The Forever Summer

by Jamie Brenner

  She closed her eyes. We can do this. Oh, how she wanted to believe he was right.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Blythe knelt on the grass and hammered the last of four wooden stakes into the ground to wall off the patch of fresh soil she’d tilled. Next, she would cover the garden bed with compost. Working in the heat, panting with exertion, she still couldn’t quiet her mind.

  How could Kip have known the truth about Marin all along and never said a word? It should be cause for relief, but instead it made her feel that not only was her marriage over, it had never been what she’d believed it to be in the first place. She always felt that Kip loved her more after Marin was born; he tried harder to connect with Blythe, and even though he fell short in many ways, the new effort, combined with motherhood, cemented Blythe’s conviction that she needed to make her marriage work. And for so many years, it had worked. There had been genuine love, happiness, and, yes, even passion between them. Sure, it had fallen off in recent years. But she thought that was the normal course of things. Now she wondered if there had ever been a “normal” moment between them after her pregnancy.

  The answer was probably no. And there never would be. The marriage wasn’t ending because of his affair with Candace, and it wasn’t going to be saved because the affair was over. It was fatally flawed.

  Nadine stepped out of the house, wheeling a suitcase. “Have you seen my mother?”

  “She’s in her room,” Blythe said, squinting against the sun.

  Nadine consulted her phone. “Can you tell her I’m going to visit friends for a few days? But I’ll be back.”

  “Yes, I’ll let her know. She and Kelly are going away too.”

  Nadine raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, looks like you’ll have the house all to yourself. How convenient. What are you doing, anyway?”

  “Gardening.”

  “Does my mother know you’re digging up her property?”

  Blythe, summoning all the patience she could muster, said, “She knows, and she’s all for it. There’s nothing like garden-to-table food, Nadine. You might like it too.”

  “You three have gotten really comfortable here,” Nadine said. “Just don’t get too comfortable.”

  Where was all the hostility from? Did she really believe that Blythe had somehow hurt Nick? That he had run to Italy to get away from her? If she did, that was her problem.

  But it sure as hell didn’t have to be Amelia’s. Blythe had an idea. Maybe a crazy idea, but an idea nonetheless. She walked into the house and poured herself a glass of water.

  Think carefully about this, she told herself. Once you do it, it can’t be undone.

  She went upstairs, pulled her barely used cell phone from her bedside-table drawer, and dialed Kip’s number.

  “I was wondering if you’d call,” he said.

  “Why did you rush off without saying good-bye?”

  “I said good-bye when you left me to talk to Marin.”

  “Yes, but I thought I’d see you later.” Silence. “Marin told me about your, um, conversation with her. Kip, why didn’t you ever say anything to me?”

  “Blythe. It’s water under the bridge. Let’s not.”

  How? How could they not talk about it? She supposed, in his mind, the marriage was over. Kip was very much like that; either things were being debated or the case was closed.

  She’d thought, that moment at Pilgrims’ Park when he told her it was over with Candace, that he’d been making his way back to her. Clearly, she had been mistaken.

  They had now been separated for four months. He’d come all the way out there to see Marin and didn’t say so much as a good-bye to Blythe. And then there was the deeply confusing news that he had known about her infidelity all along and never confronted her. Now it was all out in the open, and he couldn’t even be bothered to talk about it. It wasn’t worth his time. His mind was made up.

  Understanding all of this should have made what she needed to ask easier. But it didn’t, and she found herself stalling. “What’s going on at work?”

  “I’ve decided to take the package they’re offering. I’m leaving at the end of the year.”

  “Oh, Kip. I’m sorry. I know it’s not what you wanted.”

  “I’m making the best of it. Marin’s feeling well?”

  “Yes. She’s fine. But we all got some bad news. One of the women we’re staying with found out she had terminal cancer. It’s quite upsetting.”

  “Marin’s grandmother?”

  “No. Her partner.”

