Chapter Seven
B rooke never arrived at Jessa’s house. She made it as far as the driver’s seat before she was waylaid by her grandmother, still dressed as a banana. “Is that man gone?” Nana asked too loudly.
“You mean Gates, Nana? The one you invited here?”
Nana shooed the words from Brooke’s mouth like they were flies. “I don’t want to talk about him. Tell me more about that Daugherty boy.”
Brooke climbed out of the car and opened the door to the passenger seat, pulling a pile of clothes and shoes from it and placing them on the ground. “Get in.” Nana’s long yellow costume had to be stuffed around her legs in order to close the door. “How did you know his middle name?” Brooke asked.
“You first.”
“Age before beauty, Nana.”
“Well, I am a fresh, unrotten banana, so you have to go first. And I want to know everything. I want details . Did you kiss him?” Nana reached her small hand from a hole in the polyfoam fabric and found Brooke’s.
“Nana! That’s private.”
“If there is any person in the world who has heard everything, it is a grandmother. You cannot shock me. You kissed him, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but…”
“I knew it! Oh, goodie, goodie gumdrops. Tell me all about it.”
“Nana!”
“I promise I will not tell Cornelia.”
“If I tell you, will you tell me how you knew his middle name?”
“Yes,” Nana said. “But you’d better make it good.” Nana leaned back and closed her eyes.
Brooke stared into the darkness as she gathered her thoughts. “We were all on the dock by the swimming hole where they projected The Martian onto an old sheet. The two of us had earned that movie for our team because we found one of the hidden ducks.”
“Stop right there,” Nana said. “You can do better than that. I want to know the details. I want to feel like I was there.”
Brooke had no trouble remembering. “The cicadas were just as loud as they are now. The higher the moon rose, the louder they sang. It was sticky, because it was summertime, but I didn’t care one bit. I was so nervous, I was afraid to speak. It was like my brain had closed a door and locked my tongue inside with it. Nate didn’t say anything either.” Just talking about those nerves caused her stomach to burn. “But then he put his arm around me and I let him.”
“Tell me you were still in your bathing suit. That’s the best part about summertime, waking up in your swimsuit with salty hair and a sunburn.” Nana murmured like she, too, was remembering a story about a young version of herself.
“No, that would be Jessa, running around in her purple one-piece, playing games with the teams that didn’t win the movie.” Nana’s hand was cold in hers and Brooke was surprised that she could hardly wait to tell her, in detail, what it was like to have the side of her body cuddled up next to a boy. “It took almost the whole movie for me to get brave enough, but I finally put my head on his shoulder.”
Nana’s eyes popped open. “And then he kissed you? Tell me all of it.”
“He turned his head so that we were cheek to cheek.”
She leaned forward. “And you didn’t move, right? Let me see.” Tilting her head to the left, she put it on Brooke’s shoulder. “Now, what’d he do?”
“He moved his head down like this.” Brooke demonstrated quickly, her cheek briefly on her grandmother’s.
“What a sly little devil he was. Got those lips of his mighty close.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Brooke giggled awkwardly. “This feels weird, Nana.”
Nana pressed down her costume so she could sit up straight. “Hush with that and tell me more.”
“He said, ‘I think you’re pretty.’” Brooke hesitated. “And, you know what, Nan? That might have been the first time in my whole life that I actually did feel pretty.”
Nana patted Brooke’s hand in a way that meant keep going .
“Well, we both brought our noses together and stopped when there was just an inch between us. I remember it so clearly: his breath was shallow, coming in small puffs. I kept thinking he was kissing me already, that his lips were pressed to mine, but it hadn’t happened yet.”
Nana’s breath was much like Nate’s had been. She was barely breathing. “And—”
“When I lifted my eyes, he was looking right at me. I’m pretty sure my heart stopped. I just knew that my life was never going to be the same again.”
“This is just like Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr in An Affair to Remember . The kiss was off-screen, but I could see it just the same.”
Brooke softly giggled. “His lips were soft and warm and a little shaky.”
Nana squealed and squeezed Brooke’s hand. “What’d you do?”
“I just held still. I didn’t know if I was supposed to pucker or not. He pulled away, then kissed me again. That time, I kissed him back.”
Nana let go and placed her hands flat on her peel, somewhere near her heart. “Oh, my word. That was better than a romance novel.”
