Heat Wave

by Nancy Thayer

  “I understand,” Cisco agreed with quiet dignity, sitting up very straight. “When we were at Grandma’s day care center, we met kids with terrible lives. It’s true, isn’t it, Margaret?” Cisco turned to her sister for confirmation.

  In her high clear voice, Margaret added, “Some little kids didn’t have daddies. Some didn’t even have mommies! Some didn’t have very many clothes—”

  “Mom, we saw little children with really sad illnesses. And Grandma and Bernice took care of them.”

  “You didn’t tell me this,” Carley said faintly.

  Margaret hurried to explain. “We didn’t want to make you cry.”

  “Oh, honey,” Carley said, nearly crying.

  “When do you leave, Nana?” Cisco inquired, sounding quite grown-up.

  “After Thanksgiving. We come home in May.”

  “Will you ride on a donkey in Guatemala?” Margaret’s question, and her mangling of the pronunciation of the country, made them smile.

  “We’ll take our laptop, and I’ll email you photos every week,” Russell told them. “We can even talk live on Skype.”

  “Granddad, you are awesome,” Cisco told him, and gave him a high five.

  “Carley?”

  “Hey, Maud.” She’d been anticipating this phone call.

  “I hear Vanessa’s back on the island.”

  “She is. She came over last week.”

  “To your house?”

  “Yes, to my house. She looks great.”

  “Someone saw her on the street and says she looks, um, like she’s gained weight.”

  “She looks like she’s pregnant, because she is.”

  “She’s pregnant?” Maud’s voice lifted with delight, and in that moment Carley forgave Maud everything on Vanessa’s behalf, because Maud was so purely, spontaneously happy for Vanessa. “Who’s the father? When’s the baby due? Will she live here? Oh, how amazing!”

  Carley laughed. “Listen, you could take a moment to ask me how I’m doing.”

  “Why? Good Lord, are you pregnant, too?”

  “Very funny. I only meant it’s been weeks since I’ve seen you. We haven’t even spoken on the phone.”

  “Give me a break. I had book tours all summer, then Toby needed a vacation so we all went to the Adirondacks, then I had to get the kids ready for school. Would you come over for coffee tomorrow?”

  “That would be great, Maud.”

  31

  • • • • •

  Wyatt arrived at Carley’s at ten o’clock at night, when the girls were asleep. The moment he stepped in the door, he pulled Carley to him.

  “God, I missed you.” He kissed her fiercely.

  She curled herself around him tightly, breathing in his warm male aroma, loving the swell of his masculine muscles, the length of his bones, the hardness of his body. She wanted to burrow right under his clothes.

  “I guess you missed me, too,” he whispered.

  “Can we just go to bed?” she pleaded. “No, wait, I can’t even make it up the stairs. Come into the den.” She pulled him by the hand. “Don’t worry. The door locks.”

  She pushed him down on the leather sofa and straddled him, running her hands over his cheeks, shivering at the prickles of his evening beard against her soft palms. She kissed his eyes, his forehead, his nose, cheeks. She brushed, then bruised his mouth with kisses. She nudged under his neck and down into the V of his button-down shirt. She was crazy for him, shoving herself against him, the cold metal of his belt buckle catching on her panties.

  “Hey.” Wyatt was smiling. “Slow down.”

  She couldn’t. She unbuttoned his shirt, almost ripping off the buttons. She yanked her tee off over her head, and she’d purposely worn no bra. She unbuckled Wyatt’s belt and unzipped his trousers, and then Wyatt wasn’t smiling anymore, he moaned deep in his throat and rolled her over so that her back was on the sofa. He shoved into her. She held on to him as if she could never let him go. They were burning, sweating, panting, holding back, trying to hold back, needing to be this way together, locked together, joined, two beasts, two animals, two spirits, fused into one.

  Later, curled together on the sofa, they caught their breath. After a moment, Wyatt said simply, “Wow.”

  Carley’s face was pressed against his chest. “I want to have sex with you all the time. I hardly know what to do with myself.”

