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Bethany had to make some phone calls to the hospital to check on her patients. This left Rebecca to wade sullenly through the kitchen and her childhood bedroom at a loss. She texted Lily, Shelby, and Chad for updates, and no one responded. She cursed herself for being so needy.
Rebecca donned a pair of shorts, a light sweatshirt, and her running shoes and stepped into the late morning light. For years, she’d used running to calm her anxiety around motherhood and being a head chef. All it took, usually, was thirty minutes. Fred had called it her “therapy.” Sometimes, they’d run together, racing across Maine beaches and up mountain trails. It seemed odd that Fred had been so healthy, only to die in such a stupid way.
No. She couldn’t think about Fred. Not now.
Rebecca began to jog down the beach. The sand fought her, trying to eat her shoes. When exhaustion took hold of her, she turned back to the streets and headed downtown to loop through the old-world colonial buildings and people-watch. Other joggers passed her and waved as though they belonged to one community.
Yet again, Rebecca found herself in front of the Sutton Book Club. It was still locked up, and the curtains pulled to shield the older books from the sharp sun rays. Grandpa Thomas had always said it was up to them to protect the older books from damage. They were relics of history.
Rebecca turned back toward the beach. Her muscles felt electric and recharged, and her thoughts felt zippy and fast. When she finally staggered back out onto the sand, she gripped her waist and lifted her face to take in the full splendor of the sun. To ground herself back in reality, she considered the current facts of her life. Number one: she was on Nantucket Island. Number two: her mother was not missing; she was just taking her time to come home. Number three: her love for Bethany was powerful. Already, it had given her a newfound strength, one she hadn’t felt since before Fred’s death.
As Rebecca walked down the beach, she spotted two familiar figures. She stopped, placed her hand over her forehead, and took them in—a very old man and a muscular young man, both stretched out on a blanket as the sun warmed them and the waves cascaded toward shore.
Rebecca’s heart seized with a mix of sorrow and wonder. As she approached them, she tried to imagine the story of how Ben and Doug had met one another. What had led a young man in his forties to live his life with a very old man?
“Hi there.” Rebecca waved as she approached.
Ben leaped up with surprise. Doug adjusted his hat and laughed good-naturedly. It was the kind of laughter that wrapped around you and warmed your soul.
“I knew this island was small,” Rebecca continued. “You troublemakers seem to pop up everywhere.”
Ben laughed. He seemed oddly embarrassed or very shy. “You’re out for a run?”
“That’s right,” Rebecca said. “But the sand is exhausting.”
Ben nodded. Rebecca suddenly thought that Ben’s war had been fought in the Middle Eastern desert, so he probably knew more about sand than just about anyone.
“We’re having a picnic.” Ben gestured to a brown paper sack.
“Ben makes a mighty fine bologna and cheese sandwich,” Doug boasted.
“I’m sure that’s nothing to you. Your dad told me you’re a chef.” Ben smiled nervously.
Rebecca tilted her head. When had Ben spent any time with her father?
“I ran into him at the bar last night,” Ben added. The glint in his eyes told Rebecca there was more to the story than he was willing to share.
“I hope he was okay?”
“He was fine,” Ben said. “Neither of us could sleep last night. We kept each other company.”
“Ben makes me go to bed early,” Doug explained. “Do you think I should claim elder abuse?” He cackled with laughter as Ben swatted him playfully.
Rebecca laughed gently, unsure of what to say. Had Victor revealed all of the Suttons’ dirty laundry? Did Ben know everything? Then again, if he did, was that so bad? Their dirty laundry was practically ancient at this point.
“You should sit with us,” Doug suggested. “You’re making me nervous up there.”
Rebecca dropped onto the warm sand beside Doug. Doug leafed through a brown paper bag and removed a Budweiser and passed it over to her, pressing his finger to his lips. “Don’t tell the young one I’m drinking this early in the afternoon. He gets finicky.”
Rebecca accepted the beer but didn’t open it. Doug’s eyes glittered happily as he sipped his brew and gazed out across the water. Probably, he had a better idea of how to appreciate the beauty of the day than she did.
“She’ll come back,” Ben said suddenly, surprising Rebecca. “Esme, I mean. She’s a Nantucketer, through and through. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself anywhere else.”
Rebecca sighed. She hoped Ben was right. “She seemed happy with Larry?”
“Over the moon,” Doug affirmed. “She blushed like a schoolgirl when Larry was around.”
Rebecca’s heart lifted. Again, she was grateful her mother had been able to fall in love again after so many years of darkness.
