Barnegat Bay - 20. Chapter 20

Before we could talk with Spence, we had to wait. But that was all right because we had a lot to wait through.

First, there was Mary and me. It was one thing to accidentally fall asleep on her bed, another for her to see me unintentionally naked, and a third for me to start to see and touch her in any way other than as her doctor. And that somehow seemed easier for her.

“We’ve already touched each other,” she said, and that was true – we’d held hands and casually kissed for my parents. Still, we needed to move from being friends to becoming wife and husband.

We weren’t really nervous. “I’ve been wanting to do this for months,” she told me, the first time she touched my bare chest in bed.

“I’m ticklish,” I warned. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“I knew you weren’t so innocent.”

“Did Claire tell you that?”

“No. There’s simply a confidence in your touch. I noticed it during my first exam.”

“We take classes,” I joked, though there was no reason. But soon after that, we decided there was personal history we didn’t to share.

“I’m fine with that,” she confessed.

Second, Claire had to shift to sleeping on the couch – and all that went with that. And it was a lot more than her simply moving out of Mary’s bedroom on weekends so I could stay. We all had to find new ways of looking at things. Of talking. Keeping secrets. Handling confidences.

“Should I get you a real wedding ring?” I asked Mary, sometime in May. She’d been wearing a cheap piece of costume jewelry she’d bought in a drug store in Niagara Falls.

“Did Claire suggest that?”

I was surprised. “What makes you think so?”

“Because she and I have talked about it. Of how to approach you, if you didn’t think of it yourself.”

“Did you ever consider asking me?”

Mary looked dumbfounded. “No,” she admitted. “Guess I should’ve, huh?”

“I would have asked you. In fact, I just have.”

She kissed me for that. One of our new, long kisses.

“I should tell Claire,” she immediately followed. “Not about the ring. Just that I should have spoken with you.”

I laughed. “It’s not your fault. It shouldn’t’ve taken me a month to realize.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“And I always am – or so I’ve also been told. That doesn’t mean that some of that shouldn’t stop.”

When we told Claire – together – she also laughed. “I guess I do belong on the couch.”

Third, the guys had to come back to Barnegat. They did, as expected, on a middle weekend in May. That meant they were all ready the following weekend, just before Memorial Day. They didn’t need the kind of training the new lifeguards did. After both weekends, they went back to the city for their last weeks of classes, their finals, and graduation. That came mid-June, and then the guys moved to Barnegat full-time.

Mary and I didn’t see them till Memorial Day. Mary’s aunt decided they only needed two weeks to get the store ready, and Mary managed to just be there Mondays through Thursdays.

“I really need to help Doc in the office,” she explained.

“That’s fine,” her aunt allowed. “I don’t want to fully stock the shop anyway.”

“Business has been slow all year in Toms River,” Mary told me. “So she’s not sure what’s going to happen on Barnegat and in Asbury Park.”

“But she’s still going to open the stores?”

“There’s no reason not to. She owns both buildings, and they’d just sit empty. Besides, labor is cheap.”

“Maybe you should unionize the girls,” I joked.

“Why?” Mary said, honestly. “We all realize how little there is to do. The jobs have always been a vacation.”

Mary’s family didn’t have a summer home on Barnegat, her father only being a plumber – and with six kids.

And though Mary and I didn’t see the gang immediately, Claire saw them their first Saturday night. They’d arranged to meet at Jenkinson’s.

“Pretty thin welcoming committee,” Mike announced, looking around for a surprise. Claire told us this later. “We were hoping for better representation.”

“He doesn’t mean Mary and Doc,” Larry amended. “He wants to see the baby.”

“Goo, goo, ga, ga, gan,” Mike drooled

“We all do,” Al admitted. “We’re hoping she got Mary’s features and none of Doc’s.”

“We’re betting on it, actually.”

“Doc’s pretty good looking,” Claire nicely defended. Though that was followed by silence.

“The awkwardness of old girlfriends?” I’d asked her. “New wives?”

