Heat Wave

by Nancy Thayer

  “Wyatt’s taking us sailing!” Cisco announced happily.

  “Oh, how nice.” Carley shut the lid of the washing machine. “I’ll get Margaret ready.”

  “Get yourself ready, too,” Wyatt told her.

  “Oh, Wyatt, I’d love to go, but I’ve got—”

  “Just a few hours,” Wyatt insisted. “It will be good for you. You’re turning into a drudge.”

  “I am not!” Carley objected.

  Cisco giggled, glancing at Wyatt with a conspiratorial smile. “Actually, Mom, you are.”

  Cisco was smiling. Cisco was teasing Carley. Cisco wanted Carley to join them sailing. How could Carley resist? Wyatt was working some kind of magic.

  She flashed him a smile. “I’ll get ready.”

  As they rode out to Madaket in Wyatt’s convertible, the sun flashing down on them, the breeze fluttering their hair, Carley laid her head back against the seat and allowed the warmth and fresh air to ease into her bones. Wyatt had a Beach Boys CD playing, and for the first time this season, Carley was really there in the magic of summer. At Wyatt’s house, everyone, even little Margaret, helped carry things out to the rowboat and lift them onto Wyatt’s twenty-two-foot day sailer. Carley helped Wyatt rig the boat. She double-checked the life vests on her daughters, zipped one on her own body, then settled down to watch Wyatt steer them out of the harbor.

  The wind was fresh and fickle, not too strong or steady. Wyatt’s attentions stayed with the boat. Occasionally he gave an order to Cisco or Margaret, who scurried to obey.

  “Open the cooler, Carley,” Wyatt called when they were out in the open water. “I’ve got beer for me and Cava for you.”

  “What do you have for us?” Margaret asked.

  Wyatt grinned. “Check it out.”

  Margaret lifted the lid and squealed. “Popsicles!”

  In a terribly responsible voice, Wyatt said, “Made of fruit juice, Carley.”

  At that moment, Carley didn’t think she would have cared if they were made of pure sugar. She poured the sparkling wine into a plastic cup and sipped it. Bliss. The hot July sun shone down and the playful breeze swept the boat along. The water leapt and hissed and sparkled all around them. She stripped off the life jacket and shirt she’d pulled on over her bikini and let the heat melt her. She closed her eyes.

  When they neared Great Point, Wyatt dropped the sail. “Lunchtime, ladies. Carley, don’t move. We’ll bring you everything you need.”

  “I can deal with that,” she murmured.

  Wyatt had picked up several varieties of sandwiches and chips at Something Natural. Margaret handed them around. The girls sat on the bow, legs folded, to eat their lunch. Carley lounged, sipping her wine, enjoying her food, deeply content to see both her daughters eating hungrily, chatting together about the trucks on the beach, the other boats in the water, squealing when they saw someone catch a large bluefish.

  “This is a sensational idea, Wyatt,” Carley said gratefully.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  She studied Wyatt. He was deeply tanned, and more specks of silver glittered in his brown hair. He’d always been lean, but he’d lost some weight during the past year. They all had.

  She lowered her voice. “How’s it going, Wyatt?”

  He thought for a moment. “To be honest, I’m a little concerned about Russell. He works constantly, more than he ever did.”

  “I can understand that,” Carley said. “I’m finding it really helpful to have to hustle at the B&B. It keeps me from brooding. It gives me a purpose. And I suppose it gives me a sense of control. I don’t feel quite so helpless.”

  Wyatt nodded thoughtfully. “Okay. I see that. At the office, we’ve got piles of Gus’s work to take care of. Still … last summer Russell played a lot of golf. Went sailing. Played some tennis. But this summer, he isn’t doing anything to relax. It’s as if he thinks he doesn’t deserve to enjoy life.”

  “I feel that way sometimes. When I catch myself feeling happy, suddenly I’ll be overwhelmed with a sense of guilt. How can I be happy when Gus is dead?”

  “Gus would want you to be happy. He’d want his girls to be happy, all his girls.” Wyatt reached over and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her next to him. He smiled down at her, and his eyes were warm.

  “And you,” Carley reminded him. “Gus would want you to be happy, too.”

