Picking up the menu, Cara thought it might be time to order. She met David’s eye. He signaled, and immediately the waiter appeared.
Cara looked at the impressive menu, and ordered escargot for the table.
“Snails?” asked Julia, with doubt ringing in her voice.
“You love oysters, don’t you?” asked Cara.
“Yes,” Julia said.
“These are better. Just wait.”
“You’re a coastal girl,” said Toy with a hint of admonishment. “Snails are shellfish. Enough said.”
David was quickly absorbed in conversation with the sommelier about the wine list.
Cara watched her friends study the elaborate menu. “Now, girls,” she said, drawing their attention. “This is my party. I want you to order whatever you like. Don’t look at the cost. This is once in a lifetime.” She looked again at the menu, then ordered chilled foie gras with figs, salad, and the grilled Dover sole. David smiled his approval. One by one the ladies ordered. It was such fun for Cara to hear what items from the fabulous menu tempted her friends. To order without thought about cost was, she knew, a true extravagance, one she was happy to share with them.
It was a dinner of stories and laughter, one she’d never forget. They all ordered desserts and coffee, and then fully sated, the troop enjoyed a summer night’s walk back to the Plaza.
Back in their room, David paid the babysitter while Cara checked on Hope. She was sleeping soundly in the middle of the bed. Cara slipped off her shoes and leaned far over to kiss her cheek. She smelled of fresh soap.
“I couldn’t eat another bite. I’m utterly stuffed and exhausted,” she said, and collapsed onto the ornate king bed.
“Did you have a good time?”
“David, I had the best time. Thank you. It really was such a good idea to come here. You know, I’ve only stayed once before at the Plaza.”
“When was that?” David asked, walking closer to the bed as he unbuttoned his shirt.
Cara stretched out her arms with a lusty yawn, then let them fall to the mattress. “Oh, a long time ago. I was seven years old and it was a rare trip with my parents. My father’s business was booming, so he was in good spirits. My mother was too.” She laughed at a memory. “One night when my parents went out to the theater, Palmer and I ordered room service. We got hot fudge sundaes. They were the biggest and best we’d ever had. I don’t want to think about what it must’ve cost my parents, but they never mentioned it. Not once on that trip did my father lose his temper,” she said thoughtfully. “Not with me, or Palmer. Nor did he berate us. Or worse, Mama. It was a rare oasis of time when everyone seemed simply happy.”
David sat on the mattress beside her, listening.
She turned her head and looked into his dark eyes, so intuitive. She felt she could tell David anything.
“Stepping into this hotel this weekend, after all those years… it’s hard to explain. But I was filled with the same awe and childlike wonder I felt when I was seven. Looking up at that fabulous chandelier and the elegant, irreplaceable, old-world craftsmanship of the great lobby.” Her smile was bittersweet. She reached out and took his hand. “And you. You were such an angel to babysit all morning so we could go to Kleinfeld’s.”
“We had a blast in Eloise’s tearoom,” he replied. “Besides, getting your dress was the point of the whole trip.”
Cara smiled, knowing that even so, not every man would have spent the morning sitting in a pink tearoom with a four-year-old. In the afternoon, they’d walked through Central Park with Hope while the others dashed about the city fulfilling their own bucket lists.
“It went by fast.”
“Tomorrow we’re home in Charleston, mission accomplished.”
Looking around the room, seeing that their clothes had been picked up and hung in the closet, fresh flowers and chocolates delivered with the turndown, Cara reveled in a moment of luxury. Then she reluctantly rose to change into her nightgown while David gently moved Hope to the twin bed in the suite.
At last they lay side by side in the big bed, the sounds of the city serenading them from below. Cara turned her head on the pillow to gaze at the man beside her.
“Happy?” David asked, his voice rumbling in his chest.
“I had a perfect day,” she told him.
“I hoped you would.”
