by Marta Brown
I blow Lane a kiss before running across the peninsula, through the tall sea grass, and onto the beach in front of my house. I steal a quick glance back at the lighthouse and take a deep breath, biting my lip at the thought of us wrapped around one another. A perfect night.
“Ashley Elizabeth Whitmore.” I whip my head around at the sound of my name being growled from the deck above me. “Get yourself inside this house right now,” my father says, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, his knuckles bone-white and anger written all over his face.
An almost perfect night.
Chapter 15
Lane
As I drive, I squint from the glare of the rising sun bouncing off the water. I’m thankful my shift at the club doesn’t start until six tonight. Pulling a night shift at the lighthouse and then a day shift at the club is brutal.
I fully plan on sleeping the day away and if I’m lucky I’ll dream about the way Ashley felt in my arms. Just thinking about her in that tiny white nightgown, her shoulders bare and tan, and her hair falling all around me is driving me crazy. It got pretty hot and heavy pretty fast and even though everything in me was screaming to keep going, I knew we needed to cool off. Stupid conscience.
I shake my head, trying my best to think about baseball or something else less exciting, but it’s almost impossible to get her out of my mind.
I pull into the gravel space beside the house so I can come in through the side door and not wake anyone. I want to fall onto the couch and get some serious zzz’s. Working three jobs and then filling any and every possible free minute I have with Ashley is wearing me out, but I’m not complaining. I’d work five jobs and give up sleep altogether if it means I get to keep spending time with Ashley now and in the fall at school.
I toss my keys in the air and catch them while I walk to the door when my phone buzzes with a text message. Who would be texting me at six in the morning? Please don’t be Mr. Billings. I don’t think I can manage pulling another double on no sleep. I’m surprised to see it’s from Ashley. Maybe she can’t stop thinking about us too. I open the text while unlocking the door. I stop abruptly, leaving the keys dangling in the lock.
911
This can’t be good. I hit the A on my keypad to speed dial Ashley then pace the gravel waiting for her to pick up.
“Lane,” she says, but I can barely hear her she’s talking so quietly, her voice muffled.
“Is everything okay?” I ask before I hear her sniffle. Is she crying? “Baby, what’s wrong?” The knot in my stomach twists with worry. Did I do something?
“I got caught sneaking out. Well, in actuality I got caught sneaking back in.” She sniffles again. “My parents are so mad. They’ve been yelling at me for over an hour.”
I run my hands through my hair taking a huge sigh of relief. “You scared me half to death.”
“I’m sorry… I’ve just never really been in trouble before…” she says slightly embarrassed.
“Well? How bad is it?” I try not to let the smile on my face show in my voice, but I can’t help it. It doesn’t surprise me she’s never really been in trouble before; she’s kinda perfect that way.
“I don’t know yet, but they threatened to not let me see you anymore.” Her voice cracks like she’s on the verge of tears again. “They said they heard that I’ve been running around town acting like a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Can you believe that? I bet Kiki Newhall said something to them. I swear they’re convinced you’re some kind of delinquent who’s going to ruin my life.” I can hear the anger building in her every word. “They don’t even know you.”
I lean back against the side of my car, the knot in my stomach doubling with a mix of anger and worry. This is exactly what Mom has always warned me about. The summer stays don’t care how hard you work or what you’ve accomplished, if you’re a local, you’re a nobody.
I run my hands down my face to try to calm down. They don’t know me and when they do they’ll see I’m not some delinquent. I hope.
“Baby, don’t worry,” I say, trying to sound self assured, but knowing her parents may never accept me—no matter what. Maybe the 911 text wasn’t all that uncalled for. This is beginning to feel like an emergency.
I don’t want to lose Ashley because of a stupid rumor or preconceived notion about locals her parents might have. I can’t. I need them to see, for themselves, how much I care for Ashley and that I’m far from being a delinquent. I mean, I’m going to Yale after all, they’ll have to at least give me some credit. Right?
