What's Left Behind

  Janet brought the side salads, cloth-covered basket of warm rolls, and second bar order. Rob poured Abby’s beer into her glass and then filled his own. Abby bit into a tomato and chased it down with a healthy gulp of beer. Her fingers tingled, her head floated. Her gaze went to Rob’s forearm, the sun-bleached hairs, and she rubbed his arm. The conversation was taking them down a serious road, too serious, as though her heaviness had seeped into Rob.

  Rob kissed the top of her head.

  Abby wriggled out from under his arm. She took one look at the strangely sad look on his face and swallowed against sudden reflux. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Then don’t,” Abby said, and her words came out in a breathy whisper.Was he breaking up with her on their first official date?

  “I know how much you want to adopt Luke’s baby.”

  “Of course.” The ambient noise of restaurant conversations buzzed in her ears. Two tables over, a young mother cut up a chicken finger for her pig-tailed toddler. Beside her bearded husband, a school-aged boy slid his peas one by one onto the tines of his fork. How would the couple feel if someone walked in and stole their children? Abby’s situation was no different. “Luke’s child is my child. I can’t let Tessa give the baby away to someone else. I can’t let her make a terrible mistake. I can’t—”

  Lose Luke again.

  Rob caressed her cheek with a calloused finger, sending a shock through her center. “I admire what you’re doing,” he said. Abby thought of his blush-inducing words from yesterday’s groundbreaking. Her strength had inspired him. Then why did she still feel as though he were trying to give her the brush-off?

  “But?” Abby said.

  To Rob’s credit, he didn’t miss a beat. “But I think it’s only fair to let you know, at this point in my life, I’ve no interest in becoming a dad again.”

  This took a couple of seconds to sink in. Then, “I’m not looking for a baby daddy,” slipped from her brain through her lips. An amalgam of relief and annoyance flashed through her. Or maybe it was just the alcohol. Celeste was right. Abby was Little Miss All or Nothing. Either buttoned-up or give everyone an eyeful of her secret weapons. Celibate as a nun or hankering to throw caution to the wind and launch herself at Rob.

  At the moment, Rob didn’t exactly look as though he were predisposed to catching her.

  Rob angled away from her, and his expression went from guarded vulnerability to simply guarded.

  Another Little Miss All or Nothing-ism. Get a little buzzed, and Abby tossed her tight-assed filter out the window.

  Okay, she was a little more than buzzed.

  Janet brought their dinners and set their plates before them. Lobster, baked potato, coleslaw, and corn for Rob. Mussels in a broth of garlic and white wine for Abby. Slices of crusty bread edged the generous plate. Her stomach rumbled in appreciation. “Anything else I can get you?” A frown pulled at the corners of Janet’s grin. She looked from Abby to Rob and back again.

  “I’m good,” Rob told Janet, although he clearly was not.

  Abby ordered a rum and Coke.

  She placed her hand on top of Rob’s. “Hey, I’m not angry with you. I appreciate your honesty. It’s just, this situation.” She shook her head. “I’m having a flashback.”

  Why else would she have ordered her favorite cocktail from twenty years ago?

  Rob leaned in the tiniest bit, and the line between his eyes softened.

  The first summer after Luke had been born, Abby manned the register at Heart Stone. An ocean sounds CD piped through the shop’s sound system while Luke napped behind the mesh of his Pack ’N Play. Summer boys looking for seasonal hookups would stroll into the shop, zip past the candles with inlaid shells, the collections of mermaids and aquamarine, and head straight for the blonde wearing a snowdrop anemone behind her left ear and a knowing smile.

  Until they figured out that the baby behind the counter was Abby’s, and not Lily Beth’s.

  “When Luke was about four months old, I started to date again and . . .” Abby shrugged. “What would you expect from guys in their late teens and early twenties?”

  “You got the same reaction?”

  Abby pressed a finger to her nose. “Not all of them, but a lot. I used to work at Lily Beth’s shop. Got a lot of boys parading in and out, so I developed a strategy.”

