Island Summer Love Read online

  “It’s hard to imagine Brent falling in love with a snob.”

  Isabel nodded. “You’re right. And when he realized who she really was, he broke off the relationship. But I think for a while she reminded him of everything he’d given up. You know, all that money and power, the excitement of city life. Even though that isn’t really his style.”

  Allison laughed lightly. “Most people dream all their lives about being rich.”

  “I know, dear. But if you don’t know it already, you’ll soon learn that Brent isn’t like most people. He’s very much his own man.” She shook her head slowly. “Sometimes I could wish he was a little more like everybody else. Maybe then he’d be married and settled down with a wife and children. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m ever going to live to see my own great-grandchildren. It would do my heart good to watch them growing up on Harper’s Island.”

  Allison felt a strange thickening in her throat. She swallowed. “Are there many children on the island?”

  “Quite a few, actually. Enough to get into trouble when there’s nothing to do in the summer. Of course, the older ones usually help out with the lobstering. It’s the little ones that are at loose ends. And their mothers are usually too busy making ends meet to spend time entertaining them.” She sighed. “It really is a pity. Some of them are half wild by the time they go to school.”

  Allison looked out at the pine-covered hills and the water beyond. They rounded a bend in the road and Isabel stopped the car at the top of a rocky bluff. “Come on,” she said, getting out of the car, “I have something to show you.”

  She led Allison to a promontory at the edge of the bluff. The ocean was spread out before them for miles, while far below, blue and green waves crashed against the high rocks. Sunlight glinted off the water, sending reflections scattering in a hundred directions. The wind blew Allison’s long hair away from her body and caressed her face.

  “It’s beautiful!” she whispered.

  Isabel smiled. “This is the opposite end of the island from the village. It’s called Lookout Point. The story goes that fishermen’s wives used to watch for their returning husbands from here. I’ve always loved being surrounded by the sea. When things get hard, I come out here and just soak it all up. It makes all the hard times worth it.”

  “I can see why. I think I’ve just fallen in love with Harper’s Island.”

  Isabel pointed to a spot at the base of the cliff. “There’s a big thunder hole down there. It’s hard to get to, so I won’t try to take you. My old legs can’t navigate the rocks anymore, I’m afraid. But maybe I’ll get Brent to show it to you sometime. It’s well worth it.”

  “What’s a thunder hole?”

  Isabel smiled. “It’s a sort of cave that the sea’s carved out of rock. At high tide the water rushes in and makes a booming sound. Kind of like thunder.” She glanced at her watch. “We’d better run. Abel will be wondering where you are, and I have a few more things to do at the house before supper.”

  Allison climbed reluctantly back into the car, promising herself that she would return to Lookout Point with her camera as soon as possible.

  Isabel continued to point out island landmarks as they continued along the road that circled the island: the huge boulder known as King’s Rock, a favorite play spot for the children; the ruins of a nineteenth-century mansion that had been built by an eccentric millionaire from Rhode Island; the many summer cottages. At last they turned the corner and came back into the village. Allison was overwhelmed by the richness of the island’s history. It was hard to believe that such a little piece of land out in the ocean held such a wealth of folklore. As they drove past the town wharf and the harbor, she noted that the Blue Lady was at her mooring, bold and bright in the late afternoon sun.

  Isabel stepped on the brake and the car swerved to the side of the road. Startled, Allison turned and caught a glimpse of three young children running into the woods. Their strawberry-blond hair was matted, and their dirty clothes were ragged. Isabel shook her head and sighed as she returned the car to the road.

  “Those Flory children! I swear every one of them has nine lives! It’s a miracle none of them have been killed.”

  Allison felt her heart go out to the children. “Were those the children you meant when you said some of the little ones were at loose ends?”

  Isabel nodded. “They really need someone to take an interest in them. But their mother’s got two younger ones, and their father’s out all day lobstering, and then he works a night shift on the mainland.”

