THE LOBSTER BAKE
AS I SAT tending the fire, the beach began to fill with happy vacationers. Those who did not have cottages nearby staked out their territory with stadium blankets, coolers full of beverages, and folding beach chairs. Music of all sorts blared from transistor radios and the sound of small children screaming tainted the air.
I gave up on reading, unable to concentrate, and was relieved when my family arrived. I helped my mother and aunt set up several folding card tables and lugged coolers full of food and beverage from their trucks to the beach.
My uncle checked the fire, which was now hot and burning brightly. Satisfied, he decided it was time to let it die down and, when that was accomplished he began to patiently rake the embers over the white-hot rocks, being careful to assure that most of the coals would drop down in-between them.
My older brother, Jimmy, arrived soon after and set about helping my uncle get the fire ready for the food.
“Hey Jakey,” he yelled over his shoulder. “I hear from Dad you got yourself a summer girl. And she’s a Rita Hayworth redhead to boot! Va-va-va-voom, little brother. Well done!”
My mother, cousin, and aunt, hearing him, all turned as one and stared at me. I felt what was becoming a very familiar heat start again, roaring up my neck to my face.
“I was helping her family with their bags,” I stammered. “She’s just a girl.”
Jimmy and my uncle laughed and returned to their work. My mother eyed me critically, then shook her head and began the chore of soaking the ears of corn in water so that they wouldn’t burn when placed on the hot fire.
We continued to work while the noise from the people surrounding us got louder and more raucous. It was nearing six o’clock and the cocktail hour was in full swing.
Mr. McClennan stopped by and chatted briefly with my uncle. While they were talking, I glanced around to see what was going on. Lorna was at the water‘s edge, halfway down the beach, talking with some other kids. She was wearing a two-piece bathing suit that complimented her newly blossomed figure. Catching my eye, she laughed derisively, then flipped her hair and turned her back to me.
Understanding that I had, once again, been dismissed, I turned my gaze to the Sloane cottage. People were milling about the deck, drinks in hand, while Andi‘s mom passed around hors d’oeuvres. Andi was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed, I turned my attention once again to the work at hand.
Soon, people began lining up for dinner. My uncle had been putting on this bake for years and, as a result, everything proceeded like a well-oiled machine. Once all the customers were served, it would be time for us.
When that happened, I loaded my plate with lobster, mussels, clams, red potatoes, and corn and headed down the beach, away from the crowd. Andi was still missing and I knew it was beginning to look like I was being stood up.
Admitting that I had probably won and lost my first summer girl in record time, I sat down on my blanket to console myself with food. I was breaking my lobster in half when, suddenly, she sat down beside me.
“Sorry, I’m late,” she said. “Mom had me working in the kitchen.”
I smiled with relief. Maybe I wasn’t such a loser after all.
“It’s okay,” I responded, noting that she was empty-handed. “Did you eat already?”
She shook her head. “No. Ends up the agent only gave David two tickets. So, I got left out.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “You stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I knew my uncle always brought along and cooked extras, just in case someone he wanted to impress had neglected to buy their ticket in advance. I quickly explained the situation to him.
“Go ahead, Jake,” he said. “Fill a plate for your girlfriend. You did good work today so it’s on the house.”
I thanked him, grabbed a plate for Andi, and quickly loaded it with lobster and all the trimmings.
“Here,” I said, placing the plate in her lap.
“But, I can’t pay—”
“Don’t worry. It’s taken care of.”
She smiled at me gratefully and for a few minutes we both concentrated on cracking and extracting the meat from our lobsters. Andi was not nearly as adept at this as I was, so I helped her and then discarded the empty shells into the sea.
“Be careful with those mussels,” I warned as she plopped one into her mouth. “You might break a tooth on a pearl.”
She frowned and stared at me as she swallowed. “Pearls come from oysters,” she said, “not mussels. Everyone knows that.”
She pulled another mussel from its shell and placed it in her mouth. When she bit down on it, her eyes widened in surprise.
“What the . . . ,” she exclaimed as she spit the mussel onto her plate. She moved it around with her fork, astounded to find a tiny blue seed pearl inside.
“I told you so.”
“Is this a joke?” she asked. “I never heard of mussels having pearls before.”
“That’s because all the mussels you’ve had were probably farm-raised.”
“Huh?”
“Farm-raised,” I explained. “When they grow them commercially, they start them on ropes so they never touch the sea floor. The mussels we’re eating now are wild. They come from the rocks around this beach and others. So, since they’re subject to the variations of tide and all, they get grains of sand inside just like oysters do. The result is a pearl like that one in your palm.”
She grinned at me and put another mussel into her mouth, this time investigating it carefully with her tongue before she bit down.
“Let’s see how many we can find,” I said, enjoying how tantalizing she looked as she searched for the mollusk’s bounty with her tongue.
She nodded vigorously and pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and spread it on the blanket.
“We’ll put ’em here,” she said, dropping the pearl on the handkerchief and reaching for another mussel.
By the time we finished, there were six seed pearls of varying shades of blue in the middle of the handkerchief.
She rolled them around with her finger for a moment, obviously delighted; then, with care, folded the corners inward. Convinced the pearls would not escape, she tied the hanky in a knot and shoved it into her pocket.
“There,” she said. “Maybe I can find someone to string them or something.”
I grinned at the thought and then began to instruct her in the fine art of eating clams.
As we devoured the feast in front of us, we talked and she told me more about her father and her parents’ divorce.
“When they first split, I wanted to go live with my dad. He was going to do it, too—you know, sue for custody—but his girlfriend got pregnant and it all went south. She told him she couldn’t take the stress of being a stepmom and that it might cause her to lose the baby and all. And he bought it.”
“You don’t think that was the real reason?”
