My own hedonistic lifestyle didn’t leave much room for jealousy. I was a junior in high school the year Andrew turned eight, quarterback on my football team, and working my way through the cheerleading squad. Let’s say I had different priorities. Besides, Andrew’s winning personality, quick wit and 1,000-watt smile made it nearly impossible to dislike the kid.
Dudley sighed as though understanding he was no longer the center of attention. He butted my arm again until I lifted it and allowed him to squeeze in next to me. Andrew named his cat Dudley after the cartoon character Dudley Do-Right of the Mounties on the old Rocky and Bullwinkle show. I stroked Dudley’s soft fur and thought about my brother and the events leading up to his death. Reflexively, I raised a hand to my throat and felt the cool silver chain. Running two fingers along the links, I touched the smooth surface of the medallion, traced the arc of its back from the blunt point at one end to the fanned tail.
Andrew’s swim team was named the Dolphins, and the sponsor, a local jewelry store, gave each of the swimmers a bracelet with a sterling silver dolphin after they won the conference title. Andrew wore the bracelet proudly for a few months before putting it aside after his friends teased him, saying it made him look like a sissy.
I found the bracelet after Andrew died and took it without telling my parents. Before I went off to the Gulf War I had the dolphin added to a silver chain. It’s remained around my neck ever since as a constant reminder of my brother.
“Sorry to disturb you,” I said aloud to the cat, and slid over to the other side of the bed. Dudley eased back on his haunches, eyeing me suspiciously. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”
I turned on the lamp and pulled a small photo album with a red, green and black plaid cover out of the drawer of the bedside table. I sat with my legs hanging over the bed, the album cradled in two hands like a holy scroll, and willed myself to open it. Dudley left the warm spot on the other side of the bed and padded over to me. He sat by my side, back straight, eyes moist and golden in the lamp light.
While Dudley watched, I opened the album to a picture of my brother and me in front of my first car. Andrew Mitchell held his cat in his arms. I stood next to him in the photograph, one hand resting casually on his shoulder while Andrew’s head craned up at me, a huge smile on his face.
I remember my mother had received a new Canon SLR for her birthday and was irritating everyone with her zeal to record our family’s every waking moment. That day, I was in the driveway washing my treasured Trans Am, which I’d recently bought secondhand from a friend. It was a warm Saturday afternoon in May, and I was shirtless, wearing a pair of old shorts and holding a soapy sponge in one hand. I recall mom took forever to get the f-stops right and frame each shot as if she was on assignment for Life Magazine. While she fiddled with the camera, Andrew ran from the house carrying the unhappy Maine Coon. He slid in beside me and I placed a wet hand on his shoulder. He smiled up at me just as mom snapped the shutter.
Looking at that picture of Andrew, sunlight splashed across his face, there was no hint of the traumatic events that would irretrievably alter our family. The photo was a cruel reminder that life deals the cards blindly. To anyone else, there is nothing exceptional in the family photo, just an eight-year-old boy holding a cat and looking admirably at his big brother. But if you knew Andrew, you’d see the sweetness in his face, the intelligence in his eyes, the potential that comes with good genes and social and financial advantages, and an inner strength that was obvious even at his young age.
As he smiled at me, his eyes had a light of expectation in them; filled with the knowledge his big brother would always be there to protect him. Two months later, Andrew was dead.
***
Quint pulled Jillian LeBlanc as close to him as the sport seats in his 1980 Pontiac Trans Am allowed. They were parked in the driveway of her parents’ Tudor-style mansion after taking in the summer’s big hit, Back to the Future. While they kissed, Quint’s hand found her knee and slowly inched north toward the promised land.
The Mitchells and the LeBlancs were close family friends when Jillian and Quint were younger, even taking a few vacations together, but the families had eventually drifted apart. Jillian and Quint discovered one another again near the end of the school year, both of them rising seniors. They’d been dating for less than a month, but to his growing frustration, Jillian successfully managed to keep him at arms length—away from the hot zones, as she put it. Now her right hand clamped down on his just as he was within reach of his goal. She pushed him back with surprising strength for a girl whose idea of exercise was carrying shopping bags from the mall to her car.
