“That’s original,” Gabi said drolly. “I’ll give you two guesses what my answer is.”
“But it’s so refreshing. Feel.” Zoey bent beside the nearby tidal pool and tossed a scoop of water at her niece, lightly spraying the side of her head, arm and leg.
“Aunt Zoey—quit it!” Gabi kicked water back at Zoey, splattering her with wet sand, too. When Zoey retaliated, Gabi shrieked, “No, don’t! I’ve got my laptop in my book bag. It’ll get ruined.”
Brushing the sand off her T-shirt, Zoey said, “I might as well go in now. It’s easier just to rinse off.”
“You’re wearing a suit under your clothes?”
“Yes, my birthday suit.”
“Aunt Zoey, you wouldn’t!”
Actually, she would have. And she had, on various occasions. But not at a public beach and not when the tide was so far out that she’d have to run naked for a hundred yards before she could fully immerse herself. “No, I won’t. But I’ve got a sports bra on. With my underwear, it’ll look like I’m wearing a two-piece suit.”
What if a park ranger sees you? You’re going to get a ticket.”
Zoey was already stripping her leggings off but she decided to leave her T-shirt on since she had to get the sand off it anyway. “Why? This covers more than what most people wear to the beach.”
Gabi kept marching, calling over her shoulder, “I’m going home.”
Whose daughter are you, anyway? Zoey thought but she was glad she had the presence of mind to censor herself. Whenever Jessica wanted to go swimming or bodysurfing, she’d never let a little thing like the lack of a swimsuit stop her.
Zoey waded in as deep as her waist. She stretched her arms out to the side and rested her palms on the water as if it were glass. Her eyes fixed on the horizon, she savored the stillness of the moment as her body adjusted to the chilly water. Then, on the count of three, she took a deep breath and dove in. Her sister once said that coming up from the first plunge of the season was like being born. Zoey understood what she’d meant; she felt newer, if not younger, when she surfaced.
“Wah-hoo!” she shouted at the sky as she stood, tipped her head and slicked back her hair.
She took a few more steps, dove again, and kept swimming, submerged, until she ran out of breath. Then she rolled onto her back and floated, her eyes closed as she let her mind wander to her sister’s last trip to Dune Island six years ago, when Gabi was eight. The doctor had cautioned Jess about going in the water—something about marine illness or infection and her having a compromised immune system. But she had wanted to take one last look at the bay from her favorite vantage point, a secluded little spot between two low dunes overgrown with roses and honeysuckle, about half a mile south of Rose Beach.
Jess had been so weak she’d barely walked a fraction of the distance before she needed to rest. Scott had wanted to turn around but Jessica said she wasn’t leaving until she saw what she’d come to see. So Zoey had unfolded the beach chair she’d brought for her sister and as the adults waited until Jessica felt strong enough to keep going, Gabi searched the high-tide line nearby for beach glass and other treasures. When Jessica was ready, Scott picked up the cooler with one hand and supported his wife with his opposite arm, while Gabi ran up ahead and Zoey trailed behind, carrying the chair, towels and a beach blanket. The foursome would continue their expedition until Jess got tired again and then they’d stop and repeat the process.
When they’d finally reached their destination, Jessica put the seat of her chair into a reclining position and within a few minutes she had closed her eyes, although she wasn’t sleeping. Scott had been incredulous that after insisting she needed to see the view, she barely looked at it. But Zoey had understood; her sister was breathing it all in. Memorizing it, just like she did every summer when it was almost time to leave Dune Island.
Even though it was May at the time, it had been unseasonably humid and eventually Jessica announced she was going to wade into the water to cool off.
“Dr. Freedman said you shouldn’t,” her husband had lectured. “It’s dangerous. Your skin is cracked. You could come into contact with algae or bacteria and get an infection.”
“Yeah, but I’m dying to go in.” Jessica had giggled at her own glibly dark humor, but Scott stormed off, calling for Gabi to accompany him down the beach. Jessica had turned to her sister. “Could you give me a hand?”
“You sure about this?”
“I’m positive. It’s hot out and I’m getting uncomfortable.”
