Summer Light on Nantucket

Time to See the Roses

time to see the roses

Blythe woke in the morning and allowed herself to lie there, snug beneath her blue duvet, relaxed and dreamy and in a rare poetic state of mind.

It was early, and the rising sun felt like hope. She lay idly, allowing herself to gaze lazily at the wide sweep of sky. A few clouds floated past, diaphanous, like wedding veils.

She thought that summer light on Nantucket was different from any other light in the world, because the island lay between the vast Atlantic Ocean and the much smaller Nantucket Sound. Nantucket light carried the mist of clashing waves, fumes from the ferries coming and going daily, and whirlpools of air as the gulls swooped and shrieked for food. The heart of the island was wild hilly moors stretching for miles, so the air was also filled with scents of low bush blueberries, beach plum bushes, and wind-twisted pine trees. The busy, invisible air absorbed the authentic perfume of warm earth from the warrens of field mice, the cautious trails of deer through the brambles, and the nests of hawks and doves. Their scent joined that of coconut oil, beer fumes, spicy chips, and sizzling meats from the beaches and yards of all the homes and rose to glide in the sky.

Also, the kisses and whispers of lovers, a sweet hidden honey, drifted in the island air.

She wished she could be a bird just for an hour, swooshing through the summer sky.

“Oh, Lord,” Blythe said aloud. “I’ve gone poetic.”

She plumped her pillows and sat up, leaning against them, not ready to leave the dreamworld of her bed.

Aaden had invited her to visit Ireland. Hope and fear shot through her. She felt excited and nervous and guilty, which was ridiculous. She hadn’t gone off and left her children.

But seriously, she told herself. She couldn’t go to Ireland with Aaden for two weeks!

And yet, why not? When Bob and Teri came to stay with Celeste, the four children could stay with them and be perfectly cared for.

Although, what would Blythe feel like if the children wanted to stay in her house? True, it was where all their summer gear was stashed. True, Bob had lived here before, when they were married, but the house her grandmother had left her had always been totally, legally, hers. The thought of Teri being able to look through her drawers and closets made her feel rather sick. Although she was pretty certain that Teri wouldn’t be interested in her old lady clothing.

Her phone pinged, breaking into her thoughts.

Nick.

“I’ve had an idea,” he said when she answered the phone.

“That’s impressive,” Blythe joked. “I haven’t even had my coffee yet.”

He had a good baritone laugh. “Sandy told me you like to hike. Let’s go walk the bluff path at ’Sconset and have lunch at Claudette’s. I’ve never walked the path before. Also, I hear this is the time to see the roses.”

His deep, smooth voice made Blythe snuggle into her pillows. “This is the time to see the roses,” she echoed. “Nick, that sounds lovely.”

“I’ll pick you up at eleven?”

“Please.”

“See you then.”

Smiling, Blythe rose, padded downstairs, and made herself coffee. She went out to sit on the porch. She had so much to think about she couldn’t think at all. And it was too beautiful a day for thinking.

She heard slight noises and Daphne stepped into the doorway.

“Daphne. Sweetie. Come snuggle with me.” Blythe patted the wicker swing.

“I’m already dressed.” She wore a bathing suit with shorts and a long T-shirt.

“Come on.” Blythe held out her arm.

“Mom.” Daphne was a very serious fifteen. Obviously snuggling with her mother was out of her range of acceptable activities. Oh, Lord, was Blythe infantilizing this child? Was she holding Daphne back from being the person she could be? Daphne could cure cancer or bring world peace!

“We’re on vacation,” Blythe reminded herself and Daphne. Didn’t even the smartest person need a vacation?

Daphne trudged across the porch, kicked off her flip-flops, and sat on the swing.

Blythe pulled her second-oldest child close to her. Daphne snuggled into her arm.

“You smell good,” Blythe told Daphne.

“It’s soap. Just Ivory soap.” Daphne rejected all perfumes and most cosmetics, worried that testing on animals was part of the process of production.

Blythe smoothed Daphne’s uncombed hair. “Do you have plans for today?”