  Abby launched into her routine. “Hi, I’m Abby, and I have a baby. I’m not looking for a baby daddy. My son already has a father. But if my having a kid still freaks you out, then we’ll pretend you didn’t just ask me out. Skim boards are ten dollars. Boogie boards will cost you fifteen.” Unfortunately, the feelings returned along with her practiced speech. Anger and hurt and injured pride. She’d wanted to make sure the door hit those boys on their way out. She’d wanted to stand in the doorway and call them back to her.

  Abby looked straight at Rob. She softened her tone and rephrased to avoid the rude expression from her youth, but the sentiment remained the same. “I’m not looking for a father for Luke’s baby.” She didn’t need anyone to save her. She’d operated as a single parent her entire life, managed to raise a great kid, managed to grow a respected business. Eventually, even those boys looking for summer hookups had grown up, married, and divorced. Men weren’t as squeamish about her having a kid once they had a few of their own.

  So what if she was starting over with a new baby? So what if that status once again deemed her untouchable? She had a lot going for her. Like the rum and Coke Janet had delivered to the table, for instance. Abby gave the alcohol fumes a moment to play with her nose before she gulped down a third of the drink. Straight to her head, just like old times. She scooped a tender mussel from its shell, popped the morsel in her mouth. She savored the juicy shellfish, the bite of garlic, and sunk her teeth into the crusty bread.

  She was going to make one hell of a cat lady. A fat, drunk cat lady.

  Rob put down his fork and offered Abby his hand. “Hi, I’m Rob, and I’m a complete horse’s ass.”

  Abby took his hand and cursed the relief clogging her sinuses.

  Rob leaned close until his nose nuzzled her hair, his mouth warmed her ear, and his choice of words played a mean game with her heart. “If you’ll have me,” he said, “I’d like to start over.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Tessa nestled into the supple leather of Charlie’s cherry-red Jeep, the ocean-scented breeze blowing her hair, straight out of a song about endless summer. Early evening was as bright as midday, but the chill in the air betrayed an undeniable truth. Even July contained a trace of fall, Maine’s way of reminding Tessa she’d better not get too comfortable.

  Nothing good lasted.

  When Tessa had been a kid, she’d spent every July fourth at the UMass Alumni Stadium with her parents. Dad would busy himself spraying Natrapel mosquito repellent around the perimeter of their striped scratchy wool blanket—DEET-free, so that no person or plant would be harmed—and Meredith would sneak Tessa caffeinated soda, so she could stay up late to watch the fireworks. Lying flat on their backs, Tessa and Meredith would try to memorize the great bursting chandeliers of electric light and color breaking the night sky, and Dad would go and ruin the experience by pronouncing the summer nearly over.

  Come winter, a snow day would land Tessa, Dad, and Meredith at Hospital Hill for sledding and hot chocolate. But then, after a good three-person tandem run where Tessa’s heart was racing and her mouth was sweet with cocoa grit, good old Dad would squint through the glaring sun and make an offhanded quip about the upcoming mud season.And right when Tessa had been starting to enjoy carrying a part of Luke inside her, she’d grabbed her father’s hand and pressed it to her belly, so he could feel the baby somersault. A light had flickered in Dad’s eyes, but then it was gone, replaced by his insistence she figure out what the hell she was going to “do about it.”

  Tessa could’ve forgiven her father if he hadn’t called her baby it.

  Charlie s
lowed to look for a spot by Spinney’s, a white clapboard building sporting an ad with a strawberry ice-cream cone, a porch overlooking the ocean, and a full parking lot. He continued down a peninsula and looped around another lot edging the sea.

  “Coming up on your right,” Charlie said, deepening his voice to sound like a tour guide, “is Fort Popham. Used in the Civil War, Spanish American War, and World War I. The massive granite structure, hugely expensive, was never attacked, proving the age-old adage that strength deters intruders. But, many years later, the fort made a really cool playground for little boys who liked to play hide-and-seek with their dads.”

  Charlie glanced Tessa’s way. When her mouth slackened in understanding, his jaw tightened, his chin did a peculiar little dance, and his gaze returned to the road.

  “Little boys like Luke?” Tessa said, although she already knew the answer.

  Charlie’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “E-yup.”

