by Nancy Thayer
Lily stood up. "I'm going to go talk to Jason." She crossed the kitchen and started to leave, then stopped and turned back. "Thanks, Marina. For the coffee and the advice."
"You're welcome." Marina smiled.
Lily left. Marina sat for a few moments, feeling pleased with herself. She'd done a pretty good job of counseling, she thought.
Jim came into the kitchen, his hair still wet from his shower. He mumbled good morning, poured himself a cup of coffee, and stared out the window at the Playhouse.
"He's still there." Marina went to stand behind Jim, wrapping her arms around his waist. He was so satisfyingly solid and strong. She laid her cheek against his back, soaking in his warm, clean smell. "And I'm still here."
Jim didn't reply.
She continued, "I've just been talking with Lily. It was a good conversation. It made me realize something, Jim. I do want to marry you, but I also want to be involved in your daughters' lives. They need a woman's opinion, and I give good advice. And I like being part of their lives. Okay?"
Jim turned around and met Marina's eyes. "I think I'd agree to almost anything. I don't want to live without you in my life, Marina."
She stood on tiptoes to kiss his mouth lightly. "And I don't want to live without you." She stepped back. "So I'll tell Gerry that I've slept on it, and my decision remains. I'm staying here."
"Good," Jim said. "Let's go tell him now."
"Don't you need to go to work?"
"Are you kidding? I'm driving that man to the airport and personally escorting him onto the plane!"
Marina laughed and took his hand, tugging him toward the door. They walked down the lawn together. Marina knocked on the cottage door.
"Come in," Gerry called.
Overnight the cottage had been transformed into a nursery. Used and clean paper diapers littered the furniture, baby bottles stood on the kitchen counter, and Gerry's suitcase was open, spilling his clothes and his son's clothing onto the sofa. Gerry was dressed, sort of, his shirt half-tucked in, his hair tousled, and he'd missed several spots when shaving. He looked overwhelmed and disoriented, and when Marina walked in the door, his face lit up. Then he saw Jim and his face fell.
The two men studied each other in silence.
"Jim, this is Gerry, my ex-husband," Marina said quietly. "Gerry, this is Jim. We've come to take you to the airport."
"Marina, wait." Gerry began to argue.
Marina interrupted. "I did what you asked, Gerry, I slept on my decision and I'm still one hundred percent certain that I'm staying here with Jim. I didn't invite you here, and I'm sorry about Dara, but I know you'll be fine, and actually, Gerry, I just want you to leave. Can I help you pack?"
At that moment, the baby wailed. The three adults turned toward the infant tucked into one corner of the sofa.
"You can change the baby while I finish packing," Gerry said.
Marina almost laughed. Gerry was a master manipulator who loved a challenge. And she had to admit, privately, this was a challenge. Still, she organized the baby wipes, the paper diaper, the tiny blue and white romper, setting them on the table next to the sofa. She sat down and leaned over the baby, cooing and smiling at him.
"Hello, Garfield, I'm Marina. I'm going to change your diaper."
Garfield gazed up at her with his serious questioning face, studying her, and then he smiled and kicked his feet and the sudden compelling connection between them made love blossom in her heart like a flower. What a happy, trusting, little boy. She could love him so very much. She removed the soiled diaper, cleaned him and put on a new diaper, and bent down to kiss his fat little belly. The baby shrieked with glee. Here was this new life, pure and eager, and she snapped on his clothes, then lifted him to her shoulder and felt his sweet baby weight against her. She was aware of the two men in the room, both of them carrying their burden of history, their charms and flaws, their heaviness and guilt, for no adult was ever really without guilt of some sort. The baby snuggled against her. She knew instinctively how to support his bum and his neck. She gave herself a moment to breathe in his clean baby fragrance, to feel the warmth of his hot little head. She closed her eyes and silently prayed: Bless you, little boy. May your life be good.
She had to force herself to act relaxed and calm as she turned back to Gerry and Jim. Gerry's suitcase was packed and at his side. Jim held the cottage door open.
