The Reunion

by Newman, Summer

  Ethan read the sign. “Is that Bern?”

  “Yes,” she answered, noticing the maliciousness of the man’s glare.

  “If looks could kill.”

  “You made a fool of him,” Ebony said flatly, staring straight ahead, “and then you left. I’m sure there’s hardly been a day since that he hasn’t thought about you.”

  “You’re probably right. But holding grudges isn’t a good thing, is it?” He drove past the truck.

  “Finally,” she muttered as they reached her house.

  “Can I walk you to the door?”

  “No.”

  “Did you miss me?” Ethan inquired softly.

  Ebony turned to him. Had she missed him? Yes. Had she needed him with all her heart? Yes. Had he caused her incalculable pain, innumerable sleepless nights, and an aching soul? Yes, yes, yes. He was the one man she had ever loved. He was the one man with whom she wanted to spend the rest of her life. He was the one man whose children she wanted to raise.

  “Did you miss me?” Ethan repeated.

  “No.”

  He got out of the car, walked around to her side, and opened the door. She got out, and they stood facing each other, inches apart. Ebony immediately pulled away, but her heart was pounding, and she swallowed hard, her eyes leveled on his chest. She looked up at Ethan.

  “I hate you,” she said.

  He knitted his brows. “‘Hate’ seems like a strong word.”

  “I hate you more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life.”

  “All right,” he stammered with an agonized look. “I know I did something inexcusable, but I don’t want you to hate me.”

  “Leave me alone,” she answered slowly. “Get out of my life.”

  He gazed at the ocean. “I will leave you alone,” he said, “but no matter what you say, I will never believe that you hate me.”

  “Leave me alone,” she said, turning her back to him and walking away.

  Ethan got into his car, but she refused to look at him for even the briefest moment. He drove away, and Ebony walked to her house and leaned against the wall. Like a dam unable to hold the spring runoff a moment longer, Ebony slumped forward, put her hands over her face, and wept. Without even thinking about it, she unconsciously touched the locket that lay next to her heart.

  Chapter Five

  For the next five weeks, as the warm winds of spring awakened everyone’s zest for life, Ebony avoided Ethan with unfailing determination. He began an architectural business in Halifax, but continued to live in the island cottage. Every evening, after he and Ron finished work and supper, they would row up and down the bay, often in the mellow light of fading dusk. Ebony watched them out her window and could not help but notice they were getting faster and faster as the days passed.

  “The Mortons are unbeatable,” she said to herself one evening. “It will be the Mortons who dance with their wives at the awards ceremony.”

  Though they were not speaking or connecting in any conceivable way, Ebony was constantly aware of Ethan’s presence. Sometimes, late at night, she would gaze at the big island with her binoculars and see Ethan sitting beside a banker’s lamp, working in his study. He seemed to be drawing, or thinking, or brooding. She wasn’t sure which, and she would not allow herself to care, yet, somehow, in a strange and inexplicable way, she drew comfort from his presence, and she wondered, just wondered, if he was thinking of her as she was thinking of him.

  On the last Saturday in April, Ebony put on a long white dress with rose-colored flowers, black shoes, and colorful beads in her hair. She went for a walk, and just as she approached the Shad Bay store, she noticed Ethan standing beside the picnic table outside. He was drinking juice and reading a poster advertising the upcoming dory races. She stopped dead in her tracks, concealed behind a hedgerow of greenery, and admired his sprawling, masculine pose. He had always possessed an unflappable confidence and disregard for what others thought, but for some reason, she was both repelled and attracted to those traits in him. Ebony walked forward, and Ethan, seeing her out of the corner of his eye, snapped to attention and smiled.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “Mr. Harrington,” she returned, walking past him.