“My parents won’t be back from their cruise until Wednesday,” she said in a throaty whisper. “I was thinking maybe we could drive over to our beach house this weekend. Just you and me.”
He fell back against the door, dramatically clutching his chest.
“I don’t believe it,” he said, before quickly adding, “Why wait? If they’re away, let’s play tonight.” He pointed toward the big house where spotlights illuminated the shrubbery and driveway.
“I’m sure my sister will appreciate that,” Jillian said. She was the youngest of four girls—two of them were married, and one in college, but now home for the summer. “Besides, the beach house is private and so much more romantic, don’t you think?”
Atmosphere wasn’t a top priority for Quint at the moment. Any bedroom would accommodate the fantasies he’d been conjuring the past few weeks.
“Well, are you interested or not?”
“What do you think?” he said, trying to slide his hand under her skirt. “How about a preview of coming attractions?”
Jillian pushed his hand away and crossed her legs, pulling the skirt primly over her knees. “Not now. We don’t want to spoil the big moment, do we?” Jillian patted his hand as she might placate a pouting child.
Quint liked this girl, but he wanted to tell her she was driving him crazy. Instead he said, “Sure, I was only kidding. What time shall I pick you up?”
“Will your parents let you go if—you know? Spend the weekend alone with me.”
“My parents are busy people. I don’t like to bother them with every little detail.”
Jillian leaned over and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “That’s good. You can pick me up at nine Saturday.” She slipped out of the car and walked to the front door of her house.
Quint watched her walk away, admiring the curve of her calf and the delicious bounce of her hips. Each step she took rocketed bolts of testosterone into his teenage bloodstream, and he knew this weekend would be the best in his young life.
At home that night, Quint told his mother and father about Jillian’s invitation to spend the weekend with her parents at their Guilford beach house on Long Island Sound. Bending the truth this way gave Quint a slight twinge of guilt, but parents didn’t need to know everything their kids did or they’d never allow them out of their sight.
“Got a problem, son,” his father said, closing the legal file he’d been reading. Robert Mitchell, still called Bobby by most of his friends and business associates, took off his reading glasses and stood. He was a big man with an athlete’s build that had softened over the past few years as his hairline receded and his waistline thickened
Quint shifted his eyes from his father to his mother. “What’s the problem?”
His father moved several steps to the settee where Quint’s mother sat. “Your mother has decided to accompany me to New York City for my conference this weekend.” He placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder and rubbed it affectionately.
Quint remembered his father mentioning the conference at dinner last week, but this was the first he’d heard about his mother going along.
“That’s cool,” Quint said, “but what’s the problem?”
“Have you forgotten your brother? Someone needs to take care of Andrew.”
Quint had forgotten. His mind raced, searching for a way around the roa
dblock his father had thrown in his path to orgasmic heaven.
“Maybe he can go with you. You know, a nice family outing, see the Empire State Building and Statue of Liberty.”
His father and mother exchanged glances before his father shook his head. “Sorry, big guy, not this time.”
“What about Marlie? She can come home for the weekend, can’t she?” His sister was in summer session at college, and hadn’t been home in more than a month.
His mother spoke up, “Marlie needs to study for a couple of tests. I spoke with her earlier today and she’s pretty stressed out about her economics mid-term.”
“Can’t she come home and study?” Quint’s dreams of a fantasy weekend were crumbling before his eyes. “I do it all the time.”
His mother smiled at Quint’s desperation. “Think about it, son. She’d have to be on the road for more than seven hours coming and going. That’s seven hours she could be studying.”
He couldn’t think of an answer for that and hung his head, trying to imagine what he would tell Jillian.
“I’ve got an idea,” his father said.
Quint wasn’t sure he wanted to hear his father’s idea. “What?”