"All ready," Marina said brightly.
They walked out to Jim's truck. During the ride to the airport, Marina sat in the passenger seat, holding the baby.
Gerry leaned over from the backseat. "I meant to tell you, Marina," he said amiably, "Colin Finster has been dating Eloise."
Marina didn't reply. A year ago, she would have laughed at this news, for a year ago Colin and Eloise were employees of hers. But all that was a world away, and irrelevant to her now. She would not share anything with Gerry in front of Jim.
The rest of the ride was in silence. When they arrived at the airport, Jim parked the truck in the ten-minute loading zone in front of the terminal. Gerry got out, and Marina gave the baby to Gerry while she got out, and then Gerry handed the baby back to her while he put on his backpack.
She looked down at the infant in her arms. "Good-bye, little boy," she whispered.
The baby cooed softly to her. He grabbed her finger in his fist and clutched it tight. This was what babies did, she told herself, it didn't mean anything. Still, when she handed the baby to Gerry, her heart lurched and spilled a stream of distress into her blood.
She didn't want to let the baby go. They stood on the pavement outside the terminal. All around them people came and went, pulling luggage, chattering brightly about the summer.
"Marina," Jim said quietly, "come on."
"Perhaps we should wait ..." Marina felt as if her heart were being torn open. "Help ... until the plane leaves."
"He managed to get here from Kansas City all by himself," Jim reminded her. "I think he can handle it from here."
She nodded. Jim was right, of course he was right. She ripped her gaze away from the baby boy. She looked at Gerry, and that helped, that lessened her regret just a little, loosened the bond of her longing enough for her to reach out and grasp Jim's hand.
"Okay," Marina said. "Let's go. Bye, Gerry. Take care of him."
She knew that Gerry waited on the pavement, watching, holding the baby, as they got back into the truck, and that he was still standing there, waiting, as they drove away. She didn't allow herself to look back.
"Marina," Jim said quietly. "You can cry."
"Thanks," she said, "but you know what? I wish you would hold me a minute."
Jim steered the truck to the side of the street and parked. He held out his arms. Marina unclipped her seat belt and slid next to him, but the console between them made their embrace awkward.
Still, she was grateful to be held so close, to be held so dear as she cried. She was grateful for the steady beating of his heart.
57
Lily
Lily let herself into the apartment with the key Jason had given her.
"Hello!" she called.
But he was already gone. No surprise, really. His crew started work at six.
Frustrated, Lily paced the small living area, trying to think what to do next. She didn't like having things up in the air like this, it made her feel absolutely itchy. What house was he working on now? She admitted to herself that she didn't always pay close attention to Jason when he told her about his work. Sometimes, if he was renovating a fabulous house, he invited her out to give her a little tour, a peek into how the superrich lived, but she thought he was building an addition to a fairly modest house out in Madaket--yes, that was it!
Should she go there? It was a long way, about five miles. She could bike there, but she'd arrive all sweaty and exhausted. Who had the Old Clunker today? Could she take it without making her sisters angry? Should she even do it at all; would he hate it if she showed up at the site, interrupting hi
s work? But she was so uncomfortable with the way things were between them now, she was miserable, really, and she knew he was miserable, too, and she hated that, and she supposed this meant she was truly in love with him. She felt as if she were on fire with alarm. She didn't want to lose him. She had to do anything, everything, to keep him here with her.
She needed to tell him and tell him now.
She pretty much speed-walked back home. Her father's truck was gone, but the Old Clunker sat in the driveway. She went in through the kitchen and stood for a moment, listening to the house. Silence. So everyone had gone, although she wasn't sure about Emma, perhaps she was still sleeping. Lily clattered up the stairs, not trying to be quiet; if Emma was still asleep, well, it was time for her to wake up! She waited outside Emma's closed door for a moment, then opened it.
The room was empty. Perhaps Emma had gotten up early and gone off to work already. If so, she'd been picked up by Marcia, which meant she didn't need the car.
