The Choice

201/571 Gabby nodded again. “For Laird and Allison, imagine a super-tall allosaurus stuck in his lair. And finally,for Matt and Liz . . .” Stephanie paused. “Oh,I know . . . imagine Elizabeth Taylor lying ona porch mat, eating fried pork rinds. Are youreally picturing it?” It took Gabby a minute—and Stephaniehad to repeat the descriptions more thanonce—but when she was ready, she quizzedGabby on the names. Amazingly, the namesstuck, and Gabby couldn’t hide her surprise. “Neat, huh?” “Very,” Gabby admitted. “It’s one of the areas I study at UNC.” “Do you do this with everyone you meet?” “Not specifically. Or rather, not con-sciously. For me, it comes almost naturally.But now you’ll really impress them.” “Do I need to impress them?” “No. But it’s fun to impress people any-way.” Stephanie shrugged. “Think about

202/571what I just did for you. But I’ve got one morequestion.” “Go ahead.” “What’s my name?” “I know your name.” “What is it, then?” “It’s . . .” Gabby’s mouth opened sound-lessly while her mind froze. “Stephanie. Just Stephanie.” “What? No memory tricks?” “No. That one, you’ll have to remember.”She rose from her seat. “Come on, now thatyou know their names, let me go ahead andintroduce you to them. And pretend youdon’t already know who they are, so that wayyou can impress them, too.”Introductions were made to Megan, Allison,and Liz while they watched the kids chasingone another; Joe, Laird, and Matt, mean-while, had strolled down to the dock, loadedup with towels and coolers to greet Travis.

203/571 Stephanie hugged each of them, and theconversation turned to her progress atschool. Amazingly, the memory tricks con-tinued to work. Gabby wondered whethershe should try it with some patients beforeshe remembered she could read their nameson the charts beforehand. With some of Kevin’s co-workers, though... “Hey! Y’all ready?” Travis called out.“We’re good to go, here.” Gabby trailed a step behind the group,adjusting the T-shirt she’d worn over herbikini. In the end, she’d decided that, de-pending on what the other women wore, shecould either take off her shirt or shorts—ormaybe neither—and convince herself shehadn’t been listening to her mother. The men were already in the boat whenthey got to the dock. The kids were dressedin life jackets and were handed to Joe; Lairdheld out his hand to help the women into the

204/571boat. Gabby stepped in, concentrating onkeeping her balance amid the rocking, sur-prised at the size of the boat. It was longerthan Travis’s ski boat by a good five feet,with bench seats that ran along both sides,which was where most of the kids and adultsseemed to congregate. Stephanie and Allison(the supertall allosaurus) had made them-selves comfortable at the front of the boat. Atthe . . . bow? The stern? . . . Gabby wondered,then shook her head. Whatever. At the backof the boat was a large platform and crank,along with Travis, who stood behind thewheel. (Blond, GI) Joe was untying the linethat held the boat in place, while Laird (lair)rolled it up. A moment later, Joe moved to aspot near Travis, while Laird approachedJosie (and the Pussycats). Gabby shook her head, thinking itamazing. “Sit by me,” Stephanie commanded, pat-ting a spot beside her.

205/571 Gabby sat, and from the corner of hereye, she saw Travis grab a baseball hat hehad tucked into a corner compartment. Thecap, which she always believed looked goofyon grown men, somehow suited his carefreedemeanor. “Everyone ready?” he called. He didn’t wait for an answer, and theboat rumbled forward, working through thegentle swell. They reached the mouth of thecreek and turned south, into the waters ofBack Sound. Shackleford Banks loomedahead, grass threaded along the dunes. Gabby leaned toward Stephanie. “Whereare we going?” “Most likely Cape Lookout. Unless thesound is relatively clear of boats, we’ll prob-ably make for the inlet, then out into OnslowBay. Afterward, we’ll either picnic on theboat, on Shackleford Banks, or at CapeLookout. Kind of depends on where we endup and what everyone’s in the mood for. A

206/571lot of it depends on the kids. Hold on for asecond. . . .” She turned toward Travis. “Hey,Trav! Can I drive?” He raised his head. “Since when do youwant to drive?” “Now. It’s been a while.” “Later.” “I think I should drive.” “Why?” Stephanie shook her head, as if marvelingat the stupidity of men. She rose from herspot and whipped off her T-shirt without ashred of self-consciousness. “I’ll be back in alittle while, okay? I have to talk to my idiotbrother.” As Stephanie made her way toward therear of the boat, Allison nodded toward her. “Don’t let her scare you. She and Travisalways talk to each other that way.” “I take it they’re close.” “They’re best friends, even if both woulddeny it. Travis would probably say that Laird

