Barefoot (41 page)

“Who is it?”

“It’s none of your business,” Melanie said. Already she was chastising herself—Josh was secret from everybody, and that meant secret from Peter, too. But Melanie couldn’t help herself. She had wanted to tell Peter about Josh since the first night of her and Josh together, in the garden of the ’Sconset Chapel. She wanted Peter to know that she had settled the score. She had a lover, too!

“Well,” Peter said. “Okay then.”

“Okay then,” Melanie said.

“He stays with you here?” Peter said.

“No,” Melanie said. “But that doesn’t mean that you can stay here.”

Peter held up his palms. “Say no more. I get the picture. I’ll book myself a room. Maybe at that place out by the airport.”

Melanie tilted her head. She was torn, too, between the nice person she really was and the mean, spiteful person she wanted to be. “They might not have anything available.”

“I’ll check.”

“Why don’t you just go home, Peter?”

“Oh, no,” he said. “I’m not giving up that easily.”

“This isn’t a game, Peter. I’m not a trophy you can win back.”

“I know that,” he said. “But I’m not leaving this island until you’re certain with every cell of your body that I love you. I’m a genuine person, Mel.”

“You are not.”

“I am genuine in this,” he said. He came around the table and folded himself in half to embrace her. The hug was awkward, but like the kiss, there was something distinct about it, something earnest.

“Let me take you out,” Peter said. “Anywhere you want to go.”

This was the old Peter talking.
Let me spend money on you.

“No,” Melanie said.

“So, what are you saying? I get to see you for five minutes and that’s it? You won’t even eat with me?”

“That is correct.”

“Oh, come on, Mel. I took off from work. I flew all the way up here.”

“No one asked you to. If you had called, I would have told you to stay home.”

“You
have
to have dinner with me. Please?”

“You don’t get it, Peter. You hurt me. You broke my heart. You destroyed my trust in you.”

“I know, Mel, I know. I’m trying to tell you it’s over and I’m sorry. That’s why I’m here. Just let me stay and have dinner with you. That’s all I’m asking for. Dinner with you. Please, Mel.”

“Fine,” Melanie said. “But we eat here.”

“With Vicki? And . . .”

“Her sister, Brenda. Yes.”

“Ahhhh,” Peter said. He didn’t want to have dinner with Vicki and Brenda, of course he didn’t, but this was the first test. “Okay. Sure thing.” He hoisted his overnight bag. “Would it be okay if I changed my clothes?”

“Peter!”

Melanie ground her molars together as Blaine launched himself into Peter’s arms. Here was something Melanie hadn’t considered. Vicki and Brenda might not mention Peter’s presence to Josh (she would ask them not to, for what reason, Melanie had yet to conjure)—but Blaine would tell Josh immediately, first thing.

Peter laughed. “At least someone is happy to see me. How’re you doing, buddy?”

“Good,” Blaine said.

Peter set Blaine down. “You’re getting tall. How old are you now? Seven?”

Blaine beamed. “I’m four and a half.”

“See? You’re so tall I thought you were seven.”

“Did you come with my dad?” Blaine asked.

“No,” Peter said. “I came by myself. I wanted to see Melanie.”

Blaine looked puzzled. “What for?”

“Melanie’s my wife. Remember?”

“She is?”

“Well . . . ,” Melanie said.

“What?” Peter said. “You are my wife.”

Vicki and Brenda were as quiet as thieves in the kitchen as they pulled dinner together. They had been shocked by Peter’s presence, but Melanie couldn’t tell if they were happy for her that her husband had come back, or if they were angry and disapproving. Brenda had been more visibly stunned, Vicki more openly cynical with Peter, but she had known him a long time.

“And the baby in here,” Peter said, patting Melanie’s belly, “is my baby and Melanie’s baby.”

“It is?” Blaine said.

“Amazing,” Brenda said from the kitchen. Her voice was just loud enough for Melanie and Peter to hear.

Angry,
Melanie thought.
Disapproving.

“Peter brought some wine,” Melanie said. “Brenda, would you like some? Vicki?”

“Yes,” Brenda said.

“Yes,” Vicki said.

Melanie poured three glasses. She was dying to take a sip herself, but no, she wouldn’t.

Blaine said, “Want to go outside and throw rocks with me?”