  “I hope Marin isn’t taking it too hard. She needs to keep her spirits up.”

  “She’s fine. I’m actually concerned about her grandmother—Amelia. That’s why I’m calling.” Deep breath. “There’s something I want to show her. It’s at the house and I was wondering if you could find it for me and mail it here.”

  “I can do that.”

  “It’s a shoe box. I know this is a lot to ask, but please don’t open it. Just put it in a FedEx pack and send the whole thing. It’s…personal.”

  Blythe told him where to find the last words she’d ever heard from Nick Cabral.

  Rachel rolled her yoga mat out on the front porch and stretched. Her original plan had been to take it to the beach, but she couldn’t wait to get there. She needed to meditate and quiet her mind. She was going to be an aunt! It was hard to keep a secret, but who would she tell, anyway?

  She was excited, but at the same time, the news made her a little sad. Marin had her parents and now she would have a baby. Amelia and Kelly had each other. But at the end of the summer, Rachel would have to go back to LA and she would feel more alone than ever.

  Rachel rolled onto her back.

  “Rachel—you’re here,” Marin said, appearing on the top step. Rachel, surprised, looked up at her.

  “Oh my God, Marin, hi! Congratulations! A baby! I can’t believe it.”

  Marin’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. And then a gorgeous man with dark hair and big brown eyes appeared behind her.

  “What did she just say?” he asked Marin.

  Oops.

  “Julian, this is my half sister, Rachel,” Marin said quickly, as if a conversational bomb had not detonated. “Rachel, this is my friend Julian. I’m just going to give him a fast tour of the house.”

  Really, there was nothing she could do but nod as Marin took him by the hand and tugged him toward the kitchen. The “friend” glanced back at her, as if Rachel were going to offer up one last parting gem. She looked away.

  Disaster! But how was she supposed to know someone was right behind Marin? She’d seen only Marin, and she was just so excited about the idea of becoming an aunt. Well, if that was the baby daddy, he had to find out sooner or later. Right?

  Amelia made her way down the stairs, dragging luggage.

  “Are you going somewhere?” Rachel asked. The idea of Amelia leaving was almost unthinkable, like the backyard table just getting up and walking away.

  “Yes. Kelly and I are going on a little vacation. I’m hoping you can keep an eye on things while I’m gone? Please just check on Thomas for me on Thursday? It’s Paul’s turn for dinner, but I’d just feel better if you confirm with him.”

  The front door opened and in walked a bunch of people Rachel had never seen before, a man and woman who looked to be in their forties and two young teenagers, a boy and girl. The boy carried a guitar case and the girl held a skateboard.

  “Amelia!” The woman, stout and dark-haired, smiled and ran over to hug Amelia while the man waved from the doorway, a pile of bags at his feet.

  “Joan…Frank. What are you doing here?” Amelia dropped her own bag.

  “I know, right?” the woman said, looking around the room and beaming. “August already! Every time we walk in the door, it feels like we never left.”

  Kelly walked down the stairs, and Amelia turned to her and whispered, “The Millers are here. I thought you said you were going to call them?”

  “I
forgot!”

  An odd welcome ritual ensued, lots of catching-up talk that excluded Rachel. She looked at the two kids shuffling their feet and checking their phones while their parents exulted in their reunion with Amelia and Kelly. Finally, the woman turned to Rachel.

  “Joan Miller,” she said, her hand outstretched. “Are you staying here too?”

  “Oh! I’m sorry. Where is my head? Joan, this is my granddaughter Rachel.”

  More exclamations. Joan didn’t know Amelia had a granddaughter! (Of course she didn’t. Amelia hadn’t known she had a granddaughter until three months ago.)

  Kelly pulled Rachel aside.

  “Listen, we have a somewhat awkward situation on our hands,” she said, breathing heavily. “The Millers have been coming here every summer for the past two decades. I canceled their reservation this year because we closed the inn, but clearly they didn’t get the memo. Now that they’re here, I can’t see making them leave, but Amelia really wants to get away for a few days—” A coughing fit interrupted her, and Amelia rushed over.

