Part 28 (1/2)

”No, thanks,” I said. Next door, the boys climbed out of the pool and ran into the house, and I was relieved to be able to give up my self-imposed lifeguarding.

”You've got yourself labeled again, don't you?” Mr. Chapman said.

”What do you mean?” I asked.

”I mean, you used to call yourself 'the Nancy Drew Girl,'” he said. ”'The Adventure Girl.' Now you're 'the Scared Girl.' You don't have to stay that way, you know.”

”He has a point,” Ethan said.

It was strange the effect Mr. Chapman's few simple words had on me. You don't have to stay that way. You don't have to stay that way.

”Maybe I'll go,” I said, not quite ready to commit to the possibility but suddenly ready to consider it.

Mr. Chapman left right after lunch, and Ethan and I stood in the front yard, watching him drive away.

”You ready for that boat ride?” Ethan asked, putting his arm around me.

I made a face that clearly said I don't think so. I don't think so.

”How did you feel when you were a kid and went out in your boat?” he asked.

I thought about it for a minute. ”Free,” I said. ”Until that last night. That changed everything.”

He used his arm to turn me around and we headed through his side yard toward the dock. ”That was 1962,” he said. ”It's a new century now. Come on.”

I let myself be led to the edge of the dock. Ethan began to untie the boat from the hooks on the bulkhead. I watched, remembering how my runabout's damp, fibrous rope used to feel in my fingers. Grandpop had taught me many different knots. I bet I still remembered them all.

Ethan was on the other side of the dock. ”Go ahead and hop in,” he said. ”I'll be right in after you.”

I looked down at the boat's camel-colored interior. It swayed slightly on the wake of a motorboat that had just pa.s.sed through the ca.n.a.l, and watching the seats move up and down made me light-headed. But I did it. I sat down on the bulkhead, caught the gunwale with my bare feet and slipped in. My heart was pounding as if I were standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon. I lowered myself quickly to the front pa.s.senger seat and clutched the side of the boat.

Ethan jumped into the boat with ease and took his seat behind the wheel. The smell of oil and gasoline mixed with the scent of the water. I used to like that smell. I breathed it in, wondering if I could learn to like it again.

”You okay?” Ethan smiled at me.

I nodded.

Putting the boat in Reverse, he backed into the ca.n.a.l, then took off in the direction of the river. I was quiet and anxious, one of my hands still holding on to the side of the boat as we approached the new-to me, anyway-Lovelandtown bridge. This bridge was higher than the old one and the pilings were much farther apart, so that we sailed beneath it with ease. We pa.s.sed houses that were unfamiliar to me, having been built or remodeled since the last time I'd traveled the length of the ca.n.a.l, and I welcomed that unfamiliarity. We exited the ca.n.a.l and sped into the open water of the Manasquan River. The hot, damp air whipped my hair around my face and a spray of water cooled my eyes, and I found that those sensations brought back not the night I lost my sister, but rather the hours upon hours of fun I'd had in my little boat.

I studied Ethan's face as we cut across the surface of the water. In his profile, I could still see the boy who'd dissected crabs and kept eel guts in alcohol and lay on his stomach in the reeds, examining marine life in the shallows. Who could have guessed I would be here with him now, enjoying him, wanting him, loving loving him? him?

I swallowed hard, suddenly hoping that Ned would not not be found responsible for Isabel's murder after all. It was going to hurt Ethan far too much. be found responsible for Isabel's murder after all. It was going to hurt Ethan far too much.

He glanced over at me and smiled.

”You're lovin' this, aren't you,” he said. It was not a question.

I moved closer to him, putting my arm across the back of the seat.

”I'm lovin' you, you,” I said into his ear, and I leaned my head against his shoulder.

CHAPTER 34.

Julie.

Two nights later, my mother, sister, Ethan and I gathered at my house for a barbecue, the main purpose of which was to meet Tanner Stroh. I'd told everyone to arrive at six. It was now six thirty-five, and Shannon and the guest of honor had not yet arrived. I felt wound up as the minutes ticked by. If someone touched me in the wrong spot, I was going to unravel.

