by Nancy Thayer
Her legs buckle.
He looks older. Well, of course, he is older. He’s wearing a suit, which somehow seems wrong, except it’s a gorgeous cut and he looks quite sophisticated in it. His glossy black hair is parted on one side, very fifties chic. He’s beautiful.
Sensing the presence of someone in the doorway, Ben raises his head. When he sees Emily standing there, he recoils as if shot.
“Emily.” He stands up. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Ben.” She’s pleased at how natural her voice sounds. “Could I come in?”
Color floods up his neck to his cheeks, but he remains dignified. “Are you selling your house?”
She wants desperately to go to him, touch him, embrace him. But it’s too soon. Oh, Ben, her Ben, she knows him by heart, even though he’s wearing a Ralph Lauren shirt and has a hundred-dollar haircut. She enters the room and stands in front of his desk.
Clasping her hands together at her waist to steady herself, she says, “No, Ben, I’m not selling my house. I came here because I want to talk to you about personal matters.”
His shoulders stiffen. “I’m afraid everything important was said about six years ago, Emily. Right before you married Cameron.”
“You know Cameron’s dead,” she says.
“Yes. I know.” He has the courtesy to add, “I’m sorry.”
“May I sit down?”
He gestures to the chair in front of his desk with an open hand.
Emily sits, crossing her long legs slowly. “Cameron was a good husband to me, and a good father to Serena. Have you seen Serena?”
Ben remains standing. “Of course not.”
“You should see her. She looks like you.”
He flinches as if hit. Emily can imagine his body beneath his elegant clothes. His heart accelerating as he comprehends the full impact of her words. His jaw lifting, as Maggie’s does, when they’re feeling attacked, when they’re defensive. His fists clenching, ready for battle. His hurt boy’s heart in his grown man’s body.
She wants to take him in her arms. It’s too soon, that would be presumptuous.
Keeping her voice soft, Emily says, “Ben. Serena is your daughter.”
Ben’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t speak.
Emily coaxes, “I want you to see her. I want you to know her, I want her to know you. I’d like—”
Ben walks from behind the desk to stand in front of Emily. She rises to face him.
“It’s always about what you want, isn’t it, Emily?” He’s not angry, but sad. His eyes are deep blue, black-blue, with remorse.
“That’s not true. You were the one who broke off with me.”
Ben makes a noise in this throat like a low growl.
Emily persists. “Remember those days? We were fighting, we couldn’t find a middle ground, you wouldn’t answer my phone calls. We were so young.” Tears fill her eyes.
Ben’s whole body tightens as he restrains his emotions.
It’s taking all her own self-control not to embrace him. She knows that if she could hold him, he would come back to her. “I wish I had married you, Ben. Even if we had to live with Thaddeus and your mother and ten other people in a barn. But I married the wrong man. It’s done. We were both unhappy, if that’s any consolation. But, Ben, I had the right daughter. And Serena and I are here on this island right now. You and I have another chance. Please don’t let it go by because of pride. Please, Ben, at least agree to meet Serena. Come for a drink, or for dinner—”
Ben rubs his hands over his face. She sees his shoulders rise and fall as he inhales deeply. He meets her eyes. “Emily. I’m sorry. It’s too late. Too much has happened. There’s no going back.”
“Of course not. But we can go forward.” Gently, she says, “Ben. I have never stopped loving you.” She reaches out a hand to touch his shoulder.
Ben steps away. Several steps away. “Emily,” he says, his voice aching. “I’ve moved on with my life. You need to move on with yours.”
“Ben—” Emily’s paralyzed, uncertain what to do. She waits.
Ben doesn’t speak. He doesn’t look at her.
Emily asks, “You want me to go?”
“Yes.” He’s rigid, locked.
Emily leaves his office, walks briskly down the stairs, nearly tripping. She passes the receptionist without speaking, and drives quickly to Brant Point beach, a few blocks away, where she sits in her car and sobs.
When she’s composed, she drives to Maggie’s.
