Ari laughed. “Did you catch it?” Ari asked as she settled in a chair.

  “I plead the Fifth,” said Beck. He handed her a glass of prosecco. “Welcome.”

  Ari raised her glass and sipped the tiniest amount possible. She’d done research on drinking during pregnancy, and according to an article from Harvard, drinking in late pregnancy was bad, but during the first three months was not dangerous if the mother didn’t drink much or often. Ari was determined to make this glass last the entire meal. She could say that she was feeling rocky after the crossing, and that was true. At every moment, she wanted to interrupt him, to tell him, but Beck had clearly gone to a lot of trouble for this meal.

  First, baked oysters in spinach and cheese. Next, Beck quickly sautéed scallops in butter, and Ari thought she’d never eaten such sweet scallops in her life. Finally, clam chowder thick with bacon, onions, potatoes, cream, and clams. Beck sliced a newly baked baguette from a local bakery to dip into the chowder. Ari moaned as she ate. The small green salad served on the side plate was a perfect companion to the chowder. In the past month, she either couldn’t bear to eat or she couldn’t stop eating.

  “You’re not drinking your wine,” Beck said. “Would you like a glass of water?”

  “Please.” Ari put down her spoon. She clasped her shaking hands beneath the table. She couldn’t avoid it any longer.

  “Thank you,” she said when Beck set the glass, filled with water and lots of ice cubes, at her place. She drank deeply, with her eyes closed, saying a little prayer that the next few moments wouldn’t be too horrible.

  “I have to tell you something, Beck,” she said, her voice trembling.

  Beck smiled slightly. “Okay.”

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Beck rocked back in his chair as if punched. “Wow.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I guess I’ve been hoping it would all, somehow, disappear. And, Beck, I like you so much…” She bit her lip. “I’m trying not to cry. I know it’s not fair if I cry.”

  Beck asked, “Do you want to tell me who the father is?”

  Ari nodded. “Peter Anderson is the father. I told you about him. He’s been the only serious man in my life. I was going to marry him this summer. It happened three days before I broke off with him, at the end of May. I knew I was going to break off with him, but he was so stressed, I couldn’t tell him then. I’d only just gone off my birth control pills…”

  Talking had settled her, calmed her. She took another sip of water and crossed her arms on the table, gently pushing the empty bowl of chowder away.

  “He was, understandably, upset when I ended it. Angry. Hurt. I came to the island to stay with my grandmother, having no idea I was pregnant.”

  Ari looked down at her hands. “I met you before I knew. I sailed with your family and had dinner with you and I did know by then, but I hadn’t really processed it. Plus, so many people come to the island and have summer romances and then it’s all over in September.” Ari looked up and met Beck’s eyes. “I’m falling in love with you, Beck, and it’s the absolutely wrong time. I’ve messed this all up. I’m so sorry.”

  Beck looked at her steadily. “Have you told Peter?”

  “Yes. It was awful. I drove to Boston two weeks ago and told him. He was angry. He wants nothing to do with a child, if I go through with the pregnancy, but he said he’d pay half for an abortion.” Ari’s lips quivered in a weak, wry smile. “That’s so Peter. To pay for exactly half of something.”

  They were silent for a moment.

  “Are you going to have the baby?” Beck asked.

  “I am,” Ari said, and burst into tears. “I don’t know why, but I am. I love children. I know I’ll be a good mother. It’s not so very strange these days for a woman to have a baby on her own and raise it on her own. Lots of single women do it.”

  “Do your parents know?”

  “Ha. My parents. No, they don’t know. They’re having their own problems. My grandmother Eleanor knows. I’m sure she’ll help me somehow. I’ll have to postpone my work toward a master’s degree. As for the rest…I haven’t figured it all out yet.” She looked at Beck, desperation in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Beck. I’m so sorry. It was like nothing I’ve ever known, meeting you, being with you. I know I should have told you sooner, and stopped seeing you.” She dropped her head in her hands and cried.

