Summer on Main Street

by Crista McHugh

  But her voicemail picked up before she could answer, and as soon as hope had lifted inside her heart, it was gone again. She pressed the button to listen to the message, but one look at the screen told her who had called.

  “Ash? Marty here.”

  She sank onto the loveseat and rested her head on one palm. Of course it wasn’t Eddie. Look what she’d done by lying to him. Look at everything she’d ruined.

  “Got something to ask you.” Marty hacked up phlegm for a few seconds before continuing. “And, ah, I know you’re coming in to work lunch today, but I’ve got a meeting down in the city.”

  The city? As in Boston? Marty rarely left Paradise, as far as Ash knew, though he’d been gone a lot of nights this summer. What was the guy up to? Got a woman? She couldn’t imagine it. Gambling addiction?

  “…so could you give me a call when you can?”

  Ash erased the message. She might as well get it over with. He probably wanted her to cover as manager tonight, or maybe pull a double tomorrow. She'd call and find out for sure and tell him about her leaving at the same time. He wouldn’t like it, but—

  Marty picked up on the first ring. “Ash?”

  “Hi. Got your message.”

  “Ah, hey there.” He coughed.

  “Oughta get those lungs looked at,” she said almost without thinking. She knew he wouldn’t listen; she told him the same thing two or three times a week. It wasn’t like you could change the habits of a chronic smoker. The things people carried around for a lifetime worked their claws inside the skin and stayed there.

  “So what's up?”

  “Ash, listen. I’m gonna need someone up here full-time to run the restaurant. I'm thinking about opening another place down near Salem. Cater to the college crowd.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I've been talking to a buddy of mine these last few weeks. He’s got the dough, likes my ideas. Wants to go in partners with me.”

  “Really?” Ash’s brows rose. She couldn’t picture Marty leaving Paradise, let alone opening another version of Blues and Booze. But then again, she’d never really looked past his yellow teeth and bloodshot eyes. Maybe the restaurant business had grown on him. Maybe, after all this time, he did want more. Maybe he wanted expansion, a place that drew a younger, bigger crowd. More money. More possibilities. “So wait, you’re leaving town?”

  “For a while, if I can find someone to take care of the place here. I'll be spending most of my time down there, next few months, anyway. So, ah, if you’re interested, like to offer you the manager job. Full-time.” He chuckled, wheezing only a little. “Well, probably be more than full-time, ‘cause you know what the hours are like. You can hire someone to work under you, if you want. Part-time, cover the nights.”

  “Marty, I can’t—”

  “Don’t say no right away,” he interrupted. “I know it probably ain’t the dream job you got lined up inside your head. But you’re damn good at it. The customers like you. Lot of ‘em come in to see you. But you don’t take any crap from anyone either, and that’s good.” He paused to draw a rattly breath. “I ain’t never considered opening another place ‘til this opportunity came along. And you…you’re okay. You got the hang of it. And you’re about the only person with enough brains to keep it going. So if you want to stay in town for a while, give it a shot, I’d appreciate it. Really.”

  Ash didn’t say anything. Stay in Paradise? Run Blues and Booze? It was ridiculous. She couldn’t. She’d do a terrible job. Besides, she’d make what? A few thousand dollars? Barely enough to cover the rent in this second-floor apartment. No way. It made no sense.

  Then why didn’t she just tell Marty thanks, but no thanks? Why didn’t she tell him she’d be gone in two weeks, back in Boston where she belonged? Why, instead, did she tell him she’d think about it?

  Because, she decided as she threw on an old pair of shorts and a halter top and stepped into the rain, she had finally, and completely, lost her mind.

  ***

  The rain let up shortly after Ash rounded the corner of Lycian Street, and by the time she headed downtown, past the church green, all that remained was a fuzzy sky with some sun poking through. She bent her head against the wind, shoulders hunched, and walked past the restaurant. Past the tiny yellow-sided library, where Celia Darling waved a hand as she gathered books from the return bin. Past Annie’s Fabrics and the Used Book Depot, sharing space in a corner building. At the convenience store she turned, giving a nod to the guy who stood in the doorway. Harry Broker. Came in sometimes with his teenage daughter, weekends when she visited from her mom’s.

