Beach Girls (18 page)

Their eyes locked. Jack was hanging on her answer. She wanted to warn him, tell him that she was no good for him—fantasy was one thing, this was something else. She had made big mistakes before, and she didn't want anyone to be hurt. She thought of Nell sleeping in the other room, and remembered what it had been like to lose her mother. The loss had created an abyss of longing, and Stevie felt it even now.

In fact, gazing into Jack's dark eyes, she felt it in a whole new way. Although she had pulled away, he kept one arm around her shoulders. His touch was wildly romantic and somehow erotic, the feel of his fingertips against the bare skin of her left arm. She found it hard to sit still.

“I should go,” she said.

“You're saying that, but I don't believe you want to.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how I feel . . . and I think you feel the same way.”

He leaned down, brushed his lips against hers, found the kiss. Stevie's arms went around his neck again. He smelled of salt and sweat and citrus. She wanted to swim with him. Her body yearned for it, and she pressed her chest against his, feeling wild and wordless, for once the thoughts stopping and the sensations taking over.

Nell turned over, made a small sound.

And that was it. Stevie was on her feet. Swaying, none too steady, she backed away. Jack reached out, tried to pull her back. But Stevie didn't want Nell to wake up and find her new friend kissing her father.

“I have to go,” she whispered.

“No—Stevie . . . I want to talk to you.”

“Not tonight,” she said. She felt dizzy. “Okay? I really do have to go.”

“When can we see the castle?”

“Tomorrow? The next day? Anytime you're ready.”

“The sooner the better,” he said. “We'll be leaving in three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” she asked.

“That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.” He stood, walked over, touched her arm.

She nodded. Her face felt hot, and the dizziness felt more intense. She knew she had to get out of there right then, or she never would. She pulled back her arm, smiled into his eyes.

“I'm taking a job in Scotland,” he said, and she felt the smile leave her face.

“When?”

“In three weeks,” he repeated.

Stevie thought of Nell, going so far away. She thought of Madeleine, losing the chance to reconcile. And she thought of Jack, of how very little she could hope to sort out her feelings for him during three short weeks. Her heart caved in, and she made herself stand tall.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“I'm sorry you have to leave,” she said. “With so much left to do . . .”

“Your aunt's castle?”

Stevie smiled sadly. “That's what you think?” she asked.

He squinted, not replying. Then he shook his head. “It's just the easiest,” he said finally.

“Wow,” she said, thinking of the ivy-covered walls, the vines snaking through mortar, the tumbling-down rocks, the overgrown paths . . . He was right, really, that the physical work was so much easier than the emotional. “I wish, I wish,” she began.

“What do you wish, Stevie?”

“I wish that Nell could have her aunt in her life, the way I have mine.”

He looked away, cleared his throat, ignoring her words. “We'd better go see the castle soon,” he said. “Tomorrow—how's noon?”

“Noon is fine.”

“I'm just curious,” he said after a moment, touching the side of her face.

“What?” she said, her skin tingling.

“Is that the only reaction you have to my saying we're moving to Scotland?”

“The only one I'm prepared to say out loud,” she said softly. And then she turned and walked out the door into the bright, moonlit night.

JACK WATCHED
her go. He had to hold himself back, to keep from following her. His heart was racing, and he felt strange. Stevie was gone, but some kind of . . . of aura, or spirit, was left behind. The room crackled. Jack didn't understand, had never felt anything like this before. He felt overloaded with energy—as if he could run twenty miles. He stretched, trying to discharge it.

He wanted everything to be different, he wanted to undo so much. He knew that Stevie was right about Nell. But she didn't know the whole story. There was more to it than she thought.

Still, he felt the strange energy left by their talk, and he found himself picking up the telephone. He dialed information, got a number.

His fingers were trembling as he held the receiver to his ear.

The phone rang and rang. He looked at his watch: maybe they were out.

But then a woman answered, and he heard her voice.

“Hello?” his sister said.

Jack didn't speak. He just held on, wanting to say the one thing that would make everything okay, wipe away all the hurt and suspicion. He didn't want to leave with this between them.

