Two Weeks in August

by Nat Burns

  Rhonda. Nina missed her so much. It was sad to realize that she would never again see Rhonda’s lean cheeks crease as she laughed at Nina’s bookish ways. Never smell the expensive scent she wore, designed especially for her by her father’s perfumery, and never again feel her possessive kisses.

  Distracted by persistent thoughts of Rhonda, Nina suffered a momentary confusion at the first stoplight she encountered. Did she want to go left or right? This was only her second trip alone to the island and she regretted those oblivious days of gaping at the scenery while her mother or father drove. Her most recent solo trip, to attend Grandpapa Tom’s funeral, had passed in a somber fog.

  A large truck slowed behind her and habit pulled her car to the right, onto North Main Street. The sight of familiar tourist shops inundated her, narrow storefronts crowded crazily into their brothers, each window loudly touting the goods within. As a child, Nina had wandered through these stores on scuffed flip-flops, access freely granted by proprietors who knew her by name or as Freda’s “gull,” the island equivalent of girl. The wild colors in the stores had amazed her; still did today. Nothing in life compared to the bright neon of beach colors and she experienced a pleasant thrill of recognition and longing each time she spied them, no matter where she was.

  She passed Dean’s Fish Fry where Grandpapa Tom had eaten religiously every Wednesday evening, where Nina and her mother always did as well, whenever they were on the island. Once they’d even ventured out into the empty streets during a hurricane watch just to eat at Dean’s. And strangely enough, Dean and his wife, Early, had cooked for them and for the two or three other brave souls who had ventured out under leaden skies.

  “I’d just as soon die eating Dean’s hush puppies and crab legs than at home,” her Grandpapa had stated that night, the words accompanied by a hearty laugh.

  Nina smiled at the memory and confidently turned right at the next stoplight.

  Here, on Church Street, a different, less busy scene met her eyes. Small groups of rental cottages framed the occasional restaurant, and many private homes, all quaint and well maintained, spread out in welcoming harmony. Sporadic human voices carried to her through open windows, highlighting the constant screech of the gulls. The noise of the sea birds had already become barely discernible background noise, she noted; she had to pay attention to hear them now. Smoke from numerous charcoal grills inundated her senses, making her mouth water just from the memories evoked by the scent. She waved to friends and strangers alike as she passed them by.

  Salt marsh stretched to her left, rare on this Assateague side of the island, appearing in certain choice inlets only. The ripe smell of low tide took over and it was like a subtle pheromone, engendering peace in her. Chincoteague.

  A fresh burst of hot, moist air rushed across her as she coasted the main curve on Church Street and her bicycle, which she hadn’t bothered to unload, jiggled in its carrying rack on the back of her car. And suddenly there it was—her new home, left to her by Grandpapa Tom in his handwritten will.

  Her gaze roamed across the property, so soothingly familiar and full of memories. She remembered the house well, had investigated every corner of the imposing structure during the first decade of her life. The old picnic table stood sentinel on the sparse, rocky side lawn. Nina saw herself there, eating warm watermelon, a triangle-shaped slice of melon in each hand, pulp and black seeds adorning both cheeks as she chased the gulls that were circling her awaiting a tidbit. To this day, she was grateful to her mother who, though grimacing with irritation, nevertheless accepted Nina’s grass- and melon-stained clothing with equanimity.

  The large two-story house was Georgian in style, but certainly was a bastardized version, made of white-painted wood siding instead of the customary brick, and painted white. It also possessed a long veranda-type porch across the front, Virginia’s gift to the stodgy New England architecture.

  It perched on a rocky, convex curve of the island, just off Church Street, like some ancient gray and white great heron, brimming with pride and age as it stared seaward. The backdrop of the much-loved house consisted only of the pale taffy blue of the ocean sky and the darker, congested blue of the choppy channel waters.