  “Hon, go to the car. I’ll handle this,” she said, her face creased with concern.

  “Amelia, I can take care of things here. Just tell me what to do,” Rachel said. Amelia glanced back at the Millers, who had congregated on the front porch while waiting for their room.

  “Are you sure?” Amelia’s face was pinched with doubt.

  “Yes. Absolutely. Just tell me what room to put them in and I’ll take care of it.”

  “It’s a lot of work. The linens, breakfast…”

  “I can handle it! It’s the least I can do. I mean, we all showed up here and never left. I feel bad that you and Kelly have to leave in order to get some peace and quiet—”

  “Oh, my dear. That’s not it at all.”

  “Just let me do this. Let someone do something for you for a change.”

  “It would be a huge help,” Amelia admitted. “But only if you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure,” Rachel said.

  What could go wrong?

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Marin sat on her bed, in the same spot she’d occupied all summer yearning for Julian. Now he was there, and things couldn’t be worse.

  He paced in front of her. “I just don’t understand why you would keep this from me.”

  “Really? Maybe it’s because you handle complications and setbacks so well!”

  “You’re comparing this pregnancy to us losing our jobs?”

  She shrugged. He sat next to her and gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “I know what it’s like to grow up without a father and I would never do that to my own child.”

  She broke his gaze. “That’s noble of you, Julian. But what if it’s not your child?”

  His hands fell from her shoulders and he sat back, a stricken expression on his face.

  “It’s not?” he whispered.

  “I don’t know, okay? I mean, you do the math.”

  His eyes narrowed and he got the faraway expression she’d seen when he was poring over a case, trying to solve a problem or answer a complex question. After what felt like forever he said:

  “How could this happen?”

  “I assume that’s rhetorical,” Marin said.

  Julian stood and pressed his hands to his forehead. “Goddamn it, Marin.”

  “You should leave,” she said, fighting back tears.

  She didn’t have to tell him twice. When he was gone, she closed the door and leaned against it with a sob. That’s when she noticed a piece of Beach Rose Inn stationery had been slipped under it.

  “Hello over there? I’m looking for Nadine.”

  Blythe glanced up from the patch of soil she was raking. It was marked off from the rest of the yard with wooden stakes, and the next step would be to buttress the garden with wood planks, which she would hopefully find at the garden shop.

  Blythe wiped the soil from her hands and adjusted her sun hat so she could see the person calling out to her from the side of the house. It was Sandra Crowe.

  Sandra was dressed in a salmon-colored sundress and strappy gold sandals. Her dark hair was sleek, cut sharp at her jawline, and despite the relative humidity of the afternoon, her face was fully made up. She looked like she was going to an audition for Real Housewives of Provincetown.

  Blythe stood. “Nadine’s not here. She went away for a few days. Can I help you?”

  Sandra looked at Blythe’s hands and dirt-smudged shorts.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “I’m gardening,” Blythe said.

  “Can you please not dig up this property?”

  Good Lord, not this again.

  “Excuse me?” Blythe said. “I don’t see how that’s your business.”

  Sandra cocked her head, smiling with amusement. “It is literally my business. I’m buying this house. Now, if you don’t mind, Nadine told me I could take some measurements inside.”

  “It’s not a good time,” Blythe said. Did she have a right to interfere like this? Hell yes. More than a right; she had a duty!

  Sandra started to protest, but Blythe plastered a smile on her face and said, “The exterminator is here. It’s being fumigated.”

  “Exterminator? For what?”

  “Well, now—that’s not my business. You’ll have to come back when Nadine is here.” Blythe steered her back to the front of the house and left her at the sidewalk with a wave.