So Zoey had helped her up from the chair and held her steady while she took off her jeans. By then, Jess was so skinny she didn’t even need to unzip them; one tug and they slid down her legs. And when Zoey had wrapped her arm around her sister’s waist to support her as they walked, she could feel her sharp hip bone beneath the fabric of her over-sized shirt.
The tide had been only halfway in, so they’d treaded across the flats and passed through several shin-deep tidal pools before they entered the actual surf. Even then, it took a while for them to wade deep enough for the water to reach their midriffs. The bay had been calm that day, but its tiny swells made Jessica teeter as they lapped against her stomach. And yet, after a few moments, she’d said, “You can let go now. I want to go under.”
“No, Jess. It’s too cold. It’ll be too much of a shock your system and—”
“Zoey, let me go. I’ll be fine.”
“I won’t be.” Zoey had begun sobbing because by then everything seemed like a metaphor for her sister’s death.
Fearless to the very end, Jessica had threatened, “Don’t you dare ruin this for me. Stop bawling and let go. Now.”
So Zoey had released her and Jessica pitched herself forward, disappearing beneath the water for what seemed like an eternity. Zoey held her breath until her sister’s head popped up some thirty feet farther out. Gasping and blinking, Jessica looked stunned when she turned to face her.
Zoey rushed forward, running through the water instead of swimming. “Are you okay?”
“I’m alive!” her sister had shouted—or she tried to, her voice was more of a squawk—and raised one hand over her head, exultant.
When Zoey dove toward her, she kept her eyes open so if Jessica told her to stop bawling again, she could say her tears were from the salt water. When she swam within sight of her sister’s bright, skinny legs, she had emerged and declared, “I’m alive, too!”
“You are such a copycat.” Jessica flicked a few droplets at her, clearly trying to keep the mood light. “Just like when we were kids.”
“That’s because I’ve always admired you. I—”
“Knock it off, Zo. It’s not time for my eulogy yet.” Jessica’s no-nonsense tone indicated she meant business.
Zoey wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, which made them sting even worse. “Did you know—”
“I mean it. Not another word.”
“Stop being so bossy. And so vain. I wasn’t going to say any more nice things about you,” Zoey retorted. “I was only going to ask if you knew you lost your headscarf when you went under.”
Jessica reflexively patted her skull. “Something felt different but I thought I was just lightheaded from holding my breath.”
“It came off over there. I’ll go find it.”
“No, don’t. I hate that thing.”
“But your scalp might get sunburned.”
“Good. I’ve always wanted to be a redhead. Come on, let’s float.”
Jessica had gingerly lain back on the water as if onto a bed, but she was all bones, no body fat, and she immediately began to sink. This, too, struck her as funny, but Zoey had to force a laugh as she took her arm and they began their long trek back. Every few yards, Jessica would pause and Zoey couldn’t tell whether she was winded or if she didn’t want to get out yet.
When they’d made it to where the water was knee-deep, Jessica pointed to her husband and daughter down the beach. “He’s really going to be lost.”
Even though Scott had a notoriously poor sense of direction, Zoey doubted it was possible he’d lose his way back. “All he has to do is follow the shoreline. Or follow Gabi.”
“No. He’s not going to get lost. He’s going to be lost. When I die.”
“Now you knock it off,” Zoey rasped.
“Wait, you have to hear me out on this. Scott is… he’s the love of my life. Everything I could have hoped to have in a husband. But I know his faults. His weaknesses. He’s going to be an absolute disaster when I’m gone. I’m not asking you to take care of him or to set him straight or anything like that. I’m only telling you what to expect, so you’ll cut him a little slack when he screws up or does something stupid… like marrying someone I’d detest.” Jessica had laughed but Zoey couldn’t even fake a smile. Her sister’s voice was wheezy as she continued, “I’m only kidding. I want him to be happy and I think he’s better off married than on his own. The most important thing is that he always puts our daughter’s well-being first. That’s what matters to me more than anything else. Understand?”
