Music
music
A few days later, Celeste phoned.
“Tomorrow night is Family Night at the club. Open-air buffet dinner. Sandy’s friend Nick Roth is performing out on the patio, so little kids can run around on the grass. I’d love it if you’d go with me, and any or all of your children.”
“What a great idea!” Blythe already planned to attend because Nick would be performing. “I’ll be there and I think most of the kids will want to go. Let me pick you up.”
“Lovely,” Celeste said.
The next evening, Blythe fetched her ex-mother-in-law at five—Family Nights started early because most of the club’s sun-exhausted little children needed early bedtimes.
“Don’t you look lovely,” Celeste said as she slipped into Blythe’s van. Blythe wore a blue-and-white striped sleeveless dress with a light cerulean-blue silk shawl. Celeste had given her the shawl for her birthday a few years ago, and it slid against her arms like summer air.
“You do, too,” Blythe said. Celeste was wearing a blue and lavender caftan and dangling earrings of coral and turquoise that set off her dark eyes. Blythe had given Celeste the earrings last Christmas.
“Miranda and Brooks have gone to another party,” Blythe told Celeste, “but Teddy, Daphne, and Holly played tennis this afternoon. They promised to reserve a table for us.”
“I’m glad,” Celeste said. “It’s always such a crush.”
When they arrived at the club, Blythe had to park in the back lot because the main parking lot was full.
“Oh, dear,” Celeste said. “I hope they have enough tables for all of us.”
Blythe glanced at her ex-mother-in-law. It wasn’t like Celeste to worry like this.
They walked through the clubhouse and out onto the patio, saying hello and waving at friends as they went.
“Oh, look!” Celeste said. “The clever darlings!”
On the far side of the patio, near the small outdoor stage, Daphne, Holly, and Teddy sat at one of the larger round tables.
“You are geniuses to get this table,” Blythe said.
“Because of this, I’m leaving you all my money in my will,” Celeste promised.
Celeste said this every time her grandchildren did something extraordinary, so they had heard it many times before. Blythe realized how this made her children become used to the fact that their grandmother was mortal, while at the same time, because she said it so often, it seemed that Celeste would never die.
Across the lawn near the clubhouse, large outdoor grills and picnic tables were set up. Teddy went with Blythe to fetch drinks for everyone—tonight it was all self-serve. Blythe convinced Teddy to choose water for himself and his sisters, reminding him that a sugary drink now would weaken the taste of his food. Teddy agreed, probably because they were in public. While Blythe prepared vodka tonics with ice and a slice of lime, Teddy concocted three glasses of soda water with a slice of lime, a slice of lemon, and a cherry for himself and his sisters.
As Celeste and Blythe enjoyed their drinks, the three kids wandered off to see their friends, but soon they all joined the line of hungry people waiting to fill their plates with hamburgers, hot dogs, potato salad, corn on the cob, and fresh fat sliced tomatoes.
Blythe saw Sandy and her husband sitting with Nick and another woman Blythe didn’t recognize. I don’t like her, Blythe thought, surprising herself. How could she dislike a woman on sight? Was she that interested in Nick? For a moment she couldn’t concentrate enough to eat.
“Is everything okay?” Celeste asked.
Blythe turned her attention to Celeste. “Of course. I can’t get over how delicious all this is.”
She talked local gossip with Celeste for a while, and when she noticed a man join Sandy’s table and bend down to kiss the woman Blythe already didn’t like, she suddenly felt happier.
By the time everyone had finished their strawberry shortcake, the buffet tables had been taken away and a stool and a mic were set on the stage. Some children flopped down on the grass. Teddy, Daphne, and Holly stayed at the table, licking their spoons.
The head of programming for the club, Janice Allen, welcomed everyone and introduced Nick. He thanked her, settled on the stool, adjusted the mic, and began to sing.
“Farewell and adieu to you, Spanish Ladies,” Nick sang out and continued singing the old sea shanty about sailors leaving Spain to sail to England.