“The girls are in the backyard,” she tells Emily when her friend knocks on the door. Seeing Emily’s face, she asks, “So he didn’t greet you with open arms?” Tugging Emily lightly by the wrist, she says, “Come in. I’ve made iced decaf lattes.”
They settle in the family room with its wide sliding doors to the patio and lawn. At the far end, Serena and Heather bustle in and out of a charming child-size log cabin. They seem to be running a pastry shop.
“I like your house,” Emily says, looking around. “It’s new and clean and open.”
“I know, right? I told Tyler I’d had my fill of creaky old houses with slanting floors. And I love Meadow View Drive. It’s the perfect neighborhood for kids.”
“I’m not sure what to do about my parents’ house. I mean, it’s mine now. They’ve signed it over to me. They live in Florida now, and prefer it there. I’m happy in our ’Sconset house, but it’s isolated except in the summer. No children.”
Maggie’s eyes are bright. “You’re sure you’re going to live on Nantucket?”
Emily’s spirits lift as she answers. “I absolutely am! I called Janet this morning to talk about the science museum. They’re not hiring staff, but I’m going to volunteer this summer, like I did when I was a teenager. Plus, she’s going to suggest to the chair of the building committee and the water biodiversity committee that I be allowed to attend the meetings because of my degrees.”
“Emily, that’s wonderful. And Ben?”
Emily’s face falls. “I went to his office. I told him about Serena. I did everything but lie on the floor hanging on to his ankles. No interest.”
“I doubt that.” Maggie tilts back her glass of iced latte. “He’s never stopped loving you, but your return is unexpected. It’s huge. You need to give him some time, Emily.”
“You’re right. But I’m not patient.”
“Guess you’ll have to learn to be.” She watches the little girls who are now kicking a soccer ball back and forth, running, giggling, falling over in the grass. “Tyler’s teaching Heather soccer. We don’t want her to be all girly-girly. But I can’t resist the pink fairy stuff, either.”
“I know.”
“Emily, think about putting Serena in day camp. Sun and Fun. Jascin at Maria Mitchell suggested it. I’ve enrolled Heather. Some days I could pick up Serena and bring her to my house. Heather would love that.”
“That’s really nice of you. Thanks, Maggie.”
“It’s easy to be nice when you’re happy.”
“Are you writing?”
“I’m playing at it.” Actually, Maggie has sent her finished manuscript to an agent. This is a secret only she and Tyler know. Someday, depending on what happens, she’ll tell Emily. She might want Emily to read and critique it. But—not yet. Two events in her life she’ll keep silent about with Emily. Certainly, she’ll never tell her about Cameron. And her novel? She’ll see.
Emily says, “I’d love for Serena to see Shipwreck House—is it still standing?”
Maggie smiles. “It is. Heather and I go there a lot.”
“Could Serena and I ever visit there?”
“Of course,” Maggie says. “We’ll take a picnic.”
Tyler and Maggie lie snuggled in bed, talking drowsily as they relax toward sleep.
“Emily’s nice, Ty,” Maggie murmurs. His arm is over her waist; she lazily tugs on the dark hair on his wrist. “Thank heavens, because Heather and Serena get along really well.”
“Tha
t’s good,” he responds lazily.
“She says she went to talk with Ben but he refuses to see Serena.”
“Give him time.”
“That’s what I said, but I’m not sure. He’s too stubborn for his own good.” She snuggles her hips against him, intimate and comfortable. “Life can be hard.”
Tyler shifts away from her a few inches. “Not this quickly, it’s not.”
“Stop.” She playfully slaps his hand. “I’m talking about … life. About living with people who have hurt you or offended you. You’ve been off the island for years. You probably can’t remember what a small community it is, how people can carry grudges across entire generations.”
Tyler rises up on one elbow. “Are you kidding? How do you think it feels when someone who once tormented me, bullied me, called me four-eyes, knocked me around, walks into my office needing glasses?”
Worried, Maggie turns over to face him. “How does it feel, sweetheart?”
