Swimming Lessons

by Mary Alice Monroe

  Ethan stood at the door holding flowers.

  Flowers. Her stiff smile bloomed with sincerity as she exclaimed over the gorgeous stems of pale, petal-pink tulips and fragrant freesia. The scent was overpowering as she lowered her face into the bunch.

  “You didn’t have to.”

  “I wanted to.”

  She raised her gaze over the tips of pink and was pleased to see that Ethan had dressed carefully for the evening as well. Though still in casual attire, his brown eyes seemed to glow over his coral polo shirt and khakis pants. There was about him an alertness that revealed he, too, might be a bit nervous.

  “Let me put these in water. Come in.” She was aware of his eyes on her as she walked ahead of him into the small kitchen. She reached on tiptoe to get a vase from a high shelf. Suddenly he was behind her grasping the vase.

  “Thank you,” she said feeling strangely formal as she filled the vase with water then put the flowers into it. She busied her hands, feeling self-conscious in her new sundress and Cara’s pearls.

  “You look beautiful,” he told her.

  Her hands stilled. “Really?”

  “You should always wear pearls. They suit you. You know, in the East they say that pearls take on the soul of the person who wears them.”

  “I’ve never heard that.” She smiled and thought to herself she was glad that she’d be carrying a little bit of Cara along with her tonight. Maybe some of her self-confidence and elegance would rub off on her.

  “It’s quiet without your little one around. Where is that minx?”

  “I brought her over to Cara’s. She hasn’t been there much lately and was so excited. She was jumping around, begging me to hurry and hanging at the door like a dog that hadn’t been walked in a week. Brett’s going to take her fishing.”

  “I could take her fishing.”

  Toy thought she heard a slightly wounded tone in his voice, like he was jealous.

  “Why, she’d just love that. Anytime.”

  “We’ll go next week, then. I have to collect some specimens for the Aquarium and I won’t be going all that far out. Speaking of which, we should get going,” he said, looking at his watch. “I’ve a few surprises lined up.”

  “I like surprises,” she said, grabbing her purse and a summer sweater. “Are you offering any clues?”

  “Just one. We’re going to the Aquarium first.”

  She felt a charge of disappointment. “For work?”

  “Nope. To pick up our ride.”

  An hour later Toy was speeding through the harbor on the Aquarium’s sexy new fishing boat. The Scout was twenty-eight feet of unmatched, gleaming white power and she had to hold tight as Ethan let the twin Yamaha outboard motors roar through the harbor. She felt giddy at the rush and lifted her chin to laugh out loud as the wind streamed across her face like water. Hearing her laugh, Ethan turned from the wheel, his dark hair slicked back by wind and a grin stretching ear to ear. Yes, he was born to be on the water, she thought and grinned back at him, her eyes dancing with delight.

  The water crossing the harbor was choppy but the boat soared through the green-gray peaks like a knife through butter. To her left she saw the great Ravenel Bridge, its two peaks looking like the masts of graceful twin sailing vessels. Over the roar of the engines he pointed in the direction of the enormous aircraft carrier at Patriot’s Point. The Yorktown was permanently docked in the harbor as a tourist site and she’d seen it hundreds of times from the bridge. Yet the closer they drew to it, the larger it loomed until she felt dwarfed by the colossal size of the great ship.

  Around them other pleasure boats were taking advantage of the warm weather for a sunset cruise. Several boats passed them, some filled with teens who whooped and hollered as they zoomed by, others with parents and children in life jackets, and still other couples like themselves who casually lifted a hand in a universal greeting. Several boats were headed for Patriot’s Point. Every Friday the “Party at the Point” had live bands and dancing, a popular summer spot for Charleston. She thought that was where Ethan was taking them, but Ethan veered away from the Mt. Pleasant side and headed back into the heart of Charleston Harbor.

