Summer Heat
summer heat
In the summer, over the lazy span of days, there was always laundry, mostly beach towels and bath towels. Blythe enjoyed this humble task. The warmth of a towel taken from the dryer. The pile of folded towels, like a cotton rainbow.
In the kitchen, Brooks was helping Miranda pack sandwiches, small bags of chips, and a banana or pear, into the brown paper bags that each child would tuck into their backpack. They filled thermoses with cold water, exchanging sultry glances as they worked. They were in that state of romance when they would have exchanged sultry glances if they’d been digging ditches. When all lunches were made, the couple planned to walk together down to Steps Beach, with backpacks full of beach towels and food and sunblock.
Carolyn’s mom picked up Holly and took the girls to Surfside Beach. When they called, Blythe would pick them up and drive them home.
Daphne spent the mornings at Maria Mitchell and in the afternoon her friend Lincoln biked out and met her at the Madaket Beach.
Teddy played tennis with his friends at the club and often joined others to crew on a sailboat. He promised Blythe he always wore a life jacket. She didn’t press the issue. She had her spies at the club, friends who looked out for one another’s children.
It was July, and summer unrolled before them like a golden carpet.
—
One morning, Sandy called.
“Blythe, want to go to the beach today? Just us girls? I’ve got green grapes and cheese and a beach umbrella.”
“That’s a brilliant idea! I’ve got crackers, a million cold cans of fizzy fruit drinks, and caramel chip cookies.”
“I’ll drive. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“I’ll be ready. I’ve just got to put on my bathing suit.”
It was exactly what Blythe needed, she decided. Time for herself to swim and sunbathe, time to talk with her good island friend. She hurried upstairs and slipped into her Speedo, hurried downstairs and filled a cooler full of ice, drinks, and a couple of peaches. She flapped on her straw beach hat, double-checked that she had sunblock, and chose from the dozen sets of sunglasses she and the girls kept in a bowl by the front door. Her colorful beach bag, woven in Guatemala, held her small wallet with credit cards and phone. From the pile of clean beach towels in the laundry room, she collected her favorite, a long thick cotton towel striped navy blue and white.
For a moment, she felt like a young girl again.
Sandy arrived in her handsome black Toyota RAV4 and high-fived Blythe as she got into the car.
“Ain’t it grand to be alone, without any men around,” Sandy said as she drove away from the town.
“How are the girls?” Blythe asked.
“Lara’s competing in the club tennis tournament, and Anne is teaching sailing at the yacht club and sailing when she’s not working. I know they come home to sleep, and sometimes they raid the refrigerator, but mostly they’re out living their lives.”
“My lot are at the beach, too,” Blythe said.
“Okay, good. Now, talking about our families is banned for the next few hours. We’re solo for a while.”
At Dionis, they lugged their gear out to the beach and found a nice empty space. The day was perfect, hot and clear, with only an occasional breeze. The shoreline was spotted with other people, swimming, sitting in beach chairs, lying on blankets to tan.
“Let’s deal with this later,” Sandy suggested, dropping her beach bag and umbrella onto the sand.
“Great!” Blythe anchored the blanket to the sand with her cooler and joined Sandy as she raced into the water.
They both screamed, “It’s cold!”
Sandy was content to paddle and float near the shore. Blythe was not a strong swimmer, but she loved floating, with her eyes closed and sounds muted by the water. It took her a few moments to surrender, but soon she was relaxed, supported completely by the transparent magic of what she could not hold or control, the sea.
Later, they dried off and ate lunch beneath the beach umbrella. They talked about books, television shows, clothes, food.
Blythe took a deep breath. “Sandy, I want to ask your advice about something.”
“I’m all ears,” Sandy said. She took another long pull of cold water and stuffed the empty bottle into her backpack. “Go.”
Nervously, Blythe folded her paper napkin into smaller and smaller squares. Finally she met Sandy’s eyes and blurted, “Just before we came to Nantucket, my friend Jill and I were shopping at Copley Place in Boston. We accidentally spotted a couple right there in the mall, crushed up together, kissing passionately. They were kind of tucked into a corner, but we could see through the shop windows. Jill and I both watched them and we realized the woman was Teri. Bob’s girlfriend. We didn’t know who the man was. But we were both certain it was Teri.”
Sandy frowned. “That’s bizarre. I’m not Teri’s biggest fan, but I can’t believe she’d be kissing another man out in public.”
“I know. I agree. But I can’t stop wondering about it. I’m thinking I should talk to her, alone. Just to hear her deny that was her.”
