Jess back, the real Jess; and babysitting is a wonderful idea—she wishes she had thought of it herself.
She turns as she hears the crunch of gravel outside, and sees Michael walking across the driveway to the car. She wants to run out and talk to him, but he has been so distant these past couple of days that she now feels awkward about seeing him. She knows that something must have happened, something has changed.
Last night she sidled up to him in the kitchen, and asked him, in a low voice so no one else could hear, whether he was coming to her room later.
“I’m not feeling so good,” he had replied, barely able to meet her eyes. “Not tonight, I think.” He had quickly looked away, moved off, busied himself somewhere else, while all the disappointments of her youth, those teenage letdowns, the number of times she had had her heart broken, came flooding back as she stood there trying to understand what could possibly have changed.
It has been an extraordinary afternoon for Bee. She had driven her father into town, stopping along the way as he pointed out sights, showed her where he used to play as a child, told her stories he hadn’t thought about for years.
They went to the museum, where he showed Bee her ancestors and a painting of her grandmother Lydia, who looked exactly like Bee. He told her everything he could remember about his childhood. He barely took a breath, there seemed to be so much to say. The more he talked, the more memories came flooding back, Bee eagerly drinking them in, asking for more.
The cranberry flats, the Sankaty lighthouse, his school, their church.
Everett was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. He saw a number of people he hadn’t seen for almost forty years, but he knew them, and he also knew there was a very good chance of them dropping down dead from a heart attack were he to remove his hat and glasses, allow them to see his true identity.
But he wanted to. Oh how he wanted to. Arthur Worth. Goodness, how old he has got, his hair now entirely white, his face leathery from the sun, the same twinkling blue eyes. Sally McLean. Remember how beautiful she had been? They had played together in kindergarten, he had loved her from afar throughout elementary school. Now she is large and dowdy, barely recognizable were it not for her wonderful voice which, judging from the brief conversation he overheard her having in a store, hasn’t changed at all.
“You didn’t have a crush on her!” Bee said in delight as they left the store. “No!”
“I did,” he confessed. “She was my first love, and she was a tiny slip of a thing, so beautiful. Long, silvery blond hair and big green eyes. We all loved her, every last one of us.”
“Don’t you want to talk to her?” Bee asked.
“I do,” he said. “I want to talk to all of them. Arthur Worth was my best friend for years. We were roommates at school. He taught me how to fish. I have spent my life missing him, but I need to be re-introduced slowly, if at all. I suspect people will find out, eventually, however hard we try to keep it a secret, for Nantucket is not known for being good at secrets. I imagine most will have a similar reaction to Nan’s. They will hate me for it and they will be furious.”
“Even people who loved you?”
“Nan loved me once upon a time,” he said slowly. “It doesn’t seem to mean anything now.”
They get home and the girls are in heaven. Jess has played with them, given them piggyback rides for hours, has even fed them.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I can’t cook so I gave them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for dinner.”
“That’s okay.” Bee smiles. “It’s entirely my fault. I had no idea we’d be gone for such a long time. How was it? Were they good?”
“They were amazing.” Jess beams.
“Girls? Do you want Jess to come back tomorrow?”
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” they chorus, dancing around Jess and flinging their arms around her legs as she giggles. “We love Jess!”
“Dad, will you stay here while I drive Jess home?”
“Of course,” he says with a smile, and Bee and Jess head out to the car.
Michael sits at the bar in the Tap Room, nursing a beer and watching the television numbly. He knows he ought to say something to Daff, tell her what