“No.”
So there,says the arch of his brow. And while I don’t like his smugness, at least he looks better than he did moments before. I’m not about to have sex with him, but arguing about it is fine.
“So.” His stubbled chin is on his shoulder, which has bits of sand as well. “No sex?”
“No sex.”
Straightening, he shoves his hair back with a handful of fingers. “Then help me feel better about losing a beautiful tangerine cat whose owners are devastated. What’s that old Bobby Frost quote?”
Despite the irreverent nickname, I know who he means. I used to share Robert Frost with him, as I’ve done now with Joy. She isn’t into poetry yet. But she will be. She takes pop lyrics seriously, and aren’t they a form of poetry?
“In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on,”I quote.
“It goes on,” he repeats and, putting his dark head to Guy’s, scrubs the dog’s neck with both hands.
Quitting while I’m ahead, I cross back over the sand, wading where it is dry, toward the stairs. Short of it, though, I stop, drawn again to the stark difference between Jack’s side of the bluff and ours. While ours is crumbling down to the beach, his is intact. Because of the plantings he put in? Even my untutored eye can see that they are strategically placed and varied.
“The key is using plants with root systems that grow deep and wide, and that do it fast.” His voice comes from behind and is even. It isn’t smug, just a statement of fact.
“Did you do the planting?” I ask, not quite looking back. I’m well aware of him without the visual.
“Me and Mike Hartley. He owed me for helping his dog through an immune deficiency issue, so we did an in-kind swap.” Comingclose to my shoulder, he points at various spots where thick clumps of tall green blades rise from the slope. “That’s switchgrass. It’s the first thing you try, because its root system is made to order.” He gestures at other plants. “Goldenrod. Beach plum. Bayberry.”
I repeat them silently. Despite my mother’s aptitude, plants have never been my thing. Photography, yes. But the few times I’ve tried to grow herbs or houseplants or even get an avocado to sprout for Joy’s sake, I’ve bombed. “Anne says she’ll take care of this, but I’m thinking I can give her a nudge. Mike, huh?”
“I’ll help you plant.”
I laugh at that. “My dad nearly had a fit when I mentioned hiring the Hartleys. Think he’d feel better if I hired you?”
“Would he know?”
And isn’t that the question of the day? I drop a hand and, startled, snatch it back when it hits the dog’s head. Guy. Now that I know he is there, I let my fingertips graze his sandy fur and look up at Jack. I have to squint; the visor of my ball cap runs out when I tip my head back, which I do, he’s that close. Jack was always much taller than me. In spite of the different roads we’ve taken and the memories that keep us apart, I am still drawn to that. And yes, to his body. He has aged well. Call him too coarse, too tanned, too ripped. But there is something about his solidity that offers comfort.
“Mallory.”
My eyes fly up from his chest.
“No sex?”
“No sex.” I swallow. I should take a step away. But I do crave comfort. “I want to talk about my father. We walked back from town together. I’m not sure if he was deliberately looking for the opportunity or if it was a spontaneous moment, but he said he knows his mind is going.”
“No surprise there,” he says. “Tom is a smart guy. The only surprise is that he spoke the word aloud.”
“He didn’t. Not the word. But a spot-on description. He is perfectly lucid about what he wants, which is no doctors, no medicine, no prolonging the inevitable.”
“Would he rush it?” When I look at him blankly, he asks, “Is he suicidal?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Any mention of the gun?”
“No.”
“Or anything else?”
“Like pills or a noose? Hell, he could just jump off the bluff.”
“Wouldn’t work on your side,” Jack remarks, reaching for a stick that is caught in his vegetation. “It would crumble under his feet, so he’d just slide down the hill.” Turning away, he hurls the stick, sending it end over end in a high arc toward his end of the beach. Guy shoots after it.
