The Forever Summer Page 16

  She would have loved to do a big, splashy dive, but the pool wasn’t deep enough, so she settled for wading into the shallow end and pushing into a quick breaststroke.

  Damn, it was cold. She let out a little yelp despite herself.

  “Hate to say I told you so,” Luke called from the side of the pool. She kept moving, her heart pounding from the cold and from her acute awareness of him watching her. She stopped in the deep end, treading water. She felt her hair fanning out around her like a mermaid’s. Luke had gotten into the shallow end and was moving into his own set of laps.

  They swam in opposite directions, passing each other every half minute or so, their bodies far enough apart not to collide but close enough to thrill her. But too soon, she felt herself grow tired, and she cursed her lack of stamina. More cardio, less yoga, she told herself. Breathless, she was finally forced to paddle over to the side of the pool and hold on to the ledge.

  Luke swam over to her.

  “Quitting time already?”

  “Just a little break.” Their faces were inches apart. His eyes were the color of the pool and the sky. His skin, tanner than it had been just two days ago, glistened with water. The word godlike came to mind.

  Get a grip!

  She felt like she should say something along the lines of Don’t let me slow you down, but she didn’t want to break the moment. It was eye-lock, and she didn’t dare breathe, let alone speak.

  Was he going to kiss her?

  And then a tapping sound, metal on glass. They both looked up; Thomas waved to them from a second-floor window.

  “He must need something. I’m going to check.”

  He hoisted himself out of the pool, his arms all lean muscle. She had to force her eyes away, knowing that Thomas was watching them.

  “Are you going to Paul’s party tonight?” he asked, toweling off.

  “Paul’s party? No, I think we have some dinner thing on the East End.” Damn. Why weren’t they going to Paul’s party?

  “Well, maybe I’ll see you guys at the pier for the fireworks after.” He grinned.

  She would definitely be at the pier if she had to go on her own. If she had to ride there on her own on the back of a pink whale float! Rachel climbed out of the pool by the metal ladder in the deep end, and Luke handed her a towel. “Thanks. And thanks for the swim. Clearly, I need the cardio!”

  “Anytime. See you at the fireworks.”

  She dressed and walked back out front to her bike, more buoyant than she’d been in the water.

  Marin woke up feeling as exhausted as if she hadn’t slept at all, even though she’d gotten ten hours. She wanted to go back to sleep, but at ten in the morning, Commercial Street sounded like Times Square on New Year’s Eve at midnight. Somewhere in the distance, an early firework exploded.

  She groaned and burrowed under the covers.

  By this time tomorrow, she would be driving back to New York City. She had to admit, there were a few things she would miss about Provincetown. At the top of the list, Kelly.

  Marin looked at the flower inside her wrist. Kelly had pulled her right out of her funk, if only for a little while. She was thankful she’d run into her in the hallway the morning she’d meant to slink off and drive away. That ride to the East End, the wind blowing through the truck’s open windows, the sun on her face—it had been a pure moment of summer, a deep exhale.

  She decided she would get her alone so she could thank her—if it wasn’t too late. She’d probably left to watch the parade. And then they were all going to Sandra Crowe’s house that night, so she might not have time alone with her at all.

  At that hour, breakfast was over. She looked out her window, and, sure enough, only her mother and Amelia were still at the table. They looked deep in conversation; Amelia was downright transfixed by whatever her mother was saying. Good. Hopefully they’d be at it for a few more minutes and she’d have time for some private words with Kelly.

  She went down to find her.

  The sound of blaring pop music and raucous cheering on Commercial Street reached them even in the back of the house. There had been a time when Amelia wouldn’t have missed a second of the parade. But she felt oddly removed this year. Perhaps it was because she didn’t have the pressure to show Beach Rose Inn guests the way the Fourth of July was done in Provincetown. Or maybe because she was so consumed with meeting her new granddaughters, figuring out what it all meant. The usual P-Town revelry was no match for the happiness Rachel and Marin had brought her.

  “I really appreciate you having us here,” Blythe said.