Tyler guffaws. “Great. They’re at my mercy now. They need my help, my expertise, they have problems with their sight, and that’s always scary. If I have to put drops in to dilate their pupils, or approach them with my tonometer, the strongest men usually sweat. Every now and then I’ve had a patient say in the middle of the exam, ‘Didn’t you used to go to school here?’ and I want to throw back my head and give out a mad scientist laugh.” Tyler cackles to demonstrate.
Maggie shoves him. “You do not, you idiot.” She rests her head against his chest. “Do you think I should go talk to Ben?”
“Who would that help?” Tyler counters.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Maggie sighs. “He is my brother, he’s Heather’s uncle, but he’s different now. Aloof, remote.”
“People change,” Tyler says simply.
“Yes,” Maggie agrees. “They do.”
“Give it time,” Tyler suggests again. “Let it happen naturally.”
“How Zen of you,” Maggie murmurs, relaxing into sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
It’s a glorious Saturday morning, the first hot calm day in June, the first real summer day. Three weeks have passed since Emily went to see Ben, and he hasn’t come to see Heather or called Emily or called Maggie to broach the subject with her.
Maybe Emily has patience, but Maggie doesn’t. As she bustles around her kitchen, she tucks her smart phone between her ear and shoulder and calls him on his cell. “Ben? Hey. We haven’t seen you for a while.”
“I’ve been busy,” Ben replies, his voice cool.
“I know you have. Your sales are in the paper all the time. But you’ve got to relax now and then. Listen, I’m taking Heather out to ’Sconset for a picnic and a swim today, and we want you to join us.” She’s already in her fetching maternity bathing suit, long tee shirt, and flip-flops.
“Maggie, could you possibly be any more transparent?”
In the family room, Heather is carefully packing her own picnic tote with her special mermaid beach towel and several flavors of Burt’s Bees Lip Balm, which Maggie allows her to use as ChapStick and Heather considers lipstick. Watching her happy child makes Maggie cheerful. She attempts an innocent tone with her brother. “About what? Chicken salad sandwiches? Your niece? Sunshine and a swim?”
“Is Tyler going?”
Ben and Tyler get along as well as can be expected when Ben is so cranky and aloof. “No, his office is open on Saturdays in the summer. Busy—you know.”
“I’m busy, too.”
“I’m sure. Plus, you’re a coward.” She drops the word sweetly into the conversation. One thing a sister knows how to do is ruffle her brother’s feathers.
Sounds of huffing breath steam through the phone. Then Ben growls, “Oh, for God’s sake, Maggie.”
Ha! She’s hooked him. “What? You’re not a coward?”
Grumpily, Ben says, “I don’t care about her anymore. I’m over her. The end.”
“Oh, okay. I didn’t realize that.” Maggie’s voice is treacly, syrupy sweet. “Sorry I insulted you. But hey, since you’re totally over her, it won’t bother you if you come to the beach with us and run into Emily and her daughter—who’s your daughter, by the way, and looks exactly like you.”
An irritated sigh fills her ears. “Maggie. What do you think you’re doing?”
In a deep little pocket of her heart, like a bump in a giant tree, an old childhood elf jumps up and down, giggling mischievously, still alive from those days long ago when Ben used to torment her and she used to tease him. Thank heavens she’s having another child! Who but a sibling can you annoy with such delicious wickedness?
“What am I doing? Inviting you to come see me and Heather at ’Sconset. I’m taking a picnic.” She double-checks to make sure she has sunblock in her bag.
“No, thanks. Now go away, Maggie.” Ben clicks off.
When Maggie and Heather arrive at the ’Sconset beach parking lot, they find Emily and Serena already settled in the sand. Emily jumps up to help Maggie unload. Serena races to take Heather by the hand, pulling her down to the beach, both of them prattling rapidly about the sand house they’re going to build. Emily lugs Maggie’s cooler in her arms.
“I called Ben.” Maggie carries a load of beach towels and blankets. “He said he’s not coming.” Still, she wonders if he just might show up.
Emily glances at Maggie, but keeps a stiff upper lip.
