by Nancy Thayer
“Wait, what?” Willow interrupted. “I don’t love Justin Timberlake.”
“Meghan Trainor,” Darcy quickly suggested.
“Fine, then,” Mimi said. “Think of loving Meghan Trainor. When you think of her, or of what’s his name, that muscular man that starred in In the Heart of the Sea—”
“Chris Hemsworth!” Willow almost shouted.
“Good. When you think of Meghan and Chris, you’re happy. You’re filled with such joy at their existence, it makes life almost magical. But if you had to be responsible for their health and safety, for what they eat every day and when their dentist appointments are and if you read in a newspaper or online that someone thinks Meghan or Chris is stupid or ugly or lame”—Mimi’s eyebrows rose in triumph as she thought to use the word lame—“you’d be sad and angry that someone said something mean, and you’d be exhausted from buying their food and cooking their meals and driving them to dentist appointments. But you’re not responsible. You can love without protecting. If you ignore a skein of yarn or drop it on the floor or even step on it, it’s not going to get its feelings hurt.”
Willow pulled on her lower lip. “So you mean you can’t love anyone without getting hurt.”
“Not quite that,” Mimi corrected. “More like you can’t love anyone without the possibility of getting hurt, and not by the person you love but by, let’s call it, circumstance.”
“But what if you get in a terrible fight? What if you’ve done something wrong?” Willow asked.
“All parents fight,” Susan said. “And no one’s perfect. No one. When you love someone, you have to accept their faults.”
“Not completely true,” Darcy argued. “You can walk away from some of their faults, especially if that includes dealing heroin.”
“Well, that’s a little extreme,” Susan said. “I mean, to bring it right back to the personal level, I’m not unaware of what a prick Otto can seem like. Excuse my language, Willow. I know he doesn’t know how to play with his sons. But I know how his parents brought him up, and I know a lot of intimate stuff about him that other people don’t know. So I love him, as they say, warts and all.”
“Thank heaven!” Mimi clapped her hands together. “I’m so glad to know that, Susan. Still,” she continued, setting her piercing gaze on Susan, “people can change. Not by, let’s say, a mile or even a yard. But by an inch.”
“How—” Willow began.
Mimi interrupted her. “My dears, I do believe the vodka has mellowed me right into a mind slump. I need to close my eyes and take a nap.” A cough shook her frail body. She put her hand to her mouth. “Excuse me.”
Willow, Susan, and Darcy stood.
“I’m sorry if we tired you,” Susan said. She leaned over and kissed Mimi’s forehead.
“Me, too,” Willow echoed, also kissing Mimi’s forehead.
“You’re wonderful,” Darcy told Mimi. She kissed Mimi’s forehead.
Mimi sank back, her eyes closed, and her body sagged into the embrace of her pillows. The three guests quietly saw themselves out, into the sunny late afternoon.
Darcy hugged Willow and whispered, “Feel better about your parents now?”
“Yeah, I guess I kind of do,” Willow replied. “I’ve got a lot to think about.”
“Call me if you need a referee,” Darcy joked.
Willow snorted. “See you later,” she called, heading down the narrow path next to Darcy’s hedge.
Darcy and Susan waved.
“She’s a nice girl,” Susan said. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”
Darcy nodded. “She’ll need it.”
“True. You don’t think of having that kind of conversation on a beach day,” Susan said. Leaning over, she kissed Darcy’s cheek. “We’re all going to be fine, Darcy.”
Darcy nodded, but she wasn’t sure that Susan was right.
21
Sunday, Darcy didn’t go to the beach. Jordan pleaded with Darcy to come, even if Nash was there, even if Nash wouldn’t speak to Darcy. The beach wasn’t only Nash’s, Jordan insisted, and the group were Darcy’s friends as much as Nash’s. But Darcy was in an introspective, sulky kind of mood. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to let her feelings about all her neighbors sort of stew in the back of her mind, because, really, that was all she could do. She couldn’t expect Mimi and Willow and Susan never to leave the island. She couldn’t solve everyone’s problems—she couldn’t even solve her own problems! She had made an effort with Nash, and he had rebuffed her. She wasn’t going to embarrass herself, if he didn’t want to forgive her, at least to hear her out….
