She rolled on her side and nuzzled against him. She drew her hand over his long abdomen, curled her fingers in his thick brown pubic hair, stroked his thigh.
“You’re created from marble and satin,” she murmured.
“You’re created from honey,” he replied. He rolled onto his side and gazed into her eyes. “Carley, I’ve wanted to do that ever since the first time I saw you.”
She touched his face with her fingertips. “Are we very bad?”
He captured her hand in his and kissed her palm. She shivered.
“Just for this week,” he said slowly, “let’s not think about anyone else. Let’s just be ourselves, together.” When she hesitated, he said, “The answer is no, Carley, I don’t think we’re being bad. If I did, I wouldn’t be here. But this week has fallen out of the sky like some kind of miracle, and I don’t want to lose a minute of it.”
“Okay.” She ran her free hand down his belly to his groin.
“What should we do?”
He answered by rolling back on top of her, and this time they made love together with a slowness that left her breathless.
The smell of coffee woke her.
“What?” She sat up in bed, dazed. She still wore her watch. It was after eight. Next to her, Wyatt slept heavily, snoring, naked, the sheet crumpled around his legs.
“My guests,” she whispered to herself and jumped from the bed. No time for a shower. She raced down the hall, pulled on shorts and a shirt and sandals, and hurried down the stairs.
Maxine and Karl Yoder from Philadelphia sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee.
“I’m so sorry!” Carley apologized. “I overslept. I never oversleep. My daughters are away, and I didn’t set my alarm—”
Mrs. Yoder was a plump motherly woman in her fifties. “Honey, I’m an old hand at brewing up coffee. The sweet rolls and muffins under the dome were as good as they were yesterday. The couple from Moon Shell went off to meet friends for breakfast at Arno’s and I don’t think the people in Angel’s Wing are awake yet.”
“Oh, good.” Carley cast a longing look at the coffeepot. Should she drink the coffee Mrs. Yoder had made? If she did, should she give the couple a discount on their charge? God, she couldn’t think straight and she knew she probably reeked of sex!
“You look very pretty this morning,” Mrs. Yoder said. “And happy, too.”
Carley dipped in a playful little curtsey. “Thank you. You look very pretty, too.”
“This sunshine makes us all look good,” Mr. Yoder said. Pushing himself up, he said, “Come on, Maxie. Places to go. Things to do.”
Carley waited until they’d left the kitchen, then made a beeline for the coffeepot.
“Good morning.” Wyatt appeared in the kitchen doorway. He had dressed in last night’s clothing, but he needed a shave and his hair stuck out in all directions. Still, he looked as sexy as hell.
She poured him a cup of coffee and brought it to him. “Mrs. Yoder made it. I overslept.”
“God bless Mrs. Yoder,” Wyatt said. With one hand, he took the cup. With the other, he pulled Carley against him so he could kiss her cheek. “Man needs sustenance.”
Carley smiled. “Sweet rolls and fruit, too.”
They sat companionably, eating, drinking juice, as normal as any couple.
Carley stared at Wyatt, wanting to absorb him through her eyes. Wanting more? Oh, yes. She asked, “Wyatt, do you think we made a mistake?”
“Do you?”
She tried to sort through her thoughts. “Last night was astonishing. But this morning I have to say I’m a little freaked out.”
“Do you feel guilty?”
“No. I don’t feel guilty. But I guess I wonder if I should feel guilty.”
“It is sudden,” Wyatt agreed. “But Carley, I’ve been wanting to—”
“Good morning!” Francine and Genevieve, who were staying in Angel’s Wing, breezed into the room, bringing scents of perfumed soap and strawberry shampoo. “Isn’t it a fab day?” Casting their eyes on Wyatt, who had suddenly stood up, they both batted their lashes. “Well, hello. Are you staying here?”
“Actually,” Wyatt said, “I’m just leaving.” Leaning over, he pecked a chaste kiss on Carley’s cheek. “I’ll call you later.”
