Barefoot in the Sand

by Holly Chamberlin

  Chapter 63

  It was Brent’s day off and both interns were down with summer colds. Arden was alone in the shop, and that suited her just fine as it allowed her to take an appreciative stroll through the eclectic collection of titles Arden Forest offered its customers, something she never tired of doing.

  Books about art and history and fly-fishing and furniture making. Books about books and books about the people who wrote them. Books about cooking and baking and sewing. Novels and poems and essays, many in translation. Volumes that included maps of the ancient world or maps of Maine’s current coastline.

  Arden stopped and slid a book from the shelf. Popular Day Trips in Maine. She felt a bit of a frown come to her face as she remembered Laura’s having seen her grandfather’s old Cadillac on the streets of Port George. Other cars had been in the Aldridge garage at any given time, but the Cadillac had always been her father’s favorite, his and his alone. Had he, then, been the passenger the day Laura had spotted the car? The thought made Arden shudder, and she abandoned her stroll to return to the stool behind the counter, where there was paperwork to be done.

  But before she could focus on business, an image of Rob’s car, a Dodge Coronet from the 1970s, came to her mind’s eye as clearly as if the car were parked just outside the shop. The car had once belonged to a friend of Rob’s father’s. Rob used to joke that the engine was held together by string and wire coat hangers, and for all Arden knew it was, but Rob had kept the inside of the car neat and clean—no empty soda cans rolling around underfoot or dirty tissues stuffed in the armrests.

  She had been in the car so rarely, but there had been one memorable time when Herbert and Florence Aldridge were away from Port George on a rare overnight visit to Portland. Victoria had mustered the courage to agree to an afternoon drive along back roads. It hadn’t been difficult to slip out of the house without the housekeeper knowing, or to take a path through the wooded area on the Aldridge property until she had reached a little-used dirt road, dappled with sunshine, making its way through a thick canopy of trees.

  At first, Victoria had been too tense to enjoy the outing, wondering how quickly she might duck to the floor should they pass another car. But after half an hour or so, she had relaxed. Neither spoke much. The windows were open to the warm summer breeze; the radio was playing pop hits. Rob’s perfect profile inspired fresh waves of love in young Victoria. She had felt so mature and adult sitting next to Rob in the front seat of that big olive-green vehicle, as if she really did have, or at least could have, a life of her own apart from her parents, as if she could be her own person, no longer just Florence and Herbert Aldridge’s daughter. Sitting at Rob’s side as they traveled those lonely dirt roads, Victoria had longed for the day when they could be seen together by all of Port George, when they would maybe even be Mr. and Mrs. Smith with a house of their own and a future they could determine for themselves.

  The arrival of a customer jolted Arden from her reminiscences. She was about Arden’s age, wearing a pink-and-green floral-pattern sundress and espadrilles that tied around her ankles.

  “I don’t think I’ve seen you in town before,” Arden said with a smile.

  “No, I’m actually passing through. My wife and I are headed north for a vacation. We stopped for a bite to eat at that adorable little French bakery across the street, and I saw your sign. Thank God, too. Can you believe I forgot to bring my books with me? They were all packed and ready to go, in a bag sitting right by the front door, and yet somehow I managed to walk out without them.”

  “That does sound like a nightmare!”

  “Especially since the place we’re staying has no television or Internet service. Which is fine by me, as long as I have my books! Ah, the fiction section!” The woman hurried off.

  Arden was happy to be of help to this avid reader. Arden Forest was her personal haven, but it was also a vital resource for so many of her neighbors and even for the occasional visitor to town, such as this woman. It was essential that Arden find the money for a new roof. She had been putting off visiting the bank to see if she was eligible for a loan, and she wasn’t sure why. Fear of being turned down? Suddenly, Arden felt supremely annoyed with herself for not having acted before now. She was not the sort to indulge in self-sabotage. With “steady exertion by-and-by,” a goal might be achieved. Procrastination accomplished nothing. There and then, Arden vowed to call the bank that afternoon and make an appointment to meet with a loan officer. There was no way she would allow Arden Forest to close its doors.