Zoey had understood. Jessica meant she could accept Scott remarrying as long as his new wife was a good stepmom for Gabi. She’d nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“Scott’s the love of my life, but Gabi, Gabi’s my heart. And I know I don’t even need to ask you to remind her how much I love her. Or to tell her what I was like. I already know you’ll do that. Just like I know she’ll always be able to turn to you if…”
Jessica couldn’t finish her sentence because her teeth were knocking together and Zoey had noticed her lips were bluish. She let go of her waist and hugged her shivering upper torso sideways with both arms, trying to warm her.
“Of course she will, Jess,” she had whispered into her sister’s ear. “But don’t talk about that right now. Concentrate on walking. Only a little farther and we’ll be out of the water. Then you can sit down and I’ll run and get you a towel.”
She tried to sound confident but inside she was panicking. If her sister had hypothermia, Zoey would never forgive herself. Scott wouldn’t forgive her, either.
They barely made it to dry ground when Zoey noticed Scott and Gabi were also heading back from the opposite direction. She beckoned him, yelling, “Jess is freezing!”
Scott broke into a sprint toward where they’d left their things spread on the beach. Shouting at Gabi to stay put, he grabbed the blanket instead of a towel and raced across the sand faster than she’d ever seen him move. When he reached them, he peeled off his T-shirt and replaced Jessica’s with his before cocooning her in the blanket and gathering her to his chest. Zoey expected him to be livid but instead he hummed and softly caressed his wife’s back, as if they were slow-dancing to their favorite song.
After a few minutes, when Jessica stopped quaking, he kissed the top of her white, baby-bald head and casually asked, “How was your swim, hon?”
“It was awesome,” she croaked, peering up at him.
“Good. I’m glad.”
Then he had picked her up and carried her back to the car. When Zoey and Gabi arrived some fifteen minutes later, the heat was blasting and the windows were rolled up. Scott had been dripping with sweat but he and Jessica were laughing about who knows what.
“Hey, Zoey…” His voice was a growl when she got into the car.
Uh-oh. Here it comes, she thought. He can’t get mad at Jess because she’s sick but he’s going to light into me for helping her go swimming. She just hoped his rant wouldn’t upset Gabi. “Yeah?”
“If I knew you were going to take so long, I would have carried the cooler myself. Pass me a sandwich, would you? I’m starving.”
He never did chew her out. And because of that—more than because of anything Jessica said about cutting him some slack—Zoey had always known she couldn’t hold it against him when he made errors in judgment, either.
Thinking about Scott now, floating in the same bay where her sister had her very last dip in the ocean she’d loved so much, she decided, When I get back to the house, I should write him a note to tell him how well Gabi is doing. At least, she hoped Gabi was doing as well as she seemed to be.
But first, Zoey dove and swam and floated until her toes and fingers were numb and goosebumps rose all over her skin. Quivering as she got out of the water and retrieved her leggings, she couldn’t imagine ever complaining about being too warm again.
The next morning Zoey woke to what she immediately recognized as the aroma of freshly baked cinnamon raisin sticky buns. Aunt Ivy is already awake and making breakfast? That could only mean one thing: Mark was coming for a visit. Maybe he was already here. Zoey wondered why her aunt hadn’t given her a heads-up.
I can’t believe he’s coming back so soon, she thought. Not that she should have been surprised; Mark had called Ivy three times during the past week, a record. The calls lasted close to half an hour on each, yet whenever Zoey happened to pass the living room, she didn’t hear her aunt saying anything other than the occasional “Mm-hm.” Clearly Mark had been doing all the talking.
One time after hanging up, Ivy told her he’d called to ask if the new stove had been delivered yet, since it hadn’t arrived according to schedule. Another time, he supposedly just wanted to see how she was doing. Zoey found that hard to swallow. She suspected Mark’s real reason for calling—and for visiting—was more self-serving. Like maybe he was still trying to persuade their aunt that she should purchase a new fridge. Or he could have been laying the groundwork to ask her for something else he wanted. I just hope he hasn’t been talking to her about moving into an assisted living facility again, Zoey thought.