“Why don’t you take Andrew with you? It’s a huge house and Andrew will enjoy a weekend at the shore. I’m sure Sam and Betsy won’t mind.”
Quint toed a mauve flower on the Oriental rug wondering what to say next. He wished he never had this conversation in the first place, but now he didn’t have a choice. “I don’t know,” he managed to say. “Maybe they’re having some of their friends over, and—”
Bobby Mitchell smiled at his son. “Come on. I know you think he’s going to get in the way of your fun with Jillian, but there are plenty of things to keep him occupied. It won’t be a problem.”
“Why don’t I call Betsy in the morning and make sure it’s all right?” Quint’s mother chimed in.
“No, that’s okay,” Quint said quickly. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem. I’ll talk with Jillian later and she can clear it with her parents.”
***
The LeBlanc’s beach house was located at the end of a quiet road on one of the exclusive fingers of land poking into Long Island Sound. The house had all the amenities of the good life, a private beach, swimming pool, boat dock and spectacular views of the water. While he’d enjoyed all of it in past visits, none of these currently held any interest for Quint who had his eye on the four bedrooms.
Jillian had been put off when he called to tell her about his younger brother, but he explained that there was plenty to keep Andrew busy outside while they rested inside. Plus, after Andrew fell asleep Saturday night, they’d have a good six or seven hours to do whatever they wanted. More than enough time to work out his frustrations.
“Man, this place is cool,” Andrew announced after romping through all of the rooms. He found a stack of games on a bookshelf next to the color television set, and began rooting through them. “Look, Dudley, they have Monopoly.” Andrew had insisted on taking the giant cat with him. Dudley was ensconced on the back of the couch keeping a sharp eye out for anything that looked like food.
“Yeah, bud, maybe we’ll play a few games later tonight,” Quint said. “Did you put your suitcase away in the bedroom?”
“Uh huh.”
Andrew had close-cropped straw-colored hair, their mother’s tiny turned-up nose, and dark brown eyes that twinkled like they held the key to a storehouse of mischief. Losing interest in the games, Andrew ran to the bay window and stared at the blue waters dotted with sailboats. A Sunfish with red and blue sails was anchored on the beach next to the house. A kayak perched beside it.
“Do you think we can go sailing?” Andrew asked, looking hopefully at his brother.
“Maybe after lunch. Jillian has a couple of bikes in the storage shed, and there are some neat trails if you’d like to go exploring later.” A protected land trust surrounded the home, warding off encroachment by developers, and offering picturesque hiking and biking trails through the woods and along the shore. Quint remembered hiking the trails with Jillian when they were only a few years older than Andrew.
“That would be cool. Will you show me?”
“We’ll see,” he said to Andrew. “I was up late last night and might want to take a nap after lunch.” Quint and Jillian exchanged glances. She shrugged and eyed him coolly. Her displeasure with him wasn’t making this any easier. Neither was her outfit. Jillian had on a pair of shorts so short and so tight he wondered why the button didn’t pop off. She’d tied her loose-fitting T-shirt into a knot exposing her navel and Quint thought about the drive to the beach house when he’d drifted onto the shoulder of the road because he couldn’t take his eyes off her crotch.
“How about a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?” Jillian asked, moving toward the kitchen.
Andrew whirled away from the window and ran after her. “Sure, and do you have any Oreo’s? I love Oreo’s.” He stopped suddenly, trotted back to the living room and grabbed Dudley from the top of the couch. The cat’s copper eyes lasered its displeasure and a low growl rumbled in its throat. Dudley weighed nearly a third of Andrew’s sixty-five pounds, and the boy’s arms encircled the cat’s middle clutching it against his chest.
He stopped in front of a family portrait of the LeBlancs that included Jillian and her three sisters. “Hey, when are your parents getting here?” Andrew yelled after Jillian who was already in the kitchen.”
Jillian hurried back into the living room, shooting a deadly glare at Quint that would have made Dudley proud. “They were held up and won’t arrive until tomorrow,” she said.
