Nantucket Sisters

by Nancy Thayer

  Emily links her arm through Maggie’s. “Seriously, you great big water fairy …”

  “Water buffalo, more like,” Maggie jokes.

  “Can you swim in that condition?”

  “Honestly? Not far, simply because I can’t catch my breath as easily. But the water’s buoyant. I can float on my back like an otter. The girls won’t go out very far. I’ll be fine.”

  The wind comes from the east today, puffing in intermittent gusts, rippling the surface of the white breakers that slowly roll in to the beach. Heather and Serena are wading into the water, shrieking with glee as the cold froth splashes against their ankles, knees, bellies. Maggie wades in up to her thighs, stretches luxuriously, then gently lies down in the water, surrendering her body to its rhythms. A few feet away, Emily walks out farther, then dives underwater, swimming parallel to the shoreline.

  Maggie bobs on her back, lifting her head to check on the girls.

  “Mommy looks like a seal!” Heather calls, pointing at Maggie, whose short back cap of hair gleams glossily in the sun.

  Emily backstrokes to her daughter. “Swim with me.”

  “We’re baby whales!” Serena yells, throwing herself facedown in the water, splashing along vigorously next to Emily.

  “Fairy circle?” Heather paddles up to Maggie, her little body appearing to be all flapping arms and legs, tiny, vulnerable, and energetic.

  “Sure,” Maggie agrees, although she hesitates to leave the Zen-like calm of her float. Shifting her body around, she searches for the surface of the underwater sand with her feet. She’s farther out than she’d thought. The water comes to her chest. “Give me your hands.”

  This is one of Heather’s favorite games. Holding hands, arms stretched full length, Heather lies faceup while Maggie slowly twirls in a circle, singing a song with constantly changing words about water fairies who spin in circles in the ocean to make magic. Maggie changes the tempo, sometimes swirling slowly then suddenly whirling fast, and Heather screams with delight.

  Beneath Maggie’s feet, the firm wet sand is as familiar as a wooden floor, the wash of waves against her torso a cool rocking motion, lifting her up and setting her down. The sun pours down on the sea in a buttery light, igniting water, beach, hillside, town, cottages, dunes, sea grass, shoreline, water in a loop so bright she squints against such blaze. Had she ever thought she would be here, at this beach, with her own daughter, and with her childhood friend Emily, and Emily’s own daughter? No, they had never dreamed of such abundance, such happiness, such treasure.

  “Mommy, do that to me!” Serena pleads with Emily, who takes hold of her daughter’s hands and begins her own revolution.

  “Okay,” Maggie tells her daughter. “That’s all, Buglet. Mommy’s tired. Let’s go back closer to shore.”

  She releases Heather’s hands in order to wipe her face dry of the salt water that’s splashed into her eyes, stinging and almost blinding her.

  That’s when it happens. Later Maggie will blame herself. She knows this beach, these waters, the ocean’s fickle, sudden currents that shoot unexpectedly from nowhere, blasting away from the shore, out to the deep Atlantic. She should not have let go of Heather’s hands.

  A white-tipped wave, higher than any others she’s seen this morning, rises up in front of Maggie and slams her down, smashing her into the sand several feet below the surface. Maggie struggles through the flooding, glistening water to stand. The constant shove and suck of the tide disorients her, dizzies her. She slips and with great effort rights herself.

  Wiping her eyes, she searches for Heather. Her heart is thudding hard from her exertions, and it triple-times as she sees the heaving water empty of any sign of her child.

  “Maggie!”

  Maggie turns toward Emily, who is staggering as if drunk a few yards away. “What the fuck!” Emily screams. “What was that? It ripped Serena right out of my hands.”

  “I’ve lost Heather!” Maggie screams. She sees color bobbing not far from Emily. “There!” Pointing, she directs Emily’s eyes. “There’s Serena.”

  Emily heads off in a steady, determined crawl.

  Maggie scans the water again and now she sees Heather, a streak of blond hair, a blotch of bright green water wing.

  Holding her arm as high as it will reach, Maggie waves, yelling, “I’m coming, Heather!”

  As she swims toward her daughter, Maggie silently assures herself of Heather’s skill. She’s been swimming in this ocean since she was a toddler. She’s been dunked and flipped and knocked down by strong waves plenty of times. She knows the ocean. She won’t be afraid.

