The Bay At Midnight Part 28

"No, thanks," I said. Next door, the boys climbed out of the pool and ran into the house, and I was relieved to be able to give up my self-imposed lifeguarding.

"You've got yourself labeled again, don't you?" Mr. Chapman said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean, you used to call yourself 'the Nancy Drew Girl,'" he said. "'The Adventure Girl.' Now you're 'the Scared Girl.' You don't have to stay that way, you know."

"He has a point," Ethan said.

It was strange the effect Mr. Chapman's few simple words had on me. You don't have to stay that way. You don't have to stay that way.

"Maybe I'll go," I said, not quite ready to commit to the possibility but suddenly ready to consider it.

Mr. Chapman left right after lunch, and Ethan and I stood in the front yard, watching him drive away.

"You ready for that boat ride?" Ethan asked, putting his arm around me.

I made a face that clearly said I don't think so. I don't think so.

"How did you feel when you were a kid and went out in your boat?" he asked.

I thought about it for a minute. "Free," I said. "Until that last night. That changed everything."

He used his arm to turn me around and we headed through his side yard toward the dock. "That was 1962," he said. "It's a new century now. Come on."

I let myself be led to the edge of the dock. Ethan began to untie the boat from the hooks on the bulkhead. I watched, remembering how my runabout's damp, fibrous rope used to feel in my fingers. Grandpop had taught me many different knots. I bet I still remembered them all.

Ethan was on the other side of the dock. "Go ahead and hop in," he said. "I'll be right in after you."

I looked down at the boat's camel-colored interior. It swayed slightly on the wake of a motorboat that had just pa.s.sed through the ca.n.a.l, and watching the seats move up and down made me light-headed. But I did it. I sat down on the bulkhead, caught the gunwale with my bare feet and slipped in. My heart was pounding as if I were standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon. I lowered myself quickly to the front pa.s.senger seat and clutched the side of the boat.

Ethan jumped into the boat with ease and took his seat behind the wheel. The smell of oil and gasoline mixed with the scent of the water. I used to like that smell. I breathed it in, wondering if I could learn to like it again.

"You okay?" Ethan smiled at me.

I nodded.

Putting the boat in Reverse, he backed into the ca.n.a.l, then took off in the direction of the river. I was quiet and anxious, one of my hands still holding on to the side of the boat as we approached the new-to me, anyway-Lovelandtown bridge. This bridge was higher than the old one and the pilings were much farther apart, so that we sailed beneath it with ease. We pa.s.sed houses that were unfamiliar to me, having been built or remodeled since the last time I'd traveled the length of the ca.n.a.l, and I welcomed that unfamiliarity. We exited the ca.n.a.l and sped into the open water of the Manasquan River. The hot, damp air whipped my hair around my face and a spray of water cooled my eyes, and I found that those sensations brought back not the night I lost my sister, but rather the hours upon hours of fun I'd had in my little boat.

I studied Ethan's face as we cut across the surface of the water. In his profile, I could still see the boy who'd dissected crabs and kept eel guts in alcohol and lay on his stomach in the reeds, examining marine life in the shallows. Who could have guessed I would be here with him now, enjoying him, wanting him, loving loving him? him?

I swallowed hard, suddenly hoping that Ned would not not be found responsible for Isabel's murder after all. It was going to hurt Ethan far too much. be found responsible for Isabel's murder after all. It was going to hurt Ethan far too much.

He glanced over at me and smiled.

"You're lovin' this, aren't you," he said. It was not a question.

I moved closer to him, putting my arm across the back of the seat.

"I'm lovin' you, you," I said into his ear, and I leaned my head against his shoulder.

CHAPTER 34.

Julie.

Two nights later, my mother, sister, Ethan and I gathered at my house for a barbecue, the main purpose of which was to meet Tanner Stroh. I'd told everyone to arrive at six. It was now six thirty-five, and Shannon and the guest of honor had not yet arrived. I felt wound up as the minutes ticked by. If someone touched me in the wrong spot, I was going to unravel.

I carried the bowl of potato salad from the kitchen out to the porch. My mother sat at the head of the long, gla.s.s-topped table, slicing a few of the beautiful Jersey tomatoes she'd plucked from her garden and arranging them on a platter next to lettuce leaves and pickle slices. Outside on the patio, Ethan, who was wearing a blue-and-white-striped ap.r.o.n he'd brought with him, turned chicken and burgers on the grill. Lucy stood near him, nursing a gla.s.s of beer and chatting. I could tell she liked him-she'd given me a barely concealed thumps-up sign the moment he walked in the door-and I was glad.

My mother had greeted Ethan warmly in spite of the fact that I knew she had not wanted me to nurture a relations.h.i.+p with him. She seemed her usual feisty self tonight, which relieved me after the somber way she'd reacted to the news of Ned's letter the other day.

"Do you think it's too warm to eat outside?" I asked her now. It had seemed cooler earlier, but I was probably in the midst of a hot flash.

