Nantucket Sisters by Nancy Thayer

doesn’t want to hurt him, and she’s not sure of her feelings. “Things will change,” she agrees. “Not because I’ll be in college, but because we’ll be separatedfor most of four years. But I’ll be back for summers and holidays, to work for money for school, and I absolutely will return to live on the island when I graduate. I never want to live anywhere else.”
    Shane withdraws his hand. Leaning back in his chair, he’s obviously gathering his thoughts. He’s not easy with words. He doesn’t like to read, so his vocabulary doesn’t provide for him all the nuances he’d desire. Finally, he says ruefully, “That seems kind of cold.”
    Maggie takes the time to study the handsome big man across from her. His shoulders are wide, his entire body muscular, hefty, solid. His deep brown eyes are fringed with the same dark brown of his hair. Already his hands are scarred and callused from working, and when he walks his hands curve inward, as if he’s always carrying a hammer. He’s unbuttoned the top two buttons of his white shirt, and she knows he hates wearing it. It chokes him. He prefers the loose hang of a cotton tee shirt over canvas work trousers. He prefers work boots.
    Not that clothes matter. Maggie doesn’t care what he wears. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t like to read. Most of the couples she knows have different interests. He coaches Little League baseball—as her friends say, he’ll be a wonderful father. He’s not a drunk, he doesn’t have a bad temper, he makes good money. If she married him, she’d be able to squeeze some time out of her day to write. Her girlfriends have pressed all these arguments and more on Maggie. But he deserves to know the truth.
    “You’re right.” Now she reaches for his hand. She has never said she loves him because she isn’t sure that she does. “It’s just that I want so much to be a writer, Shane. I want that more than marriage and kids—” She hears him inhale at this. She’s never been quite so blunt before. “My parents are really struggling to send me away to college, and I need to go. I’ve got so much to learn, I’m so excited to hear lectures from professors who’ve read and studied—” His face tells her that she’s gotten off track. For him, for him she’s gotten offtrack. Best to hit him with it all at once. “Shane, I don’t know if I’ll ever have the feelings for you that you want me to have. I think it’s only fair for you and me to break off. Four years is too long for us to try to stay a couple. I want to concentrate on my studies, and you, my gosh, Shane, you’ll have so many women hitting on you the second the ferry leaves the dock—”
    Shane jerks his hand away. “You don’t have to humor me. I’m a big boy. I can deal with rejection.”
    As often happens at moments like this, the waiter’s timing is impeccably off. “Would you like to see the dessert menu?” he offers eagerly.
    “No, thanks.” Shane’s voice is almost a growl. “We’ll take the check.”
    They don’t speak again until they leave, and when they go out the door, Maggie notices how several women’s eyes caress Shane. He is a hunk. He is a good man. She is sorry for both of them that that isn’t enough.
    Early Saturday morning, Ben picks up Emily and drives her to the ferry. Her parents have sent all her necessities straight to Smith. Emily has only one bag and a backpack. Most of her summer clothes will remain here on the island.
    “You look nice,” Ben tells her as she climbs into the cab of his Jeep.
    Emily kisses his cheek and snuffles around his face, smelling the lingering fragrance of Barbasol. “You always look nice.”
    “Better stop that or you’ll miss your boat,” Ben warns her with a smile. Ben backs out of her drive and heads toward town. All around them the gardens, moors, bushes, and trees are still green and flowering, as if summer will truly never end.
    “Tired?” Ben asks, reaching over to take her