“So all these lines are yours?” I asked, making sure to use the correct terminology.
Nolan nodded. “Yep. This is what I do on rainy days to kill time or when it’s dead around here.”
“Pretty impressive.”
“Here.” He handed me the untied line. “I’ll show you how to make a bowline. George will be blown away if he sees you doing this. The only thing the other girl learned to tie was her phone charger cord around her finger while she took selfies.”
I held the two ends of the line, one in each hand, and Nolan guided me through the steps.
“The rabbit comes out of the hole,” he began, with the rabbit being the end I had to slip through a loop I formed along the remaining length of the line. “Then the rabbit goes around the tree and then jumps back into the hole.”
My bowline didn’t look half bad. I pulled on the line and the noose slid closed. “Please tell me you didn’t make up the whole rabbit story because you didn’t think I’d understand the more technical version.”
“Nope, that’s the same way I learned it. A rabbit, a hole, and a tree—that’s about as technical as I get.”
I slipped the line out just like I’d watched Nolan do, and my secure knot easily dissolved.
“See, you’re a natural. By the end of the summer, you’ll be able to do all of these.” He swept his hand toward the wall where his handiwork hung. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know—two half hitches, roller knots, a clove hitch—”
“I already did that on the dock, right?”
“That was a cleat hitch. A clove hitch is totally different. Oh, I have so much to teach you.” He let out an exhausted sigh, but I could tell he was teasing me. “But first, there’s a twenty-foot Boston Whaler pulling up to the fuel dock, and I think it has your name on it.”
I jumped to my feet and saluted him. “Aye aye, Captain.”
Nolan smiled. “You’ve come a long way from your Girl Scout days.”
“Full disclosure, I was a horrible Girl Scout. Couldn’t even make it past Brownies because I literally did not earn a single badge. I think my mom took it harder than I did.”
“I didn’t figure you for a slacker.”
“Did you really quit Boy Scouts?”
“When you’re rushed to the hospital for five stitches in your forehead while trying to earn your gardening badge, it’s time to give up the dream.”
• • •
“Whatcha doing?” Lucy asked as she and Josie flopped down on either side of me.
“Watching an instructional video,” I told them, making room on the bed so they could see my laptop screen, where an overweight, white-bearded man narrated step two of a square knot.
“Why is Santa wearing a tank top that says Don’t give up the ship?” Josie asked.
“That’s Boater Bob, and he’s teaching me how to tie a square knot.”
I thought they’d have more questions, but Josie and Lucy seemed satisfied with my answer, and the three of us finished watching Boater Bob. They probably figured it was part of my job training, but really the only lines I ever had to tie were the ones on the dock, and by the end of day two at the marina, I’d completely mastered a cleat hitch.
When Boater Bob gave us a thumbs up and signed off, I closed my laptop and pushed it toward the end of my bed. “Where were you guys?”
“In town.” Lucy handed me a bag. “Peanut butter fudge, want some?”
She didn’t have to ask me twice. I reached in and took a square.
“So what’s your work schedule?” Josie wanted to know. “It would be nice if we could actually do something together.”
“I found out today that I’m off every Wednesday and Thursdays until noon.”
“We’ll never see you,” Lucy complained. “We’re off Tuesdays and every other Monday.”
“I could ask George to switch my days,” I offered. “But I’m not sure it would do any good.”
“Well, Boss Man isn’t exactly flexible when it comes to our schedules,” Josie moaned, as if I needed reminding. “I think he’s afraid all the other employees will think he’s giving us special treatment.”
“If special treatment is getting assigned to garbage duty every night, I could do without it.” Lucy took the bag back from me and helped herself to her own square of fudge.
“Are you going to see Luke on your first day off?” Josie asked me.
“Probably. But not until next week, because George thinks I should have a full week of experience before earning any sort of reprieve.”
“Sounds like we won’t be able to do anything together until, what, next Thursday morning?” Josie emphasized the morning part, making it sound even shorter than it was. And earlier. Then she rolled off my bed and stood up. “I’m going to take a shower before work.”
I waited for Lucy to say something about my schedule and how I should stay here with them on my first day off instead of going to see Luke.
But Lucy didn’t say anything and she didn’t move. Neither did I.
When we heard the sound of the shower, Lucy turned on her side to face me. “Remember Eager Beaver?” she asked.
“Of course I do.” How could I forget the matted brown stuffed beaver with a velvet quilted paddle tail? I’d always thought it was sort of odd that Lucy didn’t have a teddy bear or a stuffed Minnie Mouse from Disney World, like most girls. She had a semiaquatic rodent. A cute, cuddly, friendly rodent, but still a rodent (so is Minnie but for some reason that polka dot bow makes all the difference).
“Well, when I got him, his fur was all plush and thick, and I thought his suede nose felt exactly like a real beaver’s nose would feel, except it wasn’t wet.”
“I didn’t know his nose was suede.”
“Of course you didn’t. It was so soft I used to rub it all the time and eventually it just wore away. Did you know he had two little white felt buck teeth?”
“I always thought it was weird that a beaver had no teeth.”
