Page 95 of Summer People
“What do you think?” She pulls a ball cap on, flashing me a smile.
“You look beautiful, as always.”
Her mouth flattens into a thin line, and although I can’t see her eyes behind the sunglasses she’s slid into place, I feel the eye roll. “Charming. However, I meant are people going to recognize me?”
Between the high collar on the quarter zip, the baseball cap pulled low, and the sunglasses, I hardly recognize her.
I unbuckle my belt and peck her lips. “I think you’re safe.”
“Perfect.” She beams. “So do you know where we’re going or do you need to ask?”
A chuckle escapes me at the idea of having to ask for directions. “I’ve been here hundreds of times, Libby.”
“Really?”
I nod. I’ve held tight to most things from my old life, but I did give up the Revs season tickets. I miss watching the game from ten rows behind home plate, but spending money on tickets I couldn’t use became depressing. “Used to come to games all the time.”
“With Hunter?”
My chest tightens painfully, but I swallow back the emotion. “Sometimes. Not often.” My brother only came out to Boston once a year or so and always alone. I really only ever saw him and his family when I made the trek to the island. “Marissa didn’t like bringing Sutton off the island. And Hunter was busy. You know how it is. Always one more thing to do at home.”
She nods. “So Sutton never came to a game.” It’s not a question. She’s sure of her statement.
I shake my head and clear my throat. “Actually, I was going to bring her to a game the weekend of the accident.”
Libby slips her glasses off her face, her expression serious. “What happened?”
I run my tongue over my teeth, giving myself a minute to rein in the hurt. Otherwise I don’t think I can get the words out. “Hunter and Marissa planned a weekend in Boston. Sutton was going to stay with me for the first time. I had stayed with her on the island a few times so they could get away, but she’d never stayed in the city with me.” I flex my hand into a fist on the console between us, already more emotional than I’d like.
Gently, Libby wraps her tiny hand around mine. The pressure allows me to release a modicum of the viselike tension in my muscles.
“Wednesday night, Hunter called and said Marissa was panicking about the idea of Sutton in the city. She’s always been a wanderer—no fear, no concern about strangers. So they were nervous.” I spent most of the conversation telling Hunter the city would be good for Sutton, that we’d work on stranger danger,and maybe she’d acquire at least a little sense of caution. “He asked me to come to his house instead. So I did. Rather than waiting until morning, they left that night. It was late by the time they got to Portland. And some guy jacked up on heroin was driving the wrong way down 295. Head-on crash. They both died on impact.”
A quiet gasp escapes her. “I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head and swallow back the tears. “It was three years ago. But their wish to keep Sutton safe and on the island still feels big.” So big it’s crushing sometimes.
“Do you ever think that she might like to see more places?”
Of course I do. When I was her age, I felt trapped on that tiny rock when there was an entire world to experience. But before my father retired and Cank stepped up, my dad was the harbor master, and that was a year-round job. Leaving for more than a quick boat trip to the mainland just wasn’t possible.
But I don’t say any of that.
“She might love to see a game,” Libby adds.
I nod, ready to end the conversation. I don’t want worries about whether I’m doing the right thing with Sutton to cast a shadow over the day.
“Come on.” I push my door open, and by the time I meet her on her side of the car, she’s got the glasses in place, and she’s back to incognito.
Not one person recognizes her as we make our way inside.
“Oh my gosh, how fun is this?” Libby’s head snaps from one direction to the other as we walk through the kids’ area along the harbor. Just inside the gate, there’s a baseball-themed play structure and climbing tower. Kids are lined up for the forty-yard dash and waiting somewhat impatiently for their turn in the batting cage. There’s a bar set up along the water where parents can sit and enjoy a drink while they watch their kids play.
“It’s such a cute setup. Kids must love coming here.”
I nod, imagining Sutton running around, shrieking and laughing. Our girl would love this. Guilt and worry swirl in my gut, but I swallow down the racing thoughts and lead her to the escalator.
“This way. We’re going up to the boxes.”
