The Reunion
By
Summer Newman
The Reunion
Copyright © November 2013, Summer Newman
Cover art by Fiona Jayde © November 2013
Formatting by Bob Houston eBook Formatting
Amira Press
Charlotte, NC 28227
www.amirapress.com
ISBN: 978-1-627620-25-3
No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Amira Press.
Dedication
This novel is dedicated to all the colorblind people of the world.
Chapter One
Ethan Harrington rose at first light, gathered his things, checked out of the downtown hotel and rented a car. He drove out of the city and turned down the Prospect Road, immediately noticing how different everything looked. Where there had been unbroken wilderness five years ago, there was now a retail park, an exhibition building, and a transportation and business complex. He passed a new gas station, felt a sense of relief to see the majority of houses unchanged, then noticed his heart quickening as he approached the little village of Shad Bay. By the time he entered it, he could feel his pulse pounding in his wrists and temples. A film of perspiration formed on his forehead.
He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly as he drove down the hill. It was still only seven o’clock, and no one was out and about. There was not a breath of wind, and the bay was absolutely still, the houses on the hills surrounding it reflected with perfect clarity on its mirrorlike surface. Ethan pulled over and looked at a small yellow house on the hill behind the beach, smoke curling from the chimney. He wondered if she was there. Had she sold her house, and had someone new moved in? Had she married and begun a family? Or was she there right now? What would she say, and what would she think when she saw him after all these years?
He didn’t know, and a large part of him was afraid to find out.
Ethan pulled in front of a stately home and slid a green envelope inside the mailbox. The mailbox was illustrated with an Atlantic salmon leaping out of a dark blue river, the name “Harrington” hanging below it on a wooden panel. He continued up the road to the bridge, but even from there, a mile distant, he could still see her house. It seemed to stand out like a torch in the darkness.
A prickly heat broke out all over his skin. He turned around and slowly drove past his family estate again, then parked across from the little island, his eyes fixed on the small yellow house. After taking a deep breath, he drove to the beach. He got out of the car and climbed the hill in the morning silence. The steam from his breath rose in the damp, cold air and faded to nothing, just like promises unkept. At the top of the hill, he could see the two Cannon Rocks, the big island, the village of Bayside, even his family home. But two hundred yards away was the small yellow house that drew his attention as surely as if there was a magnet inside it.
Sitting on a granite boulder, Ethan stared at the ocean and the gulls flying past in the clear blue sky. An almost dreamlike mist rose from the water, and small clumps of ice could still be seen bobbing in the frigid Atlantic. Thin ice also covered the shoreline, gleaming and reminding everyone that this year’s hard winter had not yet decided to relinquish its grip. Ethan could feel the cold air on his skin, and he knew it would soon start raining, but no matter where his thoughts strayed, he kept looking to the small yellow house with the gray smoke curling from its chimney.
The soft morning light and cool air bathed his face. Ethan’s senses were heightened by a mixture of excitement, intensity, and dark foreboding. Though some may have thought he cut an imposing figure in his brown suede coat, he felt small, his conscience racked by a deep and unshakable shame.
Suddenly the door of the little yellow house opened, and a woman walked outside. Though only a silhouette, he knew instantly that it was Ebony. He knew it! A tremendous surge of adrenaline flooded his system, and he could barely breathe, barely think. Yes, this would be the day, the day he’d dreamed of, the day he’d dreaded. He sighed deeply at the thought of what was about to happen, gathered the collar of his coat against the damp southeasterly wind, and then looked up at the approaching ominous clouds.
Yes, this would be the day.
* * * *
Ebony Evans picked up a piece of firewood and then noticed a man rise from the big granite boulder behind the beach and start to walk down the hill. Before she could get a good look, he vanished over the crest.
“That’s odd,” she said to herself. “You don’t see people out this early very often.” She shrugged and forgot about it.
She gathered four pieces of wood, carried them inside, and stoked the fire. As the pieces ignited, she leaned against the window frame, her breath clouding the glass with a soft, fading impression. She gazed at the little fishing village below, the soulful ballad “Love Don’t Live Here Anymore”by Madonna softly playing on her stereo.
Ebony looked at the present Jenny had given her. Though the movie was still partially wrapped in colorful paper, she could see the A&E logo and the pictures of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. She picked up the birthday card and read it again before standing it on her china cabinet, then unwrapped the movie and was just about to put it on her top shelf when she stared at the words Pride and Prejudice.
“Some people don’t change,” she mumbled.
The house was abnormally cool. She checked the cast iron radiators and felt that they were cold to the touch. She turned the thermometer, but the furnace did not start. She knitted her brows, added another piece of wood to the stove, then crawled back into bed. Though she had slept poorly the night before, feeling restless and irritated, she could not go back to sleep. The room seemed uncomfortably quiet, the deep, unremitting silence broken only by the crackle of burning wood. She sighed, got out of bed, added more wood to the fire, and boiled water for tea. As she waited, the yellow envelope on top of the fridge drew her eyes like a magnet. Finally, taking a deep breath, she opened it. She had already filled out all the information. The question now was whether to sign and send it. If she did, she knew her life would take a drastic turn. It would be the end, the final white flag, the surrendering of hope. But it was also a new beginning. A challenge. Something noble, wonderful, splendid.