  She knew Wyatt meant to console her, so she was startled by her body’s reaction to the touch of his skin on hers. Signals zipped through her body that had nothing to do with grief or sorrow and everything to do with the appetites of the flesh.

  Carley was intensely aware of her near-nakedness, here in the sun in her bikini. She could see beads of sweat glisten on the brown hair on Wyatt’s legs and arms and on his flat torso.

  “Mom?” The girls were scrambling down from the bow. “We’re getting hot.”

  Carley laughed in response to the inadvertent pun of their words. She flushed with embarrassment, and rose, stumbling as the wake of another boat rocked the sailboat.

  “Right,” she called. “We’ll get the captain to give us some breeze.”

  She helped Wyatt with the sheet as he raised the sail, and in moments the boat was skipping over the water. The girls leaned out, hoping to glimpse something in the water—a whale, a fish, a mermaid.

  Wyatt sailed them leisurely back to Madaket, taking time to show them where the ocean had shifted the shoals, creating sandbars in unexpected places. He demonstrated his GPS system and explained how he turned it off when he fished because he thought the fish finder option took the challenge from fishing. Margaret sat on his lap while he talked and Cisco leaned over his shoulder. The girls laughed, and for a moment, they looked like a family.

  Immediately Carley shook herself. What the hell was she doing? How could she even think about Gus’s best friend this way?

  Cisco had her hand on Wyatt’s bare shoulder to steady herself as she peered over to study the GPS. The line of Wyatt’s neck and wide, strong back compelled Carley. She wanted to put her hand there, too.

  She wanted to put her mouth there.

  She wanted to lick the spot on his neck where sweat sparkled, just where his wavy brown hair ended.

  Cisco turned. “Mom, you should come look at this!”

  Carley flinched at her daughter’s sudden gaze, as if Cisco could see her thoughts.

  “Oh, okay,” Carley answered, hoping her voice sounded normal. The boat wasn’t moving, but she trembled as she stood up.

  She crossed the few steps and, taking care not to touch Wyatt, leaned over to see the GPS. “Cool,” she said, although her heart was fluttering in her chest and she could hardly see.

  A fog drifted toward them from over the water as it often did at the end of the day.

  “We’d better go on in,” Wyatt told them.

  Carley quickly resumed her seat.

  They finished the sail, Wyatt concentrating on navigating through the sandbars and eelgrass into the harbor.

  “Mom, look!” Cisco said, sitting next to Carley and pointing upward.

  Carley looked. Long feathery cirrus clouds floated in the blue sky, their tips tinged pale pink by the sun.

  “It looks like heaven up there, doesn’t it?” Cisco asked.

  Margaret scrambled onto Carley’s lap. “Is Daddy up there, maybe?”

  Carley nestled her chin into her daughter’s hair. Margaret smelled like sunblock, sunshine, and sugar. “I think he is, sweetheart.”

  Carley set her girls about various tasks, picking up any papers, handing the coolers and beach bags down to the rowboat, unzipping the life jackets and stowing them in the cabin. She was uncomfortably aware of Wyatt’s every move. She pulled on her shirt and felt less vulnerable to her raging thoughts. As they lugged their gear to his convertible and dropped their beach bags into the trunk, Carley’s arm brushed Wyatt’s. Once again she experienced a flash of lust so powerful it took her breath away. She couldn’t help it. She looked
at Wyatt to see if he felt it, too.

  Wyatt’s sunglasses and cap shaded his face, but his jaw was clenched and he averted his face quickly, pretending to search the ground around them.

  “Anything else for the trunk?” he asked. His voice was hoarse.

  He feels it, too, Carley thought. At the same time, she thought, Oh, stop this, you nutcase.

  They drove home along Madaket Road, with music soaring over them, making conversation impossible. At the house, she forced herself to look at Wyatt, because she would naturally look at him.

  “Wyatt, thank you for this fabulous day.”

  Wyatt was already out of the car. He reached in and lifted Margaret out.

  “Yay, Wyatt, thank you!” Margaret said, hugging him. Cisco climbed out. “Thank you, Wyatt.”

  They gathered around the trunk once more to collect their beach bags.

