I wish I had half your enthusiasm,” Liam said with a laugh as the dog plunged into the water after the bobbing green ball.

Maybe coming back as a dog wasn't such a bad idea!

 

“O
h, no! I forgot to take pictures,” Cadie said, remembering her camera, and after they moved everything from the skiff to the runabout, she pulled it out and focused it on the island. The sun was setting and golden light was streaming through the trees. “It's beautiful,” she murmured, taking several shots. Finally, they turned and headed back, flushed, tired, and sunburned. They'd swum naked, laid in the sun, made love again, hungrily ate the chicken salad sandwiches they'd brought, drank the wine, went back to the house . . . and made love one last time.

Liam wished the day would never end, and as the runabout skipped across the waves, he pulled Cadie close and prayed no one would find out. He didn't care if she didn't tell her parents. They'd find a way to be together—they
had
to.

As the boathouse came into view, he slowed down and glanced at his watch—it was almost nine o'clock—Coop should've been long gone by now, but the doors were still open and a figure was standing outside. “Damn,” Liam muttered, shaking his head.

“What?” Cadie asked, following his gaze. “Oh, no,” she murmured, her heart racing, and as they reached the dock, Carlton Knox strode toward them.

“Where the hell've you been?”

“Liam took me for a ride.”

“A ride?! That must have been some ride—you've been gone
all
afternoon.”

Liam stared at him defiantly, wanting to say:
Actually, it was
some
ride. Your daughter is quite the cowgirl!
But he bit his tongue, looked up at the boathouse, and realized Cooper was standing in the doorway.

“Get in the car!” Carlton barked.

Tears filled Cadie's eyes as she reached for her bag, and when she looked up and tried to give Liam a smile, Carlton growled, “Now!” She silently got out of the boat and walked up the ramp. Cooper offered Cadie's bike to Carlton as he stalked by, but he bristled. “She won't need it anymore.” Then he thought better of it, took it roughly from Cooper, and heaved it into the Dumpster.

Liam watched in dismay, his heart breaking, and as their SUV pulled away, hot tears spilled down his cheeks.

“What an ass,” Cooper said, shaking his head. “From the very first day I met him I knew he was an A-hole.” Liam didn't say anything as he set the rest of their things on the dock, and when Coop asked, “Are ya bringin'er in?” he just shook his head and walked toward his truck.

“Hey, Li . . .”

Liam stopped but didn't turn around.

“It's not the end of the world. It may seem like it now, but it's not. You have to trust me on this . . .”

Liam continued walking, out of the warm light shining through the boathouse windows and out into the shadows.

T
he bittersweet memory of that summer haunted Liam for years—Cadie had left without saying good-bye, and as the gentle summer breeze had turned to an autumn wind, he was reminded of her at every turn, his heart aching for their paths to cross again. By November, his classmates were gathering letters of recommendation and applying to colleges, but he was barely passing his classes, and although he knew college would be a way off the island—a way to escape his memories—he had no idea where he'd go. So, on a December evening just before Christmas, he walked home through sleeting rain and told Cooper his plans.

“There's
no
way you're enlisting,” Coop railed. “Your mother would never forgive me!”

“I already did,” Liam said.

“Damn that girl!” Coop swore, slamming the table. “I told you not to get involved with her!”

“It has nothing to do with her,” Liam said defiantly. “Jack enlisted too.”

Coop rubbed his temples as if his head might explode. “Is that why you did this? Because of Jack?!”

“What's wrong with Jack?” Liam asked defensively.

“Everything!” Cooper said in an exasperated voice. “Why don't you see him for who he really is?”

“I
do
see him for who he really is. When I was in second grade, he was the only one who wasn't afraid to talk to the
orphan.
He listened to me . . . and he's always been there for me.”

Coop's voice softened. “That may be true, Li, but there's something about that kid that I just don't trust. And I can't believe you let him talk you into this.”

“He didn't talk me into it—I talked
him
into it.”

“Right,” Cooper said, his voice edged with sarcasm.

Liam shook his head and started to walk away.

“Liam, wait.”

He stopped but didn't turn around.

“Joining the Marines may seem like an honorable thing to do,” Coop continued, “but I've been there. I know the horrors of war . . . and I don't want you to ever have to see what I—”

“You don't need to worry,” Liam interrupted. “We're not even
at
war.”

“We're not
now,
” Coop said, “but in this crazy world things can change in a heartbeat.”

“Maybe,” Liam shrugged. “I really don't care . . .”

“Well, I care,” Coop said, clenching his jaw. “And your parents would care.”