From the very first moment, Nick’s voice was clear and strong, and as rich as rum, as sweet as honey. History seemed to flash over Blythe as he sang. She could almost see the sailors roaring as their boats rolled and reared over the stormy seas, wave-drenched men heaving on the ropes to the rhythm of the songs. Her hands flew to her chest, as if her heart were about to burst and she needed to protect it. This happened to her often when choirs sang Easter hymns or even when a soloist sang the national anthem at the beginning of a football game. She’d forgotten the power of one voice, the rise and fall of melody, the enchantment of strange words—“Haul up your clewgarnets, let tacks and sheets fly!”—which conjured up visions of older worlds, wilder seas.
Next to Blythe, Celeste was wiping her eyes.
“Mom!” Teddy said. “That’s the theme song to SpongeBob SquarePants.”
Celeste said to her grandson, kindly, “Darling, I’m sure that isn’t true.”
As the sky paled from blue to a smoky lavender, Nick sang “Drunken Sailor” and “Sloop John B.” He told the audience he was adding a few modern sea songs that weren’t proper sea shanties, but belonged to the deep waters. He sang “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” by Gordon Lightfoot.
Afterward he told them, “The depth of Lake Superior is greater than the depth of most oceans. Long before it was called Lake Superior, the Ojibwe named it Gicgi-gami, meaning ‘Great Sea.’?” Next came Billy Joel’s “The Downeaster ‘Alexa,’?” and finally John Denver’s “Calypso,” about Jacques Cousteau and his research ship.
When he finished, the audience rose to their feet yelling and applauding.
Blythe looked at her ex-mother-in-law. “Celeste, I think I’m in love with Nick.”
Celeste smiled. “Darling, tonight everyone’s in love with Nick.”
The event was ending. Families gathered together to walk or ride home. It was only nine o’clock, so Blythe allowed her three children to go into town to buy ice cream, even though she couldn’t imagine how they could want it after all they’d eaten. But then, of course, they were children.
Nick walked across the patio to Blythe. Heads turned to watch him. Blythe noticed various women whispering and for a moment she felt like a fangirl being chosen by a rock star. Nick stopped in front of Blythe, smiling.
She couldn’t help herself. Throwing her arms around him, she kissed him solidly on the mouth. He put his hands on her waist. He had large, warm hands. Blythe nearly fainted.
Celeste cleared her throat.
Blythe dropped her arms. “Nick, you were amazing.”
“You have a beautiful voice,” Celeste said. “Your songs made me remember that we’re all out here on an island, with shipwrecks all around us caused by shoals that have drifted away generations ago. I thank you.”
“Thank you, ” Nick replied.
Blythe stepped back as people crowded around Nick to thank him, to talk about the memories his songs had brought. She returned to her chair next to Celeste. The evening was cool, and they adjusted their shawls over their shoulders. The club’s strings of tea lights came on.
Celeste leaned to whisper in Blythe’s ear. “I’m so proud of him I feel like I’m his mother.”
“I’m proud of him, too, but I certainly don’t feel like his mother,” Blythe said.
Celeste grinned and nudged Blythe’s shoulder.
At last, the crowd dwindled.
“Let us take you for a drink?” a lovely young woman asked Nick.
Nick said, “Thank you, but I already have plans.”
Celeste knocked her shoulder against Blythe’s again and they exchanged a conspiratorial smile.
How odd and wonderful, Blythe thought, that her ex-mother-in-law could enjoy Blythe’s attraction to Nick.
The waitstaff was folding chairs and carrying them away. Nick shook hands with the final admirer.
Nick smiled at Blythe.
Before he could speak, Celeste said, “I’m in the mood to walk home.”
“I’ll drive you,” Blythe offered.
“Thanks, but I’d rather walk. It’s a beautiful night.”
Celeste kissed Blythe’s cheek and strolled across the patio, exchanging goodbyes with the others on her way out.
“Well,” Blythe said, peering up at Nick from beneath her lashes, “now I’m all alone. My children have gone into town for ice cream. I wonder what I should do.”
