Driftwood Lane (Nantucket #4)(51)

Stephen had called when they were on the bike path, but she’d let it roll over to voice mail and then forgot to call until it was too late.

Good news was, the Galaxie was fixed. When they returned from Sconset, Jake was closing the hood and the car was purring.

“You fixed it,” she said.

“Needed a charge and some fluids, was all. She’s good as new.”

Jake had backed the car from the garage, then they’d scrounged up a water hose and some buckets and scrubbed until the aqua paint sparkled. Noelle had been all smiles, especially when Meridith asked if they wanted to take a spin around the block. They piled in the car, Jake put the convertible top down, and Meridith took the wheel.

Now, as she turned over again, the image of Jake, elbow on the open window, hair blowing in the breeze, taunted her. Tomorrow was his last day. He said he expected to finish the fuse box by evening, and there was no reason he couldn’t move out then. No reason at all.

She wondered why, when she lay in bed at night, her thoughts turned to Jake. The realization that she didn’t daydream about Stephen pricked her with guilt. It was only because Jake was a thorn in her side.

But soon he’d be gone, and everything would return to normal.

Normal. She didn’t know what that was anymore. Upheaval had become a way of life. She hadn’t liked it as a child, and she didn’t like it now. But when Jake left, it would be better. Then when she returned to St. Louis, everything would be okay. The kids would settle in and make friends, and she and Stephen could plan their wedding.

Stephen. She had to tell him soon. Trepidation stirred inside, produced adrenaline that would only keep her awake. She didn’t want to think about it now.

She sighed hard. The house was finally quiet again, but she was wide awake.

After wasting two warm breakfasts, Meridith had made a batch of cinnamon rolls for morning. The guys hadn’t even apologized, but they were the guests, she reminded herself. Besides, they were leaving in three days, and she needed the money.

Now that the repairs were finished—at least, as finished as they were going to be—she was free to put Summer Place on the market. But that meant telling the children they were moving to St. Louis, and she wasn’t ready for that.

She placed the task under Things I’m Putting Off, along with Tell Stephen I’m Keeping the Children.

Meridith’s stomach rumbled. Great. They’d eaten an early dinner, then gone for a walk along the beach. Poor Piper had whined from the property’s corner, watching them go. They could hear her clear down to the point. When they’d returned, Meridith helped Max with the dishes, swept the back porch, and made the cinnamon rolls, and by that time, she was ready for bed. Her stomach missed the evening snack.

Her stomach rumbled again. All right, all right. She needed to check the front door anyway. The students had left it unlocked when they returned the night before.

Meridith slipped into the white fluffy robe she’d pilfered from a guest room. The back stairs creaked under her bare feet, sounding loud in the tomblike house. At the bottom of the stairs, she unlocked the divider door and stepped into the kitchen.

The oven night-light cast a dim glow over the countertops. Enough light to guide her to the peanuts. She poured out a handful and recapped the jar, replacing it quietly.

She checked the front door and found it unlocked. She turned the dead bolt and returned to the kitchen. Outside, beyond the porch, the moon shed a pale silvery light over the tops of the sea grass, over the darkened ocean.

Had her father liked to go out back on a night like this? Inspired by the moonlight? Her feet headed toward the door. She flipped on the porch light, stepped outside, then guided the screen door back into place. After popping the last few peanuts into her mouth, she brushed the salt from her hands and started down the steps.

The wind had picked up, and the chilly breeze tugged at her hair. She wrapped the robe tightly around her and padded over the flagstones leading to the beach. The briny smell of sea mingled with the tang of freshly cut grass.

Gritty sand stuck to the bottoms of her feet as she took the beach steps. When she reached the bottom, her feet sank into the cool layer of sand. She walked closer to the shoreline, staring at the cone of light the moon cast on the surface.

It was pale and silvery with blue flecks against the velvety darkness of the night sea. She closed her eyes and listened to the soft ripple of water kissing the shoreline.

A scraping sound startled her and she whipped around. Nothing moved on the dimly lit porch or in the shadowed yard except the shimmying sea grass. Maybe Ben had forgotten to put Piper in the garage.

“Piper?” she called over the rippling water. The wind answered with a gust, sending a shiver over her arms. Gooseflesh pebbled her skin.

Her eyes scanned the backyard again. Nothing. Probably just the wind rocking a chair or tree branches scraping the house.

She looked out to sea and focused on the sounds again. She’d become accustomed to the ocean’s music. The repetition of the waves had a certain rhythm to it. She might even miss it when she left.

She thought of her father and the nice life he’d had here. So different from their life in St. Louis. While in the deepest part of her she couldn’t blame him for leaving her mother, she did blame him for leaving her. Why hadn’t he taken her? Why had he left her to suffer under her mother’s erratic mood swings? Had he thought Meridith had any chance at happiness when he’d had to leave to find it himself? She’d been a child. A lost and lonely child.