Lily took a few moments to touch up her makeup, not that she wore much in the morning. She brushed her hair and changed her shirt for one that showed a little more cleavage. Then she hurried down the stairs, grabbed the keys, and raced to the car.
Much of the island traffic had left, and the streets were clear and easy. Goldenrod and asters bobbed along the verges of the narrow road winding out to the west end of the island. The light slanted slightly, bronzing the landscape, and today the air was cooler than usual. Just a taste of fall in the air. Tonight she'd be able to use the turquoise pashmina she'd found at the thrift shop.
Her friend Carrie bought things at the thrift shop all the time. She dressed her baby in thrift shop clothing; she'd gotten her maternity wardrobe there. So many wealthy people donated clothes, some of them brand-new, it really was a satisfying experience to shop there, but did Lily want to live the rest of her life in thrift shop clothing?
What had Jason said? That she was fine as she was. Lily smiled, remembering that, and then immediately she frowned, for he had also asked her what she needed expensive clothes for, as if that were some sort of strange desire.
You want too much, Lily, Jason had said. You're going to have to make a choice.
But really, she didn't see why. She drove past the turnoff on Cliff Road, leading past the Tupancy land with its spectacular views of the Sound and remembered the fund-raiser she'd been to there. She'd met Jimmy Buffett! And he had really looked at her, and even if he was an old guy, he was cool, and she'd loved being young and desirable in her sassy little cropped top and her long dangling earrings.
Next she passed the road to Dionis and the gorgeous mansions resting on the edge of the cliff, with their splendid views of the Sound. She'd never been in one of those houses. She'd always wanted to, and perhaps, if she worked for the magazine next year, she would, or perhaps Eartha would invite her to accompany her to a party there ...
Why should she have to give up all that in order to be with Jason? If he loved her, why couldn't he change? If he really loved her, then didn't he love the part of her that desired gorgeous clothes?
She was thinking so hard she almost ran off the road.
Jason would never be able to afford one of those trophy houses. Even though contractors made a lot of money, they didn't make millions and millions. She didn't care about that, she didn't need millions and millions. But she did want just a taste of it, just a few pretty clothes, and she did want to go to Paris before she settled down.
Suddenly she was in Madaket, the small colony of houses and marinas clustered at the end of the island. Instead of turning onto the street where Jason was working, she went on down to a dirt road leading to the harbor and turned again, onto another dirt road that dead-ended in a forest. She turned off the engine and sat there in the silence, trying to calm herself.
What was she going to say to Jason? I'll give it all up to marry you?
That just didn't seem right. But she didn't want to lose him, and she tried to think clearly about why she loved him so.
First of all, she just did. She'd fallen totally, completely, helplessly, sexually, romantically, in love with the man, and she trusted that, she trusted whatever surging insistent power it was that had brought her this man, that had brought her this kind of love. It was real, enormous, and unlike anything she had ever known before. It was momentous.
And it was right. She could step away from her passion and enumerate the other reasons she loved Jason. He was a good man. He was reliable, honest, kind, funny, he was trustworthy, and he wouldn't fool around. He was in many ways, all of them good, like her father. She liked being with him. She felt at home with him. And if she thought of someday having a child with him--it made her shiver with helpless joy to even think of that.
But she wasn't ready for a baby yet. She wasn't ready to settle down, buy appliances, and spend her days working in a shop in order to pay for a new sofa or a mini vacation. She was who she was, young, probably naive, certainly not completely formed. But she was not just a helpless bit of driftwood being tumbled into shape by the power of the ocean; she did have some say in her future, in what she would become.
She didn't want to lose Jason. She didn't want to lose herself, either.
She started up the car again, did a three-point turn, and headed for the farthest road in this little town. She came to a modest white Cape with its splendid view of Madaket Harbor. Jason's truck was in the drive, another truck behind it.