“I should meet them,” I offer. “They just need to get to know me. See how much you mean to me. See I’m going places,” I say confidently.
“Well that’s good, because they’re insisting on meeting you. I’m so worried they’re going to be awful.”
“It’s going to be fine, I promise,” I say, trying to reassure her and myself at the same time. “I have to work tonight, but I have tomorrow night off.”
“Okay.” Ashley sniffles, but sounds less upset now. “I’ll let them know. I better get off the phone, I’m grounded until otherwise notified by my father.”
“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say before hanging up the phone and shoving it back in my pocket.
Great.
I rub my eyes, exhausted and hoping I’ll be able to sleep at all now that I know I have to meet Ashley’s parents. I have a feeling it’s not going to be as easy as it was when she met mine. But it’s imperative I get them to see I’m good for Ashley, and I have a bright future ahead of me. I just hope that’s not easier said than done.
I’m able to sleep, but it’s restless, to say the least. I toss and turn on the couch for hours before the noise of the house and the worry about tomorrow wakes me up.
I stumble into the kitchen, tired and stressed.
“Oh, my boy, you look terrible. Why don’t you go back to sleep in my room for a little while,” Grandpa offers, eyeing me as I slump into a chair at the kitchen table.
“Thanks, Grandpa… but there’s no hope.”
“Uh-oh. Girl problems?” Grandpa asks, sliding me a cup of coffee across the table.
“You could say that.”
I move through the rest of the day like a zombie, but luckily for me, the night is so busy at the club I barely have time to breathe, let alone worry about anything besides the matter at hand. Dishes and lots of them.
Ashley calls right as I’m getting off of my shift and just seeing her name lit up on the screen of my phone makes the tension in my shoulders release. This has got to be a good sign, right?
“Hi, baby.”
“Hi,” she says back and I can tell she’s smiling, but something in her voice sounds just a little off.
“Is everything okay?”
“I wanted to let you know dinner will be at six sharp tomorrow night. Will that work?” Her tone is formal, so I assume her parents are in the room or monitoring the call. My hope that the anger over her sneaking out had passed, which would definitely make tomorrow go a whole lot smoother, is out the window.
“Uh, yeah, six will be fine,” I say even though I want to say so much more. I want to talk all night, despite my sleep deprivation, until we can’t keep our eyes open one more second, but I know I have to let her go. Hopefully not for long if I can do anything about it.
…
“Up and at 'em sleepy head,” Irene says, waking me from a deep sleep.
I peel my eyes open and squint up at her smiling face.
“Morning.” I sit up and run my hands over my face and through my hair, allowing myself another second to fully wake up.
“Breakfast is on the table and getting cold,” she says, walking back to the kitchen.
The smell of bacon wafting through the house makes my mouth water. “Irene, you didn’t have to do that.” I follow her into the kitchen and take a seat at the table.
“I know I didn’t.” She winks. “Mr. Frank and I are headed out for the day and your m
ama is at work, so eat up and enjoy the peace and quiet.”
I pop a crispy piece of bacon in my mouth and give Irene a huge grin. “Mmmmm,” I hum, drowning my stack of pancakes in maple syrup. “Thanks again, Irene,” I mumble with my mouth full.
She shakes her head at me all the way out the front door, making me laugh. I reach for the sticky carafe again. There can never be enough syrup.
On the table, underneath my napkin, is a letter addressed to me, return address Yale.
Yes.
I hope it’s the work study info I’ve been waiting on. Best case scenario I’m working with the athletic department; worst case, the dining hall. I think I’ve served enough food in my life. But whichever one, as long as it helps pay the tuition, I’m good.
I carefully tear open the envelope and pull out the piece of paper. I unfold it one handed while I cut a huge piece of pancake and shove it in my mouth with my other, scanning the letter while I chew.
Simultaneously the room begins to spin uncontrollably as my heart speeds up to what feels like a dangerous level of beating, and my eye sight starts to blur.
