Page 54 of Summer Light on Nantucket

They walked into town, holding hands, talking all the way. Their table at the restaurant was on the second floor, and the restaurant was full of happy, good-looking people. Blythe felt happy and good-looking, too. They talked about their early days of teaching, and what things had changed and what had stayed the same. They enjoyed oysters on the half shell and white wine, and salmon caught in Scotland, and more white wine, and bittersweet chocolate pot de crème, which made Blythe close her eyes and lick her lips.

“I could take a photo of you right now and blackmail you,” Nick teased.

“If you bought me another pot de crème, I’d let you,” Blythe replied. “But you know I don’t have much money.”

“It’s not money I’d want,” he told her, smiling.

When they left the restaurant, the sky was high and pale with a curved moon above them. They walked around town, stopping to listen to the street musicians. They went into Mitchell’s Book Corner and Nick ushered Blythe up to the poetry section.

“What poets do you read?” Nick asked.

“I’m stuck in the nineteenth century with the Romantic poets like Coleridge and Keats,” she told him. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m much more in the here and now,” Nick said, grinning.

He pulled out a slim volume of poems by Mary Oliver.

Blythe read one of the poems. “How have I missed her?” She held the book tight to her breast.

Nick held a book of poems by Mark Doty. “Read ‘Spent,’ ” he said.

Blythe read it. “Thank you for showing me. I’ll buy this, too. Don’t show me more. Not tonight, I mean. I’m overwhelmed with emotion. I’d forgotten the impact of poetry. I feel as if I’ve been hit in the stomach. How do you know about the poems? Nick, all I want to do for the rest of my life is read these poets.”

“I hope that’s notallyou want to do,” Nick said with a grin.

They bought the books and a new novel and went back out onto the street. Now the sky was dark, but shop lights shone, illuminating their way. They strolled into the library garden and sat together on a bench beneath a tall, swaying magnolia tree.

They talked about poetry and poets. Nick told her about Ogden Nash, an American poet and humorist. He brought up Nash’s poem “Just Keep Quiet and Nobody Will Notice” and Blythe burst into laughter.

“That one!” she said. “I’ll use that one in class.”

They spoke about favorite movies and actors and if streaming was a gift or a curse. They compared musicians and artists and novels. They shared memories of their childhood pets and made a pact to adopt a rescue dog or cat when they returned to their real lives in the fall. They discussed what they should do on Columbus Day weekend. They agreed they should all come to Nantucket.

It was after midnight when Nick walked Blythe back home. She quietly worried that such a blissful evening would mean she’d find chaos and drama back in her house, but she was wrong. Holly’s bike was halfway into the garage. Teddy’s enormous rubber sandals were left at the front door as Blythe had insisted he do to stop tracking entire dunes of sand into the house. Daphne’s Red Sox baseball cap had been tossed onto the hall table. Only signs of Miranda were missing.

Blythe and Nick stood in the front hall, holding each other.

“The kids are here,” Blythe told Nick. “We’ve missed our window of opportunity.”

“True,” Nick answered. “But I’m sure we’ll have many opportunities in the future.”

Something magical shivered inside Blythe, all the way down.

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On the Fourth of July, Nantucket morphed into an island carnival. Blythe and the children usually trekked down to Jetties Beach with hundreds of other people, to spread blankets on the sand and lie back to watch the spectacular fireworks display the town provided.

This year was different, and Blythe realized with a pang that from now on all summers would be different. Miranda and Brooks left to join a group of friends at the beach. Celeste and Roland were invited to the home of a friend who had a deck that provided a perfect view of the fireworks, plus comfortable chairs to sit in while watching.

“My days of lowering myself to the ground to watch the sky have passed,” Celeste told Blythe. “And my days of getting up off the sand have absolutely gone by.” She began to laugh. “If Roland tried to help me, we would both fall over each other like a pair of circus clowns. No, I’m delighted that I’ll be sitting in a chair.”

Teddy was spending the evening and night with his friend Azey, which left Blythe alone with Daphne and Holly. Blythe was trying to think of a way to make this holiday special—for so many years, the family had spectacular cookouts, with Bob displaying his manly skills by flipping hamburgers, hot dogs, corn on the cob, lobster tails, and often fish wrapped in foil with butter and veggies, on their very large Weber grill. After Blythe and Bob were divorced, even though the Nantucket house belonged to Blythe, Bob insisted on taking the grill to his mother’s house because for years the family had called him “Grill Tsar” and had gifted him with an apron and a chef’s toque printed with that title. When Blythe reminded Bob that he could always buy another grill, rather than hauling their old one over to Celeste’s house, he told her that his grill was seasoned, perfect now for grilling.

Loyal sister Kate, standing by, had chimed in, “He’s right, Blythe. Men and their grills are a thing.”

So, three years ago, Blythe had bought another grill and barbecued on it, but she didn’t really have the knack. The burgers were black on the outside, bloody on the inside. The next year, Teddy had bravely attempted to grill on the Fourth of July, but he couldn’t get it right, either, although the family ate his blackened on the outside, raw on the inside burgers and pretended they were delicious.

This year, Blythe made reservations for them at the yacht club, and it was the perfect thing to do. Sandy invited Blythe and her children to join her and her husband for dinner and the fireworks. Miranda and Teddy were with friends for the night, down with the crowd at Jetties Beach.

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