Barefoot by Elin Hilderbrand Page A

Melanie’s seat as he craned his neck to check behind him before backing out. His hand was resting an inch or so above her head. She could smell him. He was very handsome— hot, someone younger would have said—but he was just a child. How old? she wondered.
    “Do you live here?” she asked.
    “Born and raised,” he said. “But I go to college. Middlebury, in Vermont.”
    “Good school,” Melanie said.
    “I’ll be a senior,” he said.
    So that made him around twenty-one, Melanie thought. Maybe twenty-two. Which was how old she’d been when she’d met Peter.
    They pulled onto the major road. Josh’s window was unzipped and air rushed in as they sped toward ’Sconset. Melanie rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes. There was something therapeutic about this ride. I feel okay, Melanie thought. Right this second I feel okay. How can that be?
    She turned to face the wind. Josh’s brown hair ruffled up like a rooster’s comb. In her lap, the brim of her hat flapped.
    “How do you like your job?” she asked.
    “I hate it,” he said.
    “That’s too bad.”
    “Truly,” he said. “My father’s an air traffic controller. He sort of got me in there.”
    “Oh,” Melanie said.
    “I’m going to quit anyway,” Josh said. “Life’s too short.”
    “I agree. That is, basically, my mantra. But will your father be mad?”
    “He’ll be mad,” Josh said. “But he can’t stop me.”
    “All right, then,” Melanie said. The road stretched out before them; to the left, across the moors, was a lighthouse, and beyond that, the ocean. “It’s beautiful here.”
    Josh didn’t answer, and Melanie chastised herself for saying something so obvious. He probably heard it from tourists all the time: how lovely, how quaint, how pristine, how beautiful. She tried to think of something witty to say, something bright, something that would make him think she was . . . cool. She had never been cool in her entire life, and she certainly wasn’t cool tonight. But she wanted Josh to believe she was worthy of the ride.
    “I just found out I’m pregnant,” she said.
    He looked at her quizzically. “Really?”
    “Yeah.” She stared at her knees. She would never make it in the CIA. She had just shared the strictest secret with someone she barely knew. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anybody.”
    He seemed puzzled by this, and Melanie would have laughed if she didn’t feel like such a horse’s ass. Who would he possibly tell?
    Still, he humored her. “My lips are sealed, I promise,” he said. “You know yesterday, when you fell? I thought your friend sounded pretty concerned. Overly concerned—about you, not her baby.”
    “She worries about me,” Melanie said.
    “Right,” he said. “But I wondered if there was something else going on. Something no one else knew about.”
    “Oh,” Melanie said. “Well . . . yes.” She looked at him. “You have a good memory.”
    “The three of you were hard to forget,” he said.
    When the Jeep pulled up in front of the cottage on Shell Street, Melanie’s spirits flagged. She didn’t want the ride to end; she didn’t want to have to face Vicki and Brenda like a child who had run away from home. Josh yanked the brake and hopped out of the Jeep to retrieve Melanie’s luggage.
    “Thanks for the ride,” Melanie said.
    “My pleasure.”
    Melanie reached for the suitcase, and their hands touched on the handle. We’re touching, she thought. One second, two, three. Did he notice? He didn’t move his hand. Slowly, Melanie raised her eyes and thought, If he’s staring at me, I won’t be able to bear it.
    He was looking at the cottage. Melanie let her breath go. She felt like a thirteen-year-old.
    “Well,” she said. “Thanks again.”
    “Right,” Josh said. “So, I’ll see you, I guess. Good luck with everything.” He smiled at her.
    “Thanks,” she said. “You, too.” She smiled back. She smiled until he climbed into his Jeep and