Lowcountry Summer eBoxed Set

by Mary Alice Monroe

  She laughed lightly, feeling a bubbling of interest. When his lips touched her, it was spontaneous combustion all over again. Blake reached over to turn the heat off the grits. Then he reached down to lift her off her feet in his arms.

  “Wait,” Carson called out, waving the spoon, dripping grits on the floor that Hobbs quickly dispensed.

  Blake walked her to the sink, where she dropped the spoon. Laughing, she ducked her head on his shoulder as he carried her to his bedroom. Suddenly all the terribly corny comments about being hungry for something other than grits easily flowed from her tongue.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The following day Carson sat on the dock, her feet dangling in the water, waiting for Nate. The seawater was warming as summer progressed. She knew that by September the ocean would feel like bathwater to her. She’d developed a routine with Delphine. If she whistled and banged on the dock, Delphine would often appear. Carson longed to see her, and knew that Nate would be eager, as well. Yet today she found she could not call her.

  Blake’s words came to mind. Feeding dolphins is not kind. It’s self-indulgent. Selfish. People are thinking of themselves, not the dolphin. Carson kicked the water mulishly. Sure, she’d heard the warnings about not feeding the dolphins. She’d seen the signs. She’d just thought that her bond with Delphine was special. She’d rationalized that it was okay for her, even if it wasn’t okay for everyone else. The trouble was, she still wanted her relationship with Delphine. She didn’t know if she could give it up. She was torn about what to do. As she sat, swinging her legs in the water, one word played over and over again in her mind. Selfish.

  The reverberations of footfalls on the dock drew her attention. She looked up to see Nate negotiating the step down to the lower dock. He was filling out; his life preserver didn’t hang so pitifully from his shoulders. He was also tan and his light brown hair was turning blond from the sun. She smiled, thinking how much her nephew looked like a typical beach boy.

  “Hi, Nate,” she called out. “Ready to swim?”

  Nate looked out over the water. “Where is Delphine?”

  Carson paused, knowing full well that his fixation on the dolphin was not going to be easy to dampen. Still, she’d made up her mind to do the right thing.

  “She’s out there somewhere. Either playing with her friends or hunting fish. Let’s just go in the water and have a good time.”

  “Call her, Aunt Carson.”

  “I already tried,” she lied, not wanting a meltdown. “Come on, let’s jump in the water. She’ll come if she wants to.”

  Nate searched the water again while Carson held her breath. Then he seemed to accept what she’d said at face value and began to climb down the ladder into the water.

  Carson followed him, realizing she might have come upon the solution to her moral dilemma. She wouldn’t feed the dolphin any longer, nor would she call her to the dock. Delphine would come if she wanted to.

  That evening Mamaw was in the kitchen getting a glass of milk when she heard a strange creaking and rustling outside on the porch. She set down the glass and walked to the door. Darn raccoons were back again, she muttered to herself. She flicked on the light and opened the door. She was startled to see Nate. He froze with eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. In his arms he precariously balanced three fishing rods and a bait box.

  “What on earth?” Mamaw asked.

  Nate didn’t say a word. He only lowered his arms and squinted in the bright light.

  “Nate, what are you doing out here?” she asked him, her tone scolding. “Do you know what time it is?”

  “It’s eleven thirty,” Nate replied.

  Mamaw couldn’t quite get accustomed to how literal the boy was. “Yes, and that’s way past your bedtime.”

  “I know.”

  “What are you doing? Are you going fishing?”

  “No. I’m setting out my rods.”

  “At this time of night?”

  “I had to wait until everyone was asleep. It’s a surprise. I want to have fish for Delphine in the morning so she’ll come. I’m going to set my rods the way the old man told me that he did. He set his rods and left them, and when he came back he had a fish.”

  A few days earlier Mamaw’s neighbor Mr. Bellows had been fishing on his dock. Mamaw had gone over to talk to him. They’d known each other for years. When she returned, she told Nate that he could go to the neighbor’s dock and watch him fish. When he’d told her he was afraid, she’d said the best way to learn the ropes of fishing was to watch those more experienced. Then she told him that the old man—Mr. Bellows—had been a good friend of Papa Edward, and that if Papa were here, he would have taught him how to fish, just like he’d taught Carson how to fish.

