Heat Wave (22 page)

“I don’t know what to do,” Melody confessed as Carley drove over the rutted dirt paths crisscrossing through the moors. “Jack and I are going to get married. I love him, and he loves me, I
know
he does. But he has such a temper.”

“How long have you been together?” She watched her headlights pierce a bright track through the dark.

“Almost a year.” Melody dug in her purse, pulled out some tissue and noisily blew her nose. “He wants to get married this fall.”

“Maybe you should wait awhile before getting married. Give him time to—”

“Oh, no, he’d be really angry then. He’s got an important job with a bank and they’re transferring him to their British branch before Christmas.”

The SUV bounced and waddled as it went through puddles and over bumps. Carley considered her words carefully. “What do your parents think of Jack?”

Melody was silent. “They did like him, at first. I mean, you’ve met him. He’s so handsome, and charming, and smart, and he makes a ton of money. He just sometimes … he’s just under so much pressure.”

They arrived at the main road. Carley turned onto the pavement and their ride smoothed out. “You see,” she pointed out, “now we’re on the Polpis Road. You weren’t far from town. Did you plan to go to college, Melody?”

“Yes, but I just wanted to be an elementary-school teacher.”

“
Just
? Teaching’s the most important job in the world. I’ll bet you’d be good at it, too.”

Melody was silent for a few moments. They came to the turnoff onto the ‘Sconset road toward the rotary and town. Headlights from other cars flashed past.

“I
would
be good at it,” Melody said at last, her voice a little stronger.

Carley thought of what Melody’s parents must have said to her:
You’re only eighteen, so young, how can you know what you want?
She didn’t want to repeat that warning. “Moving to another town is always stressful,” Carley continued, keeping her voice easy, chatty. “Moving to another country must be very difficult. In fact, someone made a chart of the top ten most stressful events in life, and moving is way up there with divorce and having a spouse die.”

Melody looked at Carley. “I didn’t know that.”

“It’s certainly something to think about. You might want to let Jack move first and see how he handles that pressure.”

“Oh, but he
needs
me,” Melody protested.

“You might want to think about what
you
need. That’s what I’d tell my daughters.”

Melody was silent, her face creased with worry.

They pulled into the driveway. They were home.

Carley whispered, “Shut your door quietly, if you can. I don’t want to wake anyone.” They walked up to the house, which rose so safe and welcoming before them, the outside light glowing like a beacon.

At the door, Melody said, “Thank you so much for rescuing me. I don’t know how to thank you, but I’m so grateful.”

Carley hugged the girl. “I’m glad to do it. Take care of yourself.” Melody nodded soberly. “I will.”

The next morning, Melody and Jack appeared in the kitchen for their coffee and breakfast. They shoveled in the cheese croissants and fresh-cut fruit without tasting it. Without looking at each other. Immediately after that, they checked out. Jack’s face was wooden. Melody’s face was white, but her head was high, and before she went out the door, she turned to Carley, stuck out her hand, and gave her a very grown-up handshake.

School started the last week of August. Carley’s parents had taken the girls shopping for clothes and school supplies and sent them home with so much new stuff they’d had to buy two new duffel bags. After Labor Day weekend, most of the tourists had left, especially all the ones with children. This was the season, Carley’s innkeeper friends had told her, for the “Newly Wed or Nearly Dead” tourists to flock to the island, when the prices dropped just a bit and the beaches were not as crowded. Carley became a chauffeur once more, rushing the girls to riding lessons, softball and soccer practice,
school picnics, social events. To her great relief, Margaret had no desire to take ballet or riding lessons. Cisco didn’t ask to stay at her grandparents’ house, although they all still got together for dinner once a week.

With summer over and a routine established, Carley took the girls to the MSPCA and let them each choose a kitten. Cisco picked out an orange striped boy cat she named, not surprisingly, Tiger, while Margaret chose a dainty calico she named Mimi. The kittens filled an enormous amount of time and emotional space. They were allowed to sleep with the girls. Their litter boxes were just outside the bedroom doors in the hall. They were fed in the girls’ bathroom because the house was big and the kittens small. Plus, Carley didn’t want to worry about a guest being allergic or phobic. She took the girls to Geronimo’s and let them buy soft, round little cat beds, toys, and treats. The girls invited all their friends over to admire the new pets.