"It's fine." She transferred the last tomato slice to the platter and set the knife on the cutting board. "What time did you tell Shannon to come?" she asked.

"Six," I said, lifting the cutting board and knife from the table.

"This young man of hers is going to make a poor impression, strolling in here late." She took a sip of beer from the gla.s.s in front of her. She always said she liked to drink a cold beer about once a year, and apparently tonight was the night. "I can't wait to grill him," she said. She actually rubbed her hands together, as if she was talking about devouring some choice morsel of food, and I had to laugh.

"Well, let's try not to be too obvious about it," I said over my shoulder as I carried the cutting board into the house.

I was back on the porch with the hamburger buns when I heard a couple of car doors slam out on the street.

"Maybe that's them now," I said, placing the plate of buns on the table.

I heard voices in the side yard, and then Shannon appeared on the patio holding the hand of a tall, slender man. Mom and I walked outside to greet them. Tanner Stroh looked freshly showered with short, neatly cut dark hair. He wore khaki Dockers and a short-sleeved Hawaiian s.h.i.+rt in a muted blue pattern. There was a preppy look about him that I knew would be a turnoff to Lucy but which offered me some small bit of rea.s.surance.

He held his hand toward me. "Hi, Mrs. Sellers," he said. "I'm so glad to meet you. I'm sorry we're late."

"Not a problem," I said, shaking his hand. "I'm glad to meet you, too."

Until that moment, I hadn't realized that I'd been expecting him to have numerous body piercings, baggy pants and long greasy hair. He did not not look like the artsy sort of guy Shannon was usually drawn to, but he was an attractive man nonetheless. Way too old for her, though. His hair was actually beginning to recede and I could see creases at the corners of his eyes. look like the artsy sort of guy Shannon was usually drawn to, but he was an attractive man nonetheless. Way too old for her, though. His hair was actually beginning to recede and I could see creases at the corners of his eyes.

Introductions were made all around, and I caught Shannon giving Ethan the same sort of scrutiny that I was giving Tanner, a fact which, I had to admit, made me smile. Everyone shook hands and uttered greetings in a respectful interchange. Tanner was cordial and courteous, and I thought of Eddie Haskell, the kid on Leave it to Beaver Leave it to Beaver who hid his sociopathic tendencies behind impeccable manners. who hid his sociopathic tendencies behind impeccable manners.

The food was ready. Ethan brought the platter of burgers and grilled chicken onto the porch and Lucy and I took drink orders. Tanner wanted a beer; Shannon, lemonade. I would be sure to monitor Tanner's alcohol intake. I realized it would be more than three years until Shannon could legally join him in a drink. She hadn't even had her driver's license for a year yet.

Once we were all seated at the table on the porch, it was my mother who got right down to the nitty-gritty.

"So," she said, her attention squarely on Tanner. "How did you let this happen?"

Surprised, Tanner opened his mouth to speak, but Shannon rescued him. Even I I felt ready to rescue him. My mother could sometimes lack tact. felt ready to rescue him. My mother could sometimes lack tact.

"It was my fault, Nana," Shannon said. "I forgot a pill."

"It's not the best way to start out a future together, Mrs..." Tanner blanked on my mother's last name.

"Bauer," she said.

Tanner nodded. "Mrs. Bauer," he said. "But I love Shannon and we're going to do our best to have things work out."

"She's my only grandchild," my mother said, "so I'm going to hold you to that."

"I promise," Tanner said, looking uncomfortable for the first time since his arrival.

"Where are you from originally, Tanner?" Ethan tried to s.h.i.+ft the conversation to something neutral.

"Southern California," Tanner said. "My family's still there."

"How do they feel about..." I waved my hand through the air, encompa.s.sing both him and Shannon. "About everything," I said.

He hesitated. "They're not happy about it," he said, and I respected his honesty, "but they'll accept Shannon. They'll love her once they meet her."

Where would he and Shannon spend their vacations? I wondered. With his family or with hers? East Coast or West? Would I ever get to see my daughter?

"Shannon said you're working on your doctorate," Lucy prompted him.

"Yes." Tanner added a second slice of tomato to his burger. "It's sort of my own independent study program. Part history, part social science."

"Have you started your dissertation?" Lucy asked.

He nodded. "It's on the children of Holocaust survivors meeting the children of n.a.z.i perpetrators. I'm half German and half Jewish, so the subject had a natural fascination for me."

"Wow," Lucy said, with genuine interest. "How cool." She engaged him in one of the intellectual, academic discussions that she adored, and her enthusiasm was matched by Tanner's. Ethan added his own contribution; he'd recently seen something about the children of the n.a.z.is on the History Channel, and my mother talked about a Holocaust survivor who was a regular customer at McDonald's. Shannon piped in from time to time, showing that she knew something about the topic herself and that their relations.h.i.+p was not not just about s.e.x. Why, oh why, couldn't he be a decade younger or Shannon a decade older? I would have felt so much better about the entire situation. just about s.e.x. Why, oh why, couldn't he be a decade younger or Shannon a decade older? I would have felt so much better about the entire situation.

