Summer Beach Reads 5-Book Bundle: Beachcombers, Heat Wave, Moon Shell Beach, Summer House, Summer Breeze (114 page)

FIFTY-ONE

Sunday afternoon, Clare and Adam lay in his bed, curled up with each other, lazy and sated after a long session of making love and a delicious nap.

“Hungry?” Adam asked.

“Mmmm,” Clare responded, snuggling closer to him. “I’ll be hungry in a minute.”

Bella and Lucky, who had been ordered off the bed earlier, stood at attention, quivering with anticipation.

“I wasn’t talking to you two fools,” Adam told them. “I know
you’re
always ready to eat.”

They both jumped when the phone rang. Adam lifted himself up on one elbow to check out the Caller ID. It was his day off from the MSPCA. Miranda was taking the emergencies.

Adam frowned. “Logan Airport?”

Clare stretched and yawned. “Pick it up.” She was so relaxed, she didn’t know if she could summon the energy to shower. Perhaps if she made a new pot of coffee …

“Holy shit, man!” Adam exploded. “Clare—it’s
Tris
!”

“Tris?” Clare sat up straight. “How can it be Tris? Tris is—”

Adam had thrown himself out of bed and was pacing the floor, nodding his head as he listened. His energy was contagious—both dogs trailed him, watching him nervously. Clare found herself out of bed and pulling on clothes without realizing what she was doing, she was so focused on Adam’s conversation.

“Thank God you’re alive, Tris, thank God, thank God,” Adam said fervently.

Where?
Clare mouthed.
How? What happened?

Adam waved at Clare, holding off her questions while he listened. “Yeah, I’ve heard about Sable Island, it’s a notorious shipwreck site, man, what an ordeal, are you okay?” He listened for a while, then said in a quieter voice, “Yeah, well, I guess we kind of thought you’d gone under, Tris. It’s been three months …”

“Jewel never thought he died,” Clare reminded Adam. “Jewel’s been waiting for him.”

Adam nodded at Clare. “Jewel waited for you almost every day at the town pier, Tris. That’s true, man, she really did. At the very end of the pier. She never gave up hope. I know, Tris, it’s awesome.” Adam’s eyes filled with tears and his voice thickened. “I’m so glad you’re alive, Tris. Man, I’m so glad.” He strode into the bathroom, grabbed a handful of toilet paper and blew his nose. Returning to the bedroom, he said, “I don’t know, I’ll ask Clare.”

Clare was nearly dancing with excitement. “Ask me what?”

“Hang on, Tris, let me tell Clare—” Clamping the phone to his chest, he said, “Tris is at the airport in Boston! The captain of the fishing vessel that found him loaned him money for airfare. His flight to Nantucket is about to be called. He’ll be here in forty-five minutes! He’s been trying to reach Bonnie and Jewel, but all he can get is their answering machine. Do you know where Jewel is?”

Clare shook her head. “I can call Lexi and find out whether she knows …”

“Look, man,” Adam said into the phone. “We’ll find Jewel. We’ll meet you at the airport. Nantucket Airlines. Got it. Jesus Christ, Tris, this is a fucking miracle, you know? Yeah, Tris, I love you, too, buddy.”

Adam tossed the phone on the bed, picked Clare up in his arms, and swung her around. “Tris is alive!”

The dogs caught the mood, dancing and barking and pawing at Adam and Clare, wanting to join the fun.

“You’re making me dizzy,” Clare told Adam. “Slow down. And put some clothes on before your animals scratch the family jewels.”

“Right.” Adam let go of Clare and stared around the room, dazed and ebullient. “Right.”

“Your pants are on the chair,” Clare informed him. “Now tell me, where has Tris
been
?”

“It’s amazing, Clare.” Adam pulled on his T-shirt and shorts as he talked. “His boat was wrecked near Sable Island, up in Nova Scotia. He ended up on a smaller island near Sable Island, completely uninhabited, but people have stayed there before, maybe to fish, because there were a couple of old shacks and some canned goods. He figures he spent the first month just mostly sleeping, he thinks he had a concussion. He was completely naked, he had no matches, no cell phone—he found some old jackets in the shacks—and then finally just early this morning some Newfoundland fishermen anchored near the island. He got their attention. The captain of the boat gave him some clothes, got him to Grand Manon Island, loaned him some money for airfare. He flew from there to Boston. He’s been trying to reach Jewel, but Bonnie doesn’t answer her phone.” He looked wildly around the room. “Where are my car keys?”

