Unforgettable Summer

by Catherine Clark

  “But I’m still mad at you,” I told Hayden. “So I probably shouldn’t.”

  “So ride behind me and spend the first hour yelling at me,” Hayden said.

  “You’re going to wear headphones, aren’t you?” I accused him.

  “I’m considering it. How mad are you?” he asked.

  “How far are we going?”

  “I don’t know. It’s up to you. I was thinking we could ride somewhere, grab some takeout, maybe hit a different beach or something.” He shrugged. “Whatever.”

  It totally went against common sense, kind of like getting a belly button pierced, as Miss Crossley saw it. I’d tried so hard to stand my ground with Hayden, to tell him what he was doing wrong. And part of me knew I shouldn’t go anywhere with him until we had another “talk.” But that wasn’t the fun, adventurous part of me. Which was screaming, What are you waiting for?

  “Whatever sounds great,” I said. “Just let me grab my backpack.”

  “This is sort of creepy.”

  “I know, isn’t it?” Hayden asked.

  We were standing outside a large hotel about five miles up the coast from the Tides Inn. But instead of looking exclusive, it looked excluded—from guests, from renovations, from everything. The white paint was peeling, a few windows were broken, and the main entrance had a door that sagged.

  “It’s like a lesson, what could happen if the Tides ever closed,” I said.

  “If it ever closed, people would buy up the land in a second. I can’t remember why the owners of this won’t sell yet, but they refuse.”

  Hayden opened the door and we walked inside the old inn. “It only closed two summers ago. Mismanagement of funds or something like that,” he explained. “Wouldn’t it be amazing to buy this place?”

  “And compete with the Tides? Peach would never forgive you,” I told him.

  “No, I suppose not. But wouldn’t that be okay?” Hayden smiled. “No, actually I like Miss C. I mean, there’s something cool about being that reliable, that consistent, all the time.”

  “Sure there is,” I said. “I just haven’t figured out what yet.”

  I heard a creaking sound and felt a shiver crawl up my spine. I’m not one to jump at the slightest noise or scare easily—usually. But something about this place was giving me the creeps.

  “Don’t worry about that sound. It only means the ghosts are out walking today,” Hayden said.

  “What ghosts?” I asked.

  “Former guests. There was a double murder here back in the seventies,” Hayden said. “People say that’s what brought bad luck to the place.”

  I laughed nervously. “Maybe C. Q. Wallace should come here if he’s still looking for material.” I stepped closer to Hayden. “Do you think maybe we could go back outside?”

  “Are you wimping out on me? That’s not like you. Come on, let’s check out the upstairs,” Hayden urged.

  “Did you ever read the book or see that movie The Shining, about that creepy deserted hotel in Colorado?” I asked. “Because this is reminding me of that.”

  “You’re not the type of person to let this scare you. Are you? I mean, are you afraid of ghosts?” Hayden asked.

  “No. Not really. But what if there are live people up here?” I asked as we ascended the creaky staircase.

  “There won’t be. The police come through here all the time,” Hayden said with confidence.

  I put my hand on his arm, trying to stop him. “Which is another reason we should go.”

  We both paused at the top of the stairs, and gazed into a room’s open doorway. “Whoa,” I exhaled. “If Uptight Knight saw this, he’d go berserk.”

  “More berserk,” Hayden said.

  “Berserkier,” I added.

  The room was stripped bare of furniture except for an old, rusted metal blanket rack, and a dust-covered desk that was missing a leg and listed to one side. A coffeemaker with mold growing inside sat on a desk, and the carpet smelled of something rotten.

  “Okay, I think I need to take a shower just from looking at this place,” I said.

  “Yeah, me too. I haven’t been here since last summer when a whole bunch of us came over,” Hayden said. “It’s a lot more, uh . . .”

  “Disgusting?” I suggested.

  “How about a swim to get the dirt off?” Hayden brushed at his arms. “This hotel has a private beach just like the Tides, and at least that can’t have gotten trashed.”

