Page 83 of Songs of Summer

“You got this, Juno, just like we practiced.”

Her eyes filled with fear.

“You can walk with her,” Renee said before bringing Ben in for a hug.

“I feel her too,” she whispered in his ear.

She was referring to Ben’s first wife, her best friend, Julia. Her physical absence was palpable today, but he was comforted by the fact that Renee felt her spirit as he did.

Juno breathed an audible sigh of relief, causing their serious mood to shift to laughter. Together, they peeked out at the beach.

It felt as if the whole town had come out to see the two lifelong Fire Islanders tie the knot. Aside from the invited guests seated in rows of chairs on the sand, the beach stairsof the surrounding blocks were covered with onlookers, as was the length of sand in front of the dunes. Everyone stood close enough to see, but far enough away not to intrude.

Renee motioned that it was time to begin, and a trio of musicians played the first notes of Van Morrison’s musical voyage “Into the Mystic.”

A perfect blend of nostalgia and hope, as if the words were written for this exact occasion. The crowd settled soon after the music began, the tune blending beautifully with the crashing waves.

Jake and Dylan walked barefoot across the sand first, their fingers intertwined as tightly as their hearts. It wasn’t lost on anybody there that these two had a bond beyond most fathers and daughters. For thirty years they had been each other’s person, with no one to come between them. Of course, it was time for them both. They held their warm embrace at the end of the aisle before Jake took his spot under the chuppah.

Ben sent Maisie on her way, spinning down the aisle, dropping petals in her wake, before escorting Juno on his arm. He had a hard time controlling the boyish grin that sprung right from his heart.

Next, Matt reached out his hand to his mother. The two embraced at the top of the stairs, inspiring another collective “aw” from the crowd. They walked, barefoot and hand in hand, to the groom, who was doing his best to fight off tears. It was both shocking and heartwarming to see Jake so verklempt.

Matt and Renee embraced. Matt kissed his mother on the cheek and whispered “I love you” before meeting Dylan under the chuppah. Jake took two steps forward and gatheredhis bride close and the two did an impromptu dance in the sand, inspiring laughter and happy tears from all the onlookers.

There was something so special about it, as if no one had done this exact dance before.

The rabbi’s words of welcome that followed were carried away by the breeze, causing everyone to take a few steps closer to hear them. He spoke about the beauty surrounding them, matching the beauty in Jake and Renee’s hearts. The two sweetly spoke the vows they had written themselves to the soundtrack of waves crashing to the shore, before repeating after the rabbi in Hebrew.

Ani L’dodi, v’dodi li.

I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine.

They exchanged rings and one long passionate kiss under the warm glow of the setting sun. Matt and Dylan joined them, basking in the glow of their new family. Well, three of them were basking; Matt seemed to be somewhere else. Ben followed his eyes to the row behind him, where he was not surprised to find the object of Matt’s mystic gaze—Maggie.

Track 39

Champagne Problems

The Dinner Hour According to Chase Logan

Chase was nervous.Not because he was tasked with pouring a hundred glasses of champagne into tall, fragile stemware lined up like soldiers at the exact right time, since nobody likes warm champagne. And not because the caterer, with his unplaceable accent, gave a ten-minute lecture on the subject of pouring said champagne as if they were aboard a fancy yacht in the south of a fancy country Chase had never visited.

“Hold the bottle by the bottom, like a bowling ball, your thumb in the divot, your other four fingers splayed around it. Wet the glass with just a splash of champagne, allowing the bubbles to settle first.”

And Chase was not nervous because the Silver sisters would be at the wedding, though judging from the other night at the Salty Pelican, Veronica might become a frequent, and eventually sloppy, visitor to the bar.

Chase was nervous because of Maggie. He had lain awake all night thinking about their interactions before begging his buddy to get him the last-minute position. He wanted to seehis daughter again and he had something for her, something that had been burning a hole in his pocket for over thirty years.

Chase could see the throngs of partygoers approaching the dock, each one greeted by the familiar deckhands from the ferry unfamiliarly cleaned up and dressed in white button-down shirts and jackets. He knew 90 percent of the people at the wedding but wouldn’t be making much small talk with them because, as the caterer specified, he was not fond of chatty help. The pay was generous, and Chase knew that the more he made in the summers, the longer he could spend surfing in Costa Rica in the winters.

He saw Maggie through the window, walking between Matt and the other guy she had been with at the bar. She was a pretty girl. She carried herself with confidence, and he wondered what her life had been like, whether she had always known she was adopted, and whether she liked her adoptive parents or felt like an alien. Hell, Chase had felt like an alien half the time in his own house while growing up, and he wasn’t adopted.

He was surprised that seeing the girl in person had elicited thoughts he had never considered before.

In any case, from the little they had spoken, she seemed very together, educated, and even poised. She was lucky to have grown up without him as a father. That thought made him feel like crap about himself and his lack of accomplishments in life. Who knows, maybe if he had been a father raising a child, he would have risen to the occasion and made something of himself. He hadn’t felt this bad since the days of running around with some of the people at this party. They had all gone to schools with fancy names like Skidmoreand Swarthmore and I Know More Than You Do, while his future at the time had been predicated on whether or not his uncle could get him into the welders’ union.

“It’s showtime,” the caterer barked.

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