Girls of Summer(81)

No one was talking because they didn’t have the breath in them, and besides, the wind whipped away their words. But Juliet was so happy she was crying, unabashedly, and her tears mingled with the rain.





thirty-one


He’d been an idiot to attempt to drive even partway into town. The line of cars stretched from Main Street down to Flora, with more cars joining the line every minute.

“You idiots!” Theo yelled, even though the windows were rolled up and no one could hear him. “You should be driving up toward higher land!”

Possibly, he thought, they were all trying to get to someone they cared for, to take them to safety.

The line didn’t move. Main Street was probably packed bumper to bumper, too.

Frustrated, he pounded his hands against the steering wheel. The wind shrieked as it forced itself between the houses on Union Street. Above him, trees bowed and shook with the wind. Something cracked, and a limb crashed down from a maple, barely missing the car in front of him.

   Anger coiled with fear in his chest. The fear was because of the storm, this freak storm that no one had predicted, that was battering the island, invading the island like a battalion of crazed monsters with giant waves as shields. But he was sure they’d get through this. Of course there would be loss of property, but he was certain there’d be no loss of life. Lives were lost because of storms farther south, in Florida, in the Carolinas, even in Rhode Island, but not here on Nantucket.

Not yet.

A thought hit him in the gut so hard he gasped. Everyone was talking about the ocean these days, all the plastic in it, all the trawlers overfishing, the disappearance of entire species of fish. A photo from Facebook haunted him: a polar bear, so starving its fur hung down around its empty belly, standing alone on an ice floe not much bigger than the bear. That animal, uncomprehending. Hungry.

And Theo thought that the ocean was angry. It was enraged at what humans were doing to it, and it was fighting back. People gave the ocean’s actions the rather gentle phrase “rising seas,” but the seas were not just rising, they were charging, they were destroying, they were at war. All the myths Theo learned in high school about Poseidon flooded back into his mind. Poseidon was the Greek god of the sea. When Odysseus blinded Cyclops, Poseidon’s son, Poseidon took his revenge on Odysseus with such furious storms that Odysseus lost his ship and his companions.

Maybe Poseidon, or whatever god ruled the seas, was taking its revenge on them, at least all the people living on the coasts or making their living in the seas.

Theo didn’t believe this, of course. But he didn’t disbelieve it, either, not right now when the winds sent tempests of rain charging over the harbor and into the town.

Still the line of cars didn’t move. Angry with himself for sitting there doing nothing, Theo suddenly jerked the steering wheel of his car and pulled into the driveway of a house belonging to no one he knew, but he didn’t care. He slammed the car door shut behind him and began to run down the sidewalk toward town and Easy Street. Where Beth was, he hoped.

   As he ran, he realized he had thought of the Greek gods because he wanted to be Beth’s hero. He even wanted to be her husband, and that was a terrifying and challenging idea.

His legs were strong. His core was strong. He had surfing to thank for that. He passed the stalled line of cars on Union Street, turned right, slipped between the stalled line of cars on Main Street, and raced down Cambridge Street, which was already a river of water being driven by the crazed winds into town.

Easy Street was explosive as the narrow harbor funneled the powerful waves up and over the bulkhead, into the street, against the buildings, and up the side streets toward the library garden. Beth’s office was only one building away from Cambridge Street, and as Theo looked, he realized he was being lifted up by waves. Here, the water was almost four feet high. He half-slogged, half-swam toward the OM office. Already he could tell the lights were out, so maybe Beth had gone, or maybe all the power in town was out. He couldn’t call her. His cell was in his jeans pocket, and his jeans were in four feet of water.

It was an eerie scene, this street where people usually sat on benches licking ice cream cones while watching the cute ducks waddle on the little beach and paddle in the calm waters of the harbor. Normally the parking spaces would be filled, parallel to the curb. Now, no cars. No people. Not even a duck, Theo thought, and wondered where they went just at the moment he saw Beth being lifted up by a wave and sucked backward over the bulkhead. She disappeared as the wave crashed down.

Theo dove. Walking was too slow. He was a strong swimmer. He headed for Beth—he was certain it was Beth—and his torso grazed the top of the wooden bulkhead as he swam over it. Water rushed over his eyes, water tugged him down and pushed him sideways, but he swam as hard as he ever had toward the form that he was sure was Beth. It was Beth. He grabbed hold of her with both arms, a stupid but instinctive action, and for a moment they both sank down, but then he held on to her with his right arm and swam with his left arm and kicked hard with his legs. He reached the surface and gasped for breath, and he looked at Beth, who was also gasping for breath but smiling, and he yelled, “I’ve got this.”

   And he watched for the next wave to gather itself and rise and rise, he pulled Beth with him into the channel of the wave and it carried them all the way over the bulkhead and onto the street. He swam to Cambridge Street, still clasping Beth with one hand. Water was already massing on North Beach Street, but he could stand. Beth could stand.