Secrets in Summer

by Nancy Thayer

  “Take a deep breath, Willow,” Darcy whispered. “You’re hyperventilating.”

  “Darcy ran into the yard and stopped us.” Willow gave a half grin. “You should have seen her—she was like a maniac, she totally scared Logan!”

  Autumn put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and ran them up and down Willow’s arms, in the process accidentally—or not—sweeping Darcy’s hand away. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I—”

  “Heroin?” Boyz crossed the room in three steps and loomed over the women. “Are you telling me you did heroin?”

  “Oh my god!” Autumn burst into tears.

  “Heroin,” Boyz muttered. “Way out here on this isolated sandbar.”

  “Mom, I said I didn’t do it. Darcy stopped me.”

  “What the hell was Darcy doing there?” Boyz demanded.

  “I just told you. We were in the backyard—Logan and I—and he wanted me to snort some heroin, and Darcy, like, exploded into our yard and kicked his hand and the stuff flew into the grass and Darcy yelled at him and he left and Darcy took me to her house for hot chocolate.”

  Autumn stared at Darcy, who was almost painfully aware of how sloppy she looked in her T-shirt with its slogan—The library, a great place to get checked out—and shorts and flip-flops. Darcy couldn’t remember when she’d last brushed her hair. She’d never met Autumn. The other woman had flawless skin and a killer figure, was taller than Darcy, even barefoot. Darcy felt she was being judged by a really sexy schoolteacher.

  “I don’t understand,” Autumn said. “Who’s Logan?”

  Willow cringed, drawing her shoulders up as if she wanted to be a turtle hiding in her shell.

  “Maybe we should sit down,” Darcy suggested. Trying to inject some calm into the situation—Willow was trembling, Boyz’s face was crimson—she gestured toward the kitchen chairs.

  “Right,” Boyz snapped. “Right, tell us what to do in our own house.”

  “I’ll leave if you’d like, but you might want to hear what I have to say,” Darcy replied, keeping her tone neutral.

  Willow wrenched herself from her mother’s hands and plunked down in a chair. She crossed her arms over her chest and hung her head.

  Autumn pulled out a chair next to her daughter. Boyz sighed mightily and sat, and Darcy took a seat at the far end of the table.

  “All right,” Autumn said. “Let’s begin at the beginning. Who is Logan?”

  “My boyfriend,” Willow muttered.

  “Your boyfriend?” Autumn broke into a relieved laugh. “Honey, you’re way too young to have a boyfriend.”

  “Oh, please,” Willow rolled her eyes at her mother’s naïveté.

  Darcy spoke up. “Logan Smith is an island boy. As I told Boyz, I overheard him trying to…have sex with Willow. In the backyard. I was sitting in my backyard. I couldn’t help overhearing.”

  Willow lifted her head. “See? I am old enough to have a boyfriend. Logan’s really nice. And totally hot.”

  But Autumn was glaring at her husband. “As Darcy told you? When did Darcy tell you this piece of news? And where?”

  Willow’s head whipped toward Darcy. “Wait, what? You told my father?”

  “Cool your jets, Autumn,” Boyz said. “We ran into each other in the grocery store. Before that moment I had no idea she lived here, on the island or on the next street. It’s the only time I’ve seen her since we’ve been here.”

  Darcy cut in. “I told Boyz that I knew Logan Smith. He’s handsome and he’s charismatic and he’s a troublemaker. I’ve heard rumors that he’s dealing heroin. Now I know.”

  Autumn stayed focused on her husband. “Why didn’t you tell me, Boyz?”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I knew you’d be pissed that I’d seen Darcy.”

  Autumn scowled. “Well, I can’t say I’m exactly thrilled.”

  “I wasn’t, either, Autumn! For God’s sake, I didn’t want to see Darcy. I didn’t try to see Darcy. “

  Autumn leaned belligerently over the table toward her husband. “And yet you saw her.”

  “In the Stop and Shop! By accident. No, now that I remember it, I think she accosted me.”

  Darcy bristled at the word accosted but didn’t have a chance to object before Autumn stabbed her with an accusing glare.

  “So you’ve been stalking my husband?”

