by Blake, Toni
She pulled in her breath—feeling the pain in his words more than in any he’d ever said to her before. “But that seems like all the more reason to tell him you’re his grandson. To talk things out. To have him back in your life.”
“No,” he said. Low and swift. So very sure. “Do this for me. It’s the one thing I’ll ask of you that you don’t want to do—nothing else.”
Secrets. She hadn’t had many in her life. But she was keeping one now, from Zack. And it was making her understand that, for better or worse, it had to be hers to share if and when she chose to. Secrets were seldom good in her opinion, but the one they were discussing wasn’t hers to tell—much as she hated knowing this and not being able to run up to Mr. McNaughton’s room right now screaming the news.
“I think it’s a huge mistake,” she told him, “but okay.”
He gave a short nod. “Thank you, darlin’. It’s what’s best—for me.” He placed his hand on the back of her head then and bent to kiss her forehead.
And her thoughts whirled. Maybe it wasn’t best for Seth’s grandpa. Maybe she shouldn’t be letting Seth kiss even her forehead if she was trying to pull back. Maybe her life was beginning to spiral out of control.
* * *
SETH HAD HEADED to his cabin for a while. She’d asked if he’d be back this evening without even knowing if she should want that, but—for better or worse—she’d gotten used to having him around. And the idea of making dinner for herself alone, without him, suddenly felt...bigger than it should have. You barely know him. And he promised you he’d told you everything when he hadn’t. And then there was Zack—changing, learning to express himself, making her feel valued. So why did she want Seth back here?
She truly wasn’t sure. Because—chemistry and passion aside—she felt more uncertain about him than ever. She kept thinking all the questions about him were answered, but that never turned out to be true. At least not so far.
Mr. McNaughton was right—spring was bursting all around them. Even though it was technically summertime now. Spring came later to the island than in most parts of the United States. Pink tulips her grandma had planted the year before she died had opened below the parlor window, and white and blue hyacinths bloomed with their burst of perfume near the back patio. Redbud trees had just passed from purple to green, but the blossoms on the pink-and-white dogwoods across the street, skirting the lake’s edge, had outlasted them.
All those colors were how this island came back to life after a long, cold winter. And something in Meg had come back to life, too—because of Seth. Maybe he really was her Ace, her adventure, her dalliance, her brief moment of grabbing on to something that wasn’t good for her. And if so, maybe it was time to let go.
She went inside to find that all remained quiet—even with a couple of guests in residence now, only Miss Kitty greeted her with a swish of her calico tail as she walked in the front door. So she grabbed up her grandma’s diary from where she’d been keeping it on a shelf in the nook, and took it back out to the garden.
May 5, 1957
Dear Diary,
It’s almost summer even though it barely feels like spring here. But I got my bicycle out and J.T. tightened the chain for me, so I’m all ready for better weather. I got a new pair of pedal pushers, too, in St. Simon two weekends ago—they were on sale at Bergman’s.
We also bought the prettiest yellow fabric I’ve ever seen—Mother is making me a new dress! I hear the sewing machine going right now, so maybe it will be ready for Mary Ann Hoskins’ birthday party on Saturday. J.T. is taking me and there will be party games, food, records, and dancing.
Though I’m sorry to say that getting this dress made came with a price. Last week, Mother sent me to the Five and Dime up Harbor Street for some thread—we forgot to get matching thread at Bergman’s, so I took a swatch of the fabric with me. And when I went to the counter to pay, a new boy was working the soda fountain and register. He was smiling at me in the funniest way—until I finally recognized him. It was Ace! That awful boy who practically manhandled me at the dance in St. Simon!
Imagine my surprise at seeing him here, on the island! I barely recognized him without the James Dean jacket. I asked him, “What are you doing here?”
And he just laughed—the nerve of him!—and said, “Aren’t you glad to see me?”
I told him no, of course!
And yes, perhaps I have thought more about that kiss than I should. But only because it was so jarring and strange.
And do you know what he did then? He walked over to the soda fountain and gave me a free black cow! Without Mr. Lyman’s permission! I’ve been going to Mr. Lyman’s store as long as I can remember and I would never want to steal from him! I tried to refuse it, but Ace wouldn’t take no for an answer and I eventually realized it was just easier to drink the stolen soda than to argue the point. And the creep wouldn’t ring up my thread until I did!
He tried to lure me into conversation the entire time, but at least I got him to explain what on earth he’s doing working in Mr. Lyman’s store—it turns out that Mr. Lyman is his uncle! Ace is spending the entire summer here on the island working for him.
I smartly told him he hadn’t seemed like the type of fellow to put in an honest day’s work, and that his insistence on giving me a free soda only made me think all the worse of him. And the lout laughed! Then he told me he was saving up to buy a car. A ’47 Chevy hot rod. Although I didn’t let it show, I admit this caught my interest because of never having been around cars much. I’ve ridden in a few on the mainland, and it’s rather fun.
Before he finally rung up the thread, he told me I’d stayed on his mind. I said, “You don’t even know me.” And he said, “Yes I do, Peggy Sue Winters.” I couldn’t keep from gasping, and then I demanded to know how he knew my name. He said he’d asked around after the dance. And I asked him why.
