Page 53 of Summer Light on Nantucket

“But you are here, and he’s hungry, and I need to go home.” Celeste rose.

“Stay for dinner. I’m heating up a casserole.”

“Thank you for asking, but I’m meeting Roland at the club.”

Blythe kissed Celeste’s cheek as she left. She heated the casserole inthe microwave and made a salad, singing at the top of her lungs, which she often did to let the children know she was here, and preparing dinner. All the children swarmed in to set the table, pour glasses of water, and somehow everyone seemed to talk at once while also almost inhaling the food.

Then they helped clean the kitchen and disappeared in different directions. The front door slammed. The television blasted a Marvel movie into the air. Miranda and Brooks played badminton in the backyard, screaming with laughter.

Blythe called Nick and told him about her new job. They talked while the sun set and the moon rose high in the sky.

When she went to bed, she found a text from Aaden.

I miss you. I wanted to send a shot of me smiling on the Ha’Penny Bridge, but the rain has been constant and the sky gray, so I will wait. Here’s Awen’s office on Merrion Square. It’s handsome, don’t you think, even in the rain?

Please send me a photo of your lovely self so I can have some sunshine in my life. Love you.

Blythe started typing but erased her words and started again. To say that the weather was beautiful on Nantucket seemed mean. To tell him to hurry back would be misleading. To mention Nick would be wrong, and premature. Her feelings were in a whirlpool.

We’ve been busy here. I’ve gone kayaking in the sunshine (sorry). Good luck with your work.

She knew her message lacked warmth, but it was the best she could do. To soften the bluntness, she addedXO.

She set her phone on the bedside table. She was smiling an absolutely silly smile, and she hugged herself.

“I’m so popular!” she said to the room, and laughed at herself, snickering as she nestled into her pillow.

fireworks

Over the next few days, Blythe was the perfect mother. She let Holly invite three girls for a sleepover and asked Brooks to sleep on the living room sofa for one night so the girls could take over the family room and television. She didn’t tell the girls to quiet down until after midnight, and when they woke up at ten the next morning, Blythe treated them all to strawberry waffles with whipped cream. She allowed Miranda to take Brooks and her best island friend, Serena, and Serena’s boyfriend, Riley, to dinner at the yacht club, just the four of them. She bought Teddy a new tennis racket and spent one morning with Daphne picking up beer cans and plastic bags from Cisco Beach.

Nick had to return to Boston for a couple of days, but he called her every night. Blythe snuggled into her pillows with the bedroom lights off as they talked about the music they loved: Miles Davis for Nick, and, unashamedly, Taylor Swift for Blythe. They discovered they shared the same taste in books: mysteries by Ian Rankin and Val McDermid,nonfiction by Nat Philbrick, novels by Carl Hiaasen. What favorite food would they eat all the time if they didn’t have to worry about health or calories? Chocolate, of course, for Blythe. Beer for Nick. But was beer a food? They discussed this seriously. Nick’s marriage, his teaching career. Blythe’s marriage and teaching career. Nick had been seeing a woman named Elena who was a professional singer. Blythe told Nick about Aaden, her first serious boyfriend (she did not say her first true love), who lived in Ireland and sometimes visited Nantucket.

The evening Nick returned to the island, he took Blythe out to dinner. She went crazy getting ready. Did the cleavage on this dress dip too low? And on this dress, not low enough? Dangling earrings were sexy, but were they too sexy? Her legs were spectacular in her heels, but she didn’t want to get stuck between the bricks on the sidewalks—that had happened once and she hadn’t recovered from the embarrassment yet.

She stared at herself in the mirror. “What is going on?” she asked her reflection.

Her reflection didn’t answer. But something was changing, as if a door she’d never seen before had opened, and she wanted to pass through, but was frightened. She didn’t want to be hurt again.

But she did want to be loved.

She heard the Bronco pull into the driveway. Her heart danced. The sight of him at her front door gave her butterflies in her rib cage. She’d forgotten how tall he was, and now he was very tan, which made his eyes gleam like melted chocolate.

“Hello,” she said, and grinned like a love-struck kid.

“Hello,” he said back and bent forward and kissed her, right there in the doorway.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and softly kissed him, and they maneuvered into the front hall and shut the door and Blythe leaned against the door and Nick leaned against her and they kissed and kissed.

“We could go to bed now,” Blythe whispered, flushing red, shameless as a hussy and glad. “No children here tonight.”

She was surprised when Nick pulled away. “I never sleep with a woman on the second date.” His eyes were dancing.

“Maybe now’s the time,” she told him.

“We have a reservation for dinner at the Languedoc,” he reminded her.

“Oh, if wemust,” Blythe sighed, smiling.

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