Lowcountry Summer eBoxed Set

by Mary Alice Monroe

  Mamaw’s smile slipped. “Not very well. And Nate?”

  “The same. That’s what I’ve come to talk with you about. Mamaw, I’m worried that he’s regressing. He won’t come out of his room and he just sits on his bed, reading books about dolphins. He doesn’t talk, except to ask about Delphine. Have we heard anything?”

  “No,” Mamaw said. “We haven’t heard a word. Blake promised to call. I expect they don’t know yet.”

  Dora considered this. “That can’t be good. Mamaw, what if they can’t save her?”

  “I don’t think we’ve reached that point yet.”

  “I have to prepare for the possibility. I’ve been thinking . . . Perhaps it’s best to get Nate home, away from here, where all he thinks about is that dolphin. If the dolphin should die, I don’t want him here.”

  “Will it make any difference?”

  “There’s everything here to remind him of her.”

  “I really think he should stay here, at least until he learns what happened to Delphine. You know he’ll wonder and worry if you don’t. He’s not one to simply forget about it.”

  “No, I suppose you’re right.” Dora wrung her hands in indecision. She felt lost, unable to navigate through these choppy waters.

  Mamaw paused, dreading going into the discussion, but she had to know. “Do you think Nate realizes what he did? That’s a large burden for such small shoulders.”

  Dora felt herself go under the wave of worry. She sighed heavily and sank back against the sofa cushions, shaking her face in her hands. “I don’t know! I just don’t know if he understands guilt. He can’t communicate that with me.” She took a calming breath, realizing that Mamaw couldn’t understand fully what she was going through with Nate.

  “He understands that Delphine is hurt,” Dora tried to explain, “and that she went to the hospital in Florida. He feels very badly about that.” Her eyes began to tear. “He has such a hard time regulating his emotions normally, and now . . .” She threw up her hands. “It’s all such a hot mess.”

  Mamaw reached out to pat her hand. “It’s always hard to see your child in distress.”

  “I know, Mamaw. But it’s so much more intense with a child with autism.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. Nonetheless, Nate has to learn to face the consequences of his actions. You will not be able to protect him from all of life’s difficult moments, you know. No parent can. All we can do is to let him go through them and learn from them. To give him the tools he needs.

  “Dora, I don’t think you should leave. Really I don’t. For Nate’s sake. He’s developed a good routine here. And you can’t go back to your house. Didn’t you say that the workmen are there, fixing it up for sale? How will you manage with the fumes of paint and varnish? Surely that can’t be good for you or your son. Just think of the upsets! Granted, we’ve had a bump in our routine, but now we all have to pull together and start anew.”

  “I suppose,” Dora replied, lackluster. She hadn’t thought this through, and as usual, Mamaw had.

  “Will he see Carson?” Mamaw asked.

  Dora shook her head. “No. He doesn’t want to see her.”

  Mamaw tsk ed and shook her head. “That’s too bad. They’d been doing so well together. Making such progress. What a muddle this has all become.” She looked at Dora. “Well, dear, you go on and take a peek in her room and see if she’s sleeping. I know she’d feel bad not to see you.”

  Dora hesitated. She didn’t really want to see her sister. “I wouldn’t want to wake her.”

  Mamaw shrugged. “You should. Her fever’s gone. It’s what’s ailing her inside that I’m more worried about. She just sleeps and sleeps. When she’s awake she just stares at the wall. She won’t even open the blinds.”

  “I feel so bad that I stirred up bad memories,” Dora said. “It was thoughtless of me. I was caught in the emotion of the moment. Sometimes I speak first and think later.”

  “Yes . . .” Mamaw pinched her lips.

  “I’m going to try and change that.”

  “That’s good, dear,” Mamaw said, then sighed. “I suppose it’s just as well the truth surfaced at last. Though that particular hurt runs very deep. Carson just needs to come to terms with what happened in her own time. And she will.” She patted Dora’s hand, more briskly this time. “Now go on and see your sister. I think she needs you now more than ever.”

  Dora knocked on the bedroom door. “Carson? Are you awake?”

