Secrets in Summer

by Nancy Thayer

  Darcy shut the front door, walked through her house, and went down the steps to her garden. She wanted to replay this evening in her thoughts. Something had changed between her and Nash. Something had deepened. He was trusting her more…and she was trusting him more, too.

  She settled in her lounger and looked up at the sky. The lights were mostly out at the Brueckners’ house. No more music drifted from the Rushes’. It was completely dark, but not completely quiet. She let her thoughts drift down to the harbor and her conversation with Nash. He had been…

  Something rustled in the bushes, and then, from the Szwedas’ yard came sounds of…sex? Darcy froze. On the other side of the hedge, in the corner of the yard, a tall maple towered, its sturdy branches extending over both yards. Its wide trunk and roots would make a good hideaway, a resting place. Or a lovemaking nest. But would Boyz and Autumn really have sex outside in the yard? Boyz had never been that fond of nature.

  “No, Logan, stop. I’m not ready.”

  Darcy’s breath caught in her throat. It had to be Willow.

  “Come on, baby. You’re so beautiful.” Logan’s voice was like melted chocolate.

  “I can’t. I have to go in. This grass itches my back. And everyone’s home.”

  “No one can see you, babe. Here, I’ll put my shirt under you so your back won’t itch. I’ll take off my shirt, you take off yours. Nice trade, don’t you think?”

  They stopped talking. Darcy heard moaning. She was hot with embarrassment and angry and frustrated. Willow was fourteen! She wanted to stand on top of the picnic table and yell at Logan to leave the girl alone. If Logan got Willow to have sex, wouldn’t that be considered statutory rape?

  Anxiety gripped Darcy. Her mind worked overtime. She had to believe that Autumn and Boyz had discussed sex with their daughter. Still, should Darcy phone the Szwedas’ house and tell them what was going on in their backyard? Would she be helping or interfering? Was she overreacting because Willow was Boyz’s stepdaughter? No, she knew she would worry about anyone’s adolescent girl.

  “Logan, no! Stop! Something’s jabbing my back.”

  “Here, baby, let me—”

  “No. Not here. Not with my parents nearby.”

  More rustling noises. Their voices had changed. They sounded as if they were standing up.

  “Let’s go to my truck,” Logan urged. “You can’t leave me like this. You make me want you too much.”

  More kissing sounds, and then Willow said, “I’ve got to go in, Logan.”

  Darcy heard two doors slam—Willow going into the house, Logan getting into his truck. She relaxed and went into her own house. It took her a long time to fall asleep.

  8

  Monday morning, Darcy stocked up for the week ahead. At this time of year, her meals were mostly salads or slow cooker, though she tried to get fresh fish from Sayle’s two or three times a week. She also needed the normal household items—toilet paper, laundry soap, milk, and of course kitty litter and canned food for Muffler.

  Last year Stop & Shop had renovated their building, making it larger and more confusing. She found herself retracing her steps, trying to find olives, lemons, and a block of Parmesan cheese.

  She was in the meat section—rump roast was on sale, and if she made a stew in her slow cooker, she’d have dinner prepared for most of the week—when she felt a presence, and heard Boyz say “Darcy?”

  She turned to face him. “Boyz.”

  Her first reaction was that he had never changed, this man she had loved and married and divorced. He was still drop-dead handsome—tall, lean, with platinum hair. After a moment of gazing at him, as he was at her, she noticed changes. His hair was shorter than when she was married to him, sheared into some sort of edgy, bristly brush cut, and he was much thinner. He was pushing a grocery cart, so he looked casual and domestic, but he wore a peach polo shirt with the collar turned up and madras shorts—madras shorts, what a peacock he was.

  He was bowlegged. Why had she never noticed that before? His legs were thin, like a crane’s; his knees were knobby. In shorts, this usually elegant man looked ridiculous.

  She had known that sometime this summer they were bound to meet, and she regretted that it was now, when she was wearing sandals and a not-too-racy high-necked sleeveless sundress. She never knew when she’d run into one of the library’s benefactors and she always wanted to make an appropriate impression. That did not mean, however, a sexy impression, and for a moment, she was sorry about that. She would have liked Boyz to be stabbed with desire and regret.