  As Nina studied the home, aptly named The Border, she thought of all the storms it had weathered throughout its history, clinging there at the very edge of the land. This sturdy quality made the house perfect for her grandfather, who had eked out a tough but good living from the sea. Both he and the house, though battered by the elements, maintained a warm heart that remained unaffected by adversity.

  For just a moment, she saw Grandpapa mistily outlined on the porch and quickly blinked. Was it a ghost? Or simply memory become real?

  A horn sounding behind her made her realize she had stopped the car in the middle of the road. She quickly pulled onto the long gravel driveway as the car she’d detained sped away with a disparaging shout from its driver, obviously an out-of-towner.She rolled the car along the drive and parked in the front beside a long hedge laid out with borders of oyster shell. The large frame house cast a late afternoon shadow across her car.

  So this was where she would live from now on. She let the car door fall closed and walked to the corner of the house. Here was the spot. On the rare days when the wind came from the northwest she could step into this spot and the wind would snatch at her trying gleefully to strip away her clothing, her hair and anything she happened to be carrying. Today was such a day.

  Eagerly she stepped into the wind careening around the corner of the house, close to gale force due to the juxtaposition of house and channel water. She stood there a full minute allowing the buffeting winds to cleanse her and, in some ways, strip away her old life, preparing her for the new.

  Chapter 4

  The staccato sound of hammering reached Nina as she entered the house and closed the back door. A pang of new mourning stabbed through her breast. Her mother had prepared her with the news that Grandpapa had commissioned extensive remodeling on his home just before the sudden heart attack had taken his life. The intrusion still took Nina by surprise, however, and she felt unexpected hostility stir. How dare someone change Grandpapa’s dear house?

  But she was pleasantly taken aback. She had entered the house through the kitchen door and the work must have begun in this room. The refurbishing of the kitchen was almost complete and she sensed her grandfather’s strong presence. It was obvious he was the one who had orchestrated the remodeling.

  A new range gleamed from across the room but, in typical Tom fashion, it bore gas burners. Her Grandpapa had once told Nina it was because gas could be obtained more quickly after a blow.

  She smiled as she ran one forefinger over the range’s stainless finish. How he’d hated depending on the mainland for anything. She saw herself in worn denim jeans and T-shirt, her sun-reddened hair in two braids trailing along her back. Grandpapa stood cooking at the old range, a range polished so compulsively that all the metal had worn to a mesmerizing silvery sheen. Nina, a perpetual chatterbox, was asking him about the differences in gas and electric stoves, how they worked, the pros and cons. And as always, he had answered her questions with slow-moving grace and infinite patience. There were some inherent dangers that one needed to be aware of, he’d warned, such as the fact that gas could explode more quickly, but overall gas was the best choice. Electric lines stayed down but if one could get to Baylile’s grocery for a bottle of gas, one could have a hot breakfast the day after a storm.

  She felt a little better about the changes then. Just as the new kitchen bore the overabundance of natural wood Tom had favored, Nina knew his many kerosene lanterns would still be scattered throughout the house. It made Grandpapa Tom seem closer.

  Nina stepped carefully across the glossy wooden floor and peeped into the small bathroom just inside the hall door. The bath still needed work. The old broken tile had been removed and a new particleboard floor begun. The wooden vanity sat in the middle of the room, and the plumbing lines j
utting from its back made it look like a wounded animal. She backed away and a sudden whiff of disturbed Sheetrock dust made her sneeze.

  The sound of hammering stopped abruptly and a woman appeared in the alcove separating kitchen and living room. She was short and sturdy, with closely cropped dark hair and snapping black eyes. The deep copper of her skin gave her an exotic look, but the wide smile filled with white, straight teeth was all-American.

  “Hello there, can I help you?” she asked, eyes examining Nina curiously.

  “I’m Nina Christie.” She waited expectantly but the carpenter seemed puzzled so she continued, “Captain Tom’s granddaughter?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, hitting her forehead with the heel of her palm. “I’m sorry. You’re the one who called earlier. I had no idea you were so young.”

  Nina raised an eyebrow, amused. She did look younger than her twenty-four years. “I sound old, do I?”

