Summer Harbor (22 page)

Catherine had charmed his mother. Not in a phony, Eddie Haskell sort of way, like in the
Leave It to Beaver
reruns on Nick at Nite, but in a genuine and cheerful way—much as she’d charmed him, but without the physical attraction. Catherine’s plan to go premed had given the pair a lot to talk about and he’d been able to relax.

If only Grainger had agreed to stay. Or his mother had been more gracious in inviting him. Will was certain that, once in the same room, they would begin to renew their relationship. He wasn’t looking for miracles, just for the two of them to be comfortable enough that he could speak of one to the other. Was this what it was like for kids with divorced parents? Right now, his mother winced whenever he brought up Grainger’s name—like today, telling her how much fun he was having working on the boats. Grainger had told him about crewing for Pop on
Random,
and had all but suggested that Will might be a part of that team. On hearing this, Mom had turned away from him, falling back on the usual “We’ll see,” as if he were a little kid. And Grainger—Christ, he changed the subject so fast any time he said anything about his mother.

He had spent a very productive morning with Grainger. He was beginning to really enjoy the work, the physicality of it, the sight and feel of a smooth board. This morning Grainger had uncovered the smallest of the boats in his yard.

“This one needs a lot of sanding, then caulking. She’s been out of the water for a long time. I’ll start varnishing
Random;
you get started on this one.”

Will noticed a line along the starboard side of the bow, above the waterline. The morning light touched it in exactly the right way to reveal an outline. He looked around for Grainger, but he was inside on the phone. Will pressed with the palm of his hand. Sure enough, the tactile difference between the bent wood of the lapped boards and the fiberglass-over-canvas that repaired the hole was obvious. She had to be
Blithe Spirit
.

Grainger came back out into the yard. “You wouldn’t believe that some people think they can buy time. They think they can hurry me up with money.” He came around the side of the boat. Will had his hands back on the sander. Grainger’s eyes were on Will, then the boat and the unsanded bow. “Let’s go sailing.”

Grainger had let him work his way out of the small cove, threading the boat around the three other craft moored on Grainger’s private moorings. Grainger sat on the starboard side, hat pulled down against the mid-morning sun, saying little, letting Will figure out how much to let out the mainsheet, how little to move the tiller. As they came around the edge of the cove, Grainger nodded.

“Well done.”

Will had often been commended, for pitching a good game, or writing a meaningful essay, or raising more money for the AIDS Alliance than any other student. But those two words,
Well done,
touched a deeper part of him than any others. He grinned into the wind.

“Tell me about Catherine.” Grainger was watching the blue pennant at the top of the mast.

“She’s great.”

“You really like her.” A statement of fact.

“Yeah. I’ve never met anyone it was so easy to be with. She doesn’t play any games.” Will moved the tiller a degree, straightening their course.

“What kind of games do girls play these days?”

“Lori, my old girlfriend, liked to yank my chain.” Will glanced away from the horizon at Grainger’s slight smile. “I mean, she’d say she didn’t mind if I went out with my friends, then get all mad if I did. I never knew if she was testing me or just changing her mind.” Will pulled a little too much on the mainsheet, then quickly corrected his error before Grainger had to say anything.

“Sounds like a bitch.”

Will grinned. “She could be. Especially the way she broke it off.”

“How was that?”

“Her parents were away, so she had a party. She asked me to go outside with her and I thought she meant for some, well, private time.” Will took a better hold on the mainsheet. “Anyway, she told me that since we were going to two different colleges, we should break it off. No sense holding each other back.”

“Pretty harsh.”

“I thought so.”

They sailed in silence for a few minutes; then Grainger gave the order to jibe. The mainsheet slid between Will’s fingers and he watched Grainger deftly shift to the port side of the boat as the boom swung. For an instant all motion was suspended; then Will gathered the sail back into control, catching the wind with ease.

“Very nice.”

Again Will felt the unaccountable happiness those simple words stirred in his heart. As if, all of his life, despite unstinting maternal confirmation of his worthiness, he was finally getting the paternal approval he’d craved.

“Did you love her?”

