1. Margot
ONE
Margot
THE BEGINNING
I tried to turn sideways to slide between two people. I didn’t want to push my way out, but I couldn’t stay inside any longer. The windows were thrown open at some point, but it was still hot with people clustered together in the small beach house. Summer had settled on the island. High humidity. Oppressive heat. And parties.
My focus was on the escape from the rental house. I didn’t care which door I took. The back toward the dunes or the front that would lead me to the gravel driveway.
I only knew I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want him to see me rush, so I took deliberate steps through the room, hoping I wouldn’t draw his attention if I took my time.
When I made it to the closest door, I exhaled. I didn’t look over my shoulder for fear of risking my getaway. A couple was sitting on the back steps, their noses almost touching. They were oblivious to the waves crashing in front of them or the party going on behind them.
“Sorry,” I apologized when my knee bumped the guy. He didn’t seem to care.
I jogged down the stairs and walked into the backyard just in front of the dunes where a few people lingered. I could still hear the music from there. The windows vibrated from the bass and the lights turned off when the dancing started. I took another step and then inhaled the edges of a cloud of cigarette smoke. I scanned the tiny lawn, but I couldn’t find the smoker.
I wasn’t sure why I stayed at the party as long as I did. I turned for the corner of the sidewalk where a small sun-worn path led to the driveway. I could walk to the Blue Heron from here.
“Margot?”
I cringed. I wasn’t fast enough. I slowly turned around. “Hey.”
“Were you going to leave and just not say anything?” he asked.
I shrugged. I was tired. Too tired to do whatever he had in mind. I had a few drinks. I should have paid attention to how many as I tried to count them up in my head.
“It’s late. I have to work tomorrow.” It wasn’t true, but he didn’t know my work schedule any longer.
Dean shoved his hands in his pockets. His face looked warm, either from too much beer or from the girl who was wrapped around him on the couch.
“What has it been? Like a month?” He posed the question as if he didn’t know the answer. It had been two weeks. The messages he left on my voicemail told a different story. Maybe drunk Dean could play it cool. I found this to be backward that his sober side was worse at hiding things from me.
I nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” I didn’t want to argue with him or fall into his trap.
“Do you want to hang out and talk? I can get you a beer,” he offered.
“I don’t think so.” I pressed my lips together. It was better to leave.
His head dropped slightly. “Who did you come with?”
I stared at him. If it wasn’t so dark, he would have seen that I was not going to answer his questions.
“I’m only asking because you can’t walk home by yourself. I can walk you home,” he offered. “You know there are no streetlights on Marshoak.” Part of me softened at the sweetness of the gesture, but it didn’t last long.
“No. I’m good.” As far as I was concerned, this was the safest place I had ever been.
“I’m not going to try anything,” he argued. “We said we were going to stay friends. Friends do this kind of thing.”
“It’s not that—” I didn’t know how to tell him I didn’t even want to walk down the street with him. It was one more conversation I didn’t want to have.
“I won’t even mention the last time I saw you. I swear.” He raised his hands in the air. “Friend shit only. Let me show you I can do this. For fuck’s sake, it’s been a whole month. I can handle a walk. Shit, Margot, this is messed up if we can’t even take a fucking walk together.”
“Right. Yeah. I know. I get it. Thanks, Dean. I mean it, but I’m going to walk back by myself. You should go back to the party. It looked like you were having fun in there.” I was ready for this to be over. We had been over, way before we broke up, but I couldn’t make him let go. I tried new ways to bury the old connections. Cold. Distant. Mean. It didn’t work with him. Nothing worked.
I tried to tiptoe around the brittle reality. I didn’t want to be cruel. I was afraid if he pushed back, I would open the part of me I hated. The part that went for the pain. How did I beg him not to make me be that person? Not tonight.
“You saw that? It doesn’t mean anything. We’re just hanging out.” I thought I saw him smile. Was the girl a prop? There was a sour taste in my mouth. I wanted to leave, not stir up a past that should stay buried.
“Stop. Just stop. You can hang out with whoever you want.” I started to back away. The words were on the tip of my tongue. Words that would wound him. Embarrass him. Words that could ensure he’d never speak to me again. My throat tightened to keep them from slipping out. “Goodnight. Have fun.”
“Did it make you jealous?” he yelled across the gravel. “Because if it did…”
I picked up the pace. I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want to use the weapons I had. I didn’t want to be that person again.
“Hey.”
My nostrils filled with smoke. I didn’t know who was next to me or how he was suddenly by my side. He walked as quickly as I was as if he was trying to keep up or steer me faster. His arm brushed up against my shoulder. He was tall.
“Hi?” I questioned.
“I can walk you past the house then circle back. Just to get you in the clear.” He took a drag off the cigarette. I couldn’t help but watch his throat as the smoke circled over my head.
“Why would you do that?”
We had careered off the driveway and onto the one-lane road.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because we don’t know each other,” I explained. I knew he overheard my exchange with Dean.
“He started walking after you. I didn’t like it.” He flipped the cigarette onto the street without caring that the end still smoldered orange.
My eyes widened. I was surprised Dean had followed, and I hadn’t realized it. More surprised this stranger intervened. “This isn’t a rescue,” I stated. “Dean is harmless.”
He glanced at the path behind us. “I know Dean.” He stopped. “I didn’t really want to chance it.”
“Chance what?” I stopped too. The neighbor’s porchlight nearby allowed me to see his face. It helped that we weren’t moving so fast anymore. I watched as he popped a piece of gum in his mouth.
“Guys do some stupid things when they can’t get what they want. Dean Waters fits into that category right now.”