“Yeah. Lincoln and I are going to bike out to Cisco and pick up plastic and stuff.”

“Oh, sweetie, we just got here. Can’t you take a day or two to enjoy yourself?”

Daphne bristled. “I could if people recycled or at least picked up their trash and stuffed it in a bin. How can I enjoy myself if I know some poor baby seal out in the ocean is choking on the plastic bread wrapper some family let wash out to sea?”

“I’m sure you know that there’s an official Nantucket Clean Team that goes out every morning to pick up trash.”

“I do know that. But they can’t be everywhere.”

Blythe said, “Well, I am proud of you.” She tried to earn one more minute with her daughter. “Want me to pack up a lunch for the two of you?”

“Thanks, no. I’ve got bananas and water and there are food trucks at the parking lot.”

“Do you need some money?”

“Please. Can I get some out of your purse?”

“Of course. Take a twenty.” Blythe could sense Daphne’s eagerness to get started. “Be sure to take your phone.”

“Mom. I’m fifteen.” Daphne sat up, slipping her feet back into her flip-flops.

Blythe said, “Daphne. You do know you don’t have to fix the world all by yourself.”

Daphne gave her mother a very grown-up look. “Someone does.”

As her daughter went out the door, Blythe called, “Take a sweater in case it rains.”

No answer. After a few minutes, the front door slammed.

Blythe sometimes thought that her children were breaking away from her like rocks in a landslide. Of course they had to leave, to grow up, to be their own people. Now the question was: What would she do with herself? Go to Ireland for two weeks? Teach full-time?

Her morning calm was gone. Blythe went upstairs and into the en suite bathroom for a quick shower. It was a luxury to have all the hot water she wanted because Miranda, who could shower for hours, was still asleep.

Dressed in capris and a blue-and-white striped rugby shirt, she headed downstairs. She heard voices coming from the family room.

Ah, she thought. Miranda has come down to wake Brooks .

She hoped that was why Miranda was in the family room.

She walked down the hall and looked in.

“So, the sea gerbils leave their caves at the exact moment the sun disappears, which makes it impossible for people to see them. They gather beneath the water and flash out like shadows.”

“I see.” Brooks was listening carefully to Holly as she explained a page in her graphic novel.

Holly was dressed in a swimsuit and shorts. Brooks was dressed in swim trunks—Under Armour dark gray with compression liner—she’d bought a pair for Teddy—and a T-shirt. Brooks had folded his sheets and blanket and put them in a corner with his pillow on top. His blond hair stuck out in all directions, and bristles covered his jaw. He would have to shave, Blythe thought, and soon Teddy would be shaving, too.

Brooks spotted her at the doorway. “Good morning, Mrs. Benedict.”

“Hi, Brooks. Hi, Holly.” Blythe waved and turned to leave.

“Hi, Mom,” Holly said, but she didn’t look up from her sketchbook. She had a captive audience and she wasn’t going to let him go just yet.

Blythe went into the kitchen and set out boxes of cereal and a dozen pastries she’d bought at Born & Bread yesterday. Only when it was raining or windy did she make a full eggs and bacon breakfast. The children rarely all got up at the same time. Food would grow cold. And sometimes someone was in a hurry to get to the beach or the tennis court and skipped breakfast entirely. She topped off her coffee and went back to the porch.

Through the open door, she heard laughter, and then she heard Holly, Miranda, and Brooks enter the kitchen. She could tell by his voice that Brooks was happy. She knew he was an only child, and probably often lonely when his parents traveled to other countries and left him with the live-in housekeeper, even though she was perfectly nice.

“MOM!”

“I’m here!”

Miranda stepped out on the porch. “I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“Well, now you have.”

“Can me and Brooks have the car to drive us out to Sesachacha? We want to pick up a couple of friends and spend the day there. We’ll stop at Something Natural and get food on the way.”

Blythe took a moment.

“Mom.” Miranda was using her sweetest voice. “You know we’re both good drivers.”

