Family Reunion by Nancy Thayer (ereader android .TXT) 📗

drink when I’m sailing,” Beck told her. “Well, I do when I’m with a bunch of friends in a bigger boat.”

Plates, silverware, and cups were fixed with leather straps to the top of the basket, and cloth napkins rested between the tubs of food.

“Fancy,” Ari remarked.

“Old family thing. I don’t always use it,” Beck told her. “Just when I’m trying to impress someone.”

Ari laughed and took the plate he held out to her.

They ate awhile in silence. Chicken salad sandwiches, deviled eggs, apples. In the distance, sailboats skimmed the water. Waves lapped at the shore.

“It’s nice here,” Ari said. “I like the quiet. I work five days a week at a kids’ camp. Fifteen kids, and the noise is astounding. But I like it. I want to own a daycare center someday, so this is good experience.”

“Have you always wanted to work with little kids?” Beck asked.

“I have, actually. I’m an only child. When I was little, I used to line my stuffed animals and dolls up and teach them, read stories to them, put them down for afternoon naps.” Ari laughed. “They were docile students. I didn’t learn until practice teaching in college that kids also fought, disobeyed, and got sick all over their desks.” She glanced at Beck. “Did you always want to be a therapist?”

“Ha. No, I had plans to be an infielder for the Red Sox. Seriously. I played ball in Little League and was a star. I spent every minute I could catching balls I forced my sister or parents to throw. I dreamt of being a professional ballplayer. That dream burst in middle school. Only in my dreams do I run faster and throw farther than anyone else in the world. I was seriously depressed for a few months. I felt lost. It sounds ridiculous now, but we’re learning that adolescent brains are different from those of adults. And I wasn’t truly in a depression. I could sleep, eat, go to school. I was just unhappy. I was even brokenhearted.

“Then a couple of things happened. My cousin, older than me, Jack Franklin, went to Afghanistan and came home with PTSD. His life was shattered. And a guy we know on the island, Joey Vaughan, got drafted to the Pawtucket Red Sox minor league. And the thing is…” Beck took a deep breath. “The thing is, Jack saw a therapist and got better. Joey couldn’t handle the competition and started drinking. He got kicked off the team. Lived at home for a while, drinking and growing a beard, then drifted out of town. We don’t even know where he is now.”

“That’s sad,” Ari said quietly. Really, she didn’t know what to say.

“It is sad. Joey was a good guy. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It was like a puzzle to me. So I took some classes. Then majored in psychology, then got a master’s and doctorate.”

“Do you want to be a psychiatrist?”

“Not at all. They solve problems with pills, and believe me, I’m glad that works. I have a friend who’s bipolar. He was miserable, and not much fun to be around, until his psychiatrist prescribed lithium. Almost that fast”—Beck snapped his fingers—“he was better. He’s having a great life now.” Beck laughed. “Ari, you wouldn’t believe it after hearing me talk so much, but I’m a good listener.”

“I believe it,” Ari said. “Sometimes in student teaching, a kid would get upset, red in the face, frustrated. If I took him to the back of the room and sat with him, and just listened, he would calm down. He found it hard to articulate his problem, but I know—I could feel—how my being there, quietly, attentively, helped him.”

“Right. We’re all so busy these days with our screens, we don’t take time to turn off the electronics and sit with someone and quietly listen.”

“My grandmother is good at listening,” Ari said. “She’s good at being quiet as well. She can sit and think over a problem and not speak until she’s prepared her thoughts.”

“My grandmother was that way, too.” Beck took a deep breath. “Let’s walk.”

The beach was long and golden, the water translucent. Ari picked up some shells and found a rare piece of turquoise sea glass. They didn’t speak, and Ari was glad. Beck was an interesting man with an interesting profession. She’d assumed he’d be lighthearted and fun, so she had to let their talk settle. It was as if she’d thought she’d spend the afternoon laughing as balloons lifted into the air. Instead, she’d discovered solid ground for her thoughts…and her soul. So curious, because he looked like a playboy.

As the sun drifted lower in the sky, they gathered the picnic basket and blanket and returned to the boat. Once again, Ari sat with her face lifted to the sun as Beck sailed them back to his buoy.

“I’ve had a really nice day,” Ari told him as they waited for the launch to pick them up.

“Me, too,” Beck said. “I’d like to do it again.”

“I’d like that,” Ari agreed.

They climbed onto the launch and were delivered back to the dock.

Beck walked Ari to her car. “So I’ll call you,” he said.

Ari smiled. “Or maybe I’ll call you,” she teased, because she knew, she sensed it, it was real—he was enchanted, too. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his mouth quickly.

—

On the way home, Ari pulled into the Stop & Shop parking lot. She stepped out of the hot sun into the cool store, grabbed a cart, and filled it up with fruits and vegetables. Grapes, strawberries, plums, broccoli, kale, carrots. Next to the grocery store was a liquor store. She bought two bottles of sparkling rosé. Then, walking toward her car, she saw something so strange she almost dropped her bags.

Her father was coming out of the liquor store. Wearing plaid Bermuda shorts, loafers without socks, and a rugby shirt with the collar turned up. Ari started to wave at her father, but he was getting into a convertible with