“Hello?” she said again.

Jack's mind spun out with their last meeting, the truth of what Madeleine had told him, the fury with which he'd fought her story. If he talked to her now, it would be letting her version of the events back into his life, and he knew he couldn't do that to Nell.

“Who is this?” Madeleine asked.

Jack wanted to tell her, but he couldn't. So he just hung up.

Chapter 16

STEVIE PICKED THEM UP AT NOON, AFTER
Nell's morning at recreation, and they drove under the train trestle and onto Shore Road. Nell was beside herself with excitement—she squirmed in the backseat, pointing out landmarks and talking nonstop. Jack's excitement surpassed his daughter's. For once, Nell had slept through the night while he lay awake staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what was happening.

They stopped at Paradise Ice Cream for lunch, with Stevie ordering an extra lobster roll for her aunt. They carried their trays over to picnic tables behind the white shack, overlooking the marsh. Seagulls circled around, watching for someone to drop a scrap.

Bright sunlight turned the streams and coves to mirrors. It highlighted Stevie's ebony hair, close-cropped to expose the beautiful neck that Jack recalled kissing the night before. He wanted to reach across, push the bangs from her violet eyes, touch her porcelain cheek. He restrained himself, and it wasn't easy. Especially when she looked directly into his eyes with a look that said she was having the same difficulty.

When they finished, they climbed back into Stevie's car and drove a little farther along the main road. Then they turned off onto a lane that took them back under the train line, and then onto a side road that led them up a steep hill. Soon the pavement gave way to a gravel track, and the ride got bumpy. Nell jumped and cried out—her nightmares all had to do with what she imagined about her mother's last ride on that godforsaken country road—so Jack just reached into the backseat to hold her hand and tell her they were safe.

“We're almost there,” Stevie said, glancing into the rearview mirror. She could see that Nell was pure white, gripping her father's hand. “Look, Nell—see? There's the gatehouse!”

She slowed the car down, and tooted the horn. A man and a red-haired woman leaned out the door to wave. The man was beaming, and he raised the woman's left hand in the air and pointed at it as the car drove by.

“Who's that? Is that Aunt Aida?” Nell asked.

“No,” Stevie said, smiling broadly. “I can hardly believe it, but that's Aida's stepson, Henry, and his friend Doreen.”

Suddenly the castle came into view, and Nell gasped. Even Jack was stunned—it was spectacular and strange, completely unexpected in the staid Connecticut countryside—it looked like it belonged in the Alps, in the Black Forest, some half-mad baron's fantasy of fairy-tale grandeur.

“There it is,” Stevie said proudly as they climbed out of the car. “And there's my aunt!”

A tall, elegant woman, dressed in a painting smock and jeans with the knees torn out, velvet slippers, and a gold lamé headband, strode from the small cottage beside the castle. She had a high, intelligent forehead and violet eyes made up with kohl and blue shadow. Although she was much taller than Stevie, the resemblance was striking. It was there in her eyes, her bearing, and her beauty.

“This is my aunt Aida Von Lichen,” Stevie said.

“You must be Jack,” she said. “And you must be Nell. Please, call me Aida. Will you join me for lunch?”

“We stopped at Paradise and ate already,” Stevie said, handing her the brown bag.

“Stevie brought you a lobster roll!” Nell said.

“She is the most darling, thoughtful niece an aunt could have,” Aida said. “Let me just put this in the refrigerator, for later.”

“Aunt Aida—what was that sparkling on Doreen's ring finger?” Stevie asked when the older woman emerged from her door.

“It's a miracle—that's what it was! Henry asked her to marry him, and she accepted. They're affianced!” Aida said in an imperious but affectionate way as her eyes filled with tears. She spoke in exactly the tones Jack would expect of a woman who owned a castle, but he was taken by her obvious emotion and love.

“I saw him pointing at her hand,” Stevie said.

“Yes . . . I gave him my engagement ring to give her.”

“Oh, Aunt Aida,” Stevie said, hugging her. Jack watched the private moment between aunt and niece; he remembered what Stevie had said about her uncle's ghost haunting this castle, and had a sense that Aida's ring was precious beyond its mortal worth.