“Give me a minute. I’m trying to think whether I’ll need the car today. Wait—when will you be back?”

“Well, me and Brooks want to stay out there at night, I don’t mean all night, I mean until maybe ten o’clock? Or eleven?”

“If I let you have the car, Miranda, will you promise me that next time you will say ‘Brooks and I’?”

Miranda frowned. “Brooks and you what?”

Teddy, fully dressed in white shorts and T-shirt, burst out onto the porch. “I’m going to the club to play tennis and stuff.”

Blythe asked, “Have you had breakfast?”

“Yeah, cereal. Bye.”

“Teddy, stop!” At least, Blythe thought, she could still get him to pay attention to her. “You have to give me a hug.”

“Jeez, Mom.” Teddy rolled his eyes but gave her the world’s quickest and fiercest hug—for a moment Blythe couldn’t breathe.

Teddy was stronger than he used to be.

“Mom,” Miranda said.

“Fine. Take the car. But promise me you’ll call me when you get there and check in sometime in the evening.”

Miranda shook her head. “You are so weird.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” Blythe replied, and in a moment of happiness, she hugged her oldest daughter tight and kissed her cheek. “Have fun.”

“Weird,” Miranda muttered as she returned to the kitchen. “Just weird.” But she was smiling.

Blythe was smiling, too.

—

Nick arrived at her house in a big red high-clearance Bronco.

“I didn’t know the Greens had a Bronco,” Blythe said, hauling herself up into the vehicle.

“They don’t. I rented this. I plan to drive out to Great Point this summer, and I need four-wheel drive.”

Blythe fastened her seatbelt. “Have you been there before?”

“Several times. I grew up in Boston and we spent many summers and holidays here.”

“So did I! I inherited my grandmother’s house, the one I lived in all summer.”

“You’re lucky to own a house here. We only rented. And not every summer.”

“Still, it’s surprising we haven’t met before.”

Nick glanced over at Blythe. “I’m glad we’re meeting now.”

“Me, too.” Blythe suddenly felt shy. “Have you always lived in Massachusetts?”

“I took a semester abroad in France my junior year of college.”

“That must have been fun.”

“Oh, it was.” Nick laughed. He was quiet as they made their way around the rotary and onto Milestone Road. More seriously, he said, “That was where I met my wife.”

“She was French?”

“Yes, but she wanted to study in Boston. She was another college student. A chemistry major. Very bright. Brielle.”

“Sandy told me you are widowed.”

“Yes. Five years ago.”

Blythe waited a moment. She sensed he would be okay with her question. “How did she die?”

“Cancer. All of medicine’s knowledge couldn’t save her.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Nick nodded. “It was a bad time. But she did it with such grace. Our son, Seth, is a cellist. She often asked him to play for her in her last days.”

“Sandy said you have another child.”

“Jason.”

“Is he a musician?”

The question amused him. “Oh, no. He’s tone-deaf. He’s a jock. He’s greased lightning on the field but in Bre’s bedroom, he couldn’t move without knocking something over. Brielle said she liked having him around. He provided comic relief.”

“Where are the boys now?”

“Jason’s on the practice squad for the Kansas City Chiefs.”

“Impressive.”

“Seth plays with the Boston Symphony Orchestra.”

“Wow. Music must run in your family.”

“Probably. Dad coached sports and Mom taught music, both at the same school.” Nick laughed. “My sister, Nora, is a teacher.”

Blythe gave him a brief summary of her own family, mentioning that she’d always wished she’d had a sibling.

“Sometimes a friend is as good as a sibling,” Nick told her. “Plus, you never have to beat them up.”

“You beat up your sister?” Blythe asked, faking horror.

“I wanted to. We’re only two years apart, and we fought a lot. When we were little, she’d sock me and I’d pull her hair. We had some legendary shouting matches. Also, I might have put a frog in her bed.”

“At least it wasn’t a snake,” Blythe said.

Nick fake-cringed. “Well…”

“You put a snake in your sister’s bed?”

“It couldn’t hurt her. It was dead.”