  Beck didn’t reach to touch her, and she was glad. It was too confusing. She willed herself to stop crying. After a moment, she wiped her eyes and looked at him.

  Beck was looking at her, not with anger, and not with pity. “This is a lot to deal with. It’s certainly not how I thought this weekend would play out.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.”

  “Ari. You must know I have feelings for you, too. I don’t want to rush any decision. I’m having trouble getting my mind around this. But you are here, now, and I have tickets for the ballet tomorrow. There’s no reason we can’t spend this weekend together as friends. As for the future…let’s not think about it. Or, rather, of course we’ll be thinking about it, but let’s…” Beck gave a short laugh. “As a therapist, I’m bungling this. As a man, I’m completely at sea.” He grew serious. “Because to be with you would mean to act as father to another man’s child.”

  “To my child,” Ari whispered.

  “So here’s the plan. We’re going to be good friends this weekend. Tonight we’ll watch my favorite television series, Q.I., which stands for Quite Interesting. It’s a sort of quiz show where the panelists get points not for having the right answer but for having an answer that’s quite interesting. It’s funny, and it’s smart. Tomorrow we’ll go to Boston as planned, see the museums, have dinner, attend the ballet.”

  “That’s a good plan, Beck.” Ari took a deep breath. She had done it. She had told him. She had told him two things, actually, two enormous, significant things: that she was pregnant, and that she was falling in love with him. She was relieved that they could be friends for the weekend. She was glad, and sad, that she slept in Hen’s bedroom that night.

  Their day in Boston was perfect. At breakfast they were stiff, uncomfortable with each other, but by the time they were in the city, the awkwardness had passed. Beck was such an amiable, intelligent companion. He wore a lightweight navy blazer that set off his blue eyes. Ari wore a flowered summer frock that flounced when she walked and her amethyst necklace and earrings. It was fun to dress up after being in the sand and water five days a week. She saw people turn to look at him, or maybe, also, at her. He looked a bit like Prince William back when he had hair, and she looked like Kate Middleton. Kind of.

  They toured the Museum of Fine Arts, and then, such a change, the Museum of Science. They had a delicious meal at the Atlantic Fish Company. They talked about everything—their families, their school years, their friends.

  But when they were seated in silence at the Boston Ballet, Ari was miserable. She wasn’t moved by the swelling music or the exquisite performance of the dancers. She only wanted to leave the auditorium and run away from Beck’s car all the way to Logan Airport, where she could take a bus to Plymouth and a taxi to Beck’s house, and settle in her own car and drive herself back to Hyannis and take the car ferry home.

  The logistics of travel would drive a Gothic romance heroine mad, Ari thought, with an inner smile. She was sitting here being too dramatic. Probably because she was pregnant.

  Probably because last night she had told Beck she was pregnant.

  Tonight Ari and Beck sat side by side in the middle of a center row. She knew he was aware that her knee could so easily have touched his, and he could have so easily taken her hand, but that didn’t happen. She could feel how uneasy he was now, in the dark, so close. She knew that this weekend they could have made love for the first time, and become lovers. They could have talked about the future. Well, they had talked about the future. Now they were thinking about the future. Separately. It was a relief when the ballet ended.

  They listened to a local radio station on the drive back to Plymouth. It was after midnight when they returned to his house.

  “I would ask if you’d like a nightcap,” Beck said with a smile. “But…”

  A nightcap, Ari thought, and immediately an image flashed into her head, from a beautifully illustrated version of The Night Before Christmas: “And mamma in her ’kerchief, and I in my cap, / Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap…” It was all there, in the picture she’d studied as a child—the warm house, the children snug in their beds, their mother in a ruffled cap, their father in his stocking cap with a pom-pom on the end. If she could wave a wand, that would be her and Beck and this thimble-size baby inside her, and another child, one of theirs, together. But she had no magic wand. She was foolish to imagine such a sight.

