Moment in Time

by Lisa Mondello

  “I live on the South Shore.”

  He scrutinizes me for a minute. “Your accent isn’t Boston enough for you to have been here long.”

  “I’ve only been on the East Coast for a few years. I’m originally from the Midwest.”

  “What brought you here?”

  I look at him directly. “Cancer.”

  Bobby’s face turns white and I wince at being so abrupt.

  “Not mine. My grandfather’s,” I say and I instantly see the relief on his face. “Mine came later. No connection.”

  Bobby gives me a half grin at my joke attempt.

  “What made you want to come here?”

  “You mean besides the fabulous beaches and hot guys?”

  I see the twinkle in his eye but he drapes his arm over the steering wheel as if he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t think I mean him.

  “It’s expensive. You won’t save any money this summer being on the island if that’s what you’re after. In fact, I’ll be surprised if you head home at the end of the summer with a nickel still in your pocket.”

  “I’m off the hamster wheel.”

  “Isn’t that for old people who’ve been work-a-holics all their lives?”

  “Cancer has a way of speeding things up. Anyway, this summer is not about saving money. It’s about living.”

  I look over at Bobby and feel a stirring beneath my belly that I haven’t felt in a long time. Two years. And I realize, this is a nice way to start life again.

  * * *

  The gravel driveway leading from the main road to the house is narrow and lined with scrub pines, making it hard for me to see the house I’ll be living in for the next four months. But when it comes into view, I gasp. A woman in her mid-fifties is sitting on the porch steps. She’s wearing a straw hat and bulky sandals with cut-off shorts that are too long. But her wide smile shows she’s pleased to see us arrive.

  “Welcome to The Bluffs,” the woman says, standing up and spreading her arms out toward the house as if she’s showing off an appliance at some discount store.

  Bobby gives a quick wave to the woman and then glances at me. “That’s Aunt Beverly.”

  Beverly steps off the porch and onto the crushed shell walkway that leads to the house and waits for us to get out of the car.

  As I climb out of the SUV and then slam the door, Beverly says, “You must be Jenna Trapper.”

  “It’s Traynor.”

  Beverly rolls her eyes. “Sorry about that, dear. With so many girls scheduled to come out every summer, it’s hard to keep track.” She gives me a motherly smile and touches my cheek. “Now I can now put a face with that sweet voice on the phone. How was the ferry ride over? You know, a lot of the girls spend the first hour with their head staring at my commode. You don’t get seasick, do you?”

  She laughs, but I immediately get the image of bending over the toilet and puking and just the thought of it sours my stomach. I push the memory of chemo out of my mind.

  “Oh, no,” Beverly says, reaching for my arm. “I hope I didn’t jinx you.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. I’m just taken by this house. It’s so beautiful.”

  Beverly is clearly pleased with the compliment. “She’s a beauty. That’s for sure. She’s one of the smaller ones I have. The Bluffs only has four bedrooms.”

  I glance up at the windows upstairs. “Only?”

  With a quick chuckle, Beverly adds, “The Sandpiper is bigger. That house has six bedrooms. That’s a little further down the beach in the opposite direction of the Wayside Inn. I usually reserve that one for the girls who’ve been with me before because most of them already know each other and are familiar with the island. All of the girls staying in this house are new to the island. Well, at least new to staying at one of my rentals. Why are we standing here in the hot sun? Let’s get you inside and settled.”

  Bobby pulls my duffel bag from the back of the SUV and then hands it to me, earning him a disapproving look from his aunt.

  “Do you mind taking that to the upstairs room on the left of the stairs? It’s the one facing the lighthouse.”

  Beverly turns to me. “Since you’re first, you get to get the room with the best view and en suite.”

  A sudden feeling of giddiness consumes me as I look around. “I knew there was a reason I wanted to be first.”

  “A definite perk. But you’ll get the sun in the morning since you have windows on two sides of the room. Let’s have a look, shall we?”