207/571was his best friend. Or Joe or Matt. Anyonebut Stephanie. But I know better.” “Laird’s your husband, right? The oneholding Josie?” Allison couldn’t hide her surprise. “Youremembered? You just met us for a second.” “I’m good with names.” “You must be. You know everyonealready?” “Uh-huh.” Gabby rattled off each of thepassengers’ names, feeling smug. “Wow. You’re just like Stephanie. Nowonder you two hit it off.” “She’s great.” “Sure, once you get to know her. But shetakes a little getting used to.” She watchedStephanie lecturing Travis, one hand on theboat to steady herself, the other handgesturing. “How did you and Travis meet?Stephanie mentioned you live in theneighborhood.”

208/571 “We live next door to each other,actually.” “And?” “And . . . well, it’s kind of a long story. Butto make it short, my dog, Molly, had sometrouble when she had her puppies, and Trav-is was kind enough to come over and treather. After that, he invited me to come.” “He’s got a way with animals. Kids, too.” “How long have you known him?” “A long time. Laird and I met in college,and Laird introduced me to him. They’vebeen friends since they were kids. Actually,he was the best man at our wedding. Andspeak of the devil . . . Hey, Travis.” “Hey,” he said. “Should be fun today,huh?” Behind him, Stephanie was perchedbehind the wheel, pretending not to watchthem. “Hopefully it won’t get too windy.” Allison looked around. “I don’t think itwill.”

209/571 “Why?” Gabby pressed. “What happens ifit’s windy?” “Nothing good when you’re parasailing,”Travis answered. “Basically, the chute couldcollapse in places, the lines could get tangled,and that’s the last thing you want in aparachute.” Gabby had an image of herself spinningout of control as she rushed toward thewater. “Don’t worry,” Travis reassured her. “If Ieven suspect a problem, no one goes up.” “I hope not,” Allison chimed in. “But I’dlike to volunteer Laird to be the first.” “Why?” “Because he was supposed to paintJosie’s room this week—he promised meover and over—but is it painted? Of coursenot. It’ll serve him right.” “He’ll have to stand in line. Meganalready volunteered Joe to go first.

210/571Something about not spending enough timewith the family after work.” Listening to their familiar banter, Gabbyfelt like a spectator. She wished thatStephanie hadn’t left her side; oddly, sherealized, Stephanie already felt like theclosest thing she had to a friend in Beaufort. “Hold on!” Stephanie shouted, rotatingthe wheel. Travis instinctively grabbed the side ofthe boat as it hit a large wake and the bowrose and fell with a thud. Allison’s attentionwas diverted to the kids, and she rushed to-ward Josie, who’d fallen and was already be-ginning to cry. Laird pulled her to her feetwith one arm. “You were supposed to be holding her!”Allison reproached him while reaching forJosie. “Come here, baby. Mommy’s got you. .. .”

211/571 “I was holding her!” Laird protested.“Maybe if Dale Earnhardt here was watchingwhere she was going . . .” “Don’t bring me into this,” Stephaniesaid, tossing her head. “I said to hold on, butI guess you didn’t listen. It’s not like I cancontrol the swells out here.” “But you could go a little slower. . . .” Travis shook his head and took a seat be-side Gabby. “Is it always like this?” she asked. “Pretty much,” he said. “At least since thekids have been around. Rest assured thateach of the kids will have a few tearful mo-ments today. But that’s what keeps it inter-esting.” He leaned back, planting his feetwide. “How’d you like my sister?” With the sun behind him, his featureswere difficult to discern. “I like her. She’s . . .unique.” “She seems taken with you, too. If shedidn’t like you, believe me—she would have

212/571let me know. As smart as she is, she doesn’talways know when to keep her opinions toherself. If you ask me, I think she wassecretly adopted by my parents.” “I don’t think so. If you let your hair growa little longer, you two could pass for sisters.” He laughed. “You sound like her now.” “I guess she rubbed off on me.” “Did you get a chance to meet everyoneelse?” “Briefly. I visited with Allison for a bit,but that’s all.” “They’re the nicest bunch of people you’llever meet,” Travis said. “More like familythan friends.” She studied Travis as he pulled the base-ball cap from his head, suddenly graspingwhat had happened. “Stephanie sent youback here to talk to me, didn’t she.” “Yeah,” he admitted. “She reminded methat you were my guest and that I’d be rudeif I didn’t make sure you were comfortable.”