She pulled on a pair of running capris and a T-shirt and stepped into the hall. Gabi’s door was open, but she wasn’t in her room so Zoey went downstairs to the kitchen, greeting her aunt as she poured herself three-fourths of a cup of coffee. Ivy and Sylvia had used the same kind of electric percolator ever since they began drinking coffee. Zoey’s dad used to complain to her mom that for being such a meek woman, Sylvia made the strongest coffee he’d ever had the misfortune to taste. Ivy had gotten used to making it that way, too, so Zoey added a generous splash of cream to her mug. It occurred to her that the only thing she really missed about her townhome was her single-serve coffee maker.
“Those buns smell delicious. I can’t believe you and Gabi are both up and at ’em earlier than I am. Did she go somewhere?”
“Yes. She went for a long walk and on the way home she’s picking up more eggs for my frittata. She’s been gone for quite some time so I expect her back any minute now.”
“Can I help with anything? Would you like me to set the table?”
“No, I’ll do that. But I’d appreciate it if you’d bring the croquet set down from the attic. After brunch, you kids might want to have a game to pass the time.”
I’ll help get breakfast ready for Mark, but I am not entertaining him until his friends are available to go to the club, Zoey thought. “Sure, I’ll bring it down, although I doubt I’ll play. When Gabi gets back, I’m going for a run and then I plan to do some research about the library in preparation for my interview. What time is Mark getting here, anyway?”
“Mark’s coming?” Ivy had been bending over to peer into the refrigerator. She stood up, a baffled look on her face. “I must have forgotten.”
Feeling sheepish that she’d made the wrong assumption, Zoey rushed to clarify. “No, you didn’t, Aunt Ivy. I just smelled the sticky buns and thought you were making them because Mark was coming for a visit.”
Relief melted the frown from Ivy’s face. “No, I’m making breakfast in commemoration of it being the last time I’ll use this oven before they haul it away.”
“The new one is being delivered today?”
“Yes. Some time between ten and twelve. That’s why Nick and Aidan are coming for brunch. They’re going to install it right away.” Ivy bent over again and removed a container of feta cheese from the shelf. She closed the fr
idge door. “I thought I mentioned it to you.”
She definitely hadn’t. “I would have remembered that.”
“Ack. I’m sorry. It must have slipped my mind.” Ivy wasn’t looking at Zoey, but her voice didn’t carry any note of the consternation that crossed her face when she thought she’d forgotten Mark was coming. “You’d better hurry and go bring the croquet set down so you’ll have time to change your clothes before breakfast.”
Now I know where Mark gets his sneakiness from! Zoey grumbled to herself, recognizing that her aunt was pushing her and Nick together. She took a sip of coffee before setting down her mug and, although she had zero desire to play croquet, headed upstairs to the attic.
Zoey had always been jumpy in the presence of insects and spiders—it was why she refused to keep the windows open unless the screens were in. But Carla vacuumed, dusted and aired out the large, rectangular attic space whenever she did a deep cleaning of Ivy’s entire house, so Zoey didn’t mind going up there. She usually only passed through to get to the widow’s walk, accessed up a ladder through a trap door in the middle of the roof, in-between the two chimneys. It wasn’t as hot today as it was during the summer, when the rising heat made it uncomfortable, but it was definitely warm, so Zoey intended to be quick.
She climbed the attic stairs, switched on the light and glanced across the empty room in the direction of the storage shelves and Sylvia’s trunks. She immediately recognized the blue linen fabric draped askew over the top of one of the trunks: the dress Marcus had bought Sylvia to wear on her wedding day. Mark must have left it there. He’s such a slob.
Unlike Ivy, Sylvia had rarely spoken about her courtship or relationship with her husband. But one rainy afternoon when Jessica and Zoey were teenagers, she’d invited them to see her wedding dress. After she removed the wasp-waisted, full-skirted frock from its garment bag, they urged her to hold it up in front of her so they could picture how she had looked in it, since the only wedding photos they’d seen were black and white. Zoey had never forgotten how Sylvia’s entire demeanor changed. With one hand clasping the fabric to her stomach, the other hand pressing it against her shoulder, she elongated her neck and held her chin high as she took a little twirl. It was so unlike her that the girls had squealed with laughter.
Aunt Ivy's Cottage: A totally gripping and emotional page turner Page 12
