Chapter 67
The following year’s Dog Days celebration was living up to its name with the hottest stickiest wring-your-clothes-out weather anyone on Captain’s could remember. Hannah had tried to get dressed twice, but each time, in spite of patting herself as dry as she could, the long white silk dress became soaked with sweat as soon as she put it on.
She took it off again, put on her cotton robe, and went to the mirror over the bureau to check her hair. The full length of her hair was down with only the top section pulled back and fastened in back with a twist of curls, a single daisy pinned in the twist. The style still looked pretty good if you didn’t notice the strings of damp hair clinging to her neck. Hannah pushed the strands back, blending them into her waves of dark thick hair, trying to get her hair to look as neat as it had after Aunt Pam had wrought her magic on it an hour earlier with a cordless curling iron and hairspray. Hannah’s efforts to tidy her hair made it look even messier, the waves becoming wild and unruly again.
Finally, she threw her hands up. “Okay! I give up!” she said to her reflection, smiling ruefully.
It was more like Captain’s to have wild hair, not neat locks. It was more true to what the island was about to skip the fussy silk wedding gown, opting for the simple strapless white cotton dress with the ruffle on the bottom she’d planned to wear later, once the dancing started. She went over to the closet, pulled it out on its hanger and put it on. She left the silk strappy heels she’d planned to wear beside the bed. She paused at the bedroom door, ready to go, relishing the feel of the smooth wood of the floor under her bare feet. Sometimes instinct should win the day, sometimes you had to trust your gut. It felt amazing, flying free, not letting fear make her decisions. Not that she didn’t feel fear – it just wasn’t in charge anymore.
She walked out of the bedroom, down the hall decorated with mirrors framed in old boat portals, and started down the winding stairs of the house, their house. It was still hard to believe it, that Ben and Keeley and Zo had presented her and Daniel with this extravagant engagement gift on Christmas Eve at Zo’s house. They were all crowded around the long dining table decorated with silver bowls of holly. Amy and Pam were there too, Amy with Gus and their boys, Pam with Jacob. Jacob had been a shock to see, having shot up in the last year, and was nearly Pam’s height now and had the same muscular body as his mother, but with his father’s face and intense eyes. With champagne glasses raised, all the Barefooters gave up their portions of their friendship-house to Daniel and Hannah with every blessing, begging for the first Barefoot Grand-Babies “soon”.
“We’ll see about that,” Hannah said, laughing and shaking her head. She’d just been accepted into NYU’s undergraduate creative writing program, would start in January, and was at work on her second book, a Tolkien-like fantasy novel that was proving to be incredibly fun to write. She couldn’t imagine children – yet. No, that was later, after college and at least a few more novels. Her first had fallen immediately off of the bestselling list after its brief appearance, replaced by books that even she admitted were far superior. She had a lot to learn.
“Hey, no problem,” Daniel said. “We’ll get right on it.” He winked at Hannah conspiratorially, as unshakable as she was about their plans to wait to have children.
Together Zo and Keeley and Ben had worked to have the charred remains of the old Barefoot House removed, had found a wonderful architect, and included the couple in every decision as the house was designed and built. Now, where there once was an old funky shack raised up on stilts there was a new multi-level modern masterpiece of fine wood and glass and brass, the inspiration for its nautical design being the old wooden cabin cruisers that Daniel had always loved. Hannah, who adored sea glass, found every possible item she could made of sea glass for the house, even a small round window made with peiced-together bits of sea glass which decorated the window midway down the stairs.
As she passed the window now on the stairs, she reached up and dragged her hand across it as she always did, letting the bubbly surface tickle her palm, loving the cool feeling of the glass under her hot hand. She marveled again at how much she loved this house, even more than the carriage house at the Harris’s. When she and Daniel had gone back to collect her things from the Harris’s barn, she had stopped outside the little house and admired it, feeling both proprietary and alien, as if she was visiting an old lover. The garden was choked with weeds and the roses had black spot. The mahogany door she had lovingly restored had a raw slash in the wood near the bottom. She was glad to turn away, think of their new house on Captain’s, their apartment in Manhattan.
Hannah reached the bottom of the stairs and looked around. The living room was empty, everyone outside on the boardwalk and dock mingling and drinking champagne and waiting for the ceremony to start. Pausing a moment longer, Hannah admired the three paintings lined up on the far wall, a new sandpiper series by Zo. Although Zo always laughed off any suggestions that she turn professional, there was no doubt that she still painted regularly, her style even more assured in this series, incorporating color so that each painting had a faint dominant color – one pale blue, one gray, one with droplets of orange – the sandpipers running on the beach in twos and threes near the water’s edge, faint tracks left behind them being swallowed by wet sand.