  Amelia poured them both more coffee. “Oh, my dear. You can’t imagine how much it’s meant to me. I’m sorry to see you go! Though if you have to leave, we will at least give you a spectacular send-off tonight. We do the Fourth of July like no one else.”

  Blythe nodded. “Yes. Well, before we leave, I feel like there’s something I should tell you. That you deserve to know.”

  Amelia looked at her expectantly, but it took Blythe a moment to speak. It was clear she was struggling with whatever it was she had to say. Amelia had to hold herself back from prompting her, afraid she would shut her down completely. The sounds from the street seemed to grow more boisterous in the silence.

  “Nick wasn’t my sperm donor,” Blythe said.

  What? Amelia felt an immediate sense of loss. Marin wasn’t Nick’s daughter? How could that be? She looked just like him.

  “I don’t understand…”

  “He was my lover. We had an affair.”

  It took a moment for her words to sink in. Nick had known this woman? Loved this woman?

  “Oh my God.”

  Blythe nodded, openly sobbing now. “I’ve never told anyone—not in all these years. It was the summer, and he left to visit Nadine in Italy, and I never saw him again. By the time I realized I was pregnant with Marin, Nick was long gone and I was working on my marriage.”

  Amelia began crying herself and reached for Blythe’s hand.

  “Oh, dear. What secrets we all keep. It must have been difficult.”

  Blythe nodded, trying to pull it together.

  “Thank you,” Amelia said. “Thank you for telling me.” She looked at Blythe as if seeing her through fresh eyes. Imagining her as her son might have seen her thirty years ago. It was the closest Amelia had felt to Nick in a long time.

  Amelia leaned forward, embracing her, and they cried together for the man they had both lost.

  Marin climbed the stairs to the third floor. The door to the studio was closed, but she heard Kelly’s voice from inside.

  “I appreciate the follow-up call. I just have to process—yes, I know. Look, if you need me to say that you’ve made my options clear so that you feel you’ve done your job as my oncologist, then consider it said.”

  Marin froze.

  The door opened.

  “Hey,” Kelly said casually—so casually that if Marin hadn’t just overheard the snippet of conversation, she wouldn’t have known anything was wrong.

  “What’s going on?” Marin said.

  “Nothing.”

  “Oh no, you don’t,” said Marin. “We got drunk that first week and I told you all my messy shit.” She flashed her wrist tattoo.

  “Marin, not now.”

  “Then when? I’m leaving in the morning. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m not a fixture here like everyone else in this town.”

  Kelly seemed to consider this. “Fine. If you’re leaving tomorrow, you can take a secret with you.”

  Marin nodded.

  “I don’t want to talk here.”

  “Where, then?”

  The A-House was decked out in Fourth of July splendor, complete with red, white, and blue pinwheels on the bar, mini–American flag toothpicks garnishing every drink, and a shirtless bartender wearing an Uncle Sam hat. The bar was packed, standing room only. Kelly elbowed her way to a spot in the corner closest to the video screen and waved the bartender over. He poured two kamikaze
shots. Marin downed hers, even though it was not yet noon, even though she’d sworn off alcohol for the duration of her trip. Because on a gut level, she knew she was going to need it.

  “So,” Kelly said over the music—Whitney Houston’s rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner,” complete with video accompaniment. “It appears that my cancer is back. It’s in my lungs now.”

  The words stung like a slap in the face. Think of something positive to say.

  “I’m really sorry, Kelly. I know this is not good news, not at all what anyone wants to hear. But—at the risk of sounding like a massive cliché—you can beat this.”

  Kelly shook her head. “Well, that’s the thing, gorgeous. I can’t beat it—the doctor was pretty clear on that. I can just maybe buy some time. Hence his follow-up call this morning to make sure I didn’t pull a Virginia Woolf.”

  It took a beat for Marin to get the reference.

  “Oh, Kelly! How does your doctor know for sure?”

  Kelly smiled. “Marin, come on. We’re both grown-ups here.”

  “You need a second opinion. Come to New York. My former boss knows the head at—”

  “Marin, no. There isn’t a fancy doctor in New York or in Boston or on the moon who can fix this. It’s spread to my lungs, and my brain could be next. He said I’d be lucky to get six months. And who knows what state I’ll be in by the end.”