  On their left, a big-ass old person’s car backed out of the spot in front of a Porta-Potty. A yellow smiley-face ball bounced on the car’s silver antenna. “Bingo! Prime real estate.” Charlie raised a hand in greeting to the elderly driver. “Thank you, marvelous Millie!”

  The car paused, as though the driver were momentarily dazzled by Charlie’s greeting. A smile flashed from beneath a head of gray curls. Just for a second Tessa could see beneath the woman’s lines and wrinkles clear to the girl she’d once been.

  Charlie jogged around the Jeep to open the door for Tessa. At the restaurant’s entrance, he held open the door to let her pass first. And when the hostess asked where they’d like to sit, he deferred to Tessa. Then, on their walk to their table with a view of the harbor, he stopped at a table where three women around his age were working on a pitcher of beer, and introduced Tessa as his friend. Big smile on Charlie’s face and personalized compliments for all, and three women jockeyed to gain Charlie’s attention. Three women tried not to notice Tessa’s belly, and failed. Tessa was sure that three women wondered why a local high-school teacher was hanging out with a pregnant teenager.

  Their waitress—a former student of Charlie’s with strawberry-blond hair and freckles across her nose—flushed when she called him Mr. Connors, poured two waters, and left them to consider the menu.

  “You can tell everyone who I am,” Tessa said. “I don’t mind.”

  Charlie jostled his glass of water in a circular motion, so the ice cubes swirled. He took a sip, gave his head a slight shake, and set the glass down on the how-to-eat-a-lobster place mat. He crossed his arms and leaned across the table, close enough for Tessa to mentally erase the tiredness beneath his eyes and the faint lines bracketing his sad smile. Close enough so that, for a whole second, instead of staring into Charlie’s eyes, she was gazing into Luke’s. “What? You’re not my friend, Tessa?”

  “Obviously. I mean, we’re practically related,” she said, her tone laced with disappointment, because as soon as he opened his mouth, he turned back to Charlie. She must’ve been delusional when she’d first heard Charlie’s voice from across Briar Rose and imagined he sounded like Luke.

  Charlie’s voice was smooth, where Luke’s voice carried subtle underlying huskiness. When Luke was excited, he’d talked too fast. The words had spilled out of him faster than his brain could edit. In contrast, Charlie kept an even keel, even though you got the distinct feeling he had barely contained energy just below the surface. You could almost see Charlie reining himself in. And the way Charlie said Tessa’s name, succinct and to the point, as though he were calling on her in his class?

  Nothing like Luke.

  The gravel of Luke’s voice would stroke the two syllables of Tessa’s name, stretch the second syllable into a third, and nearly make her come.

  If that hadn’t been love, then why had it felt so good?

  Luke had been her only lover. But, according to Dad, having a baby set her in the camp of the terminally slutty. Her father hadn’t needed to say it out loud for her to know that’s what he was thinking. Over the years, Dad had never missed an opportunity to point out a teen mom picking up a gallon of milk at Cumberland Farms, strolling along Pleasant Street, or riding the PVTA. Fodder for Dad’s how-to-ruin-your-life lectures. Now, Tessa had become his favorite cautionary tale.

  “Aren’t you worried about gossip?” Tessa swept a finger through her ice water’s condensation, drew and erased an etched-in-glass heart.

  Back in Amherst, everyone knew her story. Clearly, everyone in Hidden Harbor and the surrounding towns would, in about the next five minutes. No matter where she lived, no nice boy would ever love her again. Location didn’t matter.

  Charlie sat back in his chair, cocked his head to the side. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation. People gossip, with or without your help. Why make it easy for them?” He sucked his lips between his teeth, released. “I learned that lesson a long time ago. You got that?”

  “Schadenfreude?” Tessa said, although she sensed she was missing some crucial point. “People love making themselves feel better by gossiping about how much my life sucks. It’s like I’m providing a public service.” She knew how weird people were—kids, adults, everyone. When Tessa had started telling people she was pregnant, this wow look flooded their faces. Not wow, as in, how’d you get so lucky? The wow look suggested they were sad and sympathetic. But also, the wow look meant they were also oddly thrilled.

  Who didn’t enjoy a super-sad tragedy?