“Well, if I die, they can tell me themselves how much they care.”

Coop stared at his nephew as if he was seeing him for the first time, and then turned away so Liam wouldn't see the pain in his eyes.

For the next several months, it had felt like there was an impenetrable wall between them, and then, on July 5, 1990—two weeks after graduation—Liam and Jack left for Parris Island. One month later, Iraqi troops invaded Kuwait, and five months after that, Liam and Jack were deployed to Saudi Arabia as part of the first allied infantry group supporting Operation Desert Storm.

 

Liam stood in the shower as cool water rushed over his shoulders. “Damn, it, Jack! Why'd you have to tell me?” he muttered. His mind drifted to the night before their battalion was set to enter Kuwait. Jack had appeared out of the darkness with a pair of newly issued desert boots and dropped them next to Liam. “Size ten, right?” he asked. Liam nodded and Jack sat down next to him. “Why so glum, mate? We'll be fine—I've got your back,” Jack assured him cheerfully.

Liam looked over, mustering a smile. “And I've got yours.”

For the next eight days, their small band of brothers trudged over rocks and deep desert sand, carrying more than a hundred pounds of equipment, weapons, and personal gear on their backs. Their mission, after blasting through two minefields, was to take Al Jaber Air Base—thought to be the primary command post for enemy forces—but as they made their approach, plumes of black smoke from burning oil fields filled the air, stopping them in their tracks . . . and when they were finally able to continue, under the cover of darkness, everything went wrong.

Almost immediately, they came under fire and Liam heard Jack shouting, “Get down! Get down!” Then he felt a hot-white burning sensation in his knee and another as a bullet grazed his temple below his helmet. A second later, he was pushed to the ground as more artillery fire whizzed past his head. “Are you okay?” Jack shouted.

“I'm fine . . . except my knee . . . and my head.” And then he'd looked over and saw blood trickling down the side of Jack's face. “Oh, shit, man, are
you
okay!?”

Jack laughed. “I'm fine, buddy. If
you're
fine—I'm fine.”

But Jack wasn't fine. He'd covered Liam's body with his own and was hit in the shoulder, chest, and face. They were both medevaced out as soon as it was light.

Liam touched the scar near his temple—it didn't hurt like the scar on his knee—which still ached at times, especially when he kneeled, but he was alive, and there was no doubt in his mind it was because of Jack. How do you turn your back on a friend who has put his life on the line for you? No matter what he's done, you can't just give up on him.

Liam pushed the shower knob in hard, and a piece of plastic broke off and fell in the tub. “Damn it,” he grumbled, picking it up and throwing it in the trash.

He dried off, wrapped a towel around his waist, and looked in the mirror—at least he didn't look as tired as he had that morning. He shaved, pulled on a clean T-shirt and jeans, and wondered if he should wear a button-down. He'd never been to an art show—what
did
people wear? He looked in his closet and then in his dresser drawer and finally pulled out a blue polo—not too casual but still comfortable.

He went downstairs, opened the fridge, and groaned, realizing he still hadn't been to the store. He rummaged around in a drawer for a notepad and pen, and jotted down a short list of things he needed to pick up on the way home. On the top of the list he scrawled
“BEER.”
Then he stuffed the list in his pocket, fried the last two eggs, finished the OJ, gave Tuck a treat, and promised to be back soon.

A
s Liam looked for a parking spot near Old South Wharf, he wondered why he was setting himself up for more trouble. Common sense was telling him he should leave his past where it belonged and let Jack and Tracey solve their own problems. In fact, if he was smart, he'd just go to the boathouse and get started on John Alden's boat. “I guess I'm not that smart,” he muttered, looking at all the people milling around the entrance to the gallery.

Liam crossed the street, made his way through the crowd, and stepped into the bright, airy space. He quickly scanned the room and immediately saw Tracey talking to Devon. She was holding a glass of wine and her arm was draped over the shoulders of a boy who looked just like Jack. Liam smiled, realized she hadn't noticed him, and took advantage of the chance to look at the paintings alone.

The artist's work was reminiscent of Andrew Wyeth's—rustic, simple, and earthy. Some paintings were of old New England barns and sheds, but others were of wooden skiffs, lobsterpots, and lighthouses—perfect for the Nantucket crowd. It was an impressive body of work for an artist who'd only been out of college a couple of years.

Liam reached the back of the room, turned, and saw the painting that had been used in the newspaper ad—it was breathtaking! He stared at the sunlight peeking through the trees and then looked at the card. It was simply titled,
The Island,
but Liam knew immediately it was Tuckernuck. As he stood still, studying the painting, he felt someone standing next to him and turned to see Tracey. “I'm so glad you came,” she said.

