My One and Only
Page 39A short while later, we were flying over the Atlantic. No sooner had we taken off than the plane seemed to begin its descent to Martha’s Vineyard. A lump came to my throat at the sight of the island. There were the cliffs of Gay Head in variegated streaks of brown and white, the scrubby green bayberry and beach plum gentling the ragged shore. Waves broke against the beach, and I could see gulls flying and fluttering as they dropped shellfish onto the rocks. Just around the curve of Aquinnah was Menemsha, Dutcher’s Dock and home.
Our plane landed without fanfare, and as I got off, I sucked in a deep breath of the salty, pine-scented air. It seemed as if I’d been gone for a year, not just a week. The sun beat down hot on my hair, and the wind blew strands into my eyes. A mockingbird sang from on top of the gray-shingled terminal.
This was where I belonged. Fourth-generation Islander, granddaughter of a fisherman.
I sprang Coco, clipped on her leash and managed to wrestle my luggage out the door. Coco paused, never a fan of automatic doors. “Coco, come on, honey, don’t get Chihuahua on me—oh, my God.”
Oh, my God indeed. Oh, crotch, in fact.
Because there, in front of the terminal, was a Martha’s Vineyard fire truck, eight firemen, a small crowd of regular people and quite a few kids.
And Dennis Patrick Costello, on bended knee.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“DENNIS,” I BREATHED. “Holy testicle Tuesday.”
The horror of the situation splayed out in front of me. After two and a half noncommittal years together, one dodged marriage proposal and a breakup, Dennis was about to pop the question.
My eyes, which felt stretched way too wide, took in the scene. Jeez Louise. Were those Dennis’s—yep. His parents. His nice parents, Sarah and Jack. His two sisters, their spouses, too. Various and sundry children, aka Den’s nieces and nephews…all present. There was his brother, who owned the apartment where Den lived. My father, who gave me a somber nod. The guys from Platoon C—including Chuck, who hated me, as well as Fire Chief Rogers—all present.
“Hey,” Dennis grinned. He was holding something. Two things, in fact. A piece of wire, was it? And a small black velvet box. Which he now opened, revealing the ring I’d bought for myself four weeks ago.
Crotch. Crotchety crotch crotch. This was bad. Plagues of Egypt bad.
Coco, seeing her buddy, bolted forward, and as I appeared to be in a state of paralysis, the leash slipped from my limp fingers.
“Hi, Coco! How are you, cutie? Did you miss me?” Dennis, still on one knee, allowed himself to be licked by my bouncing little dog, then passed the leash to one of the nieces.
“Dennis, what are you doing?” someone squeaked. Oh. It was me.
He grinned up at me. “Harper,” he began.
“Den—” I said. Then words deserted me, leaving only strange little airy noises coming out of my mouth.
“She’s speechless,” said a familiar voice. Theo. My boss was also here. “Now that’s something you don’t see every day.” There was Carol, grinning. Tommy, too. Crikey.
“Harp,” Dennis said, smiling broadly. “This week apart has taught me some big lessons. Big lessons, dude.”
“Dennis—”
“Yeah, no, let me finish. Um…” He paused, frowned, then remembered the rest of what was clearly a rehearsed speech. “I guess I didn’t realize what a…jewel?” He glanced at his mother, who nodded encouragingly. Chuck made a rather loud choking noise. “What a jewel I had in you,” Dennis continued, “but now that we’ve been, you know, away from each other, I…uh…” He paused, thought, then looked up again. “Well, shit, I wrote this all down but I can’t remember now. Whatever. Harp, I think you’re awesome, I love you, and I know I haven’t been the greatest boyfriend ever, but I found your list—” Oh, crotch! The list! I hated myself! Dennis fumbled in his shirt pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper and handed it to me. “Go ahead, he said. “Take a look.”
As if observing myself from above, I unfolded the paper. There was my list. Ah, damn it. Dennis had put check marks next to all of the items…Get rid of rust-bucket car, move out of brother’s garage, get second job. All the things I’d felt the need to detail.
It was his rattail. Automatically, I accepted the nasty little braid, the sense of the surreal growing by the nanosecond.
