Island Summer Love

by Amy Belding Brown

  “Oh.” Allison felt a flutter of consternation. “May I speak with Cabot, please?”

  “Who’s calling, please?”

  “Allison. Allison Curtis.”

  There was a long pause. From the dead hum on the line, Allison realized she’d been put on hold. Finally she heard Cabot’s voice.

  “Allison?”

  “Yes. Cabot, who was that woman?”

  She heard the trace of a laugh in his voice. “That’s Pia. You know, my father’s secretary. Did you get my message?”

  “I didn’t know Pia worked for you, too.”

  “What did you want, darling?” She sensed impatience behind his meticulously chosen words.

  “I was hoping you could come sooner. I really miss you a lot. I need you—” Something choked her. She felt a hot, burning sensation on the back of her neck. She turned to look over her shoulder, and her eyes widened in surprise. Brent was standing at the checkout counter, fishing bills out of his wallet.

  “Didn’t you get my message?” Cabot’s voice was sharp.

  Allison swiveled quickly back to face the phone. “Yes, I . . . I was just hoping that you could get away in the next day or two.”

  Cabot sighed. “I’ll come as soon as I can, darling. You don’t seem to have any idea of how delicate this situation is.” There was a short pause. “I’m afraid I’ll have to hang up now. I’ve got a call on another line.”

  “Will you at least think about it, Cabot? I really miss you.” Her voice was whiny; it sounded unpleasant even to her own ears.

  “I miss you, too, darling. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” He hung up before she had a chance to tell him how much she loved him.

  She slowly replaced the phone in its cradle. She saw that her hand was shaking, and tucked it quickly into the pocket of her jeans before she turned.

  Brent was standing only a few feet away from her, holding a large paper bag in his left arm. “Are you okay?” His voice was low. “You look like you just received some bad news.”

  She forced herself to look straight at him and smile. “No, I’m fine. Honestly.”

  “I couldn’t help overhearing, Allison. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you?” She felt a bud of anger open in the base of her chest. “I would have thought you’d be quite pleased that I couldn’t get my fiancé to come earlier than expected. I would have thought that’s just what you wanted.” She felt her face reddening. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you seem to know everything about my life! Or that you don’t have any compunctions about eavesdropping on my telephone conversations!” Her breath was coming in short, shallow gasps. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I happen to have work to do.” She started to move past him, but he shifted to the left, blocking her with his body. She was trapped between the phone console and a shelf of canned vegetables.

  He stepped closer. “Allison, don’t push me away. I just want to help.”

  Her eyes stung suddenly. “Thank you very much, but I can handle things just fine on my own. Now, please let me go.”

  He moved then, and let her march stiffly past him, but she knew he was watching her all the way down the aisle and out the door. When she returned to Isabel’s house, she ran up to her room, flung herself on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. She wept for a long time, and when Isabel called her for supper, three hours later, her face was still red and swollen from her tears.

  Allison was grateful that neither Abel nor Isabel mentioned her looks. Martha gave her an occasional curious glance, but was too absorbed in detailing a blow-by-blow description of her hospital stay to ask any questions. By the time the meal was over, Allison felt better. Her overreaction was probably just hunger, she told herself, as she helped Isabel clear the table. That, and the excitement of meeting so many wonderful new people in such a short time.

  “Let me wash,” she told Isabel. “You know where everything goes.”

  “All right, dear, if you’re sure you’re up to it.”

  Abel coughed and stood up. “Guess it’s time for me to make myself scarce.” He glanced at Martha.

  “You up for a game of gin rummy?”

  “I’d love one.” Martha giggled. She grabbed her crutches and pushed herself to her feet.

  “Your turn’s next,” Isabel called after the vanishing pair. She laughed and turned to Allison. “One thing Abel hates, it’s washing dishes. Makes him uncomfortable, just watching somebody else do it. Maybe it’s because he has to do so much washing down on the boat.”

  “Well, I’m glad to help,” Allison said. “I’ve always thought it was very satisfying.” She turned on the tap in the sink, watched the water splash down onto the white porcelain.

