The Last Summer at Chelsea Beach

  “Why not?”

  “That’s a second question. I wouldn’t right now. Not with anyone.”

  “Not even with Charlie?”

  “That’s your third question. Now, it’s my turn to ask.”

  Ignoring me, he pressed on. “You love him, don’t you?”

  My breath caught. Was it really so obvious? “That’s your fourth. Truth or dare?”

  “Addie, this is stupid. You’ll keep choosing truth and I’ll keep choosing dare, because that’s who we are. There’s nothing left to say.”

  “One more,” I pleaded.

  “Okay, I choose dare.”

  “I dare you to succeed, Liam Connally. You can rebel all you want, but you don’t have to go to hell in a handbasket while doing it. Hang in there, do your homework. Just get by and for goodness’ sake don’t get yourself killed.”

  “Now you sound like my mother.” A quiet moment passed between us. “Truth or dare.”

  I took a deep breath, desperate to reach him and pull him from the corner into which he had withdrawn. “Dare.”

  “Really?” Surprised, he thought for a moment. “Come swimming with me.”

  Behind him the ocean at dusk roiled, darker and more menacing than ever. “I can’t, Liam. You know that.”

  “Please,” he pleaded in a voice that tugged at my heart. For a moment, I considered trying. It might be my only chance to reach him.

  But fear clamped down anew. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

  He held out his hand, as though inviting me to accompany him on a journey, and I wanted—really wanted—take it. “C’mon, Addie. Live a little.” I shook my head. “I thought so.” His voice was guarded once more. “You’re telling me to change, but you won’t.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. I thought you trusted me.”

  “I do—”

  He picked up his bag. “This is a joke. I’ve got to go.”

  “Don’t walk away like this.” Now it was my turn to plead.

  “What else is there to say? You’ve done your good deed for the day trying to reform me. But you can’t turn me into a cause, or return me to my family like some kind of trophy.”

  “What about your family?”

  He stiffened defensively. “What about them?”

  “You’re hurting them.”

  “They’ll be fine no matter what I do.”

  “And Robbie?” I countered. “He looks up to you.”

  “He’s got no shortage of big brothers. Jack and Charlie are the better role models by far.”

  “Do you really believe that?” He did not answer but looked away, eyes distant. When had Liam slipped away from us? In the middle of a noisy Connally kitchen or in a quiet moment when no one was looking? He seemed gone down a path now too far to reach.

  “This has got to stop, Liam, before someone gets hurt.” But he turned and walked up the beach. I watched helplessly as he slipped back into the destructive lifestyle that seemed to be claiming him for its own.

  I reached Sunset Avenue forty minutes later, feet aching from the long walk back. The brackish smell of low tide rose from the bay waters, unseen in the darkness. I eyed the Connally house, my disappointment rising anew. Liam was still at the beach or God only knew where, Charlie on his date. Nothing was the same anymore. I started for our house, then stopped with surprise. My aunt and uncle were waiting for me on the front porch. It was nearly ten o’clock. Were they mad at me for going out without asking, or coming home late, or simply for spending more time with the Connallys?

  But there was no anger in their eyes. “Addie, come, sit,” Aunt Bess said as they led me to the stairs up to our rooms. Aunt Bess sat down beside me on the daybed in the sunroom. “It’s about your parents.” She looked at Uncle Meyer uncertainly and then back to me. “They’ve gone missing.”

  All the air seemed to leave my lungs as all of the worries I’d had about the Connallys vanished. “Papa was arrested before.” I willed myself to breathe against the tightness in my chest. “But he came back.” My parents had remained in my thoughts of course, though fuzzier and more remote with time. Now their faces appeared sharply before me and my guilt rose. How had I let go of worrying about them, even for a single second?