  “Let’s go!” I said. We ran down the stairs, out the front door, and down the path to a small sandy beach.

  “Where do we change?” I asked.

  “Over there.” Hayden pointed to a small beach hut connected to the hotel that looked like it could have been a cabana, once upon a time.

  “No thanks,” I said. “Not if it’s anything like the inside of that place.”

  “Good point. Here, you change behind that dune.” Hayden pointed to a grassy area that dipped down below the level of the rest of the property. I could probably conceal myself there, but still . . .

  “I don’t know. What if someone shows up?” I asked.

  “Who’s going to come here?”

  “If you know about it, don’t other people? And what if the police come by?” I asked.

  “I’ll stall them until you’re decent,” Hayden offered. He picked up my backpack from the sand and tossed it to me. “Unless you’d rather swim in your clothes? Or without them?”

  “Fat chance. I’ll be back in a minute,” I told him.

  We raced each other to be first into the ocean. It was becoming a tradition with us—except this time, for once, I won.

  I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing as I came up gasping for air. I’d definitely chosen a cold spot to dive into.

  “Did they lose their lease on decent temperature water, too?” I asked.

  “The current must be slightly different here,” Hayden said.

  “You know, I always knew the Inn was exclusive, but I mean, are they that sheltered, from even the elements of nature?” We started to swim in the deeper water.

  “You kind of have an attitude about the Inn and its guests. Do you think they’re all spoiled?”

  “Aren’t they? I don’t know. Maybe I’m just not cut out for customer service,” I said.

  We swam side by side for a few minutes, and I noticed Hayden kept glancing at the shore.

  “Why do you keep looking at the hotel? Is someone there?” I stopped swimming and treaded water.

  “No, don’t worry so much. It’s important to keep aligned with something onshore, so you don’t mistakenly go too far out. If you ever get caught in a riptide, you’ve got to swim parallel to the beach until you get out of it.”

  “I’ve heard that,” I said. “I think it happened to my grandmother once, and she swam out of it. But . . . are we in a riptide?”

  “No. More like high tide.” Hayden laughed.

  “I have to say, it’s pretty cool having my own personal lifeguard,” I said as we swam back toward shore. I reached for the ocean bottom with my feet, finally touching sand. Hayden and I stood halfway in and halfway out of the water.

  “Hold on, you’re coming untied,” he said.

  Unglued was more like it. He was standing so close to me, his hands on my shoulder as he retied the stringy strap around my neck. I held my breath. The anticipation was killing me.

  “How many swimsuits do you have, exactly?” Hayden asked. “I’ve counted three, so far.”

  “Four,” I said.

  “Oh. So I have something else to look forward to.” He ran his fingers from my suit strap down my back.

  “You could say that.” I put my hands on his strong, tanned shoulders and felt the muscles of his upper arms.

  Were we really doing this? I was so caught up in the moment that I barely had time to think. And yet I knew that I’d already decided I was ready to take this step with Hayden. But maybe I was assuming too much—maybe he wasn’t ready.

  �
�Do you think there is a PRIVACY PLEASE sign we could put on the beach?” Hayden asked.

  “Why?” I asked. “Is anyone around that we need to worry about?”

  “Just us. And maybe this will sound totally crazy, but that’s what I want. Because . . . this is going to sound dumb, okay? But I feel like I can’t get enough of you.”

  “It’s not dumb. That’s how I feel about you,” I confessed.

  We started to kiss, and then we started to shiver because the sun was setting, and a cold breeze was coming off the water.

  “We should probably go,” Hayden said.

  I knew he was right, but I hated to admit that. “Probably,” I said.

  We walked out of the water, holding hands. “The sand’s still warm, though,” Hayden observed.

  I glanced at him and smiled. I wasn’t sure I should really do this. I should either leave now or be prepared for the consequences. Was I ready for this?

  Yes.

  “I have a beach blanket.” I crouched by my backpack and pulled it out. I unfolded the blanket and shook it out, placing it on the beach. As soon as I sat down, Hayden lay down beside me. I lay back on the blanket, too.