  His laugh was full and hearty. “I think you know exactly what to do with yourself,” he told her.

  They dressed and went into the kitchen to finish off the apple crisp Carley had made.

  “How do you feel about Russell and Annabel going to Guatemala after Thanksgiving?” Wyatt asked.

  Carley nodded. “Truly? I’m shocked. They’ve never done anything like this before. Will you be alone in the office?”

  “Yes, but I can handle it. Winter’s usually quiet. Although Russell and I have broached the subject of taking on a new partner. I think that’s one reason they want to go away, far away. Without Gus, Russell has no one to leave the firm to. He’s ready to retire. Ready to change his life.”

  “You’re a partner in the firm,” Carley reminded him.

  Wyatt said, “Yes, that’s true.” He put down his fork and crossed his arms on the table. “It’s complicated. Russell might retire, but he’s active, vital. I can’t see him not wanting to look over my shoulder. Can I carry the burden of Russell’s expectations?”

  Carley nodded. “I can sympathize.”

  “I could do it if I had you on my side.”

  Lightly, Carley responded, “You can have me on many parts of your body.”

  “Carley.” His voice deepened.

  She looked up, surprised by the tone in his voice. She pulled the neck of her robe tight.

  “Carley, I’ve kept myself reined in for years. I loved Gus, he was my best friend, I would never disrespect him. You know I never came on to you. But Gus is gone. I’m thirty-eight years old. I want a life with you.”

  Carley didn’t know how a person could be this happy and this sad at the same time without breaking apart. “Wyatt … it’s so soon. Too soon. Gus hasn’t been dead even a year. I can’t get my head around this.”

  “I understand that. Although I was hoping you felt the same way …”

  “I don’t know how I feel.” She shook her head to clear it. “The girls come first. Always. I have to consider their feelings.”

  “Of course. I love your daughters, too. I don’t want to do anything to hurt them. But Carley, I want to be with you.”

  “Do you mean going out together?”

  “First, of course. And staying in together, too. For the girls’ sake, to let them get used to the idea. Marriage, eventually.”

  “Marriage.” She took a deep breath. His gaze was intense. She slid off her chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and paced around the kitchen. “Annabel and Russell.”

  “We can’t live our lives trying to please them.”

  “The girls …”

  “I think the girls like me. I care for them. If we go slowly, they’ll get used to the idea of us together.” Wyatt came close to Carley, put his arms around her, and held her against him. “I’ve frightened you, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to pressure you. But you have to admit,” he continued, confidently, “you and I have something pretty special together.”

  “True.” She spoke against his flannel shirt. It was so soft and smelled so good, so clean. “But sex, well, it makes me think of Maud and Toby.”

  “We aren’t hurting anyone.”

  She nodded, but her thoughts were in turmoil. She pushed away. She walked away, the length of the kitchen. “This is so much, Wyatt. I do need to think. I do need some time.”

  He looked disappointed, but not defeated. “Yes, I thought as much. Carley, I’m going away for a few weeks.”

  “Where?”

  “A friend’s asked me to join him hiking down in North Carolina. I’m going to be really tied to the offi
ce when Russell leaves. I’ve got to take this opportunity to take a break. And to give you some time to think. That’s why I planned this trip. Although I’ll admit part of me was hoping not to take it.”

  A kind of pain sliced through her at the sight of this lovely man making himself vulnerable to her. On the refrigerator a picture Margaret had drawn in school depicted a family of three females, clearly Carley and her daughters, bright in colorful clothing, dancing in the flowers. It was two months old, but Carley didn’t want to take it down. It was pretty, cheerful, and it gave her hope, this illustration of a widow and her fatherless daughters dancing, happy, enjoying life. Carley’s heart felt torn in so many ways.

  “When do you leave?” she asked.

  “Not till the end of October. I’ll go for a month. I need to be back before Russell leaves for Guatemala just after Thanksgiving. I’d like to be with you—and the girls—at Christmas.”

  “Christmas?” She put her hand on her forehead. “That seems so far away.” She saw that response had disappointed him.

