6

The Book of Summer

Ruby Genevieve Young

August 10, 1939

Cliff House, Sconset, Nantucket Island

Last night, when Sam and I were on the beach, I was sure he was going to ask for my hand. Absolutely positive! A million butterflies strummed against my chest as we strolled along.

I did recognize the possibility that he might bungle the situation, or have a hard time getting round to it. Sam can be timid, downright shy at times, which is but one reason I love him so—that faint blush and stammer are wildly endearing! When a gal has brothers forever knocking her upside the head, she comes to appreciate those with a more delicate disposition.

So back to last night. We were partway down Sconset Beach. The sun had set but our path was well lit thanks to the golden misty moon and Mom’s soirée on the bluff above. She’d strung five hundred lights between the trees. A veritable star-shine heaven over the back lawn. The noise and mirth from the guests shone even brighter.

“What a night,” I said to Sam, trying to sound encouraging. “It’s like anything could happen, as though there’s no limit to what’s possible.”

I squeezed his hand extra hard.

“Ruby,” he responded at last.

I beamed with gusto, stretching my face to near-collapse. Then I braced myself, waiting for the knee and the ring. It promised to be a good hunk of ice, too. The Packards have quite a lot of money and wouldn’t mind me saying so.

“Sam…?” I said, blinking.

Get on with it already!

“This world is changing,” he said.

“Yes! Yes, it is, my love!”

“I have no doubt,” he went on. “The problems in Europe will become ours.”

Europe? What the dickens did Europe have to do with us?

“The entire world will soon be embroiled in this fight,” he continued.

I started to speak, intent on pointing out that talk of war was just about the least appropriate topic to broach on a romantic walk, when, all of a sudden, a man came sprinting down the beach, screaming like an Apache.

While Sam was startled, I remained unplucked. It was my brother. He had on Daddy’s clothes and a fake beard.

“My wife!” he shouted, ranting, chucking golf balls at us both. “Get away from my wife!”

Playacting, a gag, a Topper special to the hilt. There isn’t a night so perfect my baby brother can’t ruin it with one of his tireless pranks.

“Get lost, creep!” I said as Topper ranted about his alleged wife—me—who was stepping out behind his back.

“It’s only my brother,” I then told Sam, who looked stricken and scared.

“But…” he sputtered, eyes jockeying back and forth between us.

“He’s easy to recognize, what with that gangly height, not to mention the blasted camera forever bobbing from his neck.”

“Gangly?” Topper said. “I prefer to think of myself as stately. Possessing an immaculate and powerful presence.”

“I’m sure you do,” I said with a snort.

“You two,” Sam grumbled. “I can’t fathom the depravity…”

Depravity? Forget the romance, now my beau was red-faced and cheesed.

“Oh, Sammy, everything’s fine,” I said. “You know Topper. He likes to play the fool. And he’s quite accomplished to that end.”

Topper lifted his camera. Click. Right in Sam’s face.

Well, you would’ve thought he walloped him upside the head. Sam unleashed a squall of curse words, then turned and stormed off down the beach.

“Swear to the dickens!” Sam called as he tromped away. “You two must’ve been raised in a zoo! A monkey exhibit! Someplace where a suitable evening can’t be had until someone throws his feces at a guest!”

My mouth fell open. Topper and I locked eyes. Then my brother collapsed into a fit of laughter on the damp sand.

Instead of following Sam, which would’ve been the shrewder course, I chewed out Topper something fierce. By the end of it, though, we were both in stitches. He does a spot-on impersonation of not only fake double-crossed husbands but also stupefied real-life boyfriends and feces-hurling primates. (Oh, Sam! If you ever read this, please forgive me! It’s only because you’re such a doll that I can excuse his boorish behavior in the first place.)

Alas I fear we might be done for, kaput, Sam and me. There is only so much Topper someone with manners can take. Though they were friends once, something happened about the time Sam left for Princeton. A lack of some understanding, as each of them tells it. Two different people, is what they mean. If either boy reads this, please clue a gal in. And set aside your differences for a person who loves you both.

In any case, I’ll insist my brother fix this situation. If he can’t, well, he’ll need to find me a new man since he’s the one who constantly chases them away. If I ever hope to get married, I should probably keep that particular monkey in his cage.

Yours sincerely,

Ruby Young