Summer Beach Reads 5-Book Bundle: Beachcombers, Heat Wave, Moon Shell Beach, Summer House, Summer Breeze (49 page)

“What did you do?” Lily asked.

“I just stood there like a big dummy, frozen. Deer in headlights. Finally, Mom stood up, dripping water, and wrapped a towel around her and got out of the tub. She hugged me really tight for a long time. She said, ‘It’s okay, Abbie. You go on back to bed. You have school tomorrow. I’ll be fine. I’m going to go to sleep, too.’ But I still couldn’t move. I’d forgotten this—I was turned to stone. I couldn’t even speak. I was fifteen. I knew I should do something. And I was embarrassed that Mom was naked, her towel kept falling off her. And she kept making these big fake smiles and telling me everything was fine.”

“So what happened? Did Dad come home?”

“Not then. Later. Mom finally dried off, and pulled on a nightgown and took my hand and said, ‘Come on, honeybun, let’s get in bed together and cuddle up like we did when you were little. I’ll scratch your back like I used to.’ So somehow I could move and we lay in bed together for a long time. I didn’t fall asleep. Mom didn’t, either, I could tell by her breathing. But she was calm. Then Dad came home, and I went to my bedroom and fell asleep.”

Lily said, “That’s awful, Abbie.” She drank some champagne as she sorted her thoughts. “I’ve been so jealous of you—and Emma—because you got to have more of Mom than I did. Years and years more. But you got the hard stuff, too. I never thought of it that way.”

Emma’s voice was low and husky. “Remember, a few weeks before she died, how we woke up one morning with her jewelry on our pillows next to us?”

“Oh, I remember that!” Lily cried. “I was so excited. I’d always wanted her amethyst bracelet. I put it on right away.” She sobered quickly. “It never occurred to me that she was giving us her jewelry because she was planning to … not use it anymore.”

“You were seven,” Emma reminded her. “But I was thirteen, and I thought it was just creepy.”

“Dad should have gotten her into a hospital that day,” Lily said.

“It’s not Dad’s fault,” Emma protested.

“I’m not saying it was,” Lily began.

“Dad tried so hard to get her to check herself in for long-term treatment, but she wouldn’t even hear of it.”

“Okay,” Abbie straightened up and her take-charge voice returned. “I think the three of us need to make a pact. We need to keep in touch with one another, wherever we are, and if one of us starts showing signs of serious depression, we’ll fight and kick and scream until we get help.”

“That’s a good idea,” Lily said, “but how do we judge a serious depression? When Emma came home this summer, she was flat out in bed for days.”

“And you emailed me, and I came home,” Abbie reminded her. “But really, that was a situational thing.”

“I think we’ll need to talk to our husbands or roommates or whoever is living with us at the time,” Emma suggested.

Abbie said, “Right. Like when you marry Spencer, he should know to call me and Lily and we can figure it out together.”

“But if I tell Jason I might have crazy genes, maybe he won’t marry me!” Lily wailed, distraught.

“Oh, come on,” Emma chided. “Jason is wild about you.”

“Still, you should mention it to him,” Abbie said. “Anyway, it won’t be a huge surprise to him. Everyone in town knew that Mom was eccentric.”

The sky and ocean were dimming into a luminous field of gray. The wind was rising, playing with the corners of the blanket.

Lily shivered. “I’m getting chilled.”

“Okay,” Abbie said. “One more memory each, and then we’ll go.”

“I remember how much she loved summer,” Emma said. “Practically the moment the snow stopped, she’d be outside stringing up the shell lights around the deck and setting up the deck chairs. She’d go swimming every day. She just lived in her bathing suits with a shirt of Dad’s buttoned over them.”

“She loved Christmas, too,” Abbie said. “She’d blast Christmas music all over the house and make fifteen different kinds of Christmas cookies and a
bûche de Noël
and she always bought the biggest tree she could find.”

“And she put three angels on top of the tree.” Lily choked up as she spoke. “She always said we were her three angels, so she had to have three angels on the tree.”