  “Yes, it is.” Isabel opened a drawer and took out a clean dish towel. “I couldn’t help noticing, dear, that you were upset earlier. Do you want to talk about it?”

  Allison took a deep breath. She nodded as she squeezed dish soap into the water. “I ran into Brent at the store this afternoon, while I was making a phone call.” She swallowed, plunged her hands into the soapy water. “He overheard my conversation with Cabot.”

  Isabel nodded thoughtfully. “Well, I doubt he was the only one who overheard, dear. Talking on that telephone is as good as broadcasting your business to the world. Anybody on Harper’s who wants to have a private conversation doesn’t do it by telephone.” She touched Allison’s arm. “How is your fiancé? Is there any chance he can get away sooner?”

  Allison shook her head. “That’s just it. I miss him so much, but he’s awfully busy. He said he’d get here as soon as he could, but it could be another week or more.”

  “Well, don’t you worry, dear. He loves you; that’s the important thing. And who knows? You may get so involved with this play group that the time will fly by just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “But what does Brent have to do with it? Did he say something to upset you again?”

  Allison rinsed a glass and placed it in the drainer before she answered. “He said he was sorry. He wanted to help.”

  The older woman nodded. “I told you, that boy has the softest heart in the world.”

  “Well, it’s just that . . . I don’t know . . .” She bit her lip. “I don’t want his pity or anything.”

  “Of course you don’t, dear. I’m sure whatever he said wasn’t meant that way. You have to understand, he just went through a rough time with a woman he thought he loved. He probably feels you have something in common.”

  “You’re talking about Tracy Lawton, aren’t you?” Allison turned to glance at Isabel. “What exactly happened between them, anyway? It all seems so mysterious.”

  Isabel clicked her tongue. “I don’t think there’s any mystery to it. She’s a very beautiful, intelligent woman, and she came to the island at a time when there aren’t many available women around. She and Brent started spending time together and things got serious.” She picked up a glass and dried it carefully. “I think Brent honestly thought he was in love. Then something happened—I couldn’t tell you what it was—and he stopped seeing her. Just like that. A couple of weeks later, she left the island.”

  Allison remembered Brent’s mention of the incident at the ice pond. “Did you like her?”

  Isabel frowned. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t really get to know her. She didn’t mingle with the islanders very much. She went around asking questions, but she mostly kept to herself—and to Brent.” She shook her head slowly. “Abel didn’t have any use for her at all. Said she was a snob and a sophisticate.” She gave Allison a small smile. “Those are about the worst things Abel can say about a person.”

  “But Brent was really hurt, wasn’t he?” Allison kept her eyes on the plate she was washing.

  “Well, yes, he was hurt. But to tell you the truth, I think he was also relieved. Once he saw her for what she was, he was glad he hadn’t gotten in any deeper.” The older woman leaned against the counter, the dish towel tucked into the top of her apron. “He did a lot of soul
searching after she left. On the whole, I think he’s come out of it a lot more considerate and a sight more sensitive than he was. So it’s all turned out for the best.” She turned to pick up a plate. “Which is the way I am sure things will turn out for you, too, dear. So don’t you worry.” She gave Allison an encouraging smile. “How are the arrangements coming for Monday, by the way? The whole island is buzzing over this project. It’s the best thing that’s happened here in years.”

  Allison flushed. “I still have a lot of work to do, but I think I’ll be ready.”

  “If there’s anything I can do to help,” Isabel said, “you be sure to let me know.”

  Allison spent the entire day Sunday immersed in preparations for the next morning. She didn’t have time to think about either Brent or Cabot; she believed if she had encountered either one of them, she would have been too busy to be affected. Before she knew it, it was six o’clock Monday morning and her alarm clock was ringing.

  She got out of bed eagerly, dressed quickly in comfortable corduroy jeans, a light green blouse, and a fair isle sweater, and went downstairs to the kitchen. She found Abel and Isabel cutting ripe strawberries into bowls of hot oatmeal.