“That’s right,” Quint added, prodding his brother in the back. “Now get in there and wash your hands. You’ve got a big day ahead of you and you’ll need your energy.” He smiled at Jillian hoping this held true for him as well.
The day didn’t go entirely the way Quint had envisioned. After lunch, Andrew headed for the sailboat. Knowing it might consume two or three hours of his afternoon, Quint put him off, promising they’d go later. Instead, they splashed through ten games of Marco Polo in the LeBlanc’s swimming pool.
Jillian’s lime-colored bikini covered only the bare essentials and Quint slid his hands over her smooth skin while Andrew paddled around with his eyes closed yelling Marco. Each time Quint groped her, she would laugh, yell Polo and dunk him. After the tenth game Quint was so horny he thought he was going to burst. He climbed out of the pool, quickly pulling a towel around his waist.
“That’s enough for me,” Quint said, flopping on his belly on one of the lounges by the pool.
“Aw c’mon. Just one more game,” Andrew called from poolside, palming a spray of water at his big brother.
“Don’t you think you can get it up for one more game?” Jillian teased, and joined Andrew in splashing Quint.
In the end, Quint acquiesced. After another game he boosted himself out of the pool and announced, “Andrew, you’ve got too much energy for me. You’re the world champ of Marco Polo. Now I’m going to take a nap.” He gazed at Jillian, who had lifted herself onto the ledge, leaning forward on her tanned and willowy arms. The afternoon sun glinted off the water streaming over her full breasts compressed between her arms, and Quint ached to be with her.
“Well, I don’t want to take a nap.” Andrew’s mouth began to shape itself into a pout.
“Of course not,” Jillian said. Quint grabbed her outstretched hand and pulled her out of the pool. “This would be a good time for you to check out that hiking path Quint told you about earlier.” She handed Andrew a towel. “Here, wipe off and put on your sneakers. Then I’ll show you where the path starts.”
She pointed to a wooded patch behind the house. “Once you’re past those trees the path curves back along the shoreline. You’ll see a cave cut into the rocks at Pelican Point, and a small beach where the seals hang out in the winter. If you’re lucky you might be able to spot a heron or some egrets or maybe osprey hunting for f
ish.”
“Cool. Are you coming with me?”
Jillian smiled at Andrew, reached out and rubbed his stubbly head. “You know, I was about your age the first time I explored the path by myself. I thought I was so grown up.”
Andrew nodded enthusiastically. “I can do that. How long will it take?”
“It depends on how much you want to explore, but I’d say a little over an hour. When you get back, Quint will take you sailing, and then we’re going to my favorite restaurant in Guilford for dinner.”
Andrew laced up his shoes and took off toward the woods. “Take your time,” Quint called after him, “and be careful around the rocks.”
Jillian and Quint exchanged looks as Andrew disappeared into the tree line. “Alone at last.” Jillian bent toward him and ran her tongue lightly around his ear. She let her fingers trail over his chest and down his solid abs until she got to the band of his bathing suit. One finger stroked his lower abdomen under the band and his muscles contracted. She laughed at his involuntary intake of breath.
“Why don’t you follow me, big boy?” she said, gripping the top of his suit and pulling him toward the house.
***
Sixty-five minutes later, a sated and still smiling Quint emerged from the shower. He’d dressed in a clean pair of shorts, slipped on a white knit Lacoste polo shirt, and walked barefoot into the kitchen where Jillian sat drinking a Coke. She swallowed a large mouthful, and licked her lips.
“That tastes good,” she said.
He leaned over and kissed Jillian on the mouth, his tongue separating her lips. “Uhmm, I’d have to agree,” he said when he came up for air.
Quint dropped onto one of the stools beside her. “Heard anything from Marco Polo the explorer?”
Jillian glanced at the kitchen clock over the stove. “Not yet, but he should be along pretty soon.”
“Maybe he’ll be too tired to go sailing this afternoon. I know I am,” Quint said.
“Don’t think you’re going to get much rest tonight, mister. I have plans for you.”
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