  But she hasn’t been caught in a current before, Maggie realizes, as her efforts to reach Heather tire her but appear to take her no closer. The current is frigid, much colder than the water near shore, propelling Heather aggressively south, carrying her tiny body, like a piece of flotsam, away from the safety of land. Heather flails with her small arms, her head bobbing up and down as the waves lift and drop her. Maggie’s tiring. Her belly weighs her down, it is another force she has to fight against.

  The current is inexorable, a roaring freight train of energy. Terror explodes in Maggie’s chest. Redoubling her efforts, she battles on into the icy cold, into deeper water, where the sun’s warmth can’t penetrate.

  “Go back!”

  With salt-reddened eyes, Maggie sees Emily swimming next to her. “Go back! I’ll get her!” In a long ivory gleam, Emily shoots past Maggie, her strong arms carrying her out farther and farther from shore.

  Maggie treads water, reluctant to give up the struggle to save Heather, seeing—when the waves aren’t splashing her face—how quickly Emily is covering the distance to the child. Maggie’s heart beats so fast it blanks a blackness over her eyes, signaling her to rest or faint. She treads water. She watches.

  A glistening turquoise hill breaks over Maggie, thrusting her into the depths. She swims upward into the light. She sees Emily reach Heather, grasp Heather’s wrist, tug her toward her. Another wave slams Maggie’s face, blasting her entire body backward—and then she’s free of the current. Waves rock her up and down as she watches Emily grip Heather faceup, in a lifeguard’s head hold.

  Calming, Maggie looks back at shore. Serena stands on the edge of the sand, her arms wrapped around herself. Maggie swims. She will reach Serena, wrap her in a sun-warmed towel, and hold her tightly as they watch Emily tow Heather back to safety.

  She staggers onto the sand, weak, shaking, gasping, trying not to throw up.

  She hears voices.

  She is on her hands and knees. “Serena?” she croaks.

  A man is with Emily’s daughter. He’s squatting in the sand next to her, handing her a towel, speaking to her softly. He’s not touching her—he knows she doesn’t know who he is, and he doesn’t want to frighten her. Serena hurriedly wraps the towel around her shoulders. She’s listening intently, nodding her head as the man talks. Her black hair gleams in the light, exactly like Ben’s hair gleams as he speaks to her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Ben.” Maggie collapses on her bum, allowing herself to focus on catching her breath. After a moment, she says, “Serena. This is my brother, Ben. Ben, this is Emily’s daughter, Serena.”

  Serena is still shivering. “Is Mommy getting Heather?”

  Maggie holds out her arms. “Come here, honey. We’ll warm each other up. Ben, would you please bring me a towel?”

  “Sure.” Her brother stands and heads up the beach to their little nest, returning with a large striped towel, which he wraps around Maggie’s shoulders.

  Serena runs to sit in Maggie’s lap. Because of Maggie’s belly, she has to sit sideways, and her pointed knees jab into Maggie.

  “I was scared!” Serena tells Maggie. “The water swooshed me off away from Mommy. I couldn’t see her, but then she found me, and she pulled me back to shore, then she saw you and Heather, and she ran into the ocean, she swam so fast. Did you see her swim so fast?”

  �
�I saw her.” Maggie squeezes Serena tightly against her. “I saw her swim so fast, Serena. I’ve never seen anyone swim that fast. Look, here she comes, I can see her face, I can see Heather’s head. They’re coming closer.”

  Serena gawks at Maggie, alarmed. “You’re crying!”

  “It’s all right,” Maggie assures the little girl. “They’re happy tears.”

  Ben sits next to them, his large, warm body’s presence a comfort. “Drink,” he says, handing them each a bottle of water.

  Dutifully, they sip the water, although Maggie feels guilty taking this relief when Emily is still out in the ocean, fighting her way back. But Emily has reached the safety zone where an adult can stand on the sand, with her head above water, and Emily does this for a moment, resting, breathing, holding Heather, whose arms are around Emily’s neck.

  “Mommy!” Serena jumps off Maggie’s lap and runs to the water’s edge. “Heather! Mommy saved you!”

