Considering Us

9

I felt good about things. Kyle and I were settling into a nice friendship. I had finally met Annie, and although I still felt pangs of attraction to him, for the moment, it seemed like we were doing all the right things. It was tough to tell what the future held, but considering everything that had happened to both of us over the past fifteen years, getting to know and trust each other slowly was the mature thing to do, at least as far as I could tell. I was glad I had steered us toward this course. At least, I thought so. Given my track record with men, I never really knew if I was doing the right thing.

On the night that I was supposed to meet up with Ward Connelly at The Barnacle, we were serving the students dinner on what had been an unseasonably hot October day for northern New England. The leaves were bold and bright, crunching under our every step on the quad, but instead of flannels and jeans, students were in tank tops and some of the shortest shorts I had ever seen. Andrea had sent out an all-campus message that the dress code of khakis and collared shirts was waived for the day, given the extreme heat, and some students took full advantage of the latitude. When a girl came through the line in a string bikini top, I turned to Marnie and said, “I am without words.”

She shrugged and said, “I’d wear one if I still could get away with it.” That was the most she had said to me in a week, which seemed to be how she approached everyone. I tried not to take it personally.

The boys’ soccer team came in from practice, their faces so hot and sweaty they were almost purple. “We should get them some Gatorade,” I said to Marnie, who shuffled off to fetch the sports drinks. I got ready to help serve them dinner when I heard a thud, followed by yelling and gasping students. One of the players was lying on the floor, with his teammates surrounding him. I looked around for Kyle but didn’t see him anywhere, so I ran over to where everyone was gathered. “Is your coach here?” I asked no one in particular. The boys looked around and shrugged and muttered no , so I yelled out to Marnie, “Call 11. He’s passed out, but I don’t know why.” I knelt next to him.

Within seconds, the boy opened his eyes and stared up at me. “You’re the one who makes me cookies,” he said slowly. His hair was soaking wet, and his uniform was stuck to him. I looked at the other players standing around us, who appeared the same. I guessed that dehydration had been an issue, but the paramedics would have to make that determination.

“Yes, I do make cookies,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Jamie. Like the soccer player on Ted Lasso .”

“Funny,” I said. This kid made me smile. “How are you feeling now?”

“I’m okay, I think,” he said. “I don’t know what happened.”

“How we doing over here?” I looked up and saw a tall paramedic standing over us. He had a booming voice and muscles bulging out of his short sleeves. “I’m Heath, with the Portsmouth Fire Department. I’m here with Bill, who’s an EMT, and Matt, who drove us. Who’s this here?” he asked, crouching down next to me.

I backed up and let Heath and his associates check out Jamie. Finally, I realized I needed to get the students away from the situation and told them to move to the tables or outside. Given how good Heath looked, several of the girls hung back, giggling and whispering. “Seriously,” I said to them. “You can sit over there and still look at him.” They rolled their eyes at me and plunked down in nearby chairs.

“Okay,” Heath said to me, and I felt my heart flutter. He had wavy brown hair and huge ice-blue eyes. He was tan and had a big smile, which I could feel shooting right through me. This was something I hadn’t felt in a while. Pure magnetic physical attraction. I hadn’t even exchanged any real words with him, so it could be based on nothing else. “Jamie’s going to be fine, but we’re going to bring him to the hospital because he hit his head when he fell. They’re going to want to evaluate him in the ER—maybe run a CT. We’re going to start an IV of some fluids in the ambulance since, I think more than anything else, this kid’s super dehydrated.”

“I thought so,” I said, really having nothing else to contribute to the conversation.

“Tell that coach of his that they need to remind these guys to drink more electrolytes,” he said, winking at me. I wanted to collapse like Jamie had, but hopefully into the strong arms of Heath, the Hot Paramedic. “They’re teenagers. They don’t even remember their middle names half the time,” he said, smiling. I looked down at his hands for a second. They were huge. “You want to come ride in the ambulance with us? Usually, I’d bring the coach, but he doesn’t seem to be around, right?”

I hadn’t even thought to call Kyle; I just noticed he wasn’t there. There wasn’t time to do that now, and besides, I had the opportunity to ride in an ambulance with Heath. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll be right there.”

“We’ll be a few minutes getting him set up. See you outside,” he said, lightly touching my elbow before he went back to Jamie. Oh my God.

I yelled at Marnie that I was leaving and raced out the door. Ashlyn Lark was hanging around outside the ambulance, wearing a crop top and jean cutoffs, talking to Matt, the driver, as Heath and Bill got Jamie into the back of the vehicle. She raised her eyebrows when she saw me. “What are you doing here, Chef?” she asked.

