The Book of Summer

by Michelle Gable

  “I can’t say it enough,” Mary prattled on.

  Indeed, she could not.

  “You’re finally taking things seriously. You even seemed nervous about it! Jittery! There might be hope for you yet.”

  Ruby nodded reflexively, still wound up not by the drill but by what she’d found in Topper’s room.

  What had she seen? Something. Nothing. A teensy part of Ruby wanted to show Mary, get a check from another stance, but the fuddy-duddy would no doubt misread the situation entirely. Plus, Mary hated Tops’s photography hobby. She deemed it unseemly for his class of man.

  Hattie. Now, she would know what to make of it. Hell, Hattie was probably peeping over his shoulder when the Rolleiflex went click. The thought made Ruby brighten, for a spell.

  “I need to tell you something,” Mary said as they pulled back the living room drapes. “With Philip away, I’ve struggled with my place in this world. Who am I? What am I contributing? I’m not a mom. I’m barely a wife with him gone. And, so … well, there’s no easy way to say this, but I’ve applied to nursing school.”

  Ruby’s eyes bugged. She whipped around to face her sister-in-law.

  “Nursing school?” she gasped.

  “Yes. Down Washington way. This war looks to be long and I can do more. The government is subsidizing schools now, helping to fast-track the training. I could be with the army inside of two years.”

  “The army? You mean like P.J.? You’ve designs of joining him on the front? Mary, I understand you want to be together, I feel the same way about Sam, but you can’t just—”

  “No, no, no,” Mary said. “This isn’t about Philip. It’s about me. And anyway the official posting would be with the Red Cross. If I’m accepted overseas, I’d be sworn into the army.”

  “Wow … uh … that’s swell, Mare,” Ruby said, somewhat disingenuously.

  It was preposterous to envision Mary shipping out. There were already enough of them headed “overseas,” thank you. Not to mention, what soldier wanted to wake up from being shot with the grim reaper incarnate hovering above his bed?

  “You’d make a keen nurse,” Ruby guessed, to be nice.

  She really wouldn’t go, would she? The idea seemed fanciful, at best.

  “I haven’t decided for certain,” Mary said. “It’d be a big change and I’d hate leaving you alone.”

  “Don’t worry about little old me…”

  “And I still have to be accepted. But if I do leave, I’d like to recommend you to replace me as air warden.”

  Ruby gave a small chortle. Oh dear Mary. The passing of her most cherished baton. It would never happen. Mary was all talk. Not too long ago, she was brooding around Cliff House, pregnant with an invisible baby.

  “Sure, sounds like a gas,” Ruby said, and breezed out into the entryway.

  “Good gravy, here we go again,” Mary called. “Ruby, you need to get serious. I can’t entrust you with this important position if you won’t commit with your whole heart!”

  Shaking her head, Ruby flicked on the lights of the foyer’s three-hundred-pound lantern. She’d never fully get on Mary’s good side, would she? Not that Ruby was much for trying.

  As Mary squawked on, Ruby lifted the blackout shades. The windows were gorgeous in that room, a damned shame to have such glum housewares hooked on to them.

  “Ruby, are you listening?” Mary yelled.

  “Sure, sure,” she mumbled.

  Ruby hiked up the final shade. She turned and glanced out the windows flanking the front door. At once she spotted an arc of red over the privet hedge, the color gleaming and recognizable even in that dusky light. It was the hood of a brand-spanking-new Packard Clipper, custom edition, bought before it was no longer fashionable to spend money in such ways.

  “Daddy!” she hollered, scrambling to unlock the door. “Mary! He’s here!”

  Without thinking, without a single notion that there could be bad news (Pay attention, Ruby! We’re at war!), she heaved open the door and broke into a full-bore sprint, losing one shoe along the way.

  “Daddy!” she yelled just as he was walking through the arbored gate.

  Ruby leapt at him and wrapped both arms around his neck.

  “It’s so great to see you!” she said. “You look fantastic! Not sick at all!”

  Wishful thinking, yes, but he did look all right. Daddy had always been reedy and pale, bowed one way or another. He was a scientist, for Pete’s sake. Those types didn’t come in brawny and tanned. He’d grown a tad blobsy around the middle, but who didn’t at age fifty-two?