  Ben stands and extends his hands to pull Maggie up. “You okay?”

  Maggie can’t speak. She runs to the water, to gather her little girl in her arms.

  Emily sprawls facedown on the sand, her rib cage expanding as she wheezes, breathing in the air for which her lungs are starving. One hand still grips Heather by her wrist.

  “Emily. I’ve got her.” Maggie pulls Heather to her, framing her face in her hands, checking the color of her skin, her eyes.

  Heather is panting, crying, and shaking so hard her teeth rattle. But she’s breathing, her color is good, she’s not vomiting, she’s not unconscious, she’s only very frightened. “Mommy!” she cries as she hurls herself against Maggie, hugging Maggie hard.

  Serena runs to her mother. “Mommy, Mommy, are you okay?”

  Maggie can see Emily’s back heaving as she regains her body’s equilibrium. Emily rolls to a sitting position, reaches out, and brings her daughter onto her lap.

  “Mommy, I was really scared,” Serena cries.

  Emily’s voice is low when she speaks to her daughter, low because she hardly has the strength to speak. Maggie can see this, how weak Emily is, how she’s battling not to let Serena know, and she wishes she could help her, but she can’t move, pinned down with her wet, rescued, shuddering daughter and her own lumpy, fright-weakened body. Maggie opens her mouth to say, “Ben, help her,” but before she can speak, Ben goes to Emily.

  “I’m going to pick you up, Emily,” he says. He turns to Serena. “I’m going to carry your mother up to her beach chair. Run and find the biggest towel you can to wrap around her.”

  While Serena scampers up the beach, Ben squats down, slides his arms beneath Emily’s body, and stands, holding her in his arms. She submits, resting her head on his chest. To Maggie, they look like lovers.

  Emily remains limp as her daughter bustles around her, tucking beach towels over her, lifting her feet to wrap the towel firmly, babbling excitedly, “Mommy, that was scary! I couldn’t see Heather! I didn’t know what to do! I was crying, Mommy! When we swam way out in the ocean, I couldn’t see you. I was cold.”

  “Sssh,” Emily says. “Sssh, baby. It’s all over now. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.” She pulls Serena onto her lap and cuddles her, kissing her head. Kissing her damp, gleaming black hair. “See how smart it was to wear your water wings? They kept you and Heather floating, even in the big waves. Did you feel that, how they helped you?”

  As she speaks to her daughter, soothing them both with her voice and their mutual embrace, she’s aware that Ben is standing awkwardly to the side, watching them.

  He came, she thinks. He said he wouldn’t come, but he did. He’s here.

  The rush of adrenaline that fueled her swim left her dizzy and nauseous when she first hit the shore, but now it’s receding, leaving behind, in her body and heart, a powerful brightness of joy. Serena’s okay, and Maggie’s okay, and she, Emily, saved Maggie’s daughter’s life!

  “Did you drink some water, Serena?” she asks. “Can you reach that water bottle? Mommy needs a good long drink of unsalted water.”

  She sees Maggie awkwardly maneuver herself into standing position. Maggie takes Heather’s hand and they walk to Emily, where Maggie drops to her knees.

  “Emily. Thank you. How can I ever thank you enough? You saved Heather’s life.”

  Emily scoots to the edge of her chair so her arms can reach around Maggie’s bulk in a long, hard hug. Heather and Serena dance and jump around them, crying in their shrill voices, “Mommy, don’t be sad!” The rim of the aluminum beach chair cuts into Emily’s bum. Maggie’s low on strength and leaning on Emily more than embracing her, and the girls are as exasperating as mosquitoes, as precious as the sun.

  Emily pulls away, croaking in a bad actor’s voice, “Honestly, can’t a woman have a good honest sob around here?”

  “Mommy,” Serena says, “I’m hungry!”

  Emily, Maggie, and Ben laugh. Probably their laughter is more explosive than it would be normally—they are all relieved, grateful, and exhausted. Emily lifts her arms away from Maggie.

  “Hungry,” Emily says. “Right.” But her brain is moving slowly and it can’t come to a decision about food.

  Maggie stands. “Okay, Serena, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m taking you and Heather to our house. You’ll both curl up on the sofa with the puffy puffy quilt and watch your favorite DVDs. I’m going to make you grilled cheese sandwiches and give you all the chocolate chip cookies you want for dessert.”