  “Nate,” Mamaw said gently now, “I understand it’s a surprise. But you know it’s against the rules to go out on the dock alone.”

  “That is my mother’s rule. It’s not Carson’s rule. I’ve decided I don’t want to be with my mother anymore. Or my father. I don’t like it when they fight. I want to stay here with you and Carson. And Delphine. So I have to obey Carson’s rules. And Carson never told me that I can’t go out on the docks alone. So I’m not breaking Carson’s rules.”

  “Well, if that doesn’t take the cake,” Mamaw muttered to herself. To Nate she said, “Dear boy, you present your argument logically. However, your basic premise is wrong. You do not get to decide if you’re going to stay with Carson or your mother. Your mother is your mother. Period. That will never change. Secondly, when it comes to you, your mother’s rules are the rules of this house as well. Thus, there is no going out on the dock alone. Not tonight. Not ever.”

  Nate’s shoulders slumped. “But I must set up my rods. I already made my bait balls. I spent four dollars and twenty-three cents on the ingredients and hooks. That leaves me with only seventy-seven cents of my five dollars. I don’t have any more money for another batch.”

  In for a penny, in for a pound, Mamaw thought to herself, and closed the door behind her. Besides, what was the harm? He was filled with all the crazy dreams and schemes of a boy.

  “All right, Nate. If I go with you, then you won’t be breaking the rules. Hand me a few of the rods.”

  The night was cooler than expected. The stars and the moon were blocked by cloud cover, so it was especially dark. Nate carried a flashlight, which lit their way along the stone path. Mamaw had never liked traipsing in the wild at night. She couldn’t see the snakes and spiders and other creepy crawlies she knew were in that grass. When her feet stepped onto the wood of the dock, she felt much better. She followed Nate just a short way down the dock; then he stopped and put down his gear.

  Mamaw held the flashlight for Nate as he pulled a plastic garbage bag out from his tackle box.

  “These are called mud balls,” Nate told her, lifting the mushy balls from the bag. Mamaw had to lift her nose higher, they smelled so bad. “The old man next door taught me how to make them. He told me to use cat food and bread mixed with mud. He said this’ll sure bring them around and to make sure I used the damn cat food.”

  Mamaw chuckled to herself. That did indeed sound like Hank. “His name is Mr. Bellows.”

  “Mr. Bellows,” Nate repeated as he worked.

  “You’re very good at that,” Mamaw told him. “Did you ever do it before?”

  “No. Just with the old man, Mr. Bellows. My father has some good poles and rigging in the shed at home, but he only took me fishing one time. That was two years ago when I was seven. He got mad when I made mistakes. He doesn’t know how to make mud balls. He didn’t catch any fish, either. Mr. Bellows catches many fish. He’s a much better fisherman than my father.”

  Mamaw sighed, feeling for the boy. She didn’t interfere as Nate carefully attached a leader to the bottom of the line. When he pulled out the hook that looked like a fish with bulging red eyes and several claw hooks, he looked up at Mamaw and smiled. She had purchased that one for him, not having a clue what kind of a
fish it caught, just because she thought it was so comical. She stepped in to help him bait the hooks.

  Nate cast the lures out and spent a good deal of time spacing the rods evenly along the deck railing, making sure that they were each approximately two feet apart.

  “The old man, Mr. Bellows, said a tangled line is the kiss of death,” Nate told Mamaw. “I know it isn’t really a kiss. It means that it’s a bad thing for the line to get tangled.”

  “I see.” Mamaw found it fascinating how Nate took the details of his task so seriously. She watched as he carefully tied each of the poles by the handle to the railing of the dock with a piece of nylon rope. He tied double knots, saying he wanted them to hold the fish until he got back in the morning.

  “Looks good and tidy,” Mamaw told him. “I think it’s time we went back to our beds.”

  As they walked up the dock, every few feet Nate looked back to make sure the poles were where he’d left them.