  She was curious, but he’d told her he had some surprises and she didn’t want to spoil them. She looked behind him to where a red cooler sat beside a large canvas bag stuffed with an old blue quilt. Her mind was spinning with questions about what was in the cooler when the boat hit the wake of a large tour boat and bumped the water hard. With a yelp her hold slipped and she lost her balance, tumbling to the side. Ethan’s arm shot out to grab her waist and pull her close.

  “Almost lost you there,” he said. Then looking down at her he added, “Wouldn’t want that to happen.”

  She pushed the windblown hair from her face. As he negotiated the water, she negotiated the rush of feelings racing through her when he didn’t release her. She fit neatly under his arm and leaned into him, relaxing in degrees, relishing the warmth and feeling in some strange way like she always belonged there. The engines roared as they picked up speed. A pair of dolphins raced alongside their boat, playing in the wake. Their gleaming bodies arced and dove in the churning water and Toy laughed aloud, feeling like she was riding atop their soft gray bodies. Her hair streamed behind her, water sprayed her face in tiny droplets and looking up, she saw Ethan grinning wide, enjoying her reaction.

  He steered the boat closer to what looked like a dilapidated old brick and mortar castle on a spit of land smack in the middle of Charleston Harbor. She’d read about Castle Pinckney in her history books, of course, but never went there. It wasn’t a public park or a destination for tour boats, like Fort Sumter, and was off limits to all but licensed personnel.

  Slowing down, Ethan released his hold on her and used both hands to maneuver the boat closer to the shore. The mighty engines growled low under churning water. Then the engines stopped and the world was instantly thrust into blissful silence. Her senses heightened and she could hear the gentle lapping of water against the boat, the creaking of rope and the sound of multiple birds crying out from the island.

  “We’re here,” he announced. He moved with the speed of experience as he moored and set anchor.

  “We’re going ashore?”

  “That’s the plan.” He turned to gather together the cooler and the canvas bag.

  “But, I thought the island was restricted. Won’t we get in trouble for trespassing?”

  “Some people could,” he replied. Then looking at her he cast a cocky smile. “But not me. I’m approved.”

  Of course he would be. She was silent a moment then looked down at her brand-new sundress and strappy sandals. Her hand reached up to touch Cara’s pearls at her neck. “Ethan, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we were going to an island. I didn’t wear the right clothes.”

  “You’re dressed fine.”

  “But my shoes, my dress…”

  “Well, the shoes might be a problem.” He dug into the canvas bag and pulled out a pair of dime store rubber sandals that were bright neon pink. “So I brought these. I think they’re your size.”

  She laughed as they dangled in his hand. “Great color. Perfect for my green dress. Speaking of which, is there a swimsuit in that bag for me? Or maybe shorts and a top?”

  “No, but I’ve got a blanket for you to sit on so your pretty dress won’t get ruined.”

  “I still have to get to the island from the boat.”

  “No problem there, either. I’ll carry you. You won’t get a drop of water on you.”

  Carry her? She stared at him while, in a flash, she recalled the story Cara had told her of her first date with Brett. He’d taken her to a remote hammock in the marsh and he’d carried Cara on his back like a pack mule all the way from the boat, through the pluff mud, to the hammock. It had all sounded so unbelievable and romantic when she’d first heard the story. Cara loved telling it and embellished the tale more and more as the years went by. Toy had always listened to the story with dr
eamy eyes, and now here was Ethan, offering to carry her ashore. She chuckled to herself and fingered Cara’s pearls, wondering if the old saying about them was true after all.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked, his tone mildly hurt. “You don’t think I can carry you?”

  “No,” she replied, quick to reassure him. “I mean, yes, I think you can carry me. It’s just, well, so…unexpected.”

  His frown lifted and his smile turned smug. “That was the idea.”

  While she put on her rubber sandals, he rolled up his pants and climbed overboard into the water. It was only knee deep for him and she lifted the cooler and the canvas bag over the side of the boat for him to carry ashore.

  “You’re next,” he said, when he came back.

  “Do you want me to go piggyback?” she asked, thinking again of Cara’s story.

  “No. Just swing your legs over the edge and I’ll catch you. It’s not far.”

