Elin Hilderbrand - Summer People

“I’m a difficult child, too,” he said. “That’s how my dad dying changed me.”

“So we’re two difficult children,” Piper said. She locked her hands behind Garrett’s back and pressed her hips against his. “However, I notice you haven’t pierced your nose.”

“Not yet,” he said. “But maybe I will.”

“You have such a pretty nose,” she said. “Don’t ruin it.”

“ You have a pretty nose,” Garrett said. He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose, then lifted her chin and kissed her lips. She tasted smoky, but smoky like charcoal, not cigarettes. He kissed her again, parting her lips with his tongue. She kissed him back for a second or two, enough time for Garrett to marvel at his good fortune, but then she pushed him gently away.

“I’m difficult, as in, not easy,” she said.

“Oh,” Garrett said. He was dying, dying, to kiss her, but he liked it that she had boundaries. And he had all summer to knock them down, so he gave up without asking for more. He took her hand and led her down the beach.

At ten o’clock, Beth found herself sitting alone at the table with David. The candles were burnt down to nubs, and two quarts of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food had been decimated-Marcus finished one quart single-handedly before he excused himself and headed upstairs. Garrett and Piper were still on their walk-they’d been gone for over an hour, a fact which embarrassed Beth-and Peyton had wandered into the living room, plucked a paperback off the shelf and fell asleep reading in the recliner. Her soft snoring was audible in the dining room where Beth and David nursed the last two glasses of wine.

“Was dinner a success?” Beth asked. Her words came out slurred. It had been a long time since she drank this much. Across the table, David had taken on a mystical aura. Was that really David Ronan in this house after so many years?

“Huge success,” David said. “If only because we managed to get rid of all the kids.”

“Winnie never even showed her face,” Beth said.

“I’d like to meet her sometime,” David said. “Is she beautiful like her mother?”

“She’s beautiful like Winnie,” Beth said. “But she’s very sad. I don’t know what to do to help her.”

“She needs time,” David said. He lowered his voice. “What’s the deal with Marcus? I asked him if he was a friend of the kids’ from school, and he said no.”

Beth dropped her head into her hands. “It’s a long story. I don’t want to get into it.”

David stood up. “Come on. Let’s go out onto the deck.”

“I don’t think we should.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Beth said. Her voice was louder than she meant it to be, and she noticed a snag in Peyton’s breathing, but then the gentle snoring resumed. “Because,” Beth said again, “I’m drunk and I can’t help the things I’m thinking.”

“Such as?”

“Such as, what are you doing here?”

“Aside from drinking myself silly?”

“Why did I bump into you at the grocery store my first day here? Why did I ask you to dinner? Why did you have my name stuck to your dashboard?”

David extended his hand. “Let’s go out to the deck. Your grandfather built that deck for nights like this one.”

Beth rose but she didn’t take David’s hand. Instead she carried her wineglass forward carefully, solemnly, like a chalice. Out onto the deck they went.

The beach was dark below them. “Should we be worried about the kids?” Beth asked.

“Garrett seemed trustworthy.”

“Is Piper trustworthy?”

“With everyone but me.”

“She’s a lot angrier about you and Rosie splitting up than you realize.”

“She’s not angry about us splitting. She’s angry at me, alone, because I won’t give Rosie my blessing.”

Beth lay back in the chaise lounge and David pulled a chair up next to her. Beth closed her eyes. Six summers she’d spent with this man-from ages sixteen to twenty-one. That last summer was the most magical summer of her life, until it ended. Ended with Beth’s father throwing David out of this house, and Beth watching the whole scene from up in her room, like a princess locked in a tower. She was twenty-one, an adult, with only a year left at Sarah Lawrence; she could have defied her father. That was what David wrote later in the letters that arrived at her college post office box. You could have defied your father. You could have honored our commitment.

Beth thought fleetingly of the purple cosmos.

“I never told my kids about us,” she said. She took a deep breath. “And I never told Arch.”

“You never told Arch?” David asked.

“No,” she said, the guilt souring the back of her throat. On top of everything else, the guilt. “I decided to keep that part of my past private. What about your girls?”

“I’m not sure how much they know. Rosie might have said something. She was always jealous of you, because you were first.”

“Arch wasn’t jealous of anyone,” Beth said. “He wouldn’t have been jealous of you, even if I had told him the truth. Arch was a man who was perfectly confident in who he was and content with all he’d been given. He never looked sideways, only forward.” Just speaking this way about Arch revived Beth. She sat up. “I’m glad you came tonight, David Ronan,” she said. “It was good to see you. And to meet your girls. They’re beautiful.”

“Why does it feel like I’m getting thrown out?” David said. He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “The reason why your name was on my dashboard was because I wanted it there.”

It was chilly out, but Beth flushed. Heat bloomed in her chest. He wanted her name there.

“Where I could see it.” He let his hand fall onto her thigh, as lightly as a leaf.

“This is not okay,” she said, lifting his hand. “I’m not yours to touch.”

“But you were.”

“Yes, I was. Twenty-five years ago. In the interim, though, I married Arch and had two children and lived a very happy and fulfilled life that came to an end three months ago.”

“I understand,” he said. “You’re not ready.”

“I may never be ready.”

“Well, if and when you are…”

“David…”

“You don’t have to say anything else. I’m sorry I’m being forward. Is it okay if we see each other again?”

“See each other, how?”

“Can I take you to breakfast in the morning?”

“No.”

“Lunch?”

“No.”

“How about the sunset, then, in Madaket?”

“I can watch the sun set from here.”

“Fine,” he said. “Be that way.”

“You can call me,” Beth said.

He seemed placated by that, but only for a second. “This house has no phone,” he said.

“That’s right.”

“Do you have a cell phone?” he asked.

“In New York,” Beth said. “I didn’t bring it. I didn’t anticipate having suitors.”

“So how will I call you?”

“I guess you won’t. But we’ll bump into each other. It’s a small island, David. Right now, though, you must go.”

“Well, I’m not leaving without my daughter.”

“No, I guess you’re not,” Beth said. She felt guilty because she was the mother of the boy. If it were Winnie out there, she’d feel panicked. But before she could wonder too long about where Garrett had taken Piper, she heard voices, and a minute later, the kids ascended the stairs holding hands. Beth smiled. When Beth and David were seventeen, they’d been dating for a year already. They’d had sex already. They’d said “I love you” already and meant it with all their hearts.