Girls of Summer(43)

Theo kind of remembered his father. A shade, a shadow, tall and broad and handsome. Theo’s mom always said, “I’m so glad you’re a big gorgeous guy like your father.”

She was always saying nice things about his father, this man who hadn’t seen him at all since Theo was a little kid. So many times he’d wished his father was dead. A lot of times, when people asked, Theo told them his father was dead. Then he’d put on a sad face and look at the ground and refuse to talk about it anymore.

Why had his mom never cursed his father, wept with hatred? She probably thought that in some twisted way she was protecting him. But Theo knew plenty of guys in school whose father had moved away, divorced, that stuff. He’d seen a mom throwing dishes in a fit of anger at her ex-husband.

   Jeez, he was getting totally morbid lying here like this, where old memories drifted out of the walls to haunt him.

He needed something. Something to ease the pain. He’d brought some oxy with him from California, in case his arm went bad again, but this pain wasn’t physical.

He reached under his mattress to see if the porn magazine was still there. That would cheer him up. He felt the flutter of paper and pulled out Golf magazine. He’d always hated golf, it was boring. How did this mag get here, in his room, under his mattress?

His mom, he realized. His mom had played a trick on him. Which meant she’d known he’d be back home someday.

He heaved out a large breath and lay back on his pillow and looked at the May 2015 cover. A minute later, he was asleep.





fourteen


Beth woke to discover that her father, as usual, had made coffee, left her a note on the refrigerator, and gone off to work. She drank her coffee while she showered and dressed, eager to start her own job. The day was brilliant, warm and bright. Beth walked from her home to the new Ocean Matters office on Easy Street. What a location, right on the waterfront next to the Steamship Authority docks! For a moment, she studied the front of the office. It had a large picture window. She’d find a great poster to put there to lure people in. This space had been an antiques shop years ago, and then a real estate agency. Now it was the Nantucket headquarters for Ocean Matters, and wasn’t that change? Didn’t that show that people were beginning to care about the environment?

She unlocked the door with the shiny brass keys Prudence had given her, along with several folders of documents and a scribbled list of Beth’s duties.

   First things first, Beth thought, as she surveyed the large room. A desk, two large tables, a computer and printer, and a storage locker had been carelessly brought in, along with several boxes of supplies. The office looked disorganized—well, it was disorganized, but now she was fresh and full of ideas and optimism after her conversation with Prudence. She needed to find someone to build the website. She could work on a draft of the mission statement, and a list of people who should receive an invitation to join Ocean Matters.

Prudence had given her a list of the more environmentally aware people with money who should be at the top of the appeal. But certainly, Beth thought, they needed young people, too, people her age who were optimistic about the future because honestly, they had to be. She typed in a few names. She hadn’t been on the island for years and she’d lost touch with old friends. She was still living in a sort of dream world, transitioning from her life as a graduate student to life back in the town and the house where she’d grown up. She had planned to take a week to renew her familiarity with the island, to spend some time with her father, who must have been so lonely without her. But so quickly she had a job, and one she believed in!

Her fingers were on the keyboard when Ryder strode into the room. She’d met him briefly at the lecture, and she had spoken with him on the phone after Prudence hired her, but he was still new to her, and in a way, larger than life.

“Come with me,” he said without even saying hello. “We’re going out to Cisco. There’s a seal stranded on the beach. Neck caught in a plastic net. The Marine Mammal Stranding Team just phoned. I want to see this. I want you to see it. My island ride is out on the street. We’ll go in that.”

Beth jumped up. She grabbed her phone, her purse, the keys.

“I should lock up.”

“Hurry.”

   Beth double-checked the door and raced out to climb into the passenger seat of his Range Rover. Ryder hit the gas the moment she’d shut her door. She clicked on her seatbelt.

They rode up to Washington Street, over Dover, and turned right at Five Corners, heading for Hummock Pond Road.

“It’s not far,” Ryder said, as much to himself as to Beth.

“I know,” she answered. “Do you want me to video it?”

“Good idea. Yes.”

She was outrageously pleased with herself. She looked straight ahead, feeling important and purposeful.

After a few moments of silence, she sneaked a look at Ryder’s hands on the steering wheel. They looked strong and tan, as if he was a man who sailed boats. Carefully, she slid her eyes up to settle on the side of his face. He had a handsome, strong profile, like a king or the commander of a ship. His nose and cheeks were red from the sun and his forehead was paler than the rest of his face, like so many men who wore their scalloper’s caps all the time. When Prudence hired Beth for the job, she’d informed Beth that Ryder was divorced, lived in Boston, and was president of the board of Ocean Matters.