“He went on the defensive instantly,” says Maggie. “I don’t think he’d be that way if he were really truly one hundred percent over you.” As Maggie and Emily prepare their spot, holding down the blanket from the breeze by setting coolers, baskets, bottles on the corners, Maggie sings, “He’s got you under his skin.”
Emily scans the water. “The waves are fairly large today. We should have gone to Jetties.”
“Nah. It will be too crowded. This is fine. We’ll keep an eye on the girls. Anyway, I don’t let Heather swim out here unless I’m with her.” As Maggie lowers her bulk into a beach chair, she eyes Emily. “A bikini. Wow. Look at you.”
Emily sits, too. “I’d rather look like you.”
“You mean pregnant?”
Emily sighs. “Cameron didn’t want another child. At least not with me. We weren’t exactly happy together when he … when the plane crashed. The truth is, I’m pretty sure he was having an affair.”
“I’m sorry.” Maggie can hear the pain in Emily’s voice. How complicated love is. Emily has never stopped loving Ben, but in a way Emily loved Cameron, too.
“Her name was Jessica Beckett. She was an intern in his firm’s office. She was lovely—actually, Maggie, she looked a lot like you. Cameron wanted to do the right thing, and so he married me when I told him I was pregnant. When he saw Serena’s black hair, he was suspicious, angry, but he didn’t want to embarrass me, send me out into the snowstorm clutching my babe like a Charles Dickens heroine … and we did care for each other. We worked hard, trying to love each other, trying to make a family.”
Watching the girls play, Maggie reminds Emily: “You did make a family for five years. Serena is a happy child.”
Lost in her own thoughts, Emily muses, “Jessica Beckett’s name was on the manifest of the plane that crashed. The firm had a memorial service for all seven people on board. I met her parents. We sympathized with each other … of course they had no idea.” Emily puts her face in her hands. “It shouldn’t have happened, Maggie. The plane shouldn’t have crashed. Cameron and I could have divorced, and Serena would have been fine, she hardly saw him anyway, and he could have married Jessica and been truly deeply sincerely loved. I could have come back here …” When she looks up at Maggie, her face shines with tears. “It’s not fair. That I’m here, in this place I cherish, and poor Cameron is dead.”
Reaching across the beach chairs, Maggie hugs Emily. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t cause it. You couldn’t have prevented it. We don’t know everything, Emily. Perhaps Cameron is happier now in some other universe—”
; Emily sniffs. “I don’t believe that stuff.”
“That’s your prerogative. Lots of scientists do.” Pushing up off the chair, Maggie opens the cooler, takes out two Diet Cokes, hands one to Emily and keeps one for herself. “The point is, you are not responsible for the plane crash. You are responsible for her.” She nods toward the edge of the water where the two little girls kneel industriously in the sand, creating their sand city.
Heather senses her mother looking and waves. Serena tells Heather something. Both girls run up the beach to their mothers.
“We want to swim!” They’re silly together, clapping hands, jumping up and down, making a racket.
“Fine,” Maggie agrees. “Let’s put your water wings on.”
“I don’t need water wings,” Serena boosts. “I passed the test at the pool.”
“This is not the pool, Little Missy,” Emily assures her daughter. “This is the ocean, and you’re wearing your floaties.”
“I’m a water fairy! I’m a water fairy!” Heather lifts and drops her water-winged arms, pirouetting a slow circle in the sand.
“Whoever heard of a water fairy!” Serena scoffs, but she relents, allowing her mother to fasten on the water wings.
“I’ve seen water fairies!” Heather brags as the girls run toward the water.
“You mean mermaids!” Serena insists.
Emily glances fondly at Maggie. “I wonder where Heather gets her imagination.”
“Or Serena,” Maggie grunts in reply, shoving herself to her feet.
“Are you going in the water?”
“Of course. I never let Heather swim in the ocean unless I’m right next to her. She’s only five. She’s a great swimmer, but the currents can be wicked here on certain days.”
“Oh, really?” Emily responds with a tang of acid. “I had no idea.”
“Stop. I realize you consider this your beach—”
“I swam here every summer, growing up.”
“Really?” Maggie teases. “I did not know that.”