  The boat rocked as a wave hit it. She gripped the sides tight. “You mean, just let go and fall back?”

  “It’s easy, like catching a baby.”

  “I’ll be the biggest baby you’ll ever carry.”

  He looked at her and chortled. “Hardly. I’ve carried some big girls in my time without a problem. I’m pretty sure I can manage a little thing like you. Come on, Toy, trust me.”

  Trust me. If he only knew how big a deal it was for her to trust a man. She’d been disappointed by men all her life. She could think of one or two clowns who might actually step aside and let her hit the water and think it was funny. And here was this man, asking her to just fall back and let go.

  She chewed her lip as she recalled how, whenever she was afraid, Miss Lovie had asked her, “What is the worst thing that could happen?” She thought of her new dress that had consumed every extra penny she’d had, of Cara’s pearls. She looked down into the water and saw Ethan standing knee deep in the sea, the lapping waves dampening the edges of his rolled up pants. He was a tall man with strong, muscled arms. She’d seen him lift two-hundred-pound sea turtles, he could certainly catch her one hundred and fifteen pounds.

  And this wasn’t just any man, she reminded herself. This was Ethan. Besides, the worst thing that could happen to her was she’d get wet.

  “Ready, set, go,” he called to her.

  “Okay, here I come.” She gripped the side of the boat and gingerly lifted one leg over the side. “No peeking under my skirt.”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  Next she put her weight on her belly then lifted her other leg over, leaving herself dangling on the side of the boat. Her arms shook with strain and once again she felt Ethan’s hands around her waist.

  “Okay, Toy, you’re supposed to let go now.”

  Toy closed her eyes and let go. With a squeal she fell back and in an instant she found herself cradled in Ethan’s arms. He’d caught her. She was so relieved she burst out laughing and swung her arms around his neck. “I did it!”

  “Well, actually, I did it,” he teased. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  If he only knew. But she shook her head no.

  Ethan carried her like she weighed no more than the canvas bag and she was sorry the distance to shore was so brief. He held her on the sand, smiling into her eyes.

  “Ethan, you’re supposed to let go now.”

  He let her down on the sand. “Like it here?”

  She looked around, orienting herself to the small, marshy island. It was actually more shoal than island, lots of rocks and marsh and very little beach. Everywhere she looked there was bird doo and the shells of thousands of oysters.

  “This is one of my favorite places,” he told her. “It’s so wild, yet so full of history. Not far from here is a bird sanctuary and, in fact, if you look around you’ll see pelicans are nesting here, too. We’ll need to be careful not to disturb them. The pelicans and gulls fly overhead and drop oysters down on the island. The impact of the drop pops the suckers open. Then the birds swoop down and gobble up their meal. Pretty clever, don’t you think? That’s why you see the empty shells all over.”

  She looked around the rocky island. Not far beyond were the walls of the tall masonry fort that looked to be holding back a burgeoning maritime forest. She pointed to a narrow path that snaked through and disappeared in the thick brush. “Where does that path lead to?”

  “To Pinckney’s Castle, where else? But it’s not really a castle at all. Just an old fort. Here, take my hand. And mind where you step.”

  He held her hand and led her along the winding path to the crumbling brick walls of the historic monument. Nature was gradually succeeding in doing what no cannon or firepower could. Vines pushed through crumbling brick, creating huge holes in the structure. A steady breeze and the lowering sun cooled the air somewhat but the heat still brought a glow to her skin as they made their way through the tangled weeds to the deep shade of oak and palmetto.

  They picked their way through the crumbling fortress. Toy imagined they were kids and playing in a make-believe fort, only this fort was real.

  “I don’t know much about Castle Pinckney, other than it was used in the war.”

  “After South Carolina seceded from the Union, Castle Pinckney was forced to surrender. That made it the first Union fort to surrender to the Confederacy. But there’s a debate whether anyone actually ever fired a shot from Castle Pinckney. They used to hold prisoners down in there.”

  “In that dark and dank place? I can’t imagine having to stay in there.”

