Page 150 of The Book of Summer

Now I’m in Sconset, a world away in a manner I couldn’t have fathomed twelve months ago. My stay is temporary. I’m on furlough, here to visit the last of my former family. It’s strange to think that there is nothing binding me to them. Alas, this home and the people who’ve lived in it will forever hold a special place in my past.

Soon I’ll say good-bye to the last remaining Young, the vivacious Ruby Genevieve. That is, Ruby and a baby girl named Caroline, recently come into this world. Ruby calls her “Cissy,” which is usually short for “sister.” A curious thing for an only child, a sole girl, without a brother for miles.

I’ve come to meet Cissy, and to embrace Ruby one more time. There’s nothing left for me here but sorrow and the burn of sad regret. It’s best to bid the place and its memories farewell. I’ve asked the former Miss Mayhew to pop in on the girls every once in a while, to see that they’re getting along. Though she’s not a Miss anymore. You’re either getting or losing a husband because of this war, all of it happening in such haste.

Well, Cliff House, you’ve been a treat, and you’ve housed a great many people and lives. Now it’s up to you and Ruby to stand strong against the wind. Take care of each other, won’t you?

Forever and always,

Second Lieutenant Mary Young

60

RUBY

June 1945

“Holy crumb,” Mary said as Mrs. Grimsbury set the tea service before them. “She’s an active one, isn’t she?”

They were on the veranda. The sun was high; the clouds were sparse. The Atlantic glimmered like a blanket of blue diamonds. Meanwhile, atop the flagstone, Cissy pattered about on hands and knees, pulling up on an end table here, a piece of outdoor art there.

She was only six months old.

“Yes she’s quite active,” Ruby said, flushed with pride. “Gives me a run for my money all the livelong day. She’s wanted to get up and go since she popped out. She has this spirit, you know? A little ball of soul. It’s like she knew exactly what I needed.”

As if she understood, or perhaps because she did, Cissy peered up at her mother and gave a wide, one-tooth grin as the ocean breeze kicked around her wispy white hair.

“I’m not surprised,” Mary said. “Not in the slightest. You are blessed.”

“She’s a miracle,” Ruby said. “Through and through.”

Every mom believed her babe a miracle, and why not. But for Ruby it had the added punch of being true. There were the doctor’s initial warnings:

“You’re not equipped to carry to term.”

And the later warnings, too:

“It’s only a matter of time. Five months, six at the outside.”

Then the blood last fall, at five and a half months in, the difference having split. Ruby was alone, no one to help, not a single person on whom to call. Never mind the absence of Sam, a hurricane bore down on New England, cutting off Nantucket and therefore Cliff House from the rest of the world. Ruby could only lock the doors, close the windows, and pray. By God, it worked.

The bleeding stopped and Ruby carried to term. Cissy was early, tiny and mighty, which would sum up not only her birth but all the days to follow.

“Are you getting by all right?” Mary asked, and took a sip of tea.

For a moment Mary closed her eyes and smiled, reveling in the respite from her life, and in tea that didn’t taste like lawn clippings. This sort of escape was the very purpose of Cliff House.

“Oh sure, we’re swell,” Ruby said with some sway. “Mrs. G. is a big help, a saint really. And Daddy left me plenty of money. Though I maintain Grimsbury herself has been the biggest gift of all.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” Mary said with a sigh. “To your father’s service.”

“Golly, he wouldn’t have minded a lick,” Ruby said. “The European theater needed you more. Daddy was nothing if not practical.”

“That’s true, but nonetheless…”

“I can hear him right now!” Ruby squeezed her waist with both hands and put on a grumpy face. “What is Mary doing at my funeral? An army nurse tending to a dead body when there are plenty of live ones who need her care?”

Mary chuckled softly.