  “Wyatt,” Carley heard herself say, as if she were a puppet being operated by a maniac, “would you like to come in? Stay for dinner?”

  Wyatt didn’t look at her. “Thanks, Carley. Another time. I’ve got plans for tonight.”

  Carley felt herself flush all over with humiliation. Of course he had plans for tonight! He was dating Angie Matthews! A little sun and fresh air had transformed Carley into a pathetic old widowed slut! Here he had been innocently trying to give his best friend’s daughters a pleasant day and Carley had turned it into some sick sex fantasy.

  “Oh, right, well, have fun tonight, and tell Angie hello for me, and thanks again, Wyatt!” she babbled. “Come on, girls, into the shower first of all.” She ushered her girls up the walk toward the house. She didn’t look back. She heard Wyatt start the car and drive away.

  24

  • • • • •

  Rain streamed down steadily for the second day in a row. The sky, the air, everything was gray, wet, and steaming in the early August heat. Making beds and laying out fresh towels in the guest rooms gave Carley a few moments’ comfort in the air-conditioned rooms, though at the same time she fretted at the thought of her electric bill. She considered turning the air conditioners off—all the guests had left for the day—but decided against it. When they returned to their rooms, they would want instant relief from the humidity in the cool, dry air. And they were paying for it.

  She lugged a basket of towels to the laundry room. She transferred a pile of soggy clothing to the dryer and filled the washing machine. She folded the dry clothes, sorting as she went through them. Tomorrow the girls were leaving for a week with their grandparents in New York. They were flying by themselves from Nantucket to New York, where Marilyn and Keith would meet them, and Carley was tied in knots of anxiety about the trip. Of course the girls would be okay. The flight was nonstop. In July, Cisco had had a birthday, and now she was thirteen, and she had vowed to be sweet as pie to her little sister. She would be, too, Carley was sure of that. They would be in the air less than an hour. Cisco had a cell phone. Marilyn and Keith had cell phones. The girls would be fine.

  “Here you are!” a woman said.

  Carley jumped. “Maud! You surprised me.”

  “I called your name. Where are the girls?”

  “With Annabel and Russell. They spent the night over there because tomorrow they’re going to fly down to visit their other grandparents.”

  “Good. I haven’t had a good long chat with you in forever! Carley, how are you?”

  Carley stared at Maud, who wore shorts, a sequined little peasant shirt, and rhinestone-adorned sandals. Carley was suddenly aware of her limp hair, sweaty work clothes, and especially of the sneakers she wore because they gave her support when she was doing housework. More than that, Maud looked so damned happy and healthy, glowing, as if her body was radiating some kind of aura that only happened when one was madly in love.

  When one was madly loved.

  “Busy.” Carley knew she sounded petulant.

  Maud tsked. “You can stop for a cup of coffee. Sit down. I’ll make it. With ice and cream and some chocolate sprinkled on top.”

  “Mmm.” Carley had to admit she could use some of that. She followed Maud into the kitchen, which Maud knew as well as her own.

  “Put your feet up,” Maud ordered.

  “There’s some fairly fresh coffee in the—”

  “And ice in the freezer, right? I think I can figure it out.”

  Carley grinned. Relaxing, she stretched. “How are you, Maud?”

  “Happy. Crazy busy.” Maud took down two tall glasses. She fished cubes out of the ice container in the freezer and dropped them into the glasses. “Honestly, I’d forgotten how much I hate August. The traffic is a snarl, the grocery store parking lot is impossible, and the boys are wild with energy. And I’ve got a ton of book stuff to do.”

  “How’s Toby?”

  “Don’t ask.” Maud poured coffee over the ice cubes. Returning to the refrigerator, she searched out the cream and added it to the coffee, then added sugar, real sugar.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, because there are about a million more people here in August and the hospital’s crowded and his practice is overloaded. He comes home exhausted.” Stretching to find the chocolate in Carley’s cupboard, she continued, dreamily, “Well, not too exhausted. We have to wait until the boys are in bed, of course, and then we have to be quiet, even though we’re in a wing at the other end of the house.” She took the grater out of a drawer, shaved off tiny flakes of chocolate, and sprinkled them on top of the coffee. “There.” She set a glass in front of Carley and sank into a chair.

