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Isobel
Reuben'smotherlookslikeshe belongs on a reality show about rich housewives.
Despite getting off a plane sometime in the middle of the night, and Evie's itinerary ordering us all here by nine in the morning, Kennedy Lucas breezes onto the dock where we're standing with a full face of makeup, a designer bag hanging from her arm and professionally colored blonde hair that doesn't seem to be the slightest bit affected by the tropical humidity. She's followed by her slightly-shorter husband, whose gold watch is glinting in the bright morning sun. I watch as she points to us in the distance, her dazzlingly white smile visible even from here, and he nods obligingly.
Judah still hasn't appeared, but the rest of us are dressed casually for a day at sea. Determinednotto dress for his eyes, I wore a loose t-shirt and shorts, but I can't help regretting it now that I see Kennedy's expensive-looking romper. Not that I'm in competition with his ex. What Judah Hale thinks about me doesn't matter.
I don'twanthim to be attracted to me.
I would expect a woman like Kennedy to be a nightmare to my mother, but they embrace warmly, exclaiming that they can't believe their babies are getting married while Evie and Reuben linger by their side, ignored.
"And this must be your sister, Isobel," Kennedy asks Evie, smiling warmly at me when she finally tears herself away from my mother. "Another future Doctor Bradley?"
Evie laughs. "Obviously."
Hopefully. Though my inbox was still empty when I refreshed it half a dozen times before coming here.
"She'll be getting her acceptance from Harvard Med any day now," Reuben tells her, shooting me a grin. He seems to be a lot like Judah, amiable and kind, the kind of person you can't help but like. "Isobel, this is my mother, Kennedy, and her husband, Tom. Their son, my brother Nolan, will be arriving the day after tomorrow. He had a work emergency."
Kennedy lets out a tinkling laugh, "I'm always telling him to work less, but he never listens. Goodness, Isobel, you're such a beauty, just like your sister."
"Oh, um, thank you?"
She's already moved on to hugging my father and reminding him he promised to participate in her charity event next month. And, like I can sense him coming, I turn just in time to see Judah rounding the corner onto the dock. Like most of us, he's dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, his graying hair still damp from the shower, a book tucked under his arm.
"Good morning, everyone." His low voice resonates deep inside me, and my stomach flutters, even as I shrink back toward the coolers to get out of everyone's way. "Kennedy, Tom, good to see you both."
I don't know how long he and Kennedy have been divorced, but for her to have an adult son with another man, it must be a long time. There doesn't appear to be any animosity between them either, and I watch out of the corner of my eye as he kisses his ex-wife's cheek and shakes hands with her husband before finally turning to greet my parents with noticeably less warmth.
Huh.
Is there some history there that I don't know about?
"We should get going!" Evie calls over everyone's heads, gesturing toward today's scheduled family bonding activity, the huge, sleek white sailboat floating alongside the dock. My father tried to teach Evie and me to sail as kids, though between boarding school and his schedule, I remember the family boat sat unused in the marina for years at a time, and we never quite picked up on it. Dad is in his element, though, bossing everyone around as we get on board, and I have no desire to get in his way.
I settle as far away from where everyone is sitting on the stern as possible, leaning against the cockpit, and my legs stretched out on the deck as the sounds of laughter and happy chatter carry over to me in the wind. It doesn't take long for the sails to unfurl and for Dad to steer the boat out of the resort's little harbor toward open water.
I have to admit this feels pretty wonderful. The anxiety that's gripped me for weeks is ebbing away the further we get from land, and I lean my head back against the cockpit with a sigh. I should probably sit back with everyone else, have a few drinks, and spend time with my family. That was my plan, after all. Since getting here, though, I've felt so much more removed from them than I remember being the last time we were together. I don't know what to say, how to act, or how to begin breaking into that closed Evie-Mom-Dad circle.
After I get into medical school, it will be better. They'll be pleased. We'll have things to talk about, places, and life experiences in common. I bet this time next year, I'll be a whole new person.
Sighing, I reach into my bag and pull out the book I brought at the airport, sliding my sunglasses down off the top of my head and cracking open the brand-new paperback. I can't remember the last time I read a book that had nothing to do with pharmacology, biology, or chemistry. I only have a few weeks before my last undergraduate semester starts, and detaching myself from reality sounds pretty good right now.
I've barely made it past the first paragraph, though, when motion out of the corner of my eye makes me look up sharply. Judah is standing over me, his own book grasped in his hand, and I realize, with a little jolt, it's the same as mine.
"Sorry, I thought you were below." He says quietly, gesturing back toward the stern. I expect him to leave, but he doesn't. "I, ah. I wanted to touch base about yesterday."
Shit.Yesterday. I thought we were pretending that didn't happen. I apologized. What more does he want?
Behind us, I hear Kennedy and my mother's laughter and glance uneasily over my shoulder. Even though talking about this is the last thing in the world I want to do, I still find myself scooting over, making room for him to sit beside me. Judah's eyes flair with surprise, but he doesn't hesitate, folding himself down onto the deck, his much longer legs stretched out beside mine. We're sitting at a perfectly respectful distance apart, but I'm still hyperaware of where his body is in proximity to mine.
I'm determined not to look at him, but as soon as he says, "I wasn't upset about you not liking the wine at dinner." I'm so taken aback that I can't help looking around.
He's looking at me, his brow furrowed, like this was really bothering him, and he's seized the first opportunity he could find to clear the air. I was expecting a hushed, urgent request to never tell a soul about the first time we met, not for him actually to care what I think of him.
Something knots inside me as Judah plows on, his voice low. "I was angry at how your mother spoke to you,nothingelse. I hope you can forgive me for not being clear on that. I'm sorry."
Why does this whole interaction make me want to cry?