  Kelly called out for another shot. “Can you imagine that? To me, there’s nothing worse. Actual death isn’t as bad as living death.”

  “Kelly, don’t go there. You have to think positive. They say your mental outlook is really important—”

  Kelly touched her hand. “Marin, you have to promise me—swear to me—that you won’t tell Amelia.”

  “What? Kelly, you have to tell her. You can’t just blindside her one day, months from now. She needs to know what’s going on.” She couldn’t imagine Amelia without Kelly. With their twenty-year age difference, Amelia surely had always assumed she would be the one leaving Kelly behind. She had no doubt planned for that.

  Not for this.

  “I’m not going to blindside her. But I do want to enjoy this Fourth of July—and I want her to as well. Because it will be our last together.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Happy Fourth of July!” A waiter uncorked a bottle of champagne in Sandra Crowe’s foyer.

  “Fancy, fancy,” Nadine said.

  There was no kitschy Fourth of July décor in sight. The house was all white and beige and cream.

  “It’s a good house,” said Amelia. “Strong bones. Not my taste, but these high ceilings do make for a dramatic space. So where’s your piece, hon? I can’t wait to see it.”

  Kelly glanced around. “The dining room, I think? Sandra will show us, I’m sure.”

  “Unbelievable what rich people will waste their money on. Never fails to amaze me,” said Nadine.

  Kelly threw Amelia a look and said, “Okay. Well, then—I’m off to find the bar. Anyone else need a vodka shot?”

  Amelia wanted everyone to get along. It was Kelly’s favorite summer holiday. And now Nadine was being sour and threatening to spoil it. Her daughter obviously had mixed feelings about being back, and that was understandable. Kelly just had no patience for it, which was unlike her.

  Something was up with Kelly. Amelia had been eager to talk to her all day about Blythe’s revelation. She’d been involved with Nick! But Kelly had made herself scarce, skipping the parade and instead taking a long solo bike ride to the beach. When she finally got back, she had barely enough time to shower and change for the dinner party, never mind have a long conversation. And now they were at the party and she was already drifting away.

  Maybe she was just trying to give Amelia space to reconnect with Nadine. But it was impossible to entirely focus on Nadine when it was Blythe and Marin’s last night. She hated to admit it to herself, but Blythe’s confession that morning affected the way she felt toward Marin; she wasn’t just the product of an anonymous sperm donation. She was a love child. Nick’s love child!

  “There you are!” Sandra breezed into the entrance hall, her outstretched, beckoning arms covered in chunky gold bracelets. “The guest of honor!”

  She gave Kelly the European two-kiss greeting. Then she turned to Amelia and took one of her hands in both of hers. “It is so lovely of you to make it. Thank you for sharing your magnificent, talented wife with me. I am in love with the piece—in love.”

  “Amelia taught me everything I know,” Kelly said.

  Sandra clapped her hands together. “You two are adorable.” She turned to Nadine and introduced herself.

  “Oh, I’m sorry—where are my manners?” Amelia jumped in and made the round of introductions.

  “Are you ready to see my mermaid?” Sandra said. “I’ve named her: Ariel. The Little Mermaid! One of my favorite movies,” she said.

  “The cartoon?” said Nadine incredulously.

  Amelia bit her lip to keep from smiling.

  “What do you think?” Sandra asked Kelly. Amelia knew what Kelly was undoubtedly thinking: that Sandra had turned her mythical Siren into a Disney character.

  Before Kelly could respond, Sandra said, “We’re still on for you to do the window in my master bathroom, right? If anyone here tonight tries to steal you away from me, you just let me know. They’ll have to wait their turn.”

  Amelia squeezed Kelly’s hand.

  “Sure,” said Kelly.

  “How soon can you start?”

  “I have one piece before it. But I can come measure the window soon and we can talk about color and design.”

  “Fabulous! This weekend?”

  Kelly hesitated, then said, “Sure. Why not.”

  Sandra snapped her fingers at Tanya. “Gather everyone in the dining room.”