  “Come in,” Carson called back without enthusiasm.

  She thought Carson’s voice sounded weak and on opening the door, Dora saw her lying on her back on the bed in the dim room. Her eyes were closed, the blinds were drawn—the atmosphere was as gloomy as a hospital room.

  “Hi, honey,” Dora said, stepping in. “How’re you doing?”

  “Okay.” Carson’s voice was flat, lifeless.

  Dora came to stand by the bed and stared down at her sister. “Honey, you look like I feel.”

  Carson opened her eyes and smirked. “Good one.”

  Dora sat on the side of the bed, took Carson’s hand and squeezed it. “I hate to see you like this. Don’t be sad, sweetie. It’ll be all right.”

  “I know . . .” Carson replied weakly, without conviction.

  Dora felt the weight of remorse pressing down on her heart. She hadn’t come here to make a scene, but seeing her sister like this was more than she could bear.

  “I’m so sorry,” Dora cried, bursting into tears. “I’m so sorry I said those horrible things to you. Oh, Carson, I never thought you might . . .” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Nothing’s worth taking your life, Carson. You have your whole life in front of you.”

  Carson lifted her head and looked at her like she’d gone crazy. “Wait, wait just a minute. Do you think . . . do you honestly think I was trying to kill myself out there?”

  Dora wiped her eyes and stared back at her. “Weren’t you?”

  “No!” Carson exclaimed, pulling her hand from Dora’s grip. “Good God, no. Why would you think that?”

  “I—I don’t know,” Dora stammered. “I guess because, well, you were so sad about that dolphin and I told you about your mother. I just . . .”

  “You thought if my mother committed suicide, then I would, too?”

  “No, not when you say it like that.” She’d done it again. Put her foot in her mouth. “I don’t know what I thought.”

  “Jeez, Dora . . .” Carson looked away.

  “I just saw you disappear into the water and my instinct kicked in.”

  Carson erupted in a short laugh that surprised Dora. When she turned to face Dora again, she didn’t appear angry or upset. In fact, she looked vaguely amused. “Oh, Dora,” Carson said. “I guess I should just thank the Lord for your instinct.”

  Dora heaved a sigh.

  Carson’s eyes grew haunted. “I was in trouble out there. I knew better than to go in alone but I was fool drunk and did it anyway. I got caught in the current. It’s a miracle I didn’t drown. But no, Dora. I was not trying to kill myself.” She ran her hand through her hair. “And let me make this clear. My mother did not commit suicide, okay? She was drunk and smoking and passed out. Okay?”

  Dora’s eyes were wide with attention. She nodded her head.

  “Shit,” Carson said morosely. “But I guess you were right about me after all. I fell off the wagon. I am a drunk. Just like my mother.”

  Dora felt the shame of her callous words burn again. “Don’t pay any mind to what I said. I didn’t know your mother. She was my nanny but I was so young, I don’t remember a thing except that she was pretty. So don’t listen to what I said. I was being mean and hateful because I was so angry at you for hurting Nate. I wanted to hurt you back. That’s no excuse, I know.” She looked away. “And who am I to talk about mothers, right? I know you think I’m a terrible mother. Overprotective, smothering.”

  “I never said you were a terrible mother,” Carson said. “You’re an
excellent mother. The best. Just a bit . . . overprotective.”

  Dora released a short, desperate laugh. “Cal tells me the same thing. He said that’s why he left me. Or one of the reasons, anyway. He said I gave so much to Nate I left nothing for him. And that even Nate didn’t like him. At first I denied it. But lately, I’ve had some time to think about it and I realized he was right. Not that he’s been a prince.” Dora’s lips trembled and she reached into her pocket to pull out a tissue.

  “But suddenly, I’m losing everything. My husband, my house, my life.” She looked at her belly. “Hell, even my figure. Everything I cared about is just slipping through my fingers. I’m scared. You know, sometimes, when I’m all alone, I put my face in the pillow and just scream until I’ve got nothing left in me.” She sniffed. “What do you think that means? Am I losing my mind, too?”