“Why would you believe what she said?” Sandy asked.
Blythe sighed. “That’s a good point.”
“Did you take a photo?”
“What? No!” Blythe slapped her hand to her forehead. “So stupid! I didn’t even think of it! My phone was in my purse. Damn!”
“I think you should confront her.”
Blythe shook her head, unsure.
After a while, Sandy asked, “Could you tell Celeste? Maybe she could confront Teri.”
“I don’t think so. It would only confuse her as much as it confuses me.” Blythe yawned. “The heat is making me drowsy.”
They lay face down on their beach blankets, and for a while they were quiet, enjoying the sun on their backs.
A beach volleyball landed next to Sandy’s head. Two boys raced up, apologizing, spraying sand as they picked up the ball and ran off.
Sandy sat up and drank from her water bottle. “I don’t think I have any kind of solution.”
Blythe sat up, too. She shrugged. “I don’t, either. I have to let it go.”
“You have really let Bob go, haven’t you?” Sandy asked.
Blythe brushed sand from her arms. “I have. I think we’re doing all right with the children. It helps them a lot to be able to come here for summer and the holidays. And thank heavens I’m still friends with Celeste. She means so much to me. I think she loves me, too.”
“And what about men?” Sandy asked.
“What about them?” Blythe couldn’t talk about Aaden yet.
“Well, what about Nick? He likes you, Blythe. I can tell.”
“I like him. A lot. It’s kind of terrifying.”
Sandy grinned. “Good. Keep me informed and let me know if I can help.”
They swam again, and finally gathered up their beach bags and went home.
Blythe took a long shower, admired her new tan, and pulled on a loose turquoise caftan. She coiled her hair into a messy twist, fastening it with a claw clip. She settled on the living room sofa. She’d had enough sun for one day. She picked up her book. It was compelling, exciting, but suddenly laughter interrupted her mood. Pipes groaned and water exploded as the outdoor shower was turned on. It was right at the corner of the house, hidden by flowering bushes, and the only way anyone could see who was in the shower would be to go into the kitchen and stand on tiptoes and peer out the window.
Blythe closed her eyes. She could tell by the sounds of the voices and the laughter that two people were in the shower. Miranda and Brooks.
Okay, fine. They were both seventeen, or almost. She trusted them not to have sex in the outdoor shower where anyone could hear them.
My God. Sex in the outdoor shower. Had she and Bob ever had sex there? A person would have to be as supple as an octopus even to tryit.
She checked her watch. It was five-thirty. Time for a little vodka tonic. She put her book down, entered the kitchen, and found a fresh lime. Just as she had it on the cutting board, her phone trilled.
The caller ID showed that it was Hilda Tillingham calling.
“Hello, Hilda, how are you?”
“Hello, Blythe, we are fine, thank you. How is Brooks behaving himself?”
Hilda’s speech was always slightly unusual, but why wouldn’t it be, when the woman spoke at least seven languages.
“Brooks is perfect. We’re enjoying him so much. We—”
“I am glad. Blythe, I have an enormous favor to ask. Max and I need to be at a conference in Zurich and then a trade meeting in Rome. We’ll be away from home for at least another month. Maybe even a few days longer. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Jones, fell and broke her leg. She won’t be able to walk until September at the earliest. So you see, we would have to let Brooks return to an empty home. Do you think it would be possible for him to stay with you for a few more weeks? We can always reserve a hotel room for him so he can remain on the island.”
Blythe didn’t think twice. “Oh, really, we would enjoy having Brooks stay with us. We have plenty of room, and he fits right in with our family.” Why was Blythe so receptive to this idea? It wasn’t simply that Brooks made Miranda happier. Part of it was that it was nice to have another male around. Only yesterday, she’d seen Brooks throwing the Frisbee with Teddy in the backyard.
“You’re so kind. We will send you some money to help pay for his food. He eats like a starved bear.”
“Please don’t send money. We’re fine, really. Maybe Brooks would like some spending money—”
“Brooks has his own money and a charge card. Thank you, Blythe. This is extremely kind. We are very thankful. Give Brooks our love.”
Before Blythe could respond, Hilda Tillingham clicked off.
Well. Blythe’s thoughts went in all directions. Miranda would be thrilled to know Brooks would be here all summer, but Blythe had learned that it was good for her children to have some kind of routine, even if only an hour a week. She would have to sign Brooks up for a sailing program, or maybe tennis. And really, Miranda should get some kind of job.
Blythe forced herself back to the here and now. A lime, sliced and fragrant, lay on the cutting board. Oh, yes, she was going to have an icy vodka tonic.