Nick grinned, acknowledging Blythe’s flirtatiousness. “Why not come for a walk with me? We could head down to Brant Point and watch the boats come and go.”
Blythe thought that if he’d suggested swimming to Hyannis she would agree.
“I’d love that.”
They left the club and strolled along the busy island streets. They passed an old woody station wagon, a banged-up Jeep with the soft-top down, a red Ferrari, and a silver Jaguar, all stalled by the holiday traffic, sandwiched between SUVs. Laughter floated out of Lola 41 . They turned onto Easton Street, walked past the White Elephant hotel, and continued until they arrived at the beach sloping down to the water.
The sand was still warm from the day. The Brant Point Lighthouse stood steadily at the curve of sand that all boats rounded to enter the inner harbor. Its red light flashed every four seconds. Blythe and Nick settled on the sand and gazed out over the yachts and rowboats, Boston Whalers and sailboats, lying lightly in the calm water, their cabins bright with lamps.
“Nick,” Blythe said, “you have such a beautiful voice. Did you ever sing professionally?”
“No. First I wanted to be an astronaut. Seriously. Then, a major league pitcher. Typical boy dreams. In high school, I formed a band with some friends, and for a while I wanted to sing professionally. But our band broke up when we went to college. I didn’t know what I wanted, so I drifted through the required courses. When I was a junior, I met Brielle. She sang, too. She had a lovely voice.” Nick was silent for a while. “Anyway, we were realistic about our futures. Brielle was planning to teach chemistry, so I got my degree in education. We thought that way we could have the same holidays.” He paused, remembering. “And we did have the same holidays. We taught in the same school district and raised our sons. When Brielle was dying…” Nick cleared his throat. For a moment, it seemed he couldn’t go on.
Blythe remained silent, respecting his sorrow.
“While Brielle was dying, she asked me to sing for her. I sang for her, and this made her happy. She was too weak to sing with me, but I saw by the way she closed her eyes and rested that I was helping her. Somehow, I was helping her. She made me promise never to stop singing.”
After a few moments, Blythe said, “Nick, that’s beautiful.”
“Now.” Nick’s voice was gruff. “Tell me about you.”
“All right. Let’s see…” Blythe gathered her thoughts. “I was an only child. I was shy. I was lonely. In high school, I met a wrestler named Aaden, and for a couple of years, he was the center of my life. He went off to Ireland, so that was the end of us. I came to Nantucket to live with my grandmother and work at a summer camp. I loved it. I loved the kids. I knew I wanted to become a teacher.”
“Go on,” Nick prompted.
“I studied education in college. I met Bob at a graduation party. We married, I taught for a while, and then we had the children and I became a very happy stay-at-home mom. The past few years I’ve worked occasionally as a substitute teacher.”
The nine o’clock Hy-Line fast ferry ruffled the water as it headed for the dock. Blythe and Nick went quiet, watching.
“Also,” she confessed, “I love to read. I live to read. If I have a good book, I’m content. More than content, happy. You know how you feel when you enter a house and it seems to already be yours? You like the way the light comes through the windows and the warmth of the rooms? That’s how I am with books. I have my tough times, bad times, like everyone else, but I’ve made it through hard days by knowing a good book was there waiting for me by my bed.” Blythe laughed. “That probably explains why Bob and I are divorced. After getting four children to bed, I wanted a book more than I wanted Bob.”
“I get that,” Nick said. “I’m like that about music.”
“Any kind of music?”
“Every kind. Waltzes, rock, rap. All of it.”
“I’ve never waltzed before. I’ve always wanted to. It looks so dreamy.”
“I’ll waltz with you sometime,” Nick promised.
Happiness bubbled through her. “I’d like that.”
The clock on the Unitarian church chimed eleven times.
“Oh, dear,” Blythe said. “I should go home. My children will think I’ve gotten lost.”
“Or kidnapped,” Nick said with a gentle smile.
Blythe rose, unsteady in the shifting sand. Nick caught hold of her and they stood looking at each other and finally they kissed.