“They fell out after a few years.” Lucy paused and ran her finger along her upper lip, like she was trying to remember exactly where Eager Beaver’s teeth fell out and if she’d saved them for the Tooth Fairy. “Anyway, you see what I’m saying?”
“Eager Beaver had poor dental hygiene?”
“His teeth fell out because I couldn’t stop playing with them. I’d flick them back and forth and curl them up under his lip and rub them between my fingers. But that wasn’t the point ... actually, you totally made me forget my point.”
I had a hard time seeing how there was even a reason Lucy was telling me this, but I let her retrace her train of thought and waited for her to figure it out.
“Okay! Yeah, my point was something like this—I loved Eager Beaver so much, I basically turned him into a balding, toothless, deflated piece of roadkill.”
Now she’d completely lost me. “Are you reminiscing about a stuffed animal, or are you trying to teach me some profound lesson?”
Lucy shook her head. “I have no idea. It sounded right when I started, but now I’ve totally confused myself. What I was trying to say was this: After a few years, Eager Beaver looked nothing like he did when I got him for my birthday, but he was still Eager Beaver. Not exactly as adorable as the day I got him, but still the same to me, even if my mom tried to throw him in the trash because she said he was probably filled with dust mites.”
“I bet Patty told her that.”
“Probably, but thankfully I won that battle.”
I realized I hadn’t seen Eager Beaver on Lucy’s bookshelf since I moved back to Branford. “Hey, Luce, what happened to Eager Beaver?”
“Let’s just focus on the deep and insightful lesson you’re taking away from this.”
“But I’m still wondering what happened to Eager.”
“Fine. My mom finally tossed him in the trash because the doctor said he may be contributing to my allergies.” Lucy sat up and crossed her legs. “See how this relates to you and Luke?”
r /> “That’s what I’m supposed to be getting from this? If I play with Luke’s front teeth too much, they’ll fall out?”
Instead of laughing as I’d hoped, Lucy frowned at me. “I think you know what I’m saying.”
I knew Lucy thought her point was pretty clear, but I decided there were two ways I could see the Eager Beaver situation. The one I preferred was that, no matter how much someone changes or how circumstances make things different on the outside, inside they’re still the same person. I had a feeling, though, that Lucy intended me to take away the other point, which wasn’t something I wanted to learn at all: Eventually, no matter how important something is to you, even the things you love the most can end up not being good for you.
Long-Distance Relationship Tip #20:
Communicate regularly and creatively.
And by “creatively” I mean pictures, videos, and the like.
Not mind reading.
If there’s one thing I know, it’s how to be a good house guest. My mom’s book, Open Invitation: How to Visit When You Want to Be Invited Back, was a national best seller, and I lived through the mania of Ten Tips for Exceptional Guests when it was licensed to a towel company, who embroidered the tips on towels and sold them in every department store across the country.
Before leaving for the marina, I always washed my yogurt spoons or cereal bowl and laid them in the dish rack beside the sink to dry (at an early age, I learned that Cheerios have the same adhesion properties as cement if you let them sit around too long). I made my bed, put in a load of laundry that I collected from around our room, and closed the front door so silently when leaving, you would have thought I had a future in the fine art of home invasion.
It’s funny how quickly something new can become routine. After a few days of waking up at six o’clock, my body stopped fighting and gave in to crawling out of bed at such an ungodly hour. I’d whittled my morning activities down to an impressive fifteen minutes—I could brush my teeth, shower, and dress without even checking the time, although it helped that dressing for work meant grabbing a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I could feel my way around our bedroom in the dark without tripping over the spot where the edge of the area rug met the hardwood floor or grabbing the wrong pair of flip-flops, and knew I’d be downstairs in the kitchen by six fifteen and out the door by six thirty. It made me wonder if, with enough time, eventually everything loses its novelty, not because it ceases to be new, but because we adjust and it becomes normal. What once seemed inconceivable doesn’t just become possible, it becomes acceptable. And I accepted that my days would begin before the average person even rolled over to check the time, that my hands would reek of fuel, and that I’d become immune to the sight of lifeless, pucker-mouthed fish sealed in Ziploc bags.
I didn’t complain when George said I shouldn’t take my first days off, because it was almost mid-July and I needed the paycheck. But by the time my first Wednesday off finally rolled around, I was ready for a break.
I slept later than I had since I’d moved into the Holdens’ house for the summer. For the first time, I was going to catch the ferry from Falmouth directly into Edgartown, which was closer than leaving from Woods Hole, so I could ride my bike and keep it there for my trip back. Unlike the ferry from Woods Hole, the Falmouth ferry only carried passengers, and it ran just a few times a day, leaving every two and a half hours. My morning choices were an eight thirty or an eleven, and even though I couldn’t wait to get to the island to see Luke, I decided a few extra hours of sleep were worth getting there a little later.
I slipped out of bed around ten and tiptoed to the bathroom so I wouldn’t wake Josie or Lucy. When I returned—showered, teeth brushed, and ready to go as soon as I got dressed—they were both sitting up in their beds waiting for me. For a minute, it occurred to me that this might be some sort of intervention. Maybe they were still going to try to get me to stay.
