Lowcountry Summer eBoxed Set

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “We’re good here,” he told her with confidence. “This is deep water.” He leaned forward, his lips close to her cheek. “Don’t you remember where we are?” he asked, his voice suddenly husky.

  She caught the scent of beer on his breath and enjoyed the feel of his chin grazing her skin. She studied the long stretch of cordgrass and for the life of her couldn’t remember. She shook her head. “No.”

  “Keep going,” he told her encouragingly.

  She drove the boat at a slower pace through the narrow creek before it opened up again to a wide area of water spotted with several small hammocks. The breeze picked up in the open area and brushed away the cobwebs in her memory.

  “I know where we are!” she exclaimed, turning around to face Devlin, laughing. “This is our old hangout.”

  He slipped his arms tighter around her waist and said teasingly, “More than a hangout, if memory serves.”

  She blushed and faced forward again, her eyes lingering on the rounded hammock in the distance, a jungle of tall palm trees, live oaks, Chinese tallow trees, and shrubs. This had been their spot. The isolated place they’d anchor and make out and talk for hours. This secluded haven was where she’d lost her virginity. She smiled, realizing Devlin remembered.

  “You ol’ horn dog,” she said with a playful push.

  “Can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

  He nuzzled her neck and she felt again she was racing along the Intracoastal.

  “We can pull anchor right up yonder,” he said, pointing to a shallow spot near what had been their favorite hammock. “Seems as good a place as any to have some lunch.”

  “Lunch? I didn’t pack lunch, just some things for us to munch on.”

  “You weren’t supposed to. You don’t think I invited a lady out for a trip without seeing to the details, do you?”

  “I don’t remember you ever bringing food to this hammock before.”

  “Yeah, well . . .” Devlin rubbed his jaw in embarrassment. “I’ve grown up a bit since then. Learned some manners at my daddy’s knee.”

  “Your daddy? I’ll wager you learned through trial and error with all the pretty girls you’ve brought to this hammock since me.”

  “None of them were as pretty as you.”

  Dora felt embarrassed by the compliment. Of course she wasn’t the prettiest.

  “Stop it, Devlin. You don’t have to say that.”

  “Say what? It’s the truth. You’re beautiful.”

  “I said stop it,” Dora snapped. “We both know I’m not.” She turned her gaze away. “At least, not anymore.”

  Devlin took the wheel as the mood shifted. Dora went to stand at the opposite side of the boat. Devlin brought the mighty engines to a stop and set anchor. The boat rocked lightly in the current, immersed in a sudden great silence.

  Dora stared at a pair of white ibis standing in the shallow water along the shore, their elegant orange down-curved bills digging in the mud. They appeared so beautiful, so serene.

  Devlin walked to her side and, taking her waist, turned her to face him. He took off his sunglasses. Then he reached out and took off Dora’s. This close, Dora could see the network of fine lines around his stunningly pale blue eyes. She couldn’t look away.

  “Dora Muir Tupper,” Devlin said. “You’re still the prettiest girl I ever saw.”

  When Dora looked into his eyes, she saw a pulsing kindness and sincerity that couldn’t be faked. She felt her own eyes fill with tears and thought to herself, Lord help me, I still have a crush on this man.

  Their gazes locked. Everything that needed to be said was said in that long look, words that the intervening years had made too complicated for translation into syllables. Dora raised her arms around his neck, not worrying this time if her body wasn’t slim and perfect, if he felt more skin than was there before. He’d called her beautiful and she’d seen the truth in his eyes. She would, she decided, believe him.

  When Devlin lowered his head, Dora knew that this time, she wasn’t a fumbling sixteen-year-old. No, not at all. She felt every inch a luxurious woman. As she pressed her curves against him, she thought, We are all Eve’s daughters.

  It was late by the time Devlin drove Dora back to Sea Breeze. He kissed her good-bye once, then again, then once more. They giggled softly, each acknowledging that they didn’t want to stop. When, at last, she extricated herself from his arms, she adjusted her shirt and smoothed her hair, glad for the darkness.