“I thought I did. But now, knowing Catherine, I see that I was mistaken.”

Grainger poured some coffee out of a thermos into his mug.

“Then I did something totally stupid.” Will adjusted the tiller slightly.

“What was that?”

“I went with my buddies and got high. And got caught.”

“Pot?”

“Yeah.”

Grainger didn’t say anything to that, and Will was a little afraid that Grainger’s opinion of him was sullied. “I only did it that once. I’m an athlete. I just did it because…”

“Because it felt better to hurt yourself than let someone else do it.”

Will nodded.

“We all do stupid things, Will. It’s how we behave afterward that counts.”

“Catherine says that it was actually a good thing that I did it. If I hadn’t, Mom wouldn’t have brought me here to get away from those friends of mine. The stupid thing is, I have so little in common with D.C. and Mike except that we’re in the same homeroom, and we’ve always just hung out from habit. We’re not that close. I really wouldn’t have been hanging around with them this summer, at least not much, but I didn’t say that. And she went ballistic on me and decided that I would become a pothead if I stayed home. I guess I really fucked up her trust in me. Sorry, didn’t mean to use that word.”

Grainger’s burst of laughter surprised them both. “I spent ten years in the Merchant Marine; I don’t think you can shock me. Anyway, maybe Catherine’s right. Sometimes things do work out for the best.”

Will adjusted his course gently, and the bow sliced through the green-gray water with an audible hiss. They were clipping along, his sail set to maximize the light airs. It had felt so right telling Grainger the truth about that night; why hadn’t he been able to tell his mother yet?

As a little kid, Will would sometimes pick out some guy and imagine he was his father. Never one of the guys his mother dated; usually some clerk in an ice cream shop or hardware store. Once it was a school-bus driver who’d been solicitous to him one day when he’d tripped and fallen on the sidewalk and his lunch had spilled out all over the pavement. The guy had actually gotten up out of his seat and helped Will scoop up his rolling thermos and scattered Goldfish crackers. Mom had been there too, and it was the broad thank-you she’d expressed to the guy for helping, instead of driving away to keep on his schedule, that had filled Will’s daydreams for most of second grade.

But this was different. It wasn’t a daydream. He could prove that Grainger was his father.

•   •   •

Will sat quietly, a glass of cola slowly warming in his hand as he happily listened to Catherine and his mother chat with animation about the medical profession. Kiley was already into anecdotes from her years in school. He was pleased, and happy to let them keep the conversational ball to themselves. The two women lazed on the porch rockers, keeping an identical slow rhythm. Will sat on the porch rail with his back against the post. The late July sunset was earlier than it had been even a week ago, and they sat in near dark. A tin bucket of citronella burned at their feet, its tiny flame the same color as the waxing moon that peeked over the eastern horizon, casting a yellow swath of light against the darkening water.

“This is so beautiful, Ms. Harris. Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”

“I’m glad you came. I hope you come again.” Despite the farewell quality of the words, neither one moved to end the evening.

Will closed his eyes and listened to the soft rhythmic thump of the rockers. The dinner could only have been better if Grainger had stayed. But all in all, it had been great. He smiled. Catherine was right; his punishment had become his reward. Unfortunately, his reward had been hard on his mother. Selling this place was taking a toll on her, and his friendship with Grainger was stressing her out so much that she’d taken to sleepless wandering around. Will knew the difference in his mother’s fretting. The house-fretting generally meant under-the-breath cussing about Toby, and slamming doors. The Grainger stress was sharper, deeper, and was revealed only in her sighs when she thought herself unobserved. Sighs born of nostalgia and pain and maybe a little jealousy of his ease with her former friend.

When he was little, sometimes he’d hear his mother sigh like that, generally only in the late spring when Nana and Pop were loading the car up for Hawke’s Cove. Then he’d hear her slow intake of breath, with a rapid release, like someone getting ready to scream or cry. As a child, he’d distracted her by dropping a glass, or skinning his knee. Now, older, he let her wallow a little before pulling up some half-interesting anecdote about school or friends to entertain her out of her doldrums.