  “Maybe a play group could be started,” Allison mused. “Something to entertain the children during the day. Not school, just activities they’d like: arts and crafts, music, dance. Maybe they could even put on a play!”

  Isabel sighed. “It’s a wonderful idea, but I’m afraid no one has the time. Everybody’s too busy putting food on the table. For most of these families, life is a hand-to-mouth struggle all the time.”

  “Well, I could do it!” Allison blurted. “At least for the next four weeks. To get it started.”

  Isabel glanced at her quickly. “If you could, it would be the best thing that’s happened to the island children in more than forty years. But I’ll be honest with you. I’d hate to see something start and then fall apart because you left before the summer was out. It would break those kid’s hearts, and they can’t stand much more pain in their lives.”

  Allison nodded thoughtfully.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” Isabel continued. “I’m sure the whole town would get behind your effort. But four weeks isn’t very long. And Brent said something about your going back to Boston—”

  “I’ll be staying here,” Allison said firmly. She wondered what else Brent had told his grandmother. Was her whole life now public information? “I have to go back for a gown fitting in mid-July, but there’s no reason I can’t come back the next day. The wedding’s not until September, and someone else is making all the arrangements.” She turned to Isabel. “I know Martha wants me to stay as long as I can, so why not the whole summer?”

  “It sounds good to me,” Isabel said. “But I don’t want you to jump into anything without thinking it through.” She pulled into the Hollingsworth driveway. “You think about that idea a little longer, and then let me know. I can get things rolling in a matter of hours. It won’t be an easy task, mind. Some of those children are almost wild. But it would be the best thing in the world for them.” She rounded the curve at the top of the hill. “There’s Abel now, with the truck.” She pointed to a small, battered red pickup. Abel sat at the wheel, smoking a pipe. Isabel pulled the Ford up beside the truck and turned to Allison. “Don’t let him hurry you,” she said. “Supper’s not until six, so there’s plenty of time. Just gather up anything you might like to have for the next week or so.”

  “Thanks so much—for everything.” Allison felt almost buoyant as she slid out of the car. The idea of starting a children’s program excited her, and gave her an energy she hadn’t felt in a long time. It was the first time she’d ever had the chance to design her own program to meet the needs of a particular group of children, she reflected. The curriculum she taught in Boston was well researched and intellectually sophisticated, but it wasn’t something she had created herself.

  She smiled at Abel as he climbed out of his truck. “I won’t take long,” she said. “Why don’t you come in and make yourself at home?”

  “That’ll be easy,” Abel said, grinning back at her. “Seeing as how I practically live here.”

  Allison laughed and ran inside.

  When Abel brought her back to his house, Allison moved her things quickly upstairs to the guest room that Isabel had fixed up for her, then went to the kitchen to offer her help.

  “There’s not much left to do, dear.” Isabel glanced at the clock. “We’ll eat in half an hour. Why don’t you just relax?”

  “But I feel so useless!” Allison protested, and Isabel smiled knowingly.

  “A
ll right, then you can set the table. The plates are in that cupboard.”

  Allison took down three of the large blue ironstone plates and carried them to the round wooden table that was already covered by a blue-and-white-checked cloth.

  “We’ll need four plates, dear,” said Isabel.

  “Four?”

  “Yes. Brent’s coming for supper. He often does when he’s spent the day hauling. Besides, beef stew’s his favorite meal.”

  Allison felt a vague uneasiness as she returned to the cupboard for another plate. The prospect of sitting at the same table with Brent troubled her. How was she going to react to him after last night?

  But she had no time to wonder, because at that moment the sound of a door slamming in the back shed off the kitchen announced Brent’s arrival. Allison concentrated on setting the table while Isabel welcomed her grandson with a hearty embrace.

  “When will you learn to come in by the side door, like a regular person?” she chided him fondly.

  He grinned. “I’m afraid I’ll never fit into the category of ‘regular person,’ Gran. I’ve been coming in this way ever since I started digging clams as a kid.“

  She nodded. “Well, at least you know enough now to take your boots off before you walk across my kitchen floor. I remember wiping a lot of clam-flats mud off this floor in my time!”

