by Nancy Thayer
"Then will you marry me, Lily?"
She smiled, and she was crying now, too. "Of course I'll marry you, Jason."
"Then let's seal the deal." He slid the ring on her finger.
She held her hand up. If she wiggled her hand just right, the tiny diamond caught the light and sparkled.
45
Marina
Sunday evening, Marina took the pie from the oven, feeling quite pleased with the way the tips of the meringue were toasted to a caramel gloss, the crust a perfect golden brown. She was coming to cooking late in life, and she found it engaged many of the creative energies and attention she had once paid to her work. She was gaining weight, she noticed, but she didn't mind. Jim didn't, either.
She smiled, thinking of Jim. He had a talent for enjoying the day, and she was learning from him. And with each day she came to understand how right Jim had been when he talked with her about his daughters. It would be almost impossible, Marina thought, not to favor one woman more, and one woman less.
Earlier today, Marina had gone through the empty house, organizing it after the weekend. She carried glasses and plates back to the kitchen, newspapers out to the recycle bin, and swept and mopped the kitchen floor. She started a load of wash, emptied a load of laundry from the dryer and carried it up to Abbie's room. She took a couple of towels out of the hamper in the bathroom, wondered where the others were, and guessed where they were at once. She didn't want to intrude uninvited, but with one quick glance, she found most of the towels in Lily's room, some still damp, tossed on a chair or the end of her bed or on the floor, mixed in with the mounds of discarded clothing. She gathered them up, washed and dried two loads of towels, and folded and put them away. She liked thinking of what a luxury it was to come home from landscaping or taking care of a child on the beach, to have a shower and step out to find a fluffy clean towel waiting. She tried not to think judgmental thoughts about Lily, but it was hard.
It was almost six o'clock, so everyone would be arriving any moment. At least Jim would be. Marina sliced cucumbers, carrots, and zucchini and set them out with a light yogurt dip. She'd start the bluefish baking when they were here--this recipe would take exactly twenty minutes. She'd gotten pretty good at cooking fish.
She popped into the downstairs bathroom to check her reflection in the mirror. She looked great, tanned and relaxed and happy. If she could run a business, she could run a family!
The back screen door slammed, and Jim called hello. She went out to greet him with a kiss and a hug. He grabbed a beer and sat at the table, and then Abbie came in.
"Hi, Abbie. I'm about to open a bottle of wine. Want a glass?" Marina held up a bottle of chilled Vino Verde.
Abbie shrugged and collapsed in a chair. "That would be great. Thanks."
Marina had heard about the frightful fall the child Abbie was caring for had taken on the carousel, but Abbie had not asked her advice about it, and Marina was restraining herself from offering advice. After all, she'd never had a child. But it made her sad to see how the sparkle had gone out of Abbie.
Emma came in just then, and she seemed even sadder than Abbie.
"Do I have time for a quick shower before dinner?" Emma asked as she kicked off her gardening clogs. She'd spent the day working with Marcia on landscaping jobs and her skin was plastered with dirt. She even had leaves in her hair.
"Sure." Marina loved it, how Emma just assumed Marina was there. "Want to take a glass of wine up with you?"
"Thanks, Marina." Emma took the glass and padded barefoot out of the room.
Marina put the fish into the preheated oven and began to set the table. Jim sat relaxed in his chair, telling Abbie about a friend of theirs who'd gotten so thoroughly covered with poison ivy he'd had to be hospitalized. Marina checked the lobster pot--the water was simmering--so she sat down next to Abbie, handed her an ear of corn, and they stripped the husks off a dozen ears of sweet Nantucket corn as they talked.
"How was your day?" Marina asked Abbie.
Abbie shrugged. "I spent the day helping the Fitzhughs pack up and close up their house. What did you do?"
"I finished my lightship basket," Marina announced. "It's quite handsome, if I do say so myself."
"Did you enjoy making it?" Jim asked.
Marina considered. "It requires a lot of patience and repetition, you know. Let's just say I'm glad I made one but I don't think I want to make another one."
"Gee," Abbie said, "I was hoping you'd make one for me."