“Sure,” Peter said. “I love to throw rocks.”

The front screen door slammed behind them.

“I’d like to throw some rocks at him,” Vicki said.

“Vick . . . ,” Melanie said.

“Sorry,” Vicki said. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“I don’t feel sorry,” Brenda said. “You spent so many weeks feeling miserable because of that jerk, I think we have a right to be angry. I mean, what is the deal with the show-up-out-of-the-blue tactics?”

“He knew if he asked, I’d say no.”

“You should have told him to go to hell,” Brenda said.

“He’s not staying here,” Melanie said.

“He got a hotel?” Vicki said.

“I think he’s planning on staying out by the airport,” Melanie said, though she knew Peter had done nothing about booking a room. And not only that, but Peter’s overnight bag was resting possessively on the other twin bed in Melanie’s room.

“I see they gave you the nun’s quarters,” Peter had said when he walked into Melanie’s room. “Do you and your lover share a twin bed?”

“I told you, he doesn’t stay here.”

“I can see why,” Peter said. He’d proceeded to make himself comfortable, changing into shorts and a polo shirt right in front of Melanie. Watching him undress had seemed strange, and she’d nearly excused herself from the room. But he was her husband. How many times had she seen him undress before? Hundreds. Thousands.

“Who is it?” Peter said. “Some rich guy with a house on the beach?”

“I’m not telling you who it is,” Melanie said. “It doesn’t concern you.”

“It does concern me. You’re my wife. You’re carrying my child.”

Melanie poured herself a club soda. What would she do about Josh? Would she go to him tonight? Would she tell him? Was Melanie prepared to go back with Peter? She felt like the answer should be no, but he was her
husband
. Was she willing to raise this child alone, as a single parent, without a father?

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Melanie said to Brenda and Vicki. “And I’m going to ask you to respect that. I’m playing this by ear. I’m going to hear what the man has to say for himself. I’ll think about it. I’ll make him go home tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Vicki said.

“And there’s something else I want to ask you.”

“What?” Brenda said.

“Please don’t tell Josh that Peter came here.”

“Why not?” Brenda said.

“Why not?” Vicki said.

They were both looking at her.

Melanie took a sip of club soda and fervently wished for some vodka.

“All the things I’ve said to Josh about Peter, he’d feel like you two do, but he’s young, you know, and he’s a guy. He won’t get it.”

“You have feelings for him,” Vicki said. Her eyes were so dead-on certain she could have drilled holes through a two-by-four. “You have feelings for Josh.”

Brenda’s expression bloomed with what looked like childish delight. “You mean
feelings
feelings?”

Melanie could feel her face turning the color of the tomatoes in the Caprese salad. She forced a laugh. “For God’s sake, Vick. Would you please give me a break?”

“Am I wrong?” Vicki said. Her tone was more curious than judgmental, but that would change if she knew how far things between Melanie and Josh had progressed.

“Just please don’t mention it to Josh, okay?” Melanie said. “Please keep Peter’s visit between us.”

“
Feelings
feelings,” Brenda said. “I can’t believe it.”

“Brenda,” Vicki said.

“What? You’re the one who said it.”

The front screen door slammed. The women all turned. Peter said, “Oops, sorry. Am I interrupting something?”

There was conversation at dinner—Melanie may even have participated in it—but afterward, she didn’t recall a thing that was said. Her mind was wholly occupied with the enormous mess she’d made of things. It was a ball of yarn, tangled in her lap. Slowly, she thought, she would have to unravel it.

After dinner, Peter did the dishes. Vicki excused herself to give the kids a bath, read them stories, and put them to bed. Brenda lingered in the kitchen for a while, finishing up the bottle of wine, watching Melanie a little too closely. Finally, she gave up, much to Melanie’s relief. Melanie and Peter were polite to each other—washing the dishes, drying them and putting them away, wiping down the Formica, wrapping up the leftovers—they were too boring for Brenda.

“I’m going to read,” she said. “Good night.”

It was nearly nine o’clock. Dark outside, now that it was August.

“Want to go for a walk?” Peter said. “I’ve been here all day and I haven’t seen the beach.”

“Have you called for a hotel room?” Melanie said.

He walked toward her, wrapped his arms around her waist. “No.”