“I could ask the same of you,” I said, climbing into the ambulance for the short ride to Portsmouth Regional Hospital.

I helped get Jamie checked in the best I could, but I realized I knew almost nothing about him and had no idea what the protocol was for these situations. I had simply wanted to sit next to Heath in the ambulance, but Matt told me I needed to sit next to him in the passenger seat because it had a seatbelt. The ride had been quick and uneventful, and Heath was, of course, focused on Jamie’s care. Now that I was sitting on a plastic chair in a corridor of the ER, trying to fill out a form with very little information, I realized I needed help.

“Hey! Is he okay?” Kyle came running in, disheveled and clearly stressed.

“I was going to call you next,” I said. “I don’t know how to fill out this form.”

“I got it,” he said, grabbing the clipboard. “I have access to all the information. I can get it on my phone through the coaches’ portal.”

“Great. Let me tell the nurse at the desk that you’re taking over for me,” I said, walking over to the reception area.

When I was done talking to her, Heath was standing next to me. “They’re checking him out now,” he said. “Kid’s going to be fine. Was that the coach who just showed up?”

“Yeah, that’s Kyle Holling. He’ll take things from here. I guess I’ll, um, call an Uber to get back to campus.”

“We can give you a ride,” he said, flashing that big white smile.

“Just one second,” I said, practically running over to Kyle.

“I’m going to go back to school,” I told him. “The ambulance guys are giving me a ride. Let me know how Jamie is, okay?”

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” he asked. “You can ride back with me later.” Kyle eyed Heath, who was clearly waiting for me. Could he tell that I was so excited to just spend a few more minutes in the Hot Paramedic’s presence?

“I need to, you know, get ready for that silly meeting at The Barnacle tonight. Of course, I’d rather stay with you. But Andrea would not be pleased if I skipped out on this. This is a really big deal, from what she’s told me so far. You know how it goes.” It was all true, but I felt like I wasn’t being honest with Kyle. Why am I feeling guilty about any of this? We were just friends. Still, I felt like a twinge of something, and it didn’t feel good.

“Good luck with Connelly,” he said. “I need to check on Jamie,” he conceded, standing up. “I think about us all the time, just so you know. I know I’m not supposed to, but I do.” He walked into the hospital room, leaving me standing there, not sure what to think or feel. I took a breath and turned back toward Heath, who was waiting for me. He bit his bottom lip in the cutest way possible, and I followed him out the door.

...

I tore my closet apart trying to find something acceptable for a meeting with Ward Connelly at The Barnacle. I had dressed much like the students during my time at Rockwood, mostly because it was easy. Khakis and polos required little thought and, with some wrinkle-release spray, were very little maintenance. I had also eaten an aggressive amount of ice cream since arriving on St George’s Island—a lot, even by my standards—so the nicer clothes in my wardrobe were a bit snug. The freshman fifteen were creeping up on me, but I didn’t have time to give it much thought. I pulled on a black knee-length dress with no waistband, straightened my hair with my flatiron, and put on more makeup than usual. After the night I had already had, this was the last thing I wanted to do. I’d rather stay in my apartment and watch something cute involving emergency responders. Maybe Roxanne .

Walking to the chapel, I replayed the conversation with Heath in my head. When Matt pulled up to Wentworth House, Heath hopped out and walked me to the front door. I was buzzing with all kinds of nervous energy, sensing that he was as interested in me as I was in him, and it was very exciting. I thanked him for the ride and for taking such good care of Jamie. He asked if I was free anytime over the next week or so, and we determined that we were both available the following Saturday. It was the day after the Connelly event, and I deserved a break. Something to look forward to.

“Okay, I’ll plan an afternoon of fun for us. We’ll have a good time,” he had said, smiling big at me again. I couldn’t help but stare at his muscular shoulders, arms, and chest and wonder what it all felt like. He was a piece of fine art.

The back door of the chapel was open, just like Kyle said it would be. I listened for any student activity, but it was silent. Too hot out , I thought, given that most of the campus didn’t have air conditioning. Maintenance staff had been placing fans all over the place, but it hadn’t helped much. I hoped for cooler conditions in the subterranean level of the dining hall.

I followed all my instructions, ultimately walking down a long passage that must have been the tunnel from one building to another. Opening the final door led me into The Barnacle. It was dark, with tiny white twinkle lights framing, as I had predicted, portholes, except that these only had fake glowing fish behind them since we were in a basement. There were, indeed, life preservers, mermaids, a big ship’s wheel, and, yes, a large whale hanging from the walls. Jimmy Buffett’s “Boat Drinks” played softly in the background, presumably so conversations were possible. Not that there were many people there, to begin with.

