Summer Sisters Part 15

Every experience with Caitlin was unforgettable. That wasn't the point. "I can't," she told them. "Not that I don't appreciate a"

"It's her boyfriend," Caitlin said again. "Never mind the great time we could have. She cares more about him than seeing the world with me."

"That's not it," Vix said, the pressure building.

Abby said, "Vix has to listen to her heart."

Caitlin said, "I don't think her heart is what's making this decision."

"Will you quit answering for me!" Vix said.

"Sorry," Caitlin told her. "It's just that I know you're going to regret this decision."

"But it's her decision to make," Abby said.

Caitlin rolled her eyes.

Didn't they understand? The scholars.h.i.+p was one thing. That came from the foundation and she'd earned it, by graduating second in her cla.s.s of thirty-two, with Board scores close to fourteen hundred. The scholars.h.i.+p wasn't exactly charity. But a trip to Europe a She wasn't their daughter. Besides, she'd already signed on full time with the cleaning service on the Vineyard and had a second job lined up, hostessing two nights a week at the Homeport, determined to earn her own spending money for college.

Tawny and Ed were heading in her direction. They were taking Vix to lunch at the restaurant in Tesuque where her father had a new job, as manager. The restaurant was described in The New Mexican as serving "traditional southwestern fare in a charming setting." Her father wanted to make it a party, inviting Caitlin and her family, but Tawny had vetoed the idea. "We don't have to pretend we can play in their league."

25.

SHE WAS THE ONE to suggest Bru meet her at the Flying Horses. After all, that's where it all began. She got there early and, on a whim, bought a ticket and rode an outside horse. She'd worried for weeks about how it would be when she and Bru saw each other again. Would the feelings still be there or would they take one look, turn, and run in opposite directions? She wasn't the same person she'd been last summer. She'd never be the same person. She was amazed, when she thought about it, that she could still eat, fall asleep at night, get up, brush her teeth, even laugh with friends, when all the time there was a hollow numbness someplace inside her.

The boy who collected the rings was a thin teenager with unwashed hair and bad skin, nothing like the National Treasure of her first island summer, with his sun-streaked ponytail and muscled arms. A small girl in denim overalls rode the horse next to hers and as the carousel began to spin she grasped the pole tightly with both hands and shrieked.

When they were in full whirl she caught a glimpse of Bru, moving through the crowd. She resisted the urge to call out to him and watched, instead, as he scouted the area, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans. She didn't recognize his s.h.i.+rt. She was wearing something new, too, a white cotton pullover with a deep V neck. She'd let her hair hang loose, the way he liked it, and she'd dabbed Love's Baby Soft on all his favorite places.

When he spotted her he jumped onto the moving carousel. She held her breath as he worked his way toward her, that slow smile lighting up his face. Then he was alongside her. She licked her lips because suddenly her mouth went dry. He touched her bare shoulder, making her knees go weak, her stomach tumble.

"How're you doing?"

"I'm okay. How about you?"

"Pretty good." He looked deep into her eyes and she could feel the heat between her legs. So, that part of her hadn't died.

"How's Caitlin?"

She didn't want to think about Caitlin. "She's in Europe."

"Yeah, Von's disappointed. How come she took off like that without telling him?"

"I guess he wasn't that important to her."

"Not like you and me."

"No. Not like you and me."

Bru WHAT TO SAY? d.a.m.n! He never can find the right words when he needs them. But she's waiting for him to say something. He feels it. Something about her brother's death. Something about how sorry he is. How he understands.

And he does. Really. He's been through it himself. Not the same thing, exactly. But close enough. His mother a Tell her about his mother? No way a forget it. He never talks about his mother, about those two years she was sick. There are no words for what happened. Oh yeah a there's the C word. The Big Unmentionable. There's that. But that doesn't say s.h.i.+t. Doesn't say how she screamed and cried from the pain. Doesn't say how the f.u.c.king chemo made her so sick she begged them to put a plastic bag over her head. Or how, when it was over, he'd tried to end it, too. Swallowed a bottle of aspirin. Had to pump out his stomach. What the f.u.c.k? He was just a kid. Fifteen. How can he tell her that?

Instead, he kisses her, hoping his kiss says it all a how he's thought about her all winter, wants to be with her, wants to make love to her. It doesn't have to be tonight. He can wait until she's ready. He hopes it's soon though. Real soon.

FROM THAT NIGHT ON nothing else mattered. She counted the minutes until she could be with him, said his name a hundred times a day, smiled to herself just thinking about him. Every love song spoke directly to her. After feeling listless for so many months she had energy to burn. She could work all day and still stay up half the night making love. When she was with him, time stood still. Every cliche she'd ever heard about love made complete sense.

"I don't mean to pry, Vix," Abby said, "but how serious is it with you and Bru?"

How serious? Did she mean were they making plans? They never talked about the future. Wasn't it enough to be in love? Totally, completely, hopelessly in love?

"I just want you to give yourself every opportunity," Abby told her. "Don't mistake physical attraction for love. I did, when I was your age, and it cost me a and ultimately, Daniel, too. I was engaged to Daniel's father when I was just nineteen. Nineteen, Vix. What did I know at nineteen? And n.o.body tried to stop me. My mother was pleased because he was a law student, someone who'd be able to provide for me. She never thought I should learn to provide for myself."

"Don't worry a" Vix said. "I'm going to provide for myself. I have goals." Isn't that the motto she'd chosen for her senior page in the Mountain Day yearbook?

A life without goals isn't worth living.

"What the f.u.c.k is that supposed to mean?" Caitlin had asked when she'd seen Vix's yearbook.

"Goals. Haven't you ever heard of goals?"