  “You look chipper,” Abel observed. “Want a lift up the hill after breakfast? I’m headed that way.”

  “I’d love one. Don’t move, Isabel.” She raised her hand as Isabel started to rise, and went to serve herself from the pot on the stove. “I intend to carry my share of the load around here. No more waiting on me, either of you.”

  “Whatever you say, dear.” Isabel smiled. “Are you all ready for this morning?”

  “I think so. I’m so excited about this project. I hope the kids like it.”

  “They will dear, I’m sure.” Isabel wiped her mouth with her napkin, coughed lightly. “I thought I’d go along with you, if you like. Kind of introduce you to the children as they come in.”

  “Oh, would you? That would be wonderful!” Allison beamed.

  “I don’t want to intrude. But I happen to be free this morning.”

  “Thanks so much, Isabel. How can I ever repay you?” Allison embraced the older woman happily.

  “Just seeing you so happy is payment enough. Besides, I have the feeling there’ll be plenty of opportunity to repay me many times over before you leave Harper’s Island.”

  “If you do,” put in Abel.

  Allison blinked at him.

  “Hush, you old coot!” Isabel scowled and slapped his hand. “What are you saying? The girl’s engaged to be married!”

  Abel grunted and stood up. “So were you before I came along, Isabel Murphy. When’s that grandson of ours going to wake up and see what’s in front of his eyes? What he needs is a good kick in the pants, and I have half a mind to give it to him!” He carried his empty bowl to the sink. “Maybe I’ll go haul with him tomorrow, give him a piece of my mind.”

  “Abel Cutler, you’ll do no such thing!” Isabel jumped up and took her own bowl to the sink. “It doesn’t concern you. Besides, you’re embarrassing Allison. What’s she supposed to say, with you acting like some know-it-all matchmaker? You haven’t even met her fiancé!”

  Allison bent over her bowl of oatmeal, praying that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt.

  “Don’t pay any attention to him, Allison.” Isabel splashed water into the sink. “There’s no fool like an old fool, you know.”

  “Brent’s the fool around here,” Abel muttered. He went to the door and yanked it open. “I’ll wait for you two girls in the truck. Take your time. It’ll give me a chance to smoke my pipe.” The door banged shut behind him.

  “Allison, I’m sorry.” Isabel came up behind Allison, placed gentle hands on her shoulders. “He really isn’t himself today. He got this idea in his head that you’d be the perfect wife for Brent. So now he’s riled at the boy for not sweeping you off your feet. It’s been eating at him something wicked. Please don’t take it to heart.”

  But Brent has swept me off my feet, Allison thought suddenly. She took a last spoonful of oatmeal, forced herself to swallow it. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “I just don’t know what to say.”

  “Of course you don’t, dear. There’s nothing to say. Just don’t pay any attention when he goes on like that. The dust’ll settle pretty soon. Everything will work out. I’m sure of it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Iwish I were that sure everything would work out, Allison wanted to say. She stood up and helped Isabel to clear the rest of the dishes from the table.

  Isabel filled the sink with hot, soapy water. “I’ll just rinse off these dishes, and then we can get going. I know you want to get there early.”

  “Yes.” Allison watched Isabel scrub a crust of oatmeal from the rim of a bowl. “Were you really engaged to someone else when you met Abel?”

  Isabel pursed her lips. “Oh, that. Well, sort of. You see, I knew Abel since we were kids. We both grew up on the island. But there were never any sparks between us then. After grade school everyone had to go to high school on the mainland. That’s where I met Roy. He was a nice boy, kind of quiet and steady. You know, dependable. And I guess we talked a little about getting married after I finished school and all. It was nothing formal.” She picked up the dishcloth and wiped a pool of water from the edge of the sink. “We dated on and off for quite a while. Then I got a job keeping house for some summer people here on the island. I was seventeen. Abel was supplying their lobsters. He had a little skiff and he used to go out hauling on weekends. That’s when he started paying attention to me. He just swept me off my feet. I fell like a ton of bricks. He proposed on our first date and then just kept after me, until I thought I’d go crazy.” She grinned over her shoulder at Allison. “The trouble was, I didn’t want to hurt Roy. It took me quite a while to work it all out in my mind, until I realized it’d hurt Roy a lot more to marry him when I didn’t love him than it would to break up with him.” She rinsed a handful of spoons, stuck them into the drainer. “It worked out just fine, though. Roy got married only a couple of months after we did, to a real nice girl from down in Bangor. They’ve got grandchildren now, too. In fact, I heard the other day that Roy’s granddaughter just made him a great-grandfather last week.”