“On the bedside table.” Clare pointed to where the keys lay in clear sight. “Perhaps I should drive?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Adam grabbed up the keys. “Let’s go.” The dogs milled around his legs, whimpering, anxious now that he was leaving.

“Wait a minute,” Clare told him. “Let’s give the dogs their breakfast.”

They emptied dry food into the bowls, then raced out of the house.

“Wait!” Clare stopped with her hand on the passenger door. “Let me get my cell phone. I’ll try calling Bonnie and Jewel while we drive.”

“Good idea.”

When she returned, cell phone in hand, Adam had the engine running. Clare jumped in and they tore out of the driveway and down the street.

“Careful,” she warned. “The last thing we want right now is to get stopped by a cop.”

“Right. You’re right.” Adam eased up on the gas but his leg jiggled with excess adrenaline.

“Damn!” Clare stared at the cell phone. “I don’t know Bonnie Frost’s number, do you?”

“Phone Lexi.”

Clare punched in Lexi’s number and got her machine. She tried calling the boutique, but it was closed. She dialed Lexi’s home number again and left a message: “Lexi! You won’t believe it! Tris is alive! He’s flying home now, Adam and I are on our way to pick him up at the airport. He’s been trying to reach Jewel, but Bonnie’s not home. Do you know where they are? Listen, phone me on Adam’s cell.” She recited the number, then clicked off.

Adam was focused now, steering through the narrow side lanes and one-way streets with caution as vacationing pedestrians and bike riders wandered dreamily into the traffic.

“Who else can we call?” Clare wondered.

Adam said, “Directory assistance.”

But Clare was already punching in her father’s number. “Dad? Listen, can you look up a phone number for me? Bonnie Frost, on Main Street.” She shared the news with her father, got the number, and dialed. The machine answered. “Bonnie, it’s Clare. Tris said he’s been trying to reach you—I know he’s left messages for you—isn’t it miraculous? Listen, Adam and I are on the way to the airport to get Tris. Call us and tell us where you are—where Jewel is. He wants to see Jewel.” She left Adam’s cell number.

“Hey!” Adam slammed on the brakes and pulled to the side of Orange Street. “Maybe Jewel’s out on the town pier.”

Clare thought about this. “She promised to stop going …”

“But she’s a kid. You know how kids bend rules. Maybe she’s hanging out nearby …”

“It’s worth checking.”

“It won’t take more than five minutes. We won’t be late meeting Tris—”

“And it would be so great if we had Jewel with us when he gets off the plane!”

Adam steered the car to the nearest side street and then down to Dover and over to Francis and back toward town on Washington Street. There was just enough room for him to double park behind a truck in front of the Harbor Master’s office. Adam and Clare both jumped out and ran around the small building and out onto the pier.

“Jewel!” they called. “Jewel!”

The day was sunny, the water throwing back spangles of light that half blinded them as they thumped down the wooden pier. Boston whalers, sunfish, small motor yachts, and gray inflatable rafts bobbed gently at anchor, and at the end of the pier Bill Blount’s fishing vessel
The Ruthie B.
rose, imposing and stately. A couple of kids chased each other over the boards and several people in shorts and scalloper’s caps lugged coolers toward their boats, but there was no little girl sitting at the end of the pier. No Jewel.

Clare approached a woman who was urging her yellow Lab into a boat. “Excuse me. Have you seen a little girl, about this tall, lots of red hair, hanging out down here this morning?”

“No. Sorry.”

Adam took Clare’s arm. “We don’t have time. Let’s just go. We’ll find Jewel later.”

They ran back down the pier, jumped into the Jeep, and with a scream of burning tires, Adam executed a three-point turn and headed back out of town.

“Who else can I call?” Clare muttered.

“Call my mom and dad. They might know where Lexi is, and Lexi might know where Jewel is.”

“Great idea!” Clare dialed—and got a machine. “Damn. How can it be that with so much technology we still have trouble finding one another?”

“Never mind. We’re almost there. Clare, I just can’t believe this is happening, I can’t believe I just spoke to Tris!”

“I wish I could be there when Jewel sees that her father’s alive.”

“Sorry, buddy, not today,” Adam grumbled as he passed a truck waiting on a side street to get into the long line of Orange Street traffic. “I usually stop and let people in,” he told Clare, “but right now I don’t want to let anyone slow me down.”

“Who else could I call?” Clare wondered.

“Never mind, we’re almost there.”