213/571 “I’m fine.” She waved a hand. “If youwant to go drive the boat again, feel free. I’mperfectly happy enjoying the view.” “Have you ever been over to CapeLookout?” Travis asked. “No.” “It’s a national park, and there’s a covethat’s great for little kids because the wavesdon’t break there. And on the far side—theAtlantic side—there’s a white-sand beachthat’s unspoiled, which is almost impossibleto find anymore.” When he was finished, Gabby watched ashe turned his attention to Beaufort. The pro-file of the town was visible; just beyond themarina where the masts of sailboats pointedtoward the sky like upraised fingers, shecould see the restaurants lining the water-front. In every direction, there were boatsand Jet Skis zipping past, leaving white-washed curls of water behind them. Despiteherself, she was conscious of the gentle way

214/571his body leaned against hers as the boatglided through the water. “It’s a pretty town,” she finally said. “I’ve always loved it,” he agreed. “Grow-ing up, I used to dream about moving to abig city, but in the end, this is home for me.” They turned toward the inlet. Behindthem, Beaufort grew smaller; up ahead, thewaters of Onslow Bay embraced the Atlantic.A solitary cloud drifted overhead, puffy andfull, as if molded from snow. The gentle bluesky spread over water speckled with goldenprisms of sunlight. In time, the hectic activityof Back Sound gave way to a sense of isola-tion, broken only by the sight of an occasion-al boat pulling into the shallows of Shackle-ford Banks. The three couples at the front ofthe boat were as transfixed by the view as shewas, and even the kids seemed to havequieted. They sat contentedly on laps, theirbodies relaxed, as if they were ready for anap. Gabby could feel the wind whipping

215/571through her hair and the balm of the sum-mer sun. “Hey, Trav,” Stephanie called out, “is thisokay?” Travis broke from his reverie and glancedaround. “Let’s go a bit farther. I want to makesure we have enough room. We’ve got arookie on board.” Stephanie nodded, and the boat acceler-ated again. Gabby leaned toward him. “How doesthis work, by the way?” “It’s easy,” he said. “First, I fill the para-chute and get it ready to accept the harnessesby using that bar over there.” He pointed to-ward the corner of the boat. “Then, you andyour partner put the harnesses on, I clipthose to the long bar, and you take a seat onthe platform. I start the crank and you liftoff. It takes a couple of minutes to reach theright height, and then . . . well, you float

216/571around. You get a great view of Beaufort andthe lighthouse, and—because the weather’sbeen so clear—you might get to see somedolphins, porpoises, rays, sharks, eventurtles. I’ve seen whales on occasion. Wemight slow the boat, let you dunk your feet,and then go up again. It’s a blast.” “Sharks?” “Of course. It’s the ocean.” “Do they bite?” “Some do. Bull sharks can be prettynasty.” “Then I’d rather not be dunked, thankyou very much.” “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Theywon’t bother you.” “Easy for you to say.” “I’ve never, in all the years I’ve done this,heard of anyone getting bitten by a sharkwhile parasailing. You’re in the water formaybe two or three seconds at the most. Andusually sharks feed at dusk.”

217/571 “I don’t know . . .” “How about if I’m with you? Then wouldyou try it? You shouldn’t miss it.” She hesitated, then gave a quick nod. “I’llthink about it,” she offered. “I’m not prom-ising anything.” “Fair enough.” “Of course, you’re assuming that you andI will go up together.” He winked as he flashed that smile of his.“Of course.” Gabby tried to ignore the leaping sensa-tion in her stomach. Instead, she reached forher bag and pulled out some lotion. Afterdabbing a bit on her hand, she begannervously to apply some to her face, trying toregain some distance. “Stephanie tells me you’re a worldtraveler.” “I’ve traveled a bit.” “She made it sound like more than that.Like you’ve pretty much been everywhere.”

218/571 He shook his head. “I wish. Believe me,there are lots of places I haven’t seen.” “What’s been your favorite place?” He took a while to answer, a wistful ex-pression on his face. “I don’t know.” “Well . . . where would you suggest I go?” “It’s not like that,” he said. “What do you mean?” “Traveling has less to do with seeingthings than experiencing them. . . .” He sur-veyed the water, gathering his thoughts. “Letme put it this way. When I graduated fromcollege, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, soI just decided to take a year to see the world.I had a bit of money saved—not as much as Ithought I needed—but I packed some gearand my bike and caught a flight to Europe. Ispent the first three months there just . . .doing whatever I felt like, and it rarely hadanything to do with what I was supposed tosee. I didn’t even have a planned itinerary.Don’t get me wrong—I saw a lot. But when I