  After almost twenty minutes, the traveler came staggering to the counter, no fewer than twelve books in her arms. She thanked Arden profusely for having such an excellent selection of titles and, satisfied, went on her way.

  The woman’s bill had come to a hefty sum. If only there were more customers like her, Arden thought, able to spend a few hundred dollars per visit, the roof repair might not be such a financial burden. She lifted the receiver of the shop’s landline and placed a call to the local branch of her bank. There was no time like the present.

  Chapter 64

  Summer 1984

  “You look beautiful,” Rob whispered.

  “Do you really think so?” Victoria glanced down at the pale blue ankle-length concoction she was wearing. “My mother picked out the dress. It’s not really my style.”

  “Well, I think you look great, really. The blue matches your eyes. And you’re wearing the necklace.”

  “Of course.” Victoria touched the small silver charm in the shape of a foot. “I never take it off.”

  Today, July 12, was Victoria’s eighteenth birthday. Her parents had insisted on giving a party in her honor. A party to which Victoria knew she couldn’t invite Rob. A party to which she didn’t have the courage to say no. Though she had mustered the courage to sneak out of the house about an hour before the party was to begin and make her way to this secluded part of her family’s property.

  “I have something for you,” Rob said now as they stood in the evening light filtering through the branches of dark pine trees. He sounded a bit nervous. “Here.”

  Victoria, hands trembling, accepted the object wrapped in white tissue paper.

  “I found it in an antique shop in Waverly,” Rob explained as she removed the tissue paper. “I’m sorry it’s in such bad condition, but it was all I could afford. Someday I’ll be able to get you a really good copy, I promise.”

  Through tears, Victoria gazed down at the late-nineteenth-century edition of Villette she held in her hands, a novel by her favorite author, Charlotte Brontë. “It’s perfect,” she breathed. She felt happier in that moment than she ever had before. Carefully, she opened the cover of the old volume. Rob had written an inscription on the title page.

  To my Vicky. Happy Birthday. Love always, Rob.

  “After I wrote that, I thought that maybe I shouldn’t have. You know, maybe it ruins the value of the book or something.”

  “But I’d never sell this, ever!” Victoria clasped the volume to her heart. “Rob? I’m ready. I want to be with you.”

  Rob looked surprised. “Are you sure, Vicky?” His voice was a bit high. “Really sure? Because it can’t be . . . It has to be . . .”

  “Yes,” she promised. “I am.”

  And though terribly naïve for her age, Victoria truly was sure. She had overheard stories about sex as she and her classmates changed for gym class, tales that ranged from the matter-of-fact to the downright clinical, from the absurd to, on one occasion, a tale that came too near to violence. But none of those stories had at all mentioned the sheer physical and emotional ecstasy she experienced that evening with Rob. This, she thought while thought was still possible, was love, this was the ultimate communion of two soul mates, and it was more beautiful and thrilling than anything she could ever have imagined.

  Afterward, they lay in each other’s arms on a bed of soft pine needles, their hearts still beating fast, the cooling evening air caressing their skin.

/>   Rob kissed the tip of Victoria’s nose and smiled. “I didn’t really want our first time to be, um, under a pine tree.”

  “It was perfect. Better than anything I ever dreamed it would be.”

  “It was for me, too. And you know why? It’s because we love each other.”

  Victoria snuggled deeper into Rob’s arms. “And we do love each other,” she whispered, “totally and completely.”

  “So, who’s going to be at this party?” Rob asked after a moment, tucking a stray strand of her hair behind Victoria’s ear.

  “My parents’ friends.” She sighed. “Honestly, I could disappear after an hour and nobody would know I’d gone.”

  “No one your own age?”

  “I don’t think so. The Coldwells might bring their son, Ted, I suppose. They’re old family friends, about the only decent people my parents know.”

  “This Ted. You like him?”

