“The baby is going to be put up for adoption,” Garrett said.
“And we’re going back to New York,” Winnie said. “That’s where we live.”
“But your father-”
“Dad would want us to go back to New York,” Garrett said. “And finish at Danforth.”
“Is here,” Beth said. “Your father is here.”
As if on cue, Garrett hit the turn signal and directed the car down the road to Quidnet. Beth sealed her mouth. She was losing her mind. Stay on Nantucket?Keep the baby?She was talking nonsense. She was trying to make these minutes in the car be about something other than what they were really about. They were really about going to see the place where Arch’s ashes were scattered. Thinking about the ashes meant thinking about the decision to cremate, those wretched days in the apartment with all the people drinking coffee and preparing Beth sandwiches that she couldn’t possibly eat. It meant thinking about the day the doorman called up to say she’d received a package and opening the box that contained the urn, sent to her via UPS like it was something she’d ordered from a catalog.
Garrett drove through a thicket of trees and then Beth saw a meadow and on the far side of the meadow, the harbor. The water shimmered in the late afternoon sun. Garrett pulled over. He opened the door and helped Beth out like she was an invalid.
“This is it,” Garrett said.
She couldn’t have wished for a more beautiful spot. It was flat and calm and quiet. It was everything a final resting place should be.
“All these years on Nantucket,” she said. “And I’ve never been here.”
“Dad and I discovered it,” Garrett said proudly.
Winnie and Garrett each took one of Beth’s hands and the three of them stepped out into the meadow. Beth bowed her head. Thank you, she said-to God or to Arch, she wasn’t sure- thank you for this, the most awful summer of our lives. As crazy and gut-wrenching as it was, we made it. We are stronger. We are closer. We are still standing here, together, a family.
To her children, she said, “When I die, will you bring my remains here?Will you put me here with Daddy?”
Winnie rested her head on Beth’s shoulder. “We don’t want you to die.”
“But when I do…”
“We’ll bring you here,” Garrett promised.
The next morning, Beth woke at six and went downstairs to tend to the last details of leaving: a note for Carl Drake, the caretaker, breakfast for the kids, all of the trash taken out. Beth looked at the ocean as often as she could. Impossible to believe that tomorrow it would be Park Avenue. But that, really, was the story of her life.
Marcus was the first one to come down.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he whispered. He was wearing the same white oxford cloth shirt he’d worn the day they arrived-Beth didn’t recall seeing it at any other time this summer. She closed her eyes and remembered opening the door to their apartment in New York and finding Marcus there, wearing this shirt, carrying his black leather duffel bag, which now was packed and waiting at the bottom of the stairs. The son of Constance Bennett Tyler, convicted murderer. But he was more than that, as Arch had promised. This was a fine young man- smart, considerate, good in a way that so few people were good anymore. When Beth opened her eyes, she realized how much she would miss him. He had become like a third child to her.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Beth asked. She wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that-all she knew was that she wanted to make the rest of Marcus’s life easier for him, as easy as his days on the beach here had been.
Marcus wondered if Winnie had said anything to Beth about the five hundred dollars, because her words sounded like an offer of money. But he’d already made up his mind to get a job as soon as he returned to Queens. He sat down at the kitchen table and let Beth pour milk on his cereal. “There’s no way I can thank you for this summer,” he said. “This summer saved me.”
“Oh, Marcus.”
“It gave me peace. And it gave me love.”
“Well, you gave us things, too, you know,” Beth said. “You gave us yourself.”
“That doesn’t seem like much in comparison,” he said.
Except it was. At that moment, Beth understood that Arch hadn’t invited Marcus to Nantucket for only Marcus’s sake. Arch had invited Marcus to Nantucket for all their sakes-Beth’s, Gar-rett’s, Winnie’s-so they could learn from him about character. About how to rise above.
“You have to promise to come see us,” Beth said. “You have to promise to let us know how you’re doing.”
“I will.” He dug into his cereal with gusto. All summer, Beth had loved to watch him eat because he was so enthusiastic about the food she put in front of him. She remembered with an ache in her throat the way he’d tied the bib around his neck before eating his first lobster. It was going to be a huge loss to have him leave their midst. She would wonder about him all the time; she would worry.
“We’re coming back here in March or April, when the baby is born,” she said. “Just for a week or so. Will you come back with us then?”
“I don’t know if Garrett wants me here,” Marcus said. “He might just want family.”
“Marcus,” Beth said. “You are family.”
Marcus smiled, gracing the room with his dimples. Beth could tell he felt as she did-that as long as there was a bright spot on the horizon, they might make it successfully through today.
“Sure,” he said.
And so they went: out to the car, which was packed to the top, once again. Garrett sat up front and Winnie and Marcus climbed in the back. Beth stood in the front door-first looking at the car and then turning and looking at the empty house.
“See you in the spring,” she said.
She locked the door and tucked the key under the mat.
The scene at Steamship Wharf was as chaotic as one would expect for Labor Day weekend. The standby line was twenty cars deep. Beth was grateful for her reservation. She pulled into a spot for ticketed cars and let the engine idle. They still had a few minutes before boarding.
“Do any of you want to use the bathroom before we get on the boat?” she asked.
No response. In her rearview mirror, she saw Winnie asleep on Marcus’s shoulder. Garrett was in outer space somewhere, and who could blame him?
A few minutes later, the car in front of theirs inched forward in anticipation. Beth herself was exhausted-she wanted to get the car onto the boat, then pull a pillow out of the back and sleep for an hour. The drive home was always so draining, followed by the torturous business of delivering Marcus to Queens, then unloading all of the stuff from the back of the car and hauling it onto the freight elevator of their building. How would she ever make it through the day?
Finally it was her turn to go. A steamship worker with a grizzled beard motioned her forward. Just before Beth drove up the ramp onto the boat, she saw David’s van and then David himself sitting on the bumper. Wearing khaki shorts, a green polo shirt, the flip-flops, sunglasses. Grinning at her, he lifted his coffee cup in her direction-a toast.