Page 62 of Summer Light on Nantucket

Blythe thought that if he’d suggested swimming to Hyannis she would agree.

“I’d love that.”

They left the club and strolled along the busy island streets. They passed an old woody station wagon, a banged-up Jeep with the soft-top down, a red Ferrari, and a silver Jaguar, all stalled by the holiday traffic, sandwiched between SUVs. Laughter floated out of Lola 41.They turned onto Easton Street, walked past the White Elephant hotel, and continued until they arrived at the beach sloping down to the water.

The sand was still warm from the day. The Brant Point Lighthouse stood steadily at the curve of sand that all boats rounded to enter the inner harbor. Its red light flashed every four seconds. Blythe and Nick settled on the sand and gazed out over the yachts and rowboats, Boston Whalers and sailboats, lying lightly in the calm water, their cabins bright with lamps.

“Nick,” Blythe said, “you have such a beautiful voice. Did you ever sing professionally?”

“No. First I wanted to be an astronaut. Seriously. Then, a majorleague pitcher. Typical boy dreams. In high school, I formed a band with some friends, and for a while I wanted to sing professionally. But our band broke up when we went to college. I didn’t know what I wanted, so I drifted through the required courses. When I was a junior, I met Brielle. She sang, too. She had a lovely voice.” Nick was silent for a while. “Anyway, we were realistic about our futures. Brielle was planning to teach chemistry, so I got my degree in education. We thought that way we could have the same holidays.” He paused, remembering. “And we did have the same holidays. We taught in the same school district and raised our sons. When Brielle was dying…” Nick cleared his throat. For a moment, it seemed he couldn’t go on.

Blythe remained silent, respecting his sorrow.

“While Brielle was dying, she asked me to sing for her. I sang for her, and this made her happy. She was too weak to sing with me, but I saw by the way she closed her eyes and rested that I was helping her. Somehow, I was helping her. She made me promise never to stop singing.”

After a few moments, Blythe said, “Nick, that’s beautiful.”

“Now.” Nick’s voice was gruff. “Tell me about you.”

“All right. Let’s see…” Blythe gathered her thoughts. “I was an only child. I was shy. I was lonely. In high school, I met a wrestler named Aaden, and for a couple of years, he was the center of my life. He went off to Ireland, so that was the end of us. I came to Nantucket to live with my grandmother and work at a summer camp. I loved it. I loved the kids. I knew I wanted to become a teacher.”

“Go on,” Nick prompted.

“I studied education in college. I met Bob at a graduation party. We married, I taught for a while, and then we had the children and I became a very happy stay-at-home mom. The past few years I’ve worked occasionally as a substitute teacher.”

The nine o’clock Hy-Line fast ferry ruffled the water as it headed for the dock. Blythe and Nick went quiet, watching.

“Also,” she confessed, “I love to read. I live to read. If I have a good book, I’m content. More than content, happy. You know how you feel when you enter a house and it seems to already be yours? You like the way the light comes through the windows and the warmth of the rooms? That’s how I am with books. I have my tough times, bad times, like everyone else, but I’ve made it through hard days by knowing a good book was there waiting for me by my bed.” Blythe laughed. “That probably explains why Bob and I are divorced. After getting four children to bed, I wanted a book more than I wanted Bob.”

“I get that,” Nick said. “I’m like that about music.”

“Any kind of music?”

“Every kind. Waltzes, rock, rap. All of it.”

“I’ve never waltzed before. I’ve always wanted to. It looks so dreamy.”

“I’ll waltz with you sometime,” Nick promised.

Happiness bubbled through her. “I’d like that.”

The clock on the Unitarian church chimed eleven times.

“Oh, dear,” Blythe said. “I should go home. My children will think I’ve gotten lost.”

“Or kidnapped,” Nick said with a gentle smile.

Blythe rose, unsteady in the shifting sand. Nick caught hold of her and they stood looking at each other and finally they kissed.

And kissed.

Blythe thought she’d forgotten this kind of greedy, delicious kissing. She wrapped her arms around Nick. He put his hands on her hips and cradled her against him, and she pushed into him so forcefully they almost fell over.

Nick pulled away. “We need to stop. This is too public. Everyone can see.”

“Let’s go over into the bushes,” Blythe pleaded. She laughed, slightly hysterical. “I don’t mean that, I don’t want to go over to the bushes, but I want…”

He smiled. “I do, too. But not tonight.”

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