The Gin and Chowder Club

Samuel’s reverie was interrupted by the sound of chunks of ice sliding into the old metal tub on the porch. The boys were laughing about something. Samuel decided that Isaac was teasing his brother again.

“Hey, Dad, are Uncle Nate and Noelle coming tonight?” Isaac asked through the open window.

“They are.” Samuel nodded. He glanced at the clock and decided that it was late enough. He usually enjoyed having a cocktail when he was cooking, but today he had put it off. Now, with the chowder simmering on the ancient gas stove, Samuel went out onto the porch and handed Isaac his glass. His son filled it with ice cubes, splashed gin over the ice, topped it off with tonic, and squeezed a slice of lime into the mixture. He pushed the lime under the ice with his finger, gave it a quick stir, licked his finger, and handed the glass to his father.

“Nice stirrer,” Samuel said as he took a sip and eyed his older son. “How’d you get so good at this?”

“Watchin’ you,” Isaac said with a mischievous smile.

As Samuel sat down on the wooden porch swing, the sun tried to break through the sullen clouds. A mild ocean breeze was pushing the clouds inland, and a bit of blue sky was finally visible. The old rambling Cape Cod house was situated on a bluff on the northern side of Nauset Light, and its back porch looked out over the vast expanse of the rugged shoreline that extended all the way to Coast Guard Beach. Asa leaned on the railing. He loved the ocean. When he and Isaac were younger, their father had told them that England was just over the horizon, and they had believed him. Soon after, Samuel had found them pushing off in their inflatable raft at low tide.

“We’re going to England,” they had shouted over the surf. “Tell Mom we’ll be back for supper.”

Samuel had had to swim out and pull them back in.

Both boys loved the ocean, but Asa was drawn to it in a deeper way and was captivated by the mystery of its deep waters. He was also fascinated by the faithful lighthouse that stood guard and prevailed against the region’s punishing storms. On countless boyhood mornings, Asa had wandered down the worn path to the lighthouse’s clearing on the precipice, slipped inside its heavy wooden door, climbed its narrow spiral stairs, studied its great rotating lens, and stood on a box to look out its tiny window to the sea. On just as many evenings, he had lain in bed and watched its light pass across the walls of the room he shared with his brother, dreaming of the day when he would live on the outer reaches of some jagged and treacherous coastline and be the trusted keeper of the light.

Now, Asa looked at the open window of the lantern room and thought of Noelle. She had stopped by that morning to drop off the old metal tub Nate had borrowed the previous summer. Asa had been the only one at home. He closed his eyes and pictured her standing in the doorway…

“I can’t stay,” she had said.

“I know.”

“It’s so good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too.”

He had walked her to her car, and she had tried to think of something more to say. “I see they painted the lighthouse.”

“Yeah, they’ve been working on that.”

“You know, I’ve never been inside a lighthouse.”

Asa had looked up at her in disbelief. “How can that be? Didn’t you grow up in Maine?”

“Yes, but not coastal Maine.”

He had reached for her hand. “C’mon, you have to see the inside.”

“I can’t…” She had pulled back, and he had let go. Seeing the disappointment in his eyes, she had relented. “Okay… but only for a minute.”

“Only for a minute,” Asa had agreed, smiling.

They had walked down the worn path, and Asa had jiggled the lock and pushed open the heavy door. When they reached the lantern room, Noelle had looked in amazement at the mechanics that created the light.

“It’s a Fresnel lens,” Asa had explained, showing her how the light was reflected. She had listened attentively and watched for a while before walking over to the window to look out at the sea. Asa had looked at the slender curve of her body outlined under her thin sundress and moved behind her. He had reached over her shoulder to push the window open, and the ocean breeze had rushed in and swept back her hair. Asa had slipped his arms around her, breathing in the lovely scent of her body, and Noelle had put her hands on his arms and closed her eyes. She had felt him against her and thought again about how easy it would be…

“Asa…”

“Don’t…”

They had stood silently together. The only movement in the room had been the rotation of the reflecting light and the breeze that whispered in to cool their skin.

Finally, Noelle had broken the silence. “Asa, if you only knew how much I would love to be with you.” She turned to him and searched his eyes. “I’m so sorry… I should never have come.” Asa had looked away, and Noelle had reached up and gently turned his face back to her, searching his eyes. “Asa, I would love to lie beside you… Don’t you see? But then what? What about Nate? I love him too. Asa, please, help me not let this happen…”

Tears burned at Asa’s eyes. “Noelle… don’t you know?” He struggled with the words. “I would do anything you ask-anything at all-even if what you ask is not letting this happen…”

Noelle had leaned up and pressed her lips against his flushed cheek. Asa had closed his eyes and kept his hands stiffly at his sides…

“So, a bonfire with the fellows, is that it?” Samuel asked, interrupting Asa’s thoughts.

Isaac winked at his brother. “That’s the plan, Dad,” he replied.

“Well, you boys know the rules-if you have any alcoholic beverages at your bonfire, stay out of the water,” Samuel warned. “I was a fellow at a bonfire once, you know.” He paused. “Are you going to hang around here for a while? I know everyone is looking forward to seeing you.”

“Of course, Dad,” said Asa. “We wouldn’t miss out on chowder.”

Samuel smiled and drummed his fingers on his glass. He looked his boys over. “Well, I hope you’ll change out of those rag-tag shorts and T-shirts.”

“Yup,” said Isaac. “I might even take a shower.”

“Sure you want to do that?” Asa teased. “It hasn’t been a week yet.”

Isaac gave his younger brother a smirk and walked toward the open door. Sarah Coleman was standing there with a grocery bag in her arms.

“Sam, I have the French bread and the shrimp if you want to come in and make cocktail sauce,” she said. “Asa, maybe you could slice the bread.”

“Yes, my dear,” Samuel replied, easing himself up from the swing and walking over to freshen his drink.

“May I get you a cocktail… or would you like the whole rooster?”

Sarah smiled. “A small glass of white wine would be good.”

Asa watched his parents. He was always amazed by the easy, warm comfort of their relationship. He wondered if he would ever know another so well… and if another could ever possibly know him. He thought of Noelle, and his heart ached for what could never be. He shook his head and went into the kitchen to slice the bread. Behind him, the summer sky was now a cloudless blue.

2

Nate peered in the bedroom doorway. “Almost ready, hon?”

“Almost.” Noelle glanced in the mirror and sighed. Why did God create wrinkles?

Nate stepped into the room, wrapped his arms around her, and looked at her reflection too. She was slender, and her dark brown hair hung just past her shoulders. Her smooth skin was tan against the coral color of her linen sundress. She looked amazing and lovely, and Nate wondered how he hadn’t noticed when he used to see her in her starched white nurse’s uniform.

“How’d I get so lucky?” he pondered out loud.