“Me too.”

She looked around and motioned for the two kids—who were standing near the crudités table—to come over, and the little girl elbowed the boy to get his attention and then nodded to her. They shuffled over and Tracey put her arm around the boy's shoulder. “This is T. J.,” she said, “and this is Olivia,” she added, pulling her daughter against her other side.

Liam reached out to shake their hands. “It's nice to meet you.”

“It's nice to meet you too,” they said shyly before whispering a request to go outside.

“Okay,” Tracey said, “as long as you stay together. . . . T. J., you take care of Olivia.”

They both nodded and skipped out, relieved to be free of the stuffy art show.

“Cute,” Liam said as he watched them go.

“Thanks,” she said. “They're good kids.”

She took a sip of her wine and motioned to the paintings. “His work is beautiful, isn't it?”

Liam nodded. “It's gorgeous.”

“He even painted your island,” she added with a smile.

“I see that,” he said, then pointed to the card next to it. “What does the red dot mean?”

“It means someone bought it.”

“Oh,” Liam said, sounding disappointed.

“That's why you have to get here early.”

“I would've been here early,” he said, eyeing her, “but I was feeling a little hung over.”

“You were?” she teased. “I can't imagine why.”

“You mustn't be, though,” he said, nodding to her glass.

“Oh, no . . . this is called hair of the dog,” she said with a laugh. “You should try it.”

He shook his head. “I've sworn off drinking.”

Tracey laughed. “I know all about swearing off drinking—especially Peachtree!”

Liam smiled. “I remember that night . . . some of it anyway.”

“I remember it very well,” Tracey said, searching his eyes.

“I remember the important part,” Liam said with a slow smile.

“You mean the part where you got me drunk and took advantage of me?”

“I think it was the other way around,” he teased, recalling the night after their high-school graduation.

Almost everyone had been at a party at Josh Abram's house and Jack had shown up with Ally Calder, a junior, and even though Tracey had broken up with Jack several weeks earlier at their prom, she still wasn't ready to see him with someone else, so she'd grabbed Liam's arm and pulled him away. “Let's go,” she'd whispered, and somehow they'd ended up at the beach with a six-pack of beer and a pint of Peachtree.

“So, Liam Tate,” she'd teased as they'd sat on the beach, “how come you never asked me out?”

“Because you're Jack's girl,” he'd answered, taking a sip of the sweet brandy.

“Not anymore,” she'd said, reaching across him for the bottle, but he'd teasingly held it away from her and then, as she'd leaned over him, laughing, their lips had met. “Mmm, you taste peachy,” she'd murmured.

“If I remember correctly,” Tracey said with a smile, “you were the one who held the bottle out of my reach.”

“That's because I thought you'd had enough.”

“You were also the one who suggested going swimming.”

“I was just trying to cool things down,” Liam said innocently. “I planned on leaving my boxers
on.
You were the one who thought we should skinny-dip.”

“Are you sure it was me?” she teased.

“Positive.”

“Well, you have to admit—it
was
fun.”

“It was,” Liam said, his eyes sparkling. And then his eyes grew solemn. “And yet, you still went back to him.”

“I did,” Tracey said with a sigh.

“I never understood why,” Liam said. “I thought we . . .”

She shook her head. “Taking Jack back was the biggest mistake of my life, but at the time, he was having second thoughts about enlisting and he begged me to wait for him . . . and then Desert Storm happened.” She paused. “I thought I was going to lose both the boys I loved.”

Liam shook his head. “Meanwhile, I get slammed twice in one year.”

Tracey searched his eyes. “I've always loved you, Li. I still do—we were so close—as thick as thieves, but you were still hung up on Cadie . . . and that night, we were so drunk . . . I guess I felt like we were both on the rebound . . . and I didn't know if you were really interested in being with me.”

“You could've asked. . . .”

“I
should've
asked,” she said, searching his face. “I never regretted that night, though,” she said with a slow smile. “It's one of my fondest memories.”

Liam half-smiled and looked around at the crowd. “Where
is
Jack?”

“He was feeling a little hung over too.”

“He didn't come?”

She shook her head. “No . . . so who knows what he's up to.”

Liam frowned, seeing sadness in her eyes.

“Things aren't that great between us, Li.”

“You seemed fine last night.”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “He'd kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but we've been having trouble for years. I've tried everything—we've been to counselors and he's been to a therapist, but it's like the promise to be faithful has no meaning for him. I've threatened to leave him and he promises he'll change, and he does . . . for a while, but then he always goes back to his old ways.”