He said because I kissed so good.
And, diary, I’m pretty sure my face turned beet red! I mean, the gall of some people!
Then he said that was part of the reason he’d agreed to come to Summer Island, because he knew I lived here. And he was glad I’d come to buy thread. And he wanted to see me again.
My heart was beating so hard by this time that I could barely breathe. But I told him, “Look, Ace or whatever your name is, I have a boyfriend! And we’re getting married and leaving this stupid island!”
And he said, “That dunce you came to the dance with?” He seriously called J.T. a dunce. So I said, “J.T. is far smarter than you’ll ever be!” And he said, “How do you figure, Peggy Sue?” And I very smartly said, “Well, he’s got me for a girlfriend, doesn’t he? And you don’t.” And then I took my change and walked out.
I felt pretty pleased with my parting line, but inside I was shaking. There’s something about him, diary, that just makes me nervous. Even without the jacket and the liquor on his breath, he feels dangerous to me. Just standing behind the counter at the Five and Dime.
After I got home and gave Mother the thread, I went to my room and shut the door for a while, just trying to calm down. He didn’t kiss me this time, thank goodness, but...maybe it felt the same as when he did.
Later, I went to J.T.’s house. His mother made us tomato soup and grilled cheese because it’s chilly out, even for May, and then we played Sorry with his sister. He walked me home and gave me a nice kiss goodnight on the porch. Everything seemed right again. And it made me look forward to a life far away from here.
I thought of telling him about this Ace character, but decided it would only create trouble. It will be easier if I just figure out how to keep my distance from the Five and Dime while Ace is on the island. Though it might make for a long summer.
J.T. graduates next month already, and he got into horticulture school and will go to Michigan State in the fall! And next year I’ll graduate, too. I can’t wait to move to the mainl
and and marry J.T. and have babies, and a car, and begin our happy life. One without unpleasant surprises in James Dean jackets.
Yours, impatiently awaiting the future,
Peggy
Meg stopped reading, drinking in the scent of lilacs on a passing breeze. Then she looked at the diary in her hand and shook her head. Clearly, her grandma had been smitten by the bad boy, and Meg had been just as surprised as young Peggy to see “this Ace character” turn up on the island.
She wished she’d had the chance to read the diary before her grandmother had passed—she had so many questions. Though it was fun to envision teenage versions of Gran and Grandpa and Aunt Julia sitting around a table playing Sorry or Monopoly. And she supposed her main question was one she already knew the answer to. While part of her wondered if Gran had ever harbored any regrets about staying with Grandpa John over exploring the forbidden, ducktailed Ace, the rest of her knew her grandparents had been happy and totally devoted, like two peas in a pod.
She turned the page, eager to see what other tidbits of excitement her grandma’s summer had held. Was the dress done on time for the party? And had she managed to stay out of the Five and Dime? Maybe it was a nice distraction from her own problems to delve more deeply into her grandma’s in 1957.
May 12, 1957
Dear Diary,
Mary Ann’s party was such fun. J.T. surprised me with flowers when he came to the door, and Mother went on and on about it. She found the perfect vase for them and took them up to my room.
He also surprised me with how good he’s gotten at jitterbugging just since the sock hop! He and his sister have been practicing because he knows I like to dance. We ate a delicious yellow butter cake Mary Ann’s grandma made, then played Pin the Tail on the Donkey and had a three-legged race in her yard. And after that, we spun records and danced all night!
J.T. suggested sodas from the fountain at Mr. Lyman’s on the walk home, and I had to pretend I was full from cake even though it had been hours since we’d eaten. I hate fibbing to him, but it was for the best. And when he kissed me goodnight, I thanked him for being the most wonderful boyfriend in the world and he gave me the sweetest smile.
Only then the craziest thing happened, diary. I had just put on my pajamas and turned out the light in my room when I heard something on the window pane—a knocking sound. I walked over to look out—and that crazy boy Ace was sitting right there, on the roof outside my window!
You better believe I opened that window and gave him what for! I asked him what the devil he thought he was doing and told him he was going to break through onto the porch. Then I demanded he get down right that instant.
But, diary, you know Ace well enough by now to guess that’s not what he did.
He said I didn’t belong with that straitlaced boyfriend of mine, that I belonged with him! Belonged, he said! Like he had the right to say something like that! I pointed out that I don’t even know him, and he said I knew him enough, and that he wanted to know me much better. He doesn’t lack for confidence, that’s for darn sure!
When I told him again that J.T. and I planned to leave Summer Island and never come back, he caught me off guard, saying it seemed like a nice place, and that maybe I wouldn’t like the outside world so much once I got there. He’s so presumptuous!
I said I wanted freedom, to be able to go places and drive a car. And he said, “Sure, I get that way of thinking, Peggy Sue. Got to have someplace to drive my hot rod when I get it, after all. But I’m just saying this place ain’t so bad.”
We talked about other things then—he told me about his family, and where he lived; he claimed to be a card shark, and told me he likes to shoot pool. He laughed and said that was the one thing this island was missing, a pool hall. I told him nice places didn’t have pool halls. He said he guessed he couldn’t have his cake and eat it, too.