Hannah heard voices and followed the sound into the kitchen where Zo and Pam were taking turns juicing limes for the pitchers and pitchers of Mean Greens that Dog Days was known for and would be served along with champagne and the usual beer and full bar
“Hey, it’s the bride to be!” Pam said, spotting Hannah and shaking out her sore wrist, turning away from the glass citrus juicer set on the counter. She was already dressed in her favorite bright green and yellow muumuu and wearing a yellow rose behind her ear.
Zo, who was standing next to her cutting limes in half at the counter wearing slim navy Chanel shorts and a crisp white t-shirt, turned and looked. “Hannah, honey, why aren’t you wearing your dress? The ceremony starts in…“ She looked up at the vintage kitchen clock with the mermaid on it that Keeley had put up only hours before, a find from an antiques store in Connecticut. Keeley was relishing living there again in a house walking distance from the beach in Fairfield that Ben had deemed acceptable. The huge Fifth Avenue apartment was up for sale and Keeley’s wine glass was usually filled with Perrier these days. “Fifteen minutes! Oh, my God. We’ve got to juice the rest of these limes after. I’ve got to go get dressed.”
“It keeps getting drenched with sweat every time I put it on. I’m going to wear this, it’s lighter and more Captain’s anyway,” Hannah said, lifting her hair up off of her neck.
“Oh!” Zo said, making a sad face. “But your dress! You were so excited to wear it.”
Hannah shrugged and nodded. She had been excited, twirling in front of the three way mirror in that fancy wedding boutique wearing the simple silk dress with the delicate dogwood-flower detail around the low-scooped back. Zo had taken over when Hannah had admitted how intimidated she was with all the choices involved in planning a wedding, and Hannah had gratefully followed her lead. Zo, having just started her own wedding planning business after filing for divorce from Neil, already knew where to find the best of everything and had made her daughter’s dream wedding a reality, down to the last Captain’s-casual beach-themed detail.
“I’m more excited to be comfortable. Is it really only fifteen minutes? I’d put on makeup, but it’ll just melt off. Thank God for waterproof mascara.”
Pam, drying her hands on a towel, tsked and said, “You don’t need makeup. You’re beautiful just as you are. And barefoot I see. Good girl.”
Hannah stuck out her foot and wiggled her toes, the nails painted a pale shell-pink. “At least I’ve got polish on. You know, Mom? Now I really appreciate my feet. They’re like yours: elegant.”
Zo made a little curtsy. Hannah could see a little blush in her cheeks. Zo still got off on being called Mom. Keeley preferred being called “Mommy”, so it worked out. Zo said, “They aren’t too bad, are they? Well, you can get away with a cotton sundress, sweetie, but not I. I’m going to run and dress, even if I end up sweating in my silk.” She ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the bedroom they were using as a dressing room for the bridal party.
“How long have you both been slaving in here? I couldn’t stand it. I’m so hot,” Hannah said, fanning her face, just as Jeff Hall and Kevin Walsh walked in. Jeff and Kevin were two of the Barefooter’s closest male friends and were renowned all-around trouble makers. Tall and muscular, their physical fitness from competitively sailing year-round would have made them look years younger than their actual ages of forty-five and forty-six if it hadn’t been for the sun and wind that had weathered their faces dark and leathery. The two men had abandoned their usual Dog Days gag-costumes for neatly pressed khakis and button-down shirts in honor of the special day.
“What did I just hear?” Kevin said.
“Our hostess is hot!” Jeff said, bugging his eyes out comically at Kevin.
Kevin shook his head. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”
“Oh, no,” Pam said, chuckling and putting her hands on her hips. “Here goes. This is going to be a real Captain’s wedding.”
Hannah turned to look at the two men with surprise. This was the routine they did with Keeley every year at Dog Days, yet another tradition special to Keeley that Hannah took as evidence of Keeley’s unique popularity.
“Alley-oop!” Jeff said, grabbing Hannah suddenly by the waist and throwing her over his shoulder.
“Hey!” Hannah screeched. “Aren’t you supposed to do this to my mom?”
“Zo? She didn’t say anything about being hot,” Kevin said, walking backwards in front of them through the through the living room and holding open the front screen door.
“No, no, I mean Keeley!”
“You women are confusing,” Jeff said, turning his head to look back at Hannah who was dangling over his shoulder. “Listen, you said you were hot. We’re just trying to cool you off.” Then he jogged down the wide wooden steps of the house. Pam followed them out, laughing.
“Yeah, that’s all we’re doing. Hey, gangway! Hot hostess coming through!” Kevin called, running ahead and clearing a path through the assembled crowd of islanders and friends from Fairfield who had come to witness Hannah and Daniel’s wedding. A little cheer went up when everyone saw that it was the bride. Then laughter rose up when those who had attended other Dog Days celebrations recognized the traditional “dunking” was about to happen.