  Darcy couldn’t help it. She broke into a laugh. “Please, this is getting ridiculous. I was shopping for groceries and we accidentally bumped into each other. I was worried about Willow—”

  “She asked me to meet her at the café,” Boyz said.

  “So I could speak with him about Willow and Logan,” Darcy added, wishing she didn’t sound so defensive.

  “What café?” Autumn demanded of her husband.

  Darcy answered, “Not a real café. A quiet spot in the corner of the store where we could talk—”

  “A quiet spot? And you didn’t tell me?” Autumn snarled at her husband.

  “Because I knew you’d be upset and I didn’t want to upset you,” Boyz explained.

  “But I wanted to tell him about Willow!” Darcy nearly shouted. “Your daughter. Who is only fourteen. And maybe having sex with Logan. Who is eighteen.”

  “What our daughter does is none of your business,” Boyz said.

  Darcy kept her voice level. “It is my business—it’s everyone’s business—if I hear a boy trying to get her to snort heroin.”

  Autumn turned to her daughter. “Is this true? Was that boy making you snort heroin?”

  “He wasn’t making me…” Willow equivocated.

  “Why would he do that?” Autumn demanded.

  Willow looked down at her hands, but she was unable to hide the emotions playing over her face—guilt, sorrow, confusion.

  Darcy intervened. “Because he’s a dealer.”

  “Did you take—snort—any?” Autumn asked.

  Willow mumbled, “I didn’t use any. I was going to, but that’s when Darcy stampeded into the yard. She was yelling like she was mental, and she kicked Logan’s hand. He was really mad. She was going to call the police—she had her cellphone—but Logan left. He called her a nasty old bitch.” Willow smiled. “A snake-face bitch.”

  Both Autumn and Boyz stared at Darcy, as if looking for the snake face.

  She was relieved when Autumn relaxed. “Well, then, Darcy, thank you.”

  “Yes, thank you.” Boyz stood up, as if to demonstrate that this conversation was over. “You don’t have to worry about Willow. We’ll make sure she doesn’t see this boy Logan. You won’t have to listen to Willow or have anything to do with her anymore.”

  Darcy knew she was being dismissed. She rose, and then Willow cried, “But, Dad, I’m going to help Darcy at the library. I’m going to help her read to the little kids.”

  Autumn gasped. “We brought you to this beautiful island, and you want to stay inside with a bunch of children and books?”

  “It won’t be all day,” Darcy interjected. “And not every day. I’ll phone Willow with a tentative schedule….”

  “Give me your cell number,” Autumn said to Darcy.

  Darcy told her; Autumn punched the numbers in her cell. She moved to the door. “Bye, Willow.”

  “Oh! Well, bye, Darcy.” Willow made an abrupt, unexpected move, pushing her chair away from the table, rising, and rushing over to hug Darcy. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome.” Darcy looked at the girl’s sweet face, seeing the freckles across her nose, the tilt of her pretty mouth, and a warmth moved through her and a sense of joy. Whoever collaborated to make this girl, Darcy was glad she was here on earth. And she felt, probably wrongly but still strongly, a sense of connection, almost a sense of guardianship.

  She released herself from Willow’s hug and went out the door before Boyz could say something that would turn the moment sour.

  Darcy couldn’t fall asleep that night. She tossed and turned so muc
h that Muffler, who always slept next to her, finally jumped off the bed and stalked from the room, his tail twitching with indignation.

  —

  She woke to a day bright with sun and fresh air, as if her corner of the world had been washed clean overnight. As she walked to work, she called Jordan on her cell and told her about the drama.

  “That girl has no idea how lucky she is,” Jordan said. “What if you hadn’t stopped Logan? I hate to think. Are you going to the police about this?”

  “I’ll call Sheriff Perlman on my lunch break and tell him about Logan.”

  Darcy turned onto Main Street and entered the core district of the town. Doors were opening, shopkeepers were sweeping the sidewalks and watering their flower boxes, a UPS truck was parked by a store, the farm trucks with their bounty of fresh vegetables waited at the corner of Main and Federal. Here and there, pairs of people sat on benches, drinking their coffee and gabbing. A woman with a Borzoi hurried into the Hub. A man in a suit—a rare sight here in the summer—came out with a cup of coffee and a newspaper.

