Lowcountry Summer eBoxed Set

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “It’s off!” she exclaimed, holding the gold band in the air between two fingers.

  Harper hooted aloud, bringing Dora’s hand closer for perusal. Dora’s hand was pink and pickled from the cold water, and there was a bruised spot below the knuckle of her fourth finger.

  “I’m free!” Dora shouted, pumping the air with her fist.

  “Not legally,” Harper said, giving Dora her hand back. “At least not yet,” she amended.

  “Maybe not. But from now on, Cal can take care of himself!”

  “Dora,” Harper said. “I think we were meant to find those manacles this summer.” She leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Let’s make a pact. You and I will no longer be bound by the expectations of others. No more shackles.”

  Dora grasped Harper’s hand. She’d always been a bit jealous that Harper and Carson had their own rallying call: Death to the ladies! Now she and Harper had their own call, as well. In a burst of joy, Dora reared back and threw the ring into the Cove.

  Together they shouted, “No more shackles!” Their whoops of glee echoed over the quiet waters.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Florida

  Nate’s fingers tapped his lips as he and Carson followed Lynne Byrd through the long halls of the Mote Marine cetacean hospital. Lynne was kind enough to take Nate on a tour of the lab and the sea turtle hospital, describing all the patients. His head turned from left to right, seemingly taking in the colorful murals of sea life that adorned the walls. Carson knew, however, that the little guy was searching anxiously for Delphine.

  At last Lynne pushed open the doors to the outdoor arena. The sunlight was so bright that Carson had to squint until her eyes adjusted. The enormous pool in the center of the arena now had netting arcing over it.

  “Good news,” Lynne said to Carson. “Delphine has been doing so well, we’ve moved her into the large pool, where there’s room for her to exercise. She’s still on antibiotics, but she’s a remarkable healer with a strong will to live.”

  Lynne led them toward the pool. “She was weighed this morning and is continuing to gain, which is a very good sign. It’s been touch and go with the condition of her mouth. At the beginning we only fed her live mullet and snapper, but now she’s accepting the dead fish—a mix of herring and capelin, too. She’s also interacting more with her environmental enrichment devices.” She turned to smile at Nate. “Toys.”

  “Where’s Delphine?” he asked pointedly.

  “You’ll see her, don’t worry,” Carson assured him. Like Nate, she wanted to break free and run to the pool to see Delphine.

  At last they reached the edge of the pool. Nate wanted to go closer but was cut off by Lynne’s outstretched arms.

  “Here’s how we’re going to do this,” Lynne said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Carson, you know the drill. You can help me give Delphine her antibiotics. While I get the meds, you can go in the water and let Delphine know you’re here.” She turned to Nate. “Sorry, Nate, but you can’t go in the water.”

  Nate looked stricken. “But I went in the water with the other dolphins.”

  “I know. But this is a hospital. It’s not allowed. But . . .” Lynne smiled at Nate, who reluctantly met her eyes. “How about I let you play with Delphine using some of her favorite toys? Her very best favorite is that pink ball in the bin over there.” She gestured toward a basket by the wall. “See it?”

  Nate scanned the room and, spotting it, nodded.

  “Okay, go stand by the wall and wait until I say you can throw it to her, okay? Carson and I have to give Delphine her medicine first. Stay by the wall,” she said.

  “That’s the rule,” Carson added for clarity, knowing he’d take it very seriously when put in that context.

  “Carson, if Delphine will let you, you can give her a rubdown. She loves those.”

  Carson was surprised she’d still be allowed to touch Delphine, now that the dolphin was so much improved. She knew Lynne didn’t want human interaction with the wild dolphins if possible, especially not touch. It made her wonder if decisions had been made as to where Delphine would be transferred once she was deemed healthy.

  “Is Delphine already slated to go to the Dolphin Research Center?”

  Lynne shook her head. “No. We haven’t given up on trying to release her into the wild.”

  “But the rubdown . . .”

  “It’s helping her heal, which is our top priority. This particular dolphin gets depressed in isolation. We had to make a call based on her needs. As for her release—when and where—the jury’s still out on that.”

