Restless Waters

  And the scars are many, and they are deep.

  Together though, we are overcoming both his past and mine.

  When he is a few yards away from me, I cannot stop myself from walking quickly into his arms. I put my hands on his face, run a finger over his lips, and study him as though we’d been apart for months, not hours.

  He smiles at me with curiosity. “You okay?”

  I nod slowly and don’t take my eyes from his. I am flooded again with the rush of what the entirety of us feels like, what it means for us to be together. “We’re doing it, aren’t we?”

  Because he understands me more intuitively than anyone else could, he nods back. “Yes, Blythe, we’re kicking heartbreak’s ass.”

  The power in this truth brings my lips to his, and I kiss the love of my life with more meaning and connectedness than I was ready for. My eyes sting a bit, and my chest tightens with emotion. The taste of his mouth and the feel of his hold as he keeps me close will, without fail, shut down the rest of the world, so I let myself disappear into him.

  Then, Chris slows our kiss, dipping me in his arms until my head is hanging upside down.

  He strokes a hand down my front and smiles. “Like I said, practically see-through…”

  I laugh and grab his hand to pull myself up. He turns my back into his chest, and I catch sight of Sabin in the water. I like how he is drifting, seeming to be without worry, without abandon.

  “Our boy taught himself how to float, didn’t he?” I say. “You can’t drown when you know how to float.”

  Chris says nothing for a few minutes. “Maybe. But the water is pretty calm today. There could always be a storm.” He rubs my shoulders. He breathes against me. He waits. “It’s hard to float in a storm.”

  He’s right, but it’s not the optimistic attitude I was hoping for. I lift my chin and look back at him. “Let’s just enjoy the moment, okay?”

  Chris laughs softly. “Okay.”

  When I turn back to Sabin, I notice that I’m relieved I can still see him, as though I were worried he had drowned when I looked away. Even at this distance, I can see that he’s watching Chris and me. I wave lightly, and he waves back before paddling himself in the opposite direction.

  The necklace that I wear every day now burns against my chest in the sun. My fingers fumble through the letter charms for Christopher, Estelle, Eric, and me until I find the S for Sabin. The silver shape feels the same that it always does, but I rub it between my fingers to be sure of its presence.

  It’s still here, and Sabin is still here.

  Jonah swims to shore, shakes himself off, and comes to stand with Chris and me.

  We all watch Sabin, now alone in the vast ocean.

  After I’ve showered and dressed for dinner, I pause at the top of the stairs and listen to the beautiful sounds echoing up to the second floor. It’s the sounds of my family—Estelle’s riotous laughter, Chris clanging pots as he sets them on the stove, James doing his best Prince imitation along with the music.

  The floorboards behind me creak, and Eric emerges from his room. His dark hair has been freshly buzzed, showing off the stunning angled bone structure all the siblings have, and I reach out and rub the top of his head the way I do each time he cuts it this short.

  He grins. “Hey, Blythe.”

  “You ready to head back to school tomorrow?” I’m trying to feign excitement for him, but it’s not easy. I can already feel the silence that will envelop the house.

  Eric nods. “I am. It’s going to be a tough year of work, but changing to a history major feels right.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Academics is the only draw to return then?”

  He blushes slightly. “Obviously, there’s Zach. I’m glad he’s staying near school this year.”

  I manage to keep from clapping my hands together. “So, things are still good?”

  “You don’t have to keep checking,” he says gently. “We’re really good.”

  “Sorry that I’ve been hovering.” I shrug. “Can’t help it.”

  “Well, you’re pretty much my sister, so I won’t fault you.”

  Eric and Zach have been back together for more than six months. I know how much they love each other, but Eric is one to lay low and not gush about his love life, so the occasional prod seems reasonable.

  Estelle’s voice screeches up to us, “Fifty bucks on Alexander! He’s a motherfucking winner, if ever there were one! Check out my badass boy!”

  “Uh, who is Alexander?” Eric asks.

  I shake my head. “Absolutely no idea.”