  “He’s nice,” Victoria said readily, looking up at Rob. “He’s always been like a big brother to me. But I don’t know why he’d want to be there tonight. I’m sure he has something better to do.”

  A strange look flitted across Rob’s face, something like fear, and Victoria wondered if he could be jealous of Ted. There was no reason he should be, no reason at all. She wondered if she should assure Rob that she only had eyes for him—as if what they had just done wasn’t proof enough—but maybe mentioning the possibility of a rival, even an imaginary rival, might make him think she was protesting too much.

  So, she said nothing but kissed him one last time before brushing any pine needles or dirt from her party dress, thanking Rob again for the best gift she had ever been given, and hurrying back to the house—not without a backward glance and a final wave.

  It wasn’t difficult to sneak in through the back door and to dash up to her room. There, she hid Rob’s precious gift under her mattress, sure it would be safe until she could return to the peace of her room later that evening.

  When she joined the party a few minutes later, Ted Coldwell was the first one to greet her and kiss her cheek. “Happy birthday,” he said with a smile. “If you want to duck out at any time, I’ll be your partner in crime.”

  Before Victoria could imagine what Rob might think of Ted’s offer, her father was calling the room to quiet and beckoning her to his side. Blushingly, she joined her parents and silently endured her mother’s fond smile, the toast her father made in her honor, and, finally, the polite applause that followed. As she stood there in her pale blue dress, a glass of champagne in hand, a smile fixed to her face, Victoria was torn both by the urge to sob and the urge to laugh. She was miserable without Rob at her side, absolutely miserable. And she was also blissfully, madly happy.

  She was in love. She was loved. Victoria Aldridge was the luckiest person in the room.

  Chapter 65

  It was the eve of her mother’s birthday, and Laura still hadn’t been able to think of an appropriate birthday present for the woman who had given her life—the woman she hardly knew. If inspiration didn’t strike soon, Laura thought, she would simply have to apologize abjectly and promise to spend the rest of the summer searching for the perfect gift.

  Laura was sitting on the couch; her mother had gone to her room to fetch something. The cats were sleeping off their dinner and the bit of cream Arden had given them as a treat. Lucky kitties, Laura thought fondly. Adopted into a life of comfort and security. Much as she herself had been.

  Arden came back into the room, holding a small object against her chest. “I’d like to show you something. I’ve never shown it to anyone before now.”

  Laura reached out to receive the small, hard-backed book her mother now offered her. Without opening the volume Laura could see that the pages were soft and yellowed and the spine weakened with age.

  “Open it.”

  Laura did so, carefully. “ ‘To my Vicky,’” she read aloud. “‘Happy Birthday. Love always, Rob.’” Laura looked up in surprise. “He called you Vicky.”

  “No one else ever did.”

  Laura felt her heart swell. Her father had held this book. “He must have seen the lively young woman behind the prim and proper facade.”

  Arden laughed. “And I was prim and proper all right! Rob gave me that on my eighteenth birthday. It was the only birthday we ever celebrated together.”

  “It’s a terribly thoughtful gift.” Laura looked up to her mother. “I have to admit I never read Villette. I know you quote from it often enough, so it must be special to you for all sorts of reasons.”

  Arden held out her hand and Laura returned the old book. “I love the passionate voice.” Arden opened to a particular page. “Listen to this: ‘I could not go in: too resistless was the delight of staying with the wild hour, black and full of thunder, pealing out such an ode as language never delivered to man—too terribly glorious, the spectacle of clouds, split and pierced by white and blinding bolts.’”

  “My,” Laura said, her eyebrows raised, “that is highly wrought language!”

  “I recommended the book to one of my young customers a few weeks back. Tami. You met her at the ‘Star-Crossed Lovers’ event. She’s young but I think she’s mature enough to make her way through to the end. And if not, she can return to it when she’s older.”

  Arden placed the book gently on the coffee table and took a seat next to Laura.

