Chapter 20
Twenty
On Thursday morning, I ran alone, then I walked around the back of the house to Connor’s outdoor shower. My dad might’ve banned me from sleeping in Summer Camp, but I could not give up that shower’s ten minutes of bliss!
Speaking of my dad, I could see him and Erica through the shower’s window, out on Oyster Pond together.
I’d recognize my dad’s neon blue and green-striped swim trunks anywhere.
Their paddleboards weren’t far from the shore, and Swede watched them from the beach.
Erica was perfectly balanced on her board, but my dad wiggled all over the place.
Even with the shower on full blast, I could faintly hear my stepmother’s laugh.
Something warmed in my chest, happy that, even with so many people here, my dad and Erica were finding some alone time.
I felt a little guilty for spending so much time with Connor, but my dad didn’t seem to mind. “I’m just glad you’re having so much fun,” he said, then gave me a lopsided smile. “You look happy, Liv…”
Do I not usually seem happy? I’d worried. This year hadn’t been easy, but I didn’t want to think it always outwardly showed.
Today Connor and I had plans to visit Chappaquiddick, the island five hundred feet off Edgartown Harbor. Connor had explored it earlier this summer and described the ferry as “two baby barges going back and forth.”
One of Annie’s photos had been taken on the Dike Bridge.
We’d agreed to head out around 10:00 a.m., but Connor never showed up in the kitchen for breakfast, and he still hadn’t made an appearance by 10:10. You ready? I texted him, but didn’t receive a reply.
“OJ, Olivia?” Topper asked when I climbed onto an island barstool at 10:15.
“Please,” I said, because it was freshly squeezed, smelling delightful. Plus, it didn’t look like I was going anywhere. I could be pretty neurotic at times, but seriously, where was Connor? “Thanks, Topper.”
He nodded like it was nothing, then he asked about my plans for the day. He and Peggy were having lunch with the Fox elders up island. “Christian will bring his sketchbook,” he mentioned, chuckling. “He always does.”
He means Andrew, I deciphered. Christian didn’t strike me as an artist.
“Is Christian married?” I asked, curious nevertheless. “I met his grandson, but…”
“He was,” Topper said as he started wiping down the countertop. “For a very long time. Jane passed away several years ago.”
“Oh,” I said, latching onto the phrase, For a very long time.
That sounded like code for high school sweethearts.
“And what about Andrew? How long have he and Meredith’s grandmother been together?”
“Also a very long time.” Topper chuckled. “But back in the day, the entire island was in love with Andrew, and he was far too aware of it. It wasn’t until he met Bea at a Boston Christmas party that he changed his ways.”
“Oh, wow.” I’d tried to shake away the thought of Andrew Fox potentially being Annie’s summer romance. It could totally just be a coincidence that he was an artist and definitely too convenient that he was so close. There were probably countless octogenarian artists on the Vineyard, right?
I just had this inkling—
“Hey!” Connor appeared in the kitchen, in swim trunks and sunglasses. “We ready?”
I’ve been ready, I thought, but bit my tongue. Why was I so bothered by this? He was late, big deal. We weren’t operating on a tight schedule. Everything was on “island time,” as Peggy called it. It was all about going with the flow.
We sat in a comfortable silence as Connor drove into Edgartown, listening to his Spotify. “You like Taylor Swift?” I asked when a sign reading CHAPPY FERRY told Connor to turn left. “Cruel Summer” pulsed in the Jeep.
“Not particularly,” he said. “This is a playlist coauthored by Liam and Mads.”
“Mmm,” I replied.
“Uh-oh…” Connor chuckled. “Am I in trouble?”
“Why do you say that?”
“I got the mmm.”
Flushing, I looked out the windshield to focus on the road.
Instead of several lanes, the Chappy Ferry appeared to only have one.
Minutes and minutes and more minutes passed before we rolled into the harbor, which in no way compared to the massive Steamship Authority back on the mainland or even in Oak Bluffs. This road was so narrow.
Then I noticed the signs. Off to the right, streetlamps highlighted easy FAQs like operating hours and ticket rates.
I raised an eyebrow at Connor. “We have to pay? I thought you said the ride is five minutes?”
“Less,” he told me, then he put the Jeep in park and unbuckled his seat belt to pay cash-only for our ticket. I followed his lead. There were probably a few more trips before we made the cut.
“Seriously?” I muttered when he selected the “car and driver” option. It was fifteen bucks for a round trip!