  “Oh, yeah? Fifty on Moses!” James hollers.

  Eric and I head down the wide wooden staircase that wraps around and lands us in the grand living room, and we both walk cautiously through the dining room and into the kitchen.

  I’m still somewhat stupefied at the size of the kitchen. This house must have been a bed-and-breakfast at some point because the oversize stainless steel appliances and matching stainless counters are far too much for a traditional house. The Shepherds, James, and I, however, are far from traditional, so we make good use of it.

  I can’t begin to imagine what my parents were thinking when they bought this house for just themselves and James and me. Because they never got to move in and spend summers here, I am doing what I can to fill it with family and love for as much of the year as possible.

  Cheering and clapping greet us when we enter. Chris is standing on a chair with a whistle in his mouth and his hands up in the air. He glances at me, winks, and simultaneously blows the whistle as he throws his arms down. Estelle and James each set a lobster on the kitchen floor and go wild. Masking tape marks off a racecourse, and about fifteen feet from the twins are two orange traffic cones with rainbow flags stuck in them. This is presumably the finish line.

  I roll my eyes but laugh.

  “Blythe, get over here on the girls’ side and cheer for Alexander the Red with me. James is going down like a little bitch!” Estelle has on a red flippy mini skirt, white tank, and white sneakers, and she’s drawn a small megaphone outline on her cheek with what I presume is eyeliner. She’s let her black hair grow a bit longer than usual so that it covers her ears and hits the back of her neck. For the first time in ages, she’s left it solid black without any sort of neon streak running through it.

  “You’re seriously racing lobsters?” I ask.

  “It’s our last night in Maine. Seems fitting,” James answers for her before screaming at his lobster, “Moses! C’mon, dude! Stop walking in circles, you moron!”

  My brother’s cheeks are flushed, and I’m not sure if it’s from the apparent excitement over this lobster race or because Estelle is jumping up and down, flashing her black lace panties at him.

  I go to Estelle’s side and try to copy her rather elaborate cheerleader moves. Given how slowly these lobsters are moving, I think I might have time to perfect this routine.

  “Estelle, one more blatant leg kick like that, and I’m going to disqualify you,” Chris warns her.

  She sticks out her tongue at him. “Fuck you! All is fair in lobsters and war!” Then, she turns her back to James and bends over, briefly flipping up her skirt.

  “Estelle! God!” Eric groans, covering his eyes.

  I’m about to ask where Sabin is, but just then, a skateboard appears from under Chris’s chair, and Sabin pops out from behind him.

  “I will conquer you all!” he roars, gesturing to the lobster atop the skateboard rolling across the tile.

  His contestant easily passes the other two lobsters that have thus far done nothing but veer off course. Estelle and James scream in protest, but Sabin is already bounding after his lobster that has soared through the finish line and continued into the dining room.

  “No way! Chris, tell him that’s cheating!” James demands.

  Chris jumps down from the chair and throws up his hands. “Estelle said it. It seems, all is fair in lobsters and war. We never actually said skateboards weren’t
allowed.” He walks toward Sabin and high-fives him, entwining their fingers, before giving him a hug and patting his back.

  Sabin makes a crazy swoon face as he grabs Chris by the waist and lifts him up, causing the two of them to stumble across the floor. “Older brothers are the bestest ever,” he singsongs.

  “No, older brothers suck!” Estelle stomps her foot and rescues her lobster from the potential Chris-Sabin stampede. “For failing me,” she informs Alexander, “you will be steamed and eaten by the enemy.” She turns to Sabin, offering him her losing contestant. “He’s all yours.”

  “Gladly, my darling sister.” Sabin sets Chris back on the floor and makes lobster claws with his hands, pinching his way toward Estelle.

  James strides to Estelle with Moses in one hand and the other beckoning her. “Come here, missy. I think Moses belongs to you then, tail meat and all.”

  She crosses her arms but steps into him and takes the lobster. “Given that you are not one of my nasty brothers, I accept. Besides,” she says as she walks to the stove, “I always did like your tail.”

