Page 30 of Summer Light on Nantucket

Blythe’s heart took a bungee jump. She knew this hand so well, yet it seemed like the first time he had touched her.

She asked, very quietly, “But your home, your real home, is in Ireland, isn’t it?”

“That’s true, yes. But I have an apartment in Boston. And I think you’d enjoy visiting my ancient house in Dublin.” His eyes were dark.

“Aaden…”

“MOM!”

The front door slammed.

Teddy came dashing down the hall and out to the porch. His friend Eric came right behind him. They were both wearing tennis whites and Red Sox baseball caps. They smelled like the ocean and the things swimming in it. Teddy had hair on his legs. She couldn’t keep from glancing at Eric’s legs in shorts instead of jeans. No hair.

Teddy skidded to a halt. He looked at Blythe. He looked at Aaden.

“Hi,” Teddy said to Aaden, and before Aaden could respond, Teddy said to his mother, “Eric and I are biking out to Surfside and we’re taking all the bananas and two water bottles and the box of Cheez-Its.”

“Hello, Eric,” Blythe said.

“Hello, Mrs. Benedict,” Eric said politely.

“Teddy…” Blythe softly touched Teddy’s shoulder. “I’d like you to meet my dear old friend, Mr. Sullivan.”

Aaden rose and held out his hand. “Hello, Teddy.”

“Hello, Mr. Sullivan. This is my friend Eric.”

Teddy shook hands with Aaden and then Eric shook hands with Aaden. The boys waited as if they were poised at a starting gate, eager to race out, away from the adults.

Blythe smiled at them. “Be careful. Mind the lifeguard. There might be sharks in the water.”

“Cool!” both boys yelled.

“Okay, bye!” Teddy yanked his friend’s arm. They disappeared into the kitchen where they made rustling noises as they gathered their provisions. Then came the pounding of their feet on the floor and the slamming of the front door.

“They’re animals,” Blythe said.

Aaden leaned back in his chair. “Ah, they’re gorgeous. I remember those days, when I was a new teenager and still young enough to spend the entire day outdoors. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”

Blythe smiled at the memory of him as a teenager. His hair was shaggy and curly, no matter how often he had it cut, and his nose was sunburned and peeling.

Aaden’s cell buzzed. He slipped it out of his pocket, checked it, and mouthed to Blythe, “I have to take this.”

Blythe carried their plates and wineglasses into the kitchen to give him some privacy.

Soon Aaden followed with their utensils. He opened the dishwasher and put them in their little basket.

“Aaden, you don’t have to do that,” Blythe said.

“It was very strenuous, but I managed anyway. Anything to impress you, Blythe.” Aaden straightened and stood close to Blythe, and inside the kitchen, in the cool shade, he seemed bigger than he had been on the porch, and more substantial.

“Sorry. Work. Listen, Blythe…” Aaden moved closer. He bent forward and kissed her mouth.

Her knees went weak. She said, “Aaden.”

He stepped back. “I’d like to kiss you more, but the truth is, I’m wary of your front door opening and closing again.”

He’d made her laugh. He always could. Blythe gazed at him in wonder. “You are real. This is real.”

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