“Ugh! Nick Roth, that’s terrible!”

Looking mischievous, Nick recalled, “It was brilliant. She was so mad! Don’t worry. She got over it. We’re good friends now. I’ve mellowed since I was six.”

Blythe was laughing as Nick went around the ’Sconset Rotary and parked in front of the Sconset Market. This village was a different universe from the town of Nantucket. Small, quiet, it was like stepping back into the past.

They strolled through the lane of small cottages, their roofs covered with roses. When they got to the Bluff Walk, they went single file, stopping now and then to comment on the view of the Atlantic, rolling peacefully today. They passed sprawling mansions on their left and on their right, stairs zigzagging down the steep cliff plunging to the beach.

By the time they reached the end and followed the trail back, they were both hungry. At Claudette’s, Nick bought them roasted turkey sandwiches with the works and bottles of water and they settled at one of the tables on the deck.

Blythe caught her breath and tilted her head back to the sun. When she straightened, she saw Nick studying the view of vine-covered mansions and the road slanting down to the beach.

She studied him. He was fit. All that hiking, she guessed. His face was tan, with white creases fanning from his eyes. His shoulders were wide. He looked sturdy. She wanted to put her hand on his chest, right where his heart was.

Nick felt her gaze and turned to her.

“I have to confess something,” Blythe told him. “I’m not a serious hiker.”

“Well, that was not a serious hike.”

“Oh, and what’s a serious hike?”

“The West Highland trail in Scotland. It can take six or seven days.”

“Have you hiked it?”

“I have.”

“I bow down to you, O Serious Hiker,” Blythe teased, not exactly kidding.

“Stop it. Listen, have you hiked up Mount Greylock? In western Massachusetts?”

“No. I’ve only hiked with the kids, and we’ve stayed close to Boston.”

“How about Mount Washington in New Hampshire?”

“I have not. Haven’t even considered it. You must really like to hike.”

“It’s cheaper than therapy.” Nick put his bottle of water on the table and was quiet. Then he raised his eyes to meet Blythe’s. “When Brielle died, I lost part of myself with her. I’ve never been strictly religious, but I’ve always believed in something. I don’t think you can be a musician and not believe in something. Those days were so hard, for her and for our sons. It was five years ago. The boys were in high school. I took a leave during Brielle’s last few weeks, but we made the boys continue at school. Jason with sports. Seth with music. They took Bre’s death hard, but they had more of a balance than I did. I was kind of lost. I still taught, but I wasn’t myself. I was a robot. A minimum-functioning teacher and father.”

Nick closed his eyes. Blythe sat with him in silence. No one else was on the deck and the only sound was the cry of the gulls.

Nick continued, “The boys went off to college. I still had casseroles from kind friends in the freezer, but eventually I had to cook for myself. Worse, I had to eat by myself. When I was teaching, I began to enjoy being with the students. I even enjoyed the endless faculty meetings. In the fall and winter, I attended the symphony and other venues where Seth played. The music has it all, the beauty and the grief. It helped. But the summer was long and lonely.” He cleared his throat. “Loneliness is a killer, isn’t it? I was lonely for someone to hold me and laugh with me and dream with me. I miss the touch of loving hands, the warmth of someone else’s skin next to mine. I had plenty of friends and I loved teaching, but at night I was so lonely…”

Blythe was quiet, waiting. Understanding.

“Then Jamie, who taught science at my school, insisted I start hiking with him.” Nick smiled and rolled his eyes. “He told me I was sadly out of shape. So I started hiking. I liked it. The world looks different from a mountain trail. It’s all so much bigger. When you look down from a mountaintop, you can believe anything exists. Plus, it always seems like an achievement. I asked my sons to go with me, but they have their own lives. Last summer I went with Jamie to Scotland. We hiked and drank Irn-Bru and ended our evenings with Scotch. I came home believing in something again.”

“I’m glad,” Blythe told him.

Nick turned to her. “I’ve talked too much. Tell me something about yourself.”