  Ash shook her head. She couldn’t keep thinking about the people she knew, the connections she’d made here in Paradise. It had been just a summer detour, a distraction, as her father had put it. A few weeks of getting to know the locals didn’t mean she belonged here, even if Marty had just offered her the perfect opportunity for staying. She dodged a baseball that rolled into the street and kept her eyes down. She didn’t want to see who it belonged to or play the matching game with another local face.

  Another turn, this time onto a quiet street, thick with oak trees. St. James Avenue curved up toward the community college, and she followed it, slowing as the hill grew steeper. Here the houses pushed together, one atop the next like postage stamps in a line. All one-level, all neatly tended, almost all brick with white or black trim and flowers on the stoop. Here and there, a flag in the window or a bronze nameplate broke the pattern. Don’t they mind? Don’t they want to look distinct? Or is there comfort in fitting in?

  Ahead of her, a wrought iron gate stood open beside a sign welcoming her to New Hampshire Central Junior College. Ash wrapped her fingers around the bars and stared at the squat buildings, made of the same red brick as the houses behind her. Near the entrance stood a white building with cupolas on top and a sign that read “Admissions” in front. In the background she could see the three story library accented with flowerbeds and a stone lion statue sitting regally in front. It looked like every other local school, plopped in a tiny town, anywhere in the country.

  Except it wasn’t. This one belonged to Paradise, New Hampshire. And suddenly, she heard Eddie’s voice again inside her head.

  “… people have the same problems no matter where you go. Big city or small town, people get hurt. Friends steal from each other. Men cheat on their wives. Kids sneak out at night and get drunk while their parents think they’re sleeping. People get divorced, same as every other place…At least here, in Paradise, you know someone’s got your back. You know there’s always someone you can count on, someone you grew up with who’s gonna forgive you no matter how bad you screw things up…”

  She turned away from the college. Two benches flanked the fence, and she dropped onto one, not caring that rainwater had puddled inside it.

  Is that why she liked it? Because there was something here that made her feel like she belonged? Something that told her people would look out for her? Stand up for her? Forgive her when she screwed things up?

  She ran one finger along the bench’s scrollwork.

  “…I know it probably ain’t the dream job you got lined up inside your head. But you’re damn good at it. The customers like you. Lot of ‘em come in to see you…”

  True, the town didn’t seem to care who she was. The people living here hadn’t asked questions when she’d moved in. They’d taken her word and welcomed her just the same. And she liked that she hadn’t relied on her last name to find a job. To make connections. To make love.

  Eddie chose me. Not my pedigree. Not my degree. He chose his screwed-up, neurotic, upstairs neighbor who slept late and occasionally spilled coffee on people and chewed her thumbnail when she got nervous. He chose me. The realization washed over her in hot waves.

  She had to tell him how he'd changed her, how this place had changed her. If Marty was offering her a chance to stay, to explore the possibilities that Paradise held for her, then Ash wasn’t a
bout to say no. Not just yet. Not when everything between her and Eddie felt so unfinished.

  She stood and made her way back down St. James. At the bottom, she broke into a jog. The church clock boomed out eleven o’clock, and she hurried on. Why was it that time only dragged when you wanted to rush it along, and when you really wanted to slow it, it insisted on running away from you?

  She headed back to Lycian Street. If Eddie wasn’t home yet, she’d leave him a note. She'd wedge it inside his door and ask him to come to Blues and Booze later on. She didn’t care that maybe he’d spent the night with Cass. She had explaining to do. And apologies to make.

  “Hi, Ash!” Toby Darling, Celia’s son, sat on the front step of the library, tossing a baseball from one hand to the other.