“I can’t stop thinking about that trip here with my family,” she said. “It might have been our only real family vacation. My mother always took us to the beach house in summer. I never thought of that as a vacation, not like a trip to someplace new. My father went to Europe every year on business trips. He took my mother with him at first, but after Palmer was born, her trips ended. I don’t know if she decided she couldn’t leave her child for weeks at a time, or whether he never invited her. A woman’s place, as it were.” She paused and decided not to voice her thought that it was possible, even likely, given the unhappiness of her parents’ marriage, that he’d had an affair in Europe. There had been rumors enough of another woman in Charleston.
“Don’t you think it coldhearted that he never took his children to Europe? Like you did with Heather. I’m both impressed and envious of all the countries you showed her. What an experience for a child.”
“She was a very shy child, if you recall. We were just becoming aware of her anxiety disorder.”
“Even still, high points for you and Leslie.”
“I’d like to do the same with Hope.”
She understood that he was reopening the discussion of them living in London part of the year. But she didn’t want to go down that path in their discussion. Not tonight. She had something else in her heart to share.
“I don’t believe the family trip has to be grand, like going to Europe or Asia. Any trip with one’s parents that involves going somewhere different, having to solve problems together as a family, make choices, have fun, talk, laugh, creates memories. A different city. A hotel in one’s own city. It doesn’t matter.” She sighed. “You know, my whole life I’ve wanted to take a trip on a houseboat.”
“Really?” he said, amused.
She knew by his expression that he was tucking away that bit of information for the future. “Especially on the Mississippi,” she continued. “Like Mark Twain. Anyway, the most memorable trip I ever had with my family was here to New York City. I’m sure it was because my parents were happy. That means so much to a child. A meal with McDonald’s hamburgers can be as memorable as the four-course meal we had tonight if the mood is joyful.” She patted his hand. “I’m speaking metaphorically, of course.”
He laughed. “I’m glad you don’t equate tonight’s dinner with fast food.”
“You do get what I’m saying, though, don’t you? I want those experiences with Hope. You and I together, with her. The three of us.”
“And we will.” David turned on his side and she felt his dark eyes studying her. “What are you trying to say?”
Cara turned toward him and propped her head on her pillow. The light was dim and sounds from the street echoed in the room.
“I’m thinking of my father.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about him. Only in passing, and not very kindly.”
“I know,” she said softly. “He wasn’t a kind man. But I have happy memories of being with him here. More than anywhere else. Here, he was the father I wanted him to be.” She felt her throat thicken and she swallowed hard.
She was grateful David didn’t press. He remained silent. Giving her time.
“I’ll never forget that time. It was the way I’d always wanted us to be—my mother, my father, Palmer, and me.” She fell silent, then said, “I was wondering…”
“Yes?”
“Do you think, I mean, I know it’s a lot of trouble, but would it be possible…” She took a breath. “For us to stay another day? Just you and me and Hope.”
“Yes. Of course. I’ll call the front desk. What do you want to do?”
&nbs
p; “I’d like the three of us to go to Coney Island.”
“Coney Island?”
His expression made her laugh, and she scrambled to sit up. “Yes. It’s where my father took me and Palmer. Mama stayed at the hotel or went shopping, I don’t remember. But he took us on the train out to the park. We had the best day. I remember him laughing.” She paused. “There weren’t many occasions I can recall that. And he didn’t yell at us. Not even once.” She looked earnestly into David’s eyes. “I’d love to go back to Coney Island with Hope and you. Let her experience all that. With you. I want her to have the memories.”
David scratched his jaw. “We can do that. Except, Hope is only four.”
“That’s old enough to create memories. And, I don’t know,” she said softly, “I may need this trip more than she does. Before we get married, I’d like us to do something as a family. Just for us.”
David reached out and gently, without haste, drew Cara down into his arms. “Done,” he said softly against her ear.
“I love you, Mr. Wyatt.”
“I love you too, Ms. Rutledge.”
Outside the terrace window, laughter sounded from the street. Traffic still bustled and horns honked. The breeze lifted the curtain and wafted around their bodies. Another siren screamed in the night.
