Page 61 of The Summer Club

For a while they walked the remote stretch of Lighthouse Beach, the waves the only sound. Andi imagined it must be really late, but for once she didn’t feel tired at all. “So where exactly are you taking me?”

Nate laughed. “Yeah, it’s farther out than I remembered. Sorry about that.”

“No!” Andi insisted. “I’m enjoying the hike. Just making sure you aren’t abducting me or leaving me out here in the wilds. This would be the place to do it.”

“Not tonight,” Nate teased. “Have you heard of the dune shack?”

Andi shook her head.

“No?” Nate was surprised. “Wow, I know something in Chatham that the Darling family doesn’t? This is too good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. It’s just that your family has such ties to this place. To Chatham and Riptide. Growing up here in the summers I always felt like a newcomer by comparison. But in a good way. You guys showed me around, taught me all the cool spots.” He grinned at her. “Now it’s my turn.”

It made her think of Riptide. And all that had happened. “Did Hugh tell you about the beach house?”

“About your grandmother giving it to Sydney?” He looked empathetic and guilty all at once. “I didn’t want to say anything unless you did.”

“It’s not like it’s a secret.” Then she laughed at the absurdity of what she’d just said. “Did Hugh tell you about the thing that was a secret?”

Nate cocked his head. “I don’t think so…”

“Well, good thing it’s a long walk.” As they worked their way along the water’s edge, Andi filled Nate in. Not just on Tish’s “wedding gift” to Sydney, that had shocked them all, but to the real shocker—the revelation of the family secret surrounding their biological father. By the time they stopped near the point of South Beach, Nate was still struggling to wrap his mind around it. “So let me get this straight. Your dad isn’t your biological dad? And you guys are just finding out about that now?”

Andi stared at her bare feet, which she could almost make out in the moonlight. “Pretty much. Crazy, isn’t it?” Talking about it to someone outside the family made it real. “You’re the first person I’ve told this to.”

Nate grabbed both her hands. “Andi, I’m so sorry you’re going through all of this. But I’m touched. That you told me.”

“Well, you’re a family friend. And kind of like a brother, so…”

“Like a brother?” Nate cringed. “Yikes. I didn’t see that coming.”

Andi could’ve kicked herself. “No! Not like a brother, at all. I meant that you’re someone I grew up with and you were one of Hugh’s best summer friends, that’s all. Back then I thought of you like that.”

“And now?” Nate’s voice was soft, his tone more serious.

“Nothing like a brother.” This time Andi leaned in and kissed him. There it was again, that soft, sweet pull each time their lips met.

After a moment Nate stepped back, and for a second she feared she’d blown it. He looked at her intently. “Still not a brother, right?”

This time they both laughed and she swatted his arm. “C’mere,” he said, leading her up toward the sand dunes. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

At first Andi was confused. As they climbed there was nothing to see beyond the dune grass. But then, in the dimly lit distance, a small, rambling structure came into focus against the horizon. Andi squinted. This section of Lighthouse Beach was notably remote and wild, protected by the Cape National Seashore; beyond the sand and surf there was nothing else around. “What is that? A clubhouse?”

Nate quickened their pace. “Come and see.”

Sure enough, as they got closer, the low-lying structure took shape. It was a ramshackle wooden outbuilding of sorts. But raw and wild and open, like the land surrounding it. They halted in its sandy front yard, if you could call it that. The shack was flanked on either side by a crooked fence constructed of driftwood and salvaged sections of beach fencing. A tangle of old buoys hung from it like haphazard Christmas ornaments. In the center there was erected a tall pole from which flew a small American flag. “This is crazy. How did this get here?”

“Flotsam and jetsam,” he said appreciatively. “The ocean built it.” Nate watched her walk around it, inspecting each nook and cranny. “Everything here was washed ashore by storms and sort of cobbled together.”

“By whom?”

Nate shrugged. “Unofficial caretakers, I guess you could say. Locals. Wash-a-shores, like us. People who love Chatham and wanted to preserve it as a little sanctuary of sorts.”

“And yet I’ve never even heard of it.”

“It first showed up about six years ago and has turned into quite the local legend. Pretty iconic, isn’t it?”