Blythe took a moment to gather her thoughts. “I know about loneliness. I was lonely during my marriage to Bob. We were kind of like workers on a conveyor belt, dutifully taking care of our children. The children were the center of our marriage, and they were happy, but we were miserable. When we began to talk about divorce, it was as if we could see the sun rising after a long dark night. We’ve been nicer to each other after divorcing than we were before. I’ve been less lonely.”

Nick said, “Good.”

After lunch, they walked down to the beach and waded in the cold Atlantic water. The sun was high and strong.

“You’d better take me home,” Blythe told Nick. “I’m afraid I’ll lie down on the sand and fall into one of those snoring, twitching, drooling sleeps that happen when salt air and sunshine combine.”

“That sounds intensely attractive, Blythe,” Nick joked. “I’ll have to bring you out here again.”

Laughing, they walked back to the air-conditioned Bronco. As they rode home, Blythe closed her eyes and simply relaxed in the pleasure of the day.

“Thank you,” Blythe said when they returned to her house. “I had a great time.”

“So did I,” Nick said. “We’ll do it again.”

“I hope so.” She unsnapped her seatbelt.

“And some night we’ll go to the theater or a movie.”

“I’d like that a lot.”

He had such beautiful eyes. She couldn’t look away. “I have to get out of this car, don’t I?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But you can come sit in it anytime you want.”

“And the Greens won’t think I’m odd, sitting out on the drive in your Bronco?”

“No. Because when you’re sitting here, I’ll join you.”

He made her so happy! Impulsively, Blythe moved toward him and kissed his cheek, then jumped out of the Bronco before she did anything else.

Nick waited until she was in the house, then drove away.

—

No one else was home, so Blythe took a cool shower and pulled on a sundress.

She was glad she’d told Nick about her marriage, but she hadn’t told him everything.

Blythe and Bob had had terrible, bitter arguments. They’d always waited until the children were in bed, and they’d always shut themselves into the den, but did they shout? Maybe. Did they call each other names? She wasn’t sure.

Blythe had wanted to teach full-time. Substitute teaching was so hit or miss.

Bob had told her she should focus on their own children. He was making enough money, God knew, for them to live on.

Blythe had snapped that money wasn’t all their children needed. When had Bob ever helped any of the kids with their homework? Or attended a recital or soccer game?

Bob had reminded her that he was involved in a legal suit against a company that had dumped toxins into Boston Harbor and did she want him to stop working?

Of course not, Blythe said, but Bob wanted to buy a sailboat to moor on Nantucket. Blythe didn’t enjoy sailing and thought it wasn’t right for the expensive boat to be bought with their family income. But, she continued, if she taught, she could help support the family.

Bob had snorted with laughter. With her teacher’s salary? And what about him? When did she ever support him ? Sure, she made all the meals and picked up his dry cleaning, but when did she ever ask about his work? When did she ever initiate making love?

Blythe went out and bought a sexy pair of crotchless lingerie and appeared in the den late one night when he was watching the Red Sox. She’d wrapped a robe around her in case the children woke. She made a dramatic appearance in the den, tossing her robe off and posing seductively against the door.

Bob looked at her and gave her the first sincere and loving smile he’d given her in months.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said sadly, as if he were consoling a child with a hurt finger.

Insulted, hideously embarrassed, Blythe had raced back to her bedroom, ripped off the rather uncomfortable outfit, wrapped it in newspaper, pulled on the robe, and taken the lingerie out to the trash barrel. When she returned to the house, she hurried up the stairs, went into their bedroom, and locked the door.

That night, Bob had slept in the guest room. After that, he slept there so often that the kids asked about it. He told them he’d wrenched a muscle in his back and needed to sleep alone.

A few nights later, they’d talked again, seriously, about their lives. Bob told her she loved the kids first, him second. He’d said that she’d been beautiful in the Victoria’s Secret lingerie, but that kind of sex wasn’t what he wanted, and besides, her C-section cut had showed, and all he could think about was the night Holly was born.