  McKenzie Nickerson, a local fisherman who had once tried to hook up with Ebony with the smell of rum on his breath, pulled into the parking lot and stepped out of his pickup truck. He looked at Ebony, then, seeing Ethan, bristled like a ruffed grouse preparing to drum. Ethan did not notice McKenzie and continued to drink in Ebony’s form with greedy eyes. When she walked into the store, Ethan casually leaned against a picnic table and continued to drink his juice. McKenzie went into the store and bought a pack of cigarettes, his eyes on Ebony almost the whole time, even through the window. When he came out, another man arrived, and they began talking about the upcoming dory races. Ebony walked past them.

  “Man’s boat,” McKenzie said, loud enough for Ebony and Ethan to hear. “Not the kind of boat for a silver spoon.”

  Ethan, realizing McKenzie was talking about him, squinted his eyes. Ebony had seen that look before and could sense trouble. The other man, apparently knowing Ethan’s reputation for brawling, quickly hurried into the store. Ethan walked directly toward McKenzie.

  “See you at the races,” Ethan said calmly, brushing past him and whistling as he strolled down the road.

  “I’ll be there,” the fisherman snapped back. “Just make sure you’re there.”

  Ebony passed McKenzie, then walked down the road, not fifty feet behind Ethan. He glanced back and saw her, but did not slacken his pace, nor did she increase hers. At the cove wharf, he hopped into his boat, and she walked up the hill to her house and immediately looked out the window to watch him rowing across the bay.

  A couple hours later, Ethan rowed back to the wharf, where a big truck had just arrived. The men unloaded a number of large cardboard boxes, and Ethan transported them across the bay in his dory. Ebony was curious to know what they were, but refused to call Jenny and ask, for fear of betraying her interest.

  And I am definitely not interested, she thought.

  Father Thomas called her as she watched Ethan unload the last box from his dory. “Ebony, the committee has accepted your request regarding the African mission.”

  “That’s good news, Father,” she said with trepidation.

  “May I ask you a personal question?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Is your relationship with Ethan an amiable one?”

  She gazed out the window and watched him carrying the last box up the pathway to his cottage. “To be perfectly frank, Father, we have no relationship. And that’s the way I want to keep it.”

  “I see.”

  “You understand, I hope.”

  “Ebony, let me be frank. I’ve heard stories about his wild life when he used to live here. But my experience has been totally different. I like the man. He has qualities.”

  “Possibly,” she said.

  “Do you know he came to visit me?”

  “No,” she said with interest. “What did he say?”

  “He apologized for leaving so suddenly. He said it was unfair to you, to Jenny, to me, to the church, to everyone. He was very sincere. Others have commented on him, too. People have seen a change for the better. I think he’s a different person.”

  Ebony liked hearing Father Thomas speak of him in such a complimentary manner, though she did not acknowledge it. After the call, Ebony became lost in thought, though she kept watching out the window for Ethan.

  That evening at six, Ethan climbed into the dory and rowed the mile to Ron’s house. Ebony went for a walk toward the bridge. The declining sun turned the clouds into a spectacular scarlet with flecks of gold, yellow, and light blue. It seemed almost surrealistic. Ebony commented on it with an elderly couple near the archery range, then continued her walk in the warm spring dusk.

  She turned at the bridge and noticed Ethan and Ron just finishing up a final lap around Indian
Island, the small rock reef where, supposedly, many centuries earlier, a beautiful young native girl had been buried alongside the young man she loved. Apparently they had been forbidden by their parents from seeing each other, but love, knowing no boundaries, exerted itself on a stormy night, and the two of them drowned trying to swim to each other. Their bodies washed onto the reef in Shad Bay, and it was said they were buried there under a pile of rocks.

  “Now that was true love,” Ebony said to herself.

  Totally distracted, Ebony walked down the road. When she reached the Harrington house, she saw Jenny sitting on the wharf across the road, and Ethan was standing in his dory next to it. They were having an animated discussion, and though Ebony tried to slip by unnoticed, Ethan saw her. He immediately turned his head. Ebony did likewise and was glad to pass him without incident.

