Instead of responding, he turned his head, smiled and said, “We have to get a boat.”
It was the same thing Ben had said to me every single morning of the beach trip, as we woke, the sun bathing wood-paneled walls, its shadow stretching and spreading like a dog after a nap. I turned over and kissed the rippled chest of my—unbelievably—husband.
He was so good-looking, so romantic, so unnaturally calm that I couldn’t be ruffled by his only flaw, which is a flaw pretty much anyone would possess: A week with my extended family in my grandparents’ oceanfront Atlantic Beach, North Carolina, home is too much for the man to take. Since Lovey, headstrong as ever, had insisted on veering into the storm, we decided we would all go. Mom, Dad, Lovey, D-daddy, Ben, and Mom’s four sisters. We had visions of giggling over Pictionary in the candlelight. But, as so often happens, the storm passed right over with little fanfare, and we were left with a gloriously beautiful week of lounging.
I kissed Ben and said, “Take that gig you were offered in Raleigh. Nothing is keeping you here.”
He smiled, revealing the dimples that lured me to him in the first place. “Not true.Youare keeping me here. I’m afraid if I leave you hanging around the Shoals Club in that bikini one of the frat-boy bartenders will pick you up.” He raised his eyebrows and pulled me in for a kiss that meant he had more than just kissing on his mind.
“So, TL,” Ben said, using the “true love” initials that he had given to me the night we met. “Where do we stand on that boat?”
I swept my hair into a ponytail, my feet thudding on the hardwood floor, gritty with sand. I laughed, gave my husband a quick kiss and said, “Get a little rest. You deserve it.”
I trotted down the bare hardwood steps. I had been coming to this house for so long that, in my mind, I could already see D-daddy sitting in his chair at the head of the table, buttering his toast. It must have been from the early morning that my brain was foggy because, when I got to the landing, where I could see the dining table below, his wheelchair pulled to the end, a uniformed nurse feeding him his cereal and wiping the milk drips with a bib, my breath caught in my throat.
Somehow, in the relaxation of vacation, I had forgotten about the reality of the present.
“Hi, Annie,” my aunt Louise practically sang. She was sipping hot tea, sitting in a cane-back dining chair, her feet propped on a ladder-back one. The mismatched seats, collected from antique auctions over the decades, were one of my favorite things about the house. Louise’s tan skin looked even darker against the raw wood paneling of the wall behind her. She was already in her bikini with a crocheted cover-up over top and, even from a distance, you could tell her body was perfectly sculpted underneath. “It’s just because I never had babies,” Louise would say, brushing aside the fact that, at fifty-three, she could still pull off the look better than most teenagers. She was a yoga instructor through and through, from her body to her soothing voice to her calm demeanor. It was amazing how different five sisters could be.
“Where’s your suit?” she asked, glancing me up and down in myflannel pajamas with the multicolored polka dots. It was not my normal nighttime attire but perfect for the beach. In direct contrast to most older people, Lovey cranked the AC to sixty-five and nearly froze us all to death.
“I just wanted to run down and see what everyone was up to before I changed.”
Lovey strolled in, mug in hand, looking so much like she had since I was a child that I forgot she was in her late eighties, not the same sixty-year-old woman she had been when I started coming here. I descended those final two stairs and leaned down to kiss Lovey on the cheek. Telescoping out from underneath her bathing suit cover-up were the legs that she said self-tanner made young again. I silently wished for her genes, free from the puckered, rippled skin of old age, as she said, “Get dressed, darling. We’re going to the club. If we don’t get there early, we’ll never get an umbrella on the beach.”
I kissed D-daddy on the cheek, the skin that was once taut on his robust, healthy frame now sagging and tired. I ignored the glassy look in his eyes, the thought that maybe he didn’t know who I was. “Thanks so much for having us, D-daddy,” I said brightly. “We’re having the best time!”
“You’re welcome,” he said, nodding, still not making eye contact with me.
Forty minutes later, Ben in tow, we had managed to get the entire crew out to the beach. Ben was laughing as Lovey said, “Sally, he may be a millionaire now, but I’m still glad you didn’t marry him. I never trusted that boy.”
My aunt Sally, her blond hair held back with bobby pins, raised the eyebrows above her bright blue eyes at me and said, “Momma, I am certainly glad Doug isn’t here to hear you say that.”
“Why shouldn’t I?” Lovey asked, her voice getting high and indignant, showing that spark that was my favorite thing about her. “I would think your husband would be happy to know that I’m glad you married him instead of Kyle Jenkins.”
“Hey,” I said. “Why isn’t Doug here?” Sally was the breadwinner of her family and Doug hadn’t worked in decades, so I knew his job wasn’t the reason he couldn’t come down for the week.
“Oh,” she said. “Well, he just had some things to get done. It was kind of last minute after all.”
“Ohhhh,” Mom chimed in. “Didn’t want to be here with all of us?”
“What?” Dad asked, feigning confusion. “I can’t imagine why this wouldn’t be Doug’s dream vacation.”
I smiled at my dad, even though he couldn’t see me with his shirt over his face, his olive skin already darker from a couple of hours in the sun. He was holding my mom’s hand, and they were as relaxed as I had seen them in months. Mom usually had a phone and an iPad attached to her, ready to attend to municipal business at a moment’s notice. From pampered housewife to full-time city runner must have been a serious leap. But, as anyone who knew her could plainly see, this role was made for her.
Ben patted my hand, and I smiled at him, almost dozing underneath the huge umbrella that now ensconced most of my family.
“Where is that cute waiter?” Lovey said, looking around for anyone in khaki shorts and a white polo with the club’s red insignia.
“You don’t need one of them, Lovey,” Ben said. “You’ve got me now.” He winked at her, squeezed my knee and said, “Anyone want anything?”
I swung my legs over the side of the blue lounge chair and said, “I’ll come with you.”
“Waters all around,” Lovey said. “Forty-six minutes until it’s time for a little noon cocktail.”
Ben and I held hands walking up the sand and then leaned against the weathered teak outdoor bar. He said, looking around, “Doesn’t this place sort of remind you ofDirty Dancing?”
I shrugged. The morning tennis, afternoon swims and late-night band parties did seem a little like a throwback, something that surely didn’t exist in reality anymore. But here it was, parents moving their kids to the beach for the summer for surf lessons and sea turtle camp, forging friendships that would last a lifetime. Maybe it was because it was how I grew up, but it all seemed a little enchanted to me. Down here, even as a kid, there was a sense of freedom and safety that was so hard to find in a world that seemed to be becoming scarier and less predictable by the minute.