  “Oh, petal,” Daddy said, giving Ruby a squeeze before dropping her to the ground. “More beautiful by the day. This grandchild of mine has lit you from within.”

  Ruby peered up at the man, to beam in thanks, not to mention ask how long he planned to stay and was Mother in the car. She’d been a real grump lately, by the by. Ruby hadn’t wanted to speak ill of her mom, but facts were facts, and there you go.

  “Daddy…” she started.

  And then she noticed the tears, the red-rimmed eyes.

  “Holy Mother of God!” Ruby jumped back, waiting to be growled at for her salty mouth.

  But Daddy did no such thing.

  “It’s Topper, isn’t it?” she said, voice shaking.

  Because of course it would be Topper. Dashing, handsome, reckless Robert Young. The brightest lights burned out quickest.

  “No, my petal. It’s not Topper. He’s fine. Training, same as always.”

  “P.J.?” Ruby glanced over her shoulder to see Mary standing in the doorway.

  “No, P.J. is…”

  “Sam?!” Ruby cried.

  It hadn’t occurred to her, it truly hadn’t.

  “No, no. They are all fine,” Daddy said, rubbing Ruby’s arm.

  “Oh praise God,” she said, sending a hundred little thanks up to the heavens.

  “Christ, Ruby. It kills me to do this to you. But … it’s your mom.”

  “Regarding Mother, do you know she’s only been out once this summer? The excuse is that she’s taking care of you. But you look wonderful! I mean it. Once, Daddy! She’s come out once! And I’m left to run Cliff House myself.” Ruby gave another compulsory peek over her shoulder. “With Mary, but you know how she is.”

  She griped on because Daddy had more to say and Ruby straight didn’t want to hear it.

  “Ruby…” he said, several times, trying to stop this train. “Ruby…”

  “Mother had better help close the house because I’m getting larger and less nimble by the day. I’m already past the halfway mark.”

  “Petal, I’m sorry. I hate to be the one to say this, but your mother. She’s gone.”

  Gone. No. Whatever those words were. No. It would never happen like that.

  “You’re lying,” Ruby said, though Daddy never did.

  It could not be true. The powerful, indelible Sarah Young would not be “gone” without some seismic shift rumbling them all. “Gone” like the fog, or your ration of sugar. No, Mother was not something that could vanish while you weren’t keeping track.

  “That’s not … it can’t be…”

  Ruby was nearly blinded by the tears filling her eyes. She felt Mary walk up behind her.

  “Papa Young?” Mary said. “What is it?”

  “My Sarah is gone,” he answered, now crying himself.

  Ruby’s heart shattered a million times over.

  “That can’t be!” she said. “Mother’s not even sick. She’s healthy as a horse.”

  “It took everyone by surprise. The doctors, me, friends in Boston.”

  “Friends in Boston?!” Ruby yelped. “They knew and we didn’t?”

  “It all happened so fast. She was sick and before we could tell you, she was gone. I didn’t think … we thought … I guess, when you get right down to it, we thought we had more time than we actually did. Ten years or ninety-nine. It’s simply never enough.”

  43

  The Book o
f Summer

  Philip E. Young

  August 31, 1942

  Cliff House, Sconset, Nantucket

  I never expected to write in this book.

  It was Sarah’s from the start and it feels like an intrusion, though she would not mind at all.

  But really it was my dear Sarah who shaped our family. We wouldn’t have Cliff House, the lookout from America’s edge, if not for her insistence. I’m so glad she pried the money from my miserly hands. She will live forever in this book and in this home.

  I’m not much of a writer. Or a reader. But I’ve enjoyed going through this Book of Summer. Sam’s story about the golf match had me laughing for the first time in a while. My greatest wish is that my bright and sparkling Ruby will likewise find some cheer in a not so distant future. I should take her on a spin through our summertime history as memorialized in this book. We’ve had a dang great time. A shame, I’ve only just realized.

