Page 9 of A Nantucket Season
Greta smiled knowingly.
“Do you still paint?” Aurora asked.
“I haven’t painted in years,” Greta said, “although I recently got back into writing again. It’s been remarkable to dig into the back alleys of my brain and figure out what’s going on in my head. Then again, it’s been a little scary, too.”
Aurora laughed. “I know what you mean.”
“Anyway,” Greta went on, “I wanted to let you know that we’re here to support your art and your music in any way that we can. If you need more supplies or feedback on your work or if you find yourself mentally blocked, just let us know if we can do something. We want to take you to the next level creatively.”
“I really appreciate that.”
“Do you have any idea of what you’d like to work on while you’re here? A grander theme that you want to explore?” Greta asked.
Aurora again returned to the mental image of her mother, especially the very last day she’d ever seen her— how hollow her eyes had been. How upset she’d looked.
“I’m not sure,” Aurora lied.
“It’s a process,” Greta assured her, standing up. “I’d better run. My grandsons are always hungry, it seems like. It’s best to get them going with a huge breakfast before they eat every single snack in the house.”
Aurora laughed, thanking Greta as she headed out. Just before she turned down the hallway, however, she gazed at Aurora for a little longer than maybe she should have, as though she’d recognized something in her face. After a moment, she shook her head, as though dismissing a thought. “Looking forward to seeing how your work progresses. See you soon.”
With Greta gone, Aurora returned her attention to the canvas, swirling blacks, blues, and greens in violent motions. But none of it seemed to go anywhere, and by the time three o’clock rolled around, she felt she’d produced the very worst painting in the world. Shame spiraled in her gut, and she stood and paced the studio, reminding herself that this was her single chance to make it in the art world. That if Greta and Bernard didn’t appreciate what she did here, she would be lost.
Before she knew what she was doing, Aurora abandoned her canvas and headed out of the house to stroll the beach, her hands in the pockets of her dress and her hair whipping in the salty breeze. With no idea of where she was headed, she charged ahead, her heart pumping, trying to remember what it was that had made her “unique,” artistically, in the eyes of the Copperfields in the first place.Why had they picked her to come?
As Aurora walked, lost in a nightmare or a dream, she found herself drawing closer and closer to what looked like the harbor. Sailboats shifted against docks while tourists strolled up and down the boardwalk licking ice cream cones, and buskers played guitars and sang songs that everybody had heard a million times— creating the soundtrack of the summer.
Aurora joined the crowds, watching mothers and fathers wrangle their children, lovers walk hand-in-hand, and groups of women, all in summer dresses, giggle and gossip, adjusting their sunglasses. Everywhere she looked, Aurora was reminded that she’d never been a part of anything save for the relationship she’d had with her mother. Disheartened, she stopped at an ice cream shop and ordered pistachio gelato, which she ate too slowly so that the cream melted along her hand. As she tried to clean herself up, a voice rang out from her left, and she turned, bug-eyed, thinking that maybe she’d imagined it. After all, she was in a place she’d never been, surrounded by people she would never know.
But then, a familiar face appeared in the crowd, smiling. It was Brooks, the fisherman who’d saved her life yesterday, fresh off the fishing boat, still in his uniform. As he adjusted his hat, he rushed through the crowd, as though he couldn’t get to her quickly enough.
“Hi,” Aurora said nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I can’t believe I ran into you already,” Brooks said. “But that’s what this island is all about. Just a tiny community of people who can’t leave each other alone.”
Aurora laughed.
“I see you got an ice cream?” Brooks narrowed his eyes, then added, under his breath, “But you went to the wrong place. Margorie’s Ice Cream is the very best. We’ll have to go some time.”
“My mistake,” Aurora joked. “If only I would have known.”
“You’re new,” Brooks said. “But don’t worry. I can show you the ropes. You’ll act like a local in no time.”
Aurora smiled serenely, realizing that all the erratic feelings she’d had since leaving The Copperfield House had fallen away. She breathed easier.Was it because of Brooks? But that was irrational, wasn’t it?They’d only just met.
Brooks studied her, ruffling his black hair with his fingers. “Listen, I’m sure you have to get back to your artist residency.”
“Not really.” Aurora had begun to dread going back to her canvas as she felt her own artistic instincts diminishing and was terrified she’d never make anything good again.
Brooks brightened. “Would you like to grab a coffee or something?” A split second later, he added, “We didn’t really get a chance to talk yesterday.”
Aurora’s chest burned with confusion. On the one hand, Brooks was kind, funny, and tremendously handsome— all things that made her heart flip over. But on the other hand, she knew better than to pursue romance. It wasn’t healthy.
“I don’t know,” Aurora admitted.
Brooks’ smile fell. He looked like a puppy at the animal shelter, one nobody wanted. “That’s okay,” he said, trying to keep his voice upbeat. “I’m sure I’ll see you around, Aurora.” He then turned on his heel and began to walk in the opposite direction.
Aurora studied him for a long time, her feet frozen to the boardwalk, her hand still sticky from her ice cream. As he got smaller and smaller and the teeming crowd swallowed him up, Aurora’s knees shivered beneath her, and tiny black spots filled her vision. Suddenly, she burst forward, hurrying through tourists, nearly killing herself when she tripped on a bench she didn’t see quickly enough. As she staggered forward, she reached out and touched Brooks’ shoulder, her brain aflame with fears and questions.Why was she doing this?