  Serena cocks her head. “I thought we were having a picnic.”

  Maggie is already gathering up her beach bag and blankets. “No picnics when little girls have been swept away by the waves. That’s a rule. After something like that, it’s necessary to go home and rest.”

  “Mommy!” Heather stamps her foot, spraying sand. “I don’t want to rest!”

  “Doesn’t matter. You need to rest. I need to watch you, keep an eye on your color, be sure you’re drinking water, and you are tired, whether or not you think you are.”

  “Mommy!” Heather argues.

  “Heather? This is non-negotiable.”

  Heather sags. “Okay.”

  Serena stares at her own mother questioningly.

  “Serena, go with Maggie. I have to sit here and regain my strength. I’ll be there soon.”

  “What about him?” Serena points at Ben.

  “This is my friend Ben. He’s going to stay and help me. Then we’ll both come to Heather’s house.”

  Serena shrugs, but willingly follows Maggie and Heather as they trudge up the sand to the parking lot.

  After the others have gone, the beach is quiet. No gull flies overhead, and the waves, which roared around Emily with such drama, peacefully lap the shore.

  “Ben,” Emily says, patting the beach chair next to her. “Come sit down.”

  He sits. For a moment they both stare at the rolling blue water.

  “You came,” Emily says.

  “Yes.” Ben clears his throat. “Emily, thank you. You saved Heather’s life.”

  He is very serious, this man she has known since they were children. He wants badly to do everything right, and his earnestness pierces her heart. She does love him, still loves him, and she wants to make him happy. To lighten his heart. To make him smile.

  “Well, after all,” Emily says, “you once told me I was a warrior princess.”

  “Wow,” Ben says. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Emily tells him, gently knocking the side of his knee with hers.

  A small smile lifts his lips. “Okay, maybe I didn’t.”

  Emily decides to go for broke: “She’s yours, you know. Serena. She’s your daughter.”

  “Certainly looks that way.” Ben’s voice is hoarse.

  Emily studies this man, this obstinate, wonderful, proud, deeply beloved man. His face is tanned, and lines extend from his eyes and gently etch the sides of his mouth. His long black lashes hide his blue eyes. She can’t read his express
ion. But he’s here. He drove out to be here, and he stayed here beside Emily.

  “She’s our daughter,” Emily says. She sees his Adam’s apple move as he swallows. “Ben.” Reaching over, she puts her hand on top of his. “If I could change things, I would. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I’m sorry I went through the charade of the marriage I had with Cameron. But I didn’t feel I had any choice.”

  “I was a total ass. I’m sorry.” Ben moves his hand away from hers. He stands up. He’s wearing a faded blue bathing suit and a white rugby shirt.

  Her heart stalls. He’s leaving.

  “Let’s walk,” he says, extending his hand. “I mean—can you walk? Have you rested enough?”

  “I’m fine.” Emily’s more than fine, she’s delirious as she takes Ben’s hand and lets him pull her up.

  Together they go down the beach, walking parallel to the shore, for a few silent minutes as quiet as an old married couple taking a stroll. The sand is warm to their feet, the sun warm on their backs. The tide floods up in a white lacework of foam and retreats, the water sinking into the sand, making it shine like satin.

  “I never stopped loving you,” Ben says.

  “Oh, Ben.” All at once, the weakness from her exertions in the water, combined with the glorious shock of Ben finally saying he loves her, slams into the backs of her knees. She wobbles. She leans against his arm. “Wow, I think you literally knocked me off my feet.”

  He turns to face her, putting both hands on her waist to hold her steady as he looks down at her. “Are you okay?”

  His eyes are a deeper blue than the ocean, a more sober blue than the sky. They blaze at her with the intensity of cobalt, warming her, sustaining her, adoring her. Adoring her.

  “I’ve never been better in my life,” she tells him, wrapping her arms around him. “Hold me,” she says.

  Ben pulls her closer to him. She rests against his firm body, hearing the steady beat of his heart, savoring the warm strength of his arms around her waist.

  “Why are you crying?” he asks, lifting her face to meet his.

  “Happy tears,” she tells him. “Serena can explain what that means.”