  A few weeks back, she’d given the ten-year-old a dish of leftover ice cream, the night the power went out and every restaurant on Main Street had to empty their freezers. He’d adored her ever since.

  “Hi yourself,” she answered, waving back. The sun winked in and out of clouds, and she felt it press down on the back of her neck. Warm. Comforting. Like a hand urging her home.

  She practically skipped the last block, rehearsing her speech to Marty in between thinking of the first thing she wanted to tell Eddie. Not to mention the first thing she wanted to do to him. With him. Her face burned a little, but she didn’t care. When you figured out what it was you wanted, you’d do whatever it took to get it back. Even if that meant staring down the vixen from your lover’s past.

  Ash cracked her knuckles as anxiety welled up inside her. Due at work in less than an hour, she didn’t have a lot of time. Her fingers dug inside her pocket as she rounded the corner, and because her house keys got stuck in a loose thread, she was looking down as she made her way to the porch steps.

  So he saw her first. He spoke first. And when she raised her head to see who waited for her with a smile in his voice, all breath left her body. Tall and impossibly good-looking, the kind of good-looking that belonged on a magazine cover, Colin Parker stood on the porch of number two Lycian Street. He winked. Cocked his head to one side, the way she remembered too well. Grinned that camera-ready smile that flipped her stomach over and loped down the steps to meet her. All Ash could do was stand there and stare as his rolling bass voice carried her back through time.

  “Hi, babe. God, it’s good to see you again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Garbled country music jarred Eddie awake. “Shit.” He reached a hand in the direction of the motel nightstand and jabbed his thumb at the alarm clock. There. Silence. Falling back against the flat pillow, he flung an arm over his face. Jesus, but he had a headache to beat all headaches. And he guessed he’d forgotten to close the curtains last night, because now a strip of sunlight streamed across the bed, eye-level.

  “Eddie?”

  He squirmed. For a few minutes, he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone in the bed.

  Cass poked a finger at his bare shoulder. “You feeling okay?”

  He didn’t answer. What the hell did she think? The last twenty-four hours had tossed him into the center of a tornado. If he looked in the mirror, he wasn’t even sure whose face he’d see, or if he’d recognize it. Couple that with the fact that last night’s binge had left him with someone playing drums inside his skull and someone else painting the roof of his mouth with acid, and no, he wasn’t feeling okay. Or anything close to it.

  She trailed her fingertips along his spine. “Want some water?”

  He shook his head, still staring at the backs of his eyelids.

  Did I sleep with her? He didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to know. The bed dipped, squeaking a little as she got up.

  “I’m going for some coffee,” she said. “I’ll bring you back some.”

  Eddie heard the soft slipping of fabric over skin as she dressed. Grunting, he waited until the door closed before he turned over and opened his eyes. He took his time surveying the room, looking for signs of a knockdown, drag-out, all-clothes-off-in-sixty-seconds adventure the minute they’d stepped inside the room last night.

  It’s happened before. I’d be a fool to think it couldn’t have happened again.

  But he didn’t see much out of place. No chairs tipped onto the carpet. No ice spilled the length of the dresser. Even the bedspread covering his lower half, in some God-awful plum pattern, appeared smooth and tucked in. Only his shorts and shirt lay tossed on the floor, alongside the two motorcycle helmets.

  Eddie slid from the bed and lurched into the bathroom. He dropped the toilet lid and slipped to an awkward seat. Leaning forward, he rested his head in both hands and stared at his lap. At least he still wore his boxers. That was a good sign. He couldn’t remember actually doing anything with Cass by the time they’d collapsed inside this wreck of a room, but then again, he couldn’t remember walking the two blocks from the bar to the motel, either, or checking in at the front desk.

  “Idiot,” he said to his feet. He turned on the cold water. The fact that Ashton Kirk had just twisted him inside out didn’t give him any excuse to ride around New Hampshire, screwing the first willing woman who came along. Pull yourself together, West. Other women have treated you worse than Ash did. Didn’t mean he had to crawl into a hole and wait for next year. Jesus, she’s just a woman. Thousands more in the damn sea, remember?