  Charlie drummed his fingers on the table, glanced to the side. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “You have nothing to be ashamed of,” he said, as if he could see the worst thing Tessa had ever done. As if he could forgive her.

  “If Luke hadn’t died, I would’ve married him. I wouldn’t have thought twice.”

  “Thank you, Tessa. You’re a good girl,” Charlie said, and Tessa warmed under his gaze.

  Of course that was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. But, right this minute, she totally loved Charlie. She was having a silly romantic fantasy where Luke was alive, they’d had their baby, and they were getting married in a barefoot ceremony down the road on Popham Beach. Charlie would be Luke’s best man. And Abby would be Tessa’s matron of honor. Matron, because six months before Luke and Tessa’s wedding, Abby and Charlie had gotten married, too.

  Improbable wasn’t the same thing as impossible. Different words, different meanings.

  See, Dad, I’m not an idiot. Or a moron. She even knew that was a difference of twenty-six IQ points.

  Her father wanted her to register for the fall semester, glean meaning from the musings of dead writers like Shakespeare and Chaucer, and finagle an independent study project using green goods and found objects to make a relevant statement about society. Wasn’t growing a whole entire person in her body enough of a statement? Couldn’t preparing to give birth imbue her with more knowledge than picking apart the literary bones of the dead?

  “I really like it here with you and Abby,” Tessa said.

  Why couldn’t she stay in Hidden Harbor until the baby was born? The tiny seaside town was about as far away from academia as you could get. A week of breathing in sea and sand, and falling asleep to the lull of waves had already done her good. Even with the added baby weight, she felt lighter, stripped down, and closer to her center. Closer to Luke.

  Why shouldn’t she stay with Abby and Charlie?

  “I just, you know—” Tessa hiked her shoulders to her ears on a sharp intake of breath, dropped them on an exhale. “Wish Luke was here, too.” Tessa searched Charlie’s face to see whether he’d gotten the Pink Floyd reference, but his expression didn’t waver.

  Charlie tapped two fingers against his chin. “Friends are straight with each other,” he said, and she wasn’t sure whether he’d asked her a question, so she didn’t bother answering. Charlie unwrapped his silverware from the paper napkin, set his fork, spoon, and knife in parallel rows. “Abby and I are really excited about the baby. Things have been rough, and you’ve made us ha
ppy again.”

  Tessa nodded. She noticed the way Charlie made it sound as though he and Abby were still a couple.

  She translated things to the-fact-our-son-is-dead.

  The fried-clams aroma from the next table tickled the back of her throat. She sipped her water. Ice cubes bumped up against her lips, shot pain through the gum line above her front teeth. Another stellar side effect of pregnancy. Right when she needed to feel less, she felt more. Tessa ran her tongue along her gum line, numbing the ache.

  “You know Luke was a surprise, right?”

  “I did the math,” Tessa said, sounding totally bitchy, and not caring how she sounded.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out Charlie and Abby hadn’t tried to get pregnant when they were seniors in high school, any more than she and Luke had tried to get pregnant in college. But late one night, Luke had shared a heck of a lot more about his parents.

  Alone in Tessa’s dorm room, Luke had laid his head on her stomach and told her everything about Abby and Charlie. Not just about their on-again off-again relationship, but about how it had affected him.

  That had been the second most important thing Luke had ever given her.

  “When Abby first told me she was pregnant,” Charlie said, “I didn’t take it well. I was getting ready to head off to college, and the idea of a baby freaked me out.”

  “You didn’t want to change your life,” Tessa said, thinking of how her father didn’t want Tessa to change hers either.

  Half of Tessa wanted to hear Charlie’s side of the story, the other half wanted to stick her fingers in her ears and sing, Ladi-da, I can’t hear you. Charlie’s story was messing with Tessa’s what-if-Luke-were-alive fantasy. The one where Luke found out she was pregnant and didn’t bolt.

  Charlie’s hand wavered above the place mat, as though he were tempted to strike the table with the heel of his hand. “No excuses. I acted like a jerk.”

  The regret in Charlie’s eyes swelled Tessa’s throat. “Okay,” she said, and her voice came out muffled.