I carried the bowl of potato salad from the kitchen out to the porch. My mother sat at the head of the long, gla.s.s-topped table, slicing a few of the beautiful Jersey tomatoes she'd plucked from her garden and arranging them on a platter next to lettuce leaves and pickle slices. Outside on the patio, Ethan, who was wearing a blue-and-white-striped ap.r.o.n he'd brought with him, turned chicken and burgers on the grill. Lucy stood near him, nursing a gla.s.s of beer and chatting. I could tell she liked him-she'd given me a barely concealed thumps-up sign the moment he walked in the door-and I was glad.

My mother had greeted Ethan warmly in spite of the fact that I knew she had not wanted me to nurture a relations.h.i.+p with him. She seemed her usual feisty self tonight, which relieved me after the somber way she'd reacted to the news of Ned's letter the other day.

”Do you think it's too warm to eat outside?” I asked her now. It had seemed cooler earlier, but I was probably in the midst of a hot flash.

”It's fine.” She transferred the last tomato slice to the platter and set the knife on the cutting board. ”What time did you tell Shannon to come?” she asked.

”Six,” I said, lifting the cutting board and knife from the table.

”This young man of hers is going to make a poor impression, strolling in here late.” She took a sip of beer from the gla.s.s in front of her. She always said she liked to drink a cold beer about once a year, and apparently tonight was the night. ”I can't wait to grill him,” she said. She actually rubbed her hands together, as if she was talking about devouring some choice morsel of food, and I had to laugh.

”Well, let's try not to be too obvious about it,” I said over my shoulder as I carried the cutting board into the house.

I was back on the porch with the hamburger buns when I heard a couple of car doors slam out on the street.

”Maybe that's them now,” I said, placing the plate of buns on the table.

I heard voices in the side yard, and then Shannon appeared on the patio holding the hand of a tall, slender man. Mom and I walked outside to greet them. Tanner Stroh looked freshly showered with short, neatly cut dark hair. He wore khaki Dockers and a short-sleeved Hawaiian s.h.i.+rt in a muted blue pattern. There was a preppy look about him that I knew would be a turnoff to Lucy but which offered me some small bit of rea.s.surance.

He held his hand toward me. ”Hi, Mrs. Sellers,” he said. ”I'm so glad to meet you. I'm sorry we're late.”

”Not a problem,” I said, shaking his hand. ”I'm glad to meet you, too.”

Until that moment, I hadn't realized that I'd been expecting him to have numerous body piercings, baggy pants and long greasy hair. He did not not look like the artsy sort of guy Shannon was usually drawn to, but he was an attractive man nonetheless. Way too old for her, though. His hair was actually beginning to recede and I could see creases at the corners of his eyes. look like the artsy sort of guy Shannon was usually drawn to, but he was an attractive man nonetheless. Way too old for her, though. His hair was actually beginning to recede and I could see creases at the corners of his eyes.

Introductions were made all around, and I caught Shannon giving Ethan the same sort of scrutiny that I was giving Tanner, a fact which, I had to admit, made me smile. Everyone shook hands and uttered greetings in a respectful interchange. Tanner was cordial and courteous, and I thought of Eddie Haskell, the kid on Leave it to Beaver Leave it to Beaver who hid his sociopathic tendencies behind impeccable manners. who hid his sociopathic tendencies behind impeccable manners.

The food was ready. Ethan brought the platter of burgers and grilled chicken onto the porch and Lucy and I took drink orders. Tanner wanted a beer; Shannon, lemonade. I would be sure to monitor Tanner's alcohol intake. I realized it would be more than three years until Shannon could legally join him in a drink. She hadn't even had her driver's license for a year yet.

Once we were all seated at the table on the porch, it was my mother who got right down to the nitty-gritty.

”So,” she said, her attention squarely on Tanner. ”How did you let this happen?”

Surprised, Tanner opened his mouth to speak, but Shannon rescued him. Even I I felt ready to rescue him. My mother could sometimes lack tact. felt ready to rescue him. My mother could sometimes lack tact.

”It was my fault, Nana,” Shannon said. ”I forgot a pill.”

”It's not the best way to start out a future together, Mrs...” Tanner blanked on my mother's last name.