And kissed.
Blythe thought she’d forgotten this kind of greedy, delicious kissing. She wrapped her arms around Nick. He put his hands on her hips and cradled her against him, and she pushed into him so forcefully they almost fell over.
Nick pulled away. “We need to stop. This is too public. Everyone can see.”
“Let’s go over into the bushes,” Blythe pleaded. She laughed, slightly hysterical. “I don’t mean that, I don’t want to go over to the bushes, but I want…”
He smiled. “I do, too. But not tonight.”
“Soon?” Blythe asked, laughing and teasing.
“Soon. Now let me walk you to your car.”
—
The next morning, Blythe made Teddy and Holly go with her on a major grocery shop. When every brown paper bag had been emptied and folded, every bottle of milk and quart of yogurt put in the refrigerator, and all the fresh bananas and grapes draped like works of art in their large white bowl, Blythe told the children they were free to go. As if their tails were set on fire, they raced out the door on their way to the club.
“I’m having lunch with your grandmother,” Blythe called after them. “If you’d like to come…”
“No, thank you,” Teddy and Holly called back, not slowing their pace.
Blythe smiled like the Cheshire cat. She was completely fine with their answers.
Celeste had arranged their lunch on her back lawn and it looked like a scene from a Merchant Ivory film. A white lace tablecloth had been spread over the table, and a bottle of rosé sat in ice in a silver bucket. The plates, Blythe knew, were Celeste’s mother’s Limoges china with gold rims, and Celeste had brought out the heavy silver. Roses and hydrangea perfumed the air.
Blythe kissed Celeste’s cheek.
“This is all very Downton Abbey, ” she said as she sank into the wicker chair.
“It’s a perfect summer day, isn’t it?” Celeste lifted the bottle of rosé and poured them each a glass.
“Oh, dear, wine at lunch.” Blythe was glad to see platinum-rimmed crystal glasses full of ice water, too. “I usually don’t drink wine at lunch. It makes me too sleepy.”
“But what is sweeter than a summer afternoon nap?” Celeste asked. She raised her glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” she echoed, and drank. The effervescent liquid was cold and bright.
Egg salads mixed with watercress were on the plates next to the thickly sliced tomatoes.
“This is a treat,” Blythe said. “Thank you.”
As they ate, they discussed local news. Sharks seen off the south shore. The authors who spoke at the Nantucket Book Festival. The extravagant prices of meals at restaurants.
Then, leaning back in their chairs, nibbling on the grapes Celeste had set in a small silver bowl as a centerpiece, they talked about more personal things. Teddy growing taller every day. Holly creating her sea gerbil book. Bob and Teri, who would be staying with Celeste in a few weeks.
“I’d like to share something with you, Blythe.” Celeste put her hand to her throat, a telltale sign that the something was private and difficult.
Blythe sat up straight, wiped her lips, and lay her hands in her lap. “Of course.”
“It is a delicate matter.”
Blythe nodded.
“Teri came to me this May, when I was visiting them in Boston.”
Blythe waited. The air was warm and humid. Bees hummed among the heavy-headed roses and birds swooped busily from tree to tree. She was aware of her light floral sundress and Celeste’s silver heirloom bracelet that caught the sun and winked as Celeste moved.
Celeste picked up her wineglass, sipped, returned the glass to the table.
“Teri told me she wants to have a baby with Bob.” She held up her hand: Wait. “She can’t seem to conceive. She’s tried for months. She’s seen specialists and she’s fine. Everything’s in working order.”
“Oh.” Blythe bent double, pretending to fix a twisted strap on her sandal. A sense of guilt surged through her, followed by a blast of anger—why should she feel guilty? Because when it happened, Bob had made her promise not to tell anyone, and she hadn’t.
But now she had to.
She straightened. “Celeste, Bob had a vasectomy right after we had Holly. He said he didn’t want any more children.”
Celeste put her hand over her heart. “Oh, my Lord. I didn’t know.” She sent a helpless look at Blythe. “What should I do?”