When she knew the girls were at school, Wyatt walked up to her house for a quick morning or early afternoon liaison. The rush and secrecy made the moments together even more exciting. She talked with Wyatt on the phone several times during the day, and always last thing at night before she fell asleep. Often Wyatt came, separately, like many of the islanders, to watch the girls’ soccer and baseball games, and sometimes he sat next to Carley, but usually he joined other friends. Carley felt a subversive thrill to have him just a few seats away on the bleachers, not looking at her, but connected to her.

With the press and fluster of summer business over, everyone on the island calmed down. Here was the good season, the mellow season. The skies were sunny but the humidity had dropped, the water was still warm enough for swimming, and bank accounts, for this year at least, had been replenished by the tourists. Families had low-key parties to catch up on all the news and plan for the off-season.

Lauren and Frame held a cookout one Sunday afternoon for their three children’s friends and their friends’ parents. Wyatt wasn’t there, probably, Carley assumed, because this was a family group.
Margaret and Cisco joined the other kids in a wild game of tag. Carley wandered through the crowd, chatting with friends, aware that she was the single female without a husband.

She took her glass of wine to the steps leading down from the wide deck and settled down, leaning her back against a post, just gazing out over the wide green stretch of lawn. It was almost a year since Gus died, and there were her daughters, running around with the other kids, shrieking with laughter, tanned, healthy, absolutely
fine
. She had been so frightened when she lost Gus. Their marriage, their family, had been her world. She’d been worried about raising her daughters alone, terrified about finances, unsure of how to get through each day. Somehow she had started a successful business running a B&B she enjoyed, kept them afloat financially, and kept their little family on track.

Lauren approached her. “What are you doing sitting on the steps? That post must be digging into your back. We do possess such things as deck chairs, you know. Don’t you want to come sit in a chair?”

“In a while,” Carley told her friend. “Right now I’m content right where I am.”

• • • • •

O
ne foggy September morning while the girls were at school, Carley was in Scallop, with the door and windows wide open. The last guest had worn a powerful perfume vaguely reminiscent of cat pee, and it had permeated the room. Carley was dropping sheets and towels into her wicker basket to take up to the laundry room when her cell rang. Her personal cell—she let the machine take calls for the B&B when she was busy.

“Carley? It’s Vanessa.”

“Vanessa!” Carley’s legs almost went out from under her. She sat on the stripped bed, clamping the phone to her ear. “Honey! How are you?”

“Actually,” Vanessa replied with a lilt in her voice, “I guess I could say I’m amazing.”

“Amazing? Vanessa, have you met someone?” Vanessa laughed. “You could say that.”

“Where are you?”

“At home.”

“At
home
? Do you mean on the island?”

“I do. I arrived yesterday. I’ve been unpacking and getting groceries, that sort of thing.”

“Does that mean you’re moving back?”

“Oh, yes. And not alone!”

“What?”

“Why don’t I come over and show you?”

“Show me? Do you have him with you?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Stop talking in riddles! You’re infuriating!” More laughter. “I’m coming over.”

Carley raced up the stairs to the laundry room and dropped the basket on the floor. She hurried up to her bedroom, stripped off her drab work tee shirt and pulled on a clean peach tee. She ran a comb through her hair, lined her eyes and lightly dabbed on mascara and lipstick, although she was smiling so much she could hardly get the lipstick on straight. Vanessa had met a man! Maybe she was going to marry him! She sounded so buoyant, so happy! Carley almost skipped back down the stairs.

She glanced around the first floor. It looked great. It always did. She was forever dusting, straightening, bringing in fresh flowers, brightening the rooms for her guests. Besides, Vanessa wouldn’t care what the house looked like, they had so much to talk about!

The knock came at the door. Carley pulled it open.

The first thing she noticed was that Vanessa was alone. No man stood next to her. Then she focused on Vanessa’s familiar, lovely, beloved face, her full lips, her wavy hair, and her huge brown eyes full of emotion.