  His eyes were solemn. “Life goes by fast, Carley.” He approached her carefully, as if she were a wary animal. He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’d better go home. It’s late.”

  Carley walked him to the door, embraced him one last time, stood in the open doorway to wave good-bye as he drove away. She closed the door and her legs went right out from under her. Sliding down to the floor, she leaned against the door and hugged her knees. She was crying; she wasn’t sure why.

  32

  • • • • •

  She’d almost forgotten how much she loved Maud’s house. It had begun as a basic ranch house, but over the years as Maud’s books made money, she’d added wings and skylights and bay windows and nooks. Long shelves ranged throughout the house, holding all the treasures she’d bought whenever and wherever she found them to inspire her in her writing. Gargoyles, griffins, and ogres grimaced down next to fanciful fairies and angels. Of course there were mermaids everywhere—it was almost a mermaid museum. Shelves and walls held replicas of seals, sea lions, octopi, whales, sharks, fish, in addition to bowls and glass jars of every imaginable kind of shell. Wind chimes and small glass balls in swirls of color hung from the ceiling. Sun catchers turned the light into rainbows on the living room furniture.

  Maud hugged Carley when she arrived. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”

  “The summer just whipped past.” The front door opened directly into the long living room. “Maud, let me just walk around first and look.”

  “Shall I make coffee?”

  “I’ve had enough caffeine. Maybe some juice. Wait. You’ve changed your kitchen.” She followed Maud.

  Maud swept her arm around the spacious open room. “The boys are getting old enough to be interested in what I do, and Spenser especially likes art, so I’ve made a kind of arts and crafts area for them. It’s a mess, that’s why we never have people to dinner, but since Spenser’s having trouble with school, I’m trying to open up new possibilities for him.”

  “I had no idea Spenser was having trouble with school.”

  “We thought it was dyslexia, but it’s not that. It might be emotional, because Toby’s moved in. He’s stopped talking as much, he’s sulky, he won’t commit any time to school work, he won’t focus on it. But when I get the boys going on art work, he zeroes right in.”

  Maud crossed the room and held up several large sheets of construction paper. Some were covered with colored pencil, some with glued papers and pieces cut out of magazines.

  “Bizarre, right?” Maud shook her head. “It looks chaotic. Makes no sense to me. But it means something to Spenser and he freaks if I try to throw any of it out. When they were small, I did art work with the boys. I helped them ‘write’ their own ‘books.’ Perhaps this is kind of an extension of that.”

  “What do his teachers say?”

  “They’re working with us. They’re good. He’s got Anna Jane Krebs this year, and she’s dynamite with boys.” Maud crossed to her refrigerator and took out a bottle of juice. “Cranberry okay?”

  “Fine.”

  Maud giggled. “I have to drink it since Toby. It helps prevent urinary tract infections.”

  “Are you having those?”

  “Um, I didn’t use to, back when I never had sex.”

  “Get out. Sex causes urinary tract infections?”

  “It does in me. At least too much of it does.”

  “Too much sex?” Carley held up her hand. “Never mind. Don’t tell me, please. Too much information.”

  “Poor baby,” Maud cooed. “You’ll have sex again someday, I’m sure.”

  Carley opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. Not until after Thanksgiving, she reminded herself.

  They sat in the living room, talking about the children: Cisco and her newfound love of riding, Margaret and first grade, Percy and first grade, and at length about Spenser and his trouble at school.

  Carley asked, “Does it help to be living with a pediatrician?”

  “Not for this. This is emotional, we’re pretty sure. I mean, we’ve had his eyes checked, and his hearing. He’s not sick. The therapist thinks he’s depressed and angry because it’s really hitting home that his real father left and a substitute father has moved in.”

  “How does Percy get along with Toby?”

  “He adores him. Loves playing with him, roughhousing with him, wants Toby to read him his nighttime story and tuck him in at night. But Percy never really knew his birth father.”

  “Families,” Carley groaned. “They’re like daily triathlons.” Her eye fell on a captivating crystal statue of a child reading. It was placed in the center of the coffee table and had writing on it. She leaned forward. “Maud, what’s this?”

