Mystic Summer (23 page)

The road below is still. The nearest neighbors are a few acres beyond a shroud of hemlocks. For now, it's just the saltwater views, the piney smell of construction, and us.

“You gave the house its life back.” I take my eyes off the view to look at him. “How old is it again?”

“Two hundred and five years old.” Cam smiles. “It stayed in the family for the first hundred and fifty. That's a lot of Bate history.”

“I bet a lot of babies were born in this place.”

“And probably a few lives passed.”

“Good lives.”

He turns to look at me, his profile sharp against the
darkening sky. “I hope so. I like to think that old houses have souls. Does that sound spooky to you?”

I can't tell if it's the spirit of the aged building, or the imagined family lives that were made in it, but the pull of history warms me. “Not at all. I think it feels reassuring to think of all the lives made here. All the things these walls saw and heard. Sort of puts things in perspective.”

Cam opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and looks away.

“What?”

He shakes his head, but his lips press into a smile. “Let's lock up and get out of here.”

We end up at the Harp and Hound, an Irish pub on Pearl Street with cozy wooden booths. We grab stools at the bar and Cam orders us Moscow Mules. “Cheers to the completion of the Edwin Bate,” he says, clinking his copper mug against mine.

“And to the start of many more restorations,” I add. We take deep sips and sit in silence.

“Did you know the Daughters of the American Revolution used to meet here?” I ask him.

“At this pub?” He laughs. “Can't imagine how those meetings ended.”

“No, in this building,” I say, punching him playfully.

“You still do that,” Cam muses.

I turn to look at him. “Do what?”

“You fill in silences. With trivia and all kinds of odd facts.”

“I can stand silence,” I tell him. “I've changed a lot since you last knew me.”

“Is that so?” I can tell by his grin that he doesn't believe a word of it.

“I can!” I insist.

He looks at me over the rim of his mug. “Okay, then. Show me your stuff, Griff.”

I glance around. There's a couple at a corner table, and an older gentleman at the end of the bar. “You're on.”

We both face forward, sipping our Mules. There is no way I am letting him prove me wrong. He's not the only one who's grown up since college.

When the bartender comes to ask us if we'd like a menu, we both shake our heads no thank you and smile at her.

I glance over at him and raise my eyebrows. He returns the look.

A couple minutes go by, and my drink is empty. Cam notices this and shows me his own, which is still half full. I'm about to say
No thanks
, but I catch myself.

After five more minutes, we're both smiling too widely, struggling to contain our laughs. I give him an imploring look, and he shrugs, as if to say,
See? I told you so
.

But when the bartender comes by again, I wave her over. Pointing to my mug, I smile and nod.

“You want another, honey?”

I nod again.

“You okay?” she asks, glancing back and forth at both of us.

We nod in unison. While I watch as she makes me another Mule I start to feel a rush. It's a mix of the alcohol, which I drank too quickly, and the sense of triumph that I'm winning this bet. But I'm too confident, because when she returns with my drink, I blurt out, “Thanks, that looks delicious!”

Cam slaps the bar. “I win!”

“Hey.” I spin around. “That didn't count. I was talking to her.”

The woman shakes her head and leaves us, and by now we're both leaning against the bar laughing. “Ah, Griffin. You always were my chatty little thing.” Which makes me glance away. The endearment and the possessiveness in his words are not lost on either of us.

“So, how is Erika's wedding coming along?” he asks, finally. “Is the town going to be shut down for the big day?”

It's not unlike Cam to make fun of Erika, but I am surprised that he's asking about her wedding, of all things. “You really want to hear about Erika Crane's wedding? Because I know how much you two adored each other in college.” It was an unspoken but simmering resentment that I sensed Erika held for Cam all those years ago, something I always attributed to the fact that for the first time in our friendship my attention had shifted away from her. Sharing was not her thing. But somehow we'd all come through unscathed.

He shrugs. “I do, actually. It's nice to think that some of us have found their other half.”

I make note of the weight of his comment, as I fill him in. He listens with genuine interest while I tell him about Trent, the upcoming wedding week, and the missing veil. I feel slightly guilty that Erika is fair game for our small talk, especially when Cam adds, “I'm surprised she hasn't sent you back to Boston to get her veil.”

“She's changed,” I say, in her defense. But for old time's sake, I pretend to look at my watch. “You can ride shotgun when she calls to ask.”

Cam snorts. We order a platter of calamari to share and I'm
glad that our night together will last longer. It's so easy talking to him.

My phone dings twice more as we're eating. “Go ahead, take it,” Cam says.

“I'm sure it's nobody,” I say, feeling a stab of guilt the second the words come out. I haven't talked to Evan since I hung up on him earlier. “So, how's the little one?”

“She's good.” He pauses. “We've got an appointment in Providence on Thursday morning.”

“Everything okay?”

Cam pauses. “I was going to tell you. They did some blood work at her last checkup and there were a few question marks. It seems that her oxygen levels were a little off, too. So they've decided to move up the catheterization.”

This is much more serious than a simple follow-up. “Cam. Here I am going on about the wedding. I'm so sorry . . .”

He shakes his head. “Please, don't be. It's nice to laugh for a change. Besides, if I worried every time some lab work came back with a question mark, I'd be worried all the time.” He smiles roughly. “Parenting 101.”

“So you're taking her back to Yale?”

“Yeah.” Cam shifts uneasily on his stool. “I had to tell Lauren,” he says.

Lauren has been mostly absent from my picture of Cam and Emory, and therefore mostly absent from my thoughts. But of course, he had to tell her. She is Emory's mother. Will always be Emory's mother.

