by Nancy Thayer
Sophie came down, freshly showered and dressed, but looking sleepy. “Morning,” she mumbled, heading for the coffee.
Trevor kept his eyes on his laptop. “Morning.”
Jonah, Lacey, and Leo were at various spots in the kitchen, fixing toast, gulping down juice, looking lazy.
Trevor kept staring at his laptop, but his mind was on the people around him. This could be my family, he thought suddenly. Sophie could be not just my lover, but my wife. The thoughts were both terrifying and exhilarating. With Tallulah, even with a child, life had still been more like—well, a play—than the real thing. With Tallulah, there had been no disagreements about what to feed Leo or how to dress him or where and when to put him in preschool. Tallulah hadn’t paid attention, and that had given Trevor a freedom that almost felt like being carefree. But with Sophie, who did care about so much, life would be complicated. Trevor would have to man up more than ever before in his life. For one thing, he’d have to be a stepfather. He’d have to engage in these other lives—which meant worry, and sleepless nights, and making mistakes, and getting into heated arguments, and forgiving other people, and forgiving himself.
Trevor said, “I’ve had an idea. We’ve only got a week left and we haven’t seen much of the island at all. I say we rent a four-wheel-drive Jeep and have a picnic at Great Point. We can see seals out there.”
“Dude,” Jonah said approvingly.
“Great Point,” Sophie echoed, her back to Trevor as she prepared her coffee. “What a brilliant idea.”
They prepared a picnic, rented a Jeep, and set off. To get to Great Point, they had to bump over a rutted dirt road between the end of Nantucket Harbor and the few summer houses facing the Atlantic, high on the top of a dune. At a marked fork in the sand, they turned right, the Jeep growling like a tank as it climbed up the dune and dumped them on the long white stretch of beach on the ocean side. Nothing here but sand, more sand, and the blue Atlantic stretching out forever. It was hard work steering the Jeep as it whined through the deep sand, but the kids shrieked with laughter as they tilted and bounced nearly out of their seats.
The Great Point lighthouse rose at the far end of the barrier beach, a tall white steeple to the sky, with a working light flashing at the top. Here was the end of the island, the great point where the Atlantic Ocean met Nantucket Sound in a froth of waves. All along the point, enormous fat seals lolled on the sand, occasionally lumbering in and out of the water, grunting and lounging like a tribe of overfed Roman emperors.
“Can I pet one, Daddy?” Leo asked.
“Forget it. They bite,” Trevor warned. “We won’t go near them. We’ll watch.”
“We won’t swim here, either,” Sophie added. “The water’s too rough, and we don’t know who’s out there.”
“Maybe a great white shark!” Lacey giggled, safe inside the open Jeep.
They ate lunch and walked up the path to check out the small white entrance to the lighthouse. As they got back into the car, Trevor said, “I think we’ll return via the beach along Coatue. The sand’s packed, easier to drive on. Jonah, why don’t you drive?”
Jonah was too shocked to respond. He gawked at Trevor, eyes wide.
Sophie said, “Um, Jonah doesn’t know how to drive.”
“This is the perfect place to learn,” Trevor said. “No other cars around, and the beach is so wide I could stop the car if he steers us toward the water…”
“Mom,” Jonah said.
“Okay,” Sophie decided. “You’ve got to learn sometime.”
Sophie remained in the backseat with Leo and Lacey. Trevor sat in the passenger seat instructing Jonah as they lurched down the beach, past driftwood, curious gulls, broken buoys, and seaweed. When they reached the point between Coatue Point and the jetty protecting the harbor, Jonah stopped. They all got out, climbed on the rocks for a while, waded in the shallows, and looked for shells. Trevor stayed away from Sophie, knowing that if he came too near her, he’d give himself away—take her hand, rub up against her arm, touch her somewhere, somehow…This was enough, he thought, the way she smiled at him, the way their kids beachcombed together, the way Jonah, Lacey, and Leo teased and chased and carelessly wrapped arms around each other as if they were of the same flesh.