Connor gave me a wry look, lips turned up at the corners. “Have you always been this grouchy?”
The ferry could only transport three cars at a time, so it was another wait after we buckled up again.
We found ourselves sandwiched between a forest-green Subaru and a silver Range Rover.
ALL PASSENGERS MUST BE SEATED WHILE UNDERWAY, a sign read, appropriate since a pack of people had boarded and were squeezing onto the foot passenger benches.
Three and a half minutes later we pulled off the ferry to see the beach parking lot off to the left; it looked full, but after two laps, a sandy Suburban started backing out of its spot.
“Thank you!” Connor chirped, then he swiftly pulled in between the two faded lines.
Dike Bridge was a bit of a drive, so we’d decided to lounge on the beach and have lunch first. Sage had mentioned it was her favorite one.
I quickly understood why, with its breathtaking view.
Little Chappaquiddick had a front-row seat to the show that was Edgartown Harbor.
Sailboats of all sizes glided by, speedboats filled with tourists chugged along, and even celebrity-worthy yachts were anchored in the blue water.
I could finally see Edgartown’s historic homes from the waterside.
Flowers bloomed in sprawling green backyards, American flags waved in the breeze, and I couldn’t fumble for my phone fast enough. I had to take a picture.
Families had set up camp in the sand, the water calm enough that plenty of children splashed around in the shallows.
It looked like gentle waves only washed ashore when a boat sailed by, its wake rolling across the harbor.
Connor and I walked along the beach until we reached a stretch of unoccupied sand.
Farther down, I squinted to see a row of red-white-and-blue cabanas. Some type of beach club, I guessed.
After spreading out our beach towels, we traded a bottle of Sun Bum and lay back at the same time, letting it soak in.
I let my eyes drift shut, but they flicked back open when Connor spoke.
“I’m sorry I was late,” he said. “You know, earlier. My dad called. He was on his way to work and wanted to catch up.”
“Oh,” I said, then for no particular reason, asked, “Didn’t you talk to him the other day?”
“Yes.”
I swallowed. “You’re really close to your family.”
Connor reached for my hand. I let my eyelids flutter again, let my heart float. “And you’re not?”
I opened my mouth, but then I considered. My dad and I were close, being an older sister was one of my favorite things ever, and, oddly enough, Erica had been pretty okay the past couple weeks.
What made me hesitate about saying we were close was that I could imagine my family without me in it. I didn’t like that. I couldn’t shake this nagging feeling of displacement.
Connor let the subject trail off, and several beats later, we both hummed with happiness when the sun captured us in its crosshairs.
The light felt decadent against my skin, and it slowed my heart rate…
until Connor moved to wrap his arm around me.
Everything in me leaped then melted once he tucked me into his side.
Shining in a sunbeam, I thought. But warm because of Connor.
* * *
We baked in the sun for an hour, then we decided to take a dip in the harbor. “Not too bad,” Connor commented, letting the water lap up over his feet. His hair shined in the sunlight, almost rose gold. He winked at me. “Should we race?”
“On three?” I asked once we’d backed up five or so feet and taken our marks in the sand.
He reached to zap my waist. “One…”
I pretended to slap his hand away. “Two…”
“Three!” we shouted as we took off, but before my toes could touch the water, Connor scooped me up into his arms.
“Rude!” I protested, but I started giggling when he splashed into the shallow surf.
He held me tight, laughing too, until the beach suddenly got the better of us.
Neither of us were prepared for the harbor’s steep drop-off.
The water went from three feet deep to a sudden seven.
All the air left my lungs once it enveloped us.
“Holy crap!” Connor sputtered once we’d broken the surface. One arm was still crooked around my side. “Did you see that coming?”
“Not at all.” I laughed as I started to tread water. “I don’t hate it, though.”
The water was cool, refreshing with the sun still so bright overhead. Connor and I splashed each other a few times before floating on our backs. We talked about this and that, how summer was the best season and winter was the worst, before he casually brought up a not-so-casual topic: the future.
Not our future together, but still, our futures. “What’s in the cards for you?”
“Northwestern,” I said, slowly running my fingers through the water. “You know that already.”
“Right,” Connor said. “But I meant beyond college. What do you want to do? Where do you want to live?”
“Oh…” I trailed off. Those questions shouldn’t have sent a shudder up my spine, but they did for some reason. “I haven’t given it much thought yet. I’m just trying to focus on the next four years in Chicago.” I paused. “Have you?”