“You’re not staying here, Peter.” Melanie tried to lean back, away from him, but he hugged her tight. She held her body rigid, resisting. In an hour, she would have to sneak out to see Josh.

“You have two beds. I’ll just sleep in the other bed. All very innocent.”

“No,” Melanie said. “The answer is no.”

“I love you, Mel.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He bent down and kissed her hair. “I’m sorry about Frances.”

“I can’t even stand to hear her name, you know that?” Melanie said. “Thinking about her makes me want to vomit. It makes me break out in a rash.”

Peter held Melanie apart so he could look at her. “What I did was wrong. I was confused and angry and frustrated with you, Melanie, and with the whole
process
you were putting us through. The only thing that seemed to matter to you, at all, was having a baby. There were times, lots of times, in bed and otherwise, when I was pretty sure you didn’t even
see
me, I mattered to you so little. We lost each other, Mel, and I’m not blaming you for what happened because it was my fault. I did the wrong thing. I take full responsibility and I am now asking you to forgive me.”

“Now, because I’m pregnant.”

“That’s
not
it.”

“Well, why now, then? Why not my first week here? Why not when I called you sixteen times?”

“I was angry that you’d left.”

Melanie laughed. “That is so rich.”

“I was confused. Did you know you were pregnant when you left?”

“I did.”

“See? I could be furious with you, too. But I’m not. I forgive you and I want you to forgive me.”

“What if I can’t forgive you?” she said.

“Ah, but I know you, Mel. And I know that you can.”

“Except every time you call to say you’re working late, or have to stay in the city . . .”

“Frances is leaving New York,” Peter said. “When I ended things, she put in for a transfer. She’s going to California to be closer to her sister.”

“There will be someone else,” Melanie said. “Even if Frances goes, there will be someone else.”

“Yes,” Peter said. “There will be you. There will be our child.”

Melanie sighed. She heard the crunch of tires on shells out on the street and she cocked her head. Josh? She looked out the window. The car moved along down the street.

“You have to go,” Melanie said. “To the hotel. I’m not willing to let you stay here.”

Peter whipped out his cell phone. “Fine,” he said. He sounded angry and officious. “I’ll just call the cab and have him take me someplace.”

“Good idea,” Melanie said. “I’m going to bed. I’ll pack your things and set them outside the door.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Peter asked.

“Maybe just for a minute,” Melanie said. “Call me in the morning and tell me where you’re staying. I’ll come to you. But you should go home tomorrow, Peter. Ted comes on Friday and this house is too small for . . .”

“Come home with me tomorrow,” Peter said.

“No,” Melanie said. “I’ll be home in a few weeks.”

“You’re staying because of your . . .”

“I’m staying because I’m happy here.”

“Happy with him?”

“Happy here.”

“But you will come home?”

“Eventually, Peter . . .”

“I love you. What can I say to make you believe me?”

“Will you get out of here, Peter?” Melanie said. “Please?”

Peter stood on the flagstone walk until his cab pulled up, but by then it was nine-thirty. Melanie watched him from her bedroom window. Josh: She had to tell Josh. Melanie lay back on her bed. She was exhausted. Josh would not take the news well, even though they had both acknowledged that theirs was a summer romance. He was going back to Middlebury right after Labor Day; the story of Josh and Melanie ended there. To take it any further was comical. Melanie pictured herself and her newborn baby bunking with Josh in his dorm room. Absurd. Ridiculous. They had two and a half weeks left. Then it was over. Melanie closed her eyes. It would have been better if Peter had waited, she thought. Why he felt compelled to come now . . .

But, she thought, the heart wants what it wants.

When Melanie woke up, soft light was peeking in around the edges of the shades and the damn wren was chirping. She sat up in bed and checked the clock. Six-thirty. Her feet tingled, and it felt like she was suffering from an irregular heartbeat. She had missed Josh, again. And on the worst possible night. Melanie fell back against her pillows; she was still in her clothes, and hence, her body had that stiff, grungy, slept-in-her-clothes feeling. She would have to corner Josh this morning somehow. But she would have to be so, so careful because of Vicki and Brenda. Vicki knew, or thought she knew, but how? Did cancer give a person a sixth sense, or was Melanie simply transparent to her best friend? It didn’t really matter. Melanie would deny it—and certainly Josh would deny it. But they would have to redouble their efforts to keep it a secret.