Cliff House, Sconset, Nantucket I never expected to write in this book.
It was Sarah’s from the start and it feels like an intrusion, though she would not mind at all.
But really it was my dear Sarah who shaped our family. We wouldn’t have Cliff House, the lookout from America’s edge, if not for her insistence. I’m so glad she pried the money from my miserly hands. She will live forever in this book and in this home.
I’m not much of a writer. Or a reader. But I’ve enjoyed going through this Book of Summer. Sam’s story about the golf match had me laughing for the first time in a while. My greatest wish is that my bright and sparkling Ruby will likewise find some cheer in a not so distant future. I should take her on a spin through our summertime history as memorialized in this book. We’ve had a dang great time. A shame, I’ve only just realized.
My petal is crushed by her mother’s sudden passing, which is what I feared and expected both. I can’t help but feel at fault, though Sarah would smack me at the thought. My lovely wife had breast cancer, discovered only a few months ago. That’s what happens when your mind’s on something else, like a sickly husband. You don’t have time to worry about yourself. And here I sit, alive and hacking. It’s not a bit fair, not that life ever is.
Sarah hadn’t wanted to bother Ruby with the bad news so early in her pregnancy and the doctors said sweet, strong Sarah wouldn’t leave us soon. We planned to tell the family after summer’s end. My lovely bride couldn’t fathom ruining the magic of Cliff House with news like this. Then, last Sunday, Sarah took to bed feeling poorly. She never again stepped foot on the floor.
Good-bye, dear Sarah, you will be missed more than this old scientist could rightly describe. Thank you for what you’ve built—a life, a family, and a house that will keep after the last of us is gone.
Signed,
Philip Young,
Husband of Sarah,
Also known as Dad
44
RUBY
September 1942
September 1, 1942
Dear Ruby Red,
It was darn aces to see you the other week, even if the reason was something less than keen. Mother gone. Can you believe it? I thought she was too reliable for any sort of illness or dying foolery. The best battleship ever conceived.
My Red, it’s up to you. I hate putting on the squeeze but it’s the truth. This is Very Serious Business. You’re the heart of this family now, especially with the bun in that oven. Don’t let your grief get in the way of your obligations.
Enough of that. Well. You asked me to write when I got “home.” Wherever that is. Right now I’m at the Davis-Monthan base in Tucson, AZ. Lord, I’m ready to be done with this training but we need it, and how. Flying these B-24s is like trying to fly a damned house, a pain in the rear even for yours truly, the strongest man to ever live. (Ha! Stop rolling your eyes!) And as nose gunner, I’m the guy who drops the bombs, which means a whole added level of complexity. Sorry, I’m boring you with my woes. The boys from Harvard find these stories endlessly fascinating but you’re too high-minded for such talk.
Okay Red, you keep doing your thing. Don’t worry about me, or Sam, or P.J. for that matter. I saw a poster the other day outside the local watering hole—“The U.S. Needs Us Strong” it said. It was an advertisement for cheese bobbies so not exactly the thing on which hopes, dreams, or great countries are built. But the message is right, in any case.
I love you, Ruby. I can’t wait until we blast Hitler to Kingdom come and the lot of us can get back to meeting up in Sconset every summer, like we’re meant to. Much better than time spent in a tin coffin, hurtling through the air. Sorry, sis! It’s just part of the job.
Take care of yourself.
All my love,
Your brother,
Topper
*
Daddy came out to Cliff House for the last weekend. Not because he wanted to, despite what he said, but because he had to.
Who else would help Ruby close it up? Mother, dead. Two brothers and one husband, in the service. No able-bodied men to hire because they were fighting, too. Even Mary was gone, training in Washington just as she’d threatened to do. Ruby hadn’t thought she’d actually leave, but it seemed Mother’s death was the kick Mary was waiting for.
The U.S. Needs Us Strong, Ruby repeated to herself over and over, so she didn’t fall into a sobbing heap on the floor. Red, you keep doing your thing.
“I’m going back with you,” Daddy said, three days ago, when they’d gathered at the Youngs’ house on Commonwealth Ave. mere hours after burying Mother in Boston. “We’ll close up the summer place together.”
Ruby could almost hear Mother screaming blue murder. As good as Daddy looked a week before, he’d aged a decade in but seven days. Ruby was pregnant but nonetheless in much better shape to close Cliff House, no bones about it. Alas, without the gentle guiding voice of Mother, Ruby couldn’t quite find her way.
And so Philip Young returned to Sconset with his daughter, so they could conclude the season together. On the final night, they danced at the club like it was any old summer. Dad made a good show of standing tall, though he was brittle through his suit. As the band played “Someone to Watch Over Me,” Ruby bit down on her tongue to control her tears.
“Gorgeous night, eh petal?” Daddy said, trying to keep Ruby moving across the floor.
“Lovely,” she answered, then clenched down harder.
“Sarah adored Labor Day Weekend.”
Ruby nodded, once again hearing her mother’s voice in her mind.
“What are you fussing about, Ruby?” she’d say, for Ruby was always a little boo-hoo at that last oyster party and during the farewell dance. “The end? Why, Ruby dear, the end is the best part. All the sugar is at the bottom of the cup.”
Of course, there was hardly any sugar left in America these days.
Insides trembling, Ruby rested her chin on Daddy’s shoulder so he could not see her face.
“You hear from Mary yet?” he asked.
“Not since the funeral. I’m glad things are going well for her.”
Gosh darn it, Ruby missed that old gal, their favorite wet sock. Everyone needed a straight man and Cliff House had lost hers, for now. Another part Ruby would have to play. Jesus, this cast was getting slim. Ruby wondered how much more she’d have to take on.
“P.J. must be proud,” Daddy said, spinning his daughter as much as his whittling strength would allow.
“We all are,” she said.
Daddy spun her again and Ruby let her weary body be dragged along. Lord, was she tired. Every piece of her was heavy and untethered. Even Ruby’s stomach, so often jumpy from the babe, was melancholy and still.
“And how is Sam?” Daddy asked. “Bound for the South Pacific, you said?”