Osprey Island

And then, in a flurry of twenty-four-hour-old love, Gavin and Janna were down the stairs and disappearing up the beach. It was Reesa who spoke first, wagging her head in marvel. “How about that?” she said. “I introduced them at Art and Penny’s yesterday . . . who’d’ve thought? I’ve never seen her like this—she’s usually harder, you know? Harder to crack. What?” Reesa noticed the look on Suzy’s face. “What? Suze? What’s the . . . ?”

Suzy shuddered off the feeling that had overcome her. “I just . . . I was just hearing . . . I mean, do you know him?”

“He’s the one . . . Gavin, the Stanford one . . . Heather’s . . .”

“No, I know that,” Suzy said. “I was just hearing about him, from Brigid.”

Reesa shook her head; the name meant nothing to her.

Suzy’s dislike of this Gavin kid surged. “The girl after Heather and before Miss Janna. Brigid. She’s one of the Irish.”

Reesa’s face registered amusement and confusion. “There was a girl between Heather and Janna? For how long—three days?”

“Not even, I don’t think,” Suzy said.

Reesa’s good humor soured. Her hands went to her hips and her smile puckered in. She was awfully protective of Janna. “So, he’s a player.”

Suzy nodded ruefully. “Apparently he just disappeared on Brigid yesterday . . . One night he’s inviting her to sleep with him on the beach—” Both women shook their heads, rolled their eyes. People came from off-island and thought it romantic to camp on the beach, while Islanders knew far too well that it was neither romantic nor comfortable, and between the sand crabs and the mosquitoes it ranked up there as one of the more regrettable experiences to be had on Osprey. “—And the next night he’s nowhere to be found. Not a word of anything, Brigid says—no explanation, no apology, nothing . . . She’s sort of crushed,” Suzy said. “I feel for her.”

Reesa frowned. “And here I was getting all psyched for Janna. I’m plotting the wedding, packing her up, shipping her off to California.” She’d spent the day envisioning it all: the dress (strapless, with a full skirt, in something darker, not white, something to set off Janna’s paleness—maybe red, deep red), the reception (here, at the Lodge, in fall, when the summer folk were gone, as the leaves began to change— maybe the dress would be a burnt orange, or an autumn red, like Japanese maple), the sweet farewells, the infrequent visits home, just for the weekend, a baby or two in tow . . .

Suzy said, “I don’t think he’s looking to take someone away with him.”

Reesa didn’t get it.

“I think he’s looking for a way onto Osprey.”

“What is he, insane?” Now Reesa was worried. Understanding lit her face. “He’s just looking for a way back to Heather! I’m such an idiot!” She smacked her own forehead in emphasis. “Here I am, just thinking, La la la, a love story for Janna . . . He’s just trying to stay close to Heather! Oh Jesus . . . poor Janna! What a little shit.”

Suzy, coming quickly to regret the leaps of logic being made from her nuggets of gossip, began to hedge. “I don’t know, Reese. For all we know it could all be in earnest. They’re kids. He’s probably not scheming to—”

“Scheming or not,” Reesa said, firm conviction in her voice, “I don’t need some stupid college boy messing with Janna. That’d be just enough to scare her off the outside world. And I wonder why will no one leave this place?”

Suzy softened. “They leave,” she said quietly. “Some do, some leave . . .”