  Uncle Meyer brushed at his eyes. “It’s not like that. I’m afraid they’re both gone.” In his hand he clutched a small bundle of worn envelopes. I reached out and took them, trembling as I recognized the letters I’d written to my parents, one each week since coming here. I’d described my life with great care, focusing on the best parts in hopes that it would make them stop what they were doing and come to America. It had hurt that other than once at the beginning they had not written back, even for my birthday and the holidays. My uncle’s explanations about the inconsistency of wartime post had been of little comfort. Now my letters had been returned, each one stamped undeliverable.

  “How long have you known?”

  My aunt and uncle exchanged uneasy looks. “We knew the letters were coming back, but we didn’t know why until just now,” Uncle Meyer answered. Why hadn’t they told me? He passed me a torn piece of paper containing a scrawl in Italian: Montfortes no longer at this address. No forwarding address given.

  “They could be in hiding,” I said, clinging desperately to hope.

  Uncle Meyer’s eyes flickered and there seemed to be something more he wanted to say. My parents would not have gone without sending me a way to reach them—unless they were taken unexpectedly, not given a choice.

  “We don’t know if they were arrested,” Aunt Bess offered, as though this might make things better. She had never been there—how could she possibly know?

  I turned and ran down the steps of the duplex and across the yard. I knocked, then opened the door without waiting. Mrs. Connally sat alone reading on the sofa. Seeing me, her face crinkled with concern. “Addie, what is it?”

  “My parents.” I told her what I had just learned. She enveloped me softly, letting me sob into the softness of her skirt.

  A few minutes later, I straightened. “If I hadn’t left, they might be safe.” Of course, it had not been my choice. Mamma had not even told me I was leaving Trieste until we reached the ship, knowing I would refuse. But I could have fought it and even run away and gone back.

  “If you hadn’t left, you would have been taken as well,” Mrs. Connally said softly. “Your mother did what all good mothers do, fight for their children’s survival. I would have done the same.”

  “No, you would have gone with your boys.” I was not talking back, just being honest. Anger rose up in me then. Why couldn’t my parents have put caring for me first?

  Robbie padded into the room then, rubbing his eyes. “Addie, what are you doing here?”

  “Just talking,” Mrs. Connally said quickly, as I wiped the tears from my cheek, trying to shield her youngest from bad news. “You can stay here tonight if you want,” Mrs. Connally offered.

  “Like a slumber party?” Robbie asked, brightening.

  His mother chuckled. “Something like that. I’ll let your aunt know.” I nodded gratefully and Mrs. Connally walked from the room. Robbie dropped down beside me and slipped his hand into mine, sensing my sadness. Mrs. Connally returned with a pillow and blanket, which she arranged on the couch.

  “Off to bed.” She shooed Robbie. He stood, but lingered by the doorway.

  “Where are the others?” I asked.

  “Jack’s sleeping. And Liam...” Mrs. Connally gestured helplessly, not wanting to say more in front of Robbie. So Liam had not come back after I had seen him at the beach. Our talk, it seemed, had done no good at all. And Charlie was not back from his date either. Jealousy wormed its way into the worry about my parents and nagged at my stomach once more.

  “Can Addie stay for brea
kfast in the morning?” Robbie asked.

  “Of course, if she likes. Now go.” After Robbie disappeared up the steps, Mrs. Connally hung back. “I would never try to replace your mother.” The word twisted in my stomach like a knife. “And I know that you have your aunt. But I’m here for you—we all are. And with all of these boys,” she added, gesturing upward. “Well, I’m glad you’re with us.” As she started up the stairs, I exhaled quietly. Though I so often wanted to be a Connally, I was glad for once she had not said I was like a daughter. Tonight I could not have stood it.

  I lay in the darkness, the news about my parents pressing down on me. I burrowed into the covers, trying to remember the feel of my mother’s dress as I hugged her, and her smell so much like a field of lavender in early spring. There were a thousand other details that had already begun to fade with time. My eyes grew heavy. I drifted off and the ocean loomed, churning darkly before me.