219/571think back on those months, I mostly re-member the friends I made along the wayand the good times we spent together. Likein Italy, I saw the Colosseum in Rome andthe canals in Venice, but what I really re-member was a weekend I spent in Bari—thisout-of-the-way city in the southern part ofthe country that you’ve probably never heardof—with some Italian students I happened tomeet. They took me to this little bar where alocal band was playing, and even thoughmost of them didn’t speak a word of Englishand my Italian was limited to menu items,we ended up laughing all night long. Afterthat, they showed me around Lecce and Mat-era, and little by little, we became goodfriends. Same type of thing in France andNorway and Germany. I stayed in hostelswhen I had to, but most of the time I’d justshow up in a city and somehow meetsomeone who would offer to let me stay withthem for a little while. I’d find odd jobs to

220/571pick up extra spending money, and when Iwas ready for someplace new, I’d just takeoff. At first, I thought it was easy becauseEurope and America are a lot alike. But thesame thing happened when I went to Syriaand Ethiopia and South Africa and Japanand China. At times, it almost felt like I wasdestined to take the trip, like all the people Imet had somehow been waiting for me. But .. .” He paused, looking directly at her. “But I’m different now than I was then.Just like I was different at the end of the tripthan I’d been at the beginning. And I’ll bedifferent tomorrow than I am today. Andwhat that means is that I can never replicatethat trip. Even if I went to the same placesand met the same people, it wouldn’t be thesame. My experience wouldn’t be the same.To me, that’s what traveling should be about.Meeting people, learning to not only appreci-ate a different culture, but really enjoy it like

221/571a local, following whatever impulse strikesyou. So how could I recommend a trip tosomeone else, if I don’t even know what toexpect? My advice would be to make a list ofplaces on some index cards, shuffle them,and pick any five at random. Then just . . . goand see what happens. If you have the rightmind-set, it doesn’t matter where you end upor how much money you brought. It’ll besomething you’ll remember forever.” Gabby was silent as she digested this.“Wow,” she finally said. “What?” “You make it sound so . . . romantic.” In the ensuing quiet, Stephanie began toslow the boat and Travis sat up straighter.When his sister glanced at him, he noddedand stood up. Stephanie lowered the throttle,allowing the boat to slow even further. “We’re ready,” he said, and moved to astorage box. Pulling out the parachute, heasked, “Are you up for a new experience?”

222/571Gabby swallowed. “I can’t wait.”

Nine Once the parachute was filled andharnesses strapped on, Joe and Megan liftedoff first, followed by Allison and Laird, thenMatt and Liz. One by one, the couples sat onthe platform and were lifted into the air, thetow rope unwinding until they were a hun-dred feet up. From Gabby’s spot on the boat,they looked small and inconsequential asthey drifted over the water. Travis, who’dtaken the wheel from Stephanie, kept theboat at a steady speed, making large, wideturns, then finally brought the boat to agradual halt, allowing the riders to drift

224/571toward the sea. Just as their feet grazed thewater, he’d gun the throttle, and the chutewould rush skyward like a kite being pulledby a boy running in the park. Everyone was chattering as they reachedthe platform, talking about the fish or dol-phins they’d seen, but Gabby nonetheless feltherself growing nervous as her turn ap-proached. Stephanie, splayed out in herbikini, was working on her tan and nursing abeer in the front of the boat. She raised thebeer in salute. “Here’s getting to know you, kid.” Travis tossed aside his baseball cap.“C’mon,” he said to Gabby, “I’ll help you withyour harness.” After stepping off the platform, Lizhanded over the life preserver. “It’s so much fun,” she said. “You’re goingto love it.” Travis led Gabby to the platform. Afterhopping up, he bent over, offering a hand.

225/571She could feel the warmth in it as he helpedher up. The harness lay crumpled, and hepointed toward two open loops. “Step in those and pull it up. I’ll tighten itfor you.” She held her body steady against the tugsof the canvas straps. “That’s it?” “Almost. When you sit on the platform,keep the wide strap under your thighs. Youdon’t want it under your . . . backside, be-cause that doesn’t support your weight aswell. And you might want to take off yourshirt, unless you don’t mind getting it wet.” She slipped off her shirt, trying not to feelnervous. If Travis noticed her self-consciousness,he gave no sign. Instead, he hooked up thestraps of her harness to the bar, then hisown, then motioned for her to sit. “It’s under your thighs, right?” Travisasked. When she nodded, he smiled. “Justrelax and enjoy, okay?”