  Amelia, Kelly, Nadine, and the girls followed Sandra across the foyer into a cavernous room with a marble table that could seat twenty. On the farthest wall, behind the head seat of the table, was Kelly’s mosaic. It looked absolutely magnificent, dramatic in the space. The room, painted oxblood, picked up all the deep tones of the piece.

  Waiters handed them flutes of champagne. Behind them, voices of the other party guests filled the hall.

  “Everyone, gather round,” Sandra sang out, moving a chair out of the way so she could stand at the head of the table. “I’m so delighted to have you all here to celebrate the Fourth of July. Tonight, we have a special guest, the brilliant artist Kelly Hanauer. This fabulous piece behind me is her work, so, Kelly, why don’t you come up here and tell us a little bit about it.”

  Kelly looked at Amelia, a deer in headlights.

  “Might as well get it over with,” Amelia murmured to her.

  “If I’d known this was going to be a dog-and-pony show, I would never have come.”

  “It’s the price of doing business, my dear,” Amelia said. “I’ll hold your drink.”

  Kelly reluctantly walked to the front of the table and stood next to Sandra.

  “Thanks, Sandra. I’m so happy to see it in this space—you gave her a perfect home. As you can all see, the design is a mermaid, and she’s formed from a combination of materials including stones, shells, mother-of-pearl, stained glass…”

  Across the room, Amelia saw Nadine and Marin talking. Amelia’s vision blurred, and for a fraction of a second, it was Nadine and Nick.

  Her heart beat fast at the thought of the last time she’d seen her children together. They’d come at her like wolves, Nick shouting, Nadine crying and breaking things. Had she deserved it? Yes. When parents hurt their children, purposefully or not, they get what they get.

  The first fear, her immediate thought when Nick discovered her with Kelly, was that he would tell Otto. Oh, how foolish she’d been. As if her marriage mattered at all in the big picture. By that time, it was already over. They were both drifting, going through the motions. Still, the horror she’d felt at the thought of him learning of her affair. It wa
s funny how much time one wasted worrying about the wrong things.

  In the end, Otto had forgiven her. And when he died, she’d genuinely mourned him. Without her family, because Nick was gone by that time and Nadine did not come home to bury her father. Even for that unjustifiable, selfish act, Amelia blamed herself. She had set the family adrift, and so in the end it all came back to her.

  Yes, Otto had forgiven her. But Nick…

  “I love her,” he’d spit.

  “Love who?” Amelia had asked, genuinely bewildered. The conversation took place in the kitchen the day after Nick had walked in on her and Kelly.

  “Kelly!”

  “What? Since when?”

  “Since freshman year! I’m the one who convinced her to spend the summer here!”

  Amelia panicked. Had Kelly been with Nick and then turned to her?

  “You’ve been dating her? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “No, I wasn’t with her! She’s barely been around this entire month. And now I know why.”

  “What’s all the screaming about?” Nadine appeared in the doorway.

  “Oh, nothing much,” said Nick. “Mom’s just been fucking Kelly.”

  Nadine, her olive skin burnished even darker from a month in the sun, turned white.

  “Stop it,” Nadine said. “That’s not true.”

  “Tell her,” Nick said.

  Amelia looked helplessly between the stricken faces of her two children. “I’m sorry.”

  “How could you do this to Dad?”

  Ah, yes—there it was. Nadine had always been very much a daddy’s girl, which had been adorable when she was a child. But it became less adorable as Nadine grew older and forgave Otto for every misstep while blaming Amelia for everything. It did not matter that for all the summers in recent memory, Otto had made it clear that he preferred twelve-hour days of fishing to any time spent as a husband or father. Otto, who drank from the moment he stepped foot in the house at six at night until he passed out. She had been sleeping on the foldout couch in her studio at the house in Boston for years and had moved into one of the extra bedrooms on the second floor at the beach house—not that her children thought anything of it. She didn’t know what she had done wrong as a mother to make Nick and Nadine think of herself and Otto only as their caregivers, not as individuals with their own needs and frailties. Maybe that was how all children were until they became parents themselves. Amelia never got the chance to find out.