The ride back through the brushy trails of Coatue was long and hot. Leo complained he was getting motion sick. Jonah didn’t complain because he was the new king of the world, having driven a Jeep on the beach. When Trevor checked in the rearview mirror, he saw Sophie relaxed against the seat, eyes closed, face lifted to the sun.
—
That night they went out for pizza at Sophie T’s. After showering and cooling down, they all agreed the expedition had been a success. Back home, they spread a map of the island on the dining room table and planned three more explorations. Leo sat on Trevor’s lap, yawning. Even Lacey and Jonah seemed tired from all the fresh air. Trevor thought it might be possible for Sophie and him to go to her room tonight, instead of going down to the music room. He’d keep his hand over Sophie’s mouth.
“Hello, everyone.” Hester walked into the room, pulling off her head scarf. “You all look busy.”
“Mother. I didn’t expect you back so soon,” Sophie said, sharing a quick glance of disappointment with Trevor.
Hester pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “Connor’s lab work won’t be ready for another day or two. I tried to rush them, but they’re backed up as usual, and it’s not an emergency. They did bandage his foot properly. He’s wearing a walking boot for a few days. When we get all the lab work back, we’ll work with a physician here and start him on some kind of medication.”
“Grandmother, we went to Great Point today!” Lacey babbled. “We saw seals! Jonah drove the Jeep!”
Sophie’s mind was still caught on her mother’s announcement. She asked, weakly, “We?”
“That’s wonderful, Lacey,” Hester replied to her granddaughter. “I hope you took photos.” To Sophie, she said, “Yes, we. I promised Connor I’d stay here for a while to help him start his medication and begin a new cooking and exercise regime.”
“That’s awfully good of you, Mother, but what about work?”
Hester shrugged. “I’ve got plenty of leave coming. I’ve already spoken with the supervisor. I could use a spot of vacation myself.”
“But Mother,” Sophie protested, “we’ve only got three more days left in this house. I mean, I’m sure Susie—or Ivan—wouldn’t mind if you remained here a couple of days more after that. But I don’t even know how to get in touch with them, or whether or not they’ve made plans for the house starting September first.”
“That’s fine,” Hester said calmly. “I’ll go back up to Boston when you do. I’ve invited Connor to come up and stay with me while he gets a complete physical.”
“Stay with you?” Sophie echoed.
“Dude,” Jonah muttered.
Hester blushed. It might have been the first time Sophie had ever realized her mother could blush. “Connor is a lovely and intelligent man. I would like to be certain he’s on a routine toward better health. Also—” Now Hester blushed pinker and smiled— “I thought he might enjoy seeing some of Boston.”
“Well, Mom, that’s awfully nice of you,” Sophie said.
Hester shot Sophie one of her looks. “I do have a guest room, you know.” Softening, she added, “And I do enjoy his company.”
—
DAH-dum dum dum.
Trevor sat up in bed and allowed himself a moment to calm his nerves. He’d awakened from a deep sleep to the notes from the piano and his heart was racing.
Leo was getting so much better. Trevor had thought so, at least. Leo no longer insisted on putting on clothes in a certain order. He allowed Sophie to make his sandwiches. But this was too much, this entire summer of sleepwalking and obsessive, repetitive key-banging. Trevor rose with a sinking heart. What would happen when they returned to Boston? Leo was asking for a piano, but should he have one?
/> Trevor headed barefoot down the stairs. When he got to the music room, he was surprised to see Sophie already there, kneeling next to Leo. Trevor stopped in the doorway, listening.
“Leo,” Sophie was saying, “I think I know what song you’re playing.”
Leo aimed his large eyes at Sophie and even in the semidarkness Trevor could see the hope in his son’s face, in his entire body. “You do?”
“Is it this?” Sophie slid onto the piano bench and placed her hands on the keys. Softly, she played the opening bars to the Irving Berlin song made so famous by Ethel Merman. “There’s NO Business Like SHOW Business,” she played, quietly singing the words.
Leo nodded vigorously, almost hopping with excitement. “That’s Mommy’s song! Play more.”
Sophie played the song through, singing most of the words, fudging the ones she didn’t remember.
“That’s Mommy’s song,” Leo said again. “She sang that to me all the time. She said to remember that song. No matter what happens, she said, go on and have fun.”