  Maybe he was. “You look great,” Boyz said, after doing a rapid up and down eye scan of her body. “But what are you doing here?”

  “I live here,” Darcy told him. “My grandmother died and left me her house.”

  “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m the assistant children’s librarian at the Atheneum.”

  “Well, hey, you always wanted to work in a library. I’m glad for you.”

  They stared at each other in silence then, simply looking, caught in a bubble of time. Darcy assumed Boyz was assessing her as she was assessing him. Wondering if that person was truly the person she’d embraced and cried and laughed and argued with.

  Boyz seemed like a stranger. Felt like a stranger to Darcy. They had married too quickly, swept along by a tide of infatuation with themselves, with being young, passionate, impetuous. Their divorce had been oddly tranquil. Darcy had signed a prenup, and she hadn’t wanted anything material. She had wished she could have kept Lena’s friendship, but the moment Boyz told his family about their plans to divorce, the Szwedas, even Lena, had dropped her as if she’d never mattered to them at all.

  Behind Darcy, a woman snapped impatiently, “Excuse me, but I need to get to the sirloin.”

  “Oh, sorry.” Darcy moved her cart so that it was next to Boyz’s. He might feel like a stranger to her, and he had been an unfaithful shit, but she knew she should tell him where she lived and what she could hear. “Actually, Boyz, it’s very strange, but my grandmother’s house is on Pine Street. Right behind the house you’re in for the summer.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “Not kidding,” Darcy said. “I’ve lived here for three years.”

  “Really.” Boyz broke into his great sparkling smile. “I wish I had known that. We’re considering opening a branch of our office here, so I rented a house for two months. I want to check the place out, see if it’s a good fit. You always talked about your grandmother’s house. Maybe I can come over for a drink sometime. You can, um, give me the scoop on the housing market.”

  Darcy couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “Same old Boyz. Sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t know much about real estate here, except that it’s expensive. But, Boyz, I want to tell you about something totally off the subject of real estate.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Boyz leaned in closer to Darcy, fixing his blue gaze on her face.

  Darcy took a step back. “I often sit on my patio next to the hedge between my yard and yours, and I can overhear what goes on in your yard.”

  Boyz shrugged. “So?”

  An older gentleman coughed. “You gonna be there all day? You’re blocking the aisle.”

  “Sorry.” Once again, Darcy moved her cart. “Boyz, over in that corner, there’s a kind of small café. Let’s go there and talk a moment, okay?”

  Boyz grinned. “I’ll go ‘talk’ with you anywhere.”

  “Oh, get over yourself,” Darcy chided. “It’s not about you and me. It concerns Willow.”

  Without waiting to see if he would follow, Darcy aimed her cart down a long aisle toward the café. Once there, she turned.

  Boyz shoved his cart to one side and approached Darcy, his face wary.

  “What about Willow?”

  “Boyz, I think you should know what I heard through the hedge this week. Willow has a boyfriend, a boy named Logan Smith, an island boy. He’s eighteen years old and a
troublemaker. He’s handsome and he’s charismatic, and I overheard him trying to get Willow to have sex with him the other night. In your backyard.”

  Boyz frowned. He pulled out a chair at one of the small white café tables. “Sit down with me a moment, Darcy.”

  She perched on the end of the chair.

  He took a seat across from her. He still had the same tell, the sign that gave away a devious turn in his thoughts. He always patted the top of his chest, as if smoothing his tie, whether he wore a tie or not. “I hope you’re not still angry with me.”

  “What? Because of your…the divorce? No. I’m all over that.” Darcy smiled to prove it.

  “Good. Because I wouldn’t want to think you’d do something to get back at me. To hurt me, or Autumn.”

  Darcy laughed in surprise. “No. No, Boyz, I’m not fabricating what I told you about Willow for some twisted, jealous reason.” She took a deep breath. She lowered her voice and changed course. “Boyz, I’m glad you and Autumn are happy. I have no anger, no resentment. I’m happy, too. My life is full.”

  He looked skeptical. “Okay, but frankly, Darcy, I don’t know what to believe about what you think you overheard. I love Willow. I’ve legally adopted her. She is my own daughter. Autumn and I are caring, watchful parents. We know what’s going on with her.”