  “Jordan, I’m almost at the library. I’ll call you later.”

  Once she set foot in the library, Darcy cranked into autopilot mode, doing three things at once, handling the good tasks—cataloging the new books, holding a story hour with twenty children—and the more unpleasant tasks—helping a child who had vomited all over himself because his babysitter had caved and bought him a huge candy bar for breakfast. She answered the phone, shelved books, sat at the circ desk when one of the assistants needed a coffee break, gulped down a yogurt for her lunch and an iced coffee at three o’clock, and called Art Perlman to tell him about Logan’s possession of heroin. Art told her they’d been watching Logan for some time now and thanked her for the information.

  In the middle of all this, Willow arrived. Darcy had spoken to Beverly about hiring Willow on an informal part-time basis; Beverly said she’d run it by the director of the library, but until then, to pay the girl fifteen dollars an hour and take it out of petty cash. While Darcy did one story hour, Willow sat at the back, watching, her eyes bright with excitement. Darcy had a chance to say only a few words to Willow before her work phone rang and Beverly, rushing out of the office on her way to an appointment, handed Darcy a pile of forms to deal with before the end of the day.

  Walking home, she caught a call from Nash.

  “How did we ever live before cellphones?” she asked.

  Nash laughed. Darcy loved his laugh, a nice easy low rumble. “We probably moved more slowly and had better concentration. On the other hand, this nice piece of haddock Karl gave me wouldn’t be as fresh when it was cooked.”

  “Want to bring it to my house?”

  “No, I think I’d like to grill it here. I’ve got some new potatoes, too. You could bring over a few of those green things you insist on eating.”

  “Vegetables,” Darcy said, knowing Nash liked vegetables as much as she did, except for kale and spinach, which he said made him gag. “I’ll bring a big salad. Do you have wine?”

  “I do. White and red and, yes, I know white is supposed to be eaten with fish, but you’ve been on a tear recently about drinking red because it’s got antioxidants, so I bought both kinds.”

  Darcy smiled. It was very nice to have someone remember what you liked to drink. “I’ll be over as soon as I can get there.”

  She knew Nash lived in an apartment over a garage, but this would be the first time she’d been there. She was excited. She’d find out more about this man—was he a slob, was his place all giant-screen TV and video games, what did he keep in his fridge? Plus, his invitation seemed to indicate a deeper level of intimacy. He’d been in her house a lot, and in her bed a lot, but she’d never been in his. Would the sheets be clean?

  Nash lived on Meadowview Drive, a long curling lane of homes with big yards and mature trees. She parked in the driveway behind his truck. The house itself had that closed-up look. She remembered he’d told her the owners were in France for the summer.

  Nash came out to meet her. His blue eyes were warm and he smiled as he took the salad bowl from her arms. “The grill’s back here.”

  Behind the garage, a lawn opened up, stretching to a bank of rose of Sharon bushes not yet in bloom. A small stone patio extended from the back of the garage, with a grill on one corner, a small table and four white plastic chairs in the middle, and a line of terra-cotta pots with cherry tomato plants growing in them.

  “Pretty,” Darcy said.

  “You’re pretty,” Nash told her. He set the salad bowl on the table, took her in his arms, and kissed her for a long time.

  She pulled away. “Tonight we are going to eat and talk before we do anything else.”

  “Well, that sounds ominous.”

  “It’s not, really. It’s just complicated. I need to tell you about some stuff, and I’d like your advice on something.”

  “Okay.” Nash moved away. “Let’s talk.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather eat first?”

  “No, let’s talk. It will take only a minute to grill the fish and the potatoes are ready.”

  They sat across from each other at the round table.

  Darcy took a deep breath. “All right. It’s more about Willow. My ex-husband’s fourteen-year-old stepdaughter.”

  She explained how she overheard Logan trying to convince Willow to try heroin last night. How she ran around to the other yard and kicked Logan’s hand and sent him away. How she calmed Willow—and herself—with hot chocolate and television. How she explained it all to Boyz and Autumn when they came home.