I seemed to be the only person at the table who could think of nothing to say about Tanner's dissertation. My mind was elsewhere, and when there was a long enough lull in the conversation, I spoke up.

"Tanner," I said, "I think Shannon really needs to stay here at least until the baby is delivered and she has her feet on the ground and gets into the routine of caring for-"

"Mother." Shannon nearly stabbed me with her eyes. "We've already discussed this." Shannon nearly stabbed me with her eyes. "We've already discussed this."

"I've got a doctor lined up for her, Mrs. Sellers," Tanner said, wiping his lips with his napkin. "I have some money put aside that will hold us until I'm out of school and teaching. We'll be okay. I know it's upsetting to you, and I was sort of upset, too, at first. I thought Shannon was a lot older when I met her. She looks older, she acts older. She's so intelligent and..." He looked at my daughter and smiled. "She's amazing."

Shannon smiled back, almost shyly. He was gaga over her, of that I was certain, but I didn't think he had a clue what he was getting himself into.

"Mom said your daughter got pregnant when she was my age, too," Shannon said to Ethan.

I winced, but Ethan seemed undaunted.

"She did," he said. "She was sixteen, and her baby was adopted by a wonderful couple who couldn't have kids."

"I don't think I could do that," Shannon said.

"Well, her situation was different." Ethan took a sip of his beer. "She didn't have a real relations.h.i.+p with the boy. She'd been out with him a couple of times and on this particular occasion, he forced himself on her."

"Date rape?" my mother asked, and I was surprised she even knew the term.

"Exactly," Ethan said. "Abby was afraid to tell us at first, but she did and we helped her press charges against the boy. He had to serve time and do some community service."

"At least we don't have that problem," Shannon said, for my benefit, I thought. See? See? she was saying. she was saying. Things could be worse. Things could be worse.

I liked what was happening. Not the topic of conversation, of course, but I liked the fact that we were sitting around like adults, talking. I liked that Shannon was, for the most part, not acting in an openly hostile way toward me. I knew now that I owed that to Lucy, that they'd been talking. I didn't know what Lucy had said to her, but I was grateful to her for saying it, whatever it was. I tried to look at Shannon in a new light, as an adult, but no matter how hard I tried, she still looked like a pregnant child to me.

The conversation continued through dessert, and only when we'd finished eating and everyone was helping me clear the table did I realize that my mother had grown very quiet. She hadn't said a word while we'd eaten our ice cream and cake.

I watched her as she stood at the counter, transferring the left-overs into plastic containers, and I leaned over to speak into her ear, "Are you okay, Mom?" I asked.

She nodded. "Beer makes me tired, though," she said. "I think I'll go home."

She'd walked the two blocks to my house. It was still fairly light out, but I didn't want her walking home alone if she wasn't feeling well. I studied her color, which was her usual healthy olive tone, pink-tinged by her time in her garden.

"Why don't you take a nap here and one of us will drive you home later?" I suggested.

"All right," she said, setting down the lid for the container she'd filled. I was surprised that she gave in to me without a fight.

"Bye, Nana!" Shannon, oblivious to the conversation, plowed between us to give her grandmother a hug. "We've got to go."

"Goodbye, darling," my mother said, hugging Shannon tightly and kissing her cheek.

We all said goodbye to the couple, Lucy the only one able to muster up a sincere hug for Tanner, and once they were gone, I turned to my mother again.

"You can use my room," I said. I was reminded of the other day when I'd told her about Ned's letter. She was behaving the same way now as she had then. "Do you want me to come with you?" I offered.

My mother didn't respond. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, shaking her head slowly back and forth. She was actually scaring me.

"Mom?" I said, with enough concern in my voice that Lucy and Ethan turned to look at us.

"n.o.body said one word tonight about Shannon and her cello," my mother said. There were tears in her eyes. "As long as that girl's been able to speak, all she's ever cared about was music. And tonight it was like that part of her didn't exist." She pointed toward the door through which Shannon and Tanner had made their exit. "That boy cares about himself and his own...his n.a.z.i children, or whatever they are," she said, waving a hand through the air. "I bet he's never even asked to hear her play."

Lucy tried to put an arm around her shoulders, but our mother brushed it away.

"I'm tired, Lucy," she said. "I'm going to take a nap. Then maybe later you could drive me home."

"Of course," Lucy said, dropping her arm to her side.

Ethan came to stand next to me, and we watched my mother disappear down the hallway.

"Whoa," Lucy said. "What's with her?"

I remembered Shannon as a little girl. She didn't want to listen to the funny little songs that other kids found entertaining. "I wanna hear YoMaMa!" she'd say, cracking Glen and me up.

"She's right," I said. "No one said a word."