hopelessness he was feeling might be written there. Was it obvious to his friends that after tonight he had little real interest in what lay ahead? Probably Lincoln and Mickey were questioning Jacy right now, wanting to know if something “funny” had happened out at Gay Head. She’d probably tell them that he was just down in the dumps, that of the four of them he was the only one at loose ends. Lincoln was heading west with Anita. Mickey would be reporting for boot camp. She herself was getting married. Yes, Teddy was thinking about divinity school after his internship at the Globe, but only because he couldn’t think of what else to do. Ever the generalist, his major, weeks after graduation, remained undecided.
There was also the possibility that, despite promising not to, she was telling them everything. She wouldn’t do it to hurt him, he knew, but rather because they were all friends who, if they knew, maybe could help. They couldn’t, of course. Nobody could.
By the time he returned to the deck—how long had he been gone?—the temperature had dropped and Lincoln had ducked inside for sweaters and sweatshirts. They paid Teddy no special attention, which he assumed meant Jacy had kept her promise. The music had stopped playing, but she and Mickey were slow dancing in the middle of the deck. “Chances are,” Mickey crooned, “ ’cause I wear a silly grin, the moment you come into view. Chances are you think that I’m in love with you.”
“Fine,” Lincoln chuckled good-naturedly. “Have fun at my expense.”
Jacy evidently took this as permission to join in. “Just because,” she warbled drunkenly, “my composure sort of slips the moment that your lips meet mine. Chances are you think my heart’s your valentine.”
As Teddy passed by, Jacy grabbed him by the elbow, determined, despite his protests that he didn’t know the words, that he would sing along with them, leaving Lincoln with little choice but to join in as well. How many verses did they sing? Teddy lost track, but at some point it occurred to him that Mickey no longer was making fun of Johnny Mathis. Indeed, he was singing the song as if he’d penned the schmaltzy lyrics himself and couldn’t be prouder of them. As they all grew more confident of the lyrics, they turned, arm in arm, and serenaded the night itself, the moonlight rippling on the distant ocean. They sang as if they were still all for one and one for all and would be so forever. To his astonishment, Teddy felt his own heavy burden begin to lift, at least a little. Maybe, he thought, if they just sang loud enough, everything would be okay after all. Mickey would somehow return from Vietnam unharmed. Lincoln’s service would not be required. Jacy would marry her fiancé or she wouldn’t, but she would remain always their fourth Musketeer. And Teddy himself? For no good reason, he suddenly felt hopeful. Because there was magic in the world. Just that afternoon a girl he’d been in love with throughout college had chosen him. Him. And what was that if not magic? Why abandon hope in the face of possibility?
There on the deck, pleasantly drunk, they seemed to have found something they each could agree on: that chances were their chances were…awfully good. Whether the sentiment was true or—like the world they were taking possession of—a bright, shining lie seemed, right then, beside the point.
* * *
—
THE NEXT MORNING the sun was barely up when Teddy, lying awake on the living room couch, heard Jacy stirring in her bedroom. When her door squeaked open and she emerged on tiptoe, fully dressed, her pack slung over her shoulder, he realized that she meant to slip away without saying goodbye. This was confirmed when she placed a note in the center of the dining room table where they couldn’t fail to see it.
Only when the front door closed behind her did he stand and go over to the window to watch her make her way up the gravel drive. How brave she looked under her backpack. How beautiful.
Poor girl. She’d cried her heart out yesterday when he talked about the afternoon in the gym when he’d gone up for that rebound and Nelson, his burly teammate, had undercut him. How his tailbone had been the first thing to hit the hardwood court, the impact paralyzing him so completely that at first he’d felt no pain, only shock. How he’d been