A Nantucket Wedding(55)
“Hey, Jane, it’s summer. It’s the Fourth of July weekend. Your boss wouldn’t expect you to be working on a holiday.”
“Maybe not. But I certainly have worked on weekends and holidays before. I guess I don’t feel comfortable being here.”
“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” Ethan said. He stopped talking and set his tiles on the board, forming the word cheese.
“Hey, thanks for all the E’s,” Jane said, and quickly made the word greater.
She loved words. She usually won at Scrabble. It was a relief, the way her mind latched onto the game, overriding her other concerns as she focused on winning points. She snickered smugly when she got an X. “Ha!” she exclaimed as she made the word example, with Ethan’s E at the end of the word.
“Well done,” Ethan said, writing down the points on the scorecard.
He built his word from her E: desire.
Jane’s body flashed with heat. Ethan’s hand was on the table, close, male, with long, clean nails and hair on his knuckles. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick with muscle, and the palms of his hands were calloused from working on the farm. All she had to do, and all she wanted to do at this moment in her life, was to touch her hand to his, to allow herself to accept the current of pleasure that rushed through her whenever they touched. Here he was, this beautiful man, and no quarrel lay between them, their relationship was new and fresh and, because of their families, fraught with a kind of playful wickedness. She imagined what Scott was doing now, probably already home from his Fourth of July party, in his office, diligently working away. Had Jane become just as assiduous? Had her work routine fallen around the hours of her life like a cage? Could she never be spontaneous? Were her wild, hedonistic days over? Had she become a living blueprint with all her next moves blocked out, never to be changed? If she stayed with Scott, she would never know how it felt to be pregnant, to hold a baby in her arms. If she stayed with Scott, her life was laid out in a pattern as gridlocked as a jail cell.
But she loved Scott. She did love him. She had vowed to be faithful to him.
What she had with Ethan, whatever foolish relationship she was building with him, was only a game, with no more meaning than the Scrabble letters on the board.
Jane stood up. “I’m sorry, Ethan, but suddenly I’m exhausted. I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“Jane…” Ethan stood up, too. “I didn’t mean to insult you—”
“No, I know that, it’s not that. I’m just terribly tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She went out of the room and up the stairs, leaving Ethan behind to put away the Scrabble game.
* * *
—
Tuesday, after a lazy morning, they all sailed to Coatue on David’s boat. The sky was a high sapphire blue and the long curved beach at the fourth point was quiet and unpopulated except for the usual shrieking gulls. They ate sandwiches and potato chips and cookies, and swam in the cool turquoise water, and lay back on their beach towels, surrendering to the warmth of the sun. To Alison’s surprise, both Ethan and Jane spent time with Daphne and Hunter, playing with them in the water, walking along the shore, searching for treasures, and Poppy was able to put her straw sun hat over her face and fall asleep. Patrick took the opportunity to go for a long, challenging swim farther away from shore than usual, and he came back grinning from ear to ear.
“You went far out, Daddy!” Daphne said.
“I know,” Patrick said. “Just giving my muscles a workout.” He picked his daughter up and swung her around while she squealed with glee.
In the late afternoon, they sailed back to the island and moored the boat and drove back to the house. Even the children were quiet, partly from the sunny day, partly from the ice cream cones they were enjoying. At home, Poppy took the children off to shower and David fell flat on the bed and was instantly asleep. Alison took a brisk shower and dressed, loving her tanned limbs and the glow of the sun on her face. She pulled on a loose cotton shift, slid her feet into sandals, and went down to the kitchen to unpack the picnic baskets. But Jane and Ethan had already done that.
“We’ve ordered pizza,” Ethan said. “Patrick’s gone off to pick it up. We want to eat in front of the television and watch a movie.”
“It will have to be PG because of the kids,” Alison reminded them.
“My brain’s so melted, PG is about all I can handle,” Jane joked.
The family crowded into the den with drinks and pizzas and lots of napkins to watch Descendants 2. David came down with bedhead hair and joined them, and for a while Alison was content, not worried about anyone.
Except, maybe…Ethan and Jane were becoming awfully chummy. They sat side by side on the floor, leaning against a chair, their arms and thighs not quite, but almost, touching. It looked as if they were a couple. What did that mean?
Nothing, Alison told herself. David had often teased Alison, saying that if she didn’t have anything to worry about, she’d worry because she wasn’t worrying.
She smiled to herself and took another piece of pizza.
eighteen
During the middle of July, Felicity’s children, and Poppy’s, too, were signed up for camps, and Jane and Scott were crushed with work. David needed to work, too, so Alison invited her best friend, Margo, down for a few days. They walked and talked and shopped and dined, and in the humid evenings they sequestered themselves in front of the television and watched very romantic and completely unrealistic movies. It was better than seeing a therapist.