“Wait…” Hannah trailed off, her eyes falling on the canvas-slipcovered folding chairs that were lined up for the ceremony in the sandy yard beside the house and the huge flower arrangements flanking the driftwood alter. She was so shocked, she didn’t know what to say. They were going to do this – to her?
Hannah was too serious and boring for antics like the annual “dunk”. It was Keeley who was the popular fun one you dumped in the water while everyone laughed. Keeley, who would do a silly water ballet routine after being thrown in, sticking her leg out of the water with her toe pointed and spitting a stream of water out of her mouth, fluttering her fingers as she made huge elaborate strokes in the water and hummed the “Blue Danube”. They had their shtick down cold. Where was Keeley anyway?
Hannah looked around for her, and then felt a slap on her bare foot. Then another one, as they passed through the crowd that rose up and pressed around them, palms high-fiving her bare foot, just like they always did with Keeley. She saw her Aunt Amy and Uncle Gus in the crowd, hands raised and reaching too.
Wait. Why couldn’t she do this? Why couldn’t she be fun, too?
They reached the end of the dock and Jeff set her down for only a brief moment before the two men grabbed her up again, this time holding her at both ends. They started swaying her back and forth. They were really going to do it! Hannah heard Keeley’s unique bawdy laugh and twisted her neck to look for her.
Just then, there was a shout. A man’s voice called out, Daniel’s, and abruptly the two men stopped swinging Hannah, and just held her by her ankles and under her arms, looking up.
Daniel came striding down the dock, his face thunderous. He looked incredibly handsome, his dark hair trimmed short, a brightly colored lei made from orchids resting on top of his crisp white linen shirt. “What are you doing with my bride?”
“To-be?” Kevin asked, his voice squeaking.
“She said she was hot,” Jeff insisted.
“I am!” Hannah called. A peal of laughter reached her from the crowd. “Really! I’m dying here.”
Daniel looked at Hannah and then at the two men still holding her. “Well, what are you waiting for? The lady says she’s hot.”
“This woman is hottahottahotta!” Jeff called, breaking into a grin.
“Cool her off, man, cool her off!” the crowd started shouting, per the usual script.
The world started swaying back and forth again, and for a moment, Hannah heard, below the happy hubbub the low scratching voices of the sea witches waiting below and felt that old fear thrill up her back.
Up and down, up and down, gaining velocity, the crowd’s roar growing as Hannah was swung through the air, the two men preparing to launch her high and then into the water, Hannah closed her eyes. This was life, wasn’t it? The terror, the joy?
“Witches, I’m gonna getcha!” Hannah whispered, clenching her teeth.
Then she was flying up before crashing into the cool water of the bay, splashing plumes of water rising up all around her, the sudden temperature drop knocking the oxygen out of her lungs. Through the surface she dove down with a purpose, reaching for the bottom, when a slick tickling hand reached for her with web-like fingers. A shock shooting through her, her eyes opened and she gasped out the last of the air in her lungs, bubbles rising before her face.
There, floating in the water. Bright green seaweed, long drifting strands of it. It was always seaweed. And even if there were witches and other scary things, she wouldn’t run anymore; she would fight them. She dove down again, grateful to be wearing lacy nude-toned boy-shorts instead of a thong as the maneuver she was about to attempt, one of Keeley’s, would have given more of a show than she wanted to give in the case of a thong.
Reaching bottom, she pushed at it, hard, and rose to the surface with her legs straight up, her toes pointed. As she broke through, there was a brief silence followed by a smattering of applause that grew as they realized she was really doing the whole annual routine. Taking a mouthful of water and then spitting it out through her teeth, she lay on her back and fluttered her hands in the water, smiling.
Then, beside her, someone dove in. Hannah looked up and saw that it was Daniel, grinning at her, his clothes ruined, too. Then there was another splash, and then another, until single splashes of each diving guest became a churn of the entire party.
Hannah realized she was crying and laughing at the same time. It had all been in her mind, this exclusion, this idea of being an outsider.
“Hey, bride!” Daniel said. “Will you be mine?”
Gasping and blinking among the splashing waves, she swam to embrace him. Their arms wrapped around each other, their faces so close, she looked into his eyes and saw the truth. He was really hers. He wasn’t going anywhere. She replied, “I will.”
Later the official ceremony was held on the beach, everyone still dripping and shaking their hair out and finding pieces of seaweed in awkward places. After the ceremony there was dancing and Mean Greens and Hannah’s two mothers making tearful toasts. But it was then that Hannah pledged herself to Daniel, and he to her, among the splashing crowd in the waters at the tip of Captain’s Island.