by Jenny Hale
Libby felt like sliding off her chair and hiding under the table. Why did her mother have to ruin the moment? She looked at each person in front of her, trying to see on their faces what they were thinking, her pulse in her ears. Even Jeanie didn’t have a witty response to that question. How could Libby answer that? She hadn’t gotten a job offer, only an interview. She didn’t necessarily want to blab that to everyone. What if she didn’t get the job? She’d look like even more of a failure.
“Um. I’m still looking,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Well, I just know you’ll get something soon.” Celia smiled, making eye contact with everyone at the table.
“She’s a very smart girl, Celia,” Helen said. “You’ve raised a lovely lady.” Helen’s comment seemed to break the tension, and everyone began chatting again. Libby was so thankful to have Helen around.
By the time lunch had finished, Ryan and Emily had scooted their chairs over to Libby’s table, Charlotte bouncing on Ryan’s knee. Helen was telling stories about when the boys were little. Jeanie’s finger traced the rim of her glass and she seemed completely captivated by the stories. Surprisingly, Celia had managed to listen to all of them without ever once comparing Libby’s childhood to Ryan’s or Pete’s. Libby noticed that she’d even leaned back just a bit in her chair. She’d hoped her mother would relax a little more, take the constant focus off Libby, so this made her smile.
With everyone involved in conversation, she wanted to relax. She was finally feeling like it could be a possibility. She leaned over to Pete. “Want to take a walk?” She knew better than to leave the safety of the party. When they were on their own, they could easily slip right back into who they used to be, getting stuck in that empty space again, but she didn’t care.
His chair was turned toward hers. He leaned on his knees with his forearms and clasped his hands, putting him right into her personal space. “Why?”
“It’s a nice day. I’d like to enjoy it.” She was hoping to be able to enjoy Pete’s company as well. Especially after today, when he’d protected her, made her feel okay, been her security at lunch.
She could feel herself letting things with Pete move in a direction that wasn’t sensible. She was at his family’s party, he’d danced with her on the beach, she’d even admitted she needed to loosen up. She wanted to be near him, but if she did, how would she ever leave him without revisiting that terrible argument again? She was hoping to leave sooner rather than later, given the interview opportunity she’d received. She was making things much more difficult than she should.
When she focused on his face, she realized that he was stifling a laugh, holding it in, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Do you know that every time you’re thinking, it shows on your face?” he laughed. “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” she grinned. “Let’s just take a walk.”
When she turned to tell the others that she’d be back in a few, she noticed that Celia was already looking at them, and it was clear that she hadn’t just turned around. Libby swallowed and cleared her throat. “I’ll be right back, Mom. I just want to take a little walk with Pete.” Celia nodded, and Libby knew exactly what she was thinking.
Chapter Fifteen
Celia’s reaction had bothered Libby. She was sure Celia worried that she was getting too caught up in Pete again. But even if she was, she wouldn’t let it ruin her career. She knew what she needed to be happy, and she was willing to work to get it, even if it meant pushing him away. Yes, she was talking a lot to Pete at the party, but he was easy to talk to, and their history made her time there bearable. And they were just friends.
When she thought about it, however, friends didn’t seem like the right word to define them. Years ago, they’d been much more than friends. She’d known everything about him. Yet, so much had happened since she’d been gone, she couldn’t be sure she really knew him anymore. She didn’t know what he did for fun, his hobbies or interests. In fact, she had no idea about his love life—he didn’t have a date with him at the party, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was single. Was it terrible of Libby to hope that he didn’t have a significant other?
“What are you thinking about?” he said, gesturing for her to step first onto the sand.
She kicked off her sandals and set them to the side. How should she answer that? Surely she wouldn’t say she was thinking about him, although that’s exactly what she’d been doing. She walked down to the water and let the swelling sea foam float over her feet. “Nothing,” she finally said as he walked up behind her.
“You’re in your head too much.” He playfully shook her shoulders. “Loosen up!” he smiled.
She bent over and picked up a seashell no bigger than a quarter, just as the tide washed over her fingers, taking the sand off the shell for her. One side was ridged and white, rough like the sand, but the other side was smooth like a pearl and iridescent pink and purple in color. She ran her finger along the smooth side. She’d seen hundreds of these shells as a kid, she’d even collected them, but she’d never stopped to take in their beauty.
Like her, the shell seemed to be perfect on the outside: strong, flawlessly shaped. That’s how it’s judged, by its exterior; nothing could penetrate it or mark it. But on the inside, as she turned it to the light, there were an infinite number of colors, all of the shades blending with one another. It was hard to pick out exactly what color was inside. She’d chosen the life she wanted for herself, and so had Pete, but it didn’t stop the colors from running into each other, from blurring, going round and round, just like her shell. She slipped it into her pocket.
Pete gently tugged at her arm and she turned around. “I’m sorry about what I said earlier about you not being a family person.” He looked straight into her eyes and she could tell he was genuinely sorry. “It must be weird to be back with your mom.”
She nodded. “It is strange being back. I feel like I don’t fit in here. I’ve always felt that way.”