She parked and stepped out into the sunshine. The clean smell of sawdust floated past on the breeze and she heard hammers pounding. She walked around the side of the house to the addition Jason was building, past the pile of plywood and the sawhorses with two-by-fours lying in wait to be cut to size. The new room had been framed in. Now they were pounding up the walls.
Jason was up on a ladder. It was one of his crew, Patrick, who spotted Lily first.
"Hi, Lily," Patrick called.
Jason's head whipped around. When he saw her, he smiled. "Lily! What are you doing here?"
"I just wanted to talk to you for a minute," Lily told him.
He climbed down the ladder, tossed his hammer onto a pile of plywood, and came over to her. "It's nice to see you."
"Can we just walk down here a little way?" Lily asked.
"Sure." He put his arm around her shoulders as they walked away from the house, closer to the beach and the harbor, its water sparkling in the sunlight.
She stepped back a little, away from the shelter of his arm. She faced him head-on. "I just want to tell you I love you, Jason. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose us."
He smiled down at her. "Okay. Me, too."
Lily took a deep breath. Her heart thudded in her chest, in her throat. "But I do want to go to Paris. Maybe not for six months--" she hurriedly added. "Maybe just for three months, or two, I have to figure it out, and maybe you could come to Paris and stay with us and you and I could have a romantic time in Paris together, and maybe you could meet Eartha, because whatever I am, part of me does really like her, she's kind of fabulous, Jason ... I guess what I'm saying is, I don't want to have to make one choice, black or white; I want you and me to work this out together somehow. Can we do that?"
He was listening to her carefully. She felt his resistance harden when she mentioned Eartha and Paris, but when she stopped talking, she saw how his shoulders relaxed, just a bit, and the muscle stopped jumping in his jaw.
He said, "I love you, too, Lily. And I want you to be able to see Paris. I've been thinking. I was wrong to want to deny you that. I guess I'm afraid you won't want me if you go to Paris--"
"Oh, Jason! I'll always want you!" Lily cried and tried to hug him.
He put his arms on her shoulders and held her away from him. "We don't need Patrick to witness everything," he told her gently. "I'm glad you came out here, Lily. I'm sorry I stormed out of the house; it was a childish thing to do. I want to work things out with you, okay? We can both compromise a bit, right?"
&n
bsp; Lily smiled. "Right."
"I'd better get back to work. See you at home tonight?"
She nodded. Jason dropped a light kiss on top of her head, picked up his hammer, and went back up the ladder. She watched him for a moment, loving the lines of his body, the strength of his arms, the muscles in his back. She saw how he was building something new with his hard physical labor. He was good at that, at building something new. And she could learn to be good at that, too.
She drove back home, and her thoughts still raced, but her heart was calm.
58
Emma
The sound of running water woke Emma. As she surfaced from her warm ocean of sleep, she was aware of a sense of extraordinary happiness growing within her. She didn't want to wake from this blissful dream. Then she opened her eyes ... and the dream was still there. Even more happiness rushed through her.
She was in Spencer's bed. The sound of running water was Spencer in the shower. They'd slept the night together here, in his house.
Sighing with pleasure, Emma sat up in bed, stuffing all the pillows behind her for support. When they came in last night, she hadn't really paid attention to Spencer's house--it could have been the Taj Mahal or a refrigerator box and she wouldn't have cared.
Now she let her gaze wander around the room. It was a quaint little chamber, tucked up on the second floor of this old house. The entire house was a low-ceilinged, beam-and-plaster jewel box, built in the late eighteenth century and remodeled and modernized as the decades passed. The front door opened directly off a narrow hidden lane into a long room that served as living and dining room, with a galley kitchen downstairs and the bathroom upstairs built on the back of the house in what the islanders referred to as "warts." It was Spencer's house. He'd bought it with money left to him by his grandparents, and loving history as he did, he cherished the house.
The room was sparsely furnished with a double bed, an old bureau, a chair, and on the wall several paintings of Nantucket by island painters. No curtains hung at the small, many-paned window. It was open, and the dewy air of early morning drifted into the room.