  “See you tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Call me.”

  “Soon as I wake up.”

  She looked at him askance. “Lord, what time is that?”

  “Whenever I open my eyes.”

  Dora chuckled. This was one dog that would not be tied to the post.

  She opened the car door and closed it as softly as she could, not wanting to wake up the household. Mamaw had kept the light burning for her. She was likely asleep, and Harper was likely still tapping away at her keyboard, lost in whatever it was she was madly working on. Feeling safe from discovery, she waved and watched Devlin drive off into the night.

  No sooner did she start walking toward the front door than Lucille’s porch lights went on.

  “Shit,” Dora muttered under her breath.

  The cottage’s front door opened and Lucille came out in her long white nightgown and blue floral-patterned robe. Dora didn’t know if she’d ever seen Lucille in her nightclothes before and she couldn’t quite grasp it in her mind.

  “Sorry if I woke you up,” Dora said in a loud whisper, walking closer to the cottage porch.

  “You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep.”

  Dora reached the foot of the porch. “Are you okay?”

  Lucille waved her hand in dismissal. “Oh, just an old woman’s aches and pains. I ain’t had a good night’s sleep since I turned sixty. Gettin’ old is not for sissies. I reckon I’ll just sit out on the porch awhile, let this fine night cast its spell.”

  “Want some company?”

  “Why, sure. Love it. Want something to drink?”

  “Not a thing,” Dora answered, stepping up the stairs onto the porch. She took the rocking chair beside Lucille, dropping the canvas bag on the floor.

  Lucille’s dark eyes studied her. “You look like you got some sun.”

  “Lots of it. Hope I don’t peel.”

  “Put aloe on your skin tonight and drink lots of water.”

  “I will.”

  They rocked awhile before Lucille said, “That sure was a long boat ride.”

  Dora closed her eyes as images of Devlin flashed across her thoughts. That first kiss on the Boston Whaler had lit a fire in her that she hadn’t felt in a very long time. It felt both as though she and Devlin had picked up right where they left off when they were sixteen, and like they were exploring something fresh and new. They were older, more world-wise, certainly more experienced. Being with Devlin was like scratching an eighteen-year-old itch. She felt again the ripple of pleasure she’d experienced when he’d found the itch and scratched it, but good. Again and again.

  Dora stopped rocking and looked at Lucille. “I discovered something today.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I’m sure as hell Eve’s daughter.”

  A knowing smile spread across Lucille’s face. “Well, good for you! I’m glad to hear it.” She chuckled and commenced rocking. “That boy’s been waiting long enough. I reckon it was worth it?”

  “Oh, yes,” Dora said with a slight laugh. “Definitely.”

  “You gonna see him again?”

  “Definitely,” she repeated. After rocking awhile Dora said, “He wants to see me again tomorrow. And the day after that. I think I should cool it a little, don’t you? I mean, I feel this nervousness, like I’m in high school all over again. That’s not normal, is it? Is it always like this when you have a crush on someone? At my age?”

  “Don’t ask me. I ain’t never felt that.”

  Dora looked at Lucille and it sudd
enly dawned on her how little she knew about Lucille’s personal life. Lucille was always the much loved woman who lived at Sea Breeze and took care of all of them. That was a child’s vision of the person, she realized with a burn of shame.

  “Lucille, why didn’t you ever get married?”

  “I didn’t want to.”

  “You never fell in love?”

  “Didn’t say that. Said I didn’t never want to get married.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why you want to know?”

  Dora rocked awhile. “No reason. I just realized I don’t know much about you. About your family. And I’ve known you all my life.”

  Lucille stopped rocking. “What you want to know?”

  “Do you have a family?” Dora asked.

  “No, not no more. My family used to live here on Sullivan’s Island. You know that.”

  Dora nodded.

  “A lot of black families used to live on Sullivan’s. But times got hard, and we left to move to the city when I was not much older than Nate. My mama found work, but my daddy . . . One night he went off and we never saw him again. Never found out what happened to him. My mama died a few years later. I was just thirteen.”