  The pool was enormous and deep and the vast screening over it provided lovely dappled light that made patterns on the water. Carson stood at the edge and squinted into the shifting shadows, searching for the dolphin. Not seeing her, she lowered herself to sit on the edge and slipped her legs into the water. It was cool but not cold, refreshing against the searing temperature of the air. She searched the water for some sign of Delphine. Carson kicked her legs in the water, hoping the vibration would alert the dolphin and bring her close, if only out of curiosity.

  Nothing.

  Carson added a whistle. Sharp and clear, it pierced the quiet. It was the same whistle she’d always used at the Cove when she called Delphine. She glanced over her shoulder at Nate. He stood keen eyed and alert, watching.

  Suddenly she saw a gray shadow streaking through the water toward her. Her heart skipped a beat as the shadow swam close, then veered, doing a glide-by. She knew Delphine was checking out the stranger in the pool. Carson gasped with a laugh when a glistening head suddenly emerged from the water right before her. Two shiny bright eyes studied her for a moment. Then Delphine shot high in a vertical jump and released a whistle that sounded to Carson’s ears like a yelp of joy.

  “Delphine!” she cried, her heart near bursting. From behind her, she heard Nate shout out Delphine’s name and run toward the pool.

  “It’s her! It’s her!” he exclaimed, arching on his toes excitedly and pointing.

  Swimming past them again, Delphine tilted to her side, looking up. Passing Nate, she stopped and rose up, whistling.

  “She sees me!” Nate exclaimed, rushing to the pool’s edge.

  Carson watched as Nate looked into the dolphin’s eyes, overwhelmed with gratitude that Delphine had recognized Nate. There was an attentiveness between them—a connection—that went beyond words.

  Two female volunteers came closer from the other tanks, intrigued by what was happening in the pool.

  When Nate crouched at the pool’s edge, Carson put her hand out to stop him from getting too close. “Honey, I’m sorry, but you have to go back against the wall until Lynne tells you it’s okay to come close.”

  “No!”

  “Remember what Lynne said.” Nate was jumping up and down, getting overexcited. She feared a meltdown and spoke calmly but firmly. “Go stand by the wall. That’s the rule. If you do what Lynne says, you can play with Delphine. You’ll have your turn.”

  Reluctantly Nate went to stand by the wall, but he rose up on his toes and kept his eyes glued to Delphine.

  Delphine kept rising up in the water to peek out over the edge of the pool, obviously looking for Nate.

  “She knows you’re here,” Lynne called out to Nate. “She’s happy to see you. I told you she would be!”

  “What are all those marks on her body?” Nate asked, looking stricken.

  Carson looked at Lynne, who nodded at Carson, giving her the silent go-ahead to explain.

  “Those are her scars. But don’t worry, they will get better. Look how healthy she is. That’s what’s important.”

  Delphine began chattering excitedly, then took a rapid run around the pool before returning to where Carson stood. She tilted her head to study Carson with her shiny black eyes.

  Carson lowered her head closer to the dolphin’s. “Yes, it’s me. I’m back.” She braced herself with her arms and slipped into the pool. Delphine swam very
close, her eyes big and eager looking. The dolphin stopped in front of her and waited, as though inviting Carson’s touch. Carson tentatively reached out a hand in the water and held it inches from the dolphin, giving her time. Delphine moved to gently nudge the tip of her rostrum against Carson’s hand, then nudged her head against Carson’s fingertips. Carson felt the old connection and relaxed, letting her hands slide gently over the rubbery skin.

  “Hey, Delphine,” she murmured.

  Over and over Delphine swam past Carson, each time allowing Carson’s hands to rub her sides in a circular massage. After several minutes, Delphine faced Carson again, this time remaining under the water. Carson heard a quick staccato sound and felt a tingling on her abdomen, like tickling. Laughing, she tried to shoo Delphine away but Delphine was persistent, returning over and over to send the sonar to her belly.

  Lynne walked up carrying medical equipment in her arms. “What’s she doing?”