She wore a loose cotton tunic over loose linen trousers. She looked, in general, thinner than she used to look, except that her breasts were larger.

And she had a definite bump in her belly.

Carley swayed with shock. “Vanessa, are you
pregnant
?”

“I am.” Vanessa threw her arms around Carley and hugged her close for a long time. “Oh, man, I missed you so much, I’m so glad to be back.”

“I missed you, too. So much! It’s been awful without you.” Carley ushered her friend into the living room. “Sit down. Want some coffee? Tea? Lemonade? A sweet roll?”

“Nothing, will you stop it! Sit down!”

They settled at opposite ends of the sofa, for a long moment silently gazing at each other.

“You are so tanned,” Vanessa remarked. “And you look fabulous. What’s going on?”

Carley waved her hands dismissively. “The B&B, I guess. I really like running it, Vanny, and it’s keeping us afloat financially. I mean, I’ll never be rich, but we’ll be okay. But tell me about you! About this!” She gestured toward Vanessa’s bump. “Where’s the father? Who is he?”

Vanessa hesitated. She folded her hands protectively over her belly. “Okay. You have to promise not to scream.”

“What?” Carley demanded, almost screaming. “What’s wrong with the father?”

“Carley.”

“All right. I’ll be good.” She made a zipper-closed motion across her lips.

“Just listen, okay?”

Carley nodded without speaking.

“After the—what I call the
explosion
—I went to Boston to stay with Diane Wells, an old college friend of mine. She has a fabulous apartment on Beacon Hill. She runs an art gallery. She went to work every day. I mostly lay on the sofa and watched stupid television. I did go for walks. I did see the city. I didn’t totally stay inside and lick my wounds, but I was devastated by Toby leaving me for Maud. I was kind of paralyzed. You understand, I think you went through something like that when Gus died.”

“You’re right. I did.”

“Well … Diana likes the night life. She’s never married, she’s very chic, and she loves getting dressed up and going out. We went to lots of plays and movies. We went to concerts in the band shell on the Charles; I’d always wanted to do that. We went to lots of fabulous cocktail parties. Actually, I couldn’t have stayed with a more perfect person, I met so many people, some really nice people, and important, too—”

Cut to the chase, tell me about the man
, Carley wanted to demand, but she confined her impatience to wiggling her foot.

“—and it was fun to get dressed in city clothes again, and Diana loves being single and I began to see a way of life I thought I might like.”

“Oh, no.” Carley couldn’t stop herself from saying, “don’t tell me you’re selling your house and moving to Boston.”

“Don’t interrupt. My point is, how can I phrase this, I wasn’t perhaps in what people would call my ‘right mind.’ I was sort of mentally all over the place. I was getting divorced, and I’d lost Maud and you. I wasn’t
grounded
. I
had
to go out with Diana, she wanted me to, she was only trying to cheer me up, so I went to parties, and then I, um …” Vanessa hesitated, frowning. She squeezed up her eyes and her shoulders, as if preparing to be hit.

“Vanessa, what? You met a man?”

“I met some men.” Vanessa peeked through her eyelashes like a child.

“You met some men.”

“Well, not all at once, of course.”

“What are you even saying?” Carley demanded.

“I mean, I had a fling.”

“A fling?”

“Well, two, actually. Listen. I met two different men. I don’t mean at the same time. I mean I had dates, and dinner, and I liked the guys, but not enough to get serious, not that I’m in any state of mind to get serious. But I wanted to feel attractive. I wanted to feel
wanted
. So … I slept with them. Once each. And to my surprise …”

“Wait. Slow down. Did you see either man more than once?”

“No. By the time I discovered I was pregnant, they were long out of my life. Not that they’d ever really been part of it.” She hugged herself. “I’ve always wanted to have a baby.”

“Honey, I’m happy for you. But Vanessa, come on, which man is the father?”

“Don’t know.”

“Oh, good grief.”

“Don’t be a prude. It wasn’t like there was a cast of thousands. It was two different men over a two-week period. The last thing in the world I expected was to get pregnant. I don’t
get
pregnant. I never did with Toby.”

“Yes, but Vanessa, it’s important to have information about the father’s genetic history—”