  “I’m sure we’ll catch something,” Nate told her as they entered the house and closed the door behind them.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Carson woke from a strange dream about her mother with her heart pounding, tears running down her face, and a profound sense of longing. She blinked heavily in the dim light of predawn. In the dream it was foggy and she was swimming through choppy water. Her mother was calling to her but she couldn’t reach her. She hardly ever dreamed of her mother, but this time . . . even awake, it still felt so real.

  A strange ear-piercing noise echoed from outside. Was it a bird? Or someone crying? Waking farther, she lifted her head, alert, and sharpened her listening. That was no bird. That was a dolphin’s scream!

  Carson whipped back her blanket, thrust her feet into her flip-flops, and tore through the house, out the door. Outside, the dolphin’s screams pierced the air, frantic and fearful. Nothing like she’d ever heard before. As she ran she cried out, “Delphine!”

  The sky was overcast and the water was rough with the current and wind. Her heart was pumping hard in her chest as she raced to the end of the dock. She searched but didn’t see the dolphin. Then she froze and listened hard. The screaming was not at the end of the dock at all. It was behind her, nearer the shore. She gripped the railing and looked over the side.

  “No!” Her heart rose to her throat at the sight.

  Delphine was in shallow water, close to the dock, struggling like she was caught in something. The dolphin saw Carson on the dock and began flapping her tail and screaming louder in a panic. Squinting, Carson could see that the dolphin was ensnared in loops of fishing line, barely able to move. There was so much of it! Like a spider’s web, and Delphine was caught in its center. Two fishing rods were floating in the water beside her. Stepping back, she saw a third was wedged in the railing of the pier.

  “Delphine!” she screamed as a thousand thoughts ran through her mind. She brought her hands to her cheeks. Calm down. Focus, she told herself. What should she do first?

  Carson raced back into the house to the kitchen phone. On the bulletin board, Mamaw had a list of emergency numbers. Then she remembered. Blake. Where was her phone?

  “Mamaw!” she cried as she raced down the hall to her room to grab her purse. “Dora! Harper! Someone help!”

  She found her phone and her hand shook as she punched in Blake’s number. She heard the phone ring, her heart pounding, and prayed he’d answer. The line picked up.

  “Blake?”

  “Carson?”

  “Come quick. Delphine is caught in the fishing wire. You’ve got to help her!”

  “Delphine?”

  “The dolphin!”

  “Let me get this straight.” His voice was more alert now, focused. “You have a dolphin entangled with fishing line at your dock?”

  “Yes. Hurry.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Bad. It’s cutting into her flesh.”

  “Right. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Carson, listen to me. No heroics. Stay away from it.” He hung up.

  Carson could hear Delphine’s screaming. “Forget that,” she muttered, and pulled out the desk drawer as Harper ran into the kitchen.

  “What’s going on? God, what’s that god-awful noise?”

  “It’s Delphine,” Carson said, grabbing a pair of scissors. She raced back to the water with Harper at her heels. There were sharp pebbles on the shore but she plowed through the cold sand and chilly water without pause.

  Harper stopped at the water’s edge. “Carson, don’t go near her.”

  Carson ignored her. She was fueled with adrenaline. Delphine, seeing Carson approach, began to squirm.

  “I’m here. Shhhh . . . settle down,” Carson called out, slowing down as she drew near Delphine. The dolphin’s watery eyes looked into hers. Carson wanted to cry when she saw the devastating damage. The fine line entangled Delphine from pectoral to dorsal fin to fluke. Every time the dolphin had to come up for air, she’d strained against the line, forcing the wire to slice deeper into her flesh like a razor. Carson reached out to lift Delphine’s head and hold her blowhole above the water. All around Delphine’s once-pristine, gleaming body she saw lacerations crisscrossing the flesh, so deep the lines were invisible.

  Worst of all, though, was her mouth. The crazy-looking hook that Mamaw had given Nate as a joke, the one that looked like a small fish with a freakish eye and two multipronged claw hooks, was deeply embedded in Delphine’s mouth. Carson wanted to scream in fury at seeing the tender flesh ripped to shreds. Blood dripped into the water and Carson knew she had to worry about sharks, as well. She studied the wire and began to cut as many of the lines as she could, but some of them were so knotted and close to the wounds, she thought she’d better leave them for Blake.

