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The next morning, Blythe woke early, full of worry and hope.
Her phone pinged. Lazily, she reached for it on the bedside table. “Hello?” Her voice was husky. She needed coffee.
“Good morning, Blythe.” It was Aaden. Aaden! His voice was the background music to her adolescence. Hearing it now, over the phone, transported her back to those early days when they first fell in love and thought they’d be together forever. Sneaking a kiss behind their locker doors. Raking leaves together and diving into the pile, holding each other and laughing, gold and ruby leaves caught in their hair, on their sweaters, on their jeans. Snowy-night phone calls when a storm iced the pavements to slickness and she or Aaden had winter colds and they croaked to each other for hours about their love. The spring afternoon when they had taken their terrifying SATs and exploded out onto the elementary school playground to scream as they zipped down small people’s slides and Aaden pushed Blythe’s swing so high in the air she thought she could fly away.
The evening when Aaden told her he was going to Ireland for college.
Now, it was a future neither one of them had imagined. His voice was the same velvet voice she’d heard for so many happy months so many years ago.
“Could you have breakfast with me? Something has come up and I have to fly to Dublin today. I’ll be back, but I want to talk to you before I go.”
“Um, sure, I guess.” She sat up in bed and tossed her covers aside.
“I’ll pick you up in ten minutes.”
“Please make it fifteen.”
She quickly showered and dressed. All the children were in bed, Teddy snoring, Daphne reading, Holly tapping away on her laptop, and Miranda whispering on her phone.
Blythe left a message on the blackboard telling them where she was going and when she’d be home and they should get their own breakfasts.
Aaden arrived in Arnie’s ancient station wagon with wood paneling. Blythe saw him and slipped out the front door, waving as she walked to the car.
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. She inhaled his Aaden aroma, a mix of mint and musk, which she’d always laughingly called “Irish Spring.”
They talked lightheartedly about the weather, the traffic congestion, the sharks beginning to circle the island. At the restaurant, they placed their orders and settled back with their coffee.
“You look great, Blythe,” Aaden said. “Salt air is doing you good.”
Blythe thanked him and kept her gaze on her coffee, protecting herself from his charm.
She didn’t look at Aaden, but stirred her coffee, as if she hadn’t already stirred it. Now that he was here, so near her, she was confused. She’d been attracted by him the night they had dinner and attracted yesterday to Nick. She felt unbalanced, emotionally dizzy.
“You said on the phone that you’re leaving.”
“I’ve got to go back to Ireland. For a week or so. But I’ll return to Nantucket as soon as possible. Arnie has invited me to stay with him whenever I want.”
“I’m glad we got to catch up,” Blythe told him, as if she didn’t care if she saw him again.
“Whoa.” Aaden frowned. “Blythe. I’m going to see you again. Absolutely. It might be ten days instead of a week, but I will return and I want to spend time with you. Lots of time.”
Blythe lifted her eyes. She did love looking at the man. He seemed even more handsome now, with flecks of gray in his hair. His voice was as seductive as always.
She still loved him. She would always love him, in a way. But would she ever trust him? Really, the situation was impossible. He would never leave Ireland and she would never leave her children.
“Aaden, don’t hurry back because of me.”
“That’s a little cold.”
“No, wait. Let me say it. It is lovely seeing you again. But our lives are so different. I don’t think we should imagine a future together.”
Aaden reached out and held her hand. “I’d be happy imagining a full night together.” The intimate touch of his skin, the charming lilt in his speech, woke memories.
She pulled her hand away. “Don’t try to be seductive, please. I need to be realistic.”
“What we had was real.”
“That was years ago, Aaden.”
“True. And here we are now, together, and I want you as much as I always did. Remember the time I kidnapped you from attending assembly and we hid in a supply closet and kissed for almost an hour?” He smiled his bad-boy smile, inviting her to join him in memories.
Blythe nodded. Remembering flushed through her.