A thin layer of sweat covers my entire body as I drop the letter to the table. I shove backwards in my chair, causing a scraping sound on the linoleum floor that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I run to the bathroom as quickly as I can.
Falling to my knees, I wrap my arms around the cold toilet and throw up the entire contents of my stomach while the words character, standards, behavior, scholarship and rescinded all slam against my skull like a sledge hammer causing me to dry heave. Repeatedly.
All my hard work in the shitter.
Chapter 16
Ashley
I can’t stop pacing the foyer waiting for Lane to arrive. It’s been barely twenty four hours since I’ve seen him, but it feels much longer considering I’ve spent most of those hours in my room, staying away from my parents the best I can.
The strike of our grandfather clock startles me. It’s six on the dot. “Please be on time, please be on time,” I whisper to myself as the sound of the clock chimes again and again. My parents are sticklers for punctuality and tonight will be difficult enough if they’re not already annoyed if Lane is late. I hear the faint sound of a car door shut followed by a soft knock at the door. I take a deep breath of relief. Right on time.
My heart picks up speed, and I wonder if Lane is more nervous for dinner with my parents than I am, but it’s doubtful. I pull open the door and my question is answered. Lane is definitely more nervous. His face is pale and lifeless, and there’s no light in his eyes, they’re flat and full of worry.
I reach out and take his hand. “Hi,” I say, pulling him through the doorway and giving him a soft smile. His smile back is weak and empty. Wow. He really is nervous.
I want to say something, anything, that will make this less nerve-wracking for him, but I don’t want to mislead him that this dinner is going to be anything other than an inquisition. Luckily, for him it won’t last forever. Two hours tops and he’ll be able to escape, unlike me, who is grounded for the unforeseeable future.
I lean in to give him a small kiss before walking into the living room for the formal introductions to my parents, but he pulls away looking anxious. “Baby, I need to talk to you.”
I place my hand against Lane’s cheek hoping it will help calm him, even if only a fraction. “About how much you don’t want to be here? I can tell.” I smile to show him he’s not alone. “This isn’t going to be fun for either of us, but you look like you’re about to go in front of a firing squad,” I say, trying to break the tension. “They’re going to love you, just as soon as they get to know you.” More than anything I hope that’s true.
“No, it’s not just that. I…uh…well, I just found out I’m not going to be able to go to—”
“So, you must be Lane,” my father says, his booming voice interrupting Lane.
Lane’s face becomes a whole shade whiter than it already was as he attempts to put on a confident smile, but all I can see is trepidation and fear pouring off of him.
“Uh…yes, sir. I mean… hello, sir. It’s nice to meet you.” Lane reaches out to shake my dad’s hand and I can see it tremble slightly.
“Yes, well, I would have rather met you under circumstances that did not involve my teenage daughter waltzing in at sunrise,” my father says bluntly, leaving Lane’s hand hanging in midair. “I do hope that’s not typical behavior we can expect from you?” he asks, leveling Lane with his stare. “That is, if we allow you and Ashley to see each other again.”
That didn’t take long.
I take Lane’s hand and give it a squeeze. We’re in this together. My father’s eyes dart to our joined hands and his jaw tightens.
This is going to be one long night.
“Come in and meet my mother,” I say. It’s the only thing I can think to do before the tension gets any thicker. I pull Lane past my father and down the hallway to the living room mouthing the words, ‘I’m so sorry.’ He gives me a blank stare back.
This is not good.
My mother stands from her chair when we enter the room and gives Lane a once over without an ounce of subtlety, and I can already see her comparing him to Gregory.
“Mother, this is Lane. Lane, this is my mother, Evelyn.”
“Mrs. Whitmore, please,” my mother says. I have to stop myself from choking on how starkly opposite she is from Lane’s mother. I didn’t miss the fact that Lane’s mom took time warming up to me, especially after learning I was here summering with my family, but my mom is being downright frosty.