Marina was surprised at how pleased she felt to hear Abbie joke like that in spite of whatever crisis was going on with her. "Honey, if you want one, I'll make you one," she said.
Emma returned to the room, dressed in a clean tee shirt and shorts, her hair wet and curling.
"Perfect timing," Marina told her. She dropped the corn into the boiling water, took the fish out of the oven, and set it on a hot pad in the middle of the table. She tossed the salad with a vinegar and oil dressing she'd made herself, dumped the rice into a bowl, and set out butter dishes for the corn. By then the corn was ready. She'd organized it perfectly!
"Shall we wait for Lily?" Marina asked.
"Are you kidding?" Emma answered.
"We don't even know if she's coming to dinner," Abbie said, sensibly.
They sat around the table, eating the hot juicy corn and the flaky white fish, hardly talking except to murmur appreciatively. Marina felt as proud of herself as she had when she'd done a great ad campaign presentation for a client. She couldn't make life easier for the girls, but at least she could nourish them, and their pleasure nourished her.
"Hi, guys!" Lily exploded in the back door, so exuberant she seemed to throw off beams of light. Jason came in after her, grinning like a kid.
"Hi, Lily. Sorry we started without you," Marina began.
"Oh, never mind about that!" Lily waved her left hand at them. "Jason asked me to marry him! We're engaged!"
"Oh, Lily!" Abbie jumped up from the table and hugged her sister. "Hold still and let me see the ring! Oh, Lily, it's stunning."
While Abbie hugged Jason, Lily approached Emma. Only two days had passed since the disastrous night at the police station and Abbie had told Marina how angry Emma was at Lily. Marina glanced at Jim to see if he was concerned.
But Emma took Lily's hand and scrutinized the ring, turning Lily's hand this way and that. She stood up and hugged her sister tightly. "This is spectacular news, Lily. Congratulations." She turned to Jason and kissed his cheek. "Welcome to our crazy family!"
This sister thing, Marina thought, is as complicated and incomprehensible as particle physics.
"Thanks, Emma." Lily did a little jiggling dance of happiness. She turned to show her father the ring.
Jim stood up and hugged his daughter. "Congratulations, Lily." Reaching out, he shook Jason's hand. "Congratulations, Jason."
"Oh, Dad, I'm so happy!" She linked her arm through Jason's, smiling up at him. "We've got to go tell his parents! And Carrie. And--"
"Wait, Lily," Emma said. "When is the wedding?"
"Oh, I don't know, we just got engaged." Lily held out her hand and turned it, making the diamond flash.
"Oh my God!" Abbie said. "Do you realize this means Lily will be the first sister to get married?"
Lily laughed a theatrical, triumphant laugh. Everyone talked at once about which church they'd go to, would it be a beach wedding, who would officiate. Marina sat at the table, smiling and watching and thinking how odd it was that no one noticed that Lily had not deigned to show Marina her engagement ring.
46
Abbie
Monday afternoon, Abbie let herself into the Parker house, walked straight through into the kitchen, and found Harry and Howell there, finishing their lunch. They were dressed alike in white tee shirts and khaki shorts. When Howell saw her, the connection between them sparked like a Roman candle.
"Hi, Nanny Abbie!" Harry's piping high voice was full of excitement. "Daddy came home last
night and he brought me a giant octopus!"
Abbie pretended to shiver. "A live one?"
"No, silly Nanny Abbie!" Harry giggled. "A rubber one." He wriggled in his chair. "I'll show you--"
"Finish your lunch first, Harry." Howell tapped the side of his son's plate.
"How's the noggin, Harry?" Abbie slid into a chair next to the little boy's and checked out his head. The bump had disappeared. Only a bruise-colored mark remained.
"He's right as rain," Howell told her. He moved his leg under the table so that his bare foot touched her ankle.
The touch took her breath away.
"Mommy took me to Victoria's house!" Harry announced. "Victoria has a kitten! We might get a kitten."
"That would be terrific, Harry," Abbie told him. She smiled a friendly kind of smile at Howell and moved her leg away. She was determined to carry through with her decision, her logical, responsible decision, even though her heart and her soul and her senses all flowed toward Howell, craving his touch, the sound of his voice, the flesh of his body. She clenched her fists beneath the table, digging her nails into her palms. "How did your conference go?"
