Fireworks
fireworks
Over the next few days, Blythe was the perfect mother. She let Holly invite three girls for a sleepover and asked Brooks to sleep on the living room sofa for one night so the girls could take over the family room and television. She didn’t tell the girls to quiet down until after midnight, and when they woke up at ten the next morning, Blythe treated them all to strawberry waffles with whipped cream. She allowed Miranda to take Brooks and her best island friend, Serena, and Serena’s boyfriend, Riley, to dinner at the yacht club, just the four of them. She bought Teddy a new tennis racket and spent one morning with Daphne picking up beer cans and plastic bags from Cisco Beach.
Nick had to return to Boston for a couple of days, but he called her every night. Blythe snuggled into her pillows with the bedroom lights off as they talked about the music they loved: Miles Davis for Nick, and, unashamedly, Taylor Swift for Blythe. They discovered they shared the same taste in books: mysteries by Ian Rankin and Val McDermid, nonfiction by Nat Philbrick, novels by Carl Hiaasen. What favorite food would they eat all the time if they didn’t have to worry about health or calories? Chocolate, of course, for Blythe. Beer for Nick. But was beer a food? They discussed this seriously. Nick’s marriage, his teaching career. Blythe’s marriage and teaching career. Nick had been seeing a woman named Elena who was a professional singer. Blythe told Nick about Aaden, her first serious boyfriend (she did not say her first true love), who lived in Ireland and sometimes visited Nantucket.
The evening Nick returned to the island, he took Blythe out to dinner. She went crazy getting ready. Did the cleavage on this dress dip too low? And on this dress, not low enough? Dangling earrings were sexy, but were they too sexy? Her legs were spectacular in her heels, but she didn’t want to get stuck between the bricks on the sidewalks—that had happened once and she hadn’t recovered from the embarrassment yet.
She stared at herself in the mirror. “What is going on?” she asked her reflection.
Her reflection didn’t answer. But something was changing, as if a door she’d never seen before had opened, and she wanted to pass through, but was frightened. She didn’t want to be hurt again.
But she did want to be loved.
She heard the Bronco pull into the driveway. Her heart danced. The sight of him at her front door gave her butterflies in her rib cage. She’d forgotten how tall he was, and now he was very tan, which made his eyes gleam like melted chocolate.
“Hello,” she said, and grinned like a love-struck kid.
“Hello,” he said back and bent forward and kissed her, right there in the doorway.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and softly kissed him, and they maneuvered into the front hall and shut the door and Blythe leaned against the door and Nick leaned against her and they kissed and kissed.
“We could go to bed now,” Blythe whispered, flushing red, shameless as a hussy and glad. “No children here tonight.”
She was surprised when Nick pulled away. “I never sleep with a woman on the second date.” His eyes were dancing.
“Maybe now’s the time,” she told him.
“We have a reservation for dinner at the Languedoc,” he reminded her.
“Oh, if we must, ” Blythe sighed, smiling.
They walked into town, holding hands, talking all the way. Their table at the restaurant was on the second floor, and the restaurant was full of happy, good-looking people. Blythe felt happy and good-looking, too. They talked about their early days of teaching, and what things had changed and what had stayed the same. They enjoyed oysters on the half shell and white wine, and salmon caught in Scotland, and more white wine, and bittersweet chocolate pot de crème, which made Blythe close her eyes and lick her lips.
“I could take a photo of you right now and blackmail you,” Nick teased.
“If you bought me another pot de crème, I’d let you,” Blythe replied. “But you know I don’t have much money.”
“It’s not money I’d want,” he told her, smiling.
When they left the restaurant, the sky was high and pale with a curved moon above them. They walked around town, stopping to listen to the street musicians. They went into Mitchell’s Book Corner and Nick ushered Blythe up to the poetry section.
“What poets do you read?” Nick asked.
“I’m stuck in the nineteenth century with the Romantic poets like Coleridge and Keats,” she told him. “And you?”
“Oh, I’m much more in the here and now,” Nick said, grinning.
He pulled out a slim volume of poems by Mary Oliver.
Blythe read one of the poems. “How have I missed her?” She held the book tight to her breast.
Nick held a book of poems by Mark Doty. “Read ‘Spent,’?” he said.
Blythe read it. “Thank you for showing me. I’ll buy this, too. Don’t show me more. Not tonight, I mean. I’m overwhelmed with emotion. I’d forgotten the impact of poetry. I feel as if I’ve been hit in the stomach. How do you know about the poems? Nick, all I want to do for the rest of my life is read these poets.”