  “That wasn’t all my mud, and you know it!” He wagged his finger at her playfully. “Abel tracked in his share of dirt, as I recall.” He turned to Allison. “Has my grandmother got you all settled in already? Smells like she’s going to feed you right, at least.”

  Allison smiled. “I’m fine. Isabel gave me the grand tour of the island this afternoon, and I fell in love with it.”

  Brent’s face assumed a more serious look. “Now you know why I live here,” he said softly. He pivoted back to his grandmother. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Not a thing. But tell me, how was the haul today?”

  Brent grunted. “Disappointing. They just don’t seem to be running well this summer. It should pick up in a couple of weeks, though. Too many shedders right now.”

  “You look pretty tired. Did you get any sleep at all?”

  He shrugged. “A few winks after I cleaned up. I tell you, it was tempting to just call it a night, but I wouldn’t miss your beef stew for the world.”

  Again he looked at Allison, and this time his glance rested on her hair. She felt a cold shiver run the length of her spine. She’d forgotten she was still wearing the barrette. Her hand instinctively reached up to touch it, and Brent’s slow smile told her that he was aware of the reason for her discomfort.

  “I’ll bet you gave Allison my old room,” Brent said to Isabel. “It probably still has my baseball glove in the closet.”

  “It’s a guest room now.” Isabel poked a long wooden spoon into the kettle on the stove. “And your baseball glove is long gone, I’m afraid. Now don’t tease her, Brent. She’s almost as tired as you are.”

  He came toward Allison, grinning, and she involuntarily blushed. Her heart was pounding wildly against her ribs. Brent’s knit shirt could not hide the strong muscles underneath as he reached out and took her hand. He squeezed it gently, and then dropped it to move past her into the living room and join Abel.

  Allison stood, frozen, wondering what his gesture had meant. Was it a silent reminder of the events of the night before? Approval of her acceptance of the barrette? And what did that acceptance mean to him? Was she being disloyal to Cabot in wearing it?

  She swallowed and looked quickly at Isabel, but the older woman was opening the oven door, apparently oblivious to her confusion.

  “Would you tell the men-folk that it’s time for supper, dear?” Isabel asked over her shoulder. “If we don’t eat now, those two will get so wrapped up in boat talk we won’t be able to have a decent conversation at the table.”

  Chapter Eight

  The meal was both simple and delicious. Large bowls of hearty beef stew were complemented by hot, flaky buttermilk biscuits, slathered in fresh butter. Allison ate eagerly, surprised by her own hunger. Apparently, what they said about fresh air was true; it stimulated the appetite. She sat opposite Brent at the table, and as she lifted the spoonfuls of wine-flavored stew to her lips, she was aware of every glance.

  The conversation was light and entertaining. Isabel and Abel exchanged stories about eccentric islanders, and Brent recalled some of his memories of boyhood summers spent on the island. Then, after a silence during which everyone simply savored their food, Isabel spoke.

  “I must tell you—Allison has the most wonderful idea for a summer recreation program for children here on the island.” She threw an apologetic glance at Allison. “I’m sorry to spill the beans before you’ve made a final decision, but I just can’t keep it to myself a minute longer! It’s such a marvelous plan!”

  Brent emptied his bowl of its last spoonful of stew and sat back in his chair. “Sounds interesting. Why don’t you let us all in on the secret, Allison?”

  She flushed as she met his curious glance. “It’s not really ingenious or anything. I just thought that a sort of play group during the summer might help to keep the children out of trouble. You know—games, arts, crafts, that kind of thing.”

  Brent nodded. “And who’s supposed to run this program?”

  “I thought I would. I’ve had teaching experience, and it wouldn’t be too difficult if I had a central place to work out of. Maybe even the old schoolhouse itself. A lot of the arts and crafts could be done with natural materials—pinecones, shells, seeds—things the kids could find around the island. And I’m sure somebody must have an old baseball bat and a softball.”