  Blythe walked up the steps and took a seat on the porch. She felt she should have a shotgun, like a settler defending her home on the range. After a few moments of reveling in her role of domestic protector, she decided she’d check out the gardening shop she’d seen on Race Point Road.

  The front door swung open, startling her. She turned, hoping to see Marin, who had disappeared after breakfast, but instead she found a tall, dark-haired, extremely handsome young man.

  “Excuse me. Can I help you?” she said, standing quickly.

  “I was just leaving,” he said. He was dressed in khaki pants and a white button-down shirt with rolled-up sleeves. The clothes were casual but not quite as casual as the norm around here. He was a visitor, but who was he visiting? Or was he looking for a room?

  “I don’t mean to be rude, but this is a private residence. The inn is closed this season.”

  “Like I said, ma’am, I was just leaving.”

  His eyes were dark, long-lashed. His voice held a hint of a British accent.

  Oh, happy day!

  “Are you Julian?”

  Now it was his turn to be startled. “Yes, I’m Julian.”

  “I’m Blythe Bishop, Marin’s mother. Oh, I’m so glad she called you about the baby and that you came!” Blythe wanted to hug him. He had proven her right: Marin had to embrace the situation, be honest, not try to hide the complicated truth. It was all going to work out for her.

  He didn’t say anything, just looked at her. Then: “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Bishop.”

  Oh, dear. Something was wrong.

  “Are you leaving?”

  “Yes. I’m leaving.”

  Blythe’s maternal alarm sounded.

  “So soon? Please don’t go. I know it’s complicated. But you came here to see Marin so you must want to be with her.”

  He looked at her like she was crazy.

  “With all due respect, Mrs. Bishop, I need some time.”

  Time? That’s what he’d said when they lost their jobs. But now he was here, so he must have realized he didn’t need time, he needed Marin. Why go through that same useless exercise? “You two can work this out. I know she cares about you. More than she’s cared about anyone. I saw that the first day she told me about you.”

  He shook his head. “I know you’re trying to help.”

  Blythe glanced back at the house. There was so much she needed to say, things he had to know before he made a decision that would hurt him and Marin and, yes, maybe even the baby. Things she’d learned only in th
e past month, like the way the truth always comes out. That maybe the truth isn’t as scary as you think; it’s the running away that’s the problem. The fact that family has to do with so much more than biology. That investing in loving someone is worth it.

  The front door swung open and a strange woman and teenage girl walked out carrying beach chairs. The woman smiled at Blythe.

  Who on earth were they? She was in the midst of a crisis, and that damn porch was becoming Grand Central Station. Before she could salvage the moment, Julian walked away.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Rachel’s first morning running the inn, and breakfast was late.

  She completely misjudged how long it would take to prepare Amelia’s usual spread. She thought since the only food that took real time was the broa and the orange muffins, that was all she had to account for. But it was the little things, like hard-boiling the eggs and squeezing the orange juice and cutting up the fruit salad, that threw her off. Even simply putting the organic granola into the bowl, setting out the yogurt—it all added up. The Millers patiently drank coffee while they waited. Well, the parents were patient. The two teenagers protested loudly, wanting to skip breakfast and head to the beach.

  When she finally set the food out, they all made such a big deal about how good it was, she stopped beating herself up on the timing.

  “This is all so delicious, Rachel—just like your grandmother makes!” Mrs. Miller said. Her husband nodded his agreement, his mouth full. Mrs. Miller told her daughter not to drink too much coffee, which got an eye-roll. Rachel was heading back to the kitchen when Mrs. Miller called out to her.

  “You don’t, by any chance, have that incredible cheese?”

  Cheese? Did she mean the homemade cheese? She’d forgotten all about that. She hadn’t seen it after she and Amelia had spooned the curds into cheese molds and put it in the refrigerator. Things had gotten so crazy around there.

  “I don’t, but…” Was this something Amelia always put out for her guests? Did she have a responsibility to make it? There was no way. She’d mess it up. “Maybe tomorrow?”