“I wasn’t quite sure. But it was definitely uncomfortable.”

“He is good-looking,” Spence had simply cut through, laughing at his friends. “The guys don’t know how to say that while still seeming like... well, guys.”

“And what does that make you?” Mike poked.

Spence laughed again. “More sure of myself?”

Since no one could deny that, nobody tried. Then Spence asked Claire to dance, and they moved away.

“After that, it was back to last summer,” she finished. “The guys all asked me to dance, and Al seemed to realize that – with you taken – I was free. And this time he wasn’t going to lose.”

“How do you feel about that?” Mary asked.

Claire shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But it sure was fun dancing.”

“I thought he had a girlfriend,” I said. “From last summer.”

Claire didn’t have an answer for that, either.

In mid-June, we all went to graduation – and it was great to meet everyone’s families. We’d expected Larry’s, Mike’s, and Al’s, since they lived in the city. But Spence’s parents had come from Vermont.

“He’s almost the first in our family to finish high school,” his mother told us. “So we had to be here.” She hesitated a bit. “It would be even better if he had a job.”

“If we all had jobs,” Mike grouched. “Everyone in the world.”

“Spence knows he can always come back to the farm,” his father assured us. He turned to his son. “You do know that?”

“Oh, yeah.” Spence had smiled and nodded. But you could see in his eyes that he’d rather sell apples on Broadway.

Mike, Larry, and Al’s families were followed by huge contingents of relatives. But since no one could afford a party that big, they’d all pooled what they had, and we ended up at Larry’s parents’ place – the largest apartment. After that late-lasting celebration, Spence’s parents came home with mine and slept in their spare room.

“They’re good people,” my mother told me afterward. “I don’t agree with their politics. But somebody had to vote for Hoover.”

“Why?” my father asked.

Mom laughed. “Because it’s only polite.”

That weekend, the whole gang was back on Barnegat, and before we realized, it was almost July.

“There’s no reason not to talk with Spence now,” Mary pointed out.

“No, there isn’t.”

“How do you think he’ll take it?”

We were over the store, unpacking . The days seemed passed when I could rush to the train and get on empty-handed. Ann had requirements.

“You know him best,” Claire told Mary. And I agreed.

“I may have – a year ago,” she acknowledged. “But we’ve hardly seen each other.”

Even this summer, there hadn’t been opportunity. The guys were at Jenkinson’s as usual on weekends and sometimes on other nights. But Mary wouldn’t go. Partly because of Ann, but as much not without Claire or me. And I was in the city till almost six on Fridays, and Claire was in Toms River. Most weekends, she didn’t get to Barnegat till Saturday dinners.

I couldn’t wait to get out of New York, but I still had to work. And this year, Mary and Ann – in her carriage – would meet me at the station.

Sometimes, one of the guys would be with them, but never Spence.

“He’s happy to see me,” Mary said, “even when you and I only stop at Jenkinson’s for an hour. But I haven’t seen him otherwise.”

“He’s friendly enough.”

“Yes. But in some ways, he acts like you’re my father. He’s always looking to you for permission.”

“Is he really?”

“Yes.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

Mary just laughed.

“Why don’t you go to him?” I suggested. “Or tell the guys to let him know you’d like to dance. Remind him it’s not my strength.”

“He can see that.”

“Oh, thanks.”

And Mary laughed again. Though this time, I was with her.

“I wouldn’t want to dance with him anyhow,” she soon went on. “Not the way I did last summer. If I even could.”

“It’s been two-and-a-half months. You’re fine.”

“That’s good to know.”

“Why don’t we just invite Spence to breakfast?” Claire put in. “Sunday – before he has to work.”

“The four of us? Wouldn’t that seem suspicious?”

“We could invite the gang, too. But then we’d have to distract them. So we could talk.”

“I could take them out on my boat.”

“Then you’d be gone.”

“I could offer them my boat – saying how little it’s been used. No one’s even sleeping on it.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t – really. Though they know they’re welcome – I reminded them first thing. And you know how little privacy they get in the cottage.”