  “But—”

  “So if you want to spend some time with me, let’s just do it. You don’t have to make up excuses.” He reached over to take her hand in his. “I always enjoyed being with you, Darcy.”

  How had this all gone so wrong so fast, Darcy wondered. She jerked her hand away from his and stood up. “Boyz, I didn’t invent what I told you about Willow. And I won’t ‘make up excuses’ to see you again. But you have to realize that I’m out in my garden a lot, weeding, watering, sitting with friends. I’m not going to hide in the house all summer.”

  Boyz rose, too. “Please don’t,” he urged. “Believe me, it would be—nice—for us to be back in touch with each other again.”

  “Oh, Boyz.” There really were no right words, so Darcy shook her head and pushed her cart away, fast, right into the aisle that held diapers and Depends.

  Darcy hurriedly chose and paid for her groceries, hoping she wouldn’t see Boyz again. She didn’t, thank heavens. Their exchange had rattled her. It had made her feel defensive—she hadn’t been trying to flirt with him! Had he even heard what she’d said about Willow?

  Safely settled in the everyday nest of her car, she picked up her cellphone and called Jordan.

  “Can I come see you? Now? I just ran into Boyz in the grocery store.”

  “No, you did not.”

  “I did.”

  “Oh, good grief! Of course. Come over now.”

  Today when Darcy arrived at Jordan’s house, her friend was in the backyard, watching her daughter, Kiks, sitting in a round blue baby swimming pool. It had only about three inches of water in it, but that was enough for Kiks to splash with her hands, shrieking with delight.

  “She’ll go down for a nap pretty soon,” Jordan said. “But I can’t wait. Tell me.”

  “I was in Stop & Shop.” Darcy sat on the grass next to Jordan. “We simply bumped into each other, almost literally bumping carts. He wore madras Bermuda shorts, Jordan! And he has the silliest knobby knees, like a flamingo!”

  Kiks giggled and clapped, as if she understood Darcy’s words, and continued to slap her rubber ducky down under the water, shrieking when it bobbed up again.

  “So you absolutely are over him, then,” Jordan remarked.

  “I’m so over him, the fact that I married him makes me doubt my sanity.”

  “You didn’t experience even the tiniest rush of attraction?”

  “God, no! I can’t explain it. It was so bizarre, like staring at a fun house mirror, one of those wavery ones that makes you look all out of shape. But the ickiest thing was when I told him about his stepdaughter, Willow, and Logan Smith— he thought I was making it up!”

  Kiks tossed her rubber ducky onto the grass. Darcy picked it up and put it back in the water. She did this probably fifty times while she described the entire conversation in detail to Jordan. By the time she finished, Kiks was getting fretful, rubbing her eyes and getting water in her nose in the process.

  “Nap time for baby,” Jordan said. She picked her daughter up, wrapped her in a towel, and headed for the house. “Come in. I’ll rock her for five minutes, then put her down. You can make us some iced tea.”

  Performing the normal household ritual of boiling the water, pouring the water over Jordan’s favorite Earl Grey leaves, setting the mugs on the kitchen table all calmed Darcy. Outside, the day was hot. Here, in the shady kitchen, it was cool, gravity still held the chairs to the floor, and Jordan hadn’t done the breakfast dishes. The world went on as normal. Darcy did the dishes while Jordan was with Kiks. She sprayed the counters with antibacterial cleanser and wiped them down. The room smelled pleasantly of lemon.

  “Oh, you are a mother’s dream,” Jordan said, when she came in without her baby. “Thanks for doing the dishes.”

  “Consider it my payment for psychotherapy.” Darcy dropped ice cubes into colorful outdoor glasses and poured the tea. They settled at the kitchen table. “If I hadn’t been able to vent to you, I hate to think what I might have done. It makes me so angry that he completely dismissed what I said about Willow.”

  Jordan sipped her tea, cocked her head, and looked wise. “Are any of his family coming to visit? Are you still friends with any of them—the sisters, maybe?”

  “I wish. I don’t know. The first year, I missed Irena and Lena. I think I enjoyed being with them more than with Boyz. They were nice to me. His parents were always stuck-up. We’re out of touch now, not even a Christmas card.” Darcy stirred her tea. “Jordan, what should I do? About Willow, I mean.”