“I’d forgotten that.” Abbie was growing teary too. “It was a cool idea, but it always looked kind of odd.”

Emma raised her glass. “Here’s to the memory of Danielle Fox.”

The sisters touched glasses and downed the last swallow of champagne.

For a few moments they were silent, lost in their own private thoughts.

“Okay.” Abbie wrapped her glass in a paper towel and laid it in the basket. “Let’s go.”

As they shook the sand off the blanket and folded it into a neat rectangle, Lily asked, “Do you ever think that maybe Mom’s really out there? Somewhere? That she can see us?”

Emma chuckled. “It’s a nice thought, Lily, but there are times when I wouldn’t want Mom to be watching me.”

Abbie swirled her toes in the sand. “Remember the things Mom said when she brought us beachcombing? She told us to always believe in something
more.
She told us to look at what was right in front of us, and we’d see that even a grain of sand was a miracle. That even a bit of glass was a message, that the universe was full of tricks and clues and signs.”

They gazed out at the water in silence for a moment. The sun was low, lighting the tips of the waves with points of light.

“Come on,” Emma said.

They slogged up the steep sand dune, carrying the basket and blanket.

Lily said, “But do you, Abbie? Believe in something else?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Lily. I guess in my head I think it’s not possible, but in my heart I want it to be true. So I guess I believe, in a vague kind of way.” Abbie turned to look out at the sea one more time.

Something flashed in the water. Something like a gleam of skin. She gasped.

“What, Abbie?” Lily stopped and turned, too.

“Oh, nothing,” Abbie decided. “It was just a trick of the light.”

It had been a gamble, and as the wedding day approached, the suspense was nerve-racking for everyone. Jim checked the weather on his iPhone every hour and still went outside and stared up at the sky. They had rented the house on the beach so the bride and her bridesmaids could have a place to dress, and they were prepared, if necessary, to hold the ceremony inside. Marina and the girls had decorated the expansive downstairs living room with shell lights and had buckets of flowers waiting, just in case.

But the April day dawned clear, bright, and unseasonably warm. It was a gift of a day, and the wedding party were elated, as if the day was a message from nature, and who, Abbie insisted, could say that it wasn’t?

Earlier, Jim and Howell and Spencer and Jason drove their four-wheel drives onto the sand and set up rows of handsome white folding chairs borrowed from the yacht club in a semicircle, facing the ocean. Abbie and Lily created a low altar out of driftwood and set buckets of pink tulips and yellow daffodils on either side. The boardwalk from the house came right down to the beach through the beach grass, and they set vases of flowers here and there along the way.

Now cars and trucks were arriving, parking along the side roads, and the wedding guests in all their bright colors made their way, in
sandals or barefoot, over the sand to the chairs. Inside, on the second floor, the bride slipped into her gown. The guitarist was still playing softly, and the notes of “The Water Is Wide” drifted up to the house.

On the first floor, Abbie gathered her skirt with both hands and knelt down next to Harry.

“You can do it, Harry,” she assured him. “Just like last night at the rehearsal.”

Harry twisted one foot around the other leg and looked miserable. It wasn’t his navy blazer and tie making him unhappy. He actually thought it was cool to wear such grown-up clothing, especially since he was also barefoot. He was just having an extreme fit of shyness.

Abbie took a deep breath and looked questioningly up at Howell.

“We’ll all be right there with you at the front, buddy,” Howell assured him.

Harry squirmed. “Too many people.”

It was understandable. Last night the beach had not been crowded with what seemed like half of Nantucket Island. Now all the folding chairs were filled, and waves of conversation and laughter drifted toward them.

“I have an idea,” Abbie said. “What if Bill walked with you?”

Harry’s eyes lit up. “Yeah! That would be cool.”

Howell shook his head. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. He’s only a puppy.”

“But Bill is so calm,” Abbie reminded him.

“Should I ask Marina or Jim?” Howell wondered. “They might think it’s too, oh, I don’t know, daffy.”

“Sure.” Abbie took Harry’s hand. “You double-check with them. Harry and I will go get Bill.”

