My One and Only(96)

Leaving was the right thing to do.

Are you insane? How could it be the right thing?

Please. Let’s not get hysterical here. It’s not as though Nick and I are done, we’re just—

Oh, God, go back, what are you thinking, that man is the love of your stupid life!

As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, we’re just figuring things out. I have other responsibilities, don’t forget.

Didn’t you see the look in his eyes? You did it again. You left him.

Finally, I grabbed my laptop case. There was the yellow envelope that contained my mother’s information. Fat lot of good that did me, huh? So much for closure—more like a reopening of the jugular. What would I have done without Nick that day? (See, idiot? Can we turn this plane around?) Veering away from the tarry emotions that paved the path of maternal memories, I flipped open my laptop and looked at my calendar. Court on Tuesday, Schultz v. Schultz, Judge Keller. Easy peasy…a couple who’d parted ways without so much as a whimper. So civilized. Lunch with Father Bruce. Kim and I were supposed to have a night out on Thursday. That would be great…I could use a little girlfriend time.

What about Nick? When will you see Nick again?

I have no clue, I answered. I will call him tomorrow. Or even tonight. So can you please leave me alone?

We landed in Boston, and I got the resentful Coco from steerage. “I’m sorry. You deserve much better,” I told her as I lugged her crate, my suitcase, laptop carrier and purse to the Cape Air gate. She ignored me, and who could blame her? “It wasn’t much better where I was,” I assured her. “One quick hop, and we’re home again. Bear with me.”

A short while later, we were flying over the Atlantic. No sooner had we taken off than the plane seemed to begin its descent to Martha’s Vineyard. A lump came to my throat at the sight of the island. There were the cliffs of Gay Head in variegated streaks of brown and white, the scrubby green bayberry and beach plum gentling the ragged shore. Waves broke against the beach, and I could see gulls flying and fluttering as they dropped shellfish onto the rocks. Just around the curve of Aquinnah was Menemsha, Dutcher’s Dock and home.

Our plane landed without fanfare, and as I got off, I sucked in a deep breath of the salty, pine-scented air. It seemed as if I’d been gone for a year, not just a week. The sun beat down hot on my hair, and the wind blew strands into my eyes. A mockingbird sang from on top of the gray-shingled terminal.

This was where I belonged. Fourth-generation Islander, granddaughter of a fisherman.

I sprang Coco, clipped on her leash and managed to wrestle my luggage out the door. Coco paused, never a fan of automatic doors. “Coco, come on, honey, don’t get Chihuahua on me—oh, my God.”

Oh, my God indeed. Oh, crotch, in fact.

Because there, in front of the terminal, was a Martha’s Vineyard fire truck, eight firemen, a small crowd of regular people and quite a few kids.

And Dennis Patrick Costello, on bended knee.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“DENNIS,” I BREATHED. “Holy testicle Tuesday.”

The horror of the situation splayed out in front of me. After two and a half noncommittal years together, one dodged marriage proposal and a breakup, Dennis was about to pop the question.

My eyes, which felt stretched way too wide, took in the scene. Jeez Louise. Were those Dennis’s—yep. His parents. His nice parents, Sarah and Jack. His two sisters, their spouses, too. Various and sundry children, aka Den’s nieces and nephews…all present. There was his brother, who owned the apartment where Den lived. My father, who gave me a somber nod. The guys from Platoon C—including Chuck, who hated me, as well as Fire Chief Rogers—all present.

“Hey,” Dennis grinned. He was holding something. Two things, in fact. A piece of wire, was it? And a small black velvet box. Which he now opened, revealing the ring I’d bought for myself four weeks ago.

Crotch. Crotchety crotch crotch. This was bad. Plagues of Egypt bad.

Coco, seeing her buddy, bolted forward, and as I appeared to be in a state of paralysis, the leash slipped from my limp fingers.

“Hi, Coco! How are you, cutie? Did you miss me?” Dennis, still on one knee, allowed himself to be licked by my bouncing little dog, then passed the leash to one of the nieces.

“Dennis, what are you doing?” someone squeaked. Oh. It was me.

He grinned up at me. “Harper,” he began.

“Den—” I said. Then words deserted me, leaving only strange little airy noises coming out of my mouth.

“She’s speechless,” said a familiar voice. Theo. My boss was also here. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day.” There was Carol, grinning. Tommy, too. Crikey.

“Harp,” Dennis said, smiling broadly. “This week apart has taught me some big lessons. Big lessons, dude.”

“Dennis—”

“Yeah, no, let me finish. Um…” He paused, frowned, then remembered the rest of what was clearly a rehearsed speech. “I guess I didn’t realize what a…jewel?” He glanced at his mother, who nodded encouragingly. Chuck made a rather loud choking noise. “What a jewel I had in you,” Dennis continued, “but now that we’ve been, you know, away from each other, I…uh…” He paused, thought, then looked up again. “Well, shit, I wrote this all down but I can’t remember now. Whatever. Harp, I think you’re awesome, I love you, and I know I haven’t been the greatest boyfriend ever, but I found your list—” Oh, crotch! The list! I hated myself! Dennis fumbled in his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper and handed it to me. “Go ahead, he said. “Take a look.”