He took in a large breath and blew it out through pursed lips, seemingly contemplating something. Then he said, “Do you remember Catherine’s swing we used to play on? It’s just down the beach.”
“Of course I remember. I ran into Catherine in town. Do her parents still live there?”
“Yeah. Why don’t we go and take a look at that swing?”
Libby walked along the beach, taking in the cottages one at a time as they passed them, thinking about how different the landscape was now that she was an adult. Some of the smaller houses had been torn down for larger ones, and some of the ones that had been lovely as a child were now run down and in need of upkeep.
It was so interesting to see things through the eyes of an adult. There were so many more factors involved now. Cottages weren’t just pretty; they were outward expressions of pride and care and investment, years of work. Like relationships. When they were kids, Libby and her friends just coexisted, swinging on tire swings, drinking lemonade, running in the woods. They didn’t have to work at social exchanges or pay attention to codes of ethics. They just were. But she had been taught to pay attention to the code, not to let the freedom of summer overwhelm her need to focus on her path for success. Watching Pete and her friends as a child, she was able to see a little of that summer magic, even if she hadn’t entirely known it herself. As an adult, the magic of the summer wasn’t there at all. It was yet another set of days to do work and live life.
After a few minutes’ walk, she could see the old swing still hanging from a branch high up in the tree. The beach under it seemed smaller now, narrower. She walked up to the tire and gave it a push, her memories moving with it. She’d been terrified to get on it, but Pete always talked her through it, and after she did, she was glad that he’d helped her to enjoy herself.
“Let’s have a swing like we used to,” Pete suggested.
“What?”
“Hop on.”
“We can’t. We’ll break it!”
“No we won’t.
Look at the size of that branch! It’ll hold us. Watch.” He stepped up onto the tire, his feet inside the center, and held on to the rope. “Get on the other side,” he said.
Libby was still afraid it wouldn’t hold them. But she wanted to step out of her world for a minute and go back to a time when standing on a tire with Pete had been a perfectly normal reality. Carefully, she wedged her foot between his and, with a quiver, put her other foot on the outside of his foot. The rope was strong in her hands, her fists rubbing against his, their faces only inches apart.
“See?” he smiled. Then, with one foot, he stepped down and pushed off the ground, sending them wobbling toward the woods. He kicked against the tree to get them going.
Libby involuntarily squealed with fright, her stomach full of flutters as they soared the other way toward the water. “It won’t break?” she asked, nearly gasping with concern.
“Trust me,” he said, pushing off again, his eyes locked with hers. Even his gaze seemed strong enough to protect her from anything. The air moved around her and she felt weightless, as if the whole world were gone at that moment, and it was just the two of them. The lack of control and the lift in her stomach was so out of character for her, she was having trouble knowing how to respond. She kept thinking how silly it all was, wanting to get off, but the memory of it as a child held her in place.
After they’d gone back and forth enough that she was starting to feel less anxious, Pete said, “Do you remember what we used to do once we got going this high?”
“We used to jump.”
“Would you jump if I asked you to?”
“What?” He couldn’t possibly be serious. “We have clothes on!”
He pushed off again, a suggestive look in his eye. “So you’re saying you want to…”
“No! We’re not wearing swimsuits.” If she wasn’t terrified of letting go, she’d have slugged him in the arm.
“Are you worried about ruining those expensive clothes of yours?”
“No!” she said defensively.
“Then why not?”
He was baiting her. He was a grown man now. There was absolutely no reason for him to want to jump into the water. She was ready to hop onto the sand. She’d had enough of this.
“I dare you,” he pressed.
“What would everyone say if we showed up at the party soaking wet?”
“Who cares?”
“I do!”
“Why?” He pushed off again, sending them soaring over the water.
This is like having a conversation with a ten-year-old, she thought. “Because normal, respectable adults do not jump into the sea with their party clothes on and then go back to the party. People will think we’ve lost our minds.”
“Who cares?”
“You’ve said that already.” The swing shook beneath them.
“Then clearly I mean it! At the count of three. Ready?”
She wasn’t ready! There was absolutely no way she was going to jump into the water. She would be the talk of the town for weeks. No way.
“One…”
It was an utterly stupid idea.
“Two…”
Her chest was getting tight at just the thought of it. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it. This had to be the most preposterous idea Pete had ever had.
“Three!”
She held on to the rope, the tire becoming light beneath her feet. Her mouth hung open as she saw Pete fly through the air and dive straight into the water below. The tire swung her toward the trees and then out to the sea. She searched for him, finding him quickly. When the swing slowed enough, she jumped off and paced toward Pete now walking up through the waves as they rippled at his knees.
“That didn’t go how I wanted it to,” he said, wiping the water from his face, one corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked grin. His wet hair curled slightly, and beads of water were dripping onto his temples.
“What were you thinking?” she laughed in bewilderment. She tried not to notice the fact that she could make out his physique underneath his soaking shirt.
He took the bottom hem in his hands and wrung out the water. “I said on the count of three.”
“Are you insane? What are you going to tell everyone?”