“We have the children,” Blythe had reminded him. “Are we supposed to be wildly passionate lovers, too?”

Bob had taken her hand. “Maybe not. But I would really like to have a wildly passionate lover before I die.”

“Maybe we can’t have everything we want,” Blythe told him sadly.

“Maybe not. But I’d like to try.”

That night, they hadn’t made love.

They’d spent hours with a marriage counselor. They’d tried not to fight in front of the children. They’d been much nicer to each other when they decided to divorce. When they told the children, they spoke honestly but not angrily. The children were confused for a while, and upset, and worried. That was the worst thing about divorce, Blythe thought, your children were caught in between.

But here they were, on Nantucket as they had been every summer, and three years after the divorce, they were all comfortable with the situation. It was an enormous plus that Bob spent much more time with his children. It helped that Blythe had the Nantucket summer house. When Bob and Teri spent a few weeks on the island at his mother’s house, the children stayed there, too, often racing into Blythe’s house for a forgotten sweatshirt or lost earring. Blythe loved how the children moved easily between the two houses. She was glad Bob was happy with Teri, and she hoped that someday she’d meet a man she could be glad to spend time with, although she had her doubts that that would ever happen.

It was miraculous, Blythe knew, that Celeste and Blythe remained close friends. When all the kids were off somewhere, Blythe would make iced tea or, if the time was right, a fizzing vodka tonic with lots of crystal-cold ice and slices of lemon. They would sit on the back porch and talk about the garden, Celeste’s bridge club, and, sometimes, Teri.

One late afternoon, when it was uncomfortably hot and humid, definitely vodka tonic time, Celeste had said, “I have to give Teri credit. She’s a lovely girl, and good with the children. But sometimes she acts as if I’m one hundred years old. Also, she doesn’t read. She hasn’t read anything. When I asked her if she’d like to borrow my copy of Beloved by Toni Morrison, Teri said, and I quote, ‘I’ll just wait and see the movie. I’m an addict of romantic movies.’?”

“She makes your son happy,” Blythe had reminded her ex-mother-in-law.

Celeste had lifted an eyebrow. “And you’re happy without him.”

“I am.” Blythe had glanced down at her left hand, free of any rings. “And your son is happy without me.”

“Mom!”

Blythe’s memories were interrupted by Holly.

“Hi, Mom, I’m in a hurry. I’ve got to change clothes and go to Grandmother’s,” Holly called, thundering up the stairs to her room.

Blythe followed, a load of clean laundry in her arms. “Will you be gone long?”

“I don’t know,” Holly said. “I promised Grandmother I’d come over this afternoon to help make cheddar crisps for a small get-together she’s having this evening.”

Blythe leaned against the door, watching Holly whirl around the room. “Are you invited to this small get-together?” Blythe asked.

“Not as a guest, which—no thank you. She’s only having four or five friends, but she asked if I would pass around the goodies, you know, like a caterer.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in catering.”

“I’m not,” Holly responded casually. “I want to check out this Roland guy she’s dating.”

“You want to check out the guy your grandmother is dating? How old are you?”

Holly shrugged. “ Somebody has to watch out for her. I’ve talked it over with Teddy. We always hang out at her house, so it’s natural for us to be around. And Grandmother is na?ve. She hasn’t dated a new man for probably eons. She owns a huge house on Nantucket, probably worth ten or twenty million. We don’t want anyone marrying her for her money.”

“I’m speechless,” Blythe said.

“Actually,” Holly politely pointed out, “you’ve just spoken. Two words. Three since it took two words to make ‘I’m . ’?”

Blythe laughed. “You’re getting way too smart. And so sophisticated. To think your grandmother is na?ve! Really! Does she know you think that?”

“I don’t think so. She just thinks we like to be around her, and that’s true. We do.”

No one had ever given Blythe advice on how to deal with this situation. She turned the problem over in her mind. “Celeste isn’t senile, Holly. She’s intelligent and capable and she has full use of her senses. It’s sweet of you to look after her, but I don’t think you need to worry. ”

“Sometimes her hand wobbles,” Holly said.