  Ebony hurried toward home, her mind racing. When she reached the road that led to her house, she veered off into the orchard and picked some mayflowers that had sprung up near the brook. She continued on her way, but suddenly stopped at the foot of her driveway. Sitting quietly on the cove wharf was Ethan.

  “Hi,” he greeted tentatively, strain in his voice.

  “Hello,” she said softly, walking onto the wharf.

  He looked her in the eye. “Jenny told me your departure date has been moved forward and that you’re leaving for Africa at the end of May.”

  “May the twenty-fifth,” Ebony said firmly. “Less than a month now.”

  A long, awkward silence followed, and neither of them knew what to do with their eyes.

  “There’s something on my mind,” Ebony said sweetly. “I’ve been watching you and Ron row.”

  Ethan’s enthusiasm seemed to bubble from every pore of his body. “We’ve been working really hard.”

  “I see that. Rebecca tells me you’re doing very well.”

  “Yes,” Ethan said proudly. “We’re going to win that race.”

  Ebony forced a smile. “I meant to talk to you about that.”

  “Before you say another word, there’s something I have to tell you.” He took a deep breath. “I want to apologize with all my heart for what I did.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “Please,” he said, perspiration forming on his forehead, “I have to say this.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been a fool many times in my life, but never more a fool than when I left you. I’ve paid for that mistake ever since. I want to make amends, and I’m asking for your forgiveness.” He looked like a man whose time has come up on death row. “Please forgive me.”

  Words deserted her as she looked at a man whom she knew intimately, and yet not at all. He was still Ethan, still handsome, still keenly intelligent, yet in five years, he had aged, filled out. Even his voice had deepened. The quick, fast, young athlete was now slower, but bigger and stronger. Yet this man, the only man she had ever loved, this man was a stranger, a stranger except for one thing. History. Their history would bind them forever. The love they shared, the pain he caused. No matter how far she traveled or how many years separated them, that history would always be there.

  “I thought I could come back and make everything right,” he said, “as if those five years never happened.”

  “Those years did happen,” she returned sharply, but she quickly regained her composure and smiled again. “Are you serious, though, about making amends?”

  “I’ll do anything,” Ethan pledged. “Name it.”

  Ebony walked to the edge of the wharf and gazed at the placid ocean. She turned to Ethan with a serious expression and noticed a group of youngsters walking toward them out of the corner of her eye. The three boys, ranging in age from twelve to fourteen, leaned against a fence like old farmers and watched. The oldest of them was smoking a cigar. Three girls of a similar age continued the approach, but stopped at the corner of a nearby boathouse. They slunk back into the shadows, tittering to each other as they spied on the village’s most famous couple.

  “Name it,” Ethan said, unconscious of the fact that his voice was carrying in the clear night and easily audible to the curious onlookers.

  “Anything?”

  “Anything,” he exclaimed, walking up to her.

  Ebony offered no resistance. “I’m glad you feel that way because now you won’t mind canceling our silly bet.”

  “What silly bet?”

  “You know,” Ebony answered sweetly, “that bet where I would have to dance with you.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  “What?” she cried incredulously.

  “I can’t cancel that bet.”

  “I thought you wanted to be my friend.”

  “I do, but a bet’s a bet.”

  “Please don’t hold me to this, Ethan. You don’t realize what you’re asking.”

  “A bet’s a bet.”

  “If you say that one more time…”

  “A bet’s a bet.”

  Ebony was about to hurry off, but she suddenly pushed Ethan with all her might. He went flying head over heels off the end of the wharf and landed with a terrific splash. A moment later, he surfaced and shook his head, his laughter resounding in the cove. The girls spontaneously hurried onto the wharf, stood beside Ebony, and waited until Ethan climbed the ladder.

  “You deserved that,” said the oldest girl in a tone of righteous indignation.

  The two younger girls nodded with the most serious expressions imaginable.

  “Yes, you did deserve that,” Ebony agreed.

  Ethan flicked water from his hair, and his drenched clothes dripped. “This water is freezing.”

  “Cancel the bet,” Ebony insisted.