What a mess of a summer!
She knew from experience to force herself to do some kind of mindless household task when she was wallowing in self-pity, so she put a bandana around her head and worked in the garden, weeding and deadheading and watering. The day was hot, but her huge old trees cast shade on part of her yard, and she didn’t mind the heat, really, it felt cleansing somehow. At first she worried that something would happen in one of the adjoining gardens—Mimi would fall or Willow would meet Logan near the hedges or Otto would storm at his sons. But all she heard from her neighbors were a few voices and then slamming of car doors as the Brueckner family set off for the beach.
In the late afternoon, Darcy surveyed her kingdom with her hands on her hips and patted herself metaphorically on the back for a job well done. She put away her tools, stepped out of her gardening clogs, and took a long, blissful shower. It was always such an emotional lift, working hard physically all day and then bathing, massaging body lotion into her tanned limbs, slipping into her silk kimono, and feeling the healthy ache of well-used muscles. She poured herself a glass of wine and prepared a platter of treats—cheese, crackers, olives, sliced peppers, carrots, bluefish pâté, and smoked salmon—to munch while she curled on the sofa and read. Muffler sat on the back of the sofa, patting her face with one gentle paw, claws neatly tucked in, reminding her he also liked bluefish and salmon.
“What a pest you are,” Darcy said. She got up, put some salmon and bluefish pâté in his bowl, then went back to her book.
The book was a mystery, engaging and suspenseful, and she passed the lonely evening without trying to call Nash, without phoning Jordan to see if Nash had been at the beach, without crying. She was proud of herself, in a miserable sort of way.
PBS’s Masterpiece Theatre was about to begin when a knock came at her front door.
Nash! It had to be Nash. He’d missed her too much, he wanted to talk with her—
She almost tripped on her own feet to get to the front hall.
She yanked the door opened. Boyz stood there.
He wore shorts and a blue-checked shirt, untucked, sleeves rolled up, the pale blue of the shirt setting off his pale blue eyes.
“Darcy, could I come in? I need to talk to you.”
Darcy hesitated.
“Please?” He seemed earnest, not in game-playing mode. “It’s about Willow.”
“Willow? Is she okay?”
“Yes, but…” Now Boyz hesitated.
Darcy pulled the door wide. “Come in.”
She led him into the living room where the signs of her single life were laid out before him—the glass of wine with only an inch left to drink, the plate of munchies for one, the book lying on the sofa, its bookmark protruding like a small sign of someone’s overorganized, tidy, and lonely life.
Boyz chose a chair across from the book. Darcy returned to her place on the sofa. She waited, not speaking.
“You look good, Darcy,” Boyz began.
Darcy cut him off with a quick shake of her head. “No. Stop. You came here to talk about Willow. Right? What about Willow?”
Boyz smiled charmingly and nodded in agreement. “Of course. Willow. The thing is, she’s gotten very attached to you over the summer. You must be aware of that.”
Darcy nodded, and her posture softened. “I’m fond of her. She’s a special girl.”
&nb
sp; “Autumn and I are grateful to you for all you’ve done, taking her under your wing, getting her involved with the library, with story time, with your friends. You have been incredibly kind.”
“It hasn’t been kindness, Boyz. Willow is a wonderful young woman. She’s bright and funny and generous. You and Autumn should be proud.”
The Nantucket newspaper, the Inquirer and Mirror, lay on the coffee table, neatly folded. Boyz gestured to it. “We saw Logan Smith’s name in the recent court report. He was caught dealing drugs.”
“Yes. I saw that.”
“This is such a worrisome time in our lives. I mean, Willow is a teenager, and although you have so marvelously averted what could have been a tragedy with Logan Smith and his heroin, well, we’re aware that similar situations are waiting for her everywhere back in Boston.”
“All parents of teenagers face that possibility,” Darcy told him. “I’m sure there are many support groups in Boston. I know there are—”
Boyz chuckled, looking satisfied, as if he’d caught Darcy in a familiar embarrassing act. “Books, right? You were going to advise me to read some books.”