  “Lucille, I’m sorry. That’s so sad. Did you go to live with relatives?”

  “My two younger sisters went to live with my aunt upstate. It was hard on them taking on two more mouths to feed. They had their own chilluns to worry about. I was the eldest and they couldn’t take on the extra burden, so I went out on my own.”

  “At thirteen?” Dora asked, aghast. “What about an orphanage?”

  “There weren’t no orphanages back then, not for colored folk.” She shook her head and commenced rocking.

  Dora studied the woman’s tight lips and didn’t press with more questions.

  “I made my own way,” Lucille continued at length. “My mama, she took in ironing and taught me. When she passed, I had her iron, so I had some work. There were some nice women who looked out for me.” She turned away, frowning. “Some not so nice.”

  Dora couldn’t begin to imagine what life must have been like for a young, orphaned black girl in the 1950s, making a living for herself. It would have been Dickensian.

  “The Lord looked out for me, though. I went into service with your mamaw when I was eighteen and I been with this family ever since.” She turned her head. “You’re my family, hear?”

  Dora nodded, comprehending the depth of the comment.

  “So you think you’re in love with Devlin? That what you saying?” Lucille asked in an upbeat tone.

  Dora understood Lucille wanted to change the subject. “It’s way too early to say that. I like him. A lot. But with all that’s going on, I don’t think I should encourage him.”

  “A little late for that.”

  “A fling is one thing. A relationship is another. I mean, do I really want to take on another relationship so soon? All I want is to have a little fun. I’ve got enough to deal with without sparking gossip.”

  “Honey, no one’s looking that close. If any tongues wag, they’re just jealous. Look at your sister. Carson goes through men like nobody’s business. You think she cares what people think?”

  “I’m not like Carson.”

  “No, you ain’t. You ain’t like Harper, neither. Each of you girls have changed some since you were little and you’re gonna change more in the years to come. But you’re the same at the core. Carson, now she’s what you might call fearless. She takes the world head-on. But she gets knocked down on her bottom plenty, too. Harper, she likes to watch. She might seem to be on the sidelines, but she’s taking everything in. That girl don’t miss a trick. Something’s bubbling in that brain of hers, and I don’t know what it is. She might not either. Yet.” Lucille half turned to look at Dora and let her gaze sweep slowly over her.

  “And me?”

  “And you, Dora, you’re the rock. You always have both feet planted firmly on the ground. The one we can depend on.”

  “I don’t feel like a rock.”

  “You’re going through an earthquake now. Your world is shifting. That’s okay. Happens to all of us. Some folks crumble, but not you. You’ll settle again, and when you do, you’ll feel solid and strong again. Maybe even more than you did before. I know it.”

  Dora reached out to take Lucille’s hand. “Oh, Lucille, thank you. I needed to hear that tonight.”

  “It’s all gonna be all right,” Lucille said in a soothing voice, patting Dora’s hand over hers.

  “Can I come back again, to chat like this? Just you and me?”

  Lucille smiled and her eyes grew misty. “Why, I’d like that. For true.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The day was starting out to be a scorcher on Sullivan’s Island. No cloud broke the sun’s relentless heat, no breeze blew from the ocean. Sweat poured down the overheated faces of both Dora and Harper as they fought backbreaking struggles with deep-rooted monster weeds in the garden. They’d been at it for over an hour and had managed to clear nearly half of the garden. They’d been ambitious with their original design, but once they comprehended the great battle, they edited the garden to a more manageable size.

  Today, even that felt like too much.

  “Why are we even doing this?” Dora whined, pausing her digging to swipe the sweat from her brow. “My back aches and my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls.”

  “Because it’s fun?” Harper replied in jest, whacking at the parched earth with her hoe.

  “Yeah, it’s a riot,” Dora said with heavy sarcasm.

  Harper leaned on her hoe and caught her breath.