  This house is just too beautiful and I can’t believe I’m actually going to get to live here for the summer. For some reason I’d pictured this rental being a little shack with old fixtures and nineteen-seventies paneling or wallpaper. The advertisement my friend Sissy shared with me showed the ocean view and promise of a summer job. That was all I’d needed to email Beverly.

  The day I received the email that I was actually coming to Nantucket, my cheeks hurt from smiling all day. I’d called Sissy right away and told her I could almost feel the sand between my toes as I walked barefoot in the hot sand up the beach. I’d almost felt bad for my impulsiveness. Sissy was still far from finishing her treatments. But she’d genuinely been happy for me and promised to visit as soon as she got the okay from her oncologist that it was okay to travel to the island.

  But as Beverly gives me the tour of the downstairs, I realize The Bluffs is nothing like we’d joked about on the phone. This house is like something out of a fancy home magazine with its chic white moldings and beautifully tiled kitchen and bathroom.

  I climb the stairs behind Beverly to what will be my room, my sanctuary after two years of living under cancer’s rule and my parents’ control. Beverly steps aside and lets me walk through the door to the bedroom first. The breath I’d been holding whooshed out in a rush as I see the wide windows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. I can’t remember seeing anything so beautiful. The color of the water and the bright sunshine envelopes the room before I even reach the window. Still, I’m drawn there where an overstuffed chair is facing the magnificent view, and I peek outside to the beach below. Several wooden lounge chairs sit on the sand around a stone fire pit about twenty feet from the house. The water line from high tide was midway up the beach, but the tide was further out now, revealing glassy wet sand that would dry in no more than an hour under the hot sun.

  The beach area in front of the house is filled with rocks, but a little ways up the beach it turns into fine white sand that makes the sun bounce off it.

  A small giggle bubbles up my throat. When I turn around, I see Beverly smoothing out the already neat bedspread. The smile on her face shows she’s pleased with my reaction.

  Beverly points to the window. “The Wayside Inn is just a short walk up the beach. You can see just the edge of it from your window.”

  I look out the window and see the long building about a half mile down the stretch of beach.

  “Most of the girls walk to work that way because it’s shorter and more peaceful than walking along the road. But you can have your bicycle sent over if you want to use that instead. Of course, if you have a little money to spare, you can always rent a bicycle while you’re on the island, too. My girls get a discount at the local bike shop. I have a place you can chain a bike to while you’re working.”

  “That’s cool.” I look around the room. “This bedroom is practically bigger than my living room back home. It’s beautiful.”

  Beverly is clearly pleased. She walks to the white door by the window and opens it. “This is your bathroom. It’s all yours. There’s another en suite bedroom downstairs. But the other two girls who will be staying upstairs will have to share a connecting bath.”

  Bobby appears in the doorway carrying my duffel bag. He looks at me apologetically as if he thinks I’m going to jump at him again.

  “Thanks for bringing that up. You can just put it on the bed,” I say.

  “Oh, Bobby, will you wait for me downstairs?” Beverly says. Then she turns to
me. “The postman will deliver your boxes to the house and leave them on the front porch behind the wooden chairs. He’s real good about doing that. You can’t see the porch very well from the street or the beach so they should stay undisturbed until you get home from your shift at the Wayside.”

  “When do I start?” I ask.

  “Tomorrow at seven. I’ll give you the tour and then you’re off and running. We’ll take care of all the paperwork tomorrow when you come in. As I mentioned in the email I sent, we’ll take your boarding fees for The Bluffs out of your paycheck, but you’re on your own for food. Since the rest of the girls are all arriving tomorrow, I took the liberty of stocking the kitchen with a few staples just so you won’t have to go shopping right away. The kitchen is quite big so if you like to cook, you will enjoy that. I like to be here when my girls arrive so I can introduce you all to each other and give you some basic rules. But until then, you have the house to yourself. I’ll let you get comfortable and get to know the place.”

  “Thank you so much,” I say.

  “See you tomorrow morning at seven.”