  “The night of my eighteenth birthday was the first time Rob and I had sex,” Arden said softly. “The book is a marker of that moment when what I thought would be my real future began. My future with Rob.”

  Laura felt tears prick at her eyes. Her parents’ story was so romantic, but had ended so sadly, as so many romantic stories did.

  “My parents insisted on giving a party in my honor. Of course, no one my age was invited, the guests were all their cohorts from the country club, and of course, Rob couldn’t be there. I felt guilty about that, but to invite him would have been a disaster.”

  “Yes. I can imagine what your parents would have thought had Rob Smith shown up at the front door, having to explain who he was and why he was there.”

  “So, I met Rob first in the wooded area on our property.” Arden smiled. “I was wearing this awful froufrou dress my mother had chosen for me, and Rob, I suppose in an effort to look nice for my birthday, was wearing a dress shirt and a tie with his jeans. He gave me the book, and then, well, we made love. Finally, I had to hurry back to the house before I was missed. First, I hid the book in my room and then I joined the party. There I was, pretending to be the good and dutiful daughter, when I held this enormously exciting secret. I was in love. I had a lover. There were moments when I thought I’d burst out in gleeful laughter, and other moments when I wanted to break down in sobs, I missed Rob so much. I don’t know how I got through that dreadful evening, but I did.”

  Laura sighed. “Your eighteenth birthday was a milestone in more ways than one. Did you . . .” It was an oddly difficult question to ask. “Did you get pregnant with me that night?”

  “I think I must have, yes. If not, it was soon after. Rob and I didn’t have much more time together at that point.”

  Suddenly, it was all too much for Laura. She put her hands over her face and sobbed. A moment later, she felt her mother’s arm around her shoulders, heard her mother’s voice whispering comforting words. She relaxed into the embrace, and only some time later did Laura lift her head, wipe her eyes, and take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Imagining the two of you, so young and happy and hopeful . . .”

  Arden gave Laura’s shoulders a final squeeze. “That’s all in the past now. We’ll talk about something else. You know, Deborah told me she had a really good time with you the other evening.”

  “I’m glad.” Laura gave her eyes one final swipe. “I enjoyed our conversation. And misery loves company, doesn’t it? We’ve both been through the marriage wars, but at least we’ve made it out alive. Battle-scarred, slightly shell-shocked, but alive. It brings us together.�
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  “I hope you talked about more than just the painful times.”

  Laura smiled. “We did. We had a really good chuckle over the antics of some of our worst colleagues. Did you know that Deborah once shared an office with a woman who changed her nail polish at her desk twice a week? Deborah said the smell of nail polish remover was overwhelming!”

  “That makes the odd troublesome customer seem bearable. Hey, how about a glass of wine? We can put on a funny movie, or maybe an old screwball romantic comedy and forget everything else.”

  “I vote for My Man Godfrey!”

  Arden sighed and put a hand over her heart. “William Powell! You get the wine and I’ll cue up the movie!”

  Chapter 66

  Deborah had insisted on hosting Arden’s birthday party and had gone all out with lovely decorations, which included balloons in pearlescent mint green and pale blue, two of Arden’s favorite colors. Deborah had found the balloons online from a company based in Luxembourg.

  “You had balloons shipped from Europe?” Arden exclaimed.

  “Nothing too good for my friend! And I got the cake at Chez Claudine. I wanted it to be something really special.”

  The table on Deborah’s backyard patio was beautifully set with real china and glassware. A vase of a dozen white roses served as a centerpiece, and from a silver ice bucket peered a bottle of chilled champagne.

  Deborah suggested they begin the festivities by presenting their gifts to Arden, who was seated at the head of the table.

  Gordon went first. His gift was a small, elegant carving of a cat in highly polished wood. “It looks more like Bastet than your three massive felines,” he noted, “but I hope you like it.”

  Arden thought it was lovely and said so. Since Deborah’s gift was the party, Laura was next.

  “I really didn’t know what to get you. Please consider this a token, or a placeholder, until I can come up with something more significant.”