Here With Me

Here with Me

By Megan Nugen Isbell

©2013

Cover art by
Tarin Dorcy

For Katie

Here’s to bellies full of pumpkin donuts and wild

imaginations on long drives from Maine to New Hampshire.

Chapter One

Mallory Leyton finished lacing up her sneakers and stepped outside onto the porch of her house.  The screen door, which was older than she was, slammed loudly behind her, causing her to jump and she made a mental note to tighten the screws when she got home.  Looking around at the lawn, she noticed it was coming alive after a long winter and a chilly spring.  The tulip and daffodil bulbs had sprung out of the ground, but remained tightly closed on this cool Maine morning.  Although it was mid-May, Mother Nature hadn’t yet committed to summer and as she prepared for her morning jog, a slight breeze brushed across her skin, sending goose bumps down her arms.  She rubbed her hands vigorously over them, trying to warm them away.  Turning around briefly, she debated whether or not to run back inside and grab a fleece, but quickly decided against it, knowing she would warm up as soon as she started running. 

After pushing
play on her iPod, the music came blaring through the earphones and she quickly tied up her dark auburn hair into a sloppy pony tail.  With one more stretch, she was ready to go.

She jogged quickly
down the stone walkway that cut through the front yard and began making her way through the neighborhood she had lived in her whole life.  The cracked asphalt and small houses with faded siding weren’t synonymous with the picturesque beaches and opulent homes Kennebunkport was known for, but it was the Kennebunkport she had grown up in.  Her neighborhood was quaint and safe, but would definitely never be featured on a postcard of one of Maine’s most well-known and visited towns.

The neighborhood was tucked away in the woods behind the tourist shops and giant homes of Ocean Avenue, but she quickly made her way out of the maze of houses and into the windi
ng streets of town.  They were quiet for now, but in a few hours it would change with all of the early summer visitors clambering in and out of the stores buying salt water taffy, homemade fudge and clam chowder. 

As she continued to run, the shops whizzing past her, her heart started pounding and the music willed her up a steep hill, past the spot where a horse and buggy were being prepared for a day of tours.  As she reached the top, the gray waters of the North Atlantic took over the horizon. The morning sun shone so brightly across the waters it looked like glass, and the reflection off the water caused her to squint.  On her left, the sprawling beachfront homes Kennebunkport was known for, dominated the landscape and she couldn’t help but wonder what the people inside were doing.  Her imagination flickered with images of them lying around in large, fluffy beds while servants prepared their breakfast. 

She had only ever been in one of those big houses: the gray shingled one with large, white paned windows and a perfectly manicured lawn.  The house belonged to Cole Hollins.  They’d been friends since she was fourteen, when his family had moved to Kennebunkport from New York after his father had sold his share of a publishing company.  Their relationship had been complicated to say the least, but he had always been a good friend.  He had been away at law school and she hadn’t seen him since he’d been home for Spring Break.

After passing Cole’s, her attention turned away from the big houses and focused back on her run, making a right onto a path that led down to the beach.  Her feet dug into the soft gray sand, causing her calves to burn, but she worked through it, knowing she would only be doing it for the next quarter mile until she returned to the ease of the pavement on Ocean Avenue. 

The sound of the music drowned everything out as she pushed through the sand.  Her focus was on the horizon when she suddenly felt a weight on her back and began tumbling to the ground.  She tried to steady herself, but couldn’t and fell face first into the sand.  She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure, before rolling over to see a large, hairy sheepdog above her.  Its long tongue hung out of its mouth as if it was smiling.

“Are you okay?” a deep voice said. 

Looking up, she saw someone standing above her.  The brightness of the sun kept her from seeing him clearly, but when he took a step to the side and blocked the sun, she was able to get a better look at him.  He was tall, at least a half a foot taller than she was, and he was trying to catch his breath.  He was lean, yet it was obvious through his gray t-shirt and black jogging shorts that he was strong.  His dark brown hair was thick and the sunlight was casting copper highlights off it.  It was short on the bottom, but longer and tousled on top.  His sideburns were neatly trimmed, but some of his thick hair was hanging over the tops of his ears.  He was clean shaven and his tan skin looked soft.  Noticing a small scar above his left eyebrow, she wondered how he got it. 

“Is this your dog?” Mallory asked as she wiped sand from her face.  The stranger reached his hand out and she took it, pulling herself up as she continued to dust the sand from her clothes while he took the dog’s leash.

“No,” he answered. “I was jogging when I saw him get away from his owner.  I don’t think I would’ve caught him if you hadn’t stopped him.”  He was trying not to laugh and she knew she must’ve looked ridiculous being tackled by the huge dog.

“Glad I could help.” 

“Oh, thank goodness you caught him!” a soft, raspy voice interrupted.

Mallory looked over his shoulder
and saw an old, frail woman, who couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, approaching them.  The sun hat she was wearing made it impossible to see her face and the old woman struggled up the incline of the beach.  The stranger reached his free hand out and helped her to his side. 

“Thank you both so much for your help.  Some seagulls spooked him and he just took off.  I never would have
caught him on my own,” the woman said gratefully.

“You’re welcome,” he answered. “Do you need any help getting him home?”

“No.  We’re heading straight back and he’ll be lucky if we go out tomorrow,” she said, looking down sternly at the sheepdog and shaking her finger at the animal, who just stared up at its owner wondering what all the commotion was about. 

The old woman smiled again before gently tugging the leash and leading the dog down the beach.  They stood quietly, watching until the woman and the dog were out of earshot.

“Well, I guess we’ve done our good deed for the day,” Mallory finally said.

“Yeah, I guess so.  Thanks for your help.”

“No problem,” she replied while fiddling with her earphones.

“Are you sure you’re okay?  That was quite a tumble.”