They turned onto the airport road. A few minutes later, Adam stopped the Jeep in the short-term parking lot. They jumped out and hurtled toward the arrivals gate, a long room with two wooden benches and a soft-drink machine. Windows opened onto the landing field where nine-seater planes sputtered to a stop or lumbered out for take-off. The lounge was filled with people waiting for friends and relatives, everyone in full summer dress. The men wore Nantucket red Bermuda shorts, polo shirts, and leather loafers without socks, or white flannels and striped button-down shirts. The women sported sleek floral Lilly Pulitzer sheaths or tennis whites and one chic brunette, Clare noticed, wore an indigo halter top with a Moon Shell Beach sarong.

“I think this is his plane.” Adam took Clare’s hand and squeezed it hard.

They watched as the small plane taxied into place. The attendant opened the door that folded down to become a ramp. The first person off was a woman with a baby. After that came a man with a dog. Then a woman with a straw hat tied with a navy blue ribbon.

And then came Tris.

“Good God,” Adam whispered.

The Tris they had known had been slender but muscular. The man limping toward the terminal was gaunt. It wasn’t just that his borrowed clothing—jeans and a baggy sweatshirt—were too big for him. His face was sunken and deeply lined. His red hair was streaked with white. He was thirty-three, but he looked fifty.

But when he caught sight of Adam, he smiled, and his eyes brightened, and he looked young again.

“Tris. Hot damn.” Adam grabbed his friend up in a huge bear hug.

Clare moved back slightly, allowing the two men their privacy. She could see Adam’s shoulders shake. Tris clutched Adam’s arms, and she saw how his hands and arms were darkly tanned and scarred.

Other passengers looked curiously at the men as they passed, but quickly the room emptied out and for a moment there was no drone of airplane engine, no burst of chatter. In the silence, Clare heard Tris’s muffled sobs.

“I thought I was going to die out there, Adam,” he choked out. “I thought I was going to die.”

Adam pounded his friend on the back hard, as if trying to drive out such an idea. “It’s a miracle, man; it’s a miracle.” He held Tris away from him, studying him. “Tris, man, you look
rough.
” Both men laughed, wiping the tears from their faces.

“Tris, I’m so glad to see you. I’m so glad you’re alive.” Clare reached out her arms and embraced him.

But Tris looked confused. “Um, Clare?” He looked from her to Adam questioningly.

“We’re together,” Adam told him. “We’ll explain later. Let’s take care of you first. Look, maybe you should go to the hospital.”

Tris waved the suggestions away. “No, I’m fine. I need a bath and a good meal, but more than that, I need to see Jewel.”

“We’ve been trying to find her for you,” Clare said. “We can’t seem to reach anyone on the phone. Not surprising, I guess, on such a perfect Sunday afternoon.”

“Come to my house,” Adam suggested. “You can take a bath and shave and we’ll fix you a big meal, and by that time someone is sure to be home.”

Tris grinned ruefully at his borrowed clothing. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to clean up a bit.”

“You can borrow my clothes. Or we can go by your house and get some of your own.”

“My house”—Tris shook his head in wonder—“I can’t believe I’m here.”

They were in the Jeep and buckling their seat belts when Clare’s phone rang.

“Hi, Clare,” Adam’s mother said. “That was quite a message you left.”

“Myrna! We’ve got Tris in the car with us! He just got off the plane. He was shipwrecked on an island up north of Maine. Listen,” Clare rushed on, “do you know where Lexi is? We think she might know where Jewel is.”

“Lexi has Jewel with her today. Bonnie and Ken are at some lawn party …”

“Jewel’s with Lexi!” Clare told Tris and Adam. To Adam’s mother, she said, “Do you know their plans?”

“I think Lexi was taking her to a special place … a beach—”

“Get out!” Clare shrieked. “Sorry, Myrna, didn’t mean to break your eardrum. I know where they are, thanks, we’ll phone you later.” She leaned forward. “Adam, Lexi’s taken Jewel to Moon Shell Beach.”

Adam gunned the engine and did a U-turn back toward Polpis Road.

“I wonder if Jewel should see me looking like this,” Tris said.

“She won’t care how you look, man,” Adam told him, punching his shoulder. “All she’ll care about is
seeing you. Alive and kicking
.”

The mass of contractors’ trucks and flashy convertibles and UPS vans and Marine Home Center flatbeds crept at a snail’s pace.

“Tell me about Jewel,” Tris said.

Clare was nearly bouncing in her seat. “Tris, she was amazing. She came every single day to wait for you on the town pier. She
knew
you would be coming home.”

“And why is Jewel with your sister?” Tris asked Adam.