  “Oh, no,” she replied, laughing. “I didn’t mean that. You’re just not what I expected.”

  “Well, what did you expect? Blue hair and diamonds and carefully powdered wrinkles?”

  The woman started to say something, then apparently changed her mind.

  “Well, yes,” she admitted sheepishly. “Either that, or toothy, skinny, with a penchant for expensive fashion.”

  “To tell the truth, blue hair and diamonds is a good description of my mother. She was the one who called while I was en route,” Nina said with an impish grin.

  The woman’s eyes traveled over her and Nina waited patiently for the woman to finish her inspection. Nina was small in stature, not much over five feet, and it was a pleasant change to be on eye level with someone. She couldn’t place the carpenter with any of the island families so figured she must be an import or perhaps a third generation islander. She abandoned her speculation; she was just too overwhelmed to wonder too deeply about the issue today.

  “The kitchen looks wonderful, Miss... Sheridan, is it? You did a really good job on it.”

  “It’s Amanda but call me Mander, everyone does, and thanks.” She moved into the living room, gesturing for Nina to follow. “It wasn’t as bad as I expected. The pipes were still in good shape so we didn’t replace them, just added new stuff. You’ve got a good water system here. Whoever built this house sure knew what they were doing.”

  Nina gasped as she entered the living area—the ocean seemed to leap into the room. Then she realized she was seeing it through windows and everything shifted back into proper perspective. One entire wall of the living room, the one on the channel side, had been newly constructed of wooden beams and large panes of glass. This gave the impression of actually being out on the ocean. It was an amazing effect.

  Eagerly she crossed to the windows, trying to absorb the beauty that seemed to expand the room.

  “When did he do this?” she breathed, never taking her eyes from the swelling, slate-colored waves.

  Mander moved to stand beside her, appreciating the view along with Nina. “He started it in the early spring. He said all this beauty shouldn’t go to waste.”

  “I remember two smaller windows here. That was nice enough but this, this is incredible. Did you do the work?”

  It wasn’t really the ocean, she realized, not the whole ocean, only Assateague Channel. It looked so big from this vantage point. She could see a section of Assateague Island in the distance, a blur of green against the horizon. Seagulls circled widely over the swaying waves.

  “Yes, I had a lot of help though. My crew helped me set the panes. Captain Tom was usually around too, and he was a big help.”

  “I sure do miss him,” Nina murmured wistfully.

  Realizing she was exposing too much of herself, she drew her eyes from the beauty beyond the glass and became briskly businesslike. “So, when do you think I can move in?”

  Mander adopted a similarly brisk manner. “Well, give us two more weeks. I plan to use some local workers to help with the painting while I finish the structural changes.”

  She swung the hammer she held from hand to hand. “What do you think of the way we covered up the demolition of the right wing?”

  Nina frowned, trying to coax information from memory. What exactly was she talking about? “What demolition?”

  Mander glanced at her, surprised, “Oh, you didn’t know? Your grandfather instructed me to knock off the right wing, the one on the water side.”

  She strode to the wooden door to the left of the wall of windows. “Come out here, I’ll show you what I’m talking about.”

  Full of curiosity, Nina followed. The door opened onto a brand-new wooden deck with a waist-high railing all the way around. Going out to the far edge, Nina looked down at the waves below her feet. An oyster had already attached itself to one of the pilings and salt marks had begun surrounding the two pilings that were visible. She continued to stare down, losing herself in the sway of the water.

  A loud whistle finally drew her attention back to Mander. She stood next to the house, merrily watching her. Flustered, Nina walked over, murmuring apologies.

  “See here?” she said, pointing to eaves that had obviously been extended, but with true craftsmanship. “We knocked it loose right here and brought the roof out just a little to cover it up. What do you think?”

  “I like it,” she replied. “It looks nice—like it was built that way—but why did you take Grandpapa’s bedroom off?”

  Nina couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed the change when driving up but realized her approach had been from the opposite direction.