“Yeah, and then Gates ruined it all when he yelled, ‘Spartans! Prepare for battle!’ and came running down the hill, holding a stick like it was a sword. Half of my team jumped into the water, and the others ran toward the woods.”
“And what did you and that darling Daugherty boy do?”
“We stayed there. He blocked me with his body and shielded me with his arms. Gates and his team ran around us to the movie screen—which they pulled down and carried up the hill like a trophy. But no one bothered us.”
“I declare. That boy sounds just like Caleb.”
“Who’s Caleb?”
“Forget I said anything. Did he kiss you again?”
“No, Jessa twisted her ankle, and Gates commanded me to take care of her. Which was strange, because back in those camp days, he never spoke to me. Anyway, it was time for lights-out pretty soon after that.”
“You certainly are a lucky girl, aren’t you, Anna Brooke?” Nana found Brooke’s hand again and patted it lightly.
“I’m not so lucky anymore.”
“Oh, yes you are. Isn’t it curious, though? I have no desire to hear about your kisses with Gates.”
“You know what, Nana? I don’t feel much like talking about them either.”
After almost a full half hour of Nana refusing to tell Brooke who Caleb was or how she knew Nathan’s middle name despite the fact that she’d promised, Brooke finally let her out of the car. Then she canceled on Jessa. As always, Jessa didn’t seem to mind at all. When Brooke finally slept, she had the most vivid dream. She was kissing Nate underneath the little arched bridge that crossed the dry creek. She was happy—the kind of happy that comes from security, hope, and a bright future. Above her head was a little duck, hidden in a corner of the trestle. It didn’t have a number, and it wasn’t yellow. It was dirty and white and there was something strange about it. But she’d found it, and it was important.
Nana wasn’t at breakfast the next morning. She’d probably stayed up late into the night dancing to big band music and twirling around her cottage. Gates wasn’t there either, which was fine with Brooke. She kissed Trig and Cornelia, grabbed a muffin, and hopped into her car. Gates’s blacked-out BMW sat in the driveway next to her little white Audi. It felt like a metaphor—he was a sleek designer car. She, too, was a designer car, only she’d had a fender bender and currently housed a used set of towels, twelve unread books, a stack of sweaters, an entire floral bed set, and a toaster that spilled old bread crumbs inside the trunk.
There was no use driving off the island to find a coffee shop, so she went to Fred’s gas station and browsed the small space. He had everything from white diatomaceous clay in little baggies from a local woman who sold it as a parasite cleanse, to original artwork, candy bars, fresh fruit, and fine wine. She hugged Fred and bought a small latte and a freshly baked honey bun.
When she arrived at the Saltwater Winery, Jessa had just let out the chickens.
“Hey, Jess.”
Jessa jumped and turned as elegantly as an ice skater. “You scared me! I didn’t know you were comin’ in early.” The chickens actively clucked and scratched all around her.
“Do you remember that year in camp when my team won the movie night?”
“I don’t know. That was a long time ago.” She picked up a white Silkie chicken and petted its soft, feathery head.
“The night you twisted your ankle. It was my first kiss, and we stayed up all night talking.”
“Nate Daugherty,” Jessa said simply. “Right. What do you think ever happened to him?” Brooke ignored the whistling coming down the road until it was so close that it registered as familiar. “Nana?”
“Coming!” Nana yelled like a schoolgirl, waltzing up the drive by the winery entrance sign. She wore a long black sequined dress and white tennis shoes. She’d drawn on her eyebrows, but her white hair stood straight up like she was trying to be a 1980s punk rocker.
Brooke ran to meet her. “Nan, did you walk the whole way again?”
“The question is, why didn’t you walk?” Nana asked, increasing her pace. “Four miles is nothing. I was an athlete, you know. A synchronized swimmer. Still have my swimming cap somewhere if your mother didn’t throw it away.”
“Why are you here? Don’t you have something to do today?”
Nana smirked. “I work here.”
“No, Nan. No, you don’t.”
“I have decided that I do.” She kept on walking, right past Brooke.
This was going to be a disaster. Duke Bradley was not going to react well to Brooke’s eighty-year-old grandmother taking over the joint.
“Nan, please.” Brooke ran after her. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Anna Brooke, calm your squirrels.” She stopped with her hands on her hips, sparkling in her stubbornness. “You will introduce me to our boss, you hear me? You will do it now.”
That was it. Brooke’s life was officially a glittering disaster.