  “Really, what’s the point?” Dora asked. “Mamaw’s just going to sell the place. We won’t see it come to glory.”

  “Maybe not,” Harper said. Wiping her brow, she left a mud streak in the sweat. “But we’ll know it’s here, won’t we? Like it used to be.”

  Dora wasn’t convinced. “So what . . .”

  “So what, indeed,” Harper muttered as she let her gaze sweep Sea Breeze.

  The view from the Cove was its best side, she decided. Her Muir ancestors knew what they were doing when they’d chosen this spot on the quiet end of Sullivan’s Island. The old house was well situated on higher ground, with a broad rear porch facing the Cove. The porch provided a magnificent vantage point from which to view the Intracoastal Waterway. Mamaw had added the long black-and-white awning that provided shade for the oversized black wicker chairs, with their plump black-and-white cushions. A few steps down from the porch was another level of decking that surrounded the swimming pool and stretched the entire length of the porch. From this level, more steps led to the small patch of grass that continued on a downward slope to where the wild grasses bordered the marsh.

  This was where the long wooden dock extended over the marsh to the winding water of the Cove. The old, elegant Southern house, the broad veranda with chairs, the dock with a boat tied up were, for Harper, the very definition of a lowcountry setting. She was surprised by the love she felt for this place and how heartsick she was to see it leave family hands. So what, she wondered, feeling a bubbling resistance to the idea that she’d never be able to come back here, to Sea Breeze, to the only place she’d ever truly felt safe. So what . . . She didn’t want that to happen, that was so what.

  She heard Dora laughing and turned her head to see her sister looking at her with amusement.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You. Even digging in the garden, you make a fashion statement.”

  Harper looked down at her long-sleeved white cotton shirt and designer jeans. “It’s all I had,” she said, a tad defensively.

  “I don’t want to think how much those jeans cost,” Dora said.

  “After today, they’ll be worthless. And this shirt will officially be my gardening shirt because it won’t be fit to wear in public. Sort of like yours,” she teased, indicating Cal’s old Gamecock T-shirt, now relegated to garden duty. D
ora’s jeans might’ve been Cal’s, too. They were too big and unhemmed. Under her large floppy straw hat, Dora’s face was as bright as a cherry.

  “Maybe we should both take a break,” Harper said. “You shouldn’t push too hard, with your heart and all. I don’t want you digging your grave here.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Dora said with a dismissive wave. “The doctor wants me to have a good cardio workout every day and I’m thinkin’ this applies.”

  “I have to admit, this is a lot harder than I thought.” Harper wiped at her brow. “How big did you say your garden was in Summerville?”

  “A quarter acre.”

  Harper shook her head, incredulous. “Amazing. And ambitious.”

  “It was already framed out when I moved in. And I was younger.” Dora laughed. “It was in the same sorry shape as this when I took it over. Lord, I slaved over that plot of earth. But it was worth every minute. I grew all our vegetables for Nate. Everything was natural, no pesticides. And the butterflies!” She smiled wistfully.

  Harper brushed clumps of dirt from her shirt. “After all that work, why’d you let it go to seed?”

  Dora had asked herself that question many times over the years. There wasn’t an easy answer. “With Nate, it just came down to choices. I could go out to the garden or spend time with Nate. Nate won out every time. And later I homeschooled, which took a lot of time. Then there were his enrichment therapies, speech therapy . . . so many different therapies over the years.” She added pointedly, “I don’t regret how I spent my time.”

  “Of course not,” Harper readily agreed. “I don’t know if I’ll ever have kids, but if I do, I hope I’m half as dedicated a mother as you are.”

  The compliment caught Dora by surprise. Harper couldn’t know what it meant to her.

  “That was so nice to say. Thank you.”

  Mamaw called from the porch, “Come take a break, girls. I’ve brought iced sweet tea!”

  “You go get me one, would you?” Harper said. “There’s something stuck in here and I’ve almost got it out.” She gritted her teeth with determination. “Hand me that shovel.”