  “She’s echolocating. She won’t stop. She keeps coming back and doing it over and over. Look at her—here she comes again.” Delphine was gently poking her rostrum near Carson’s abdomen. Still laughing, Carson turned around, showing Delphine her back. “Is this a new game for her?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Lynne replied, slipping into the pool beside Carson. She handed Carson a long plastic feeding tube. “Sometimes she echolocates on the metal pole when we sweep the pool. I can feel the tingling on my palms. It’s kind of a weird feeling.”

  “Exactly.”

  Lynne gave Carson a curious look. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

  Carson barked out a laugh. “God, no. Why do you ask?”

  “A few years back I was in here with a dolphin and the same thing happened to me. The dolphin kept coming by and echolocating my belly. Over and over.” She laughed. “A week later I found out I was pregnant.”

  Carson felt her body go cold in the water. “You mean, the dolphin . . .” She couldn’t say the words.

  “. . . saw my fetus before I even did,” Lynne finished for her. “Amazing, huh? It could see something was different inside me and was curious. That little fetus is three years old now. Makes for a good story, doesn’t it?”

  Carson couldn’t reply. Of course she wasn’t pregnant, her mind screamed. Blake always used protection. Still, just the possibility freaked her out. She turned her head to look at Delphine, who was floating nearby, her mouth open and relaxed, watching her with an angelic smile.

  What do you know? Carson thought irritably.

  Carson had to focus as she assisted Lynne with administering the medication to a compliant Delphine. Then, at last, it was Nate’s turn to play. Carson climbed from the water to sit alongside the pool with her feet dangling in the water and watched Nate toss the ball over and over to Delphine. The dolphin was like a dog, never tiring of going after the ball and tossing it back. The two of them were in heaven. Nate didn’t need to get into the water. He was seeing for himself that Delphine was okay, that she didn’t blame him.

  Delphine isn’t the only one on the mend, she thought with a bittersweet smile. She remembered Taylor’s words: Not all wounds are visible.

  An hour after Carson and Nate had said their emotional good-byes to Delphine, with a promise from Lynne to keep Carson apprised of the dolphin’s progress, Carson stood with her hands on her hips, staring uncompromisingly at the little white stick lying on the bathroom counter. It was an exercise in frustration, like waiting for a pot of water to boil. She lowered her head and closed her eyes. She’d never realized how long three minutes could be. Nor that a heart could pound so fast or her hands feel so cold. Lifting her head, she checked the wall clock. Three minutes . . .

  She licked her lips, took a breath. Her hands were shaking as she held up the tip of the little stick to the color chart on the box.

  Carson stared at the stick and felt the blood draining from her face. She slipped slowly to the floor, feeling faint. Over and over her dazed mind kept screaming, There must be some mistake. She lurched for the box and read the directions again. Then she looked at the stick again. The two little lines were a bright, unyielding, mocking pink.

  Carson leaned back against the wall and stared at one long, narrow crack in the bathtub’s porcelain. It forked in the middle of the tub and became two cracks. She kept tracing the crack back and forth, her brain unable to think beyond the glaring truth of those two lines.

  She was pregnant.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Charleston, South Carolina

  Mamaw pulled the Camry into a space in front of the Medical University and craned her neck, searching for Lucille. Usually Lucille drove while Mamaw preferred to be the passenger. The Camry belonged to Lucille, and Mamaw didn’t feel comfortable with the strange car, but since she’d given the Blue Bomber to Carson she no longer had “wheels,” as Carson said. Today she’d driven Lucille to another of several recent doctor appointments. Mamaw did not like how weak Lucille was looking and insisted on driving her to the city. In turn, Lucille had insisted that Mamaw not wait in the hospital for her. Instead, Mamaw could do a little shopping in town, a rarity these days. She had tried to get into her old groove on King Street, but found that most of her favorite boutiques had closed, replaced by hip little cafés and trendy shops.

  There was a time she could walk into a boutique and expect the clerk to have a card on file with her sizes. Today no one knew her name. She’d spent her entire life in this city, was a sixth-generation Charlestonian. Generations of her family were buried in this city—her husband, her son—as someday she would be.

