Page 72 of Summer of '69
Jessie wants to run away. That was what Woodstock was all about, but Pick must not even remember that he asked Jessie to go. He must not remember that he tried to kiss Jessie in the buttery and then hedidkiss her, passionately, two separate times.
It happened. It wasn’t something she dreamed—although now, it’s destined to feel that way.
Jessie gasps when she slips off her bikini bottoms. They’re stained with blood. Her period, she thinks. It came. This is something she had been wishing for, praying for, even, but now it doesn’t matter. Now, she couldn’t care less.
Can’t Find My Way Home
Tiger is in Cambodia. Exalta has overridden Kate’s decision to evict Bill Crimmins for his ineffectiveness. David won’t come to the island. Kate called him at the office with the intent of telling him about her deal with Bill, but when his secretary put him through, he said, “I’m very busy right now. Can we talk later?”
Kate nearly pushed and said,Laterwhen? How about tonight at eight o’clock?,but she couldn’t bear to hear him say that eight o’clock wouldn’t work, that no time would work, because the issuewasn’tthat he was busy; he was always busy. It was that he didn’t want to talk to Kate at all.
Her problems, she realizes, are all interconnected. Since she’s not allowed to throw Bill Crimmins out, she might persuade him to believe that he’s staying due to her good graces as long as he continues to pressure his brother-in-law for information about Tiger. Part of Kate clings to the idea that this mission in Cambodia—blocking the flow of supplies to the Vietcong—is less dangerous than combat in Vietnam, but who is she kidding? It’s all dangerous. Once she has a reliable source confirming that Tiger is, at least, safe, Kate can stop numbing herself with alcohol and she will be restored to David’s favor.
Kate catches Bill bright and early on his way out to his pickup truck, which he parks on Plumb Lane, and says, “I’m sorry about my temper the other day, Bill. I was distraught about Tiger…”
Bill softens immediately; she can see forgiveness in his face. He is a good man, and Exalta is right, hehasplaced himself in service to this house and their family for over three decades. That Kate now harbors some anger and resentment toward Bill Crimmins and, worse, that she feelsdisillusionedby him is breaking her heart along with everything else in her life.
Bill puts a hand on her shoulder. “I understand, Katie. I’ve lost a child myself.”
Kate nearly says,You have?She wonders if maybe Bill’s wife, who died so long ago that Kate never knew her, lost a baby. But then she realizes he means Lorraine and she nearly growls at him.
Lorraine isn’t lost the way Tiger is lost. Comparing them is nothing short of offensive, but Kate will let it go. She supposes that, regardless of the circumstances, Bill must miss his daughter.
“I’m happy to let you and…Pick stay,” Kate says. The child’s name sticks like a fishbone in her throat. “Stay for as long as you need, of course. It was cruel of me to pull the rug out from under you. But if you would please continue to pursue your brother-in-law for any news he has about Tiger…”
“Of course,” Bill says. His eyes shine. “I miss him too, Katie. I think of him like one of my own.”
There’s a lot of emotional distance between having a child of one’s own and thinking of a child as one’s own, although Bill has known Tiger since he was born and they were always close. They both love the Red Sox and tinkering with cars. Would Tiger trust Bill Crimmins with his life? Probably, Kate has to admit.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
There is one other action she can take to fix the mess she finds herself in. Something previously unthinkable. Once Jessie and Exalta leave for the club, Kate secures a scarf over her hair, puts on her sunglasses, and climbs into the Scout.
Up the cobblestones of Main Street she goes; it feels like being inside a cocktail shaker. Kate rumbles around the Civil War monument and along Upper Main. She passes her two favorite houses. They both back onto the grassy fields that border Quarter Mile Hill. One is rustic and barn-like with crisscross ironwork over the wavy leaded-glass windows; the other is a luscious white confection that features a front portico with Ionic columns and two glassed-in porches. These homes are the best mix of town and country and Kate fantasizes about telling Exalta that she has bought a house on Upper Main, the only address that would qualify in everyone’s mind as superior to Fair. But alas, Kate doesn’t have that kind of money and those houses stay in families for five or six or ten generations.