"Very well. I didn't trip over my own feet to or from the podium, a respectably large audience attended my talk, and no one fell asleep or stormed out of the auditorium while I was reading my paper."
Abbie forced a laugh and winked at Harry, who was watching her face. "As if you were really worried."
"Hey," Howell retorted playfully, "have you ever spoken before three hundred of your peers, most of whom are praying for the opportunity to discredit you?"
Harry slid halfway out of his chair. "Daddy, Nanny Abbie, I'm through with lunch!"
"You can get down," Abbie told him. She stood. "Let's get you ready for the beach, kiddo."
Howell rose, too. "I'd love to go with you, but I've got piles of email to deal with."
Abbie flashed him another fake smile. "We'll be fine."
Because the wind was whipping in from the northeast, Abbie tucked Harry into the SUV and drove to Miacomet Pond. The pond side was sheltered, and most people went up over the dune to the ocean side, so Harry had a large plot of sand to himself. He brought his rubber octopus and Abbie stationed it in the shallow water, weighting its middle down with sand, its eight legs floating free.
At three she called him up to their little nest beneath the beach umbrella. He had his snack of fruit juice and crackers, then curled up for a nap with a beach towel over him. Abbie lay next to him, on her side, just looking at him. He was the most captivating child she'd ever seen and she loved him with a love she couldn't comprehend, but after his fall from the carousel horse, she knew she'd been absolutely wrong to think she could ever be more to him than a nanny. He already had a mother. And he was a child who needed his family intact. What child didn't?
Then it was time to gather up all the beach things and head back home. At the Parkers' house, Abbie gave Harry a quick rinse in the outside shower, then brought him inside.
Howell came into the hall and squatted down to hug his son. "Hi, guys, how was the beach?"
"Nanny Abbie made the octopus swim!" Harry told his father.
"Nanny Abbie is very clever." Howell looked up at Abbie. "Can you stay for dinner?"
She shook her head. "Not tonight."
Startled, Howell stood up. "Really? Are you sure?"
She took a step back. "I've got another babysitting job this week. Every night. So ... I'd better be going." She kissed the top of Harry's head. "See you tomorrow, buddy."
"Abbie, wait." Howell put his hand on her shoulder. "Abbie ..." Suddenly aware that his son was watching him, he dropped his hand. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine!" she responded brightly. "Bye, Harry." She hurried out the door.
In fact, she actually had a job lined up every night this week. The children she babysat were older than Harry, and less enchanting. The job was easy enough, though. All she had to do was make popcorn and watch DVDs with them until their parents came home at eleven.
At home, she found Emma standing at the kitchen sink spreading peanut butter on crackers.
"Hey," she said to Emma.
"Hey," Emma said back.
Abbie collapsed in a chair. "You look awful."
"I am awful," Emma mumbled with her mouth full. "Sandra Bracebridge fired me."
"Oh, Emma. That's too bad. Is that why you seemed so wretched last night?"
"Yeah. I was going to tell you, but I didn't want to rain on Lily's parade."
"Because of the lightship baskets?" Abbie asked.
"She didn't explain, but I'm sure that's the reason. She fired me by phone. I can't even go say good-bye to Millicent. That makes me feel really terrible. God, why can't anything go right?"
"Oh, Em. You'll find lots of other jobs."
"Actually, I'm already working for Marcia, landscaping. She pays well, and it's nice to be outside."
"Well, that's good then, right?"
Emma shrugged. She screwed the lid back on the peanut butter jar, rinsed her hands, and settled into a chair across from Abbie. "You look pretty terrible yourself."
Abbie said, "I'll be okay." But she began to cry. "Oh, Emma, I'm such a fuckup."
Emma laughed. "You? Please."
"What happened to us?" Abbie asked. "Did we all just go mad this summer? I mean, I've worked with lots of children before, and I never felt as charmed by them as I did by Harry. And I certainly never fell in love with any of the daddies before."