Mary and I fortunately had more – her aunt was barely around. And we’d gotten a double bed for the apartment.

“But if you asked the guys out on the boat, why wouldn’t Spence want to go along?”

He would, of course. And there went our opportunity to talk.

“We can’t put this off,” Mary insisted.

“How about we go to Jenkinson’s?” Claire suggested. “Next Saturday. And tell your family you’ll be staying longer than usual.”

“That’s easy enough. My aunts and cousins love watching Ann.”

“We can all dance, and at some point, I’ll take Spence away to talk business. He’s used to my doing that. Then you can join us on one of the porches.”

“That’s possible,” Mary agreed. “It seems normal enough.”

“And if our talking gets serious, we can go to my house. Right now, no one’s using it but me.”

“You don’t think he’ll feel cornered?” I asked.

“I have no idea,” Claire admitted. “But we all want to talk with him – together. So it doesn’t strain any one of us.”

And since we didn’t know what else to do, we decided on Saturday.

“We can always stop,” Mary reminded us. “If anything awkward happens.”

“I don’t think Spence is that kind of guy,” I said. And he wasn’t.

But he wasn’t stupid, either. After he and Claire had been talking, and Mary and I showed up, he simply said, “I’ve been waiting for this.” Then he glanced around. “Is there someplace more private?”

There were other people on the deck.

“It’s not what you think,” Claire assured him.

“It’s exactly what I think,” he lobbed back

“I mean, it isn’t a problem – not for the three of us. Not...” And then she stopped. “I’m making this worse, aren’t I?”

Everybody laughed.

“Can we just go somewhere?” Spence asked again. He turned to me. “How about your boat?”

“That’d be fine.”

It was even closer than the short walk to Claire’s house. Though we all started talking even before we left the pier.

“I know the baby’s mine,” Spence began. “And I promise I’ll take any responsibility. I’ll do everything I can. Even without a job.”

“At least, you’re working now.”

“And you know how long that lasts – and how little we make. For me, that’s fine. Summer here’s cheaper than renting my room in the city. And I have spending money.”

“How long have you known?” Mary asked.

Spence didn’t hesitate. “Since New Year’s – as soon as you told us you were married. It didn’t make sense. You gave us a reasonable story – that it all happened after we left here. But still...”

“Did the other guys feel the same?”

“They were having a party – they didn’t want to miss that. Though we talked a bit afterwards – back at school. But none of us like to gossip. Besides, we didn’t know you were having a baby then. You didn’t look like it.”

“But once I had?”

“Again, it was the first thing I thought. And I wanted to call you. Or see you. Or write. But there was...”

And he pointed at me.

Mary just smiled. “I love Doc, Spence. We all know Ann’s half yours – and nothing will change that. But nothing changes the other.”

We walked for a moment, without speaking.

“Should we have told you sooner?” I finally asked. “Mary didn’t want to put any pressure...”

“It didn’t matter. I knew in...” He turned to Mary. “When did you have the baby?”

“We told people May. But it was actually mid-April.”

“The sixteenth.”

And we all watched Spence counting backward on his fingers. He laughed as soon as he saw us.

“That happened fast,” he went on.

“Not exactly the first night,” Mary admitted.

“But not even a month. And we were so careful.”

“Lots of people are,” I said – trying not to sound like a doctor. “It sometimes doesn’t matter.”

“Then when did you...” He stopped. “When did you even have time to see each other? I mean, I know your story, but...” He considered. “Mary and I were together till the end of August – even later... Right till I left.”

And then the truth came out – in pieces. By then, we were on the dock by my boat, and the three of us told the story – each filling in details the others forgot. Spence simply listened.

“I’m trying to absorb it all,” he said at one point.

“And this is the simple version,” I joked.

“You see why we didn’t tell you sooner?”

“You might’ve made it easier if you had – on yourselves. Mary and I could’ve gotten married. I think she still loved me then.”