  “No,” Carson said, rising to sit. “Who cares about that damn house? It’s been an albatross around your neck for years. Frankly, so was Cal. I never thought he was worthy of you.”

  Dora laughed lightly with disbelief. “Now you’re starting to sound like Mamaw.”

  Carson’s brows rose. “Then you know it’s true. Mamaw’s never wrong.”

  Dora shared a laugh with Carson and felt the tension ease between them.

  Carson said, “I’m serious. Good riddance.”

  “Then why do I feel so sad?” Dora asked tearfully, plucking the tissue.

  “You and me,” Carson said earnestly, “we’re both in a bad place right now. Harper, too. But we’ll get through this. I promise you. Dora, you threw me a life preserver and pulled me in when I needed you. Let me do the same for you.” She reached out to grab her sister’s arm and give her a loving shake. “I’m here for you, okay? You’re not alone, either.”

  The long-awaited phone call came at four o’clock the next day. Carson had risen from bed and showered, and was standing at the porch door, looking out, when Lucille knocked on her door.

  “You got a phone call. It’s from that dolphin fella,” Lucille said. She watched as Carson darted past to the phone, then, with a small smile, closed the door behind her.

  “This is Carson.”

  “Carson, it’s Blake. I’m calling from Mote Marine Laboratory hospital in Sarasota.”

  She clutched the phone tighter. “How’s Delphine?”

  “Better. It was touch-and-go there for a while, but she’s young and strong and held her own. The monofilament fishing line was embedded deeply and required surgery for removal. She’s been started on antibiotics and fluids. At first she showed no interest in food but she could swim on her own, which was a good sign. They performed a second surgery to remove all of the monofilament encircling the base of the tail, which was already mangled from the shark bite. But today she turned a corner. Her blood work this morning looked significantly improved and she started eating. Even her swimming looks better. She’s not out of the woods yet, but we’re hopeful.”

  Carson began to cry. She hadn’t expected such a visceral reaction. Clutching the phone, she slid down along the wall onto the floor, great heaving sobs pouring out that embarrassed her on the phone with Blake, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  “It’s okay, Carson,” Blake told her, his voice reassuring. “Delphine’s one feisty dolphin.”

  “I’m so happy,” she choked out. “You . . . you don’t know what it’s been like.”

  “I have a pretty good idea.”

  “Thank you, Blake. Thank you so much.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank this incredible team here at Mote. They deserve the credit.”

  “I will. I’ll write to them today.”

  “It’d be nice if you sent a donation. The cost of caring for Delphine will be very high.”

  “Of course,” she agreed. “I’m so grateful.”

  “Well, I’d better go. I’ve got a plane to catch. I just wanted you to know.”

  “You’re coming home?”

  “I’m done here.”

  “When will Delphine be coming back?”

  “I can’t say. We’ll just have to see how she does. It’s out of my hands now.”

  “Blake . . .” She hesitated. “Will you call me when you come back?” she asked. “I’d like to see you.”

  He paused.

  “Please,” she added.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, though she heard no pleasure in it. “I’ll give you a call when I get settled. I’ve got a lot of work piled on my desk. But I’ll call.”

  She heard the click of the phone and hung up. She was worried about Blake’s tone. He’d sounded so distant. She’d rather he’d sounded angry.

  But Delphine was going to be all right. Then, for the first time in days, Carson smiled.

  Carson knocked on Nate’s door. There was no answer.

  “Nate?” she called out.

  There was no response.

  Carson turned the handle and gently pushed open the door. She didn’t want to startle the boy, nor was she sure how he’d react when he saw her. He might begin screaming again.

  His room was dimly lit. Dora had told her that he kept closing the shutters, preferring to watch television or play his games in the dark. She found him as Dora had predicted, sitting in front of the screen, playing a video game.

  “Nate?”

  Nate swung around, startled. She saw the wariness in his eyes again, the same distrust that she’d seen the first time she met him. It pained her to see it.

  “Can I come in?”

  “No.” He turned back to his game.

  Carson hesitated at the door. “I have some good news.”

