of Esther, she struck up an unlikely friendship with Elliot.
I looked at my watch, realizing that I’d been away longer than I’d anticipated. I tucked the diary into my bag and walked quickly back to Bee’s.
As I opened the door to the mudroom, I heard Bee’s footsteps approaching. “Oh good, you’re back,” she said, peering around the doorway as I stepped out of my sand-covered boots. “I don’t know how I managed to forget about tonight,” she continued. “It’s been on my calendar since last year.”
“What, Bee?”
“The clambake,” she said, without further explanation. She paused, looking suddenly thoughtful. “Can it be that you’ve never attended an island clambake?”
Aside from an occasional holiday visit, I’d only been to the island in the summer months. The nostalgia I felt wasn’t from personal memories but instead from Esther’s account of that magical night.
“No, but I’ve heard stories,” I said.
Bee looked giddy. “Now, let’s see,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “You’ll need a warm coat. And we’ll pack blankets, and wine; must have wine. Evelyn’s meeting us there at six.”
The beach scene was exactly as Esther had described it. The campfires. The twinkle lights. The blankets spread out on the sand. The dance floor and the canopy of starry sky above.
Evelyn waved at us from the beach. Her sweater looked too light to protect her fragile skin from the cool wind, so I retrieved a blanket from Bee’s basket and wrapped it around her thin frame. “Thanks,” she said, a little dazed. “I was lost in memories.”
Bee gave me a wise look. “Her husband proposed to her here on this beach years ago, the night of the clambake,” she said.
I set the basket down. “You two sit down and be comfortable. I’ll take your meal orders.”
“Clams, with extra butter,” Bee said. “And corn bread.”
“Asparagus, and just lemon with my clams, dear,” Evelyn added.
I left them there together with their memories, and wandered toward the chow line, passing the dance floor, where a few shy teenage girls huddled in a corner, staring at the teenage boys congregating on the opposite side. A staring match ensued. And then, silencing the evening waves curling up on the shore, music began seeping through the speakers, Nat King Cole’s “When I Fall in Love.”
I rocked to the sound of the melody, allowing myself to be swept away by its reverie, until I heard a voice behind me.
“Hello.”
I turned around to find Jack standing behind me. “Hi,” I said.
“Your first clambake?”
“Yes,” I said. “I—”
We were interrupted by the DJ on the dock. “And look who we have here,” he said from his spot on the dock above. His assistant had shone a spotlight on us. I shielded my eyes from the brightness. “A young couple to kick off tonight’s dancing!”
I looked at Jack. He looked at me. We heard applause coming from every direction.
“I guess we only have one choice,” he said, reaching for my hand.
“I guess so,” I replied, smiling nervously as he pulled my body toward his.
“Can you believe this?” I asked, wide-eyed.
Jack spun me around the floor like a pro. “No,” he said. “But we might as well give them a show.”
I nodded. There was something natural about the way he held me. He whirled me around the floor, and I saw flashes of faces gazing at us. An elderly couple. Children. Teenagers. And Henry. Henry was there, smiling at us from the sidelines. I extended my hand to wave at him when Jack spun me around again, but in a flash he was gone.
When the music ended and another round of applause broke out, I wished we could go on dancing. But Jack pointed to the beach, and I could see that his attention was elsewhere.
“Some friends of mine are waiting,” he said. “You could join us.”
I felt silly for romanticizing the moment. “Oh, no,” I said. “I can’t. I’m here with Bee and our friend Evelyn. I promised I’d
I looked at my watch, realizing that I’d been away longer than I’d anticipated. I tucked the diary into my bag and walked quickly back to Bee’s.
As I opened the door to the mudroom, I heard Bee’s footsteps approaching. “Oh good, you’re back,” she said, peering around the doorway as I stepped out of my sand-covered boots. “I don’t know how I managed to forget about tonight,” she continued. “It’s been on my calendar since last year.”
“What, Bee?”
“The clambake,” she said, without further explanation. She paused, looking suddenly thoughtful. “Can it be that you’ve never attended an island clambake?”
Aside from an occasional holiday visit, I’d only been to the island in the summer months. The nostalgia I felt wasn’t from personal memories but instead from Esther’s account of that magical night.
“No, but I’ve heard stories,” I said.
Bee looked giddy. “Now, let’s see,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “You’ll need a warm coat. And we’ll pack blankets, and wine; must have wine. Evelyn’s meeting us there at six.”
The beach scene was exactly as Esther had described it. The campfires. The twinkle lights. The blankets spread out on the sand. The dance floor and the canopy of starry sky above.
Evelyn waved at us from the beach. Her sweater looked too light to protect her fragile skin from the cool wind, so I retrieved a blanket from Bee’s basket and wrapped it around her thin frame. “Thanks,” she said, a little dazed. “I was lost in memories.”
Bee gave me a wise look. “Her husband proposed to her here on this beach years ago, the night of the clambake,” she said.
I set the basket down. “You two sit down and be comfortable. I’ll take your meal orders.”
“Clams, with extra butter,” Bee said. “And corn bread.”
“Asparagus, and just lemon with my clams, dear,” Evelyn added.
I left them there together with their memories, and wandered toward the chow line, passing the dance floor, where a few shy teenage girls huddled in a corner, staring at the teenage boys congregating on the opposite side. A staring match ensued. And then, silencing the evening waves curling up on the shore, music began seeping through the speakers, Nat King Cole’s “When I Fall in Love.”
I rocked to the sound of the melody, allowing myself to be swept away by its reverie, until I heard a voice behind me.
“Hello.”
I turned around to find Jack standing behind me. “Hi,” I said.
“Your first clambake?”
“Yes,” I said. “I—”
We were interrupted by the DJ on the dock. “And look who we have here,” he said from his spot on the dock above. His assistant had shone a spotlight on us. I shielded my eyes from the brightness. “A young couple to kick off tonight’s dancing!”
I looked at Jack. He looked at me. We heard applause coming from every direction.
“I guess we only have one choice,” he said, reaching for my hand.
“I guess so,” I replied, smiling nervously as he pulled my body toward his.
“Can you believe this?” I asked, wide-eyed.
Jack spun me around the floor like a pro. “No,” he said. “But we might as well give them a show.”
I nodded. There was something natural about the way he held me. He whirled me around the floor, and I saw flashes of faces gazing at us. An elderly couple. Children. Teenagers. And Henry. Henry was there, smiling at us from the sidelines. I extended my hand to wave at him when Jack spun me around again, but in a flash he was gone.
When the music ended and another round of applause broke out, I wished we could go on dancing. But Jack pointed to the beach, and I could see that his attention was elsewhere.
“Some friends of mine are waiting,” he said. “You could join us.”
I felt silly for romanticizing the moment. “Oh, no,” I said. “I can’t. I’m here with Bee and our friend Evelyn. I promised I’d
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