“In Quidnet,” Garrett said. “We’ll show you where. Later.”
Later, meaning after Beth explained herself. It was blackmail, but what did she expect? These were teenagers.
“Where’s Marcus?” Beth asked.
“He’s in town,” Winnie said. When Winnie saw the broken glass on the deck and then the urn right there on the kitchen table, she’d warned Marcus that there was going to be a confrontation, and without hesitation, Marcus said he would make himself scarce.
“Go ahead, Mom,” Garrett said. “Tell us.”
It was nearly impossible to explain the romance of that sixth and final summer of Beth and David. But maybe not-because here were her twins, each experiencing love for the first time. Still, Beth feared she wouldn’t be able to convey the heat and light, the depth and weight of her love for David. It was their sixth summer together; they were each twenty-one. When they rejoined in late May they realized that they had grown into adults, or almost. David had moved out of his parents’ house and he rented the cottage on Bear Street. Beth was given full use of her grandfather’s Volkswagen bug, which still ran, though barely. It was the perfect summer. David worked as a painter six days a week from seven until three; Beth didn’t work at all. While David painted, Beth ran errands for her mother, helped out around the house, and sat on the beach in front of Horizon. Then at three o’clock, she disappeared. Beth’s mother was preoccupied with Scott and Danny, who, at fourteen and sixteen, were turning her hair white. Beth’s father flew in from the city every other weekend. And so Beth was free-she met David at his cottage at 3:15 and for her, the day began. They swam, they sailed, they went to the nude beach, and they raked for clams that they cooked up later with pasta for dinner. They went to bonfires and drank too much beer and fell into bed in the wee hours giddy and spinning. They made love.
David asked Beth to marry him in August. It was his day off, a Wednesday. Beth heard David rise early, before the sun was up, and when she opened her eyes, he was sitting on the edge of the bed holding a tray. A blue hydrangea in a drinking glass, a slice of cantaloupe, a bowl of strawberries. A bottle of Taittin-ger champagne.
“Whoa,” she said, sitting up. “What’s this?”
“Will you marry me?”
Beth laughed. She remembered wanting to open the champagne. She remembered David wrapping his hand around the back of her neck.
“I’m serious. I want to marry you.”
“I want to marry you, too.”
“Today.”
“What?”
“We’ll get dressed, we’ll go to the Town Building.”
“You’re a nut.”
“Next week, then. Next Wednesday. Will you marry me next Wednesday?”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes,” David said. “Bethie, I love you.”
Beth never actually said yes, but she never said no either. She got swept along by David’s enthusiasm and by her own desire to have the summer last forever. They were going to get married. But Beth couldn’t bring herself to inform her parents. She didn’t dare breathe the word “marriage” under Horizon’s roof.
Beth and David went to the hospital to have their blood tested. Beth bought a white sundress in town. She savored the tingly, secret excitement, the outlandish daring of it-she was getting married! They bought rings, inexpensive ones, plain gold bands, a hundred dollars for both.
The morning they were to be married, David rose early again. He returned with a huge handful of purple cosmos.
“Your bouquet,” he said.
Only when Beth saw the flowers did she have her first pang of regret for what had yet to happen. This was her bridal bouquet. The white crinkled cotton sundress hanging in the closet was her wedding dress. She and David were going to climb into the bug, bounce down the cobblestone street to the Nantucket Town Building and get married. David was absolutely glowing- he looked the way she always thought she would look on her wedding day. But it was a different wedding day that she’d dreamed of: six bridesmaids in pink linen dresses and six groomsmen in navy blazers. Her father walking her down the aisle. She hesitated. The trappings of a wedding didn’t matter. Who cared about a cocktail hour, a nine-piece band, chicken Kiev, and chocolate wedding cake? She took the flowers from David.
“They’re perfect,” she said.
Winnie and Garrett stared at her. Not in many years had she held them in this kind of rapt attention.
“Are you saying you knew you were about to make a mistake?” Winnie said.
“I had mixed feelings,” Beth said. “But you hear about cold feet all the time-a bride and groom are supposed to have cold feet. And I loved David. I was twenty-one years old. If I’d wanted to back out, I would have.”
When she emerged from the tiny bathroom in her white dress and rope sandals with the cork heels, David fell back on the sofa with his hand over his heart. “You look so beautiful you scare me,” he said. “God, Beth…” His eyes filled and Beth felt a swell of pride. This was exactly the kind of reaction she wanted from her husband on her wedding day. She wanted to bowl David over; she wanted to bring him to tears. Beth was pleased with how she looked-young and blond and very tan. The dress, while not a wedding dress, was perfect for a girl like her on a summer day. Her spirits lifted.
David drove into town but had trouble finding a parking space. It was overcast, and the town was filled with people lunching and shopping. Beth remembered being terrified that her mother would see her, or a friend of her mother’s. She squeezed the purple cosmos; they left gold dust all over her hands, and she had to wash up in the public restroom of the Town Building before the ceremony.
The wedding itself was unremarkable. A judge wearing Bermuda shorts married them in a room without windows. The room was empty except for a conference table and three folding chairs. The judge stood on the far side of the table, looking not so much like a judge as one of Beth’s father’s golf partners. Two male law students who were working in the probate court for the summer were brought in to witness, along with a secretary from the selectmen’s office. Those three strangers sat next to Beth and David in the folding chairs. The law students were just kids not much older than Beth and David, and they looked put upon for being asked to watch for ten minutes in the name of legality. The secretary was older, with kids of her own probably. She dabbed her eyes with a tissue as Beth and David said their vows. Before Beth knew it, it was over. She signed the marriage certificate, the judge in the Bermuda shorts kissed her cheek and said, “Congratulations, Mrs. Ronan.” He left shortly thereafter to meet his wife at the Yacht Club.
David and Beth went for lunch at the Mad Hatter, a place they went when David got a cash bonus for a painting job or when Beth’s father slipped her extra spending money before returning to New Jersey.
Their table, Beth noticed right away, had a centerpiece of purple cosmos, and there was a bottle of Taittinger chilling on ice. For reasons beyond her understanding, these details, arranged by David ahead of time, made her heart sink. He was trying so hard and yet it didn’t seem like enough. That was what Beth thought as she sat down. The two of them, alone for their wedding reception, didn’t seem like enough.
Beth drank nearly the whole bottle of champagne herself. Throughout lunch, David talked nonstop about plans: getting her things moved into the cottage, her finding a job, the fall and winter on Nantucket, a vacation in March-a belated honeymoon-to Hawaii or Palm Beach. Kids. (Kids! At the mention of kids, Beth laughed. She was a kid herself.) Beth ate a plate of fried calamari, then a lobster roll, then a hot fudge sundae since the restaurant didn’t have cake. A glob of hot fudge sauce hit the front of her white dress and she blotted it with a wet napkin, but to no avail. There was a spot; she was sullied. She reached for the champagne bottle, and finding it empty, waved their waiter over and ordered a gin and tonic. She felt David watching her. When she met his eyes, she saw so much love there it frightened her. She urged him to get the bill while she bolted her drink. When it was time to go, she had to grab onto the table in order to stand up. The ring irritated her finger. David led her out to the car, and when they got home they made love. Beth fell asleep before the sun even set.