Return to the Beach House (18 page)

The sun had slipped behind a low-lying cloud, changing it from ivory to a deep orange and creating rays of yellow and pink that escaped into the sapphire blue sky. For the first time in almost three years Danielle felt a sense of peace. And hope.

They settled into the cushioned patio chairs, Danielle and Carrie insisting Angie and Bridget take the ones with footstools.

“I’m pregnant, not an invalid,” Angie said. “Look at me.” She patted her stomach. “You can’t tell whether this is a baby bump or one too many pizzas.”

“Well, I’m going to take advantage of any pampering you want to send my way,” Bridget said. “When my mother came out to take care of me, she had it in her head that if I didn’t do as much as I could for myself I’d give up.”

“How did you discover the lump?” Angie asked, her hand still resting on her belly.

“I didn’t. I went in for a mammogram after my sister discovered she had the BRCA2 genetic mutation. Interestingly enough, I didn’t have the mutation, just the cancer.”

Danielle cut a wedge of Brie and put it on a wheat cracker, adding a drop of fig jam. “Why did your sister decide to get tested?”

“She read an article about families with a high incidence of premenopausal breast and ovarian cancer that said it could be tied to two inherited gene mutations. There’s a lot of controversy about being tested if you don’t have a high incidence of early cancer in your family, but my mom’s cancer was enough for my sister, and once she found out she had the gene mutations, she opted for a double mastectomy. When you’re married to a doctor, and that doctor is as paranoid as you are, it opens doors.”

“What kind did your mom have?” Angie asked.

“Ovarian—in her late thirties. She was incredibly lucky that it was discovered as early as it was.”

Carrie reached for a piece of smoked Gouda that she broke in half, skipping the cracker. She chewed slowly, as if counting every up-and-down movement of her jaw. Despite going to the gym three times a week and running on the other four days, it took a lot more effort to remain a size 0 now than it had five years ago. And in the work world she inhabited, there was an unspoken but recognized credo that success and appearance went hand in hand. The glass ceiling was for those who believed hard work alone was the road to power. She shuddered to think what she’d have to do to maintain this size when she turned fifty. “And you’re okay now?” she asked Bridget.

“I should be.”

As if able to satisfy her growing hunger vicariously, Carrie put three different cheeses and a variety of crackers and fruit on a plate and handed it to Bridget. “What do you mean
should
be?”

“Like everything else, there are no guarantees.” Bridget tried to sound lighthearted, but with tears pooling in her eyes and the constriction in her throat from trying to hold them back, she couldn’t pull it off.

“Is it really just a fluke that you got this, or is it possible there’s something going on that’s tied to that genetic thing?” Danielle was still standing, though at six feet tall, she might have been more accurately described as looming.

“That’s the double Jeopardy question in the ‘Mysterious Medical Facts’ category,” Bridget said. “I’ve seen more shrugs over that than any other part of my treatment.”

Danielle moved her chair and sat down to face her friends rather than the van Gogh sky. “How do you function with that hanging over your head? Are you going to any support groups?”

Bridget looked around at her three best friends. “I have the best support group I could ever have right here with me now.”

Angie unfolded her napkin and wiped her eyes. “We’ve been together less than half a day and I’m already dehydrated from all the crying.”

“It’s the pregnancy,” Carrie said. “My cousin was on an emotional roller coaster the entire time. Up one day, down the next. Almost drove her husband nuts.”

Bridget pulled the scarf off her head and ran her hands over her scalp. “This itching is going to drive me nuts.”

“Let me,” Danielle said, getting up to stand behind Bridget. She made a show of preparing, cracking her knuckles and then stretching before she ran her hands over what looked like a teenage boy’s face a year before he required a razor. “Hmmm . . . this is kinda sexy. I think I’m getting turned on.”

Bridget laughed. She didn’t seem aware when the laughter turned to tears. “I’ve missed all of you so much.” She reached up to take one of Danielle’s hands. “Thank you for being my friends.”

“Friends who will stop speaking to you if you ever keep something like this a secret again,” Danielle said.

“I’m hoping there is no ‘like this’ again. But I do promise—no more secrets.”