* * *
THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON, a tired Cara sat on the F train beside David. Hope was fast asleep in her lap. David carried a bag full of souvenirs, a stuffed animal, and bottled water. They jiggled and swerved as the train took the curves and made stops on the trip from Coney Island to Manhattan.
Cara let her lips rest on the soft hairs of Hope’s head and smiled, remembering the highlights of the special day. Coney Island was a bit shabbier than she remembered; then again, most places were when compared to the idealistic dreams of children. Yet the magic remained. The Cyclone, the carousel, the carnival atmosphere brought the memories back.
When Hope was desperate to ride the Cyclone roller coaster, Cara tried not to laugh, remembering how agonized she had been when told she was too young and too small. She’d fumed as she had to stand outside and watch her brother snicker as he boarded the ride. Cara and David had decided not to spend an entire day, hoping to avoid a meltdown from Hope. They’d spent just enough time at Luna Park for her to enjoy a few kid-friendly rides. Predictably, Hope was wild for a boat ride. She’d stared warily at the street performers but was in awe of the enormous pile of pink confection and her first taste of cotton candy. For lunch, they’d skipped the long lines at Nathan’s hot dogs and gone instead to Little Odessa for some Russian food.
The highlight of the day was watching Hope ride the carousel with David. They’d lucked out on the weather, sunny and with the temperature in the low eighties. A breeze blew in from the Atlantic, replete with the scents of cotton candy, hot dogs, and the sea. Hope was clinging to the pole of the carousel horse, kicking her legs and yelling, “Giddyup!” Cara stood outside the carousel and snapped pictures from her phone. Finally she’d lowered it and just stood watching the carousel go round and round, Hope and David going into and out of view.
Remembering it now, Cara knew that the image of David standing beside the carousel horse, his protective grasp on Hope’s waist, the smile on his face, would stay with her forever. Cara had loved him more in that moment than she thought possible.
Memories of the day she’d spent with her father, riding that same carousel, had fluttered through her mind all afternoon. Stratton had smiled at her in that same way, held her hand tightly. She’d felt safe and loved. In a wisdom forged from time and experience, Cara found she could, at last, remember the good times with her father. She couldn’t change the past, but she could look at it with less emotion and more compassion. In doing so, Cara set herself free from the tiresome burden of anger and hate. As her body swayed with the movement of the train, left to right to center, with her cheek resting against the head of her sleeping child, she realized it was so much easier to just let go of the past. To forgive and move on.
She sighed and glanced at David sitting beside her. He met her gaze and held it.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“For what?”
“For the day. For the trip. For everything.”
He reached out and put his hand over hers, cradling Hope. She felt a gentle squeeze and thought that, yes, that was answer enough.
Chapter Nineteen
Hatchlings emerge either en masse or sputter out in small groups. Emerging together increases the chance of survival as many hatchlings can overwhelm would-be predators. A single, vulnerable hatchling would be an easy target.
IT WAS THE summer solstice, a perfect night for a party. Emmi had lit the garden with fairy lights and set tables out under the stars. The weather was cooperating for the wedding shower. Balmy breezes kept the mosquitoes at bay, assisted by citronella candles on spikes encircling the tables.
Cara wore a pale-blue dress that swirled with each movement, low gold sandals, and sizable blue topazes sparkling at her ears. A sprig of jasmine was tucked in her hair, piled high atop her head. Every time she caught a whiff of its delightful fragrance, she thought of her mother. It had been Lovie’s signature scent.
As the maid of honor, Emmi had left no detail unattended. A gorgeous cake in the shape of a turtle dominated the table. She’d made a delicious champagne punch served in her grandmother’s crystal punch bowl. Cara, who usually despised punch, loved it; she could swear it was really a big bowl of French 75 cocktails. Emmi also had a keg of ale on tap for the men. The side table groaned under the weight of food made by the wedding party—Emmi, Julia, Heather, Toy, and Linnea. All the southern favorites were there: deviled eggs, fried chicken, pimento cheese sandwiches, bean salad, potato salad, green salad, a big bowl of pickled shrimp. Homemade corn bread and biscuits sat beside bowls of creamy butter and honey. The garden was redolent with the scent of Carolina pork. There was nothing better than a good southern barbecue.