“I don’t feel any less for you now.”

“Except you married Doc.”

“Because I feel more for him – and you’ve heard how that happened. But as I said – it doesn’t change anything else.”

Spence reached to take her hand, and Mary let him. Then she eased it away.

“Anyway, we could’ve gotten married,” he went on. “And I would’ve quit school... And found a job... And if I couldn’t, we could’ve gone back to Vermont.”

“Would your parents...”

“You heard them at graduation – I’m always welcome. They don’t like to get up and milk the cows any more than the rest of us.” He grinned. “Besides, my parents are a lot less small town than you’d think. A lot happens there. I’m not the first guy in my family to get someone pregnant. Sometimes, she’s not even unmarried.”

We all said nothing to that. But we were smiling.

“So you could’ve told me,” he said. “And things would’ve been different. But we would’ve been fine.”

“It’s not what I wanted,” Mary finally told him – quietly. “Not for you. Or us.”

“Sometimes you....”

She cut him off. “Are you disappointed?”

“Well, I have my degree,” he said, grinning. “If that’s what you mean.” He hesitated then smiled again. “Though concentrating for the last two months hasn’t been easy.”

“I’m sorry...”

“It’s not your...”

“Then it’s no one’s... And we all know that.”

“We do,” Claire reassured him. And I echoed that.

Spence looked at Mary. Then at me. And he couldn’t seem to stop smiling.

“You really are in love – I can see that. And I see it even more when you’re with Ann.”

“You’ll always be able to see her,” Mary assured him. “We can say you’re her godfather... or uncle... or anything you want. And we can tell her the truth when she’s old enough. I never want to come between you.”

“And how does her other father feel?” Spence asked.

“You know that already,” I said.

“But maybe I need to hear it.”

“What Mary said is absolutely how I feel. I only hope Ann is as much my daughter as she is yours.”

“Even if we add all that together, she’ll still be more Mary’s.”

“As much. Never more,” Mary insisted. “And I’ll give some up... to share equally.”

Spence chuckled at that.

“What?” Mary had to ask.

“I’ve seen some of that... a bit... happen at home.”

“And?”

He shrugged. “It kind of becomes natural... Expected.”

“Well, you’ve already missed her baptism,” Claire filled in. She seemed as relaxed as the three of us. “So we’ll have to tell you about that.”

“I’m sure you were the godmother.”

“One of them.”

“But which religion?” he asked, mostly seeming curious. “Don’t we have three?”

“Catholic,” Mary said. “Though maybe – when Ann learns about everything – she’ll change.”

“If she doesn’t decide...” And he pointed to me again.

“If you knew how little religion I have...”

“Couldn’t be less than me... So if Mary really believes... Then Catholic is best.”

“It won’t be the hardest thing we have to figure out.”

“As long as we keep talking.”

We completely agreed on that – the four of us. And while we were all still smiling, Spence glanced toward my boat.

“I don’t suppose you still have any of that Scotch in there – I could sure use a drink. It’s not every night that I’m absolutely sure I’m a father.”

“There might be some,” I admitted. “To tell you the truth, I haven’t been thinking a lot about the boat. I barely remembered to pull it out of the water last fall, and the only reason it went back in was my uncle claimed it was ruining his lawn.”

“Lawn?” Spence observed. “It’s sand and weeds.”

“He has delusions.”

After we laughed, I went to check on the Scotch. I soon came back with half of a decent bottle.

“Will it kill us?” Mary questioned.

“Consider it aged,” I suggested. “And you don’t have to drink.” Though I held up four glasses.

“To Ann,” Spence quickly toasted.

“To the three of you,” Claire added on.

“Four,” Mary corrected. “You’ve been with us from the start.”

Claire just grinned.

“And now I’m supposed to say something,” I admitted. “But I can only say I hope you’re all as happy as I am.”

“Here. Here,” Spence proclaimed.

“Now what the hell does that mean?”

“I’ve never had any idea.”