She was just settled on the back porch when her phone pinged.
A text from Aaden.
Oh, Blythe, how you like to tease me. The photos you’ve sent with you and your children make me long to be with you. I know you would worry about how your children will fare when you visit Ireland, but remember you could always fly home anytime. I’m dealing with a major crisis at Awen, so I don’t know when I’ll be back to Boston. I really need to see you.
He had attached a photo of himself wearing the high school letter jacket taken years ago, when they were in high school. And another photo taken of Blythe wearing the jacket, which was huge and fell almost to her knees. Aaden was standing by her, his hand on her shoulder. They were both smiling.
And another photo was attached, of Aaden now, grown and handsome, wearing that same high school letter jacket. He’d captioned the photo: It still fits .
Blythe allowed herself a moment to sink into the pleasure of memory. They had belonged to each other back then. They’d believed the world lay open to them, a smooth path through countless happy days. They’d believed their young love was eternal.
She straightened her shoulders. It was not the same now. It could never be the same. But Aaden had an apartment in Boston. He had to be there, sometimes, for business. That made a relationship seem possible.
But was that what she wanted?
Her desire for Nick was real and important. Did that mean it would be long-lasting? They hadn’t talked about a long-term relationship, and they hadn’t known each other for more than a few weeks. She wasn’t sure she could trust her own instincts right now. She’d been living a perfectly happy divorced life with her children, and soon she’d begin teaching. Was this the right time to even think of having a long-term relationship? She trusted Nick, but they were too old to go steady, which she wasn’t certain was even a thing now. Aaden was exciting, but she had to remember he’d left her before.
And, when she was honest with herself, she knew all this was way out of her comfort zone.
She tied on an apron and began making stir-fry chicken. She was putting together sliced fresh fruit for dessert when Daphne burst through the front door.
“ MOM! I got to lead a group of kids on a beach walk today. By myself!”
“That’s wonderful, Daphne! Tell me about it. Which beach did you go to?”
Before Daphne could answer, Holly and Carolyn came in.
“ MOM! ” Holly waved a book in the air. “Guess what ? Carolyn and I found two copies of Shipwrecked at the library! Do you think we were awful to take both copies? But now we can read it at the same time and it’s the third in Mary Alice Monroe’s Islanders series and they have a boat.”
“I think it’s fine that you both checked out the same book,” Blythe said, but before she could say more, Teddy rushed in.
“ MOM! Azey and I took the bus home and I’m starving! When do we eat?” Teddy clearly had been swimming all day. His hair was so coated with salt it stuck out all over his head like a porcupine’s.
“It’s almost ready. Take a quick shower first. Here—have a carrot.”
Teddy groaned and slumped away.
“ MOM! ” Miranda and Brooks strolled in from the family room where they’d been playing Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, a popular video game for Miranda’s age group and one Blythe disliked. She’d given in to her oldest daughter’s pleas but set a limit on the time they could play each day. “Me and Brooks found a brand-new game of Zombie Kittens at the Thrift Shop and we want Serena and Riley to come over and play after dinner, okay?”
“Brooks and I,” Blythe said.
“You don’t want to play this game.” Miranda drifted into the kitchen. “Smells awesome, Mom. Here, Brooks, put the plates around. I’ll do the silverware.”
Somehow all the children and Blythe managed to get settled at the table. At the last minute, Blythe heated two heavily buttered and garlic-salted baguettes for what seemed like a crowd of children.
Blythe told Brooks about his mother’s phone call.
Brooks said, “Cool. Thanks.”
Miranda’s face lit up. “Oh, Mom, you’re the best. We’ll be very good. We’ll do our own laundry, right, Brooks?”
Brooks said, “Um.”
Miranda whispered, “I’ll show you how.”
All these children, Blythe thought. The younger ones were truly stuffing their faces, as if they hadn’t eaten for days. Daphne continued to explain the beach tour: clamshell, skate’s egg case, and seaweed. Blythe listened, nodding, agreeing with anything Daphne said, because her second daughter knew much more about the beach life than Blythe ever would.
But Blythe knew more about human life. Children’s lives. This was her specialty, and now as she sat at the table, she had one of those sudden moments of grace, when she was amazed and humbled by all the healthy, tanned, energetic, mysterious life around her. How lucky she was. She had all she needed right here.
Later that night, after everyone else was in bed, Blythe wrote a brief note to Aaden.
Aaden, You look wonderful in that high school photo and you look wonderful now. Please give me time to think things through.
Love, Blythe