  And yet, sitting between these massive hospital buildings, watching the traffic go by and throngs of people crowding the sidewalks, she didn’t feel that it was home any longer.

  What was keeping her? she wondered. Not more than a minute later she spotted a slightly stooped woman in a navy-and-white shirtdress pushing through the hospital revolving door. She stopped on the sidewalk and stood clutching her bag, looking from left to right, the wind picking up the hem of her dress.

  “Lucille!” Mamaw called out the window.

  Lucille lifted her hand to acknowledge she’d seen her.

  When did Lucille get so old? Mamaw wondered as she eased the car into drive. And so frail? It seemed to have happened overnight. Worry creased her brow. A body didn’t get so frail so quickly with the flu. A shiver of fear swept over her as she pulled up to the curb.

  Lucille climbed into the passenger seat with a soft grunt. She fumbled with the seat belt buckle. Once Mamaw heard the click, she flicked on her blinkers and carefully steered the car back into traffic.

  “I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” Lucille said. Her voice sounded tired and she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

  Mamaw glanced at the woman beside her. Lucille looked drawn, her usually plump cheeks sunken. In her hand she carried a large paper bag from the hospital. Medicine, Mamaw guessed. She drove carefully through the tight traffic on narrow city streets, turned onto East Bay, then headed for the bridge.

  She breathed easier once she was on the expansive Ravenel Bridge that towered over the Cooper River. She glanced again at Lucille. Her head was turned as she sat quietly looking out at the expansive view of the Cooper River.

  “You have indeed kept me waiting,” Mamaw said.

  Lucille turned her head to look at her. “What’s that?”

  “I’m wondering,” Mamaw said, her eyes on the road ahead, “just how much longer you’re going to keep me waiting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When are you going to tell me the truth?” She quickly glanced at Lucille. “What’s going on?”

  Lucille turned her head and looked straight ahead through the windshield.

  “I thought we were friends,” Mamaw said.

  Lucille said nothing.

  Mamaw glanced again from the road. Lucille clutched the bag tighter but her face gave nothing away.

  “That we didn’t
keep secrets from each other,” Mamaw continued.

  “You told me you didn’t want no more bad news,” Lucille said.

  “What? When did I say that?”

  “A while back. In this very car.”

  Mamaw was flustered. “I don’t remember saying that, and even if I did, I certainly didn’t mean to be taken literally. Lucille, for pity’s sake, I know you don’t have the flu. Please tell me what’s going on.”

  Lucille turned to look at her. Then she said in a flat voice, “I got the cancer.”

  Mamaw felt her heart skip a beat, even as her stomach dropped. “Oh, no.” She swallowed hard, then asked, “What kind? What do the doctors say?”

  “Slow down,” Lucille said, tapping the dashboard. “You’re gonna kill us both.”

  Mamaw hadn’t realized she’d been accelerating her speed. She applied the brake and slowed to the speed limit. She took the Sullivan’s Island exit from the bridge and drove up Coleman Boulevard to the first parking lot she spied. She pulled in and stopped the car. Turning, she faced Lucille.

  “Tell me everything.”

  Lucille looked at her with compassion in her eyes. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re already making a list of what doctors to call, what treatments to try. Now, Miz Marietta, you’re just gonna have to listen to what I’m going to tell you without interrupting me. Okay?”

  Mamaw nodded and said uncertainly, “All right.”

  Lucille shifted her weight in the seat. “A while back I got these pains. I tried to manage them, but when they wouldn’t go away I went to see my doctor. He sent me to another doctor here at the hospital and they gave me a mess of tests.”

  Mamaw feared the worst. “What kind of—”

  Lucille put up her hand to stop Mamaw’s question and Mamaw snapped her mouth shut.

  “They told me I had cancer. Pancreatic cancer.”

  Mamaw sucked in her breath, then exhaled. “Oh, Lord.”

  “Today they told me it spread to my other organs. That’s why my stomach pains are so bad.”