She was not a teenager. She couldn’t go to her room and bite her pillow and indulge in remembering every moment of last night. She had work to do. She checked Angel’s Wing out and sent Maria off to clean and prepare it for the next guests. She settled at her desk, turned on her computer, and ordered supplies to be shipped from off-island, the toilet paper, tissues, paper towels, soaps, and cleaning supplies she bought in bulk.
When the phone rang, she snatched it up.
27
• • • • •
“Hi, Mommy!” Margaret’s sweet voice rang clear as chimes over the distance. “Do you miss us? We miss you. We went to the zoo yesterday! I saw a lion, and a chimpanzee smiled at me, they have really big teeth, and—”
This is reality, Carley reminded herself as she listened to her younger daughter chattering away. This is what really matters.
Cisco came on, sounding relaxed and happy. “We’re going into the city today,” she informed Carley, “to see the Museum of Natural History, like in the movie with Ben Stiller!”
“Ooh, how fabulous, Cis. Wish I were with you.”
“Grandpa and Grandma have central air-conditioning, too,” Cisco said smugly.
“Oh, flip me with a spatula and call me done,” Carley joked.
She spoke with her parents about the plans for the week. Her parents lived such responsible lives, but Carley had seen photos of them when they were young and clearly they’d been crazy about each other. In their own undemonstrative way, they still were.
Mom, Carley wanted to say, I just had the most unexpected, amazing, off-the-charts sex in my life last night. I feel like I’m in love and I feel nearly sick with guilt. What should I do?
But she said nothing. She knew what her mother would say: sex gets people into trouble. She saw the results all the time at her day care center.
After saying good-bye to them all, Carley put down the phone and flicked on her accounting program. The numbers swam before her eyes. She folded her arms and put her head down and allowed herself to drift on memories of the night before. The slide of Wyatt’s body against hers. His touches, delicate, and then not delicate at all. His—the phone rang.
“Carley,” Wyatt said. “Can you talk?”
“Yes. Everyone’s gone.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“Good.” Her voice was throaty with desire.
“Listen, here’s what I think. We’ve been given a gift with this week. We’d be fools not to take it. I want to be with you every moment I can, and we can figure out where to go from here. What do you think?”
“Oh, Wyatt. Yes.” She laughed at herself. “I want to crawl right through the phone into your arms.”
“It might be easier if I just walked back to your house,” Wyatt said.
“Now?”
“Now.”
As they lay in bed together, Wyatt’s eyes lazily lingered on Carley’s breasts, while a light, unconscious smile lifted his mouth. He said, “You’re so beautiful.”
She took his hand, kissed it, and murmured, “You, too.”
She could feel her chest dappling pink from shyness at his staring, and from pure animal satisfaction, and she thought how the heat pulsing through her, dilating her veins and arteries, pinking her skin, deepening her breathing, was like that of any flower on a warm summer day. She could understand how bulbs could survive the cold winter beneath the dark earth, how dry seeds could split open, shooting shafts of green stems up into the light, where buds swelled and unfolded and lay themselves open to the life-giving heat of the sun. She had been through her own winter. Now she was returning to full life.
This was what Wyatt had done, was doing, for her. She loved her daug
hters, of course, they were the miracle and center of her world. But in her own body and spirit, something had been dormant. When she had given birth to her daughters, she had felt as if she were gripped by the deep source of the universe. Here it was again, the great fierce force of life seizing her by the scruff of her neck, shaking her awake, igniting her into a glowing, radiant blossom thick with juice, nectar, and joy.
It wasn’t just the sex. They had everything to tell each other. They sat up late into the night, talking about their childhoods, their families, their dreams. They made juicy lobster rolls at two in the morning and ate them, licking each other’s fingers. Because they had always suspected they shared a slightly warped sense of humor, they had a marathon of DVDs of Robin Williams, Dane Cook, and Ben Stiller. One night after a day of rain, when the temperature had dropped and a cool breeze made the muggy air comfortable, they put on music and danced. Quiet music, because Carley didn’t want to wake her guests. Romantic music. Slow music.