She took out the card with her personal information, and suddenly it occurred to her that the age was wrong. She had written “twenty-seven” in the box, but as of today, that was no longer true. With her pen she turned the seven into an eight. Twenty-eight years old. Soon she would be thirty, forty, fifty.
She gazed at herself in the mirror and wondered what she had truly accomplished in her life. What would be her legacy if she died tomorrow? For a long time, she stared at the woman looking back at her. She did not see beauty. She saw only the lines in her face, the weary expression, the flickering of inner light. And though she couldn’t understand it, she saw something else. She saw hatred, and she saw a conscience racked by a deep and unshakable shame.
Ebony signed the card, sealed it in the envelope, and applied the proper postage. It was such a simple act, yet it would change everything, absolutely everything. People come to crossroads in their lives, and this was hers. She knew it. Her world was about to change forever. And how her heart ached as she stepped outside in the cool morning air and picked wood from her dwindling pile. After collecting two loads, she took the opportunity to catch up on some neglected housework and got so busy that she forgot about the furnace and went from one thing to another. At ten thirty, she put on her raincoat and grabbed the umbrella and her envelope. She strolled to the community mailboxes, where she hesitated for several minutes before finally dropping in the envelope. It s
tarted to rain. Ebony opened her umbrella and walked up the hill. The poor night’s sleep, the fateful decision, her birthday, the anniversary—everything combined to make her feel on edge. It seemed her mind might literally overload and explode.
She walked down the Shad Bay hill totally distracted, hardly noticing passing cars, houses, or the rain. Without even thinking about it, she stared at the big island and the partially visible cottage nestled among its trees. Memories, one after another, played in her mind, then faded, leaving her weary and uninspired.
The house was still warm, but the fire had dwindled to hot coals. She put on more wood and brought her scrapbook to the table. She had started the scrapbook when she was ten, and it chronicled much of her life, from her awards in school for excellence in reading and writing, the science project she won in high school, and a large amount of newspaper clippings about her sports past. Flipping the pages unthinkingly, each bringing with it new reflections, Ebony turned the last page and saw the photograph of a handsome young white man dressed in white slacks and a white shirt. He was wearing sunglasses and sandals, smiling like a movie star, and standing on the big island.
“I hate you, Ethan Harrington!” she said in a vicious tone as the clock struck noon. “I hate your guts!”
* * * *
Ethan looked up at the old town clock on Citadel Hill as it struck noon, then walked through the downtown, pausing in front of a favorite old tavern, the smell of steak and chips tempting him, but he feared he might be recognized, so he kept walking, head down. As he strode toward the theater, Ethan remembered the autumn night he and Ebony attended Romeo and Juliet, and he recalled, as if it were yesterday, how hard she cried at the end. He had never seen her more beautiful than that night, her eyes gleaming like frosted glass, tears dripping onto her scarlet collar. Every man and woman in the lobby looked at her, but she was not conscious of their admiring eyes or stolen glances. She was just beautiful.
“The time approaches, Ebony,” Ethan mumbled to himself. “How will you react? What will you look like?”
Ethan walked to the library, but again his thoughts turned to Ebony. Years ago, they sat at this very spot, ate chips from a mobile food truck specializing in fries, then walked arm in arm through the city gardens, thousands of flowers filling the summer night with their intoxicating aromas. They had watched a wedding, the bride splendid in her white gown, the little girls all attired in white and flushed with a timid rapture, silver pins in their hair and colorful bouquets held to their frail chests. After the couple was married and the train moved off across a small arched bridge, Ebony had held Ethan’s hand and led him along, as if they were among the invited guests. It was obvious they were not, but Ebony was so stunningly beautiful, so exuberant with life and joy, that everyone hoped she and Ethan would continue in the procession.
Ethan smiled at the memories, then turned down another street, where he tossed twenty dollars into the fiddle case of a young musician. After lunch, he sat at the waterfront, watching ships come and go. The smell of salt water exhilarated him. He had forgotten how pleasant that pungent aroma was, how it surged into the senses, making a man understand the passing of time and the value of life. The ocean always looked the same. When he was a boy, his parents had brought him to this very spot, but now, years later, the water still looked the same, and probably would for untold millennia. But how time had changed him. How different a man he was now. Yet how would she see him? Oh, it would never be the same. He could not expect that. But there was hope. At least a hint of hope.
Ethan shrugged and remembered the old Russian saying “Hope dies last.”
He closed his eyes and lowered his head. Soon, very soon, he would find out where his history had taken him and how it would affect his future.
At five he began walking back to the car and preparing his mind for that fateful drive to Shad Bay. It was time to confront what he had done, and it was time to face the consequences. It was time to look Ebony Evans right in the eyes.
* * * *
Just past five, Ebony approached the fine home Ethan Harrington had gazed upon that morning. Jenny Harrington, just getting out of her car, called out and waved. Ebony waved back and smiled warmly.