She laughed. “No way! She didn’t want any competition for his attention. Also, she thought she was an actress—a starlet or something—and she wanted him to write a movie for her. I think she was afraid I’d distract him. So, she won and I got stuck living with Mom and David.”
“David seems okay,” I said. “A little over protective, maybe, but okay.”
She hesitated for a moment before replying. “Yeah, he’s okay. He was married before, you know.”
“What happened?”
“She died . . . I think he killed her.”
My jaw dropped. The look on Andi’s face was deadly serious.
Seconds ticked by as I waited for her to say more.
Finally, she grinned. “You should see the look on your face. I’m kidding, silly. She died of cancer or something. Boy, did I have you going.”
Relieved and feeling a little stupid, I grinned back. “Yeah, you did.”
I was about to say more when my uncle interrupted us.
“Jake!” he yelled from the fire pit. “Can the young lady spare you for a few minutes to help us with the clean-up?”
“Sure. I’ll be right there,” I yelled, then turned back to Andi. “Listen, I gotta go help. A bunch of us kids are getting together later . . . after dark . . . to watch the fireworks. You want to come?”
“I don’t know if I can. I’d have to ask Mom.”
“Tell her it’s no big deal. Just some of the island kids. And we’ll be close . . . just around the corner from here, at Sandy Cove.”
She bit her bottom lip, thinking. “Okay. I’ll ask her.”
“Great!” I said as I helped her to her feet. She gave my hand a quick squeeze.
“I’ll be right back.”
I watched for a moment as she jogged toward the Sloane cottage, then got up and hustled over to the fire pit to help my uncle.
“She’s cute,” he said as he folded up the card tables. “You taking her to the after-party?”
I turned and gazed at the deck of Andi’s cottage. She was talking with her mother and, if her body language told me anything, it didn’t seem to be going well.
I sighed. “Doesn’t look like it.”
My uncle glanced over toward the cottage. “Mmmm,” he said, thinking. “Here’s what you do, Jake: You get your butt over there and show that woman what a nice, polite kid you are. Once she eyeballs you, she’ll have to give in.”
“But what about the clean-up?”
My uncle laughed. “You did the tough, boring job today, tending the fire. Think I’ll cut you some slack. Go on. You got to fight for your woman. Don’t give up!”
I grinned, thanked him, and grabbed two of the folded tables and loaded them into the back of the truck. Then I jogged over to the cottage. Andi was still talking with her mother and her stepfather had joined the discussion, obviously putting in his two cents.
I took a deep breath and stepped onto the deck. Andi’s back was to me and she looked like she was in the midst of a heated discussion with David.
“Excuse me,” I said as I approached. “I wanted to introduce myself.”
All heads turned in my direction.
I focused my gaze on Andi’s mother. “I’m Jake Chambers, ma’am. I was down on the wharf when you came in.”
Her mother stared at me, surprised; then she smiled.
“Yes, you’re the boy who showed us where our car was and helped with the bags. It’s nice to meet you, Jake. I see you’ve gotten acquainted with Andrea and want to take her to a party. Is that correct?”
“Not exactly a party, ma’am. It’s just a bunch of us kids getting together to watch the fireworks and listen to music. I thought Andrea might enjoy meeting the other kids on the island.”
Andi’s mom nodded and was about to speak, but David interrupted. “And, you’ll probably have plenty of beer. Right? Well, our daughter’s not going to any party where alcohol is served. Isn’t that right, Cheryl?”
Andi’s mom stared at him, her eyes narrowing as she glanced down at the cocktail glass in his hand. Then she returned her gaze to me.
“Is that correct, Jake?” she asked. “Will alcohol be available?”
I hesitated for just a second knowing that her stepfather was right. Pete or one of the older guys would probably bring three or four six-packs so everyone could have a brew or two. No one got drunk—well, maybe one or two did—but that was just the way these island parties went. But there was no point trying to explain that to her . . . or to David, who was already three sheets to the wind. So, I just looked her straight in the eye and lied.
“No, ma’am. There won’t be any alcohol. Just Coke and 7-Up. You have my word.”
Andi’s mother turned to David. “You heard the boy. Now, come on. Lighten up and give the kid a break. Remember, he helped us with our luggage and refused to take any money for it. I think that’s a sign of character, don’t you?”
Without waiting for a reply, she looked back at her daughter. “Okay, you can go. I like this boy. But you come home right after the fireworks are over. And, I’m not sure I believe him about the booze, but if there is any there, you don’t touch it. Am I making myself clear?”
Andi threw her arms around her mom. “Yes, Mom, and thanks. You’re the best.”
“Okay, enough already. You kids go along now and have a good time.”
I beamed and thanked her, and then I turned to Andi. “You stay here. I’ll go pack up my stuff and be right back.”
She grinned at me as I jogged over to my uncle who was just finishing with the clean-up.
“You impress the hell outta them?” he asked as I approached.
I laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. Looks like I’ve got a date.”
My uncle clapped me on the back. “Good for you, boy, and thanks again for your help today.”
I nodded and quickly shook out and folded my stadium blanket and put it, along with my paperback, into its case. I grabbed my sweater from the truck and ran back to Andi, who was waiting for me on the steps to the deck.
Seeing the sweater that I had tied around my neck, she frowned. “Will I need a jacket?”
“Naw,” I replied. “If you get cold, you can wear my sweater. Okay?”
She nodded and smiled as I took her hand and helped her down the steps. We strolled to the water’s edge, our hands still firmly clasped together and then walked slowly down the beach toward Sandy Cove.
As the memory of that night ran across my mind, I found myself amazed that neither of us had any idea of what a long and difficult journey we were embarking on.
The moment I took her hand in mine, my path was chosen and I knew I would follow her, in a sense, forever.