226/571 A second later, Joe pushed the throttle,the chute filled, and Gabby and Travis werelifted from the deck. In the boat, she felteveryone’s eyes on them as they rose diagon-ally toward the sky. Gabby gripped the can-vas straps so hard that her knuckles turnedwhite while the boat grew smaller. In time,the tow rope to the boat captured her atten-tion like a hypnotic decoy. It quickly felt as ifshe were a whole lot higher than anyone elsehad been, and she was about to saysomething when she felt Travis touch hershoulder. “Look over there!” he said, pointing.“There’s a ray! Can you see it?” She saw it, black and sleek, moving be-neath the surface like a slow-motionbutterfly. “And a pod of dolphins! Over there! Nearthe banks!” As she marveled at the sight, hernervousness started to subside. Instead, she

227/571began to soak in the view of everything be-low—the town, the families sprawled on thebeaches, the boats, the water. As she relaxed,she found herself thinking that she couldprobably spend an hour up here without evergrowing tired of it. It was extraordinary todrift along at this elevation, coasting effort-lessly on a wind current, as if she were abird. Despite the heat, the breeze kept hercool, and as she rocked her feet back andforth, she felt the harness sway. “Are you willing to be dipped?” he asked.“I promise it’ll be fun.” “Let’s do it,” she agreed. To her ears, hervoice sounded strangely confident. Travis engaged Joe in a quick series ofhand signals, and beneath her, the whine ofthe boat suddenly diminished. The parachutebegan to descend. Staring at the rapidly ap-proaching water, she scanned the surface tomake sure nothing was lurking below.

228/571 The parachute dipped lower and lower,and though she lifted her legs, she felt coldwater splash on her lower body. Just whenshe thought she was going to have to starttreading water, the boat accelerated and theyshot skyward again. Gabby felt adrenalinesurge through her body and didn’t bothertrying to hide her grin. Travis nudged her. “See? It wasn’t bad atall.” “Can we do that again?” she asked.Travis and Gabby rode for another quarterhour, dipping two or three more times; oncethey were brought back to the boat, eachcouple rode once more. By then, the sun washigh in the sky and the kids were gettingfussy. Travis steered the boat toward thecove at Cape Lookout. The water grew shal-low, and Travis stopped the boat; Joe tossedthe anchor overboard, removed his shirt, andfollowed the anchor into the water. The

229/571water was waist-deep, and with practicedease, Matt handed him a cooler. Matt tookoff his shirt and jumped in; Joe handed hima cooler, then followed him into the waterwhile Travis took his place. When Travisjumped in, he carried a small, portable grilland bag of charcoal briquettes. Simultan-eously, the mothers hopped in the water andtook hold of the kids. In minutes, onlyStephanie and Gabby remained on board.Gabby stood in the back of the boat, thinkingshe should have helped, while Stephanie,seemingly oblivious to the commotion, laysprawled on the seats at the front of the boat,continuing to collect the sun. “I’m on vacation, so I feel no need to vo-lunteer my services,” Stephanie announced,her body as still as the boat itself. “Andthey’re so good at it, I feel no guilt about be-ing a slacker.” “You’re not a slacker.”

230/571 “Of course I am. Everyone should be aslacker now and then. As Confucius oncesaid, ‘He who does nothing is the one whodoes nothing.’” Gabby pondered the words, then fur-rowed her brow. “Did Confucius really saythat?” Sunglasses in place, Stephanie managedthe tiniest of shrugs. “No, but who cares?The point is, they had it handled, and mostlikely they found some sort of self-satisfac-tion in their industriousness. Who am I todeprive them of that?” Gabby put her hands on her hips. “Ormaybe you just wanted to be lazy.” Stephanie grinned. “Like Jesus said,‘Blessed are the lazy who lie in boats, for theyshall inherit a suntan.’” “Jesus didn’t say that.” “True,” Stephanie agreed, sitting up. Sheremoved her glasses, stared through them,then wiped them on a towel. “But again, who

231/571cares?” She squinted up at Gabby. “Did youreally want to carry coolers or tents all theway to the beach? Trust me, the experience isoverrated.” After adjusting her top, she rosefrom her spot. “Okay, the coast is clear.We’re good to go.” She slung her beach bagover her shoulder. “You gotta know when tobe lazy. Done correctly, it’s an art form thatbenefits everyone.” Gabby hesitated. “I don’t know why, but Ithink I like the way you think.” Stephanie laughed. “Of course you do,”she said. “It’s human nature to be lazy. Butit’s good to know I’m not the only one whounderstands that essential truth.” As soon as Gabby started to deny it,Stephanie jumped overboard, the splashrising to the lip of the boat. “C’mon,” shesaid, not letting Gabby finish, “I’m just kid-ding. And by the way, don’t think twice aboutanything you did or didn’t do. Like I said,these people draw meaning from doing these