  A wave rose, but before it could crash down, a cracking noise startled me awake. I reached for the pocketknife that I kept under my pillow, the one Aunt Bess and the others did not know about. But it was not there. I sat bolt upright. “Easy,” a familiar voice said. Charlie. His hands were on my shoulders, firm and soothing. “What are you doing here, Addie?” I sat up, recalling that I was on the Connallys’ couch, not in my bed.

  My grief swelled thinking about my parents, threatening to drown me and for a moment I wanted to throw myself into Charlie’s arms. Then I remembered he’d been on a date I stood, the blanket from my makeshift bed falling to the floor. “I was just headed home. Don’t turn on the light,” I added, hearing the hoarseness in my own voice. I didn’t want him to see my tears.

  “Wait. Want to go for a walk?”

  I turned back, surprised. “Isn’t it late?”

  “Does that matter? Last night here—no sense wasting it sleeping.” No, he had wasted it on a date with someone else. But I didn’t have the strength to argue. I slipped on my sandals and followed him outside. The street was still except for our footsteps as we walked toward the inlet, following the curve of the bay.

  “How was your date?” I could not keep the note of recrimination from my voice.

  But he ignored or did not hear it. “Okay, I guess. We just didn’t have much to talk about.”

  We reached the jetty by the bay and lowered ourselves to the rocks. I averted my eyes from the dark water below. “Hard to believe I’m leaving for school tomorrow,” he remarked.

  I swallowed over the protest that rose in my throat. This was it. We would no longer all be together. “Hey, what’s the matter?” he asked, as I burst into tears.

  “My parents,” I said, because somehow it was easier than admitting I was crying over him. I told him Aunt Bess’s news. “They’re gone, Charlie, really gone.” He drew me close and I cried into his T-shirt, dampening and then soaking the material. He did not speak or try to make it better by offering false hope, but simply held me in the way that was exactly what I needed, even though I had not myself known it.

  “And the worst part is that I’m angry. Angry at them for choosing their work over me. Isn’t that awful?”

  “Our family isn’t perfect either, Addie,” he said, a gravelly undercurrent to his voice. “Things got bad during the Depression,” he continued, and it was as if he was opening a door to reveal things about their family. “Dad’s business shut down and he couldn’t find work. We would have lost the house in the city and the one here, too, if they weren’t already paid for. Dad was drinking a lot and some days he wouldn’t even get out of bed. I was just a little kid, but I could tell. Then one day...” Charlie broke off. “He tried to hurt himself.” My stomach dropped as I tried to reconcile the story I was hearing with the sunny loving father I’d come to know. “Anyway, he got help and he’s better now, but that’s why he isn’t eligible for the draft.”

  “Oh, Charlie,” I sighed, momentarily forgetting my own grief. Scars ran deep, even in a family as close as the Connallys. I touched his arm, the skin warm beneath my fingertips. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine. It isn’t anywhere near what you’ve lost. We’re here for you, Addie. I’m here for you.”

  I leaned my head on his shoulder. There was a peaceful silence between us, only broken by the gentle lapping of the water against the bottom of the dock. A minute later I straightened, lifting my head. Our eyes locked.

  Charlie lowered his head and before I knew what was happening his lips met mine, sending waves of electricity through me. A moment later, he drew back. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I love you,” I blurted out. A chasm seemed to open between us, threatening to swallow me. Should I take it back? No, I would not hide from the truth. “I love you,” I repeated, raising my chin and meeting his eyes squarely.

  In that moment I was falling from the sky, nothing to catch me if Charlie did not respond. The entire world hung in the balance. “I do, too,” he said and the declaration, just short of mine, was somehow enough. I landed in his arms, saved. He kissed me and it was the moment of purest joy, tasting and touching the very thing I had wanted for all of this time. “I’ve been trying to keep my distance,” he said when we broke apart. So that explained why he had been avoiding me.

  Before I could respond his lips were on mine again, this time more intense, a freight train neither of us could—or wanted—to stop. Then he pulled back. “We shouldn’t,” he repeated, more firmly this time. Was he having second thoughts? Perhaps I had done something wrong. Heat crept up from my neck. I could see the struggle within him, wanting more. If I pressed, would he stop resisting? But he straightened, intent on doing the right thing, as he always had.