“Mrs. Whitmore, it’s nice to meet you. You have a lovely home, thank you for having me over,” Lane says politely, but slightly robotic.
My mother scrutinizes him from head to toe. He’s wearing the same outfit he wore on our first date minus the tie, which looks a lot like the club uniform. This is not lost on my mother.
‘Did you just come from work?” she asks, and by the way she spits the word, you’d have thought work was a different kind of four letter word.
Lane looks down at his outfit, embarrassment on his face. “No, ma’am,” he says, releasing my hand and fiddling with his white shirt even though it’s fine. He looks handsome and is dressed no different than Andrew would be when meeting a girl’s parents, except for possibly wearing a dress coat. Nice casual.
Nervous chatter bubbles up in my throat. “Lane also works at the lighthouse,” I say to alleviate the momentary silence that has filled the room and to highlight Lane’s work ethic.
“Yes, Ashley we are well aware that he works at the lighthouse considering that is where you were traipsing home from yesterday morning,” my father says, crossing the room.
Oops.
He pours himself and my mother a glass of wine before motioning us to sit down. My legs feel like jello from all my pacing, so I’m happy to oblige.
“So, Lane,” my father says, still standing when he speaks, causing us both to crane our neck, “tell us a little about you.”
“Uh, well, sir,” Lane stammers. “I grew up here on the island, in Oaks Bluff, and I…uh…well you already know I work at the club and the lighthouse,” he finishes abruptly, seeming unsure what to say next while wringing his hands.
“And your family? What does your father do?”
Lane’s eyes settle on his feet. “Uh, my dad…isn’t really around.”
“Oh,” my father says like he’s not at all surprised by this admission and maybe even a bit smug that all of his assumptions are seemingly spot on in his mind.
“Lane lives with his mom and grandpa, and he’s great,” I say. “He owns the McCarthy Fish Co. downtown.”
“Well, my mom actually owns and runs it now because my grandpa has some health issues,” Lane clarifies for my parents. “But…yeah my grandpa started it over 30 years ago. He’s one of the island’s biggest employers.”
“Well it sounds like your grandfather is quite the accomplished b
usiness man,” she sips her wine, seeming to choose her words carefully, “for a small town. And do you plan on going into the fishing trade as well?” my mother asks, walking to my father’s side. Both of them still standing, looming above us, intimidating and formal.
“Actually, Mother, Lane is attending Yale in the fall, just like I am,” I say curtly.
I look at Lane expecting to see him right his spine with confidence at his achievements, but all I see is shallow pallor. He looks positively green.
“I uh…have been accepted to Yale in the fall, ma’am,” Lane says, staring at his feet again and I wonder why he seems so uncomfortable. This is his golden ticket, so to speak, to win over my parents. Yale is not only my father’s alma mater, but also my grandfather’s and his father’s before him, all Yale men. If anything is going to impress my parents into accepting Lane, it’s this.
“Well, that is something,” my father says slightly less judgmental.
It’s about time.
“Thank you, sir.” Lane says, swallowing hard.
I sense his mouth must be as dry as mine now that I’m able to finally take a breath; I think the worst is past. “Do you want some water?”
Lane pulls at his shirt collar like it’s suddenly too small. “That would be great. Thank you,” he answers but there’s something in the way his eyes look that seems sad. And scared.
I smile to reassure him he’s doing great before getting up.
I feel a brief moment of relief away from my parent’s judgmental eyes as I watch the ice crack and rise in the glass of water, then immediately feel bad for leaving Lane all alone. I take a small sip to wet my mouth before walking back into the lion’s den.
“So, do you plan on rushing one of the fraternities or any of the other social clubs?” my father asks Lane when I walk back into the room. “You know Andrew is a Wolf Head, it might do you some good to get to know him.”
“Actually, Daddy, Lane and Andrew are already friends. That’s how Lane and I met.”
