Page 31 of The Summer Club

“I don’t know. I think I want to have the baby.”

Her mother’s voice was shrill. “Well, of course you’re having the baby!” Cora had been raised Catholic and in her parents’ minds there was no other way. “You need to come home. Maybe the church can help. These days they have all kinds of places you can go until you have the baby. And find a nice home to adopt it. Your father will not be happy about this, of course. But don’t worry, honey; we can figure this out.”

“No, Mama, that’s the thing. I’m not sure, but I think I want to keep this baby.”

“With no job and no husband? Heavens, honey, you have to finish college.”

There was a sound in the background and Cora sensed her father had walked in during their call. “Hold on.” She could hear her mother cover the phone, the sound of muffled voices. Her stomach turned over. She was not ready to tell him. He would be livid, and he had a horrible temper.

“What in the hell?” Her father’s voice boomed through the phone. “Cora Anderson. Tell me this is not true.”

Cora started to cry. “Dad, I’m so sorry.”

“My God. What kind of mess did you get yourself into out there in New York?” He was furious. Not sympathetic, not even surprised. She should have known better. “I told your mother from the beginning, that art school out there in the East was a bad idea. All those liberal ideas. And look! Look what you went and did!” Cora held the phone away from her ear, tears streaming down her cheeks.

As she listened to her father rage, she thought about her mother, stuck in Lima all her life. Married to a man who did not like her “big ideas” for their daughter. About her steadfast belief in Cora. How her mother had secretly helped her fill out her application and write her college essay, and even walked her to the mailbox at the end of their long dirt driveway to send it off. All without telling Cora’s father. “I’ll handle him when you get in” was all she’d said.

Her father was still not done on his end of the call. But Cora was. Slowly, she lifted her free hand and let it hover over the switch hook before she made up her mind. The audible click signaled the end of that conversation.

As Cora hung up the phone, across campus there was a conversation of a different kind. Charley Darling, who’d never been in a fight in his life, waited with a clenched jaw for his roommate Robert to get back. When Robert eventually sailed through the door, his forehead still beaded with sweat from playing basketball down at the athletic center, Charley confronted him. Asked what his intentions were for Cora. Robert, shaking his head with a smile, had set his basketball down. “Intentions?” he said with a small chuckle. “Look, Charley, I don’t know what the girl told you, but she and I are over.”

“She’s pregnant, Robert. You two were in a relationship.”

“I’ve been in relationships with lots of girls, Charley. You should try it sometime.”

“But the baby?”

Robert peeled his sweaty shirt over his head. “Who’s to say it’s even mine?”

Before he could utter another word, Charley Darling threw the first punch of his life. The sound of his fist smashing Robert square in the nose was a sickening noise. One he would remember all his life. But never regret.

Now, from the looks of things in the living room, Cora could see that Nate Becker was exactly what her family needed. As she made her way downstairs, Cora thought she recognized a male voice. Sure enough, there stood Nate, in the middle of her kitchen, just like he had all those summers as a child. But instead of eating popsicles at the kitchen island, this time he was armed with a bottle of beer.

Had she not known the whole family was up in arms, there was no telling from the postcard scene before her. It was a party. Hugh was decked out in his favorite Nantucket Reds and a white polo, head thrown back in laughter. Sydney was perched on the edge of the slipcovered sofa in a pale blue maxi dress, the picture of youth as she listened ardently and tried to interject, which was hard to do among all the boisterous conversation. Her cheeks were flushed, leaving Cora to wonder how much wine she’d had. Molly and Martin were manning the cheese board at the island and Cora was pleased to see how engaged Molly was. She’d worried so much about her granddaughter that year, what with the divorce and all. But it was Andi who stole her gaze.

For the first time since her arrival, Andi looked herself. Effortless and lovely in a white shirtdress tied at the waist, her dark, curly hair falling about her shoulders. So different than the Andi who’d landed on the doorstep the day before. Chatting away with Nate, it was the most animated Cora had seen her in… how long? More than a year, she’d bet. Cora narrowed her eyes from her vantage point on the bottom step. Nate had grown into quite the handsome devil. She wondered how much of Andi’s sudden good cheer had to do with that not-so-small detail. Well, good for her.

As if they felt her presence in unison, her children’s heads turned.

“Mom. Don’t you look nice.” It was the most Hugh had said to her all day; when he came over and brushed her cheek with a kiss, Cora felt herself give. There was hope! But when she looked in Hugh’s eyes, there it was: the guarded vacancy he affected when angry. He was being polite in front of company. Well, she’d take it.

It was Nate whose welcome was pure warmth. He met her on the bottom step with a big hug. “Mrs. D! Great to see you again.” Cora smiled. Nate had always called her Mrs. D and she liked that he still did. Made her feel young again.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she told him, squeezing his hands. He had no idea how glad.

All day she’d harbored such skepticism, but the evening was off to an impossibly nice start. Cora kept stealing knowing looks with Charley. On the kitchen island were artfully arranged fruits and tiny, sweet yellow tomatoes and cheeses. And a bushel of oysters from Nate. “Fresh from the pier!” Everyone gathered like spectators as he commandeered the sink, produced his own shucking knife, and served the oysters straight up with lemon.

“Good Lord,” Andi said, tipping one back appreciatively. “So fresh and briny.”

Their bellies content with libations and snacks, they made their way leisurely out to the patio for dinner. Martin grilled clams and Hugh poached cod with butter and homemade tarragon aioli, the herbs straight from Cora’s kitchen garden. There was fresh corn from the farm in Orleans and Sydney arranged a Caprese salad with local mozzarella from the cheese shop in town.

“When did you go into town?” Cora asked, nibbling a piece of the mozzarella. It was what they always did together on the second day of vacation. No one had even asked her.

“Earlier today,” Molly said. “It was fun. I love cheese.”

So do I, Cora thought to herself. “I wish I’d known you were going,” she said, trying to keep the hurt from her voice.

Sydney raised one tanned shoulder as she drizzled balsamic glaze over the salad. “You guys weren’t around.”