Aaden leaned toward her, his voice low and urgent. “I was desperately in love with you. Have you considered what might have happened if you had come to Ireland with me? We could have lived all the times of our lives together. Blythe, I regret that every day. But we still have time. I am coming back to Nantucket. Fate has brought us together again, and I will not refuse to take a chance.”
God, he was beautiful, Blythe thought. She had loved him more than any other man; even after she had lost him, she had loved him more than she’d loved Bob. Her heart cramped with guilt. She hoped Bob hadn’t known.
She cleared her throat, sniffing back tears. “Take a chance, you say. You sound like you’re gambling.”
“Ah, sure, and what love isn’t a gamble? Taking a breath is a gamble. Life is a gamble.”
Aaden took her hand again, and this time she did not take it away.
“Gamble on me now, Blythe. I’m a sure bet.” His smile blazed.
Absolutely like a lightbulb flicking on, a thought flared. Blythe was almost surprised when she spoke. “But can you gamble on me ?”
She assumed he’d be shocked, even hurt. Instead, Aaden laughed.
“Ah, that’s why I love you, Blythe. You can still surprise me. You always could. That’s why we’re so electric together. I want you to come to Ireland. Stay for two or three weeks. This summer. I’ll show you around and I know it will call to you.”
“I don’t know…”
She remembered how she was with him, different, more carefree, even wild. In high school, they had egged each other on in small mischiefs like skipping assembly, kissing in the supply closet. Just being with him was like climbing onto a motorcycle, arms wrapped around him as they sped away.
But now she had children. She couldn’t afford to gamble.
Aaden sensed her thoughts.
“Let’s do this. Let’s agree to text each other. Facetime each other. Get to know each other. I don’t want to lose you again.”
“Yes, let’s do that.” It was a good idea, Blythe thought.
They left the restaurant. Aaden drove Blythe home and kissed her chastely at the door to her house.
Not until Aaden was driving away did Blythe think, But Aaden didn’t lose me. He left me. He will always leave me for Ireland. How could she compete with an entire country?
And did she even want to? Was she attracted to Aaden simply because he was attracted to her?
—
Their summer days fell into a pattern. In the mornings, the children slept in, spread like starfish on their beds or curled up into a lump in their covers, enjoying the luxury of free days. They took the bus all over the island, or Miranda drove them when everyone wanted to go to the same beach. Blythe washed sheets and beach towels, swept up the never-ending scatterings of sand, cut flowers from the backyard and arranged them in vases around the house. She made cakes with buttercream icing, and the cakes were gone in a day. She sliced peppers, carrots, and cucumbers, arranged them in a glass bowl in the refrigerator until, in the late afternoon, the kids came thundering back into the house, diving onto the food like gulls at the harbor.
She planted cherry tomatoes in several different plots, and geraniums with flowers like pink and white candy, and begonias and pansies. In a small room off the kitchen, once a pantry, Blythe had established a kind of office with a small desk for her laptop, printer, and Post-its scribbled with reminders. Each square on her large wall calendar was filled. Cocktail parties with old summer friends. Volunteer work for several non-profits. Nick called every day, and one night she joined him and Sandy and Hugh for a gala dinner for A Safe Place. She’d been glad to see him, but there was no chance for private conversation. When she was at the beach or as the children came in from a long beach day, Blythe snapped informal photos on her phone, printed them off, and stuck them to the refrigerator with the alphabet magnets she’d bought for Miranda seventeen years ago. She always knew when the kids saw the photos because she heard screams of laughter in the kitchen. Aaden texted her from Ireland, sending photos of the Ha’Penny Bridge and St. Michan’s church and she sent back photos from the beach.
She was restless. Something in her life had changed. She wasn’t frightened. She wasn’t angry. She was…excited. Hopeful. Something was out of control. She felt like a woman waiting for the Powerball numbers to come up while she held her scratch ticket. Not that she’d ever played the lottery. She was too cautious for that.
Maybe she’d be less cautious this summer.
One morning, Nick called.
“Blythe,” Nick said. “It’s a nice day. Let’s go rent a couple of kayaks.”