  The rest of the boys let out a raucous, “Oh!” as James grabs Alexander and Sabin’s lobster and meets Estelle by the boiling pots.

  Eric catches my eye, and I smile. There might be hope for James and Estelle after all.

  As far as I know, they haven’t touched each other all summer. Not that I want lurid details, but I’ve been hoping that they’d find their way back together. I never thought Estelle would voluntarily retile a bathroom either, so stranger things have happened for sure.

  I watch her and James for a moment, and I bite my lip when he slips an arm around her waist. I know that she went to therapy last year, but the conversation she and I had about it involved her narrowing her eyes and speaking in an Austrian accent.

  “And how has your hideous childhood impacted your psychological and sexual functioning?”

  That was followed by oversharing in a typical Estelle fashion.

  “I haven’t had sex since I nailed your brother in the hammock last summer. So, how do you think I’m doing? I mean, I’m not getting rope burns in weird places, but I am buying stock in batteries, okay? An abstinent woman cannot have enough vibrators, right?”

  I’m not sure how long the self-imposed abstinence will continue, but the truth is, it’s good for her. She spiraled into such a weird dysfunctional place with men and then started to pull my brother into it. It seems very unlike her not to be getting laid every chance she gets, but James seems willing to wait. I haven’t heard him mention any girls from college, so his tie to Estelle must run deeper than I know. For that, I’m glad.

  “B, where’s my potato salad? And my coleslaw? And my corn on the cob?” Sabin’s voice booms through the kitchen as he exaggeratedly rubs his hands over his stomach. “Sabin be hungry! Sabin need eats!”

  I grab his hand and drag him to the fridge. “Hold out your hands. You can carry the salads to the table, and I’ll wrap the corn in foil for the grill, okay?”

  Sabin diligently takes the oversize containers and grunts. “Is good, Blythe. Sabin like woman feed me. More dead animal, less vegetable.”

  “Okay, caveman. There’s steak, too.”

  On cue, Chris passes us with a platter of marinated steaks, and he delivers his own grunt. “We grill animal, yes?”

  “Argh, yes. Animal.” Sabin lumbers like a Neanderthal, following Chris out of the kitchen.

  “If you’d like some help from someone less cavemanish, I’m yours,” Eric offers. “I suppose I could go club a wild boar or something for you, but I’m also very good at setting tables.”

  “Ah, the voice of sanity,” I say with a smile. “I would love help.”

  Eric and I are silent as we lay out plates and silverware. Both of us are hyperaware that it could be a long time before we all have dinner together in this house.

  Next summer, the twins and James will have graduated. It would be perfectly normal for them to go off and get jobs outside of this small tourist area in Maine. I expect it. I don’t like it maybe, but I expect it. I want everyone to explore and flourish and be wonderful. But I also want to keep this group close to Chris and me.

  “Please don’t look so sad,” Eric finally says. “We’ll see you again. A lot.”

  “Okay.” I can’t look at him.

  This summer has been idyllic with hours on the beach, poorly played volleyball in the yard, canoeing, hiking through Acadia National Park, and digging for clams. More than that, it’s the unification of this group of formerly lost souls. It’s been a syrupy lovefest for the past three months, and I wish it could last forever.

  I think about that stupid fucking saying, Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I want to barf. I’m already beyond fond of everyone, so I’m all set.

  I mentally shake my head. I’m not going to feel sad. We are all lucky to have this summer and to have each other. Every one of us is in a far better place than we were before, so I try to focus on that and not on the fact that this magical summer can’t last forever.

  Besides, I remind myself, Sabin is staying, and that’s huge.

  If he puts his mind to it, he can make as much noise as all of us combined, so it’ll hardly be quiet around here.

  I wince as Estelle lets out a slew of profanity, and she comes running from the kitchen, screaming and laughing, as James chases after her. They both tear out onto the deck, and I hear them running down the steps.

  “Hey! Don’t go far! Dinner is soon!” I call after them.