“Sometimes my hand wobbles,” Blythe countered.

“Only after you’ve played tennis,” Holly said.

Blythe gasped. “Oh, give me strength. Don’t tell me you’re inspecting me, too.”

“Not as much now.” Holly sounded as calm as if she were counting to ten. “When you and Dad divorced you had some difficult moments.”

Blythe bit her tongue. Difficult moments!

“Gotta go!” Holly rushed past her mother. “Love you!” she yelled as she raced down the front steps .

The front door slammed again. The sound of voices came from the front hall and then a clatter, which would be Teddy dropping his tennis racket, and then Teddy and his summer friend Azey—his real name was Adam, but he was an identical twin, so one boy was called Azey and one Beezy—stormed into the kitchen.

Teddy had blood on his face and on his white tennis shirt. Both boys were red-faced and breathing hard.

Blythe held herself back. She knew if she fell to her knees and hugged Teddy, he would be mortified.

“What happened?” she asked. Did he fall on the tennis court? Did he get hit by a ball?

“I was in a fight,” Teddy said. He stood in front of her with clenched fists and a recalcitrant expression.

Blythe almost sat right down on the floor. “You got into a fight ?” She’d have been less surprised if Teddy had been bitten by a shark.

Azey explained. “Jack Winchester was making fun of Scarlett’s glasses.”

“And?” Blythe prompted.

“And,” her son burst out, “she already has to wear braces, and Jack was calling her Cyborg and Android and Terminator, and she was crying and I told him to stop, and he didn’t, so I shoved him away from her and he hit me and the tennis pro banned us both from the yacht club for two days.”

“Wow.” Blythe didn’t know whether to praise him or scold him. She gestured toward the table. “Thank you. Azey, sit down. Teddy, you, too. You need to cool off and catch your breath. I’ll give you both a glass of lemonade.”

The boys sat, still radiating an almost visible energy.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Blythe thought, the dreaded testosterone has arrived.

“It wasn’t a real fight, Mom,” Teddy declared.

“Yeah,” Azey cut in. “Jack was all up in Scarlett’s face and Teddy pushed Jack and Jack slugged Teddy in the face and then Scarlett kicked Jack in the leg.” Azey met Teddy’s eyes. “She’s sick, man!”

“Really?” Blythe sank onto a chair at the table. “Scarlett is sick?”

The two boys laughed like a pair of chimps.

Teddy crowed. “Mom, she’s not sick, she’s sick !”

“It’s like slang. It means she’s excellent.” Azey was impressed with himself as translator.

“Scarlett’s banned for two days, too,” Teddy said.

Blythe’s phone buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket, hoping to see Aaden’s number.

It was the tennis pro, Zane. She answered the phone.

“Hello, Mrs. Benedict. The reason I’m calling,” Zane said, “is to fill you in on the incident involving Teddy at the yacht club.”

“Yes. Teddy is here now.”

“Good. He’ll have told you that he was the one who caused the altercation. He pushed Jack Winchester. Hard. Jack fell back against a table and hit his arm. It’s not broken, but it will be bruised for a while. One of our waitstaff brought him ice wrapped in a napkin. Then Jack slugged Teddy in the face. Again, nothing broken, no broken nose. We gave him ice in a napkin, too. But our rule is, as the boys know, no fighting on yacht club property. Both boys have been suspended from the club for two days.”

“But is that fair? Teddy was protecting Scarlett—” She interrupted herself, glancing at Teddy. “What is Scarlett’s last name?”

“August,” Teddy said.

“Scarlett August?” Weird name.

Zane continued. “We have a no-fighting policy. It’s only for two days, and it’s a good thing to happen at the beginning of the summer. Maybe this will be a warning example to other children.”

“I understand,” Blythe said. She wondered what would have happened if Bob had taken the call.

Zane said goodbye. Blythe studied the two boys, trying to decide what to say.

“That was Zane Lewis. He basically confirmed what you told me, and you are banned from the club for two days.”

