The Identicals(67)

Harper is in charge of food and drink. She has made grilled-chicken BLTs, a classic picnic macaroni salad she threw together, sliced sugared peaches, and lime sugar cookies. She fills a cooler with lots of cold bottled water.

“And this,” Ramsay says, handing her a bottle wrapped in a paper bag.

It’s a bottle of Rock Angel rosé. Harper rolls her eyes. “You, too?”

“I thought all chic women liked to drink rosé at the beach. Your sister loves it.”

“I’m not my sister,” Harper says. “Normally I drink beer, but my stomach has been funny lately.” The truth was, she had nearly vomited up her breakfast that morning; she constantly feels dizzy and unsettled, like she’s just stepped off a carnival ride.

“Let’s just take it,” Ramsay says. “Please?”

Harper unsheathes the bottle and plunges it into the icy bath of the cooler. She won’t make a big deal about it. Today will be pleasant. Today they will be like a family from a storybook, one without conflicts, one without vices, one without history.



They drive the Bronco out Madaket Road, and Ramsay shows Harper where to turn left. They turn onto the dirt and sand of Barrett Farm Road; it takes them on a winding, slightly bumpy journey over an open plain that reminds Harper of pictures she’s seen of the African savanna. This is nothing like the Vineyard. The Vineyard has hills and trees—both pine forest and lush deciduous stands. Nantucket, by comparison, is flat, with low-lying vegetation that makes it easy to see the blue ribbon of the ocean in the distance. There’s a pond on the left and bushes of Rosa rugosa with their lovely pink blossoms. She sees a red-tailed hawk circling overhead. Has that hawk ever made the trip eleven miles west to the Vineyard? she wonders.

She misses Reed. The pain is constant, a heartache, a gut ache. He has moved out and stopped working at the hospital. Nobody knows where he is. Is he thinking about Harper? Is he thinking about anything other than Harper? Does Sadie know where he is? Does she call him? Do they talk? Is his leave from the hospital permanent? Has he been fired? If he has been fired, will he work elsewhere, and if so, where will he go?

Is he eating? Drinking? Smoking? Reading? Riding his bike?

Did Harper ruin his life? Does he blame her? That’s what she really wants to know. Their relationship—the affair—was a mutual decision, as much his as hers, but Reed may feel he has paid more dearly than she has for their indiscretion.

Harper would like to tell him that she, too, has paid dearly. She lost her job. She shredded what was left of her reputation. But what hurts the most is that she lost him.

She wonders if the relationship would have fallen apart on its own with Billy’s death. The circumstances that knit them together would have changed. What would they have had in common?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Ramsay says, snapping Harper out of her reverie.

She offers him a smile. “Sorry,” she says. “Just thinking.”

“About?” he asks.

Harper checks the rearview. Ainsley has her face buried in Fish’s neck, and she’s humming along to the radio.

“The usual,” she says.



The beach is stunning—a wide swath of sand that extends in both directions with only a few people visible in the distance. The waves pound the sand, and Fish runs to the water’s edge and barks his happiness, his relief. He has missed the ocean.

Ramsay puts up a striped umbrella and sets up the chairs, arranging Harper’s out in the sun with two neatly folded towels and a cold bottle of water tucked in the cup holder of the armrest. Ainsley arranges her towel in the sand, then charges in the water, shrieking with delight.

Harper follows suit, diving into an oncoming wave. This is her first swim of the season, and the water is divine. She developed her preference for cold water during all those summers that she and Tabitha spent at Wyonegonic Camp, swimming in Moose Pond. Harper treads water while looking at the horizon. The day is so crystalline that she can just make out the Vineyard in the distance.

Chappy. What she’s seeing is the coastline of Chappaquiddick.

Brendan, Drew, and Reed—they’re all over there.

She turns back toward shore. Ainsley climbs out of the water, splashing Ramsay as she goes. Ramsay has taken off his glasses; he looks younger, and Harper can easily imagine him in a Boy Scout uniform decorated with the most demanding badges: first aid, citizenship, lifesaving. He squints and waves in her general direction.



As the day goes by, Harper feels better—more centered, less lost. She and Ramsay settle on the blanket under the umbrella to eat lunch. Ainsley has fallen asleep facedown on her towel, and Harper, in her mother role, covers her back and shoulders with her sarong so she doesn’t burn.

The picnic is delicious, if Harper does say so herself.

Ramsay says, “I can’t believe what a great cook you are.”

Harper laughs. “It’s a sandwich.”

“Well, your sister has a hard time with cold cereal,” he says.

“She is my mother reincarnated,” Harper says.

“I realized when you said you were thinking about the usual that I know almost nothing about you,” Ramsay says. “Have you ever been married?”

“Never married, no kids,” Harper says.

“That’s unusual, right?” Ramsay says. “You and Tabitha are almost forty and neither of you ever married?”