“Well, I should leave you two alone.” His mother got up, stretched, and leaned her hands on the porch rail. “No, stay put, Catherine, I can manage the few dishes.”

Will slid down from the rail. “We might go catch a movie.”

“Great. Home right after, though, okay?”

“Okay.”

Will kissed his mother’s cheek, then grasped his new girlfriend’s hand. They called again their thanks and good-nights. As they pulled away from the house, his mother was still standing there, gazing out at the rising moon. Even though she was shadowed by the cover of the porch roof, Will sensed she looked out with sadness. Toby had said that he was coming tomorrow with an offer from that couple who had looked at the house today. How many more nights did they have to sit and watch the moon rise over Hawke’s Cove? A very finite number.

“I like your mother; she’s really sweet.” Catherine’s voice broke through the building nostalgia, sending it scurrying. There would be plenty of time later to be sorry the house was gone. Right now he had this great girl sitting beside him, one who, with the right care, might remain a part of his autumn and beyond.

“Not all the time, but I guess she’s all right.” Will was pleased with the way Kiley and Catherine had gotten along, only a little embarrassed that his mother had drilled Catherine about whether she had done the same sorts of things that she herself had done a million years ago. Did she go to the Yacht Club dances? Catherine’s family weren’t members. Did kids still hang out at the harbor? Mostly kids were discouraged from hanging out in Hawke’s Cove; they went to the mall in Great Harbor instead. Those sorts of questions got a little old after a while, but Catherine hadn’t seemed to mind. Will had finally moved the interrogation off memory lane and into the present.

They drove slowly along the bluff road. “Thanks for putting up with her inquisition. She’s reliving her past by being here.”

“I didn’t mind. I can’t imagine not ever coming back here, and then, when I did, knowing it was for the last time.”

Catherine’s remark brought a fresh lurch of nostalgia to Will. He’d been denied any contact with this place until the last minute, and now it was too late. He hadn’t planned on loving it, he did love this place, despite his intention to spend the time here sulking. It wasn’t just meeting the man who might be his father, or even meeting a girl he so instantly cared about. It was this place.

“Do we have to go to the movies?” Will turned the car radio down, the insistent beat of a rap song suddenly too harsh for the quiet between them.

“I guess not. Why?”

“I’d like to just sit on the beach for a little while.”

Catherine took her hand off the wheel and touched his hand. “I’d like that.”

They went past Catherine’s house to the small parking area at the head of the path to Bailey’s Beach. They found damp towels in the backseat of her car and carried them down to the beach. There the waves lapped hungrily at the shoreline, arrhythmic, sensual.

Will snugged Catherine close to him on his towel. “It’s still so warm out; we should have brought suits and gone swimming.”

Catherine stroked his back with her hand. “We don’t need suits.”

Will didn’t move. “That’s how my mother got in trouble.”

“I’m on the pill.”

“Are we ready for that yet?”

“Probably not, but if we were, I can promise you, you won’t find me in the same place as your mother.”

“I’m not sure I can talk about sex and my mother in the same sentence. I think that a dip in the cold water will have the same effect.”

“Shall we go see?” Catherine stood up and, keeping her back to Will, dropped her clothes onto the sand. “Come on, shy-boy. I won’t look and I won’t tease. I just want a swim.” Catherine was clearly visible in the moonlight touching her skin into silver. He watched as she ran to the water’s edge, toed it, shivered, and then plunged in. In a moment, he was beside her. The cold water did nothing to discourage his natural, eighteen-year-old’s reaction to the sight of Catherine’s bare bottom, exposed for a moment as she dived beneath the surface. He was amazed at the sense of freedom being suitless lent him, like sleeping nude, the silken water like silk sheets caressing his body. He made Catherine turn around when he bolted out of the water for the shore, hastily covering himself with a damp towel. He kept his back turned as Catherine came out of the sea, but in his imagination he saw her as a short-haired Venus rising out of the shell, hands gracefully covering critical areas. The image did nothing to alleviate his body’s reaction to her nearby nakedness. He sat with his hands over his towel-wrapped lap.