Secrets in Summer(58)

The intensity of his response surprised her. “I know. I’m going to keep an eye on her. I’ve asked her to help me with story time at the library. I really like her, Nash. It’s just kind of odd, I guess, wanting to spend time with my ex-husband’s wife’s daughter.”

“She’s a kid. Someone ought to keep an eye on her.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ll be seeing her every day. Plus, I don’t know how to say this—” Darcy hesitated, tearing the last bit of label off the beer bottle. “I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m interested in Boyz. He—”

“I don’t think that.” Nash abruptly shoved back his chair, rose, and paced away from Darcy. His hands were clenched at his side.

She could see the tension in his shoulders. Oh, no, she thought. He’s going to tell me he’s seeing someone else. She waited.

“Look,” Nash said suddenly, turning to face her. “I don’t talk about this to anyone. And I don’t want to dwell on it. You don’t need to say anything. But I want to tell you. Not just because of Logan and the heroin.”

Darcy didn’t move a muscle. She had no idea what he was going to say, and the need to know burned like a fire in her heart.

Nash stared at the horizon as he spoke. “I had a brother. He died of an overdose of heroin. He was twenty-two.”

“Oh, Nash. That’s awful.” She sat quietly for a moment. “What was his name?”

“Edgar. What a hell of a name. Grandfather’s.” Nash sat down in his chair, his eyes looking far away. “We used to call him ‘Edsel’ because of the car thing, you know, Nash and Edsel. Our family lived in western Mass. Dad taught at Amherst. Mom did the mom thing. We were a typical more or less happy family. I’d just joined a law firm and moved to Boston. I had an apartment near BU. Edsel hadn’t finished college yet. He’d been using for three years but I didn’t have a clue. I thought he was bored, because he was really smart. He was scary smart. He started and stopped going to college several times. When I found out, I thought if he came and lived with me, in Boston, you know, where no one knew what a fuckup he was, where there were lots of colleges, and I could keep an eye on him…” Nash set his elbows on the table and leaned his head in his hands. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “I was such an asshole. Going off in my fucking suit and tie, carrying my fucking briefcase. But he was cool about it. I told him to use my laptop to look for jobs. When I got home at night I’d fix dinner or bring takeout, and we’d eat and watch TV and make stupid jokes and drink beer.”

Darcy leaned as far as she could over the table. She could barely hear Nash. It was as if he was talking to the ground.

“He told me he had a job, just grunt work at a removal firm. I believed him. He’d come home exhausted, he’d tell me about the guys he worked with. Man, Edsel was a major bullshit artist. About a week after he ‘started work,’ I came home and found him on the bathroom floor with a needle in his arm. I called an ambulance right away. They got there fast, but he was gone.”

“Oh, Nash. I’m so sorry.”

Darcy watched Nash, trying to read his face, his posture. What should she do? He seemed so alone, and he was so near she could almost touch him. She wanted to go to him, to embrace him. But she knew his sorrow belonged to him, he held it close to him, it was huge and dreadful and the best she could do was respect his grief. She sat quietly, waiting.

Finally Nash looked up at Darcy. His expression was bleak. “So, yes, I believe you did the right thing with the girl.” He rose, walking over to the grill. “The coals are almost ready.”

“I’ll get the salad.” Darcy respected his need to change the subject. She tossed the salad, then set out the plates and utensils he’d brought to a side table.

Nash closed the grill. “Five minutes.”

Darcy cocked her head. “One thing, Nash.”

He looked at her warily.

“Law firm? Briefcase?”

Nash barked an abrupt laugh. “All true. I was going to save the world. Ha. I couldn’t even save my brother.” He slumped into his chair. “Yeah, I went to law school, passed the Massachusetts bar. Got a job with a firm in Boston that did ten percent of its work pro bono. But after Edsel…I didn’t see the point. I wanted out of my head. I was driving myself nuts with words. So I joined a construction crew building houses on the Cape. Now that was work. That was clear. Lift boards, pound nails, at the end of the day you’ve got a wall. Keep doing that, you’ve got a house. Do it well, that house will last a long time.” He nodded to himself. “Yeah.”