On a return to a hometown, a reunion with a first love

 

On the run from the law and deep into his journey into the past, Mark Gray, the protagonist of "Blue Hill," returns to his home town, where he meets Sally Martin, his high-school girlfriend and first love. A long-buried secret will soon be revealed.

To learn more about the book, which published on October 6 - and to order in audio, Kindle or paper formats - visit http://www.gwaynemiller.com/books.htm

We both cracked up at that, and the laughter opened something, because our conversation was suddenly animated. I heard details of Sally’s divorce from a small-town cop who was a decent enough dad but couldn’t keep his hands off other women. I talked about Ruth and Timmy, albeit without details of his paternity, and I took a gratifying shot at old Syd. Sally told of bumping into my dad now and again; of her job in a nursing home, low-paying but rewarding helping others like that, she said; of our first-grade teacher, Miss Biddle, who’d died last winter; of Jane Rogers, who’d married at 19 and was now, could you believe it, a grandmother.

I told Sally of how I’d always hoped to move back here, or at least have a summer place. It was not the complete truth, but somehow it was the right thing to say.

“You’re wearing Old Spice,” Sally said when we reached a lull.

It was almost dark now.

“Is it too strong?”

“No. I’m just surprised you remembered.”

“I remember a lot.”

“So do I.”

I looked seaward, at waves that had turned Blue Hill Bay angry. Further out, the unprotected ocean would be treacherous. On nights like this, my father always offered a prayer for mariners; when she was alive, Mom always joined in. Her grandfather, the guy who’d bought Blue Hill’s blueberry fields from a Native American for a dollar, had been lost at sea on a night like this. His body had never been recovered, which meant no funeral or grave to ever visit.

“Can I ask you something?” Sally said.

“Anything you want.”

“Why’d you call?”

I’d been expecting that question. I still didn’t have the answer.

“I found the ring,” I explained, “going through your letters.”

I dug into my pocket and offered it to Sally, but she wouldn’t take it.

Suddenly, the circumstances of our last encounter were with us—heavy and low, and nasty, like the clouds.

You stupid fuck, I thought. What possessed you to do that?

“I want you to have it,” I said, struggling.

“Why?”

“Because it’s yours.”

“Was mine.”

“Please?”

Sally took the ring, but she wouldn’t wear it. Rather, she slipped it into her pocket.

“Things didn’t turn out like we planned, did they?” I said, and that sentence sounds monumentally stupid now, but then—then, it seemed profound.

“They never do,” Sally said. “The older you get, you learn that. And when you do, you reach a place of peace.”

A place of peace.

How I envied her, this girl who’d become this woman.

We left the beach and climbed quite some distance, to the top of a granite ledge bordered by pines. The wind was stronger here and I wished I had gloves and hat, as Sally did.

“Do you remember this ledge?” I said.

“Of course.”

“We used to fish off here when the tide was high. What were we in—fourth grade?”

“Something like that.”

“Mom was always afraid we’d fall.”

“Mothers are like that. I remember the time you told me about sharks that could crawl out of the ocean. I really believed you, for a while.”

“I think that was the beginning of my infantile practical jokes.”

“I wouldn’t call them infantile,” Sally said. “Sophomoric, maybe.”

We laughed.

“I have other memories of here,” I said.

“One stronger than the rest,” Sally said.

“Graduation night.”

“It seems like a million years ago.”

“Maybe it was,” I said. “Maybe everything went into a time warp and here we are, back again.”

I know—that sounds stupider than my last stupid comment. But if Sally took it that way, she didn’t let on.

Moving closer to her, I smelled Shalimar perfume, always her favorite; in one of those inexplicably weird coincidences, it was Ruth’s, too. I thought I also smelled whiskey, but I couldn’t be sure.

I wanted to kiss Sally and feel the swell of her breasts. I wanted it to be summer, and sunrise, over a flat blue sea.

“We better go,” Sally said, “before it’s completely dark.”

She squeezed my hand, fleetingly.

“You’re right,” I said.

“We wouldn’t want to get stranded here. Not with a storm coming on.”

“No,” I said, “not with a storm coming on.”

We walked in silence until we got to our cars.

“Well,” I said, “I guess this is it.”

“Where do you go now?” Sally asked.

“Maybe my father’s,” I said. “Maybe the Blue Hill Inn. I’m not sure I’m quite ready for Dad yet.”

“But you will see him before he goes.”

That seemed important to her.

“Of course,” I said.

“Since you don’t have plans,” Sally said, “would you like to have dinner?”

“I’d love to,” I said, too eagerly.

“I’ll even cook,” Sally said.

It had been an old joke, how she had trouble boiling water.

“You don’t have to go to that bother,” I said.

“I want to. Just don’t expect any of that gourmet stuff you get at home.”

“Are you kidding?” I said. “We live on macaroni and cheese. It’s Timmy’s favorite.

“Then maybe I have a chance.”

“What about your kids?”

“They’re with their father,” Sally said, “until tomorrow night.”

“You’re sure it wouldn’t be a bother?” I said.

“Do you think I would have asked if it was? Take your car. You can follow me.”

 More "Blue Hill: posts:

-- Reviews for “Blue Hill” are coming in and they are favorable!The reviews for my latest book, "Blue Hill," a novel that is a profound departure from my other (mostly horror, mystery and sci-fi) fiction are looking good! I will post more as they arrived.
READ REVIEWS:
https://gwaynemiller.blogspot.com/2020/10/reviews-for-blue-hill-are-coming-in-and.html

-- Fenway Park on August 18, 1967: Tony Conigliaro struck by pitch.
Mark Gray, the protagonist of "Blue Hill," is a young Red Sox fan when slugger Tony Conigliaro is beaned by a pitch during the Sox "Dream Team" of 1967. The pitch changed the real-life Tony C. -- and had a profound impact on the fictional protagonist of my new novel.
READ THIS EXCERPT:
https://gwaynemiller.blogspot.com/2020/10/fenway-park-on-august-18-1967-tony.html

-- The possibility of reconciliation, and an outrageous climb in a Maine Nor'easter.
Mark Gray, the protagonist of "Blue Hill," is the son of a now-retired Episcopal priest and '60s social activist. Their relationship has been difficult since Gray's childhood, but there is always the possibility of reconciliation. Maybe it will occur when Gray, now one of America's Most Wanted criminals, visits his elderly father, who lives in Blue Hill, Gray's hometown, and proposes an outrageous climb of a favorite mountain... in a raging Nor'easter. Read the excerpt here.
READ THIS EXCERPT:
https://gwaynemiller.blogspot.com/2020/10/mark-gray-protagonist-of-blue-hill-is.html

-- Quite a cast of characters.
Along with several fictional characters, starting with the narrator, "Blue Hill" features some real-life people -- Jack Nicholson, for example, albeit in fictionalized form.
READ THIS EXCERPT:
https://gwaynemiller.blogspot.com/2020/10/quite-cast-of-characters-another.html

-- Fenway Park.
Baseball is a central theme of my new novel, "Blue Hill," a departure from my other fiction, which has been solidly in the mystery, horror and sci-fi genres.
READ THE EXCERPT:
https://gwaynemiller.blogspot.com/2020/10/blue-hill-excerpt-from-chapter-four.html

-- Listen to the books!
Listen to a clip from the audio version of “Blue Hill” Blue Hill and also some of my other books, including “Thunder Rise,” King of Hearts,” and “The Work of Human Hands.”
LISTEN:
https://gwaynemiller.blogspot.com/2020/09/listen-to-books.html