They talked to each other like college students just learning about themselves. Wyatt asked Carley how it had been, having a sister who was gay. That hadn’t been a problem, Carley told him. Sarah had been bright, witty, and a popular jock. She had been considered ultracool. The problem for Carley had been following in the steps of such a successful sister.
Wyatt remembered growing up with Gus, best friends and constant companions. Their parents were close friends who got together often to sail to Coatue or Tuckernuck for the day. Gus was an only child, but Wyatt had an older sister, Wendy, who treated Gus like her little brother. When their parents wouldn’t take them to see Ghostbusters or Indiana Jones or Batman, Wendy took them. She was their hero. And she was their cheerleader. Gus had been quarterback of the high school football team, Wyatt had been running back. Gus had organized the beach cleanups and car washes for class trips. Wyatt was his first lieutenant. Both boys were fascinated by the law, and by the time they were in high school, they decided Wyatt would be a junior partner in the Winsted firm.
Carley said softly, “I wonder what Gus would think about us.”
Wyatt made a face. “If he were alive, he’d kill me. As it is, I think he’d want you to be happy. Me, too.”
Carley said, “I’ve thought about this a lot, when I’m not with you—when I’m capable of thought,” she added with a smile. “I don’t feel disrespectful to Gus. I don’t have the sense that he’s around somewhere, watching me angrily. People say things to widows, they say, ‘Gus would want you to be happy.’ ”
“I think they’re right. Gus would want you to be happy. He loved you and he cherished those girls. And his parents love you. That was important to him.”
“I love his parents.” Wryly, she added, “Sometimes.”
“But do you know how unusual that is? How many people love their in-laws? Russell and Annabel appreciated everything you did with Gus. You fixed up this old wreck and made it a home. You came from off-island and made good friends in the community. We have to go on from this point. I think we need to worry about Cisco and Margaret and Gus’s parents.”
“I agree.”
“I think we get to pay a bit of attention to ourselves, too. We matter, too, Carley.”
The night before everyone returned, Carley and Wyatt sat in the kitchen, sharing a midnight snack of milk and scones and cookies and fruit. Carley, half-drugged from hours of intense sex, wasn’t sure she wanted to get into a discussion. Yet perhaps they had to.
“I wonder whether anyone suspects about us,” she said carefully. “About this week.”
“I doubt it,” Wyatt said. “We’ve been circumspect. I’ve walked here. My car hasn’t been parked in front of your house. I’ve seen clients, talked to friends, you’ve gone grocery shopping. I think we’ve appeared absolutely normal.”
“That’s good.” Carley looked down into her glass. “Wyatt. I don’t want my girls to find any man in my bed, until—” She saw his face change, just a shadow crossing. “I’m not saying I don’t want to be with you. It’s just that once the girls are back, we just have to be more careful, okay?”
He nodded. “I agree.”
For a moment, they were silent, caught in their own thoughts. Then Wyatt flashed his magic smile. “We should go to bed while we can.”
So they did.
28
• • • • •
Saturday everyone arrived back on the island. Cisco spent about three and a half minutes with her mother before rushing off to phone her friends. Margaret curled up in Carley’s lap and yapped away happily, recounting every detail of her trip. Later that day, Annabel phoned to say they were back, and Carley invited them to a big Sunday lunch the next day.
Annabel and Russell had brought gifts for everyone from Boston, and Cisco and Margaret had brought gifts for everyone from New York, which made Sunday afternoon a bit like Christmas.
The phone rang in the middle of the night, waking Carley from a deep sleep. Her heart went from its reliable thud to a panicked clatter as she sat up and turned on the light. Her girls were home, she’d tucked them in. Gus was dead. Who could it be? Her parents? Annabel? “Mrs. Winsted? It’s Melody Wiggins.”
It was the woman who was staying in Scallop with her fiancé.