If he’d suggested going up in a hot-air balloon, Blythe wouldn’t have been more surprised. She’d never been in a kayak before, and the idea was tempting but worrisome. She’d been with friends in sailboats and motorboats, of course, but this would be the first time Blythe would, as Louisa May Alcott said, paddle her own canoe. What would happen if one of her children needed something? She reminded herself that their grandmother was here on the island, and so was their Aunt Kate. Nick wasn’t inviting her to sail to Maine.
She said, “That’s a great idea, Nick! Let’s do it!”
She pulled on her bathing suit and covered it with a long-sleeved T-shirt to protect her from the sun. Nick arrived in the bright red Bronco, which made Blythe feel young and reckless.
“I brought sunblock. We should use it on our noses. On each of our noses. I mean, we don’t have more than one nose. You know sun reflecting off the water can cause sunburns.” Was she babbling? She was babbling. She laughed at herself, which didn’t make any kind of sense, and behind the steering wheel, Nick smiled.
At the far end of the harbor, Blythe and Nick found Sea Nantucket Paddle Sports and Blythe was delighted by the “Sea Nantucket” pun. The owner had life jackets, which made her feel even better. It was slightly creepy to slip her legs inside the shell sitting almost in the water, but after a couple of strokes with the paddle, Blythe’s body adapted and as they slid through the water away from shore, she experienced a rush of pleasure.
“I feel like I’ve become a very odd fish,” she told Nick.
“You’re paddling like a pro,” he told her.
They headed out to the harbor, carefully weaving around sailboats and fishing boats. A small yacht seemed to tower above them from their water-level view. They glided to the end of the harbor, which was too shallow for anything but kayaks. The ocean had flooded the marshes, making several watery trails that led them as if they were navigating a maze.
“It’s so quiet,” Blythe whispered.
“That’s the pleasure of a kayak,” Nick told her. “No motor.”
He took a trail to the west. She headed east.
The watery path was narrow and shallow. She dipped her paddle and easily touched the bottom and the last of her disquiet faded away. Golden grass enclosed the salt marsh, so high she couldn’t see over it. Birds occasionally swooped low, flashing past her silently moving boat. In the distance, a white heron stood at the end of a sandbar. The sun was strong. The air was still. This place was here all the time, Blythe realized. While she fretted about her children or laughed at a joke or sang in the shower, this still, silent place was always here, the end of the harbor, the beginning of the sea, a luminous world. She watched a crab creep over the sand between the seagrass. She saw flickers of small silver fish—minnows?—in the water. A bead of sweat trailed down her cheek. Her heart beat quietly. She closed her eyes and simply floated there in the brown, peaty water.
“There you are!” Nick came around the corner of one of the winding creeks. “Are you stuck?”
“No. Just enjoying the silence. Thanks for bringing me here, Nick.”
“My pleasure.”
Nick paddled away and Blythe followed. She knew she could easily get lost in these creeks and now she was hot, and her nose was burning.
Later, as they ate lunch at Lemon Press, Nick asked, “Have you decided about taking the seventh-grade job?”
“Not really. I’ve got so much going on with the children.”
Nick nodded. “I get it. But when won’t you have so much going on? When will you feel ready to teach again? I know your kids need you, but you’ve said you love teaching and so many other kids need you.”
Blythe studied the shine of the sun on her fork as she thought. She couldn’t remember a time when anyone had said what Nick had said, that the other kids needed her. Emotion welled up inside her, shoving against her heart, waking a pleasure she’d forgotten was there. She had been a good teacher, even as a substitute. A few times a teacher would be out for a month, and she’d been able to get to know the students, to sense their response to her, to see how their papers improved. Sometimes a former student would stop her in the grocery store or post office and thank her for forcing them to learn how to write, because she was now president of a company. Or a man with a baby in his backpack would yell, “?’Sup, Mrs. Benedict? Found any dead mice lately?” and while strangers looked askance at Blythe, she would remember teaching a class a Billy Collins poem about loving a dead mouse, and her heart would swell with pride and joy because so many years later, that father remembered that poem.