  “Oh, it’s an award I won.” Maud ducked her head shyly. “From the National Children’s Library Association for best illustrated and written children’s book.”

  “When did you receive it?”

  “In August.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You were busy, I was busy …”

  “You are such a dork! You should have told me! Congratulations! We need to celebrate. We need to have some champagne!” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, you probably already celebrated with Toby.”

  Maud shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. Reaching out, she stroked the crystal statue, with affection, as if for courage. “Of course I did. I wasn’t sure you’d even want to celebrate with me. Because of Vanessa, I mean. Would you have wanted to come over and celebrate with me and Toby …” She let her voice trail off.

  Carley sighed, “I’d have to think about that. It’s going to feel awkward seeing you and Toby together socially, but I guess I’ll get used to it.”

  “You’ll have to. We’re getting married next summer. We’ve booked the church.” Maud stood up and paced around the room. “It will be a small wedding, a large one wouldn’t be appropriate, but I would love for you to be my matron of honor, except how can you be, when you’re Vanessa’s friend, too?” Before Carley could answer, Maud asked, “How is Vanessa? Tell me everything.”

  Carley caught her breath. On the drive over, she’d contemplated how much she should share with Maud about what Vanessa had told her. “Vanessa’s good,” she slowly confided. “She’s pregnant. She’s happy.” She paused. “She’s going to stay on the island. She realized when she was in Boston that she loves it here, and she has a community here, and friends.”

  “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me? Do you think she’ll ever let me be her friend again?”

  “That’s asking an awful lot of her, don’t you think, Maud?”

  “Yeah, I guess, but Carley, I miss her!” Tears shot into Maud’s big blue eyes. “I miss us, Las Tres Enchiladas! We had such fun.”

  “Instead,” Carley reminded her, “you have Toby.”

  Maud chewed a fingernail. “Carley, who’s the father of Vanessa’s baby?”

  “I don’
t know. Not Toby.”

  “Please. I can count.”

  “Whoever the father is, he won’t be involved.”

  “She’ll need friends,” Maud mused. “And think about this. When Vanessa has her baby, who’s going to be her pediatrician? Toby’s the only one on the island.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Well, then, once she has her baby, Maud, she’ll be so happy, her life will be completely turned around, the way it is when you have your first child. She’ll probably be ready to forgive you by then.”

  “Especially,” Maud grinned, “if she has a boy. I know all about boys, and you don’t.”

  33

  • • • • •

  Carley woke to the sound of rain spattering against her window. An autumnal chill had crept in overnight, and a wicked early October breeze batted bushes against the side of the house. Today would be a good day to bake cookies in addition to her breakfast sweet rolls. All three rooms had guests who very well might want to stay in the living room, reading, playing board games, and munching. She’d light a fire in the fireplace, too.

  With cookies and muffins in the oven, she pulled on her raincoat and slipped outside. She’d set pots of geraniums and begonias around the edge of the garden to add bits of color. It was almost time to bring them in. On a gray day like this, the bright blaze of scarlet and coral would be welcome in the house.

  She took shelter on her porch and stood for a moment, looking across the rain-drenched lawn to the waters of Nantucket Sound expanding into what seemed infinity, but which she knew ended at Cape Cod. She had always been reassured by that certainty, that even though she looked out at an endless horizon, a limitless ocean, there in fact waited for her the reliable southern shore of the Cape and the solid mass of the continent, a harbor, a shelter, a place with restaurants, libraries, hospitals, shops, and thousands of other people going on with their lives.

  The wind swept the water into rippling waves. October would be busy for the B&B, but November would be quiet, except for a little rush around Thanksgiving, and another around New Year’s Eve, and no one for all of January, February, or March. Many innkeepers took this time for their own vacations, fleeing to Florida or the Caribbean for the sunshine. She had made no plans for a vacation for herself and the girls except to take them down to her parents for Christmas. She didn’t have the money for anything extravagant, although she could take them to Boston for a few days of museums and movies on the big screen.