“That’s right,” Sophie said. “Your mommy was a smart lady. Leo, would you like me to teach you to play the song?”
“Okay,” Leo said, and began to crawl up onto Sophie’s lap.
Trevor started to intervene—it was three thirty in the morning. But Sophie took the boy in her arms, settled him, and said, “We have to be very quiet so we don’t wake people. I’ll put my hand over yours. I’ll press your fingers on the keys.”
Trevor stood watching. Slowly, and terribly, Sophie and Leo played, “There’s NO Business like SHOW Business.”
“Again,” Leo demanded.
“Not tonight, Leo,” Sophie said.
Trevor held his breath, expecting a tantrum.
“You know,” Sophie continued, “this song is meant to be played and sung really loudly, as loud as you can be. And we can’t do that tonight, can we? We’d wake everyone up.”
Leo thought a minute. “Okay. Can we do it tomorrow?”
“Sure, honey-bunny,” Sophie assured the boy. “We can do it a lot tomorrow.”
Leo slid off Sophie’s lap and ran to Trevor. “I’m ready to go to bed now, Daddy. I have my song.”
The end of the summer arrived with the swift chaos of a wave rolling in to crash onto the shore. Sophie and Trevor had to share a marathon of laundry, packing, organizing, cleaning out the cupboards, searching beneath beds, sofas, and desks for lost socks, filling a box of staples—sugar, flour, spices—to take down for Connor to use. Trevor couldn’t find a way to reach Ivan, and when Sophie tried Susie Swenson’s cell phone, no one answered. Trevor had to run to the grocery store to find cardboard boxes for all the Legos people had given Leo over the summer. He and Sophie had a conference with the three kids to figure out whether various games—Clue, Monopoly, Ticket to Ride—belonged to one of the families or had been on the shelf in the house.
Sophie assumed her practical, efficient, Mother would help organize and pack, but Hester spent much of her time with Connor, driving him into town for short walks and lunch, or out to one of the beaches to drink wine while watching the sunset.
“I’m amazed at my mother,” Sophie said one evening after she and Trevor had gotten the children in bed. They were sitting on the patio, lights off in the kitchen, enjoying some private time being alone together in the dark.
“Why?” Trevor asked.
“I’ve never seen her so…mellow. The Hester you’re seeing isn’t the Hester I grew up with.”
“Speaking of…” Trevor lowered his voice. “Look what’s going on now.” He touched her arm gently. “Ssh. Don’t make a move. We don’t want them to know we’re here.”
Following his gaze, Sophie glanced over at Connor’s patio. The older gentleman was holding a blanket over one arm, and holding the door open with the other so that Hester could step out onto the patio. Murmuring quietly, they walked down the lawn to the darkest spot on the property. Connor flipped open the blanket. Hester caught one end and helped spread it out on the grass. Then, gingerly, the two carefully lowered themselves onto the blanket and lay down, staring up at the sky. After a few moments, Connor raised his hand, no doubt pointing out a constellation.
My mother is lying on a blanket with a man who is showing her the stars, Sophie thought with wonder. She swallowed the large lump that rose in her throat. When Connor reached over to take Hester’s hand, and Hester reached to receive it, Sophie found herself smiling and crying at the same time.
Leaning over to Trevor, she whispered in his ear, “I want to go inside. I sort of feel like we’re spying.”
Quietly, like children on Christmas Eve, Sophie and Trevor slid out of their chairs and crept into the kitchen, leaving the pair on the blanket to watch the stars in privacy.
—
Two days before they had to leave, Hester was absentminded, Jonah was sulky, Lacey was whiny, and then Leo told his father that he was riding back with Jonah and Lacey.
They were all sitting around the table, finishing a dinner of leftovers. Leo’s announcement brought a stop to the conversation.
Sophie glanced at Trevor. “Leo, honey,” she said gently, “we’d love to have you ride back with us, but I don’t know where you live.”
“We live with you,” Leo told her.
Trevor swallowed. “Leo, on Nantucket, on vacation, we live with the Andersons, but at home we live, well, at home. In our apartment. With the goldfish, remember?” Suddenly a goldfish seemed like a paltry reason to call a place a home.