  We looked at each other for a few seconds, as if we were both making sure we knew how serious this was getting.

  Hayden propped himself up on his elbow. He pushed a strand of my wet hair behind my ear. “I had a really good time with you today.”

  I reached up and touched him gently on the lips. “Me, too.”

  He kissed my fingers and then didn’t move for a second. He just kept looking into my eyes. “Liza?” he finally said.

  I was starting to feel nervous about what he might say. Please don’t say we should take off. I don’t want to leave now. “Hayden?” I replied, a little breathless.

  “I think . . . I think maybe I’m falling in love with you,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Good,” I said.

  He laughed. “Why is that good? It’s sort of torture if you ask me—”

  “Because I’m falling in love with you, too,” I admitted.

  “Then we’re even,” he said.

  “Even? What is this—a competition—” I started to say, but Hayden silenced me with a kiss.

  To my right, in my backpack, I could hear a beeping sound. My pager was stuffed in the outside pocket.

  I started to get up to check it, but then I stopped.

  It wasn’t about Grandpa, because they’d call my cell. So it was definitely work.

  This time, Miss Crossley would have to wait.

  I wasn’t about to leave where I was right now.

  CHAPTER 18

  “That’s the second time you haven’t responded to a page.”

  Miss Crossley had paged me to her office first thing the next morning, to yell at me for not responding to her pages.

  “The first time, I was in Newport and it was my day off,” I said in self-defense. “And this time . . . well . . .” Did she really want to know what I was up to with Hayden? I definitely didn’t want to tell her. Besides, I’d barely gotten used to admitting it to myself. “I didn’t hear it,” I said. “Honestly. It did not make a sound.”

  At least, not a sound that I wanted to hear. What is the sound of one pager buzzing? If a pager buzzes in a backpack and no one hears it . . . did it really buzz?

  My stomach made a loud grumbling noise, and I realized I needed to grab some breakfast soon—very soon. Hayden and I had never gotten around to picking up that takeout meal, and by the time we got back to the Inn, the Hull was shut down for the night. We’d snuck into the dorm, it was so late.

  “Well, if you say so. Perhaps you were out of range.” She gave me a suspicious look.

  I wasn’t about to volunteer any information about how I’d spent the evening. “Out of range” wasn’t a bad description, though. I thought about what Hayden had said: I think I’m falling in love with you.

  “All right. Let’s move on.” Miss Crossley stacked a set of papers on her desk. “Today’s assignment.”

  I loved the way she made it sound as if I were a secret agent. Secret agents didn’t do dishes or clean toilets, though. At least, not the cool ones.

  “C. Q. Wallace. You’ve become acquaintances, yes?” Miss Crossley asked.

  I shrugged. “You could say that.”

  “You have a certain rapport. And he needs someone to help him with his manuscript,” Miss Crossley said. “We’ve selected you because he already knows you, for one, and because it says in your application that you’re a good typist.”

  I loved the thought of this assignment, but the beach was calling me. I wanted to be on the beach, with Hayden, not cooped up inside doing office work. I didn’t care how many sand castles I had to help build, how many games of Wiffle ball I had to play. They could give me twenty kids to look after, just as long as I got to be near Hayden.

  “But Miss Crossley. Is it really the Inn’s place to help him with his book?” I asked.

  Miss Crossley looked completely stunned, as if I had suggested stoning the author with rocks from the beach. “Yes, Liza, it’s our place to help him, if it means he’ll stay here longer. Do you know what long-term guests mean to this place? Survival, Liza.”

  I thought of the closed and shuttered hotel Hayden and I had visited the day before, which reminded me of why I hadn’t answered her page. I felt a blush creep up my entire body, from my toes to my torso to my face to my scalp under my Tides Inn ball cap (where thankfully, it was concealed).

  No matter what Miss Crossley said? Even if she docked my paycheck? I wouldn’t regret ignoring that pager. I was still kind of in shock about it, though.

  “So what would this involve?” I asked.