  “I’m not a child,” I protested.

  “It’s not that. I mean, I held off for so long because you’re like family and I didn’t want to screw it up. But there’s something else.” I tilted my head, unsure what more could be said on this night. “College...”

  “You’re leaving tomorrow,” I interjected, not wanting to disrupt the moment with unpleasant thoughts. “I’m not expecting to go steady.” I moved closer to him.

  But he held me off. “That’s just it. Addie...I’m not going.”

  “To Georgetown? What do you mean? Of course you are.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve deferred it. I’m still leaving tomorrow, only not for college—for boot camp. That is, I’ve enlisted.” He paused, waiting for my reaction.

  A cold chill raced up my spine. “So college and your scholarship, you’re just letting that go?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll go someday. But this is about something bigger than football and classes now. It’s a chance to make a difference in the world.” His face glowed with the very idealism I had fallen in love with in the first place—the same thing that was driving him to do this now. “There’s a whole world to explore and I want to be a part of it.” Then his expression turned grave. “You can’t tell Mom and Dad.”

  “But how can you possibly do this without them knowing?”

  “I’m eighteen. They can’t stop me.”

  “So you’re going off to war without ever telling them?” I could not keep the rebuke from my voice. “What if something happens? Charlie, they have to know.”

  “Telling them would only worry them. Let them think I’ve gone to school. I’ll come back at Thanksgiving when I’ve finished basic training and I’m about to deploy.” I sat silently, stunned by the audacity of his plan. “By then they will see it is for the best.” Remembering Mrs. Connally’s fear that the war would take her boys, I knew it would never be true. “It will give them something to be proud of.”

  “They’re already proud of you.” Cold terror enveloped me then. I wanted to ask, no, beg, him not to go. But it would do no good.

  “I’ve arranged to be inducted in Baltimore, not Philadelphia,” he continued. “And I
’m slated for boot camp at an army base just outside Washington. So if I write and call like everything is normal, they won’t notice.” He stopped, seeing my face. “It’s the best thing, don’t you see?” I did not answer, unable to acknowledge the twisted logic in what he was saying. “Promise me, you won’t tell.”

  “I promise.” The words came out before I could think about what they meant, the gravity of keeping Charlie’s enlistment secret from his family. “Do you mind that college will be delayed?”

  “Nah, they said that they’ll hold my football scholarship. I’m sorry to put this all on you, Addie, but now that there’s this between us.” I wanted to ask what “this” was exactly, but he took my hand. “And I was hoping—” he paused, swallowing “—that you might wait for me.”

  “Wait for you,” I repeated, trying to get my mind around the words. Of course I would wait, the same as his parents and siblings. Wait and hope and pray. But there was a deeper note to his voice, more deliberate. He was talking about something bigger.

  “Wait, and be my girl,” he clarified, erasing any doubt. “I know it’s hardly fair of me to ask.”

  “I want to. I’ve always wanted to.”

  “Then I guess that it’s settled.” An awkward moment passed between us and he kissed me, his embrace purposeful and strong, because now it all was real.

  I pulled back, struggling to catch my breath. “Should we tell them?” Charlie whispered, his breath warm against my ear.

  For a moment, I was puzzled: he had just insisted on not telling his parents about the army. But he was talking now about the two of us being together, not his enlistment. I considered the question. I wanted to savor the newness of whatever this was between us. I wasn’t ready to face the scrutiny of our families.

  “We have to tell them, don’t we?” he continued, not waiting for an answer. “Dad will be thrilled. Mom, too, I think, though she’ll be more worried about you than anything. And the boys should be okay with it, as long as I’ll still share you.” It was thrilling and terrifying, the notion of saying this aloud and acknowledging it in the light of day. Surely it would change everything. But things were already changing, weren’t they?