As we neared the Gunthers’ driveway, I could already hear the dogs barking, racing down the hill toward us.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll ask him. But I seriously doubt he thinks of you as a threat.” I laughed.
Normally, when we passed the Gunthers’ house, we ran. But now Jonas stopped dead in the middle of the road. “Thank you, Elle, for clarifying that.”
The dogs had reached the fence and were frantic, angry. They threw themselves against it, not used to being ignored.
“We need to move,” I said. “They’re going to break through the fence.” But Jonas just stood there while the dogs upped their pitch. “Jonas!”
“I can make it home from here on my own,” he said coldly. And headed down the road away from me.
At the top of the hill, Mr. Gunther emerged from his studio. “Astrid! Frida!” he called to his dogs. “Herkommen! Jetzt!”
When I walked to the beach the next day, Jonas never appeared.
“Dad,” Conrad says, “did you know Eleanor is a cradle snatcher? She’s in love with a ten-year-old.”
It’s late in the summer. Mum has gone to the dump before it shuts. Leo is at the sink, deboning a bluefish he caught this morning—they’ve been running up the coast, churning the waters close to shore.
“He’s just some kid who follows me around. And he’s twelve, not ten,” I say, but I can feel my cheeks turning red.
“Who follows you?” Leo asks. He’s been on tour with some jazz band most of the month. I’m glad he’s here. Mum is much happier when Leo is home.
“That kid Jonas who’s always hanging around,” Conrad says. “He’s Elle’s boyfriend.”
“That’s nice,” Leo says, disappearing into the pantry.
I hear things falling. Leo curses.
“Stop being a jerk. He’s just a little kid,” I shove my chair away from the table and clear my plate.
“Exactly,” Conrad says. “Cradle snatcher.”
“Does anyone know where your mother hides the Saran wrap?” Leo calls out. “Why does she keep buying wax paper? Who uses wax paper?”
Anna has been sitting on the sofa trying to put her puzzle ring back together. Now she looks up, smelling blood in the water. “Wow, Conrad,” she says. “Jealous, much?” She smiles. “I think Conrad has a crush on you, Elle.”
Conrad’s face twists into an odd shape. He forces a laugh.
“What do you think, Elle?” Anna says. “Do you like Conrad? He wants you to be his girlfriend.”
“Stop it, Anna,” I say. “That’s repulsive.” And yet I feel a disconcerting ding of recognition, as if what she has said reminds me of something I already know but can’t remember.
“Screw you,” Conrad spits at Anna.
She can sense his weakness and circles in for the kill. “Incest is quite a few levels worse than cradle snatching, Con.”
Conrad leaps up and grabs Anna’s arm hard. “Shut up. Shut up or I’ll break it.”
“Calm. Down,” Anna says, baiting him. “I’m only trying to help. I want to make sure you know it’s a sin before you do anything you’ll regret.”
Leo walks out onto the porch just as Conrad punches Anna in the face.
“Conrad!” In two strides he is there, grabbing his son by the shirt, pulling him off Anna with his huge, fish-smelly hands. “What the hell is wrong with you?!” He drags his son across the porch, shoves him out the door so hard that Conrad falls to the ground. “Get up!”
We watch as Conrad tries to fight back his tears.
“Baby,” Anna says with a snide smile. She goes back to the couch and picks up her book, keeps reading as if she has no idea she has just set the house on fire.
* * *
—
Dixon’s end-of-the-season beach picnic has always been my favorite night of the summer. The whole Back Woods gathers for a massive bonfire at Higgins Hollow. We collect crisp sun-blackened seaweed from the tidemark for tinder, drag gnarled driftwood into a pile, watch the fire spit embers into the night sky. Everyone dances and sings. At dusk, we light sparklers and run around like fireflies. The grown-ups drink too much. We spy on them from the dunes and play capture the flag. People cook lobster and steamers in enormous speckled-enamel pots, wrap seawater-soaked raw corn in tinfoil and throw it onto the fire.
We are hamburger people. My mother always insists on bringing sweet relish, mustard, and raw onions that make her breath unbearable. She passes around radishes with salt as if they are some kind of delicacy.