  “Go away.”

  “It’s about Delphine.”

  Nate’s fingers stopped manipulating his game. “What?”

  Carson took a few steps toward him. “I got a phone call from Blake. He’s the man who came when Delphine got sick and took her to the hospital in Florida.”

  No response.

  “He said she’s feeling much better. Delphine is going to be all right.”

  Nate remained expressionless, but his hand lowered as he set the game controller down on the floor. “What about her cuts?”

  “Well,” Carson said, “the doctors had to give her medicine and it’s going to take time for her to heal, but they think she will. It’s just going to take some time.”

  Nate said nothing.

  “I wanted to tell you that. And that I’m very sorry I got angry and grabbed you. That was wrong of me. Sometimes, people get angry and do things they shouldn’t. Things they regret. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

  Nate said nothing.

  “Okay then.” Carson ventured a smile, then turned to leave. As Carson walked across the room, she hoped Nate would call her back, that he’d say he was happy that Delphine’s wounds were healing. But he did not. The boy only raised his controller and returned to his game. As Carson closed the door behind her, she realized that Delphine’s wounds weren’t the only ones that needed to heal.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A week later Carson hurried to the Medley coffee shop on Sullivan’s Island. She’d waited by the phone and Blake had finally called her after he’d returned from Florida. There was a definite shift in his attitude toward her since the accident with Delphine. On the phone he’d sounded formal, even impatient, when she had asked him to meet her.

  She stepped inside the coffee shop to see Blake already standing at the counter. He was dressed in the usual khaki shorts, brown T-shirt, and sandals. He looked more scruffy than usual. His dark hair was longer and he’d started one of those trimmed beard/moustache looks that she found very cool for the non-fashion-forward man. Knowing Blake, he was probably just tired of shaving. Seeing him again, it was disturbing to feel the punch of attraction and to realize she liked him more than she wished she did. He was staring up at the large chalkboard on the wall with the day’s offerings written in white chalk.

  “Hey,” she said, drawing near.

  Blake looked over
his shoulder at her greeting. His immediate reaction was to smile, his dark eyes lighting up. Then it appeared as if he’d suddenly remembered he should be angry and his smile fell.

  “Hello,” he said in a cool voice. “Nice to see you again.”

  So they were back to being strangers, she thought with a twinge of regret.

  “Thanks for meeting me.”

  “No problem,” he said in an offhand manner. “It’s part of my job.”

  She sucked in her breath. “Do you have to be so nasty?”

  “I didn’t think I was being nasty.”

  “Never mind,” she said in a huff, turning to go. “I can see this wasn’t a good idea.”

  “Wait,” he said quickly.

  She turned back, glaring at him with a hurt expression.

  “Okay, I’m still angry.”

  “And I’m still devastated,” Carson replied, her voice shaky.

  Blake’s brow furrowed in reflection. He asked in a conciliatory tone, “Want a coffee?”

  Carson regrouped and glanced briefly at the menu written in chalk on the immense blackboard. “Latte, please.”

  Blake turned to give the order. Carson pressed her hand against her stomach while she steadied her breath, regaining composure.

  Cups in hand, they glanced around the small room. There weren’t many people in the coffee shop at this midmorning hour on a beautiful beach day. They claimed a small café table by the window.

  “Blake,” she began. She dreaded going into this discussion, but knew it couldn’t be avoided. Better to dive right in than to endure painful chitchat. “I asked to talk to you today, because I wanted—needed—to tell you personally how badly I feel about what happened to Delphine.”

  She glanced up at him and saw him sitting with his hands around his mug, looking at it.

  “I couldn’t breathe until you’d called and told me that Delphine was going to be all right. If she’d died, I don’t know what I’d have done. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance,” she continued. “Yes, it was Nate’s fault to leave the fishing lines out. But the bigger fault was mine for luring Delphine to the dock in the first place. I know that now. I wanted her there for my pleasure. And for whatever reason—believe it or not—she wanted to be there, too. Still, that’s no excuse. I know now that she came where she wasn’t supposed to be.”