  When she looked at Beck, she knew he saw the longing in her eyes, the desire, but she said, because she had to, “No, thanks, Beck. This was a wonderful day. I’m glad I spent it with you. I’m sorry I can’t…spend the night with you.”

  Ari wanted him to take her in his arms and say, I don’t care if you’re pregnant, I want to marry you and be with you forever because I’m wild with love for you.

  Beck said, “I enjoyed being with you, Ari. Have a good sleep.”

  He didn’t kiss her good night. She walked down the hall to the guest room in total misery, but when she was in her light summer pajamas, tucked between the cool cotton sheets, she fell asleep at once.

  * * *

  —

  She slept late the next morning. She showered, dressed, and found Beck at his desk in the third bedroom he used for an office.

  “Good morning,” he said. “Would you like some breakfast?”

  “Just toast. I can make it.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll make it. You’re my guest.”

  She followed him into the kitchen and sat at the table. He made fresh coffee and sat across from her. He wore board shorts and a rugby shirt. The hair at the back of his neck was damp from his shower. She wanted very much to touch him.

  “What time does your boat leave?” Beck asked.

  “I’m on the one-thirty back to the island,” Ari said.

  “I should have driven down and picked you up.” Beck stared at her steadily. “I’ll do that next time.”

  Ari’s breath caught. “Next time? Are you saying there will be a next time?”

  “I hope so.” Beck crossed his arms and leaned forward on the table. “Ari, nothing in my life has prepared me for, well, you. I really need time to let it sink in, not just that you’re going to have a baby in—when—February? Of course, I need to think about that. But what has happened between us, how I feel about you—it’s all been sudden, hasn’t it? I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you on the island with my sister, in front of the Hub. I saw you and I thought: ‘There she is.’ But I think I need time, we need time, to get to know each other better. Especially because an innocent child will be involved. I don’t know if I can do this. You probably don’t know what is right for you, either.”

  Ari reached over and softly clasped his warm, muscular arms. “Thank you, Beck. You are so smart, so good, and I want you so much…in so many ways.”

  “Let’s see where the summer takes us,” Beck told her.

  “Yes.” Regretfully, she took her hands away from his arms. She rose, went into the guest bedroom, and slung her duffel bag over her shoulder.

  Beck was at the front door. He was already holding it open. He smiled, a small, melancholy smile, took her bag from her and carried it to her car, put it in the hatch, and went to the driver’s-side door where she waited.

  “A thought,” Beck said. “Talk to your friends. Your closest friends, not only your grandmother, but your friends.”

  “Yes, I’ll do that,” Ari said.

  He bent to kiss her mouth, lightly, quickly, before standing straight and stepping back. He smiled, but his eyes were troubled.

  Ari was trembling. Automatically she got into the car, pulled the door shut, adjusted the seat, strapped on her seatbelt, checked the rearview mirror, and started the car. Beck stood steadily, his hand lifted in a gesture of farewell.

  * * *

  —

  Ari slept for the two hours and fifteen minutes it took the ferry to cross the sound and dock in Nantucket. She drove home in a stupor, feeling hungry and exhausted and guilty and cranky.

  The house was quiet. “Gram?” she called. A movement from the window caught her eye and she saw Eleanor with the garden hose, watering her flowers. The summer humidity had made her salt-and-pepper hair fly up in wispy twists all around her head. That’s how women become thought of as witches, Ari thought. Eleanor turned and saw Ari at the window and smiled like an angel.

  Ari unpacked while Eleanor finished the watering, then they both sat on the deck with glasses of sweetened iced tea, more ice than tea.

  “How was your visit?” Eleanor asked.

  “I told him I was pregnant,” Ari said. “The first night I was there, he had prepared a gourmet meal and served prosecco. I didn’t drink it, and…I told him.” Ari explained Beck’s reaction, the strange day in Boston and at the ballet, Beck’s kindness, and his hesitation.

