A Nantucket Wedding(12)
“Still weird,” Lisa had concluded.
Jane had enjoyed the honeymoon immensely. Every day she felt stronger from hiking, and in spite of sunscreen, she got a fantastic tan, and she never thought about work—how could she, when she was in such an unworldly landscape? Maybe she and Scott hadn’t made love as much as they should have, but again, they’d been together for two years, so the bloom was off the rose, and besides, they hiked or rode horseback every day and were completely bushed at night. And now that she remembered it, Scott—typical male—had refused to wear sunscreen, and gotten a painful sunburn on his arms and legs. For several days he couldn’t stand to have Jane touch him.
And look, their marriage had lasted. They were filling in all the right boxes in their plans. Once they’d bought an apartment in the city, then they would travel in more exotic places. Bali. Tokyo. She wanted to see the opal caves in Australia.
But recently, suddenly, unexpectedly, Jane had started wishing for something more than all the opal caves in the world.
She wanted to have a baby.
Maybe more than one.
A few months ago, she’d been astonished to find this craving unfolding within herself, like a dormant plant opening so wide it took up all the room in her heart and could not be ignored. She wanted a child. Or two. She caught herself pausing at the windows of baby-clothing stores, smiling at young mothers carrying their babies on their chests. She wanted the tiny white onesie embroidered with a duck, the wraparound garment that held a baby close to her heart—she wanted to carry a baby in her body and to give birth even if it did make her scream in pain.
She had forced herself to wait for months before discussing this with Scott. She didn’t want to talk about something so huge, so life-changing, without giving it serious thought. She had never been moody. She’d never been fickle in her decisions or her actions, and she understood how women’s hormones could cause temporary insanity. She’d forced herself to study glossy sites about hiking trips in the four corners of the world, and nothing had called to her, but the moment a mother came down the street pushing a stroller, Jane’s eyes were pulled irresistibly to the sight of the baby—and when she saw the child, her heart melted.
Finally, she’d brought up the idea to Scott, after first marshaling her arguing points as if preparing for a court case, because she knew her husband well. He hated change. She’d expected a battle. It hadn’t been a battle so much as a kind of tantrum on Jane’s part and a quiet, adamant, sustained lack of interest from Scott. Scott simply remained politely unwilling to engage in an argument, certain that Jane would wear herself down and subside in exhaustion.
And for a while, she did subside. She allowed Scott to remind her of the pleasures of their chosen life, not just by getting tickets to the best seats at the biggest plays and concerts but also by spending a day with her touring the charter school in the Bronx and talking with the real children whom they were supporting with their financial donations. She waged her own silent war by accepting every invitation from friends with children—rosy-cheeked, giggling tots who made an appearance before being gently taken to bed by the babysitter or nanny.
Her efforts had been in vain. Scott was firmly planted in his decision; she could not coax or seduce or cajole him even to consider her desire.
Now she pushed the thought away and listened to the waves splash against the sand as she returned to David’s house. She still wasn’t tired, so she decided to enjoy a beer and sit on the deck for a while.
“Hey.”
“Oh!” Jane jumped at the sound of Ethan’s voice. He was sitting on a lounger, beer bottle in hand, looking toward the ocean.
“Nice night for a walk,” Ethan said. He wore a T-shirt and board shorts and his feet were bare.
“Or for stargazing,” Jane answered, intending to slip past him into the house.
“Join me,” Ethan invited. He held up another cold beer.
“Wait. How did you do that? Produce a beer out of thin air?”
Ethan laughed. “I’m lazy but I’m smart. I brought a cooler out with ice and a few beers in it.”
“Oh. Well, thanks.” Jane accepted the beer—their hands touched lightly—and stretched out on the lounger next to him. “Ah. This is brilliant. But what, you were planning to sit out here drinking beer all night?”
“I’ve certainly done it before,” Ethan said. “But no, I came out with the beer because I saw you walk down to the beach.”
Jane worked hard to keep from choking on her sip of beer. She cleared her throat. “So you couldn’t sleep, either?”
“That, and also I thought it would be nice to get to know you.”
His words made her go hot all over. She was glad it was too dark for him to see her blush. Mom and David! Jane thought, rather desperately trying to catalog his words in a nonpersonal file. Ethan is family, kind of. “Oh, right. After all, we’re going to be kind of stepsiblings.”
Ethan laughed. He had a nice, low, soft laugh. “Maybe not stepsiblings at our age. I think there’s probably a sell-by date on that.”
“All right, then, we can be friends.” Jane liked attaching a nice neutral term to her relationship, not that she had a relationship, with Ethan.
Ethan laughed. “Let’s shake on it.”
He turned sideways on the lounger and extended his hand. Jane had no choice but to do the same. His hand was warm, calloused, larger than hers.