232/571little things. It makes them feel manly andmotherly, which is just the way the worldshould work. As single women, all we have todo is make sure to enjoy it.”Setting up the camp—like getting off and un-loading the boat—was informally ritualized,with everyone apparently knowing exactlywhat to do. A pop-up tent was set in place,blankets spread, and the charcoal lit. Inkeeping with her inactivity on the boat,Stephanie simply grabbed a beer and a towel,picked a spot, and resumed sunbathing.Gabby, unsure of what else to do, spread hertowel and did exactly the same thing. She feltthe effects of the sun almost immediatelyand lay there trying to ignore the fact thateveryone else—aside fromStephanie—seemed to be doing something.“You need lotion,” Stephanie instructedher. Without raising her head, she pointed tothe bag she’d carried with her. “Grab the

233/571tube with fifty SPF. With that pale skin ofyours, you’ll be a lobster in half an hour ifyou don’t. It’s got zinc in it.” Gabby reached for Stephanie’s bag. Shetook a few moments to spread the lotion; thesun did have a terrible way of punishing herif she missed a spot. Unlike her sisters or hermother, she’d taken after her Irish-skinnedfather. It was one of the middling curses ofher life. When she was ready, she lay down on hertowel, still feeling guilty about the fact thatshe wasn’t doing anything to help set up orget the lunch ready to go. “How was it with Travis?” “Fine,” Gabby said. “Just to remind you, he’s my brother, youknow.” Gabby turned her head to shootStephanie a questioning look.

234/571 “Hey,” said Stephanie, “I was only re-minding you so that you’d realize how well Iknow him.” “What does that matter?” “I think he likes you.” “And I think you believe we’re still in sev-enth grade.” “What? You don’t care?” “No.” “Because you have a boyfriend?” “Among other reasons.” Stephanie laughed. “Oh, that’s good. If Ididn’t know you, I might have even believedyou.” “You don’t know me!” “Oh . . . I know you. Believe it or not, Iknow exactly who you are.” “Oh yeah? Where am I from?” “I don’t know.” “Tell me about my family.” “I can’t.” “Then you really don’t know me, do you?”

235/571 After a moment, Stephanie rolled over toface her. “Yes,” she said, “I do.” She couldn’thide the challenge in her tone. “Okay, howabout this? You’re a good girl and alwayshave been, but deep down, you think there’smore to life than always following the rules,and there’s a part of you that craves the un-known. If you’re honest with yourself, Travisis part of that. You’re selective when it comesto sex, but once you commit to someone, thestandards you would normally hold yourselfto go out the window. You think you’ll marryyour boyfriend, but can’t help but wonderwhy you don’t have a ring on your finger yet.You love your family, but you wanted tomake your own decisions about who you be-come, which is why you live here. Even so,you worry your choices will earn your fam-ily’s disapproval. How am I doing so far?” As she’d spoken, Gabby had grown pale.Interpreting a direct hit, Stephanie proppedherself on an elbow. “You want me to go on?”

236/571 “No,” Gabby said. “I was right, wasn’t I?” Gabby exhaled sharply. “Not abouteverything.” “No?” “No.” “Where was I wrong?” Instead of answering, Gabby shook herhead and rolled back onto her towel. “I don’twant to talk about it.” Gabby expected Stephanie to persist, butinstead, Stephanie simply shrugged and layback on her towel, as if she’d never said any-thing at all. Gabby could hear the sounds of childrenfrolicking in the surf and distant, indistin-guishable strains of conversation. Her headspun at Stephanie’s assessment; it was as ifthe woman had known her all her life andwere privy to her darkest secrets. “By the way, in case you’re freaking out, Ishould probably let you know I’m psychic,”

237/571Stephanie remarked. “Weird, but true. Camefrom my grandmother, as far as I could tell.The woman was famous for predicting theweather.” Gabby sat up as a wave of relief washedover her, even though she knew the conceptwas preposterous. “Really?” Stephanie laughed again. “No, of coursenot! My grandmother watched Let’s Make aDeal for years and never once beat the con-testants. But be honest. I was right on themoney, wasn’t I?” Gabby’s thoughts went full circle oncemore, leaving her almost dizzy. “But how . . .?” “Easy,” Stephanie said, lying back down.“I just inserted your ‘amazingly personal ex-periences’ into pretty much every womanwho ever lived. Well, except for the partabout Travis. I guessed about that. But it’spretty amazing, huh? I study that, too, by theway. I’ve been part of half a dozen studies,