“I hope that’s not all you want to do,” Nick said with a grin.
They bought the books and a new novel and went back out onto the street. Now the sky was dark, but shop lights shone, illuminating their way. They strolled into the library garden and sat together on a bench beneath a tall, swaying magnolia tree.
They talked about poetry and poets. Nick told her about Ogden Nash, an American poet and humorist. He brought up Nash’s poem “Just Keep Quiet and Nobody Will Notice” and Blythe burst into laughter.
“That one!” she said. “I’ll use that one in class.”
They spoke about favorite movies and actors and if streaming was a gift or a curse. They compared musicians and artists and novels. They shared memories of their childhood pets and made a pact to adopt a rescue dog or cat when they returned to their real lives in the fall. They discussed what they should do on Columbus Day weekend. They agreed they should all come to Nantucket.
It was after midnight when Nick walked Blythe back home. She quietly worried that such a blissful evening would mean she’d find chaos and drama back in her house, but she was wrong. Holly’s bike was halfway into the garage. Teddy’s enormous rubber sandals were left at the front door as Blythe had insisted he do to stop tracking entire dunes of sand into the house. Daphne’s Red Sox baseball cap had been tossed onto the hall table. Only signs of Miranda were missing.
Blythe and Nick stood in the front hall, holding each other.
“The kids are here,” Blythe told Nick. “We’ve missed our window of opportunity.”
“True,” Nick answered. “But I’m sure we’ll have many opportunities in the future.”
Something magical shivered inside Blythe, all the way down.
—
On the Fourth of July, Nantucket morphed into an island carnival. Blythe and the children usually trekked down to Jetties Beach with hundreds of other people, to spread blankets on the sand and lie back to watch the spectacular fireworks display the town provided.
This year was different, and Blythe realized with a pang that from now on all summers would be different. Miranda and Brooks left to join a group of friends at the beach. Celeste and Roland were invited to the home of a friend who had a deck that provided a perfect view of the fireworks, plus comfortable chairs to sit in while watching.
“My days of lowering myself to the ground to watch the sky have passed,” Celeste told Blythe. “And my days of getting up off the sand have absolutely gone by.” She began to laugh. “If Roland tried to help me, we would both fall over each other like a pair of circus clowns. No, I’m delighted that I’ll be sitting in a chair.”
Teddy was spending the evening and night with his friend Azey, which left Blythe alone with Daphne and Holly. Blythe was trying to think of a way to make this holiday special—for so many years, the family had spectacular cookouts, with Bob displaying his manly skills by flipping hamburgers, hot dogs, corn on the cob, lobster tails, and often fish wrapped in foil with butter and veggies, on their very large Weber grill. After Blythe and Bob were divorced, even though the Nantucket house belonged to Blythe, Bob insisted on taking the grill to his mother’s house because for years the family had called him “Grill Tsar” and had gifted him with an apron and a chef’s toque printed with that title. When Blythe reminded Bob that he could always buy another grill, rather than hauling their old one over to Celeste’s house, he told her that his grill was seasoned, perfect now for grilling.
Loyal sister Kate, standing by, had chimed in, “He’s right, Blythe. Men and their grills are a thing.”
So, three years ago, Blythe had bought another grill and barbecued on it, but she didn’t really have the knack. The burgers were black on the outside, bloody on the inside. The next year, Teddy had bravely attempted to grill on the Fourth of July, but he couldn’t get it right, either, although the family ate his blackened on the outside, raw on the inside burgers and pretended they were delicious.
This year, Blythe made reservations for them at the yacht club, and it was the perfect thing to do. Sandy invited Blythe and her children to join her and her husband for dinner and the fireworks. Miranda and Teddy were with friends for the night, down with the crowd at Jetties Beach.
Blythe walked to the club with Daphne and Holly who discussed with elaborate emotion what they would choose to eat for dinner that night. Holly remarked that the cheeseburgers weren’t as good as they used to be.
They entered the club’s dining room.
Holly eagerly announced, “The Greens are over there, Mom.”
Yes, Blythe saw the Greens sitting at a round table on the porch. And she saw that Nick was with them. She knew he would be, but even so, when their eyes met, heat flared through her.
At the table, she kissed Nick on the cheek, easily, one friend greeting another. He smelled delicious, suntanned skin, tart aftershave, warm man. He was so large and muscular and male, she wanted to press herself against him and kiss him properly. Or did she mean improperly?