  Allison smiled. The mental image of the young Isabel falling in love with the handsome, mischievous Abel was vivid and compelling. Something about the way Isabel told stories brought the people alive in a way she’d never experienced. Her own parents were quiet, sedate people, not given to storytelling.

  “Well, enough about my life. We’d better get moving.” Isabel dried her hands on a towel, plucked her sweater from the back of a chair. “Abel should be done with his pipe by now. And those kids will be arriving before we know it.”

  The sun had just risen over the long hill of pine trees as the truck rolled up to the schoolhouse. A tongue of sunlight touched the building, making the clean windows glow.

  “A good omen,” Isabel said as she climbed out of the truck behind Allison. She turned to Abel. “You can pick us up at noon. And don’t go pestering Brent today. He has enough on his mind.”

  “He ought to,” Abel growled.

  Allison looked at the cloudless sky, the bright blue water stretching into infinity beyond the hill. She felt excited and eager to meet the children. It was going to be a wonderful day.

  When the children began arriving shortly after eight, in little groups of two and three, Allison was ready for them. By half past nine there were twenty children playing tag on the schoolhouse lawn. Ricky Flory’s bright red hair flashed in the sun. He was a strong child, Allison noted, both fast and fearless. Twice in the first hour she had to call him down off the roof. She understood what a handful he must be for his mother, but she admired his spirit. He was a cheerful boy, not sullen or sour. He made her think of a sunbeam more than anything else.

  After lunch she gathered the children into a circle on the lawn and read to them. Then, while the youngest ones stretched out on blank
ets on the grass under Isabel’s supervision, she led the older children in quiet games and some simple crafts. At two, when the last of the children headed off down the hill, Allison collapsed onto the porch steps.

  “Tired?” Isabel sighed as she sat down beside her. “They can be a handful. Especially those Flory children. I don’t know how their mother does it.”

  Allison grinned. “Actually, I really enjoy them. Especially Ricky. He’s so full of life and enthusiasm. I hope I’ll have a little boy like him someday. Always getting into mischisf, but so happy all the time. It’s like a breath of fresh air, just watching him.”

  “I know what you mean.” Isabel smiled. “He reminds me of Brent—running all over the island, always up to something. But when he’d get in trouble, he always had this big grin that just melted your heart.” She chuckled. “I never could scold that boy properly.”

  The whine of a truck engine broke the silence. “Ah, there’s Abel.” Isabel got to her feet, shading her eyes as the truck came up out of the trees. “Oh, it’s not Abel. It’s Brent.”

  A knot formed in the pit of Allison’s stomach. She got hastily to her feet. “I think I’d like to walk home,” she said to Isabel. “It’s so nice out today.”

  Isabel gave her a quick glance. “Why, of course, dear. If you like.”

  The truck pulled up in front of the schoolhouse and Brent leaned out. He whistled softly. “Nothing I like better than seeing two pretty women on a summer day.” He winked and grinned as Isabel marched toward the truck and aimed a swat at his arm.

  “Behave yourself! Anyone would think you were brought up in a barnyard the way you act sometimes!” Her tone was playfully angry, and Brent withdrew into the truck with a look of mock injury. Isabel went around to the passenger door, pulled it open and climbed in.

  “Aren’t you coming?” Brent glanced expectantly at Allison.

  “No.” She shook her head and made herself smile. “I want to walk. It’s such a beautiful day. I can’t resist the temptation.”

  His smile widened. “I know exactly what you mean.” For a moment his gaze was so intense that Allison instinctively lowered her eyelashes.