  “This is delicious. Just what I need. Thanks.” Carley held the cold glass to her forehead for a moment. It was weird to hear about Vanessa’s ex-husband with Maud.

  “You’re welcome. But it’s not just sex, Carley, it’s everything. He’s so helpful. He fixes things, he owns his own hammer! You should see our garage, it’s turning into a workshop, and he has the boys ‘help’ him. He’s made one wall into a tool area. ‘Hand me the wrench,’ he’ll say to Spenser, and Spenser will find it in the big box of tools Toby brought over, and he’ll hold it steady while Percy draws the outline around it. So the boys are learning guy things, like the names of tools.” Maud was radiant.

  “I’m so glad, Maud,” Carley said, and she really was. Spenser and Percy needed a man in their lives.

  “Last week? The boys had taken their showers, and they came into the living room to say good night and Percy said, ‘Mommy, the end of my penis hurts,’ and I almost collapsed with fright. I thought he had some rare horrible penis disease.” Seeing Carley’s face, she held up her hand. “Don’t laugh! Do I have a penis? Before I could freak out, Toby said, ‘Percy, go to the bathroom and pee. Sometimes soap gets up inside and irritates your skin.’ And Percy peed, and everything was okay! How even with my genius imagination, could I have ever known about that?”

  “Good for you, Maud. Good for the boys.”

  “Good for Toby, too. He loves the boys. Seriously. He gives them piggyback rides to bed, and roughhouses with them and reads them stories at night. He loves being a father. We’re all so truly happy together.” Maud sipped her coffee. “Okay. Enough about me. Tell me about you. How are you doing?”

  The concern in Maud’s voice was a balm. “I think I’m okay. August is overwhelming me, too. I had no idea how much work it would be to run a little B&B. Not just the physical stuff of cleaning and cooking, but the paperwork. Tax forms and credit card rules and keeping records. Oh, it makes my head hurt. But it keeps me from fretting about Gus. I mean, I think of him all the time, but I can’t mope.”

  “And the girls?”

  “They’re doing all right, I think. Cisco’s seeing a counselor, not that she ever tells me about her sessions. Lauren is teaching her to ride, and Cis loves it. She seems to be transferring her ballet obsession over to horses. She’s even hinting about having her own horse. Lauren would board it—”

  “Oh, God, Carley, I should do that!”

  “Do what?
Board horses?”

  “No, help with your kids. Look, whenever Cisco goes out to Lauren’s to ride, drop Margaret over at my house. She can play with the boys. Maybe she’ll even civilize them.”

  “That would be great, Maud. Thanks. The girls will be gone for a week, but when they get back, I’ll do it.”

  “Good.” Maud cocked her head. “Do you ever think about men, Carley?”

  “Gus hasn’t been dead for even a year, Maud.”

  “It’s been eight months. Plus, you thought about men when he was alive. We all did.”

  “We fantasized about movie stars. That’s different from ‘thinking about men.’ ” Carley lifted her glass to her lips, hoping to hide the flush she felt stain her cheeks. “I don’t have time to think about men or sex or dating or anything like that.”

  “You’re going to have an empty house for a week.”

  “Hardly. I have all three rooms solidly booked.”

  “I mean your girls will be gone. You’ll have privacy.”

  “You think I should wander down to a bar and pick up a stranger and bring him home?”

  “Might not be the worst thing you could do for yourself.” Maud leaned forward. “Carley, you used to be different.”

  “Of course I was!” Carley shot back. “I wasn’t a widow!”

  “No, even before Gus died, you had kind of lost something. A sparkle. An exuberance.”

  Defensively, Carley snapped, “Not everyone can vamp around like Angelina Jolie, stealing another woman’s man!”

  Maud recoiled. “Vanessa’s the one who looks like Angelina Jolie.”

  For a while they sat in silence.

  Carley gave in first. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t,” Maud told her. “You were only reacting. Still, I think I hit a nerve.”

  Carley squirmed. “Maud, of course I ‘lost my sparkle.’ Gus was depressed. He was totally fixated on money. He’d made bad investments, and then he made more bad investments. He gambled and lost the girls’ college funds. Our savings are gone. He even borrowed money from Wyatt.”