Before one of her daughters could take the seat next to Nick, Blythe slid onto the chair, smiling, she hoped, innocently.
Sandy noticed. She widened her eyes at Blythe and nodded slightly, a secret acknowledgment of Blythe’s crush on Nick. Immediately, Sandy ran interference for Blythe.
“Holly, Daphne, sit next to me. Holly, what have you been up to? Oh, and Daphne, Hugh wanted to talk to you about joining a committee to prevent environmental pollution.”
Hugh had been studying the menu. Hearing Sandy’s words, he looked startled but began a conversation with Daphne.
Blythe gazed up at Nick. Why was she so happy to see his face? What was going on here? “Hello.”
“I think the secret’s out,” Nick said softly.
“The secret?”
“That I’m attracted to you.”
Blythe went warm all over. “Me, too. I mean, I’m attracted to you. Oh, good grief, I can’t believe I said that with my daughters so near.”
“Why? Will they disapprove?”
Flustered, Blythe replied, “I don’t think so. I don’t know. They haven’t seen me with any man other than my ex-husband. I mean, not like I’m with you. I don’t mean I am with you, but…” What did she mean?
“I’d like it very much if you were with me, ” Nick said.
Under the table, his knee touched hers.
The waiter arrived to take their drink orders.
Blythe straightened and smiled at her daughters. Daphne returned to her conversation with Hugh Green, but Holly was watching Blythe like an alligator spying prey.
Blythe put on her public face. “How was your time in Boston?”
“It was great. Seth performed Elgar’s Cello Concerto with the symphony. He received a standing ovation.”
Before Blythe could speak, Holly piped up, “I want to learn to play the cello!”
Blythe was surprised. “You do?”
“Yes, very much.” Holly directed her words to Nick. “I have always been the musical one in the family. When I was younger, I learned to play the recorder. I considered the flute, but I prefer the lower notes, so the cello would be perfect for me.”
“Have you heard recordings of cello concertos?” Nick asked.
“I’ve seen videos. My favorite is the Piano Guys playing the theme from the movie Frozen. ”
Blythe held her breath. So much was happening here. She didn’t know that her youngest daughter even knew what a cello was. Nick might think she was silly for liking the famed animated movie music.
Nick smiled. “I’ve watched that. It’s set in an ice cave, right?”
Holly lit up. “Yes! That’s the one! In many cello songs, the music is sad, but in the Piano Guys, it’s exciting, like horses galloping.”
“You should go to YouTube and watch videos by 2Cellos . ”
“ Two cellos?” Holly’s eyes went wide.
Was there anything more endearing than seeing a friend being interested in your child? Blythe was flooded with affection for the man next to her. For a moment she thought she might burst into tears. Holly was a generally happy girl, but only Celeste seemed to connect with Holly like Nick was doing now.
If sweet, imaginative Holly liked Nick, couldn’t Blythe like him? Publicly? Bring him to meet her children as Blythe’s boyfriend?
Behind Holly’s head, Sandy mouthed “Wow!” at Blythe.
Nick and Holly continued to discuss music— cello songs, as Holly called them.
Blythe just sat there smiling.
Their drinks arrived and the waiter asked for their dinner orders, breaking up the musical discussion. Sandy mentioned the trouble the Steamship Authority was having with employees, and everyone chimed in, recounting their most horrible incidents on the ferries. This led to the discussion that happened every year about how the island was changing and what could they do to make people on electric bikes stay off the sidewalks and who owned the biggest yachts in the harbor.
“Speaking of change,” Blythe said, “I’ve decided to teach next year.” She’d broken the news to her children one evening while they were all home for dinner. They hadn’t been too surprised because she’d often substituted over the past few years. Miranda had found a way to suggest she get her own car, so she could help do errands and take her siblings to play dates.
“I’ll think about that,” Blythe had promised.
Now Hugh said, “Good for you. Schools need good teachers. And teaching has changed, too. Schools started using Chromebooks about ten years ago. Now add TikTok, Instagram, Snapchat, ChatGPT.”
Before Blythe responded, Daphne spoke up. “Mom knows all about technology. She’s learned everything from us.”
Blythe wondered if she’d been accidentally transferred to heaven.
Their food arrived. Everyone ate steadily, realizing that the light in the sky was fading. They passed up dessert and went out to the lawn to watch the fireworks.
The first fountains and pinwheels exploded in the sky, a starburst of sparkles.
People cheered. Blythe watched the sky. After a moment, she leaned toward Nick and they stood with their shoulders touching.