Undertow

by Elizabeth O'Roark

  “Why are you smiling like that?” he asks. “Someone’s trying to break down my goddamn door.”

  “You’re coming with me,” I say, unable to put a hold on my joy even if someone is trying to destroy the house.

  And he smiles back at me, boyish and thrilled. “Yes, I am.” He runs down the stairs while I throw on my clothes. I hear shouting, and the moment my shirt is over my head I am running toward the sound.

  My father is yelling as I emerge from the stairwell.

  “Dad?” I cry. “What’s going on?”

  Both of my parents are outside Nate’s door. My father sees me and attempts to push past Nate.

  “Dad! Stop!” I insist. Nate is larger and blocks my father, but he does so looking over at me with uncertainty. Despite everything we have promised each other, this, for him, is the moment of truth – the moment when I choose sides.

  I know what I have if I stand with my parents: I have a ridiculously comfortable life, I have money and the power behind it to put me anywhere I want to go. Except there’s only one thing I want right now, and it’s on this side of the door. I walk beside Nate, and I take his hand. He squeezes mine tightly, relief echoing in the pressure of his fingers.

  “You can’t be serious, Maura!” my mother cries. “You’re with him? You clearly haven’t thought this through!”

  “Mom, I’ve been in love with him since I was 13. I’ve had almost a decade to think it through.”

  “You’re 22 years old! What do you know about love?” she shouts.

  “You certainly thought I was old enough last night when Ethan was proposing,” I argue.

  “This is unbelievable!” she shouts. “First you make me a laughingstock in our community, then you get Jordan arrested, and now you’ve chosen some blue collar local over Ethan?”

  “What do you mean I got Jordan arrested?” I gasp.

  “Thanks to your little stunt last night, Stephen Mayhew told the police that Jordan helped destroy the walkways,” she says. “So I hope you’re happy.”

  I feel Nate grow tense beside me. “Your son destroyed property and somehow that’s Maura fault?” he asks scathingly.

  She turns to Nate. “No one was talking to you,” she snaps. “You’re not a part of this family. No matter how much you steal from us or use our daughter.”

  Rage surges through me, but Nate speaks before I can. “We both know I haven’t stolen anything – you can check your father’s will if that’s not clear,” he says calmly, and then he turns, and he’s really talking only to me, “and I’m not using your daughter. I’m marrying her.”

  My mother’s laugh is biting. “Maura doesn’t even want to get married. Which shows how little you know about her.”

  “Actually, Mom,” I say, feeling the words rise out of me like tiny, happy bubbles. “I think I’ve changed my mind about that.”

  Looking at Nate’s smile is like staring straight at the sun. “Really?” he asks, wide-eyed, forgetting my parents completely.

  “Really,” I reply, forgetting them too.

  “When?” he asks.

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready now,” he says.

  “I cannot believe I am listening to this!” my mother yells. “Stop that this instant! You two barely know each other!”

  I laugh, still looking only at Nate. “I know him better than anyone alive.”

  “I won’t stand for it, Maura,” she says.

  “You don’t have to stand for it, Mom. I’m 22. I don’t need your permission.”

  “What about law school? I seem to recall you insisting you didn’t even want to date Ethan because you were leaving for school, but now you’re ready to get married?”

  “Nate’s coming with me,” I tell them.

  “We will cut you off, Maura, without a dime,” she warns.

  “We don’t need your money,” says Nate.

  “Maybe you don’t,” sneers my father. “But if she wants to go to law school she does.”

  “Fine,” I reply. “I’ll use the trust.”

  “You can’t access that trust until you’re 30,” he says triumphantly. “So you’d better re-think what’s going on here. And fast.”

  “And you can forget about setting foot in our home again until you’ve come to your senses,” says my mother.

  Nate shuts the door and leans against it, pulling me into him.

  “We’ll find the money, baby, I promise,” he whispers into my hair.