  He stood, grabbed a towel, and wet it until it dripped. Then he slapped it across his cheeks and draped it around the back of his neck. He spat into the toilet and flushed. The way he figured it, he had two choices. One, he could head back to Paradise, ignore her for the rest of the summer, and by the time autumn rolled around, be back to his usual self. Or two, he could go back to Lycian Street, march upstairs, and tell her exactly what he thought of the lies she’d told.

  Eddie ground his teeth together. He didn’t really like either option, because both required him to turn his back on the first woman who’d made him feel alive in years. Still, what choice did he have? He jammed the heel of one hand against his forehead and tried to ignore the heave working its way up his throat. Gonna be sick, he thought, a second before last night’s burgers and tequila caught up with him. Bending over the toilet just in time, he hugged the cold porcelain with both arms as he sank to his knees and lost everything inside him.

  ***

  “Eddie?” It was Cass’s voice. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. Only a few minutes, probably. Struggling to a stand, he flushed the toilet and rubbed a hand over his face.

  “Yeah.” He pushed his way back into the dingy bedroom. Cass waited by the bed, sipping a steaming cup of coffee. Another sat on the dresser.

  She cocked her head, hair streaming over one shoulder. “Gonna be all right?”

  He shrugged, reached for his clothes and pulled them on. “Thanks for the joe.” He took a long gulp, letting it burn his lips. Black. Good.

  “You're welcome.” She ran a finger down the side of his face. “You look like hell.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  She smiled and sank to a seat in one of the chairs near the window. “Okay.” She paused. “We didn’t sleep together last night.”

  Eddie jerked a little at her words. “You’re…well, I…”

  She laughed outright then. “Oh, please. I know you’ve been wondering since the minute you woke up. I know you, Eddie. I know that guilty look that makes your eyes all squinty.”

  He felt himself redden and stared down at the coffee, as if it might hold the answers within its darkness. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he said after a minute. “I didn’t mean to drag you all the way over here just to listen to my problems.”

  She flipped a hand into the air. “I didn’t do much listening. After you fell asleep halfway in the door, it was all I could do to get you undressed…” Her eyelashes fluttered toward her lap, coquettish. “Thought I might get a little action after all.”

  A smile tugged at his face.

  Cass shrugged. “But you kept talkin
g about Ashton this, and Ashton that.” She looked back up at him. “I thought her name was Ashley.”

  So did I.

  Eddie found his wallet, tossed in the open drawer of the nightstand, and stuffed it into his back pocket. “I gotta get back home. Things to take care of. You ready?”

  She shook her head. “I have a couple friends in town. Called ‘em this morning.” She spun the watch on her thin wrist. “We’re meeting over at the diner in twenty minutes. I figured you could use some time to yourself.”

  He nodded, relieved. The ride back to Paradise, the sorting out he needed to do, was better suited for solitude. He bent down and planted a kiss on his ex-girlfriend’s cheek. “You’re okay,” he mumbled. “Thanks.”

  Cass leaned back in the chair, letting her glance slide down his torso. “No problem. Make sure she knows what she’s missing.”

  Eddie smiled for real this time and dropped a hand onto her shoulder. Then he picked up the motorcycle helmets and headed out into the sun.

  ***

  He took the long way back to Paradise. Avoiding the main road, he chose the back ones instead, the narrow ones that wound their way through woods and past lakes and by the occasional house or gas station. He drove slowly at first, savoring the feel of the handlebars and the hum of the engine beneath him. He waved to a little girl playing in her front yard and a pair of joggers. He watched fields and trees change places every mile or so.

  But try as he might, Eddie couldn’t get her out of his head. Ash. Ashton Kirk. Okay, the damn senator’s daughter. That’s who she was, then. His grip tightened. And wrong or right, somewhere in between all the stories they’d told each other that summer, he’d fallen in love with her. He ground to a halt as a stop sign caught him by surprise.