“It’s still early,” I whispered, making my way over to my bed, where I’d laid out my possible outfits for the day. I hadn’t been able to decide between a sundress or shorts and a tank top, not that it would make a difference to Luke. But it wasn’t really Luke I was thinking of as I assessed my two options. It was Sam.
Luke and I hadn’t talked about her since my first visit, almost as if we’d mutually decided she was the third rail we should avoid. When we spoke on the phone, Sam’s name was almost conspicuously absent as Luke shared stories about his days on the Vineyard. Unless he told me, I didn’t know who waited in line with him at Back Door Donuts or how he got there. Without ever saying it out loud, I think we both decided it was easier to pretend Sam had nothing to do with us, that she didn’t mean anything, than try to figure out how or why she seemed to mean so much.
Luke had offered to talk to Sam about her sneak attack in the kitchen, and I’d said no—not because their closeness didn’t bother me, but because I didn’t want Sam to know that it did. Today, it was just going to be me and Luke. I’d planned it that way, and Luke had quickly agreed, even if it meant taking a bus around the island with a bunch of visiting tourists instead of being transported in a car.
“Sorry if I woke you, you can go back to sleep,” I told them. They should have turned over and gone back to sleep by now.
Josie stretched her arms high above her head and let out a high-pitched squeal as she arched her back like a cat. “We’re not going back to bed.”
“We’re going with you,” Lucy added.
“You’re what?” I asked.
“We’re going with you!” Lucy threw her covers off and jumped onto my bed. “Surprise!”
“You are? For the whole day?” I pushed my outfits onto the floor and joined Lucy, who was now curled up in a fetal position with her head resting on my pillow. They weren’t ambushing me, they were surprising me!
Josie was less of a morning person than Lucy, but she managed to make her way over to my bed and curled up next to us. “Of course for the whole day. We thought it was about time we actually did something fun together.”
There was hardly enough room for all three of us on my twin bed, and I was sure if anyone made the slightest move, Josie would be pushed over the slim inch of mattress keeping her from landing on the floor. Still, there was something about all being smooshed together like that, the way we used to crowd into the same bed in middle school on sleepovers. We’d always wake up the next morning with only one of us in the bed, the other two sprawled on the floor among the blankets and pillows we’d set up the night before because, even though none of us had wanted to admit it, at some point we’d give in and find our own space.
We were taller and bigger now, so fitting the three of us on a single bed required even more strategic placement of legs and arms. I was sandwiched in the middle and sharing my only pillow with them, which meant Josie’s hair tickled my face every time I inhaled.
I blew a piece of Josie’s hair away from my nose so I could breathe. “I thought you said your dad wouldn’t let you move your schedule.”
“He wouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean we can’t swap days with other people if they’re willing.”
Lucy wiggled her toes, and I wondered if it was because pins and needles were setting in and she was trying to keep them from falling asleep.
“Alyssa and Mariah offered to switch when we told them we wanted to go with you.” Josie wedged her knee against mine as she tried to get comfortable.
“I’ve only been to the Vineyard once, so I can’t wait.” Lucy started to rotate her left ankle in counterclockwise circles, which made me pretty sure I was right about her foot falling asleep. “Are you surprised?”
“Are you happy?” Josie asked before I could answer Lucy.
“Are you kidding me, of course I am, surprised and happy.”
If I wasn’t acting thrilled, it wasn’t for the reason Josie and Lucy probably suspected. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to spend my day off with them, or that I wanted to keep Luke to myself. The idea of spending the
day with all of them was amazing, I just wasn’t so sure that Luke would agree.
I was happy and surprised, and also relieved. Until I’d heard that I wouldn’t be walking into Melanie’s house alone, I hadn’t realized how much I dreaded the possibility of running into Sam—of having her look at me like I was not just an unwelcome visitor in her home, but someone who needed to be removed from Luke’s life. Suddenly knowing Josie and Lucy would be there made me feel like I had protectors on my side, reinforcements. With Lucy and Josie there, Sam was outnumbered.
Josie stuffed her hand under my pillow and grabbed a fistful of memory foam to keep her balance. “Of course, we’d be lying if we said we weren’t curious about meeting Sam.”
Lucy smacked Josie’s leg with her foot. “Don’t say that.”
“What? It’s true.”
“Fine, it’s true,” Lucy admitted. “But even if Sam wasn’t there, we’d still want to go with you.”
“Well, you better get ready if we’re going to make the eleven o’clock ferry,” I told them, and then remembered a huge bonus to having Lucy and Josie go with me. “Does this mean we’re taking your car to the ferry?”
“It sure does.” Josie began untangling our arms and legs as she slid down the side of the bed. “No bike for you today.”
As if it wasn’t enough that they’d swapped work schedules to surprise me with our first real day together, or that they’d be there and have my back if I had to come face to face with Sam again, now Josie was going to drive us to the ferry. Today was going to be better than I ever planned.
Long-Distance Relationship Tip #24:
Your life is not a Disney movie, you are not a Disney princess, and nobody ever really shows up on anyone’s doorstep to surprise them with a bouquet of flowers. This is a good thing. You’ll never have to eat a poisoned apple, cook for seven dwarfs or wear glass slippers that pinch like hell.