  I walk down the stairs with Beverly. Looking around, Bobby is nowhere to be found in the house. As we push out on to the porch facing the road, I find Bobby on the porch looking out into the driveway. For a second, he looks lost, as if in his mind he’s not really there. I know that look. I’ve seen it on enough cancer patients to know that’s a place you go when you want to check out. But as he turns and sees Beverly and I standing on the porch, it vanishes and he’s back there with us.

  “Do you need a ride back home, Aunt Bev?” he asks.

  She shakes her head. “I brought my bike. You know how much I like riding while the weather is still cool enough. Come July I won’t be doing it as much.”

  The two of them step off the porch and leave me standing there. I wave as Beverly gets on her bike and rides down the gravel driveway to the main road. She disappears beyond the scrub pines and shrubs, but Bobby is still sitting in his SUV. He rolls down the passenger side window and leans forward so he can see me.

  “If you want to explore the island later, I can give you a quick tour. I’m in room three-twenty-one at the Wayside.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s just if you want to. If you’ve never been to the island… Or if you just want to be alone, that’s okay, too. Tomorrow the house will be full.”

  I look at him and almost laugh as he fumbles with his words. I can’t help but think that the simple invitation is sweet. The guy is majorly hot and I wouldn’t mind spending some time with him. But the idea of solitude is almost overwhelming me.

  “I’ll remember. Three-twenty-one.”

  Bobby drives away and for a brief second I almost regret that I didn’t climb into his SUV and take him up on that offer.

  But as I turn and look at the front door, I realize the magnitude of what I have in front of me. I’m left at The Bluffs with no one and nothing but the sound of the surf coming onto the shore and a beautiful sunset to come. I breathe in the smell of the ocean air. It’s heaven.

  #

  Chapter Three

  Bobby

  “You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Aunt Beverly says, eyeing me as I limp into the main entrance of the Inn after a run on the beach. Of course she’s right. I’d already been warned by the doctor that if I push myself too hard, it’ll halt the healing process and my leg might never regain the strength it once had.

  But I’m not stopping. The ache in my knee, and calf aren’t nearly what they were a month ago.

  “It’s getting stronger,” I say, walking over to the counter where she’s looking over paperwork.

  “I can tell by the look on your face that you’re in pain.”

  “Of course I’m in pain. No pain, no gain.”

  She levels me with her stare.

  “I don’t do this every day. I give myself a day off in between to rebuild my muscles.”

  “Your father will be so upset at me if you relapse.”

  “No, he won’t. He’ll be upset with me. Look, I won’t run tomorrow, okay?”

  “Good, because the six girls staying at The Sandpiper are coming in on the early ferry tomorrow and the other girls for The Bluffs are coming in on the afternoon ferry. I could really use some help getting them settled before I go over to meet them all.”

  “Are you going to need me to do both runs? I won’t be able to fit all the girls for The Sandpiper in my SUV. As it is¸ depending on how much luggage they all have, it might be a tight fit for girls for The Bluffs.”

  “I’m having Marco pick up the girls for The Sandpiper with the van. If you could help with the afternoon run, that would be a huge help because Marco will be doing a supply run. I don’t know how I mixed up the schedule and had so many girls arriving on the same day.” She looks at me as though a thought has just occurred to her. “I have loved all the help you’ve given me around here these last few weeks but I just realized I shouldn’t assume you don’t have anything else planned. You aren’t busy, are you?”

  I want to say that I haven’t been busy since I stepped on this island, but I don’t. That would only give Aunt Beverly a reason to probe deeper.

  “I can pick up the girls for The Bluff,” I say.

  “She’s pretty.”

  I look up at Aunt Beverly and her lips are pursed into a tight pout.

  “Who?”

  “Don’t play with me. Jenna.”

  I shrug. “I see a hundred pretty girls on that beach every time I run. What’s one more?”

  “You can lie to yourself, but please don’t lie to me. I don’t like it. You noticed her. I saw it.”