At least he remembered the dead mouse.
But she was older now, and she had four children. She said, “I know you’re right, Nick. I’ve got to decide. I will decide. I’m glad you’re pushing me on this. It’s so easy to get lost in family problems. And I know I’ll be happier when I’m teaching.”
She took the last sip of her coffee and stood up. “I’m going home. I’ll call Krebs now. Thank you for this wonderful morning. I’m inspired!”
The late June light was strong, warming her shoulders and brightening the streets as she walked home. Her time with Nick always seemed to bring out a part of her that could so easily be forgotten. She remembered how much she’d enjoyed teaching. The silent focus on putting together a lesson plan. The honeybee swarm of energy she felt whenever she entered the classroom. The delight of talking with the class, the joy when some students really got it, and the exhilaration she felt when challenged by a student. The pleasure of intellectual fencing. The beauty of the young faces. Coffee and laughter with colleagues in the teachers’ room. The windows framing autumn leaves, snowflakes, spring flowers.
But how would this affect her family? She wouldn’t be home during the day, and she’d be busy at night grading papers, doing lesson plans. On the plus side, she’d have money of her own to help allow the children to take music lessons or buy wonderful Christmas and birthday presents. She could even take them all on a trip somewhere special—to Quebec or even, if she saved her money, to a play and a night in New York. And she’d be showing her children that a woman could have meaningful work and a family at the same time.
Oh, she was excited.
She found Harry Krebs’s number and called.
When he answered, she almost hung up. But she said, “Hi, Harry. It’s Blythe Benedict. Do you still need a middle school teacher for the coming year?”
—
That evening, Blythe invited Celeste over for a drink. They sat on the back porch, sipping icy cold vodka tonics, listening to the kids coming in and out. Blythe told Celeste about her return to teaching, and Celeste applauded.
“This is just the right time,” Celeste told her. “Your chicks are learning to be self-sufficient, and you can return to a job you love. I’ll bet you’re a wonderful teacher.”
Blythe glowed with pleasure. She was so grateful for Celeste’s love and approval.
“Thank you, Celeste.” She sipped her drink. “And how are you ?”
“How am I?” Celeste seemed surprised. “I’m just fine, don’t you think?”
“I think you’re wonderful, but I worry because you’re alone in your big house.”
Celeste found a spot on her sleeve that needed ironing out with her fingertips.
Blythe waited.
Finally, Celeste cleared her throat and met Blythe’s eyes. “Please don’t worry. In the summer I’m never alone. In the off-season, I spend time with friends and serve on several town boards. Kate checks in on me every day in the off-season, and I am grateful, although I realize I’m another ‘Must Do’ on Kate’s busy list of obligations.”
“Oh, Celeste, Kate loves you.”
“I know she loves me.” Celeste spoke curtly. “But I know she considers me a responsibility, and that is very close to being a burden.”
“Maybe she’ll relax when Bob and Teri come to stay for two weeks,” Blythe suggested.
Celeste laughed. “Maybe she’ll relax. I won’t. Bob and Teri absolutely swarm over me, insisting on taking me out to dinner, or worse, Teri wants to cook dinner at home, and Lord, she’s a terrible cook. At some point, Bob will take me aside for a ‘little talk’ to remind me to put away the pictures on the hallway wall that have Bob grinning proudly with you and your newest baby or during a holiday. Bob tells me the pictures hurt Teri’s feelings.”
This was the moment, Blythe knew, when she could mention seeing Teri kissing another man that day in Boston. That moment had been so brief, and yet so enormous. Should Blythe have a private talk with Bob, or ask for a meeting with both of them? Should Blythe tell Celeste and ask her advice? But no, she didn’t want to gossip, even though Blythe’s worries scrolled out into fears that if Teri left Bob, the children would be even more hurt, certainly more confused.
Celeste was laughing. “I’m absolutely not taking the photos down. I always remind him that the children would be upset if I did.”