I admitted that saying had never made good sense to me, and he said, “That’s ’cause we’re all saying it wrong.” He claimed the original way it had been said back in historical times was: A man cannot have his cake and eat his cake. Which maybe makes a little more sense, but not much. Anyway, I asked him how he knew such a thing and he said he’d read it in a book. I said, “You don’t strike me as a fellow who would do much reading.” He said I shouldn’t make assumptions and that maybe there was more to him than met the eye. And that intrigued me, just a bit.
So I asked him, “Did you really rob a liquor store?”
He looked at me—and I would be lying if I said he didn’t have nice eyes—and asked, “What’s the right answer, yes or no?”
“The truth is the right answer,” I said.
He told me, “No, Peggy Sue, I didn’t rob anyplace. Just got into an argument with the owner for opening a bottle before I paid for it.”
“And drinking it without paying for it?” I asked pointedly, remembering that black cow.
He just shrugged.
And I said, “You’re bad. You do bad things.”
And he said, “Maybe I just need a good girl to make me want to be better.”
My heart fluttered at that, but I don’t know why. And it had been almost like we were friendly there for few minutes, but then I remembered everything that was so wrong about the situation and demanded again that he get off my roof. I said if my father found him there, he’d be in for it!
And do you know what he did then, diary? He said, “All right, but I’ll be seeing you again, Peggy Sue, real soon.” And then he leaned right through the window and kissed me! Just like at the dance. Not a little kiss. A deep, hard kiss. It left me shuddering afterward.
I put down the window and got back in bed and tried to pretend to myself that it hadn’t left me all shivery inside. But when I caught sight of J.T.’s flowers on my chest of drawers in the moonlight, I felt terrible. For talking to Ace at all. And for letting his kiss make me shiver.
I’m not sure what will happen, diary. What do you do about a boy who keeps turning up in your life without your permission? Yesterday Mother insisted we get egg cream sodas together and what could I say? And there he was, serving them up to us, giving me sneaky grins when she looked the other way. It made me feel his kiss all over again.
I love J.T. and I know he’s the boy I want to spend forever with and have a life with and a family with. But if that’s true, then why does my heart beat so fast and my hands get so sweaty when I’m around Ace? If love is grand, why am I so confused?
Yours, in utter romantic turmoil,
Peggy
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“YOU’RE MAD AT ME,” Seth said. He’d joined her on the patio a little while ago and tried to act normal, tried to flirt, tried to turn on the usual charm. But Meg was having none of it and it was making him feel shitty.
“Not mad,” she said quietly, sitting at the same café table where they’d shared meals before. He’d come back thinking they’d have dinner together, only to find that she’d eaten without him. Not that he necessarily deserved dinner with her—but he still wanted it. Not the dinner so much as the company—her. Her mood worried him, making him feel lost in the only place he’d ever really started feeling happy since he was ten years old.
“What then?” he asked.
“Just confused. About a lot of things.”
“Me, too, I guess,” he confessed. “What are your things?”
“The fact that I don’t know why you won’t tell your grandfather who you are, for one.”
Damn—she was going to press him on that? Why couldn’t she get the obvious? Did he have to keep saying it over and over? “I’m ashamed, Meg. Ashamed for him to know what I turned into. Maybe I don’t want to burden him with that. Or myself. I mean, I’m changing, but...maybe I’d rather let him think his grandson is out there doing better for himself than I am. Can you understand that?”
She stayed quiet for a mi
nute and he wondered if now he seemed like the angry one. And maybe he was. Not at her. At himself. At his dad. And yes, at his grandparents for not being in his life when he’d needed them.
“Yeah,” she finally said, softly. “Yeah, okay, I guess I can.”
“It’s probably hard for you to relate, darlin’—when you’ve never done anything to be ashamed of.”
She caught him off guard, however, by replying, “No, I relate because...maybe I’m ashamed of myself right now.”
He blinked back his surprise. “For what?” What on earth could someone as good and pure as Meg Sloan have to be ashamed of?
She swallowed visibly, lowered her eyes. “Sleeping with you.”
He didn’t get it. “Huh? I thought you and Zack were...”
“We are. Uncommitted. Free agents. But somehow it still feels like a secret I’m keeping from him, something I’m doing wrong.”
The words lowered an anchor onto his chest. “Don’t do that to yourself, darlin’. You’re not doing anything wrong, I promise.”
“Maybe. I’ve just never been a sleep-around kind of woman, and I guess I’m not sure how it looks on me.”
“It looks fine on you, darlin’. And if it’s any consolation, you don’t have to think of it as sleeping around, because...like I told you, I don’t have plans to go anywhere. And I know you have a history with Zack, but...what’s between me and you—it’s not nothing, Meg. It matters. To me anyway.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “To me, too.”
And damn, that was good to hear. It lifted that anchor right back up. The truth was, he’d spent the afternoon thinking about a lot of things, and one of them was Meg. And that there was something right here, between them—right enough that the risk of running into his grandfather hadn’t kept him away.
But she moved instantly on from that to, “There’s more I’m confused about, though.”