  “A bet’s a bet,” he said with unbreakable resolve.

  The girls looked at each other with keen excitement, then ran off to report the scene to their parents and friends. The boys stayed and watched, intent on seeing what the big, powerful man would do. They were disappointed, however, as Ebony hurried away in tight-lipped anger and Ethan merely lowered his head, got into his dory, and rowed back to the island.

  “Why did you come back?” Ebony mumbled as she sat on her couch, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  * * * *

  The next morning, Ebony determined to start afresh. She walked outside to a warm spring day. The wind tossed her white sheets on the line, and the smell of flowers, freshly blooming, imbued the air with a delicious, fragrant aroma. Down by the bay, someone was burning grass, the smoke drifting lazily skyward. The door suddenly opened, and Jenny walked in with her everyday smile.

  “Did you and Ethan trick me into taking that bet that day?” Ebony instantly asked.

  “What bet?”

  “The bet about the dory race and the dance?”

  “No, of course not,” Jenny said. “You have an overactive imagination.”

  “The race is next Saturday,” Ebony said with a tremor in her voice, “and I’ve been watching Ethan and Ron row. They’re fast.”

  “Yes, they are. Did you know my Bill has entered?”

  “Who with?”

  “McKenzie Nickerson asked him, and they’re going to be teammates.”

  “Who will you be cheering for, Bill and McKenzie or Ethan and Ron?”

  “Both, naturally.” She paused and assumed an impish expression. “Oh, did you hear the other news?”

  “What news?”

  “The Morton brothers won’t be there.”

  Ebony suddenly froze, her eyes opened as wide as if she had seen a ghost. “What?” she exclaimed.

  “They were working on a wharf in Herring Bay, and Donnie slipped.” She looked into Ebony’s eyes, savoring her friend’s reaction. “He apparently broke his wrist.”

  “Oh my God,” Ebony muttered. “You’re kidding!”

  “Not kidding. And Jack won’t race without him, so this year we are guaranteed to have new champions.” She laughed briefly. “Doesn’t life have a special knack for getting really interesting sometimes?”
r />   “I hate your brother,” Ebony suddenly snapped. “He better not win.”

  Jenny’s lip quivered. “You know, sometimes it’s only human to be angry, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to be cruel.”

  Ebony walked to the stove and stood with her back to Jenny. “What do you want me to say?” She turned to her best friend with a wild look. “You manipulated me into that foolish bet, I know it, and now the Mortons aren’t going to be there. I’m not stupid. I’ve seen how well Ethan and Ron are rowing together, and I’ve seen that brother of yours running every morning up and down the big hill. He’s turned this into a bloody mission.”

  “Ebony,” Jenny said, taken aback by her expression and tone, “what’s gotten into you?”

  “That bet,” she cried out, angrily throwing a dishtowel into the sink. “That damned bet.”

  Jenny looked blankly at her best friend. “Everything will work out.”

  “No, it won’t work out,” Ebony asserted, stepping back and wiping her tear-stained face.“If he wins,” she said, sniffling, “I will have to stand up in front of everyone and dance with the man who betrayed me. People will laugh at me. They’ll ridicule me. They’ll call me a fool.”

  “Remember that movie I gave you for your birthday?”

  Ebony nodded and whimpered lowly, rubbing her red eyes.

  “Elizabeth Bennet’s pride was injured, Ebony, but love found a way.” Jenny gently squeezed Ebony’s warm, moist hands. “Love always finds a way. Remember that.”

  “Love is nothing without trust. And after what I’ve been through, trust is in short supply.”

  “Love finds a way,” Jenny reiterated, squeezing her friend’s hands before quietly leaving.

  The house fell silent, and Ebony looked into the mirror. Her eyes were red and swollen, her forehead furrowed with fine lines. Even her hair seemed to have forfeited its youthful luster. Ebony saw a tired woman staring back at her. The light and airy freshness of her youth was gone, gone forever, destroyed by a heartless good-bye note and five years of agonized longing.