He’d pushed her buttons—the same ones he had manipulated when they were married, subtly disparaging her work and her passion for reading. For one quick moment, Darcy felt anger shoot up in her chest, and she almost let it take her over. But she breathed deeply, sat back on the sofa, and let her anger evaporate.
“That wouldn’t be the worst thing you could do,” she replied gently, as if she were wise and he was a bit of an idiot.
Boyz patted his chest, smoothing a nonexistent tie, always a sign he’d been rattled. His voice was almost angry when he spoke. “I didn’t come here to argue.”
Darcy shrugged and said nothing. She was a librarian after all, and she had learned the power of silence. And it was a lovely feeling, that moment when at last she kept silent and didn’t rise to his bait, didn’t blurt automatically, I wasn’t arguing!, which would be arguing.
Finally, Boyz conceded gracefully. “Yes. Sorry. I’m getting off topic.”
This was fun, Darcy thought, not speaking. This was having a bit of control. So she said nothing.
“You’re making this hard for me, Darcy,” Boyz said.
Darcy laughed out loud. “Boyz, why are you here?”
“Because we—Autumn and I—were hoping you could continue to be part of Willow’s life after we leave the island.”
Darcy blinked. She was truly shocked by his words. “Boyz, I would like that very much. But what can I do? I suppose I could invite her down here on weekends, especially the long weekends like Columbus Day, for the Cranberry Festival….” She cocked her head, envisioning the coming months.
Boyz leaned forward, his face alight. “Yes, of course, but we were thinking of more than that. We’d like to offer you an apartment in Boston, right in Back Bay. You could use it whenever you wanted, and you could take Willow to plays and galleries and for tea at the Ritz, whatever.”
Something was wrong here. It brought a sour taste to her mouth, as if she’d eaten something rotten. Darcy was suspicious. “Boyz, all that isn’t for me to do. That’s what Autumn and you should do, or Willow could go with her friends. Especially Willow could go with her girlfriends.”
Darcy was only slightly surprised when Boyz rose from his chair, came around the coffee table, and lowered himself so close to Darcy, their legs touched.
She drew her legs away, to the side.
Boyz turned toward Darcy. Reaching out, he took both her hands in his. “Darcy—”
Darcy pulled away. “Come on, Boyz, don’t do this. It’s not worthy of you.”
“But just think,” Boyz implored. “Think of what you and I could do. We could have a little love nest—”
“You’ve got to be kidding!” Darcy tried to rise, but Boyz held her hands tightly.
“Tell me you don’t still feel attracted to me.”
“I don’t feel the slightest bit attracted to you.” Darcy shot off the words like bullets.
Boyz smiled patronizingly. He nodded his head toward the coffee table. “Wine for one? All those clever little bites for one? Very brave of you, Darcy, not to give into the sadness of being single and simply eat takeout or a container of ice cream.”
Darcy jerked her hands away. “Boyz, you’re giving me whiplash here. I thought you were concerned about Willow—”
“I am! Of course I am. But, gorgeous girl, when I see you, I can’t help wanting to hold you in my arms again—”
Boyz lunged forward to embrace Darcy, to pull her to him. He lowered his mouth in a clumsy attempt to kiss her. Darcy squirmed, put both hands on his chest, and pushed him away. Her blood heated, and she knew her face was flushed. How had she ever loved this shallow excuse for a person? And what in the world had she done this summer to make him believe she wanted to have sex with him? She struggled free. She stood up.
“Boyz, you need to go. Now.” She moved toward the door.
Boyz cast a desperate look at Darcy. Then he folded over, his arms tight against his stomach, as if he’d been stabbed.
Darcy made a face. “Oh, for God’s sake, Boyz, this is over the top.”
Boyz dramatically lowered his head, catching his breath. He stood. “Just let me…I won’t….” He walked toward Darcy. He put his hands on her shoulders and positioned himself to look her directly in the eye. “Darcy. Autumn is pregnant.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, Boyz! Congratulations!” Darcy attempted to step away, but Boyz held on tight. Like a drowning man holding to a lifesaver.