238/571and it always amazes me that once you cutthrough the clutter, people are pretty muchthe same. Especially through adolescenceand early adulthood. For the most part,people go through the same experiences andthink the same things, but somehow no oneever escapes the belief that his experience isunique in every conceivable way.” Gabby lay back on her towel, deciding itmight be best if she simply ignoredStephanie for a while. As much as she likedher, the woman made her head spin way toofrequently. “Oh, in case you were curious,” Stephanieremarked, “Travis isn’t seeing anyone. He’snot only single, but he’s eligible.” “I wasn’t curious.” “Since you have a boyfriend, right?” “Right. But even if I didn’t have a boy-friend, I wouldn’t have been curious.” Stephanie laughed. “Yes, of course. Howcould I have been so wrong? I guess I must

239/571have been fooled by the way you keep staringat him.” “I haven’t been staring.” “Oh, don’t be so touchy. After all, he’sbeen staring at you, too.”

Ten From her spot on her towel, Gabbyinhaled the scent of charcoal, hot dogs, bur-gers, and chicken wafting on a gentle breeze.Despite the breeze—and the lotion—Gabby’sskin felt as if it were beginning to sizzle. Itsometimes struck her as ironic that her an-cestors from Scotland and Ireland had by-passed northern climates with similar cloudyweather to move to a place where prolongedexposure to the sun practically guaranteedmelanoma in people like them—or, at thevery least, wrinkles, which was the reasonher mother wore hats even if her time

241/571outside was limited to walking to and fromthe car. The fact that Gabby was subjectingherself to sun damage was something shedidn’t want to think about, because the truthwas she liked having a tan, and getting a tanfelt sort of good. Besides, in just a little whileshe’d put on her shirt again and force herselfto sit in the shade. Stephanie had been uncharacteristicallyquiet since her last comment. In somepeople, that would have struck Gabby as dis-comfort or shyness; in Stephanie, it cameacross as the kind of confidence Gabby hadalways secretly coveted. Because Stephaniewas so comfortable with herself, she madeGabby feel comfortable around her, which,she had to admit, was a feeling she had beenmissing lately. For a long time, she hadn’tbeen comfortable at home; she still wasn’tcomfortable at work; and she was less thanconfident about where things were goingwith Kevin.

242/571 As for Travis—the man definitely madeher uncomfortable. Well, when he wasn’twearing his shirt, anyway. Sneaking a peek,she spotted him sitting in the sand near thewater’s edge, building drip castles with thethree toddlers. When their attention seemedto waver, he rose from his spot and chasedthem into the shallow surf, the sound of theirjoyous screams echoing through the air.Travis seemed to be having as much fun asthey were, and the sight of him made herwant to smile. She forced herself not to, onthe off chance he might see it and get thewrong idea. The aroma finally forced Gabby to sit up.She couldn’t shake the feeling of being onsome exotic island vacation instead of onlyminutes from Beaufort. The gentle waveslapped in steady rhythm, and the few vacantbeach houses behind them looked as if they’dbeen dropped from the sky. Over hershoulder, a path cut through the dunes,

243/571angling toward the black-and-white light-house that had weathered thousands ofrainstorms. Surprisingly, no one else had joined themat the cove, which only added to its appeal.Off to the side, she saw Laird standing overthe portable grill, wielding a pair of tongs.Megan was lining up bags of potato chipsand buns and opening Tupperware contain-ers on a small fold-up table, while Liz wassetting out condiments along with paperplates and plastic utensils. Joe and Mattwere behind them, tossing a football backand forth. She couldn’t remember a weekendfrom her childhood where a group of familiesgot together to enjoy one another’s companyin a gorgeous spot simply because it was . . .Saturday. She wondered if this was the waymost people lived, or whether it had more dowith life in a small town, or whether it wassimply a habit that these friends had formed

244/571long ago. Whatever it was, she suspected shecould get used to it. “Food’s ready!” Laird shouted. Gabby slipped on her shirt and wanderedtoward the food, surprised by how hungryshe was until she remembered that shehadn’t had a chance to eat breakfast. Overher shoulder, she saw Travis doing his bestto herd the kids forward, scurrying aroundthem like a cattle dog. The three of themrushed toward the grill, where Megan stoodguard. “Line up on the blanket,” she ordered,and the toddlers— obviously out of well-trained habit—did exactly as they were told. “Megan has magic powers with kids,”Travis observed over her shoulder. He wasbreathing heavily, his hands on his hips. “Iwish they listened to me like that. I have toresort to chasing them until I’m about topass out.” “But you seem like such a natural.”