  I just shake my head. “Where? There’s nowhere we can get that kind of money, and it’s too late to apply for loans,” I say. I can’t believe I was so close, only to have the whole thing ripped out from under me.

  “Maybe I can take out a mortgage on the carriage house,” he says. “We’ll have to talk to Peter to see if it’s legal, but I don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”

  “No,” I say, trying to gather my voice back together into some semblance of strength. “I can’t take your money.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “It’s our money. Or have you already forgotten that you just said you’d marry me?”

  I laugh. “Oh, right.”

  “Did you mean it?” he asks, tentatively. “Or were you just trying to piss off your mom?”

  “Of course I meant it,” I say, placing my hands on either side of his worried face.

  “Good,” he says softly. He leans down to kiss me, his mouth feather light against mine. He deepens the kiss, gripping my hips and pulling me forward, and I groan a little at the feel of him.

  “I warned you about making that noise,” he says in a low voice, and he scoops me up and carries me to bed.

  **

  The next morning there is someone at the door again, but this time the knock is timid, almost childlike.

  I half-expect to find a Girl Scout or a lost toddler, but instead I find Mia, who glances warily over her shoulder before she even speaks.

  “I heard what happened,” she says. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “But it’s okay. I’m really happy.”

  “I kind of figured that,” she says with a rueful smile. She pauses, and casts another anxious glance back at the house and the driveway. “I heard you weren’t allowed back in the house,” she says nervously. “I went in after your parents left and packed up what I could. It’s in my trunk.” She says it so apologetically you’d think she was telling me she’d lit my stuff on fire rather than rescuing it.

  “Thank you so much, Mia,” I say, throwing my arms around her. “You know you could always come with us if you don’t feel like staying around to clean up Jordan’s mess.”

  She shakes her head a little sadly. “I’ve made my choice,” she says. “But I just wanted you to know … I think you made a better one.”

  **

  We call Peter to set up a meeting, and he suggests we talk after Jordan’s hearing that afternoon. I agree reluctantly because I’m not sure that I’d planned on going. If my parents are blaming me for this, Jordan is too.

  I sit in the courtroom with Nate beside me, thinking about how much things have changed in seven days. One week ago I was here with Ethan, feeling as if my life had ended. Thinking I’d lost the only person I’d ever loved. And now he’s beside me. No matter how awful the next hour will be, it pales in comparison to the last time I sat here. I squeeze his hand and when he smiles at me I feel weightless, buoyant, as if we’re here to get married rather than watch my brother get arraigned.

  Jordan’s bail is set. He walks to my parents and Mia grimly, and never says a word to me as he leaves the courtroom. Nate and I turn to leave and my steps stutter to a halt. Ethan is against the back wall. And there are no words for the look he gives me.

  What I did to him at the wedding is, arguably, the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life, but to have him find me with Nate two days later surpasses it. My behavior is absolutely inexcusable. And I wouldn’t change it for the world. Not for a moment do I wish Nate wasn’t beside me. No
t for a moment am I anything less than overwhelmingly grateful for the pressure of his hand as we walk toward the back of the courtroom.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Nate says gently. “He knew you didn’t want to marry him. He asked the way he did to pressure you, and he deserved what he got.”

  I know Nate’s right, but my stomach twists with dread as we reach Ethan. There is nothing I can say that will make this better. No heartfelt apology is going to fix it.

  “I want to talk to you for a minute,” Ethan hisses. “Without him,” he adds, glaring at Nate.

  Nate pauses, waiting for a signal from me before he drops my hand and backs away.

  Ethan looks at me with disgust. “So the two of you are a couple now?” he asks.

  “Yes,” I say, and as bad as I feel about the whole situation it’s hard not to smile. I’m with Nate now. It’s out, and no one can take it away from us this time. And I’m marrying him, which is about as real as it gets.

  “And I guess this was going on all summer behind my back?” he asks.