"What goals are we talking about? I'd say a life without adventure isn't worth living, a life without learning, a life without s.e.x, even a"

"It's just a quote," Vix said. "It doesn't have any hidden meaning." She couldn't admit that her goals included escaping from her family, finding out what else was out there, trying out life on her own, though she knew Caitlin would have applauded her. Instead she asked Caitlin, "What does your quote mean?"

"Mean?"

"Yes a since you're making such a thing out of mine. What exactly does *Tiger, tiger, burning bright' mean to you?"

"It's who I am," Caitlin said. "It's how I define myself."

"Really," Vix said.

"Yes, really," Caitlin answered. Then she looked hard at Vix. "Why are we having this conversation? Why are we acting as if we're angry. Are we angry?"

"I'm not angry," Vix said.

"Good a because neither am I."

"Maybe we're scared," Vix said.

"Scared?"

"Of being apart. Of losing each other."

"We're never going to lose each other," Caitlin said, holding Vix in her arms.

It was strange staying at the house without Caitlin. Their bedroom, with all its memories of past summers, felt empty. Vix played a tape they'd made singing "Dancing Queen" a and laughed at how young they sounded. She lay awake on her bed running through the details of every summer, but she could feel the panic of her last morning in this room, too, the morning she'd packed and left at sunrise a year ago, never to return.

"Would you rather stay in the boys' room?" Abby asked when she'd arrived, antic.i.p.ating her feelings. Neither Sharkey nor the Chicago Boys were coming back that summer. They were off doing their own things. She would finally have her chance to be an only child, the focus of Abby's and Lamb's attention, not that she wanted it now that she had Bru. She was grateful when Abby began to fill the house with guestsa"her college roommate, who lived in San Francisco; her parents, whom Vix had never met; old friends from Chicago; new friends from Cambridge. They'd eat dinner late and Vix was invited to join them anytime she wished, but after work she'd head for Bru's cabin in Gay Head.

He'd moved in mid-Julya"one room, woodstove, no plumbing or electricity, but cozy, with a real bed and curtains made by his aunt. Sometimes, as she slept in his arms after making love, she'd dream of Nathan. One night Nathan, his body straight and tall, was pus.h.i.+ng her through the woods in a baby carriage. When they reached their destination, a beautiful vista at the top of a mountain, he tilted the stroller so she could see. But she wasn't strapped in and she slid out, then down, tumbling through s.p.a.ce, her arms and legs splayed, a look of terror on her face. She cried out in her sleep, waking herself and Bru.

"What?" he asked.

"Bad dream," she said, burrowing into his chest.

"It's okay," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm here a I won't let anything bad happen to you."

She never allowed herself to spend the night in his cabin. She forced herself to climb out of bed, night after night, throw on her clothes, and drive home along Old County Road, the road where Lamb's parents were killed.

The phone rang late one night at the house, rousing all of them. Lamb or Abby must have picked up and Vix fell back asleep until Lamb knocked on her door and called, "Vix a if you're awake, it's Caitlin. She wants to talk to you."

She picked up the bedside phone, the one they'd installed for Caitlin the summer before. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Vix a I'm in Arles a you know, the place where Van Gogh cut off his ear? And it's so fantastic a the colors of the sky, the fields, the village. You've got to come a just for a week. And don't tell me you can't. If you want to, you can. That's all there is to it!"

"It's the middle of the night," Vix said, still half asleep.

"I know. That's what made me think of you. I don't want you to miss this. Joanne will give you a week off. You know she will." She paused, then added, "And so will Bru a if he really loves you."

She wished Caitlin would stop tempting her, would just quit telling her everything she was missing. She'd get there someday. On her own.

"I just hoped a" Caitlin said, barely audible, "because I'm not coming back in September a"

"What do you mean, you're not coming back?"

"I'm taking a year off before Wellesley, to travel and study abroad."

"When did you decide?"

"Just now," she said. "But it's always been a possibility."

Caitlin began to send postcards, a series of them, each one from a different place, a few cryptic words printed on the back.

I am the most a

You are my a

In the whole world a

We could be a

If only a

They reminded Vix of the messages printed on little candy hearts, the kind her father brought home for Valentine's Day. At the end of the week she laid them out, trying to find the hidden message, but there were too many possibilities.

Abby convinced her to bring Bru home for dinner. "Really, Vix a this is getting ridiculous. You can't keep him to yourself forever a" She knew Abby was right but she was nervous, afraid they would a what? Judge him and find him lacking? She didn't have to worry. He arrived on time with a bunch of cosmos for Abby. He was polite, almost shy, endearing.

Abby served a simple summer meal of grilled sword-fish, island-grown corn, salad, blueberry pie. "We think of Vix as our daughter," Lamb said, during dessert. "We're her Vineyard family."

"Yes, sir. I know that."

"And we're very proud that she's going to Harvard in September," Abby added.

"I know that, too." He squeezed Vix's thigh under the table, letting her know he got the message, a gesture neither Abby nor Lamb missed.

"What are your plans?" Abby asked Bru. "Do you think you'll stay here, on the Vineyard?"

"I'm an islander. I've got a good job with my uncles' construction firm. So long as the market for second homes holds we've got nothing to worry about."

"He seems like a very decent chap," Lamb said that night, after Bru left. "With a bright future."

"But Vix is so young a" Abby argued, "with her own bright future."

"Vix isn't going to do anything foolish, are you?" Lamb asked, to ease Abby's fears.

Before Vix could answer Abby said, "But she's in love a anyone with eyes can see that."

By mid-August Vix was exhausted. The boundless energy of early summer had dissipated. She felt as if she could sleep for weeks. "I don't like the idea of you starting college in such a rundown condition," Abby said. "Why not stop working now and take some time off to just relax?"