Page 49 of Summer Reading

Biopsy?! Situation?!This couldn’t be good. I felt my insides grow cold with the dread that my friend might be really sick.

I tried to picture Martha’s Vineyard without Em. I couldn’t do it. She was as much a part of my memories here as the rugosa roses that bloomed in summer, the warning blast of the ferry’s horn when it was about to depart, and the sound of the surf as it pounded the shore. I simply could not lose her.

Chapter Twelve

Mercifully, the biopsy didn’t take that long. Em had a big old bandage on her neck that looked like she was trying to hide the world’s biggest hickey or a vampire bite.

“Are you sure you can drive home?” I asked. “I should have driven you here. Why didn’t we do that?”

“Because you needed to take Tyler to robotics.”

“He could have walked.” I waved my hand at her. “How about I follow you home? Just so I know you arrive okay.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said. “I mean, I’m still numb, but if it will make you feel better—”

“It will,” I interrupted.

“Okay.”

I followed her in her ancient vehicle across the island from Edgartown back to Oak Bluffs. It was only a twenty-minute drive along the Beach Road and, as always, when I drove over the Jaws Bridge, made iconic by the film, I slowed to watch a few tourists taking the plunge off the bridge. I remembered doing that on adare as a teenager, and I wondered if Tyler had ever done it. It was a rite of passage back in my day, but I doubted that his crowd felt the same way. Suddenly, I felt practically middle-aged. Ugh.

Em parked in front of her house, which was much like ours, with a big front porch and hydrangea bushes in full bloom. I parked behind her and got out in case she needed help getting settled with pain meds or anything.

I also needed to talk to her about this biopsy. While it was most definitely not my business, I was still going to grill her. Oh yes, I was. Patient privacy did not extend to best friends.

“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” she said. “It’s not like it’s our first date.”

Her smile was wan, and I could tell she was tired.

“Oh, I’m walking you in,” I said. “Then I’m making you a cup of tea.”

“Fine,” she said.

“Where is your mom?” I asked. Em had moved home after college, and even though she frequently talked about getting her own place, she never had. I wondered about that, and realized this was one of the many conversations we should have been having over the years. I promised myself I would do better.

“She’s shopping the outlets in Maine with my aunt,” she said. “They won’t be back for another week.”

“Ah, so that’s why you did the biopsy today,” I said. “So, she wouldn’t worry.”

“Yeah.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open. I glanced around. The Allen house was exactly as I remembered it. Same granny square afghan across the back of the couch, likewise the potbellied woodstove in the corner. It even smelled the same, like lemon furniture polish and lavender potpourri. In many ways it felt more like coming home than my own house did.

Em collapsed onto the couch while I went right into the kitchen and put the kettle on. I fished around in the pantry until I found the herbal teas. I chose a mellowing chamomile.

While the kettle heated up, I went back to check on Em. “Need anything?”

She shook her head. “I was so nervous, I didn’t sleep at all last night, which was why I took the day off. I’m just going to lie here and listen to some audiobooks.”

I remembered having Ben read to me, and I felt my face get warm at the memory of his low voice painting pictures in my mind and luring me deeper into the story with every page.

“You all right?” she asked. “You look flushed.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I said. It was moment-of-truth time. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay,” she said. She sounded groggy and I hesitated.

The kettle hit optimum whistle just then, and I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t relieved. I was nervous about telling her I was going on a date with Ben. Not that Em would mind, but that talking about it made it a thing. And if it was a thing, it had the potential for disaster. I wasn’t sure, given the rough few months I’d just had, that I was up for more of that.

I fussed with the tea, making two mugs with honey and a splash of milk, and then carried them back to the living room. I put Em’s down on a coaster on the coffee table, which was a challenge, as it was piled high in books, and took a seat in the armchair across from her.

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