  “No, of course not,” I tell him. It’s sort of true. And sort of not. “I’m sorry,” I say, hoping he’ll at least hear the sincerity in the words. “About the wedding, about how things ended … I’m just sorry.”

  “Is that all you have to say?” he snaps. “You humiliated me in front of 400 people, Maura, and all you have to say is ‘sorry’?”

  “There’s nothing I can do to change the way things happened,” I tell him. “You shouldn’t have asked me in public. You knew I didn’t want that. You were just trying to shame me into it.”

  “You don’t think about anyone but yourself,” he snarls. “Every decision is only about what you want, what’s best for you.”

  Nate, sensing the increased hostility, comes back to my side.

  “Who am I supposed to be thinking of when I’m making a decision that will affect the rest of my life?” I demand of Ethan. “You? Your parents?”

  “Why don’t you ask me who you shouldn’t be thinking about, Maura? Because it shouldn’t be him!” he yells, looking at Nate. “No matter how many times we all try to set you straight, you go right back to him, don’t you?”

  The chill in my spine puts me on alert. I grow still as the room around me grows chaotic, as Nate’s arm wraps around my hip and pulls me into him protectively, as the bailiffs begin moving toward us. “How exactly have you all tried to set me straight?” I ask.

  “Do you know how many times I warned your grandparents about the two of you? Your grandfather would never listen. If he hadn’t died you’d probably still be fucking Nate out on the beach where anyone could see you!”

  The rage I feel is lethal, so intense that I don’t want to waste my energy yelling. I’m saving it to wound. “It was you?” I ask, frighteningly calm. “You’re the one who told my grandmother?”

  “Yes,” he sneers. “And all summer I had to put up with your good-girl routine, knowing what a little slut you used to be.”

  Nate releases my waist and instinctively I step back, because I know what will happen next. When Nate’s fist connects with Ethan’s jaw, I’m not even vaguely surprised. And I’m not even vaguely guilty, because he’s part of the reason I spent five years away from Nate, and he deserves everything he gets.

  Peter waits for us. He waits while the bailiffs rush to pull Ethan and Nate apart, while Ethan insists he wants to press charges for assault and the bailiffs ignore him. Finally we walk away, and I kiss the bruised hand that holds mine as Peter leads us to a conference room.

  “Well that was interesting,” Peter laughs as we sit. He looks at our linked hands. “I guess you two figured it out then.”

  “Figured what out?” I ask with an edge to my voice. It’s beginning to feel that everyone alive was somehow complicit in my grandmother’s plan, but I never dreamt Peter would be among them.

  “Figured out that you were my spies,” he says with a question in his voice.

  Nate and I look at each other in surprise.

  “It was you who told us when they were tearing down the walkways?” he grins. “I had no idea you were so devious.”

  “And you were the person who staked it out.” I smile, but the truth is the victory is a little hollow now. Would I have done it, if I’d known Jordan was involved? I’m not sure.

  “I’m sorry about your brother,” Peter says.

  I’m sorry too, in a way, but in another I am not. Maybe this will be a turning point for Jordan. Maybe the specter of prison will make him realize it’s time to be happy with what he has.

  “You had some questions about the terms of Daniel’s will, is that correct?” he asks.

  “Yes,” says Nate. “I know I can’t sell the carriage house unless the Pierces sell their house too, but what about taking out a mortgage on it?”

  Peter shakes his head. “I seriously doubt you can get a mortgage on a property that’s entailed in that way.”

  Our faces drop, and Nate squeezes my hand. “Then we’ll come up with something else.”

  Peter looks back and forth between the two of us. “Uh, why on earth would you need money, Maura?”

  I explain the situation, and both Nate and I sit for a moment, deflated, while Peter continues to look confused. “Maura, just because Nate can’t take out a mortgage doesn’t mean you can’t. That would give you more than enough to live off for quite some time.”