“What did she say?”

Cam sighs. “She didn't. She's out in the field doing research, so I left a message at their office in Juneau. I asked her to fly out
here for it.” He looks at his hands. “It's a routine procedure, and we've known for a while that Emory would have it done this summer. But still.”

I know what Cam means. No matter how routine anything is, when it involves a loved one, it's frightening. As much as I tense at the thought of Lauren coming back into Cam's and Emory's life, every little child deserves a mother. Whatever Cam's reasons, I respect them.

“I don't think she'll come,” he says, finally. “And I suppose it will be a lot easier if she doesn't. But I can't say I won't be disappointed.”

I imagine Cam making the call. Not being able to reach the mother of his sick child, and relaying the facts in a message, as if she were a stranger. And I realize that to a baby Emory's age, that's exactly what Lauren is.

“I want to go with you.”

Cam looks genuinely taken aback. “Griff, that's really sweet of you, but you don't have to. We've been down this road before. We'll be fine.”

“I know you will. But I still want to come, if it's not an imposition, that is.” Despite the fact that I feel a sudden urge to help, to do something, it occurs to me that Cam may prefer to do this on his own. And that my coming may be more of a distraction than a comfort. “If you'd rather, I can visit afterward. Bring you lunch? Keep you company for an hour?” I don't add that if Lauren does end up coming, I will stay out of the way. That I will leave this to the family, because in the end, no matter how absent she may be, Lauren is still family.

Cam takes a long sip of his drink and looks at me squarely. “All right. Company would be nice.”

We order another drink. “I drove by Camp Edgewater yesterday,” I tell him. “The kids were out in the sea kayaks. Brought back a lot of memories.”

Cam laughs, and reminds me of the summer night we “borrowed” two kayaks and went out onto the river together. And how afterward, we forgot to lock them back into the stand. When the director found the boathouse open the next morning he'd confided furiously to Cam that he suspected another counselor, an arrogant kid who was notorious for coming in to work late and screwing around. I was secretly elated when the director pegged him as the culprit.

“But then you messed it all up!” I remind him.

“I couldn't let that kid take the blame,” Cam says, even now.

“Why not? The guy was such a jerk. Remember he backed into your Jeep in the parking lot and denied it.”

Cam grimaces. “I'd forgotten about that.”

“At least you got off easy, Mr. Honesty.”

“Easy? I had to wash every boat on that campground. It took me three of my afternoons off.”

“But you never ratted me out,” I say fondly. “Or used it against me.”

“Maybe I should have,” he says, leaning in. “Is it too late?”

It's a
moment
. Whether it's the pull of the memory or the drinks, I find myself leaning in toward Cam. But then Cam straightens, excusing himself. “I'll be right back.”

Flushed, I hail the bartender for a glass of water. My phone vibrates again in my pocket. There are a page's worth of texts, the latest from Evan: “Where are you?” An earlier one from Erika confuses me: “Evan is the best! You lucky girl.” I wonder what she is talking about. And then she calls.

“Maggie, where have you been all this time? Why haven't you been answering?”

Just then Cam returns.

“Sorry, I have to call you back.” It's a classic Erika move; she should understand. I turn the phone off altogether and slide it into my purse.

Cam plops himself on the stool beside me. I try to read his expression. Did he call home to check in about Emory? Should I have called Evan to check in with him? Suddenly it feels as if there are more than just the two of us sitting here at the bar.

“You want anything else?” he asks, finally. What I want is to rewind to five minutes ago. But the moment, or whatever it was, has broken.

“Maybe we should call it a night,” I say. No sooner are the words out than I'm hoping that he'll disagree. That he'll try to talk me into one last drink. It won't be hard.

But he doesn't. “Good call,” Cam says. He hails the server for our tab. “I have to get up early tomorrow.”

A breeze has picked up outside. I wrap my arms around my middle, wishing I'd brought a light jacket. “Cold?” he asks, and before I can answer Cam drapes a loose arm around my shoulders.

We walk, sides pressed lightly together, up the sidewalk toward our cars. Halfway across Bascule Bridge, Cam pauses. I turn to him at the exact moment he turns to me, and whether it's because his arm is still draped over my shoulder, or the timing, our noses bump. And our lips brush. I don't know who steps back first, but before we do, it happens—so quickly it could almost escape time and notice—except for the fact that I
know
it happened. We kissed.

We stand for a beat of silence, staring at each other. “I'm sorry,” Cam says quickly. Something flickers behind the blue-green in his eyes.

“Don't be. Really, it's—”

“It's what?” Cam is hanging on my every word. But before I can answer, a car pulls up alongside us on the bridge and stops. The window rolls down and the driver leans over.

“Maggie? Is that you?”

I freeze at the sound of Evan's voice.

W
hat a wonderful surprise! You made it after all,” my mother says in her high-pitched “company” voice. She gestures for Evan to sit on the couch, as my father settles into his armchair across from us.

Evan rises to help my mother with the tray of iced tea she's carried out from the kitchen. “I'm sorry to impose on you both, Mr. and Mrs. Griffin, but I was able to get away from the set last minute, and I was hoping to surprise Maggie. I felt bad that we missed our Ocean House plans.”

“Can you still go?” my mother asks, looking hopefully between the two of us.

I'm still in shock, and going to the Ocean House is the last thing on my mind.

“Unfortunately, I canceled the reservation,” Evan explains. “I didn't think I'd make it in time, and if we didn't, then they would've charged me.”