  “I think you have to let it go,” Jordan said. “If Boyz doesn’t believe you, what can you do? He told you they were good parents, he might pay closer attention to what Willow’s doing, but you’ve got to stay out of it.”

  “She’s a vulnerable young girl—”

  “But not your young girl.”

  “Still…it makes me feel uneasy.”

  “Get over it. Forget it. Let’s move on to the good stuff—like when’s your date with Clive Rush?”

  Darcy laughed. “It’s not a date, Jordan. Or if it is, we’ve got our own version of a duenna. Mimi is coming with us.” As she talked, her fears for Willow dissipated and her own life filled her thoughts. “It’s tomorrow night. And I’ve planned my menu around Mimi. I hope the weather holds and we can eat in the backyard. I don’t want to embarrass her by serving something she has to cut, like steak, because I’m not sure how strong her hands are. So I’m making a casserole of rice, shrimp, scallops, and bacon. I thought of linguini, but that might be tricky for Mimi, too. It’s hard to wind those noodles onto a fork….And no salad greens, especially arugula, because it’s impossible to eat elegantly. Bartlett’s tomatoes, sliced.”

  “Sounds delicious, Darcy. What’s for dessert?”

  “Cups of cold chocolate mousse. Gosh, I’d better stop talking and go home and start cooking. I work tomorrow, so I’ll have to prepare the mousse today.” She rose and took her car keys from her tote.

  “Have you told Nash you’ve got a date?” Jordan asked.

  “Jordan, it’s not a date!” Darcy sank back down into her chair. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. No, I haven’t told Nash, but do I need to? We’re not exclusive—we haven’t said the magic L word. I’m absolutely not going to have sex with Clive tomorrow night. Mimi will be with us all the time.”

  Jordan gave Darcy a long, challenging look.

  “Okay, fine,” Darcy capitulated. “I’ll tell Nash tonight. But it’s not a date.”

  —

  Darcy didn’t want to tell Nash face-to-face because she was afraid she’d blush or look guilty or seem as if she was trying to manipulate Nash into being jealous
and forcing him to tell her he wanted them to date each other exclusively. She didn’t want him to feel caged, and she didn’t want to feel caged, either. Okay, what she had with Nash sexually was like nothing else she’d ever known, but she’d hardly had a lot of sexual partners, and anyway, sex wasn’t everything!

  She spent the day preparing for Tuesday night, then showered and washed her hair and finally, with a glass of wine in her hand, she hit Nash’s number. It was dusk outside; he would be home.

  “Hey,” Nash answered. “I was getting ready to call you.”

  “How was your day?” Darcy asked.

  “Unusual.” Nash laughed. He was part of a crew working on the roof of a huge new house. They’d finished putting up the scaffolding and got up on the roof to shingle, and Juan, a huge, strong guy from the Dominican Republic, who could carry twice the weight of any other man, discovered that he had acrophobia. He’d never been up so high before, and when he looked out at the view, he became paralyzed. He couldn’t move up, down, or sideways. It had taken the better part of an hour for Nash and another man to get on either side of him, keep their hands on Juan’s arm, and slowly back him down to the staging platform. It was funny, but it was also scary, because each of the guys helping Juan could use only one hand to keep purchase on the roof, and moving Juan was like tugging a grand piano. Then, when they finally got Juan down to the staging platform, he threw up. The crew had to deal with hosing it all down, and that was disgusting. When Juan’s feet finally touched the ground, he fell over in a dead faint, coming one inch from a metal rod that could have slammed open his skull. They turned the hose on Juan to shock him out of his faint.

  “Now,” Nash said, when they stopped laughing, “tell me about your day.”

  Darcy took a sip of wine. A big sip. She and Nash had exchanged the briefest of romantic histories. He knew she’d been married and divorced. She knew he’d spent some time traveling around the country with a woman named Buffy. Darcy had restrained herself from any remarks about vampires, and she was secretly glad to know Buffy was now traveling in Europe. She wanted to tell Nash about her accidental meeting with Boyz in the grocery store today, but that was all so much. Too much for a casual phone call. Nash probably hadn’t even had dinner yet.