245/571 “I love playing with them, not herding.”He leaned toward her conspiratorially. “Butbetween you and me? This is what I’velearned about parents: The more you playwith their kids, the more they love you.When they watch someone who adores theirkids—genuinely delighting in them the sameway they do—well, he just becomes the cat’smeow in the parents’ eyes.” “Cat’s meow?” “I’m a vet. I like animal clichés.” She couldn’t suppress a smile. “You’reprobably right about playing with the kids.My favorite relative was an aunt who wouldclimb trees with me and my sisters while allthe other grown-ups sat in the living roomtalking.” “And yet . . . ,” he said, motioning towardStephanie, “there you were, just lounging onthe towel with my sister, instead of takingthe chance to show these people that youfind their kids irresistible.”

246/571 “I . . .” “I was kidding.” He winked. “The fact is, Iwanted to spend time with them. And in alittle while, they’ll start getting cranky. That’swhen I finally collapse in a beach chair, wipemy brow, and let their parents take over.” “In other words, when the going getstough, the tough get going.” “I think . . . that when the time comes, Ijust might volunteer your services.” “Gee, thanks.” “No problem. Hey—you hungry?” “Starved.” By the time they reached the food, thekids were seated on the blanket with hotdogs, potato salad, and some diced fruit. Liz,Megan, and Allison sat near enough to mon-itor, but far enough away to converse. Allthree, Gabby noticed, ate chicken, along withvarious side dishes. Joe, Matt, and Laird hadtaken seats on the coolers and sat with their

247/571plates on their knees, bottles of beer proppedup in the sand. “Burgers or chicken?” Gabby inquired. “I like chicken. But the burgers are sup-posed to be terrific. I just never really ac-quired the taste for red meat.” “I thought all men ate burgers.” “Then I guess I’m not a man.” Hestraightened up. “Which, I must say, is reallygoing to surprise and disappoint my parents.Being that they gave me a masculine nameand all.” She laughed. “Well . . .” She nodded to-ward the grill. “They clearly saved the lastpiece of chicken for you.” “That’s only because we got here beforeStephanie. She would have taken it, eventhough she’d rather have a burger, just be-cause she knows I’d end up not eating.” “I knew there was a reason I liked her.” They reached for some plates as theyeyed the appetizing variety of side dishes

248/571spread out on the table—beans, casseroles,potato, cucumber, and fruit salads—all ofwhich smelled delicious. Gabby grabbed abun, added some ketchup, mustard, andpickles, and held out her plate. Travisdropped the chicken onto his plate, then lif-ted a burger from the side of the grill and ad-ded it to her bun. He scooped some fruit salad onto hisplate; Gabby added a taste of pretty mucheverything. When she was finished, shelooked at both their plates with an almostguilty expression, which Travis thankfullydidn’t seem to notice. “Would you like a beer?” he asked. “Sounds great.” He reached into the cooler and fished outa Coors Light, then grabbed a bottle of waterfor himself. “Gotta drive the boat,” he explained. Helifted his plate in the direction of the dunes.“How about over there?”

249/571 “Don’t you want to eat near yourfriends?” “They’ll be all right,” he said. “Lead the way.” They trudged toward the low dune, a spotshaded by a sickly, salt-poisoned tree, withbranches all pointing in the same direction,bent by years of ocean breezes. Gabby couldfeel the sand slipping beneath her feet. Trav-is took a seat near the dune, lowering himselfto the sand Indian style in a single move-ment. Gabby sat next to him with consider-ably less grace, making sure to leave enoughdistance between them so they wouldn’t acci-dentally touch. Even in the shade, the sandand water beyond were so bright that shehad to squint. Travis began to cut his piece of chicken,the plastic utensils bending under thepressure. “Coming out here reminds me of highschool,” he remarked. “I can’t tell you how

250/571many weekends we spent here back then.”He shrugged. “Different girls and no kids, ofcourse.” “I’ll bet that was fun.” “It was,” he said. “I remember one night,Joe and Matt and Laird and I were out herewith a few girls we were trying to impress.We were sitting around a bonfire, drinkingbeer, telling jokes, and laughing. . . and I re-member thinking that life couldn’t get anybetter.” “Sounds like a Budweiser commercial.Aside from the fact that you were underageand the whole thing was illegal.” “And you never did anything like that,right?” “Actually, no,” she said. “I didn’t.” “Really? Never?” “Why do you look so surprised?” “I don’t know. I guess . . . I just don’t seeyou as someone who grew up following allthe rules.” When he saw her expression, he