  “I believe he has a handwritten rough draft he needs to have typed. Something about carpal tunnel. You’ll work side by side for today, and possibly more days in the future.”

  “So . . . no outdoor time? At all?” I asked. I felt like a dog stuck in a kennel.

  “We’ll see how it goes. You’d better go see him—he’ll meet you in the lobby at ten,” Miss Crossley said. “Oh, and Liza?” she asked as I stood up to leave. “That’s the second time I’ve tried to page you and you haven’t been around. Let’s not have a third, all right?”

  She didn’t come right out and say that it was my last chance—that if I got a third strike, I’d be out—but I could tell that was what she meant. It wasn’t fair, because I was the only employee who was on call all the time. But I sensed now wasn’t the time to point that out to her. If she wanted me to be there for her—I’d be there.

  “What’s the book about?” I asked as I turned on the notebook computer C. Q. had brought downstairs to the back porch. He’d already plugged it into an outlet, so there was no hope of the battery running out and my job finishing early.

  “It’s about identity, love, American history, and . . . oh, you’ll find out soon enough. It’s a novel about a family that vacations at a large Rhode Island hotel.”

  “Kind of like The Shining?” I asked.

  He frowned at me. “No. Great book, but no. This isn’t a horror novel.”

  “So this large inn—is it based on this place?” I said.

  “No. Resemblance to anything or anyone is strictly coincidental. Or whatever they print at the beginning of the book that means I can’t be sued.” He coughed and put out his cigarette. “Anyhow, it’s not this place. It’s a composite, of many hotels I’ve stayed at.”

  “In Rhode Island,” I said. “Uh huh. Fine, whatever you say. Except you should probably change my name,” I insisted as I typed in an exchange between the main character and an employee of the hotel. “And why did you make me short? I don’t want to be short.”

  “It’s fiction. Let it go,” he advised.

  “And speaking of names,” I went on. If he could use mine, then I had a question about his. “What does C. Q. stand for?”

  “Don’t tell anyone. But
nothing. I just liked the initials. My real name is Larry.”

  “Larry?” I wanted to giggle, but resisted.

  “I know, Larry Wallace doesn’t have quite the same cachet as a pair of pretentious initials.”

  “You’re right. Larry Wallace sounds like someone who works at the car repair shop, or a phys ed teacher or something.”

  “My point exactly. What were my parents thinking?” He laughed. “They scarred me for life.”

  Caroline came out onto the back porch. She was watching us, but pretending not to watch us. “Checking the surf again?” I asked her.

  “What?” she said in an innocent tone.

  “Nothing.” I kept typing.

  “Wow. Liza, I didn’t know you were a secretary,” Caroline said.

  “She’s my creative assistant today,” C. Q. said. “Now, could you get us some coffee?”

  “I’m sorry?” Caroline looked highly offended.

  “Don’t be sorry. Just get us the coffee,” C. Q. said.

  I bit my lip to keep from smiling.

  “I’ll try to—to—find your, uh, server,” she said.

  “Or you could do it,” C. Q. said.

  “I can go do it,” I offered, standing up. “If I’m your assistant, then—”

  “No, you’re not going for coffee, you’re going for a land-speed record, typing this manuscript for me. Carry on. I take mine black,” he said to Caroline. She made a tsking noise and walked away.

  “You need to stay right here. The fewer distractions, the better.” He stared at the beach for a second. “Oh, great. Here comes distraction number one.”

  What was he talking about? I looked up and saw Hayden walking toward the Inn. He must be on break. Just seeing him, I felt this magnetic pull.

  “Keep your mind on your work.”

  “Sir, yes sir,” I replied. “But anyway. Why do you say that?”

  “I saw you two. I’ve seen you two.”

  “What?”

  “Never mind,” he said.

  I glanced over at C. Q. (Larry), a new cigarette dangling from his lip, writing in a notebook. While I typed, maybe he could use up some more pens, I thought, or notebooks. Then Hayden and I would have the perfect excuse to escape together.