Leo’s lip quivered. “But I want to live with Lacey and Jonah! Why can’t we live with Lacey and Jonah?”
Trevor was heartsick as he looked at the confused face of his little boy. “Leo, listen, we’ll visit Lacey and Jonah a lot. They’ll visit us. We’ll do a lot of cool things with them. But they have their own house, and we have our own house.”
“But that’s all wrong!” Leo cried. His self-control fell apart. He sagged on his chair, sobbing.
Lacey was crying now, too. “Oh, Mommy, I wish we could adopt Leo.”
Hester, trying to be helpful, said, “Lacey, you’re old enough to know that’s not possible.”
“Oh, Mother, shut up,” Sophie snapped. Her own eyes were welling with tears.
Trevor moved over to embrace his son, trying to pull him onto his lap, but Leo hit out at him, his face red and wet with tears. “No! I want to go with them!” Trevor thought he was going to throw up right then and there. He wanted help, he wanted Sophie to help him, he wanted Lacey and Jonah to reassure Leo, but Leo was his child and his alone, and he was the father, the grown-up, and this was all messed up. He and Sophie hadn’t been able even to kiss for the past three days, since Hester returned. Someone was always in the room with them, or about to enter the room. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about the future, and while every fiber in his being screamed out that he should stand up and announce right now that he was going to marry Sophie and they would all live together, Trevor wanted for once in his life not to be impetuous.
“Leo,” he said, forcing himself to sound calm, to sound in control, to even sound kind, “Leo, kid, I know it’s hard, but we have to say goodbye to the Andersons.”
And then Sophie was there, kneeling on the other side of Leo’s chair, reaching out to take the child in her arms. “Leo, we will live together, very soon. Your daddy and I have to make some arrangements first, but while we do, we have to live in our own houses. But we’ll see each other all the time. You and your daddy can come to our house for sleepovers. We’ll all come to your house for sleepovers, too.”
“Really?” Leo asked, his eyes wide with hope as tears ran down his face.
“Really.” Sophie picked up a napkin and gently wiped the boy’s nose.
“Are you my family?” Leo asked.
Sophie nodded. “We’re your family. Lacey, and Jonah, and me, and Daddy, too, and you, Leo.”
“Oh my gosh!” Lacey cried, jumping up from her chair. “Does that mean we’re
going to get married?”
“Duh,” Jonah said. “They’re going to get married, not all of us.”
Hester, her practicality tempered by her relationship with Connor, asked gently, “But isn’t Sophie still married to Zack?”
“Technically.” Sophie waved her hand as if flapping away a gnat. “Not for much longer.” Gathering Leo into her arms, she slid onto his chair. Now she was very close to Trevor, who remained next to the chair, wanting to console his son, wanting to kiss Sophie passionately, trying not to beam. Leo was snuggling against Sophie, digging his head into her bosom—Trevor wouldn’t mind doing that himself right now. But he stood up, gathering his words, thinking how best to apologize to Sophie’s children for this bizarre sudden announcement that they were all family, terrified that Jonah would consider Leo a spoiled brat who got his own way by having tantrums, and especially that Jonah wouldn’t understand that Sophie and Trevor had been talking about this like adults.
“We intended to sit down with you all—” Trevor began.
“Dude,” Jonah said, and shoved back his chair. He walked over to Leo and squatted down next to him. “I have an idea. You can ride back to Boston with Mom and Lacey. They’ll take you to your apartment before we go to our house. We can come in and see your room.”
Leo’s brow wrinkled. “But then Daddy will have to drive all alone.”
“Nah,” Jonah said. “I’ll ride with him and we’ll meet you there.”
Trevor turned on his heel and strode from the room. Overcome with the first true joy he’d felt since Leo’s birth, Trevor went into the bathroom, shut the door, met his reflection in the mirror, and gave himself a big, fat high-five. This was happening. It was real.
Finally he pulled himself together, calmed his breathing, and returned to the dining room.
“Goodness,” said Hester, “you must have terrible allergies. I have an antihistamine with me you can take.”