  My petal is crushed by her mother’s sudden passing, which is what I feared and expected both. I can’t help but feel at fault, though Sarah would smack me at the thought. My lovely wife had breast cancer, discovered only a few months ago. That’s what happens when your mind’s on something else, like a sickly husband. You don’t have time to worry about yourself. And here I sit, alive and hacking. It’s not a bit fair, not that life ever is.

  Sarah hadn’t wanted to bother Ruby with the bad news so early in her pregnancy and the doctors said sweet, strong Sarah wouldn’t leave us soon. We planned to tell the family after summer’s end. My lovely bride couldn’t fathom ruining the magic of Cliff House with news like this. Then, last Sunday, Sarah took to bed feeling poorly. She never again stepped foot on the floor.

  Good-bye, dear Sarah, you will be missed more than this old scientist could rightly describe. Thank you for what you’ve built—a life, a family, and a house that will keep after the last of us is gone.

  Signed,

  Philip Young,

  Husband of Sarah,

  Also known as Dad

  44

  RUBY

  September 1942

  September 1, 1942

  Dear Ruby Red,

  It was darn aces to see you the other week, even if the reason was something less than keen. Mother gone. Can you believe it? I thought she was too reliable for any sort of illness or dying foolery. The best battleship ever conceived.

  My Red, it’s up to you. I hate putting on the squeeze but it’s the truth. This is Very Serious Business. You’re the heart of this family now, especially with the bun in that oven. Don’t let your grief get in the way of your obligations.

  Enough of that. Well. You asked me to write when I got “home.” Wherever that is. Right now I’m at the Davis-Monthan base in Tucson, AZ. Lord, I’m ready to be done with this training but we need it, and how. Flying these B-24s is like trying to fly a damned house, a pain in the rear even for yours truly, the strongest man to ever live. (Ha! Stop rolling your eyes!) And as nose gunner, I’m the guy who drops the bombs, which means a whole added level of complexity. Sorry, I’m boring you with my woes. The boys from Harvard find these stories endlessly fascinating but you’re too high-minded for such talk.

  Okay Red, you keep doing your thing. Don’t worry about me, or Sam, or P.J. for that matter. I saw a poster the other day outside the local watering hole—“The U.S. Needs Us Strong” it said. It was an advertisement for cheese bobbies so not exactly the thing on which hopes, dreams, or great countries are built. But the message is right, in any case.

  I love you, Ruby. I can’t wait until we blast Hitler to Kingdom come and the lot of us can get back to meeting up in Sconset every summer, like we’re meant to. Much better than time spent in a tin coffin, hurtling through the air. Sorry, sis! It’s just part of the job.

  Take care of yourself.

  All my love,

  Your brother,

  Topper

  * * *

  Daddy came out to Cliff House for the last weekend. Not because he wanted to, despite what he said, but because he had to.

  Who else would help Ruby close it up? Mother, dead. Two brothers and one husband, in the service. No able-bodied men to hire because they were fighting, too. Even Mary was gone, training in Washington just as she’d threatened to do. Ruby hadn’t thought she’d actually leave, but it seemed Mother’s death was the kick Mary was waiting for.

  The U.S. Needs Us Strong, Ruby repeated to herself over and over, so she didn’t fall into a sobbing heap on the floor. Red, you keep doing your thing.

  “I’m going back with you,” Daddy said, three days ago, when they’d gathered at the Youngs’ house on Commonwealth Ave. mere hours after burying Mother in Boston. “We’ll close up the summer place together.”

  Ruby could almost hear Mother screaming blue murder. As good as Daddy looked a week before, he’d aged a decade in but seven days. Ruby was pregnant but nonetheless in much better shape to close Cliff House, no bones about it. Alas, without the gentle guiding voice of Mother, Ruby couldn’t quite find her way.

  And so Philip Young returned to Sconset with his daughter, so they could conclude the season together. On the final night, they danced at the club like it was any old summer. Dad made a good show of standing tall, though he was brittle through his suit. As the band played “Someone to Watch Over Me,” Ruby bit down on her tongue to control her tears.

  “Gorgeous night, eh petal?” Daddy said, trying to keep Ruby moving across the floor.

  “Lovely,” she answered, then clenched down harder.