Aida steadied herself against Stevie, and then pushed back. Her eye makeup had smudged. Stevie wiped it from her cheek. Jack felt a stab, thinking about their lifelong relationship, thinking of Maddie and Nell. Aida nodded that she was fine, and she laughed lightly.

“Jack and Nell, you must think I'm a crazy old lady. Let me explain to you . . . Henry is my stepson, just retired from the U.S. Navy. I adore him, beyond all reason, exactly as if he were my own son. He is a brilliant officer and gentleman, but, sadly, has been a tad moronic in the ways of love. He had this wonderful relationship with a dear, dear woman—Doreen—and he let it go . . .”

“How?” Nell asked.

“Well, by always sailing away. That's what sailors do. They make port, stay as long as they stay, and then sail away. Henry expected Doreen to always be there, waiting for him. And she was . . . until he retired. And he expected to just waltz right into Newport and be taken in. He wasn't planning to marry her, mind you. He just wanted to come and go as he pleased.”

Jack listened. Aida's words were hitting him in a completely unexpected way. Suddenly he saw his passport and the air tickets and the brochures about the corporate rooms-to-let in Inverness, the plaids and bagpipes of Scotland. He was running away, of course. From the pain of the past, but also from what he'd started to feel about Stevie. He was exactly like Henry.

“She gave him the boot,” Aida continued. “And I completely applauded her for it. Now, marriage isn't the be-all and end-all for everyone. It is far from a panacea. But once you know . . . as I believe Henry knew about Doreen a good ten port-calls ago . . . you owe it to yourself and your beloved to make it legal.”

“It's the knowing when, and when not, that can trip a person up,” Stevie said in a low voice, and when Jack looked over, he could see that her lively, beautiful eyes had turned faraway and tragic.

“Lulu!” Henry called, lumbering up the hill holding hands with Doreen. There were hugs and congratulations all around, and Stevie admired the ring, and then Jack and Nell introduced themselves.

“The famous Nell,” Henry said.

“I'm famous?” she asked, beaming.

“Absolutely. Stevie holds you in the highest esteem. You and your father.” He met Jack's eyes, and Jack saw a flash there—a challenge, as if some sort of gauntlet had just been thrown down.

“She told you about me?” Nell asked, delighted.

“Oh, my,” Aida said. “She talked and talked about you. She loved that you were brave enough to climb her hill and walk right past that
awful
sign she has. . . .”

“Please Go Away!” Nell giggled.

“Precisely,” Henry said. “That's a sign that needs to find a home in a nice trash heap.”

Jack watched his daughter interact with these people she had never met before—she was so open and happy, thirsty for their affection. It was all because of Stevie. Somehow Nell had adopted her as her own—like a stand-in aunt, her mother's former best friend. He felt a lump in his throat. He'd forgotten what it felt like to have extended family. His own parents and aunts and uncles were dead; all he had left was Madeleine.

Henry and Doreen had errands to run—they were going to see the priest at St. Mary's in Newport about a date for their wedding. Aida started toward the castle, leading Stevie and her visitors. Stevie and Nell were holding hands, and Jack was just behind them, when suddenly Henry called out.

“Hey, Stevie,” he said.

She turned around.

“Luocious is no more.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because the
Odyssey
doesn't need another character. And because Stevie knows what she's doing. I can tell. Press on regardless, okay?”

Stevie stood rooted to the ground. Something about her bearing and posture made Jack want to wrap her in a hug—she looked as if she needed shoring up. But then a wide smile overtook her face, and she nodded and waved at her stepcousin, who waved back.

Jack didn't know what it meant, that exchange that had just passed between them, but he knew one thing—Stevie and Henry were each other's family, however attenuated, and they cared about each other's next step in life. He thought of Maddie and felt a little more hollow than before.

They stood at the door to the castle. A blast of cool, musty air greeted them. Jack's heart was pounding as he peered into the darkness. As an engineer, he was excited about the possibilities. Nell shivered, grabbed his hand and Stevie's. They all walked in together, Jack's pulse going a mile a minute.