She and Howell had gotten the puppy for Harry for Christmas. They thought it might help the little boy feel older, more responsible, if he had an animal to care for, and the mixed-breed orphan from the MSPCA had turned out to be a perfect fit for their newly evolving family. Harry had named the dog Bill. He was a placid, good-natured, unexcitable little animal with black-and-white markings and one floppy ear. He always looked content, even amused, by
his small doggy life. When Harry came to Nantucket for his time with Howell, he was allowed to have Bill sleep in bed with him. Boy and dog had become best friends.

Howell’s new Jeep was parked in the drive. Bill was curled up on the front seat, sleeping, and when Abbie opened the door, the little dog cocked his head.

“Come on, Billy Boy,” Abbie said. “You’re going to walk down the aisle.”

She fastened the leash on the dog’s collar and handed the leash to Harry. Then, with a laugh, she said, “Wait, Harry.” Kneeling down, she took one of the white magnolia blossoms from her hair and fastened it carefully to the top of Bill’s collar.

“Perfect!” she said.

She held Harry’s hand as they walked back up the path to the house. Now she could see the wedding party gathering on the deck overlooking the beach.

Emma leaned on Spencer as he ushered her out to the deck. He looked splendid in a tux, while Emma looked, well,
impressive
, in the sky-blue chiffon gown they’d had to alter to fit her enormous girth.

“I’m waddling,” she said.

He gave her waist a squeeze. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”

She laughed. “You know, I sort of think that’s true. And you’ve never looked more handsome.”

Emma knew Spencer’s mother was gale-force wind with fury because Emma was pregnant and they weren’t yet married, but Millicent didn’t seem bothered. After all, when, in November, they had planned their wedding for the summer, they hadn’t known that Emma was pregnant, due in May.

Emma and Spencer had tried to convince Sandra to come to this wedding. Soon they would all be part of one big family, they reminded her, but Sandra was enjoying her ire too much and refused to attend. But Millicent was here. Spencer had brought her to the beach himself, and settled her in one of the front rows, next to Sheila Lester and her husband. Millicent had attired herself quite
regally for the wedding, in a silver wool suit and a silver wide-brimmed hat trimmed with feathers and rhinestones and pearls.

Emma and Spencer were living in the big house with Millicent for the next few months. The baby would be born in the hospital, but it was reassuring, having a home health nurse around at night, and during the day when Spencer was working. Emma was working part-time for the historical association, helping Millicent unearth, sort through, and catalog her enormous collection of Nantucket arts and crafts which, when organized (for tax purposes, to assuage Sandra), Millicent would give to the historical association. Emma still read to Millicent during most afternoons. Sometimes she read from contemporary books about pregnancy, which made Millicent bark with laughter.

“Gosh,” Spencer said now. “Look. I think Bill’s going to take part in the wedding.”

Emma laughed. “I love our crazy family,” she said.

Lily checked her reflection one last time in the mirror. Marina had wanted her bridesmaids to wear sea colors. Abbie’s gown was almost indigo blue, Emma’s was sky blue, and Lily’s was turquoise. Lily thought her color was hands down the most stunning. She wore the dangling turquoise earrings Eartha had given her, and she’d had Jason take lots of photos with his digital camera so she could email pictures to Eartha to show her just how fabulous she looked. Eartha was invited to the wedding, of course, but she was still down in Sarasota, visiting friends. She didn’t want to come up to the island until July, when the social season really got under way.

With a final smile of approval at herself in the mirror, Lily turned, lifted her gown in her hands, and stepped out onto the deck. She felt like Cinderella as she went down the steps, there
was
something about holding her skirt up that made her feel royal, princessy.

Jason was waiting for her on the deck, looking like a movie star in his tux. She was quite aware of the looks other women gave him, the way even some of her
friends
invented problems with their houses and begged him to come over to help them. Some of the women were even married—but most of them weren’t. Lily knew she was going to have to stop stalling and make a decision. Jason
wouldn’t wait forever. He’d enjoyed their two weeks in Paris, but he was an island guy, the island was in his blood and bones and heart and soul. Jason would never leave the island, not even for Lily.