  Abel nodded thoughtfully. “It just might work. You know, if someone’s willing to get it off the ground, kind of coordinate things, I’ll bet everybody’d pitch in. It could be good for the whole community.”

  “I told you!” Isabel beamed at Allison. “If you can sell Abel on the idea, you can sell anybody.”

  But Brent was shaking his head. “The local people wouldn’t be too likely to trust a summer resident. Anyway, what’s to keep you here? I thought you were only up here for a month.”

  “The children will keep me here,” she said staunchly. “I’ve decided to stay through the summer.”

  Brent frowned. “If Cabot calls you home to Boston three weeks after the program starts, you’d leave in a minute.”

  “I would not!” Allison flared. “When I make a commitment, I stick to it! And I’d make sure Cabot understands what my priorities are!”

  Brent looked at her skeptically.

  “People will trust the program if we stand behind it, Brent,” said Isabel firmly. “I think it’s important to make this a community project right from the start.”

  “You make it sound as if Allison’s already made up her mind to do it,” replied Brent. “I had the impression she was still deciding.”

  “I have decided,” said Allison. “And with all of your help, we can start the ball rolling tomorrow.”

  Isabel beamed. “Wonderful! Then it’s settled.” She stood up. “Wait until you see the dessert I have for you.”

  Within minutes she had set a plate of shortcake heaped with ripe, juicy strawberries in front of each person.

  “The season’s first wild strawberries,” she announced proudly. “Now eat and enjoy.”

  Allison had never tasted such sweet strawberries. They were small, but incredibly juicy, with a delicate, honeyed taste. Was it because they were wild, or did their taste have something to do with Brent’s presence at the table? She shook her mind away from the thought and turned to compliment Isabel on her cooking.

  When they finished eating, Brent rose. “Gran, you and Abel go relax in the living room. Allison and I will do the dishes tonight.”

  Isabel smiled. “Why, thank you, dear. That would be lovely. Maybe I can get Abel to take a stroll with me. It’s a beautiful evening.”

  Abel g
runted, but a few minutes later he was shrugging on his jacket.

  “We won’t be long,” Isabel said as she followed Abel out the door.

  “Take your time,” Brent called. The door banged shut. He turned to Allison, flashing his quick grin. “Hope you don’t object to K.P. duty tonight.”

  “Not at all,” she said quickly. “I’ll wash.”

  “Suits me.” He sagged briefly against the wall, and Allison was reminded of the fact that he’d been awake for most of the past forty-eight hours.

  “In fact,” she suggested, “why don’t you go home and get some sleep? There aren’t many dishes, and you look pretty tired.”

  “No thanks. I may look crazy, but I’m no fool. I’ve never yet turned down the opportunity to be alone with a pretty woman.”

  She smiled. “Thanks for the compliment, but you must be tired if you’ve forgotten that I’m not available.”

  His expression turned serious. “I haven’t forgotten, Allison. I was hoping that maybe you’d thought over what we talked about.”

  She felt weak and dizzy; she turned away from him and ran water quickly into the porcelain sink.

  “All right, I get the message: wrong subject. Anyway, right now I’m too beat to try anything out of line.” He laughed. “Let’s get these done so we can both get some sleep.”

  “Good idea.” Allison was grateful that his tone had lightened again. She was becoming less and less able to defend her emotions against the onslaught of his bluntness.

  She squeezed liquid detergent into the sink, unfolded Isabel’s blue dishcloth and watched the foam of bubbles rise toward her hands. She slid the silverware under the lather, lowered the glasses one by one into the warm water. For a while it was silent in the kitchen, as Allison carefully washed each article and rinsed it under hot, running water before setting it in the yellow dish drainer. Brent dried things and put them away with a calm, serene air that seemed pleasantly comforting and domestic. As her hands plunged in and out of the soapy water, it occurred to Allison that this must be one of the most profound pleasures of marriage, this simple, quiet intimacy between a man and a woman, sharing the household chores in the evening.