Cara had requested, firmly, that all gifts be donations to local charities. She was moved by the amount contributed in her and David’s name to the institutions they were involved with. At this point in her life, she didn’t need more towels or lamps. She wanted a future for Hope and Rory and Leslie.
The children were ensconced in the beach house with a babysitter. Cara had wanted to bring Hope to the party, had bought her a pretty blue dress for the occasion. But she’d come down with a summer cold and was out of sorts. Flo was present, but her nurse was not far away. Flo seemed in excellent spirits tonight, however. She was having one of her good days.
The evening proved to be a delight. Cara stood on the porch, leaning against a pillar, and looked out over the garden. She didn’t know what time it was. The moon shone high in the sky; the food was devoured; the laughter pierced the night, loud and hearty. These people were nearest and dearest. She looked around at her friends and family and counted herself very lucky. Her wedding was less than a month away, she realized, and felt a swirl of true bride-like anticipation.
Cara’s phone vibrated in her pocket; it was her sitter. She quickly answered it. “Yes?”
“I sure hate to bother you during your party,” said Kate, “but I think you might want to come take a look at Hope. She’s spiking a fever. I just took it and it was a hundred and one degrees.”
Cara felt her heart beat harder in her chest. “You were right to call. I’ll be right there.” She tucked her phone in her pocket and craned her neck to find David.
“You okay?” asked Flo, coming to her side.
“No, not really. Hope isn’t well. I need to find David.”
“I saw him over by the bar. He’s talking with Ethan and Bo.”
Cara was grateful Flo was lucid tonight. “Thanks,” she said with a gentle squeeze of Flo’s arm, then went to get David.
Flo was right. David, the tallest, was easy to spot amid a group of men rocking on their heels and laughing, each with a cup of beer in his hand, save f
or Palmer, who had a soft drink. David’s green gingham shirt under his blue blazer still looked crisp and fresh. He was clearly enjoying himself in the role of the groom.
Cara stepped close to him and leaned near his ear. “Hope is sick.”
His head swung around, and his eyes bored into hers. “We should go. Emmi can make our apologies.” He set down his drink, took her hand.
They walked with purpose, heads tilted downward so as not to make eye contact and be stopped, through the garden, out the gate, and across the driveway to their kitchen door. The overhead light was on, guiding them up the stairs. David pushed open the door.
“Hello?” Cara called out as she and David walked through the house to Hope’s bedroom. Kate stepped out of the bedroom as they approached, eyes wide with worry. She was in her twenties with waist-length hair. A student at the College of Charleston, she had babysat many times.
“I’m glad you’re here,” said Kate. “I can’t settle her down.”
Cara murmured something and pushed past her to Hope’s bed. Her daughter looked so small in the wrought iron twin bed. It was her “big girl” bed that she’d received on her fourth birthday. The pink peony blanket was kicked off and the pink sheet barely reached her belly. Her pink and white ruffled nightgown appeared damp with sweat. Her face was flushed, and she moaned softly. Then her little body contorted as she coughed, doubling over with the effort.
Cara put her hand to Hope’s head. “She’s hot. How long has she been like this?” Her tone was harsh, critical.
“She was sleeping for most of the time since I arrived,” Kate answered. “Then she cried a little bit, saying she was thirsty. I gave her cool water and that’s when I noticed how hot she was. I took her temperature, under her armpit. If that says a hundred one, I think it might be higher. Her coughing seems to be getting worse too. I’ve been putting cool compresses on her head, but she’s calling for you.”
“You were right to call me. Thank you,” Cara told Kate, not wanting the young woman to think there was any blame on her part. Hope began coughing again. It sounded as if she were coughing up her lungs.
On Ocean Boulevard Page 24