Blythe was glad she hadn’t mentioned Teri’s kiss. She changed the subject. “You’ve also got a boyfriend. Tell me about him.”
Celeste shifted in her chair. “Oh, he’s really just a summer friend. Remember when you were young? I always lost my heart to some summer boy who vanished in September.”
Intrigued, Blythe leaned forward. “Have you lost your heart to Roland?”
“Oh, heavens, no. I enjoy going out with him. But he’s a summer person, and he lives in Florida in the winter. He’s invited me to visit, but I know from the grapevine that he has plenty of girlfriends in Naples.”
Blythe sat back in her chair, slightly confused. “At dinner with the children, you made it sound…more romantic.”
“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” Celeste gazed into the distance.
Blythe kept quiet.
Celeste looked down at her hands when she admitted, “The thing is…and this is for your ears only…I do my best to appear active and interesting to my grandchildren.”
Blythe started to object. “Oh, but you—”
Celeste held up her hand. “Darling Blythe, one of the realities of old age is that I don’t have any illusions. I don’t try to diet because at my age I need a little fat to protect me in case I fall. And I’m certainly not trying to get thin for my summer grand events as I did into my sixties. I’m only trying to stay healthy enough to prevent my last grand event.
“I’m speaking honestly now, and you mustn’t contradict me. I dread what will happen when I’m truly ancient and crippled and wrinkled and moving slow as a tortoise, with arthritic fingers like a fairy-tale witch. I might decide not to see the grandchildren then. I don’t want them to remember me like that.”
“I can understand,” Blythe said quietly. “I only hope you know that my children adore you, and they’ll adore you when you’re ninety-nine and an arthritic tortoise.”
“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Celeste responded. “If I’m lucky.” Before Blythe could react, Celeste continued. “I hope you know how grateful I am that you have so many children.”
Blythe chuckled. “We only did it for you.” After a moment, she said, “Of course, Kate’s kids are your grandchildren, too.”
Celeste nodded. “Yes. But Chip is twenty-two and Melissa is twenty. They have their own lives, good, busy lives, off-island.”
“Kate must be so happy with how they’re turning out.”
Celeste agreed. “True.” After a moment’s silence, Celeste said, “But to your concern about me living alone. When I was younger, like your daughters, even like you, I only thought about how I looked to other people. Clothes, hairstyle, exercise outfits. Now I really care less about that—I do try to look, at the very least, not insane—but now I find I care more about looking out. I don’t just mean I like watching people, because of course I do, and I enjoy celebrity news as much as anyone. But I prefer sitting with the world. Listening to the wind. Watching birds sing and squabble. The way the sun comes through my chandelier and makes dancing rainbows on the wall. Einstein said, ‘Either everything’s a miracle or nothing is a miracle.’?” Celeste laughed lightly. “I probably sound senile to you.”
“No, Celeste, not at all!” Blythe put her hand on the older woman’s arm. “The other day I was thinking about Nantucket light. How it’s different from light anywhere else in the world.”
“Oh, yes. I agree.” Celeste took Blythe’s hand. “Tell me, what else have you been thinking about?” She peered at Blythe with a smile.
Blythe stared down at their two hands. Celeste’s skin was soft and spotted with brown age spots. Her knuckles were swollen from arthritis, but her nails were painted a pale pink, and she wore her heavy diamond engagement ring and wedding ring on one hand, and an opal surrounded by diamonds on the other.
Catching her gaze, Celeste said, “I know. The opal ring is stunning. Kate has insisted that she’ll inherit it, and she hints that she doesn’t want to wait until I die because I’m so obviously not ready to go yet. Most of my jewelry will go to you and your daughters and Kate’s daughter. I’m sure I have enough to go around.” She gently pulled her hand away from Blythe’s and held it up, turning it this way and that to watch the fire opal flash.
“I don’t wear my engagement ring and wedding ring anymore.” Blythe looked at her own hands, tanned and ringless.
Celeste chuckled. “Of course not. You’re divorced.” Celeste paused. “Now. I’m happy to hear that you have a new man in your life.”