“She just found out.” The light went out of Boyz’s eyes. “I mean, just today. They can do that now, you know. They’ve invented kits so you can find out if you’re pregnant when you’re only barely pregnant. I mean, Autumn’s missed one period. That’s all, one. She is absolutely like clockwork with her period, twenty-eight days almost to the hour, boom, here’s her period. She missed her period, and she bought a test at the pharmacy and she took it.”
“Okay,” Darcy said slowly.
“She’s pregnant.”
“Okay,” Darcy said again. “I don’t see the problem, Boyz. You always wanted children. You’re the heir, the future patriarch of the Szweda family.”
Boyz released Darcy. He turned away. With his back to her, Boyz muttered, “The child can’t be mine.” He sounded as if he were about to cry.
The name popped right into her mind. Otto Brueckner.
“Oh, Boyz,” she said, restraining herself from going to him. “What a ridiculous thought.”
“No. Not ridiculous at all. I had myself tested this spring. I have something called idiopathic oligospermia. It means I don’t have a huge concentration of sperm in my semen. I mean, I’ve got some, but not the million like I should have.”
“Oh, Boyz, I’m so sorry,” Darcy said, and she truly was. “Is there a cure?”
He shook his gorgeous silver-blond head. “I’m taking vitamin C and zinc and eating a high-protein diet. I was planning to try some serious drugs, but Autumn’s already pregnant and the chances are low that I’m the father…” He was on the point of tears. “And Darcy, you never got pregnant when we were married.”
He didn’t need to say it: Autumn was probably pregnant with another man’s baby. Boyz turned to face her. Tears shimmered in his eyes.
Darcy’s thoughts raced. What responsibility did she have here?
Maybe her responsibility was simple: She could tell the truth.
“Boyz, I have a confession to make. It’s important.”
“Tell me.”
“When we were married, all the time we were married, I was on the birth control pill.”
Boyz stared at her, blank faced.
“I mean, I never stopped taking the pill. I didn’t get pregnant because I took that pill every day.”
Boyz lifted his head. His face cleared. “So if you didn’t get pregnant because you were on the pill, then maybe I do have enough sperm to make
Autumn’s baby.” He rubbed his forehead, looking thoughtful. “The doctor said I have some sperm…so this baby could be mine?”
“I don’t know that. I can’t say that. All I can do is tell you the truth about why I didn’t get pregnant.”
“Why didn’t you stop taking the pill?” Boyz asked, but he didn’t speak with anger or pain. What Darcy had done in their marriage wasn’t compelling; what mattered was his marriage to Autumn, the possibility of Autumn carrying his own child.
Darcy was glad for that, glad she’d revealed her secret. “I’m not sure, Boyz. At first, I suppose, in the early months, I didn’t want to get pregnant until I sort of got my sea legs in your family. I wanted to be part of your family, but you are all so powerful, so convinced of your own importance, and so tangled together. I couldn’t find a way to get in. As time went on, I realized I didn’t love you, not really, and you didn’t really love me. We were young, we had dreams, but we were so different, you and I. We wanted such different things.”
“Okay. I guess I can understand. Although people do have babies when they aren’t prepared for them. Babies can come at inconvenient times.”
Darcy smiled at Boyz. “That’s true. They can also come at convenient times.”
“So you’re saying since I want a child, I should stay with Autumn and let her go through the pregnancy. There’s a chance the child is mine.”
“I’m not saying anything,” Darcy insisted. “Whatever you decide is for you and Autumn to discuss, and by the way, I believe it’s Autumn’s decision about going through with this pregnancy, not yours. Or not yours alone.”
“I know, feminist blah-blah-blah,” Boyz muttered.
Darcy watched her ex-husband struggling to come to terms with it all. “I suppose another option you have is to divorce Autumn. After all, she’s been unfaithful to you.”
Boyz’s face cleared. “I couldn’t do that, Darcy. I love Autumn.” All of a sudden, he looked strong and sure. “Darcy, thank you for telling me about your, um, secret. It helps me a lot to know that.”
“And no hard feelings?” Darcy asked.