The woman was sobbing so hard she was almost incomprehensible. “F-f-f-forgive me for waking you, but I don’t know who else to call. My fiancé and I had a fight and he left me out here and I’ve been trying to walk home, but I’m totally lost! I don’t think I should call the police, I don’t have any money for a cab, I’m in my bathing suit and flip-flops, and Jack took the car! It’s dark out here!”
Carley looked at the clock. It was a bit after midnight. Tossing back the covers, she went to the window and looked down at the street. She didn’t see the Jeep the couple had rented. She’d noticed during the four days they’d been in Scallop that Jack enjoyed his liquor. Probably Jack was in one of the bars.
Melody Wiggins was young, Carley remembered, probably no older than eighteen. Cisco would be that old in five years. This would be beyond the duties of the owner of a B&B, but Carley hoped someday someone would do something just as nice for her daughters.
“I’ll come pick you up, Melody. Take a deep breath and let’s see if we can figure out where you are.”
It turned out not to be difficult to find her. Jack had taken Melody for a picnic and evening swim at Gibb Pond out on the moors, a place where few tourists went. Carley pulled on shorts and a shirt, checked on her sleeping daughters, and swept her keys into her hands. She hadn’t left the girls alone in the house before, but they weren’t really alone. Both Angel’s Wing and Moon Shell were occupied by older and saner couples who, Carley knew, were already in for the night.
She found Melody at the small beach by the pond, pacing back and forth and weeping. The young woman threw herself into the car and startled Carley with a fierce hug.
“Thank you! Thank you! I thought I would die out there! I thought a bear would get me.”
“Honey, no bears live on Nantucket,” Carley assured her. “You were safe.” She patted Melody’s back. “But it must have been terrifying to be alone out in the wild at night.”
“I don’t know what to do,” Melody confessed as Carley drove over the rutted dirt paths crisscrossing through the moors. “Jack and I are going to get married. I love him, and he loves me, I know he does. But he has such a temper.”
“How long have you been together?” She watched her headlights pierce a bright track through the dark.
“Almost a year.” Melody dug in her purse, pulled out some tissue and noisily blew her nose. “He wants to get married this fall.”
“Maybe you should wait awhile before getting married. Give him time to—”
“Oh, no, he’d be really angry then. He’s got an important job with a bank and they’re transferring him to their British branch before Christmas.”
The SUV bounced and waddled as it went through puddles and over bumps. Carley considered her w
ords carefully. “What do your parents think of Jack?”
Melody was silent. “They did like him, at first. I mean, you’ve met him. He’s so handsome, and charming, and smart, and he makes a ton of money. He just sometimes … he’s just under so much pressure.”
They arrived at the main road. Carley turned onto the pavement and their ride smoothed out. “You see,” she pointed out, “now we’re on the Polpis Road. You weren’t far from town. Did you plan to go to college, Melody?”
“Yes, but I just wanted to be an elementary-school teacher.”
“Just? Teaching’s the most important job in the world. I’ll bet you’d be good at it, too.”
Melody was silent for a few moments. They came to the turnoff onto the ’Sconset road toward the rotary and town. Headlights from other cars flashed past.
“I would be good at it,” Melody said at last, her voice a little stronger.
Carley thought of what Melody’s parents must have said to her: You’re only eighteen, so young, how can you know what you want? She didn’t want to repeat that warning. “Moving to another town is always stressful,” Carley continued, keeping her voice easy, chatty. “Moving to another country must be very difficult. In fact, someone made a chart of the top ten most stressful events in life, and moving is way up there with divorce and having a spouse die.”
Melody looked at Carley. “I didn’t know that.”
“It’s certainly something to think about. You might want to let Jack move first and see how he handles that pressure.”
“Oh, but he needs me,” Melody protested.
“You might want to think about what you need. That’s what I’d tell my daughters.”
Melody was silent, her face creased with worry.
They pulled into the driveway. They were home.
Summer Beach Reads Page 53