“See?” he said. “Dude, you got your way.”
Everyone laughed. Well, I, of course, did not laugh.
“So, Harper. Baby. Will you marry me? Make me the happiest guy in the world and all that?”
He did seem happy, his blue eyes gleaming. Everyone looked thrilled—his mom, dad, siblings, all those kids, his coworkers, even Chuck, were smiling. Only my father was solemn.
I looked back at Dennis.
And then, because I couldn’t bring myself to humiliate him in front of everyone he loved…I said yes.
“SEE, YOU LEFT THE LIST that night. When you, uh, proposed,” Dennis said as he drove me home in his new truck. Unfortunately, the ride was brief, too short to tell Dennis there was no way I could marry him. Coco, unaware that her mistress was up Shit Creek sans paddle, snuffled happily at the familiar breezes as we drove from the airport to my place. “And anyway, with you away all this week, well, I guess I finally figured out what a good thing we had going.” He reached over and squeezed my knee with his big hand. I forced a smile.
“Um, so, your parents…How long are they staying?” I asked.
“Just for the weekend. Then they’ll stay with Becky in Boston for a couple days. Mom wants to talk wedding shit with you, so get ready, okay?” He glanced over and smiled.
I swallowed sickly. Obviously, I wasn’t going to marry Dennis. But what had happened? I couldn’t believe he’d done everything on that stupid list. Maybe he’d gotten a little…well, jealous, knowing I was off with Nick in parts unknown.
Whatever the case, he’d gone to some real trouble, arranging this (debacle) proposal. His parents had flown up from North Carolina! And they were such nice people—basically, Ye Wonderful American Parents, the type I didn’t have, full of pride for their offspring, adoration for their grandchildren, enjoying retirement with book clubs and golf games. “Well, it took him long enough, but he came around,” his mother had said as she hugged me, wiping away happy tears. “I hated that rattail, too. Harper, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”
If you only knew, lady, I thought, cringing internally as I hugged her back.
“We should talk, Dennis,” I said now, biting my lip as we pulled into my driveway.
“Oh, yeah. Absolutely,” he said. “But everyone’s here, so…maybe later?” He flashed another grin.
Dennis had even arranged a party—an engagement party, chez moi, and the driveway was lined with cars. Music played, people were crowded onto the deck. Kids flittered about, someone had found a kite…a beautiful summer scene, minus the black dread seeping out of my heart.
The instant I got out of Dennis’s new truck, Kim cantered toward me, her youngest on her hip.
“Harper!” she cried, widening her eyes at me. “Hey! I’ve been calling you! A lot!”
“Hi!” I said a bit desperately. “Oh, hi, Desmond! How are you, my, um, little man?” The toddler regarded me suspiciously. Didn’t blame him.
“Hey, Kim,” Dennis said amiably.
“Dennis! So!” She glanced at my left hand, where the diamond winked like a malevolent eye (not that I was freaking out or anything). “Wow! So! Congratulations are in order, then?”
“Totally,” Dennis said, slinging an arm around me and pulling me in for a kiss. I ducked.
“You bet, dude,” he said. “Come on, Coco-Buns!” He hauled my luggage out of the back of the truck and went in the house.
Kim put her tot down and kissed his curly head. “Go see Daddy,” she instructed, then bellowed over at her house. “Lou! Watch Desmond!” Lou waved in obeisance and called to his son, then led him to my back deck, where the party sounded as if it was in full swing.
Kim looked at me and folded her arms. “So,” she said.
“I know.”
“Dennis called me this afternoon,” she went on. “Told me the plan, and I want you to know, I did tell him I thought you’d probably prefer a quiet night, oh yeah. Said I wasn’t sure you were the public-place-proposal type. Then I called you, like, sixteen times, but you never picked up.”
I rubbed my forehead. “My battery died, and I lost the charger somewhere on the prairie. Damn it!”
“So you said yes?” Kim asked. “Harper…”
“I know, I know. But everyone was there…I just couldn’t tell him no in front of his whole family and half the fire department!”