At the flagpole at Caton Circle, Kate checks her watch—four minutes. Four minutes isn’t so bad. But she’s still quite a distance from her destination.
She drives out Madaket Road. The Chase Barn is on the left, but after that, homes are few and far between. Still, it’s a lovely ride, isn’t it? On the right, Maxcy Pond glitters like a mirror, and then Kate sails up to the top of the hill to overlook the rolling green acres of Sanford Farm. There are twenty-seven curves on Madaket Road; Kate wonders what it would be like to drive them in the dark after a few cocktails.
All the way out at the end of the road is the hamlet of Madaket. Madaket Millie lives in one of the cottages out here on Hither Creek; she’s the closest thing Nantucket has to a folk hero. She served as a coastal-defense specialist in World War II and spent long hours watching for ships in distress and German U-boats. It’s well known that she’s curmudgeonly and will befriend only children, animals, and her Madaket neighbors. Kate considers introducing herself to Madaket Millie and inviting her to lunch at the Field and Oar Club. This feels like a radical idea, but is it? Bitsy Dunscombe will likely never speak to Kate again; Kate could use a new friend to replace her, so why not Madaket Millie?
The island is much bigger than she realized.
Kate turns left at the first unmarked dirt road after the harbor, Massasoit Bridge Road. She cruises over the eponymous bridge and checks her watch—sixteen minutes from town. When Massasoit Bridge Road dead-ends, Kate turns left and immediately spies the structure that originally gave Red Barn Road its name. The barn is faded to a dusty pink and part of the roof is caving in. It’s no longer in use but it retains a certain charm; Andrew Wyeth might have painted this barn, with the flat, windswept acres behind it and the ocean in front.
There’s only one other structure on this road: the six-bedroom home David found listed for sale in the newspaper. Kate spies it up ahead. She pulls into the spacious drive. The house has gray shingles and white trim that are weathered and peeling, respectively, in a way that suggests gravitas and character rather than neglect. The house is tall and wide; both All’s Fair and Little Fair would fit inside. From the front porch, there are uninterrupted views of the ocean. Kate is enraptured; here, there’s no mistaking you’re on an island.
Kate tries the front door. It’s unlocked, so she walks right in. The house is immediately welcoming. There’s a living room on the left, a dining room with a grand round pedestal table surrounded by ten ladder-back chairs on the right, and a flight of stairs up the middle. The back of the house features an eat-in kitchen with big windows that look back on what used to be farmland. There is, in fact, plenty of room for both a tennis court and a swimming pool, and although Kate scorned David for suggesting it (she cringes remembering her own sharp tongue. Why does he remain married to her?), she now thinks how wonderful it would be to create a proper summer estate out here. She had previously thought it garish and gauche, but neither is true if there are no neighbors to witness it.
Upstairs, Kate finds a medley of bedrooms and bathrooms and closets. The entire upstairs is painted white and every time Kate turns a corner, there’s another bedroom, another bath. Some of the bedrooms have twin beds, some a double bed; two connect through a Jack-and-Jill bathroom with a double vanity. There’s a spacious linen closet and a nursery that still contains a crib. There is one room where the walls are lined with books, the swollen paperbacks of summer, and Kate imagines a future time when her mind will be quiet enough that she can read again.
Expecting another closet, she opens a door to find a set of stairs, which she climbs up to an attic. It’s a finished space—though brutally hot; it needs a powerful standing fan—that’s furnished with six built-in bunk beds. The quality of the bunk beds is high; the wood is solid and true, and the mattresses look new. Kate imagines that the man of the house built these for his grandchildren, maybe at their behest, maybe as a surprise, and the brothers and sisters and cousins treasured their time up here away from the adults, telling secrets, making up ghost stories.
Kate wonders if she will ever have enough grandchildren to fill this room.
She returns to the second floor to find the room that will be Tiger’s. One of the front rooms, she decides, with a big bed and a half bath. When Tiger comes home, he can marry Magee and the two of them can sleep in this room and wake up to the sun’s first rays hitting the water.
The other front bedroom will be for her and David; it’s the master, and it has an en suite bath with a claw-foot tub. There are rooms for Blair, Kirby, and Jessie, and one guest room that will be home to boyfriends or college roommates or in-laws.