“Really,” Blythe began, thinking her way through the problem, “Bob is the one who should tell her.”
“But obviously he hasn’t.”
Blythe shook her head. “It’s not fair to Teri.”
“You genuinely like Teri.” Celeste nodded. “I understand.”
“I do. I think she makes Bob happy and she’s nice to the kids.”
Celeste’s mouth quirked in a sad smile. “So, no chance that you’ll get back together with him.”
“No chance at all,” Blythe confirmed. “Sorry to be blunt.”
“No, no. I get it. But I still don’t know what to do. I don’t want to betray a confidence. I don’t want to seem unkind to Teri.”
“All right. Well—” Blythe tossed down a sustaining gulp of wine. “I want to tell you something about Teri.”
“I’m listening,” Celeste replied.
Blythe cleared her throat. Was she really doing this?
“First of all, I want to assure you that I’m not telling you this out of malice. In May, just before we came here, I was at the Copley Place Legal Sea Foods having lunch with my friend Jill. As we left the restaurant, we saw…” Blythe hesitated. “We saw Teri kissing a man. The man wasn’t Bob. He was taller, and younger, and they had their arms around each other and were kissing…passionately.
“I didn’t know what to do, so Jill and I left, almost running away. We were shocked. I’m still shocked. Teri was not kissing the man as if he was a relative or good friend. I’m telling you because I’ve been worrying about this all summer. I didn’t know if I should tell Bob or ask Teri about it. I’ve tried to believe it was a one-time event, but the way they were holding each other…”
“Oh, my.” Tears trembled in Celeste’s beautiful dark eyes.
It surprised Blythe, how pale Celeste was. The older woman put her hands to her chest, as if Blythe had struck her there. In that moment, Celeste’s beautiful face seemed to age and wither.
When she spoke, her voice quavered.
“I don’t know what to say.” Celeste leaned against her chair for support. “I believe you, Blythe. I do believe you that Teri was kissing another man. But she’s always been—demonstrably—in love with Bob. He hasn’t seemed unhappy or worried.”
“I couldn’t decide whether to talk to you about it or not. I’m sorry I told you. I don’t mean to be…tattling on Teri, but…” Blythe’s entire body felt cringy. “But I don’t know what to do. And you always know exactly what to do.”
Celeste didn’t speak. She bowed her head and smoothed the hem of the embroidered white napkin lying in her lap.
“This time, dear Blythe, I don’t know what to do,” she said, her voice soft. “This is a lot to take in.”
“Oh, Celeste, I’m so sorry I upset you. I shouldn’t have told you.”
Celeste raised her head. “You did the right thing. I’m glad you told me. I’ll think about it and let’s talk more tomorrow.”
Alarmed, Blythe hurriedly said, “Or not. We can just forget it.”
“No, dear. We can’t forget it.” Celeste slowly rose from her chair. “Let’s take the lunch dishes inside. I think I need a little nap.”
“Oh, please, Celeste. Let me deal with the dishes. Go ahead and lie down. Please.”
“Thank you.” Celeste walked to the open porch door. She turned to Blythe. “It’s fine, Blythe. Don’t worry.” She walked very carefully as she entered her house.
Blythe took the dishes inside and washed them carefully. When she’d finished, she went to the bottom of the stairs to the second floor and stood there, listening.
Quiet.
Blythe left the house, taking care to shut the front door gently. As she walked, her thoughts stumbled around one another. What had she done? How could she fix it? Should she talk to Teri about it? Or Bob? Was it a terrible, spiteful, gossipy thing she’d done, telling Celeste about her son’s girlfriend? Blythe hadn’t felt gossipy. She certainly hadn’t thought it would shock her ex-mother-in-law so much.
But, come on, she thought, why hadn’t Bob told Teri he’d had a vasectomy?
He needed to tell her! The poor woman. Blythe had friends who had suffered from infertility. It had wrecked marriages.
If Bob didn’t tell Teri—what should Blythe do?