“You don’t look right,” Jenny said when Ebony reached her. “Are you coming down with something?”
“I didn’t sleep well.”
“I see,” she said meaningfully.
“I watched Pride and Prejudice last night,” Ebony said in an awkward tone. “Thank you for letting me open the gift early.”
“Isn’t Colin Firth handsome?”
“Gorgeous,” Ebony said. “And Jennifer Ehle is a perfect Elizabeth Bennet. They have so much chemistry.” She laughed like a schoolgirl. “And you know how I love romances.”
“I think those shelves of movies and novels gave you away. What’s your favorite part of Pride and Prejudice?”
“Hard to say. I love every scene between them and, of course, when they get married at the end. But my favorite part is when they meet unexpectedly at his home, after he jumps into the lake. It’s so romantic.” She glanced fleetingly at her best friend. “You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”
“This birthday was special.”
Ebony turned away with a pained look.
“I have a surprise for you tonight,” Jenny said, grinning. “You’ll never guess.”
“I don’t like guessing,” Ebony returned, “but I do like surprises.”
“All right, we’ll leave it as a surprise then.”
The rain fell harder as Jenny and Ebony hurried up the driveway. They passed the flowering crab trees, the yellow moving van parked in front of the garage, cobblestone walls bordering spacious lawns, and a quaint English garden, now wild and overgrown. Jenny was twenty-five, tall, dark-haired, and pretty.
When the women rounded the corner and headed for the back of the house, Doc opened the door to them. “Come in out of the rain,” he insisted.
“Not right now,” Jenny said. “We just came for the key.”
“Abide awhile,” he offered, looking up at the sky. “It’s raining.”
“We’ll be back at six,” Jenny said, laughing at the elderly gentleman’s charming manner. “Just give us an hour or so to clean the house. Then you can start moving in.”
“But you’ll get wet.”
“Dad!” exclaimed a woman in her early thirties, stepping forward. “I’m sure Jenny is eager to reclaim her home.”
Jenny put up her hand. “I hope you don’t think that, Rebecca. I don’t mind having you at all. It’s just that I know you’re anxious to get settled. But I’m more than a little embarrassed that I gave you the wrong date.”
“The Smiths seem like very nice people,” Rebecca said. “They say the house has a wonderful view of the Nine Mile River and Shad Bay.”
“You’ll love it. Lydia always kept the place spotless, but we’ll just give it the once-over before you move in.”
“Housecleaning,” Rebecca said with a frown. “Some birthday present, eh, Ebony?”
“I don’t mind,” she said. “I like to help out when I can.” She looked at her watch and then to Jenny. “We’d better get going.”
“Are you sure I can’t help?” Rebecca asked.
“We’ll be okay,” Ebony assured her.
Rebecca came out on the veranda. “Thanks for renting to us on such short notice, Jenny. The nearest suitable property Ron could find was way over in Glen Margaret. That’s a long commute to the Shad Bay school every day.” She turned to Ebony. “The cake will be here when you get back. Dad’s even going to pick up some candles.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“We have a surprise for you, too,” Doc added with childlike enthusiasm.
“Oh my,” said Ebony, “this is turning out to be a day of surprises.”
“We should be back around six or so,” Jenny said.
The friends left, and as they approached Jenny’s car, the sun sudde
nly burst through an opening in the dark clouds and illuminated the landscape. The two friends decided, on the spur of the moment, to walk the half-mile instead of driving. Just as they reached the shoulder of the road, a half-ton Ford truck drove past with two men. The driver honked his horn and waved. Jenny and Ebony waved back.
“Isn’t Bill a sweetie?” Jenny asked, smiling brightly.
“He’s a very nice guy,” Ebony agreed. “You’re lucky to have him.”
They walked in silence for several minutes, passing the Smelt Brook—swollen by the spring thaw—the government wharf, and the Osprey Archery Club.
Jenny suddenly asked out of the blue, “What do you think is the best quality in a man?”
“Trustworthiness,” Ebony shot back immediately. “Above all else, a man must be trustworthy. He has to be someone you can count on day in and day out.”
“Think Bill fits that description?”
“Yes, Bill is a fine person. He’s a gentleman.”
Jenny had been waiting for that. “He asked me out to a movie tomorrow night, and he mentioned that one of his friends is free.”
“To take me?”
“Yes,” Jenny said, “he wants to take you.”
“He’s never even met me.”
“We’re all strangers until we meet for the first time.”
“Sorry, Jenny, it’s not my nature. You know me. Home, hot chocolate, movies. Can you honestly see me going on a blind date?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“I wouldn’t feel comfortable. And it would ruin your fun if you had to worry about me all evening.”
“You’d enjoy it.”
Ebony shook her head.
“Please, Ebony, do it for me.”
“Why for you?”
Jenny sighed. “I don’t want you to leave, okay? Your life is here in Shad Bay. I know you’re a wonderful woman. Everybody knows that. You don’t have to travel to Africa to prove it.”
“And you think I’ll change my mind if you find me a man?”
The Reunion Page 1