“Yes, I’m fine.  Nothing’s bruised but my ego,” she said and they both laughed.  

“I should get going then,” he said, gesturing towards the beach.

“Yeah, me too.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment, neither of them speaking until he turned back towards his jogging path.  He raised his hand in a slight wave and then began jogging into the horizon.  Mallory watched
the path of footprints he left behind as she secured her earphones again.  When the music came streaming through, she continued with her run.

****

Her shirt was drenched when she finally made her way back home and she was grateful she hadn’t brought the warm fleece.  The screen door slammed again as she walked into the house and went directly to the basement for a screwdriver, sighing deeply as she worked on the door.  There always seemed to be something that needed to be done and she always seemed to be the one to do it.  As she worked, her moment of self-pity was a fleeting one and she quickly finished the repair. 

Her father had been out of the picture since she was two
and her mother’s quirkiness and
I’ll get to it later
attitude, meant if Mallory didn’t do it, it wouldn’t get done.  She tried not to resent her mom though.  It was easier to be bitter in the past, but that had all changed after her mother had been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis two years before.  Now it wasn’t just her nonchalant attitude that kept her from doing things, but her physical limitations as well.  There were good days and bad days, but her illness had definitely changed her entire family’s life.  It had been the reason Mallory had come back to Kennebunkport after graduating from the University of Maine with her nursing degree.  She had thought of taking a job at a hospital in a big city like Boston or New York after graduation, and even considered working for the Peace Corp or Doctors Without Borders, but after the news broke of her mother’s health, she knew she needed to come home. She tried not to allow herself to regret it though.  She loved Maine and she was happy with her job in the emergency room.  She always believed she wanted to go out and explore the world, but told herself she was content and happy and her heart belonged to the beaches of Maine. 

With o
ne last twist of the screwdriver, she tested the screen door, pushing it open and watching as it slowly bounced back, bobbing a few times before gently coming to a close with a soft click. 

“I was going to get that,” her mother’s voice said from behind her.

Mallory turned around and saw her standing in the hallway, ready for her shift at the Maine Diner in the nearby town of Wells.  As Mallory looked over the pair of khaki pants and blue t-shirt, she was relieved to see her mother was standing on her own without the cane she sometimes used.

“Sure you were,” Mallory laughed as she set the screwdriver down.

“I was.”

“You’re off to work then?”

“Yeah.  I’ll be home this afternoon,” she said, picking up her purse.

“Are you feeling up to it?”

“Yes.  I feel great.  I wish you wouldn’t worry so much.  I’m the mother, remember?”

“I just want to make sure you don’t overdo it.  You don’t have to work, Mom, you know that.”

“I’m fine,” her mother said, walking over and patting her softly on the cheek. “And I want to work.  When does your shift start?”

“In a couple of hours.”

“Don’t forget, we’re meeting your grandmother at Mabel’s tonight for dinner,” she reminded.

“I won’t forget.  How could I?  We’ve been going there every Sunday for forever.”

“No need for the sarcasm.  I’ll see you tonight,” her mother said, grabbing her purse and keys and limping out of the house. 

Leaving the screwdriver on the end table,
Mallory decided to get ready for the day.  The warm shower felt good after her run.  When she was done, she dried her hair and pulled it back into a ponytail before applying some make-up and slipping on a pair of purple scrubs. 

Walking down to the
kitchen, she was just about to pour herself a bowl of cereal when she heard a light knock on the screen door she had just fixed.  Setting the cereal box down, she walked into the living room immediately recognizing the figure standing behind the distortion of the screen.

“Cole!” she exclaimed, opening the door.  He stepped inside and wrapped his arms ar
ound her. “When did you get home?”

“Last night,” he said, pulling back and holding her at arm’s length.

“I jogged by your house this morning.  I would’ve stopped in if I’d known you were home.”

“I was probably still asleep.  I don’t know how you manage to get up and exercise so early,” he said, shaking his head.
             

“Well, some of us have to work,” she chided.

“I’ve missed you, but I haven’t missed your spoiled brat born with a silver spoon in my mouth cracks,” he said, letting her arms go so they fell limply to her sides.

“Hey, I couldn’t resist.  I was just g
etting myself some cereal.  You want some?’

“Sure,” he said, following her back into the kitchen
where she poured them each a bowl.

“So, how long are you home for?” she asked between mouthfuls as they sat at the small, round table near the backdoor. 

“I’m not sure. 
Probably the whole summer.”

“What?
  No trip to Europe?”

“You’re so funny, Mallory,” he said sarcastically. “But no.  No trip this summer.  I just thought I’d hang around here and spend some time with you.”

Mallory felt her eyes drop and she set her spoon down.  It was always coming down to this.  Her relationship with Cole had always been complicated.  She thought he was cute when she’d first met him in eighth grade when he was still attending public school with his sandy blond hair and blue eyes.  She always though he looked more fitted to the beaches of California than Maine.  He hadn’t changed much in the ten years she’d known him.  He still had the same great hair and eyes, but he was taller now and had filled out, but he still had the same boyish grin and persistence.  They had developed a deep friendship during high school, even though Cole had attended a private school.  They had remained close as a result of the sailing classes they attended and through Cole’s determination it had eventually turned into something else.  They had dated for a while during their senior year and Mallory knew she should be thrilled to be dating someone like Cole, but no matter how hard she tried, she just never felt the way about Cole the way he felt about her.  They came from two totally different worlds and they could never figure out how to make it work, even though Cole didn’t see it that way.  She knew she had dated him because she thought she owed it to both of them to see if their friendship could ever be anything more.  When she broke it off with him shortly before graduation, they had remained friends, but he’d never given up.  He was always making insinuations and dropping hints and she was always rejecting him.