Danielle was trying to hide her own guilt when she saw Carrie cringe. For just a second. There was no doubt something in the exchange had made her uncomfortable. “And no more cancer.”

Bridget wiped her tears. “I’ll do my best.” She looked down and saw broken bits of crackers scattered across her denim shirt and started picking them off one by one, gathering them in the palm of her other hand and then tossing the whole into the bushes. “I’m tired of talking about me. I want to hear all about this baby you’re having, Angie. So tell.”

“She, or he, is predicted to make an appearance outside the womb sometime between six and seven months from now. I have a feeling my doctor refuses to pin it down any closer than that because he thinks I’ll be all over him if the baby shows up early or late.” She grinned. “He’s a good friend and knows me too well for me to get away with bullying him. He also knows I have a lot to do to get the business ready, including finding another pilot to cover for me for the two months I won’t be flying.”

“Two?” Carrie and Danielle said in unison.

“I’ll fly until my belly gets in the way, and then when the baby is born, Darren and I will switch off child care with his mother and sister, who will fly in from Kodiak Island. That’s where they live. I have a feeling his dad and brothers will be involved in the hands-on care too. They’re that kind of family, and this is going to be the first grandchild.”

“Darren?” a chorus of voices repeated.

She blushed. “Okay, so you got it out of me.”

“And it was damn hard to do too,” Carrie said, laughing. “Like sticking a pin in a balloon.”

“We want to know everything,” Bridget insisted. “This is a very big deal, and you’re not allowed to leave out any details. No matter how small.”

Angie tucked her hair behind her ears. The instant her index finger brushed against one of the diamonds, she fluffed her hair out again. “His full name is Darren Francis Langley Jr. He’s a pilot—and the baby’s father. We’ve known each other for a couple of years but didn’t start dating until a couple of months ago. He’s as excited about the baby as I am and keeps trying to talk me into getting married before she or he is born, but I’m—” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just not as sure it’s the best thing to do right now.”

“What’s he like?” Bridget said. “Remember, I have to get my romance secondhand these days, so don’t skimp on details.”

“He’s tall, has really thick, wavy black hair—and the most incredible blue eyes. He was born and raised on an isolated inlet on Kodiak Island and has four younger brothers and one sister. They’re beside themselves that their big brother is going to be a daddy, especially his little sister. She and her mother have already started a baby quilt.”

“Awww. . . .” Bridget sighed. “I like them already.”

“What about Darren’s dad?” Danielle asked. “Is he as enthusiastic?”

Angie laughed. “I’d been around him all of two hours when he told me that if Darren didn’t get a ring on my finger before the baby was born, he and Darren’s mom were going to make arrangements to adopt me.”

“Wow,” Carrie said. “Those Alaska people don’t hold back.”

“No, they don’t. It’s one of the things I love about being there.”

“Back to the romance,” Bridget insisted, tying her scarf around her head to ward off the cool breeze coming in with the tide.

“We didn’t hit it off at first. Darren insists I was standoffish and totally oblivious to his charms. My version is that he came across as cocky and full of himself.”

“Known in some circles as being too self-confident,” Danielle chimed in. “Been there, done that. So what happened that changed your mind?”

“He saved a little boy and his father when they were tossed out of their raft on the Mulchatna River. It was early in the first week of the salmon run, when the bears are testy. The rafters made it to a sandbar, where a couple of territorial brown bears kept them from going anywhere else. Rescuing them was a much bigger deal than it comes across in the retelling because there are so many nuances to the story. But basically, Darren had to land his plane on a sandbar that was too short and narrow to get off again with the added weight. He should have waited for help, but he was afraid the father was going to do something that would antagonize the bears, so he went in.”

“Scary,” Bridget said. “I’d worry about him every time he went out after doing something like that.”

“The important part of this story is that Darren never said a thing to me or anyone else. I had to find out what happened from another pilot.”

“About the baby,” Danielle said. “None of my business, and feel free to tell me so, but failed birth control or intentional?”

Bridget sat forward. “Okay, I admit I’m curious too. But isn’t that a little personal?”

Carrie and Danielle looked at her. Simultaneously they said, “Nah.”