I noticed Ryland Dennis sitting with a man of about sixty years in large leather armchairs. He waved me over, and I begrudgingly went. Of course, he’s here . “Hi, Ryland,” I said in a flat tone.

“Don’t sound so thrilled, Devon,” he said with a snark. “Ward, this is Devon Paige, who you are meeting with tonight about the event. Devon, I am the faculty member assigned to Ward for the unveiling reception. Something we do around here at Rockwood.”

I thought back to Kyle’s story about Al Horton. “Sounds good,” I said. “Nice to meet you, Ward,” I said, reaching out my hand to shake. He was thin and pale, with gray hair that appeared slicked back but not heavy with gel or another product. He wore glasses with clunky black frames, tight jeans, a thick hunter-green corduroy shirt, and a purple paisley scarf. In this heat. Ugh. Luckily for him, The Barnacle did seem to be air-conditioned. If only they had brought the same cooling system to my kitchen above us—another reason to be annoyed by this whole situation.

Ryland snickered; at what, I wasn’t sure. “Why don’t you go get a drink, Devon, and then I’ll leave so you two can talk?”

It always felt like he was telling me what to do or directing me in some way. I didn’t like it, but this was not the time to tell him off. I felt like it might be soon. “Sure,” I said evenly and walked over to the mahogany bar, where Marnie was drying a wine glass with a towel. “Marnie? You work at The Barnacle?!” I was incredulous. What else didn’t I know about Rockwood?

“A few nights here and there,” she said. “What can I get you?”

“A whiskey sour, if you don’t mind.” It all felt strange and like I was somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. “How much do I owe you?”

“There’s a tab,” she said. “So, nothing. You’re on the special events account.”

“There’s a bar account?” I asked, dumbfounded, while I watched her ream a lemon and add the juice to the shaker.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said, shrugging, never one to engage in small talk. She shook up my cocktail, strained it into a glass filled with a large ice cube, and added a cherry. “Here you go.”

I dug a ten-dollar bill out of my wallet. “Take this,” I said. “Thank you,” I whispered, not knowing why I was being quiet. I was so confused about everything that was happening.

Ryland had already moved out of his seat and was talking across the room to some elderly men in sports jackets with canes leaning against the sides of their chairs. I sat down across from Ward Connelly. “So,” I began. “We need to plan a reception.”

“We do,” he said, blinking a few times. “I look forward to my creation being unveiled to the Rockwood community. Rockwood means so much to me. This is my gift to a place that continues to nurture my soul and the Connelly legacy.”

A little presumptuous to see yourself as having a legacy , I thought, but I had a job to do and needed to humor him the best I could. “Are you the only alum in your family, or are there others?” I posed.

He chuckled softly. “Many Connellys have graced these floors, these lawns, these halls,” he said, taking a significant sip of dark liquor. “This year, especially as my daughter has joined the ranks of the Stallions. That’s what my piece is called, by the way. The Stallion . Don’t tell anyone. I’m letting the scotch speak right now. You’re the only one who knows.” He put his finger to his lips and gave a smug smile.

“I won’t tell,” I said. “So, your, um, daughter. Should I include her in the VIP seating area invitation? We’ll have an area roped off.” Why hadn’t Andrea included information about a child who was a current student? So much was left for me to piece together on my own.

“Probably best not to draw attention to that situation,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “Like I said, it’s the scotch talking. Let’s talk food. I like meat.”

We spent the next forty-five minutes coming up with some fall appetizers that could easily be enjoyed while standing up and socializing. As we conversed more, there was something familiar I kept noticing about him, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. Finally, I asked, “You do look awfully familiar to me, Ward. Did you ever have an event at a restaurant I worked at in Boston? I was at Minx for five years, and before that, Bee’s Knees and Cardamom.”

“I don’t believe I have, but I frequent the gardens and galleries of our city to the south quite often. Perhaps we passed by each other once or twice. You never know. Such is life with its fleeting moments.” He spoke in such an interesting manner I wondered if it was authentic or a huge heap of bullshit. Regardless, we had a plan for a reception.

When I got back to the fourth floor of Wentworth, I went straight to my laptop, logged into the employee portal, and searched “Connelly.” Surely, Ward’s daughter would have his last name? Perhaps not. But I was curious.

The only name that emerged was Adrienne’s. Adrienne Connelly Preston. No. There’s no way.

It probably wasn’t her. But I needed to find out.