  “I’m here,” she told Delphine, close to her face. It felt to Carson that the wires were slicing her own heart as well. “Don’t worry. I’m here for you. No matter what, I won’t leave you.”

  “Carson!” Harper called with uncertainty from the shore.

  “Go keep an eye out for Blake,” Carson called back.

  Harper turned on her heel and hurried back toward the house.

  Delphine began to calm when the clouds opened up and dumped a pounding deluge of rain. Carson bent over Delphine to shield her blowhole. The pelting rain stung her back like tiny balls of ice. Carson coughed and spat out salt water as the wind swept waves into her face. She wouldn’t leave Delphine. She had to keep the blowhole above the water.

  Mercifully, the cloud was typically fast-moving, on its way from the mainland to the ocean. The driving rain slowed, then dwindled to a faint drizzle. Her thick hair streamed down her face, the salt water stinging her eyes, and her T-shirt clung to her like a second skin, but she didn’t let go. Looking up, she sighed with relief to see the soft light of dawn rising in a pale pink and blue clear sky. She held on to Delphine and prayed it was an omen.

  The government-issued jeep skidded to a stop alongside Sea Breeze. Carson looked up from the water and in the distance she saw a door slam and a man leap from the car. Harper was pointing toward the dock. Blake swung a backpack over his shoulder as he trotted down the sandy incline toward the dock.

  Mamaw, dressed in a flowing robe, also came running from the house, followed by Dora, still in pajamas. They stepped out of the way as Blake ran past them to the dock. Carson heard the dock reverberating with the weight of the footfalls, echoing below where she stood. Startled, Delphine struggled anew to free herself, causing the monofilament to cut deeper into her skin.

  “Down here! Hurry!” Carson called out. At her shouting Delphine squirmed again. “Shhh . . . stop, Delphine,” Carson cried, desperately holding the dolphin’s massive head out of the water. Her arms felt numb and screamed with pain. But it was nothing compared to the pain she knew Delphine felt. “Please, stop moving. It’s okay. Someone’s here to help. Hang on a little longer.” Her back ached from bending over in the awkward position and her arms were clamped like vises around the
rubbery dolphin.

  She almost wept with relief when she saw Blake rushing around the dock. He was in his blue NOAA T-shirt. Blake tossed his backpack on the ground and plowed into the water. As he drew near, his dark eyes flashed in fury at seeing her in the water, then swiftly shifted to the dolphin. He cursed when he saw the monofilament line cutting into the dolphin’s flesh.

  “What happened?” His voice was rough with worry.

  “I heard the dolphin screaming when I woke up,” Carson told him, speaking rapidly. “I came running. I found her all tangled up in the fishing line. That’s when I called you. I cut away as much as I could.”

  “What idiot left this line out?” he shouted. “I’ve never seen such a bad case. And this goddamn hook!” He almost sputtered in fury when he bent to investigate the large, multipronged hook deeply embedded in Delphine’s mouth.

  He didn’t wait for an answer. He left Carson’s side and pushed through the water to retrieve his pack and dig out his cell phone. His whole body radiated wrath as he stared at the dolphin and talked rapidly on the phone.

  “Legare here. I got a dolphin seriously tangled in fishing line. It’s bad. Very bad. Large hook embedded in the mouth. Dolphin’s movements are severely restricted. Deep cuts. I need a vet ASAP. And wet transport. Meanwhile, check availability for rehab. Location is Sullivan’s Island. Sea Breeze . . . Yeah, that’s the one. How long? . . . He is? Good. This is a priority situation. Thanks.” He put the phone in his bag and came directly back to the dolphin’s side.

  “I’ve got this,” he said as his long arms reached under the dolphin in support. “Go on. Carson, take a break. You’re shivering.”

  “I’m not leaving her,” Carson said.

  Blake returned a firm stare. Gone was the easygoing, smitten man she’d spent the night with. There was no room for flirtation in this man’s demeanor. He was in charge and clearly not happy to see her in the water.