“He moved in here, did you know that?”
I grimaced. “Number Four on my list.”
“You gave him a list?”
“Don’t bother. I’ve got self-flagellation penciled in for later.”
Kim looked out toward the sea. “So what’s the status on Nick?” she asked.
“I…oh, crap. This is a gumdaddy of a mess, Kim.”
“And speaking of weird Southern expressions, where is BeverLee?”
I closed my eyes. “I don’t know. She and Dad are getting a divorce.”
“No! You’re kidding me!”
“I’m not.” I heaved a sigh.
At that moment, a black-clad figure walked up my driveway, the crushed shells crunching under his feet. “Hello, Kim, and hello, Harper!” he said warmly. “Mazel tov! I have to admit, I never thought this day would come.”
“Hi, Father Bruce,” I said. “Um…hi.”
He frowned. “Everything okay here? You look awful.”
“Yes.”
Kim and I exchanged a look. “Well,” I began. “It’s…I…um…”
“Oh, no,” he said. “Did you sleep with your ex-husband?”
“Father Bruce, I am not prepared to discuss that—”
He threw up his hands. “She did. Oh, Kim, I don’t believe it.”
“Harp!” Dennis’s head popped around the corner of the house. “Come on, dude! This party’s for us, after all. The happy couple.”
WHEN ALL THE GUESTS had finally drifted off around 1 a.m., I was left with Dennis, who, yes, had moved in. Boxes of DVDs, CDs and video game equipment, as well as a few garbage bags of clothes, littered my usually perfectly ordered house.
“This is gonna be so great,” Dennis said, slurring a little from where he was sprawled on the couch. I hadn’t exactly kept track, but he’d had more than a few beers. His eyes were already closed, his long black lashes giving him a childlike look.
“Honey,” I began as gently as I could.
“I’m sorry it took so long for me to get my ass in gear,” he murmured.
“Oh, no…it’s okay. But Den…” I took his hand, hoping to broach our breakup gracefully. Dennis deserved some gentleness from me, and it was high time I recognized that. “Listen, I thought we were pretty clear about why we broke up.”
“I know,” he said. “But I missed you. And you were right. I’m kind of a jerk—”
I closed my eyes and squeezed his hand. “No, you’re not, Dennis, you’re a great guy.”
“—and I needed a kick in the head, and you gave it to me.” He smiled, his eyes still closed. “And I love you.”
Damn it. This was, by far, the biggest shit snarl I’d gotten myself into in some time. “The thing is, Dennis,” I whispered. “I just…I don’t know if we should get married. You’re so sweet, but, um…I think I bullied you into this. There was a reason you said no, don’t you think? I mean, when someone loves you, they shouldn’t hand you a list of demands like someone holding a bunch of hostages, right? And Dennis, you deserve someone who isn’t so… Den?”
He was asleep.
I looked at him a minute longer, his romantic-hero good looks, the ruddy cheeks, curling, glossy hair. “Come on, sweetie,” I said. “Let’s get you to bed.” With some difficulty, I roused him enough to tuck him into my room.
As I pulled up the sheet to cover him, Dennis caught my hand. “I’m really happy you said yes,” he muttered sleepily.
Oh, Den. “We’ll talk in the morning,” I whispered.
Then, my heart leaden, I went to tidy up the house, sorting bottles for recycling, wrapping up the leftovers, scraping plates, sweeping the floor. At long last, I went out to my deck and looked out over the water. Water slapped at the hulls of the boats, and far off, an owl called, the sound lonely and lovely.
But the peace I’d longed for was elusive, of course. Obviously, I’d be breaking up with Dennis in the morning. His parents had scheduled us an entire weekend of fun—they were like that, family outings and picnics and nights of board-game marathons. It was tempting to give Dennis this whole weekend, to pretend we were engaged till his family left on Sunday, then let him down easy. Maybe I could even make him think our breakup was his idea. But I couldn’t last the whole weekend. It wasn’t fair. The sooner he knew the truth, the better. Maybe. Or not? I didn’t know. To the best of my knowledge, no one had ever praised me for my emotional IQ.