  “I doubt many prisons were comfortable. But what a view they got. Come here, Toy. Look out there,” he said guiding her view to the spectacular vista of harbor and sea. “From this point you can get a real sense of how important this harbor was during the war and how important it was to defend it.” He pointed to the north. “To the left is Sullivan’s Island with Fort Moultrie. And over there in the harbor is Fort Sumter, which is probably the most shot at and bombed fort in the country. And way over there to the south, Fort Waggoner was built on Morris Island. They had a big battle there, one of the major ones fought by a black regiment.”

  “I didn’t know you were so interested in history,” she told him.

  “I’m not especially. But you can’t grow up in Charleston without learning it. History is all around us. Wherever we turn we run into a monument, trip over a historical marker or face some bit of where we came from and what made us who we are. Living here, for me anyway, is like having one foot in the past and one in the present. Just look at this crumbling old fort. We’re standing on over two hundred years of history. But all around the crumbling rocks, the wild is pushing up and through the stones, determined to survive. Someday the brush and then the sea will reclaim this island, just as it will a lot of the barrier islands. Probably that old lighthouse, too.”

  “That’s kind of sad.”

  “I don’t think so. It gives us a better perspective of our place. We hold our history so dear, our politics so tight. But in the fullness of time, all histories fade. Rome, Ephesus, the Incan and Mayan cultures. The wheel of time turns round and round and proves change is part of nature. The problem comes in trying to interfere with nature or to think we know more than nature. Our failures are humbling. The more I learn, the more I see that, in the end, nature will prevail.”

  She turned to look behind her at the weathered gray stone fortress sinking in the marsh and thought of his words. Change is part of nature. Hadn’t she changed, too? Lately, she could feel her old fears and insecurities crumbling as sure as that old brick and mortar.

  She gazed far out to the watery horizon. The sun was beginning to set and the mood deepened with the skies. Ethan came to stand behind her and wrap his arms around her. She sighed and leaned once more into the warmth of his arms with a timeless ease. Together they watched the descending sun set the sky on fire.

  To the south, Cara sat on her dock and watched the pink bloom over Hamlin Creek, slowly turning the glassy waters that unique, soft tin
t of lavender that always moved her to introspection. She sank deeper into the mesh folding chair and stretched her legs out along the dry, splintered wood. Across the dock, Brett sat at the edge, feet dabbling in the water, teaching Little Lovie how to fish. She was so small she had to hold the rod between her knees. Cara watched him patiently help Lovie hold the rod steady and how to swing the line to lure the fish.

  Cara had offered to mind Little Lovie for the evening. She smiled. Toy was out on a date…at last! She felt like the proud mother of a fledgling. Cara approved of, and even liked, Ethan Legare. Not because he was handsome. Good looks had never meant much to her. She’d known plenty of handsome men who turned out to be empty-headed bozos. Ethan had that rare quality called character. She saw it in him when she first met him, as she’d seen it shining in Brett’s eyes. That Ethan had brains was a big bonus. Toy would blossom with someone like him. Her mama had always told her to marry someone who raised the bar.

  Yes, Cara was pleased as punch that Toy had agreed to actually go out with Ethan, just as she was happy to have Lovie for the evening. She’d missed having Lovie patter around and all her questions.

  June had flown by. If all went well, July would be a quiet month of hope and prayer that the new life inside of her would thrive. She sighed deeply and looked out over the dusky creek. As the rounded, flaming tip of the sun slipped beneath the horizon, Cara laced her hands across her belly and made a wish.

  “Well, we should roll her in. It’s getting dark,” Brett said to Lovie. On cue, the mosquitoes hummed annoyingly close.

  “But I didn’t catch a fish,” Lovie complained.

  “That’s the lot of all fishermen,” Brett told her. “You just never know.” Then seeing her pout he added, “But let’s see if we’re any luckier with the crabs.”

  “Do you want me to help?” Cara asked, attempting to rise from her chair.

  “You stay put,” Brett replied, pointing his finger at her.