Blythe froze, torn between telling Celeste about Aaden and fearing it was the wrong thing to do. “You mean Nick Roth?”
“Absolutely. I saw the sparks fly when you met him after dinner at the yacht club.”
Blythe relaxed. “Yes, Nick is a friend of Sandy’s husband. I’ve spent some time with him. He’s very nice, and he coaches soccer and teaches history at a high school near where my children go. I find him…very attractive.”
“Take some advice from an old woman. Go out with Nick Roth, if he’s interesting to you at all. You don’t have to be madly in love with the fellow. You can have fun. You can even have some pleasurable sex. When you’re my age, you’ll be glad for the memories.”
Blythe knew her face had gone red. She wanted to blurt out that she was seeing both Nick and Aaden. And it was so confusing, but also kind of fabulous. Two attractive men in her life?
Fun?
Pleasurable sex?
Really?
She didn’t know if she could actually have a relationship with a man. Ever since she held her first infant in her arms, she’d had a powerful fear caging all her thoughts. As a mother, she was responsible for the health and welfare of her children, and she believed if she ignored that in order to please herself, she would set a chain of events in motion that would somehow hurt her children. She knew it was irrational, but she couldn’t shake the idea.
Celeste leaned forward. “While I’m so full of advice, I’ll share one more insight with you. You’ll discover when your children grow up and become adults that you will love them, but you might not like them.”
Blythe laughed. “Oh, Celeste, I’ve already disliked my children more times than I can remember. And they have certainly disliked me.”
Both women went silent when they heard Holly and Daphne enter the kitchen. Arguing.
“Holly, gerbils eat insects. ”
Holly sniffed. “You always know everything, but my gerbils are different. They are sea gerbils. Just look at my book, please?”
“Fine. But don’t get mad at me if I criticize it.”
The two girls stomped up the stairs, their voices trailing behind them.
“Oh dear,” Blythe said. “Do you think Holly feels inferior to Daphne?”
“Of course,” Celeste answered easily. “Daphne is older and whip smart. But Daphne is respecting Holly’s work by discussing it. And isn’t it a good thing for Daphne to have a younger sister who admires her?”
Before Blythe could answer, Teddy came through the house, yelling, “Mom! What’s for dinner?”
Blythe smiled. “He doesn’t even know if I’m in the house.”
“But you are here, and he’s hungry, and I need to go home.” Celeste rose.
“Stay for dinner. I’m heating up a casserole.”
“Thank you for asking, but I’m meeting Roland at the club.”
Blythe kissed Celeste’s cheek as she left. She heated the casserole in the microwave and made a salad, singing at the top of her lungs, which she often did to let the children know she was here, and preparing dinner. All the children swarmed in to set the table, pour glasses of water, and somehow everyone seemed to talk at once while also almost inhaling the food.
Then they helped clean the kitchen and disappeared in different directions. The front door slammed. The television blasted a Marvel movie into the air. Miranda and Brooks played badminton in the backyard, screaming with laughter.
Blythe called Nick and told him about her new job. They talked while the sun set and the moon rose high in the sky.
When she went to bed, she found a text from Aaden.
I miss you. I wanted to send a shot of me smiling on the Ha’Penny Bridge, but the rain has been constant and the sky gray, so I will wait. Here’s Awen’s office on Merrion Square. It’s handsome, don’t you think, even in the rain?
Please send me a photo of your lovely self so I can have some sunshine in my life. Love you.
Blythe started typing but erased her words and started again. To say that the weather was beautiful on Nantucket seemed mean. To tell him to hurry back would be misleading. To mention Nick would be wrong, and premature. Her feelings were in a whirlpool.
We’ve been busy here. I’ve gone kayaking in the sunshine (sorry). Good luck with your work.
She knew her message lacked warmth, but it was the best she could do. To soften the bluntness, she added XO.
She set her phone on the bedside table. She was smiling an absolutely silly smile, and she hugged herself.
“I’m so popular!” she said to the room, and laughed at herself, snickering as she nestled into her pillow.