“I’ll tell them I jumped into the water, although I don’t know if they’ll need the explanation really. It may be evident enough.” He ran his fingers through his hair and shook the water off his hands.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said, stomping away from him.
“I’m ridiculous?” She could hear him closing the gap between them.
She didn’t know why she was so angry with him, but she was. The wet sand gritted under her feet as she turned around to face him, her hands on her hips.
“You are so worried about what people will think of you, about being perfect little you, that you wouldn’t let go. Life doesn’t have to be that hard. If you want to jump, jump. Don’t think about whether or not others will want you to do it or not. They aren’t you.” He took a step closer. “The only thing that matters is what’s in here,” he tapped his temple. Then he took her hand and placed her fingers on his wet chest. “And here.”
She pulled her hand from his and started walking down the beach. She was irritated and she couldn’t explain why. She thought about Wade. He certainly wouldn’t have jumped. And, even though he hadn’t been the one for her, Wade had been just the type of guy she wanted to date—a non-jumper. She stopped and spun around toward Pete. The sun was on him, making his wet hair shine. “I don’t want to jump, Pete. It isn’t who I am. I don’t know how many times I need to tell you that.” She turned back around and started back down the beach.
“Then what do you want, Libby? Do you even know?”
Her life seemed to be closing in on her just like it had day after day since she’d come back, and she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. Being near him was messing with her mind. She couldn’t think straight with all the old feelings coming back relentlessly. But the truth of the matter was that it was probably only an initial attraction because of their history. They couldn’t be happy together. They were too different. Angrily, she wiped a runaway tear with the back of her hand. She did know what she wanted. Her mind went to the email on her phone. Right then, it seemed like everything rested on that email, and as soon as she left Pete’s, she was going to follow up.
She didn’t want to think about Pete and Pop, or Nana’s mystery letter anymore, or the fact that she’d not be able to see Jeanie and Helen on a regular basis. None of it mattered because it was all too painful to think about anyway. Why did she need all of this in her life? She’d been perfectly happy in New York and, until recently, things were uncomplicated there.
“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Pete said, still dripping wet.
The complete absurdity of it made her laugh.
“What?” he asked, a perplexed look on his face.
The feel of tears still present, she tipped her head back and laughed again. She was losing it.
“What is wrong with you?”
“Everything here is so weird,” she giggled and sniffled at the same time. “Look at you! And why do people hang tires from trees anyway?”
He chuckled but looked down at the sand as if searching for something.
Then she sobered a little. None of this was his fault at all. He couldn’t help that she was a mess. He’d only been trying to loosen her up like she’d mentioned. He knew her feelings and had been a good friend, just like she’d wanted.
“Well, if you find everything so weird here, maybe you should hurry back to New York.” He turned away from her, walking closer to the waves. His back to her, he picked up a shell and skipped it on the water, watching the place where it went under for longer than normal. Libby knew exactly how he felt because she felt it too. Maybe she should’ve followed her brain instead of her heart and not asked him on a walk. It was easier said than done.
Chapter Sixteen
Libby held the steamer she’d rented from Wentworth’s against the kitchen wall with one hand while she attempted to reach the putty knife with the other. She fingered it and pulled it toward her, stretching her arms in opposite directions, sliding on the drop cloth beneath her feet, until she had the putty knife in her grasp. Removing the steamer, she scraped the wall to rid it of the old kitchen wallpaper. It was a slow process and she’d been at it for a good part of the morning, and about half the kitchen paper had been removed. The only benefit to stripping wallpaper was that it gave her time to think about all the things she had on her mind.
She’d set up an interview with Riddick Wiesner in New York. The interview was on the Friday before Trish’s bridal shower, at the end of the month. Taxes would all be in by then and work would slow down a little, so she didn’t feel too terrible about asking off that day. She’d set it all up the minute she’d gotten home from Helen’s party.
She had enjoyed the rest of the party. As expected, the crowd gawked at Pete when they walked up from the beach. Jeanie had yelled, “Libby finally hit her limit and pushed you in, didn’t she?” Everyone laughed, and Pete never gave a straight answer. He went in and changed, and once he returned, the chatter about it died down. The worst thing was that Pete was very quiet the rest of the party, and he stayed far enough away from her, that they didn’t have another conversation the rest of the day.
Why couldn’t they just be friends? She knew why, but it didn’t stop her from asking herself the question. She wanted to try and be friends, though. She wanted to be able to stop by and say hello when she came home for a visit; she wanted to text him when something funny happened; she wanted to see his smile again. She wasn’t letting that go. Perhaps, if she could just keep the conversation light, being friends could work.
Libby had spent most of the remaining time at the party with her mother and Jeanie. Surprisingly, Celia hadn’t said a whole lot about her new job with Marty or New York after that original discussion, thank goodness. Probably because Jeanie already knew most of the details and everyone else had been occupied in other conversations. After a few more glasses of wine, more birthday toasts, and some great songs, Libby had politely made her exit. She’d left when Pete was talking to someone, so she’d waved in his direction. It occurred to her that perhaps she should have waited, but she really just wanted to get home.