  Mander shook her head, a smile of disbelief on her lips. “Because it was falling into the channel. The Captain said you could hear it during the night, groaning as it fell a little further into the water. I measured it when he told me about it. The whole wing was six inches lower than the rest of the house. If I hadn’t gotten it off, the stress would have eventually done major damage to the house proper.”

  Nina laughed suddenly, the sound like small bells in a gentle wind. “Oh no, that’s what he was talking about. I should have known.”

  “What?” Mander was smiling at her.

  “The last few conversations we had, he told me that the house and the ocean were talking and would soon be dating.” She lifted her eyebrows in mock bewilderment. “He laughed and wouldn’t explain when I queried him on it so I just figured he was on the way to senility.”

  “So now you know,” Mander said. “He wasn’t so far off.”

  She nodded toward the boards they were standing on. “I built this deck instead of allowing that destructive relationship to develop. A good thing, I’m thinking. Hey, do you have a boat?”

  Her sudden change of subject threw Nina off balance. “What? No, no boat.”

  “Okay. If you decide to get one though, we can make a dock out of the outer side of this decking.”

  She pointed to where Nina had been standing a moment ago. “I can open up a section there and build you a ramp going down so you can moor up. Just let me know if you want it done, okay? Tom never had a boat on the sea side, only on the bay, so he didn’t need it. By the way, where are you staying until the house is finished?” she asked as they went inside.

  The scent of the paint and plaster after the freshness of the sea breeze was giving Nina a headache. “A place called Channel Haven. Have you heard of it?”

  Mander gave a great snort of laughter. “Hell yes, everyone’s heard of the Haven. It’s Hazy Duncan’s place.”

  “Yes, she’s quite the character,” Nina said as Mander ushered her into the kitchen.

  “What do you mean? What has she done now?” Mander asked, laughing anew.

  “I just don’t know how she stays in business. Doesn’t her gruffness put everyone off?”

  Mander shrugged. “She has good days and bad. Her better half, Mama New, does most of the tourist trade, with Hazy just doing the boats and upkeep mainly. How did you happen to stay there?”

  Nina’s heart leapt just a bit.
She had sensed Hazy’s sexual orientation but certainly didn’t feel any type of kinship with her.

  “I didn’t really remember the place from previous visits here but it was recommended by Mrs. Loreli, a friend of Grandpapa Tom’s,” Nina explained. “I’d originally wanted to stay in one of Mrs. Loreli’s cottages over at Sweeping Pines but she’d already rented them all out for the season and won’t have one available till later in the week.”

  “Oh, heck, I know Emma,” the carpenter said. “The Pines stays booked a lot. I just hope you’ll do okay at Hazy’s.”

  “Why do you say that?” Nina asked studying Mander for clues.

  “You’ll see. Just remember one thing. Don’t accept anything about her at face value. She is definitely not what she seems.”

  “What do you mean by that? I don’t understand.”

  With typical island reticence, Mander would tell her no more, only pressed her lips together and shook her head, eyes twinkling gleefully.

  “Well.” Nina had to smile, Mander’s amusement was infectious. “Can you at least tell me where the place is from here? I’m afraid I don’t remember what road the cottages are on and I’ve gotten turned around. I had the address and directions in my notebook but left it at the cottage.”

  “Don’t worry about it, you know you can only get so lost on ’Teague. All you need to do to get there is follow this road out.” She pointed to her left. “Channel Haven is on the left, right before you get to Memorial Park. There’s a sign up so it’s hard to miss. Another way you can spot it is by the color. All Hazy’s cottages are painted a weird blue color, as I guess you saw. It’s pretty, but kind of shocking.”

  Mander was moving to the kitchen door, maneuvering Nina along with her. “Well, I’m off to dinner. My crew’s already gone for the day. Would you care to grab a bite with me? I know this place that serves scallops that’ll melt in your mouth.” She pulled the door closed once they were outside, shutting it possessively.