I blinked. His jaw was square. His eyes dark. His chin wasn’t as angular as his cheekbones. His lips were firm but perfect. And he had a dark head of hair that made me want to reach up and test a theory I had about what it would feel like running through my fingers.
“You figured all of that out from eavesdropping on our conversation?” I asked. I didn’t want to call him my rescuer. I didn’t believe in knights.
“Hey, I was just smoking outside. You two were talking in the yard. I’m pretty sure I was out there first.”
“I don’t think he would have done anything.” I didn’t know why I was starting to doubt a firm belief I held because this stranger thought otherwise.
“It was a vibe. That’s all.”
I wondered why my heart was speeding up. “I’m Margot.” I offered him my hand.
“Caleb.” He took it.
Our palms slid into place, and I locked that moment in my memory. I somehow knew I would always remember it. The scent of his cologne colliding with the smoke. The smirk on his face. The way the cruelty that had so quickly bubbled to the surface in my veins seemed to have evaporated. I didn’t know how to describe that it felt like Caleb sensed it too. I was annoyed that as a writer I didn’t even have a word that defined that moment.
“Thank you.” I offered a smile. I studied him harder. “I didn’t see you inside the house. Who do you know at the party?” I knew I could keep walking. Dean didn’t follow us onto the road. The Blue Heron wasn’t a long walk, and I wanted to talk to Caleb a little longer.
“Some guys at work told me about it. I don’t even know whose house it is.” He cracked a smile.
I nodded. “It’s a regular beach rental. I don’t know either.”
He chuckled. There was something gritty. Something guarded about how he gave joy. As if he was holding it in and it only accidentally escaped when he wasn’t looking.
“Where do you?—”
“Should I walk?—”
We started to talk at once. I laughed. “Yes. I’m staying at the Blue Heron for the summer. You want to walk some more?”
“I do.”
Our bodies shifted so we faced forward. We walked slowly. Every few steps his fingertips brushed my knuckles. I didn’t jerk away. I waited for the next time it happened.
“The Blue Heron, huh? You know Walt?”
“Yes. He’s my uncle. My mom’s brother. I’m here for the summer.” I bit my lip. “What about you? Are you from Marshoak?” He had to be if he knew Dean.
A car drove past, kicking up a wake of warm air and dust.
“Yes. I grew up here. Everyone in my family has. I work in one of the boatyards.”
“Oh, do you like it?”
He shrugged. “Most of the time. A lot happens in the summer while the tourists are here. It’s busy.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Not what you were expecting?”
I tried to rearrange my face. “No. I had no expectations. None.” I was used to meeting tourists with no ties to the island or even North Carolina. I didn’t know what category I fit into. My uncle lived on Marshoak and my mom and I visited him nearly every summer. That didn’t make me a tourist or a local. I was something in between.
There was something undeniably attractive about Caleb. He had a face I knew I would think about when I closed my eyes tonight.
I led him onto the gravel drive of the Blue Heron. Caleb followed me up the stairs to the small stoop on the front of the house. He wasn’t big and bulky, but he was athletically toned. I noticed how the sleeves of his T-shirt stretched over his biceps.
“Nah. Training starts soon. I’ll be gone in a few weeks.”
Caleb seemed older. Not too old, just older than me. I tried to figure out our age difference by looking into his eyes. This was when I lost my balance. I wondered if this was normal to meet someone and feel affected so quickly. It was like a headrush. I wanted to ask him about the training, but he had a skilled way of redirecting me.
“What about you?”
I twisted my lips together. I debated whether to tell him I was a writer. I wanted to tell him about the book I had been working on all summer, but it felt too vulnerable an admission.
“I’m not sure,” I lied. Telling him more about myself didn’t feel right.
“No way.” He smiled. “Where do you go from here? You seem like the kind of girl who has it all figured out.”
I laughed. “It doesn’t feel that way.”
“If it doesn’t now, it will soon enough.”
We reached the steps.
I smiled quickly, but I didn’t move for the door. The key was hidden under the mat and even though Caleb felt safe it had been drilled into me that I couldn’t show him where the key was. Uncle Walt would kill me.
“So Dean Waters?” He kicked the toe of his boot on the brick step.
“What about him?” I carried a pit of resentment in my stomach toward Dean.
“Can I call you? Is that a problem?” he asked, and I felt the warmth seeping into my bones. “I don’t want to get in the middle of something.” The bitter pit dissolved almost instantly.
I nodded. “Yes. I mean no. No, it’s not a problem. We broke up at the beginning of the summer. You can call.” I wanted to blurt out that it was a stupid summer fling that never should have taken off in the first place.
“Good. Because I want to call you.”
There was an invisible pull. A current running between us. Maybe it was the kind of current that can only run between strangers. Shallows and depths that haven’t been touched or discovered rushed freely. Murky water. Clear crystal waves. All the seasons washed together. How were strangers supposed to know what the tides were like without wading in?
I turned to Caleb as his hand reached for my cheek. I thought his skin should be as cool as he was, but it wasn’t. It was warm, hot almost as he pressed his palm against my face. Was he nervous like I was?
I thought he was about to kiss me. I didn’t question whether it was too much too fast. I waited, wanting to know what this kiss would feel like. How did Caleb kiss? Would he take his time and memorize my lips the way I wanted him to?
“Your number?” he reminded me. But it was hard to move with his hand against my jaw. I wanted to stay there. Locked like that.
Right there everything was perfect. I couldn’t hurt him. He couldn’t hurt me. We could linger in that space where everything felt laced with magic and fate as if the Universe had stepped in and made our paths cross. It was the moment when regret didn’t live between us. I wanted it just a little longer. To hold it. Before I tipped. Before I fell. Before all I had left were memories.