All he could think was,
I've got to get out of going to Scotland
.

NELL HELD
her father's and Stevie's hands, thrilled by the castle. She noticed all sorts of magical things. The walls were made of dark oak, carved with heads and faces. The floor was made of slate squares, and shields and words were etched in them. Aunt Aida pointed them out, saying they were the names of theaters where her husband had acted in plays.

“He made his name at the Royal Shakespeare Company,” she said. “Very early on, he was mentioned alongside Gielgud. He played at Covent Garden, and his notices as Iago were brilliant. I'm talking rare air, Olivier territory. He played Prince Hal, and same thing. Then . . . well, life took hold and interested him more than theater. He was a bon vivant of the highest order, my Van. As he aged, he settled into Falstaff. It suited him, the darling.”

Nell didn't understand all the words, or what they meant, but she could tell from Aunt Aida's voice that she had loved Van a lot. And she could tell from the way Stevie leaned over to hug her that she knew that something about this visit was hard for her aunt.

They walked through the downstairs, their footsteps echoing. There was a great hall, with cobwebs hanging from a huge black chandelier and scary mildew on a big wooden table. Nell held tight to her father and Stevie. Her father was talking, in his steady business voice.

It was the one she heard him use on the phone, and when she visited him at the office. One of the ways she knew he didn't
really
like Francesca was the fact that he used it with her. He never really dropped it when she was around.

Her father never used that voice with Nell. He had used it with her mother only once, just before she'd gone away. And he didn't use it with Stevie. Even when he was mad that day Nell had gotten so upset about Aunt Maddie at Stevie's house, her father hadn't used his business voice. He had used his upset Daddy voice, which he usually only used with family—Aunt Maddie, for example.

He was saying something about donating the land and castle, a directed gift, a tax shelter . . . whole bunches of stuff Nell didn't get. But she could tell from looking at Stevie and Aunt Aida that they were interested, even happy. Her father took out a notepad and measuring tape, began making notations. He measured the thickness of walls, the height of ceilings.

Aunt Aida began pointing out things like dry rot and termite holes, and her father took out his penknife and dug into the wood along the floor a little. He said something about having an inspection to make sure, but not seeing any insects or eggs. Aunt Aida seemed relieved.

They entered a small door in the wall and found themselves in a darkened circular stairway. It reminded Nell of a prison. The only light came from small stained-glass windows, so Aunt Aida pulled a flashlight from her smock pocket to illuminate their way. Nell felt afraid because she had to let go of the adults' hands, but she was right between them as they climbed, so she knew it would be okay.

Stevie was saying something about a “nature center,” and Aunt Aida said, “One hundred and sixty-four acres would make a wonderful wildlife refuge,” and her dad said, “This castle is incredible, and it should be preserved just as it is,” and Aunt Aida actually let out a cry and said, “Thank you for seeing it that way! The developers all want to gussy it up with media centers and hot tubs!”

When they had climbed four tall stories to the very top, it was like stepping out of jail into a garden of sunshine. The tower overlooked the entire valley, straight down to the silver sea. Moss and weeds grew from the cracks in the stones. Wildflower seeds must have blown up here, because flowers were growing out of the mortar, waving in the summer wind.

Nell blinked into the bright sunlight, staring over the treetops. Birds hopped from branch to branch. She thought of Stevie's story about the pine barrens and Old Oaks, about the deer and rabbits and songbirds and owls. She felt the mysterious blessing of having stepped straight into a real-life fairy tale. She could almost believe that a white stag, or unicorn, would come bounding out of the forest before her very eyes.

The woods went on forever. Her father was talking calmly, but excitedly, about preserving them and the castle. Aunt Aida was asking questions a mile a minute: what should she do, who should she talk to, what papers should she sign?

Stevie stepped away from the adults, to crouch down beside Nell. Together they looked at the thick pine woods, at the tall and ancient oaks. They looked at the vine of red flowers that grew out of the castle stones, trailing all the way up to the parapet above. As they watched, two tiny emerald green hummingbirds hovered in midair, drinking nectar from the tubular blossoms.