  “I’m not interested in meeting girls, Aunt Bev. And I don’t want to hear another lecture about how ‘it’s time’.”

  Aunt Beverly stares at me for a lingering moment and then finally gives me a sad smile. “Okay, then I’ll drop it.”

  “Look, I’m not on Nantucket to get with any of the beach babes here. My only concern is to get the strength in my leg back so I can get back to my post in Afghanistan.”

  Aunt Beverly straightened her spine. “They might not send you back there. In fact, I hope they don’t. You’ve done your service to your country and got injured in the process. Surely you’ve paid enough dues to be stationed here in the States.”

  “I go where I’m needed.”

  Her shoulders sag, but she drops it. We’ve been through this before and she knows it’s a losing argument.

  “Well, I feel compelled to remind you that I don’t allow my girls who work here at the Inn to fraternize with the guests.”

  “Since when am I a guest?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I do. But you also know that if it weren’t for that explosion that caused this bum leg, I wouldn’t even be here.”

  She looks hurt and I know I sound ungrateful.

  “Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” I add, which seems to appease her.

  She sighs. “I wouldn’t mind your being interested in a woman. Just not my girls. It…doesn’t look right. I don’t want a scandal. It was rough enough for me to take over the Wayside Inn when Charles died. My staff and the community are finally starting to see me as though I belong here.”

  “Uncle Charles would be proud of you. If your staff doesn’t see it that way, they’re assholes,” I say. But I know appearances are important to my aunt.

  She glances around quickly and then whispers, “Watch your language. They may be assholes, but they still to work for me.” Then she laughs and reaches across the desk to pat me on the cheek. “Can I talk you into having dinner with me tonight? Bertram is making lobster pie.”

  “Maybe it’s time for you to have dinner with Bertram. Alone. I see the way your eyes twinkle when you talk about him.”

  Aunt Beverly gives me a light chuckle. “Don’t be ridiculous. Bertram is a great chef, which is why I worked so hard to steal him away from his job in Boston to work on the i
sland. Although there are some days I wonder why. His food is so good, I swear I’ll be wearing a bigger size by the end of the summer if I don’t get on that bike every day.”

  “I’m not really hungry. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind later.” She smiles, but I can tell by the slight dip of her shoulder that she’s disappointed. She doesn’t say anything more as I turn and walk toward the elevator. My stomach rumbles as the bell to the elevator rings. I can’t recall when it was I’ve eaten last. But I can only take eating at the Sand Dollar Restaurant so many times before I crave a good old fashioned hamburger with tomato and pickles.

  After a quick shower and change, I stumble down the stairway at the end of the hall. The door opens up to the back parking lot instead of the hall leading to a view of the front desk. I’d already taken my run on the beach but there was something about walking the beach at sunset that always set me to rights. After the accident in Afghanistan, it was like Nantucket had been calling to me. I willingly came despite knowing that Aunt Beverly would hover over me like a sick child.

  I hadn’t bothered putting on a pair of sneakers. And the sandals I had taken with me when I left the room hadn’t even made it to my feet. I hold them in my hand as I walk right up to the water line. As I take each step, I feel the burn in my leg and try not to wince. The burn is good. It means my muscles are healing. I’m getting stronger. And I need to get stronger so I can get clearance to get out of here and leave behind everything that reminds me of things I don’t want to remember.

  The smell of the burger stand situated on the far end of the beach gets stronger as I walk toward it. Galaxy, the local pub, already has the music turned up loud to invite people in. Pretty soon tourists will pour into the club for music and booze and whatever else they can find. I’d found a few pretty girls there on some drunken nights years ago when I’d come to the island to visit with some friends. Guilt stabs at my gut thinking about how selfish I’d been. It was never Aunt Beverly that drew me here. They were just drunken nights with my friends. We put up with Aunt Beverly’s stern lecture in the morning in exchange for a free place to crash after a wild night we could talk about when we got back home. That was a long time ago when things like that mattered.