  Two hours later, when our long farm table is cluttered with empty lobster, clam, and mussel shells and we’re all a bit drunk on flavor, James stands and raises his glass. “A toast!”

  “A toast!” we all call back.

  “To Chris and Blythe, for letting us invade their house and run amok like the unruly brats that we are!”

  “Hear, hear!” echoes around us.

  Chris and I both shake our heads in protest.

  “We wouldn’t have it any other way.” Chris fiddles with the place mat.

  “He’s right,” I say. “This is your home. Always.”

  “Good. Because we don’t have anywhere else to go, so you’re stuck with us.” Estelle stretches her arms above her head. “I have to finish packing. Early flight.”

  James is out of his chair like lightning. “I’ll help.”

  “I’ve still got laundry to do,” Eric says. “And, well, I want to call Zach. But we’ll help clean up first.”

  I wave him away. “It’s your last night. Send-off dinner and all. Go do what you need to do.”

  “Thanks, Blythe,” he says. “We’re all going to miss you. But we’ll call and text all the time.”

  “Promise?” I ask.

  “Promise!” Eric, Estelle, and James all shout before heading upstairs.

  Sabin rises from his seat. “I’ll do all the grunt work, kids.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” I move to lift the bowl of shells in front of me.

  Sabin snatches it away. “Relax, B. I got this.”

  Chris’s arm goes over my shoulder. “Does this mean I get a minute alone with you?” He leans over and lightly kisses my neck.

  “Apparently.” I sigh with pleasure when his tongue touches my skin, and he growls.

  “Dance with me,” he whispers.

  “What?”

  Chris stands and pulls me up before walking us toward the French doors that lead out to the deck. I barely noticed the music earlier with all the dinner banter, but now, I hear it.

  He slips one hand around my waist and takes my hand in his free one, lifting it up. Then, he starts to slowly rock us. It takes a full song for us to turn in a complete circle. The sound of the music and the feel of him against me are intoxicating, and it makes it hard for me to pay attention to much else. He’s as mesmerizing as the day I met him.

  His cheek goes against mine. “Do you remember this song?”

  “Of course.”

  It was o
n the first playlist that Chris ever made me, the one that helped me run through the pain. I know every second of this song, every layer of its sound.

  “We’ve loved each other forever,” he says softly.

  “On the day I was on the dock and you were on the shore, I fell in love with you. I didn’t know it, but I did.”

  “Before that.” He tightens his fingers around my side. “Forever.”

  I don’t care that it’s not possible, that what he’s saying doesn’t make logical sense, or that it doesn’t sound like him. Christopher Shepherd is not a dreamer, not prone to magical thinking. But he is, I’m learning, changing. He’s believing and hoping, and the edges of his black-and-white world are blurring.

  “Forever,” I agree. I say this not to feed his romantic side, but because I know it to be true.

  The sunset casts fierce orange and pink light into the room, and I lean against Chris while we dance. Slowly, we keep turning until I can no longer see the sparkle of the ocean or the tiers of color in the sky.

  Now, I see Sabin, leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen, with a dishcloth in one hand and a glass in the other.

  I smile at him, and he smiles back—or I think he does. Maybe it’s a sad smile. Maybe it’s just the way the setting sun hits his face. I lock my eyes on his and try to figure out what he’s thinking, but I can’t. So, I shift my gaze, but in my peripheral vision, I can see that he’s still watching Chris and me.

  Something is brewing with Sabin, but I don’t know what it is.

  Chris, Sabin, and I finish the dishes, and I go upstairs to check on the others. I’m about to take a step that I know will creak when I hear James’s voice.

  “I miss you, Estelle. I care about you so much.”

  “James, I’m impossible. You know that. I’m fucking crazy and hopeless.” Her words say one thing, but the lack of conviction tells me that James has worn her down.

  “You’re wonderfully crazy, and you give me nothing but hope.”

  I smile. My brother’s a charmer.

  “Stay with me tonight,” he continues.

  “I can’t. I’m not ready. I told myself—”