  “So,” she finished. She looked at her beer bottle. It was still full, and she’d peeled off most of the label. Nash’s expression was stormy. “I didn’t try to eavesdrop on Willow. The hedge is so thick and on their side, a tree provides a nice nook to hide in from anyone in the house….” Darcy couldn’t get a read on Nash’s thoughts. “Do you think I was wrong, to interfere?”

  Nash reared back as if she’d hit him. “Do I think you were wrong to interfere? Good God, no, Darcy. You did the absolutely right thing. Except if it had been me, I would have called the cops and slugged that asshole hard enough to break his nose. That Willow is lucky—she doesn’t know how lucky—that you were there, that you cared. Her parents sound like idiots.”

  The intensity of his response surprised her. “I know. I’m going to keep an eye on her. I’ve asked her to help me with story time at the library. I really like her, Nash. It’s just kind of odd, I guess, wanting to spend time with my ex-husband’s wife’s daughter.”

  “She’s a kid. Someone ought to keep an eye on her.”

  “Well, it’s not like I’ll be seeing her every day. Plus, I don’t know how to say this—” Darcy hesitated, tearing the last bit of label off the beer bottle. “I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m interested in Boyz. He—”

  “I don’t think that.” Nash abruptly shoved back his chair, rose, and paced away from Darcy. His hands were clenched at his side.

  She could see the tension in his shoulders. Oh, no, she thought. He’s going to tell me he’s seeing someone else. She waited.

  “Look,” Nash said suddenly, turning to face her. “I don’t talk about this to anyone. And I don’t want to dwell on it. You don’t need to say anything. But I want to tell you. Not just because of Logan and the heroin.”

  Darcy didn’t move a muscle. She had no idea what he was going to say, and the need to know burned like a fire in her heart.

  Nash stared at the horizon as he spoke. “I had a brother. He died of an overdose of heroin. He was twenty-two.”

  “Oh, Nash. That’s awful.” She sat quietly for a moment. “What was his name?”

  “Edgar. What a hell of a name. Grandfather’s.” Nash sat down in his chair, his eyes looking far away. “We used to call him ‘Edsel’ because of the car thing, you know, Nash and Edsel. Our family lived in western Mass. Dad taught at Amherst. Mom did the mom thing. We were a typical more or
less happy family. I’d just joined a law firm and moved to Boston. I had an apartment near BU. Edsel hadn’t finished college yet. He’d been using for three years but I didn’t have a clue. I thought he was bored, because he was really smart. He was scary smart. He started and stopped going to college several times. When I found out, I thought if he came and lived with me, in Boston, you know, where no one knew what a fuckup he was, where there were lots of colleges, and I could keep an eye on him…” Nash set his elbows on the table and leaned his head in his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “I was such an asshole. Going off in my fucking suit and tie, carrying my fucking briefcase. But he was cool about it. I told him to use my laptop to look for jobs. When I got home at night I’d fix dinner or bring takeout, and we’d eat and watch TV and make stupid jokes and drink beer.”

  Darcy leaned as far as she could over the table. She could barely hear Nash. It was as if he was talking to the ground.

  “He told me he had a job, just grunt work at a removal firm. I believed him. He’d come home exhausted, he’d tell me about the guys he worked with. Man, Edsel was a major bullshit artist. About a week after he ‘started work,’ I came home and found him on the bathroom floor with a needle in his arm. I called an ambulance right away. They got there fast, but he was gone.”

  “Oh, Nash. I’m so sorry.”

  Darcy watched Nash, trying to read his face, his posture. What should she do? He seemed so alone, and he was so near she could almost touch him. She wanted to go to him, to embrace him. But she knew his sorrow belonged to him, he held it close to him, it was huge and dreadful and the best she could do was respect his grief. She sat quietly, waiting.

  Finally Nash looked up at Darcy. His expression was bleak. “So, yes, I believe you did the right thing with the girl.” He rose, walking over to the grill. “The coals are almost ready.”

  “I’ll get the salad.” Darcy respected his need to change the subject. She tossed the salad, then set out the plates and utensils he’d brought to a side table.

  Nash closed the grill. “Five minutes.”

  Darcy cocked her head. “One thing, Nash.”