  “Sarah adored Labor Day Weekend.”

  Ruby nodded, once again hearing her mother’s voice in her mind.

  “What are you fussing about, Ruby?” she’d say, for Ruby was always a little boo-hoo at that last oyster party and during the farewell dance. “The end? Why, Ruby dear, the end is the best part. All the sugar is at the bottom of the cup.”

  Of course, there was hardly any sugar left in America these days.

  Insides trembling, Ruby rested her chin on Daddy’s shoulder so he could not see her face.

  “You hear from Mary yet?” he asked.

  “Not since the funeral. I’m glad things are going well for her.”

  Gosh darn it, Ruby missed that old gal, their favorite wet sock. Everyone needed a straight man and Cliff House had lost hers, for now. Another part Ruby would have to play. Jesus, this cast was getting slim. Ruby wondered how much more she’d have to take on.

  “P.J. must be proud,” Daddy said, spinning his daughter as much as his whittling strength would allow.

  “We all are,” she said.

  Daddy spun her again and Ruby let her weary body be dragged along. Lord, was she tired. Every piece of her was heavy and untethered. Even Ruby’s stomach, so often jumpy from the babe, was melancholy and still.

  “And how is Sam?” Daddy asked. “Bound for the South Pacific, you said?”

  “Yes, sir. Should be en route, aboard some newfangled vessel. They christened it with champagne and everything. The finest ship ever built, or so they claim. It’d better be anyway.”

  Funny how Ruby once regarded a ship as safer than a tank or plane. Meanwhile, the papers contained a never-ending barrage of reports about shot-up and sunken battleships. Ruby never considered that on a boat you could get pummeled from the water, shore, and sky.

  “The latest and greatest is the right spot for our Sam,” Daddy said. “Of course it’ll be impossible to completely relax until they’re all home.”

  Ruby sighed. Daddy was making her feel worse, the poor lug. Mother said half his sweetness was in his scientific nature, the very black-and-white of him. He never knew the right thing to say, which was aggravating but made him real and true.

  “Yes,” Ruby said. “Peace seems very far away.”

  As Daddy turned her around, Ruby caught sight of a military man standing at the edge of the dance floor. He was in a blue coat and black pants, his golden belt and buttons sparkling in the ballroom lights. With his
cropped black hair and regal air, Ruby had to catch herself. For a second, she thought it was Sam, even though he would’ve been togged out head to toe in blue.

  “Daddy, who’s that fellow?” Ruby asked.

  The man was strange, but not a stranger, which made it odder still. He was an army man, judging from the garb.

  “What’s that?” Daddy said.

  “Who’s that man?” she asked again. “That officer?”

  As Ruby continued to stare, her brain buzzed. The stranger offered a small wave.

  “Why, it’s Topper’s friend!” Daddy said. “That Nick fellow, from college. Come on, let’s go say hello.”

  * * *

  “Nick Cabot, you old devil,” Daddy said, shaking Nick’s hand with vigor, or at least as much vigor as he could muster. “Good to see you, sport. What brings you to the island?”

  “Here to visit some friends before I ship out,” Nick said, holding his hat against his heart. “I hoped to see Topper but haven’t heard from him in a while. Hello there, Ruby. You look beautiful as always.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a sniff, trying to work out why he made her so goosey.

  What was it he’d said about Hattie? There’s simply nothing to her. He called her an egoist—a would-be hedonist, too. As the memories came into full view, Ruby gave Nick the old side-eye and a little harrumph.

  “Topper, he’s…?” Nick winced. “He’s okay, right?”

  “Far as we know,” Daddy said. “The boy’s still training in Arizona. Sorry he’s been silent but don’t take it personal. Ruby’s the only one he regularly keeps up with. I go to her for all the nitty-gritty. Anyhow, I’ll leave you two for a catch-up. I need to step outside.”

  Ruby studied him. Daddy looked peaky. His face was shiny, dribbles of sweat collecting above his brows. It wasn’t even warm that night. A certain fear poked Ruby, sharp in her stomach.

  “So, Ruby,” Nick said, and forced a grin. “You look swell.”

  “Yes, you mentioned that,” she grumbled.