  I laugh sadly. “I’m no expert on real estate law, but I’m pretty sure I’d have to own some property in order to take out a loan on it.”

  His face goes from befuddled to astonished. “Maura, you do own property. You own the mansion.”

  I laugh again. “No I don’t.”

  “I administered your grandfather’s will. I think I’d know,” he says. “Are you telling me your parents kept that from you?” he asks angrily.

  “I wasn’t there when the will was read,” I explain, knowing even as I say it that it’s no excuse.

  He is aghast. “But we sent you letters. There were documents you signed and returned … ” he trails off, shaking his head. “It’s unconscionable. And if they forged those documents, it’s also illegal.”

  He pulls a copy of the will out of the folder in front of him and hands it to me. I see my name, my grandfather’s signature, and watch the document shake a little in my hand.

  “This can’t be right. What about my grandmother, my parents, Jordan? I’m the last person it should have gone to.”

  “I think your grandfather felt differently,” he says with a shrug. “Your grandmother is allowed to remain there until her death, but he always hoped that it would end up with you and Nate. That’s why he specified in his will that the carriage house must pass to Nate in the event of Mary’s death.”

  “But we were just teenagers when he died,” Nate says. “He couldn’t have known we’d end up together.”

  Peter smiles. “You weren’t even teenagers. He wrote this will when Maura was 10. I advised him against all of it, but I couldn’t dissuade him. He said he just knew.”

  I look over at Nate through a film of tears, and smile when I see that his eyes, too, are suspiciously bright.

  CHAPTER 40

  Five Years Later

  The call comes late, so late I probably wouldn’t have answered at all if it wasn’t coming from the south. I know, without even looking at the number, that it won’t be a member of my family. My parents have called me three times since I left. Each call begins with the clear expectation that I will show some contrition for the decisions I made, and when I don’t they grow angry. They don’t regret their actions – they regret only that I was so impulsive and selfish, as if the preservation of our family’s social standing was well worth any sacrifice I may have been asked to make.

  This is a call that should have come from them, but does not. It comes from Peter, informing me that my grandmother has passed away. Yet another reason the call didn’t come from my parents, who still feel the house should have g
one to Jordan.

  Peter asks what I want to do with the house. I probably should have already thought this through, but I really have no idea. Before I hang up, he stops me. “I know things ended badly here, Maura. But when you make a decision about the house, keep in mind why your grandfather wanted you to have it.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “You know your grandfather hated how insular things are here,” he says. “He thought you, and Nate, might be the ones who could change that. You could make this a real community, not just a place for rich folks to pass some time.”

  “I don’t know,” I demur. “I think changing the Cove is a bigger task than two people could take on.”

  “I got the birth announcement,” he says, changing the topic suddenly. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you,” I smile, looking across the room at my little pink bundle and her exhausted father, who have fallen asleep together in the rocking chair, as they are both apt to do.

  “Can’t be easy to take care of a new baby and work at a big firm at the same time,” he comments.

  “I’m still on leave, but no, it probably won’t be easy,” I sigh. The truth is that working at a big firm has been far less glamorous and far more grueling that I once envisioned. And the thought of leaving my little girl to work 60-hour weeks is killing me.

  “Did I tell you I’m getting ready to retire?” he asks.

  Peter is typically a decent conversationalist, but tonight I can barely keep up with the change of topics.

  “No, I hadn’t heard,” I say.

  “We could use a good lawyer down here, Maura,” he says. “And I guarantee you it’s a lot more relaxed than working at a firm. Nate must be nearly done with his master’s degree. Tons of new homes going in at North Shore. Architects have more work than they can handle.”

  I laugh. “You’re kind of a pain in the ass. You know that, right?”

  “I’ll stop,” he chuckles. “But I’m looking at this birth announcement and thinking your grandfather was right about a lot of things,” he says. “Maybe you should have a little faith.”

  Nate climbs into bed with Mary Rose still tucked into his arm like a football.