"Hang on, Abbie, you're getting things all out of proportion. Harry fell off his horse and hurt himself and wanted his mommy. That is just not tragic. It's normal."
"If you could see her, Emma. Sydney is such a coldhearted bitch. But she is Harry's mommy." She shook her head savagely. "What was I even thinking?"
"What are you even thinking now?" Emma countered.
"That I was a fool ever to dream I could be with Howell and Harry. I'm stepping back, way back. I'm stepping away."
"Have you told Howell this?"
"No. No, I haven't had the opportunity."
"But Abbie, if he loves you, if you love him--"
"I think he does love me. I know I love him. But honestly, Emma, I love Harry more. And Harry's innocent. He's vulnerable. He's helpless. And he's fragile. When he fell, I realized how frightening it would be for him if his parents divorced."
Emma drummed her fingers on the table. After a moment, she said, "I'm not a big fan of divorce, you know that. But as your sister, Abbie, I've got to say I've never seen you in love the way you were this summer with Howell. I hate to see you throw that away. And you told me that Howell doesn't love his wife. Should Harry live with parents who don't love each other? What does that teach him about families, about life? Don't make this decision so hastily. Lots of kids have divorced parents. It might be great for Harry to have his mother and father and you, as well, to love him."
"I don't want to be a home wrecker," Abbie said.
"But Abbie, you matter, too. Your happiness matters, too."
Abbie rubbed her eyes. "I think I really need to get some sleep." She stood up, then impulsively leaned over and hugged her sister. "But thanks. Thanks for being here."
47
Emma
Now at the end of August there was not as much work to be done in the formal gardens of Nantucket. Most required only simple maintenance--watering, mowing, deadheading. Many of the home owners had already left the island for the city, or were busy packing up. Emma wondered if Marcia had hired her out of sympathy, but when she asked Marcia about that, her friend had snorted.
"Are you nuts? You think I could do this all alone? Oh, please get over yourself."
Being around Marcia was good for Emma. Her friend was honest, no-nonsense, blunt, and cheerful. Marcia was engaged to an island man. They were saving toward building a house, and it would be a long frugal time before they could afford that. But Marcia didn't complain about money, or much of anything, really. She
and her brother seemed content with their lives. Emma envied them for that.
Now Marcia removed her gardening gloves and stretched to release her back muscles. "Okay. We're done here. Emma, I'm meeting Brian and some friends at Miacomet. Want to come along?"
With the summer rush over, their work hours were shortened. It was only a little after four, but Emma was hot, sweaty, tired, and sad. "I wouldn't be very good company."
"Hey," Marcia said, "all you have to do is sit back and drink a cold beer."
Emma considered this as they carried the tools to the truck. She suspected that Marcia was trying to get a romance going between her brother and Emma, and perhaps at some other time in her life she'd be interested. He was a hunk and a really good guy, but Emma's heart was somewhere else--foolish heart. Still, she didn't want a lopsided attraction to cause misunderstandings between herself and her friend.
"I'm really beat," she told Marcia. "Another time, maybe."
Marcia dropped her off at her father's house, but instead of going inside, Emma left her backpack on the porch and grabbed her bike. She pedaled away from her house, through narrow lanes and along tree-lined streets until she came to Surfside Road. The bike path was good, and it was easy sailing past the high school, the elementary school, and the outlying wooded neighborhoods.
She was going against the tide of traffic. Everyone else was headed back into town after a day at the beach, and when she arrived at the southern shore, she was surprised at how empty it was. A few people sprawled on beach towels, and in the distance a group of four-wheel drive vehicles clustered together, but it was the end of summer and the end of the day. She was glad. She wanted to be alone.
She locked her bike to the bike rack, kicked off her sandals, and padded barefoot down the dune toward the shore. She ambled along at the edge of the water, letting the cool waves break over her feet, and it felt so good that she surrendered to temptation and walked right out into the ocean, gasping as the water slapped her thighs, stomach, chest. She dove under a wave and swam for a while. The waves were rough and churning from a recent storm. The struggle was engrossing, but she knew how wicked the undertow could be here, so she bodysurfed up to the beach and thrashed her way free of the water and back onto the safety of the sand.