Again, the phone. This time it was Mrs. August. Blythe held her hand up to silence the boys, wanting to hear her son called a hero for protecting Scarlett.

The other woman sounded angry. “Mrs. Benedict? I’m Mrs. August, Scarlett’s mother. I’m calling because of that very disturbing situation your son caused.”

“Oh, it wasn’t Teddy who bullied Scarlett—”

“I’m quite aware of what your son did. My husband and I have been extremely careful to teach Scarlett that violence is never the answer. Scarlett has been taught to take care of herself and to be strong and to ignore other children’s silly remarks. Your son interfered. He acted with anger and violence. He made an embarrassing scene at the yacht club. Scarlett is still in tears.”

Blythe felt like she’d just fallen down Alice in Wonderland’s rabbit hole. “Mrs. August. My son was not trying to start a fight. He was pushing the other boy away so that he couldn’t continue harassing your daughter. It was Jack Winchester who hit my son, and Teddy has a bloody nose. You should be calling Jack Winchester’s mother.”

“Suzanna Winchester is a dear friend,” Mrs. August said. “I’ve spoken with her and she assured me that your son started the fight.”

Blythe didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. “ Mrs. August, thank you so much for calling. I’m so glad you’ve raised such a composed daughter. And I’m sorry you were given the wrong information about the incident. Goodbye.” She ended the call before Mrs. August, who obviously felt it would be disturbing to give her first name, could say anything else.

“Sit down and eat some cookies,” Blythe told the two boys. “We need to have a little talk.”

Blythe knew her son hated her “little talks . ” They weren’t exactly the high point of her life, either. She knew that a person in the guilty seat tended to exaggerate all facts in his or her own favor. The wisest advice she’d ever been given was to make certain that whatever punishment was given, it wouldn’t be as bad for the supervising parent as for the child. She decided to ban all screen privileges for two days. That meant he still had all of the island to explore. At night, he could read a real book.

She sat at the kitchen table with her son and his friend and pointed out the difference between the way Teddy had described pushing Jack Winchester and the way the tennis pro had. She reminded him to tell the truth. She listened to him moan and mutter when she laid out his punishment, and she wanted to moan and mutter herself.

Finally, she let the boys leave, and they shot out of the house as if escaping a dragon.

That left her alone with her thoughts. Her stomach was boiling with anger and frustration—it wasn’t fair that Scarlett’s mother was a good friend of Jack’s mother! But Blythe had told her children so many times that life wasn’t fair. She had to accept that and remind Teddy, when he returned, to stay away from Scarlett and Jack.

Next, she settled in to more serious thoughts. Was Teddy developing a tendency toward violence now that he was flooded with male hormones? Boys his age fought—wanted to fight. She’d taught middle school. She’d read the books. She’d heard the lectures. She’d actually stopped a few fights herself when she was substitute teaching. One of the first rules she’d learned was not to personally step in to end the fight. That would be a good way to get hit herself.

What should she do about Teddy?

He should have a man to talk to. Was it a problem for Teddy that he had three sisters and no brother? That his father figure was out of the house and not around to deal with problems? She would have to discuss this with Bob. Bob didn’t like being strict or handing out discipline, but he was going to have to at least talk with Teddy.

Could she talk about Teddy with Brooks? Should she? Brooks was a seventeen-year-old male, so he would have insight into the moods and emotions of a thirteen-year-old boy. On the other hand, Brooks wasn’t yet an adult. Maybe it wouldn’t be proper for her to involve Brooks with Teddy’s problems. Or, more accurately, with Blythe’s problems because of Teddy’s actions.

Other thoughts tumbled down on top of those thoughts, like heavy boulders in a landslide. Maybe this was the wrong time for her to become involved with a man, to bring a new man into her children’s lives. But what about her life, her happiness?

Was she sex-starved, narcissistic, or simply perimenopausal? Did she have her own hormones flooding her system and drowning her judgment? Blythe worried that her common sense was trapped in a spaghetti-like maze. Right now, sea gerbils were the good news.