  “I’m glad he needs to think things over,” Eleanor said. “You haven’t been together long—”

  “What can I do?” Ari asked.

  Eleanor thought a moment. “A man would have to be crazy or maybe slightly mental to say ‘Oh, my darling, I’ll marry you and be the father of your child’ when he’s known you only for, what, two months?”

  “I know,” Ari agreed.

  “So, we wait,” Eleanor said, her voice kind. “I have some news as well. No, it’s not about Silas. It’s about your mother. Cliff called me to say he was with her on a cruise to the St. Lawrence River.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Wait. Cliff told me your mother has a…boyfriend.”

  “What?”

  “He doesn’t think they’ve…slept together yet. But she’s happy. I don’t know any more than that.”

  Ari rubbed her eyes. “Am I dreaming?”

  Eleanor said, “It’s confusing, I know.”

  “It seems like my family is flying in all different directions,” Ari said.

  “I’m here,” Eleanor told her. “I’ll always be here. And I think you’re tired.”

  “I slept on the boat.”

  “Still, you need to get away from your thoughts. And it’s very hot and humid outside. Let’s go into the library, turn on the air conditioner, and watch something by Alfred Hitchcock. Rear Window. Or The Birds.”

  Ari nodded. “Anything but Vertigo. I’m having quite enough of that as it is.”

  “Do you feel well enough to continue working at Beach Camp?” Eleanor asked.

  “Oh, absolutely, Gram. I really enjoy it, and after a good night’s sleep, I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m so glad. I was thinking, Ari…I’ve been checking the weather forecasts and it looks like we’ve got a nor’easter coming our way. Maybe Cal and the others would like to have Beach Camp here again this week.”

  “Wow, that’s so nice of you.”

  “I enjoyed having the children in my house, Ari. I miss hearing their laughter, their sweet voices.”

  Ari studied her grandmother. “Do you get lonely out here, in the winter, when you’re by yourself?”

  “Not lonely,” Eleanor answered. “And not bored. I have my routines and my friends. And of course I have my memories. If I want, I can look at photo albums, or the holiday videos Cliff made during the last few years. But seeing those small children…it makes me more optimistic about the future. About everything, really. And Cal. I like Cal and his family. They are making a difference in the world, and if I can help by having Beach Camp here on a rainy day, I’d love to do my own small bit.”

  “You’re wonderful, Gram.”

  “Maybe I’m just old and wise,” Eleanor replied, smiling.

  Twenty-One

  That week it rained every day. The air was humid, hard to breathe in. Eleanor was delighted to have the children from Beach Camp over again. When everyone was there, they had arts and crafts in the dining room. Then, when Gabriel asked if they could watch television, Eleanor said it was time to go outside and play in the sprinklers. With her hair whizzing around her head in the humidity, she looked like an enchantress, and the children were fascinated with her.

  “But if we go out, we’ll get wet!” Sarita cried.

  “Yes, and when you run through my sprinklers, you’ll get wet, too,” Eleanor told her. “Now take off your shoes and leave them under your chair. That way when you come in for lunch, you’ll know where to sit. If you want to, take off your shirts. I’ll have towels waiting for each of you when you come back in.”

  The boys elbowed each other to get out the door first. The girls followed, some happily, some reluctantly. Eleanor had hoses with sprinklers set out on three sides of the house. She’d bought a clever toy she’d found online that was a ball you could jump on and the hose would shoot a rubber frog up in the air. Cal, Sandy, and Ari, wearing raincoats, supervised the three groups of children, who shouted and laughed in the rain and the sprinklers.

  When they finally came back into the house, chaos reigned while the adults got the children dried off and dressed in their dry tees. In the dining room, they found lunches on paper plates. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Chips. Grapes. Juice. Next, they all crawled under the table to sit with eyes closed while one child hid on the ground floor. After playing fifteen games of hide-and-seek, even the largest boy was yawning.

  “Now, children,” Eleanor said. “It’s rest time. Let’s go into the living room—”