Danielle added, “If she doesn’t want to tell us, she won’t.”

Angie laughed. “I’ll tell you, but don’t you dare tell Darren that I did.”

“It’s a deal,” Danielle said.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Carrie added.

“Not even if he promised to introduce me to his brothers,” Bridget chimed in.

“Darren was due back from a flight to Lake Clark, and he was over an hour late. I kept trying to raise him on the radio—but all I got was static. It was fifteen minutes to midnight, and because float planes fly by sight, not by instruments, he had to be back before sunset, which was less than ten minutes away.

“I went outside and started pacing, listening for the peculiar sound that particular plane makes. Finally, when I heard it, I was sick with relief. And I was furious at how Darren had scared the hell out of me. I thought about locking up and leaving as soon as he landed and waiting until morning to find out what had caused the delay.”

She finished her tea and sat back, propping her legs on the ottoman. “Instead, I waited. Turned out to be a fateful decision. I planted myself on the pier so that I’d be the first thing he saw when he pulled in. I stood there with my hands on my hips, doing my best imitation of a pissed-off polar bear, getting madder and madder the longer he ignored me. I saw him watching me out of the corner of his eye the entire time it took him to unload his gear. When he finished and came up the pier, he dropped everything at my feet, didn’t say a thing, put his arms around me, and kissed me like I’ve never been kissed before.”

“Oooh, I like this guy,” Bridget said.

“What did you do?” Carrie asked.

Angie popped a piece of cheese in her mouth. “I kissed him back, of course.”

“Good girl,” Danielle added. “And then?”

Bridget laughed. “There’s this obnoxious voice inside of me insisting this borders on voyeuristic. Give me a minute to choke the life out of it.”

“This next part is so saccharine it will make you gag, but here goes. He swept me up in his arms and carried me into the office.” Her mouth turned up in a Cheshire grin. “Let me tell you, by this point I was soooo glad I hadn’t locked up. We tore each other’s clothes off, he tossed a couple of sleeping bags on the floor, and—we made a baby.”

Bridget sighed. “Not once, in all the time I was married, did I experience anything even close to this romantic.”

Always the detail person in the group, Carrie asked, “Why was he late?”

“He had engine trouble and had to make a landing on one of the isolated lakes near Redoubt. The radio had stopped working, so he knew that even with the GPS he was in big trouble if he couldn’t fix whatever it was and get airborne again. He said he spent a lot of time thinking about what he’d left undone and I was at the top of his list.”

“What will you do if he decides he wants to leave Alaska?” Bridget asked. “I’m assuming that would be a deal-breaker for you.”

“That’s not going to happen. Darren’s parents took care of that possibility by sending all five of their kids to the Lower Forty-Eight to go to college—whether they wanted to or not. Darren chose the University of Washington because he thought Seattle weather was the closest he could get to home. He hated it, but he stuck it out, then moved back the day he graduated.”

“When was that?” Bridget asked. “My cousin went there.”

Angie focused on the welting outlining her seat cushion as if it were an exhibit in the Museum of Modern Art. “I’m not sure.”

“Approximately,” Carrie nudged.

Danielle watched Angie squirm and wondered why. And then it hit her. “Did you bring a picture?”

Angie let out a resigned sigh. “Okay, so he’s a little younger than I am.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bridget said. “If you’re happy and he’s happy, that’s all that—”

“He’s ten years younger,” Angie said, interrupting her. “He thinks I’m crazy that it bothers me.”

After several seconds of stunned silence, Danielle was the first to say something. “And you’re sure his family still likes you?”

“That’s what they claim.” Angie put her feet on the wooden deck, her elbows on her knees and her hands over her face. “I don’t know what to do. Darren insists he loves me, and I know he’s thrilled about the baby, but that’s how he feels now. What about twenty years from now when I’m sixty?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Carrie said. “Today’s sixty is yesterday’s forty. No telling what it will be when you’re actually there. Maybe even thirty-five. Whatever—you’ll still be as beautiful and interesting and fun then as you are now.”

“And if you aren’t, there’s always stress management and plastic surgery,” Danielle added.

Again, there was stunned silence. Only this time it was followed by hoots of laughter.