“How'd you find out?” Liam asked, relieved that he didn't have to tell her.

“Oh, an endless breadcrumb trail of the usual clues—late nights when he's not where he's supposed to be, text messages, e-mails, photos . . . and the original clue—lipstick on the collar.”

“I'm sorry, Trace,” Liam said.

She nodded. “I've never told anyone this, Li, but he has two other kids about whom I'm not supposed to know.”

“No way,” Liam said, staring at her in disbelief.

She nodded. “He has a daughter who's three years older than T. J.—which means he's basically been cheating on me our whole married life. And I just found out he has a three-year-old son, so it's never stopped. T. J. and Olivia have no idea they have other siblings.”

Liam shook his head. “Why do you stay with him?”

“For the kids—I want them to have a full-time dad.”

“What about you? What about
your
life?”

Tracey shook her head. “The kids would be crushed. I just can't do that to them . . . at least, not now. If you had kids, you wouldn't let them be hurt either—I know
you.
”

Just then, Devon walked over with a huge smile on his face. “I finally pulled him away,” he said cheerily, gesturing to the young man beside him. “Tracey, Liam, this is our famous artist.”

Levi Knox looked like he was about nineteen—he was tan and slim and his chestnut brown hair was streaked from the sun. “Congratulations on your show,” Tracey said, enchanted by his ocean blue eyes. “It's beautiful! Your artwork, that is . . .” she clarified, blushing.

Devon watched their exchange and then looked at Liam as if he were seeing him for the first time. “Oh, my goodness,” he exclaimed in surprise. “I knew you reminded me of someone, Liam . . . and now I know who—you could so easily be Levi's older brother.”

Tracey nodded, realizing how much Levi looked like the Liam she'd loved in high school, but Liam laughed and shrugged. “I don't think so,” he said, “Levi's much better looking.” Then he turned to shake his hand. “Congratulations.”

Levi thanked them both and they were able to talk for a few minutes, but then Chase collected Levi to meet a potential buyer, and as they walked away, Tracey nudged Liam. “Why didn't you ask him?”

“Ask him what?”

“You know
what
—if he's related to Cadie.”

Liam shrugged, looking around. “If he was, she'd be here. Besides, if he was her son, he'd have a different last name.”

“Maybe he's her nephew.”

“That would be a little tough—she was an only child.”

“Have you tried searching for her?”

“I went to New York. I walked around in the pouring rain. . . .”

“I don't mean in person,” Tracey said, shaking her head. “I mean on the computer.”

“On the
what?
” Liam said, feigning confusion.

Tracey laughed. “Jack's right—you
are
impossible!”

“Not as impossible as
he
is,” Liam said.

“I'll drink to that,” she said, finishing her wine. Then she eyed him. “Have a drink with me. It's no fun alone.”

“Yes, it is. I do it all the time,” Liam said as she pulled him toward the bar. She asked for two more glasses and then they went outside.

“Are you driving back to Vermont tonight?”

“Yes . . . well, the kids and I are . . . we have to drop Jack off at Logan on the way. Supposedly, he has a business trip, but he could be going to Bermuda for all I know,” she added, taking a sip of her wine.

Liam watched the people walking in and out of shops. “I'm sorry things have turned out the way they have.”

Tracey smiled. “Nobody's life turns out the way they hope it will, Li. Look at your life—you lost your parents, the girl you loved, and then Coop—you certainly haven't had it easy.” She turned to him. “You know that old saying: ‘Life sucks, and then you die'? Well, it's true.”

“Sheesh,” he said, draping his arm along the bench behind her. “You're even more pessimistic than me.”

Tracey laughed, glanced at her phone, and swore softly. “I didn't realize it had gotten so late,” she said, draining her glass. “I have to find the kids or we're going to miss the ferry. Will you tell Devon and Chase I said good-bye?”

Liam took her glass. “Of course,” he said, searching her eyes. “If you need anything, Trace—day or night—just call.”

She nodded, her eyes glistening. “Thanks, Li,” she said, hugging him. “It's nice to know I have
someone
I can count on.”

“Safe trip home.”

She nodded, mustering a smile and kissing him lightly on the cheek. “Thanks . . . and don't worry—I'm tough . . . I'm Dimitri's girl, remember?” He watched her walk away, and moments later saw T. J. and Olivia skip out of a store. Tracey pulled them close, kissed the tops of their heads, and then turned to wave.

Liam went back into the gallery, set their glasses on the bar, and glanced around for Devon and Chase. He started to walk toward them, but then heard someone calling his name.