The Summer Girls

by Mary Alice Monroe

  Carson spotted Ethan riding close along the beach, kicking up a large spray. She scanned the water and farther out she caught Blake catching air. He soared high into the sky and at the peak he lifted his legs, arching to bring the board high behind his back.

  Toy giggled and pointed. “Ethan’s not the only one showing off.” She turned her attention back to Carson. “I see the way he looks at you. I’d say that’s one fish that’s been hooked.”

  Carson’s gaze drifted away from Blake to Toy, grateful for the sunglasses covering the discomfort she knew was reflected in her eyes. The comment both delighted and troubled her. When people started pairing her off with someone, that was usually her cue to cut and run.

  Later, Toy suddenly straightened on her knees, laughed, and pointed to the ocean. “Here come those two rowdy boys, back from the war. Take off your hat, girlfriend, ’cause they got up-to-no-good smirks on their faces. You just know they’re going to drag us down to the water.” She squealed as the men rushed toward them.

  Carson looked up to see the two men bearing down on them at full speed. She went into a defensive crouch. “Don’t you dare,” she warned as Blake grabbed her by the arms and gave a tug that had her on her feet. Ethan went straight for the two children, hoisting one under each arm. Toy had no choice but to run after them, laughing and crying out to Ethan that little Danny wasn’t a very good swimmer yet.

  The tide was in and the sun shone high in the cloudless sky. The group caught their second wind, splashing in the waves while the children laughed and squealed in delight. Blake and Ethan put the children on their shoulders and had a chicken fight while Carson and Toy cheered them on. Danny crowed like a rooster with triumph when he and Blake toppled Lovie and Ethan into the surf. As the afternoon waned and the children began shivering, their fingers and toes wrinkled from the time in the water, they returned to their towels, where Ethan and Toy rubbed their shoulders dry. The women gathered the supplies and the men packed up the kite gear. The two children stood, towels wrapped around their slender shoulders and dragging in the sand, their damp hair sticking out at odd angles, nibbling cookies. Their eyelids were drooping like lowered awnings.

  Carson watched them and felt a strange ache in her heart. She’d never seriously considered having children. All her life she’d been consumed with whatever project she was working on, the glamour of traveling to exotic places, meeting famous people. Today, however, she’d had a lovely time playing with these two little ones on the beach, enjoying their squeals and refreshingly honest comments. She’d enjoyed spending time with Nate at Sea Breeze. This past month she’d rediscovered a different, quieter kind of happiness in the lowcountry with her family, new friends, and Delphine.

  They formed a ragtag army as they left the beach. Blake and Ethan carried kite gear and bags like pack mules. The two children trailed behind them, dragging their heels. Carson and Toy brought up the rear with the rest of the bags. Carson’s gaze followed the men. Blake was taller than Ethan, but not by much. They shared the same easy gait and the same devotion to these lowcountry waters.

  Blake turned his head to check on her. They made eye contact and smiled a message that spoke volumes. He was unlike other men she’d been with, and she’d dated a lot of men. Or, was he really that different? she wondered. Was the difference in her? Or was it simply more about the place and the timing?

  They had been blessed with sunny days and balmy breezes all week. In addition to spending time on the beach with Blake, Carson had spent an hour every day bringing Nate to the dock and slowly getting him acclimated to the seawater. Once the boy got over his initial fear, Carson discovered Nate loved being in the ocean. There was something about the rocking motion of it and the tightness of his life preserver that he found soothing. She was patient, helping him with rudimentary strokes and the art of kicking, unabashedly using the lure of Delphine for motivation.

  On the first day Nate complained about everything—the temperature of the water, how dirty it looked, the greasy feel of suntan lotion, and that he simply couldn’t do what she’d asked. She turned a deaf ear to his complaints and kept up her encouragement. She moved forward at his pace and gave him lots of praise, careful not to push him too hard. Nate needed to be allowed to trust himself in the water. As the week progressed, every day he complained a little less. And every day she kept her eyes peeled for the sleek gray dolphin.

  Delphine didn’t appear. With a stranger in the water, it was no wonder that the wild dolphin kept her distance. Carson knew she was checking them out, however. Once she’d felt the unmistakable tingling of echolocation on her legs. On the seventh day, however, Delphine made her appearance.

  “There she is!” Nate called out, almost leaping from his preserver.

  Carson shared his joy at seeing the large head emerge alongside them, Delphine’s dark eyes following their every move with great attention. She released a big bubble of air from her blowhole and hung back a bit, both curious and shy.

  “Where have you been?” Carson asked Delphine.

  Delphine tilted her head to peer at the boy as she swam past them, graceful and sleek. On the second pass, they heard the soft buzzing noise.

  “That feels funny,” Nate told Carson.

  “She’s checking you out. It’s okay. You’re feeling her echolocation. It’s kind of like an X-ray.”

  “You mean sonar,” Nate corrected her.

  “Yes,” she replied, thinking she had to be on her A game with Nate. He spent every night studying his books.

  As had she. Carson had read that dolphins liked children, and it was clear today that Delphine was curious about the boy. Delphine dared to come closer to brush Nate’s leg with her pectoral fin. Later, she swam closer again and nudged Nate’s leg, this time with her rostrum. Carson held her breath, knowing Nate didn’t like to be touched. It was a miraculous moment. Nate not only tolerated the dolphin’s touching his leg, he reached out and let his fingers graze her body as she swam by. He’d touched the dolphin. And Delphine had allowed it. Carson knew she’d never forget this moment. Some barrier had been broken. A connection made. She wished Dora was here to see it.

  They spent a heavenly afternoon in the cool water with lots of splashing and laughter. Nate clearly adored Delphine. The dolphin seemed to be the center of his world, and Delphine seemed to be equally fascinated with the boy. She was very maternal. The dolphin swam close to his side, as though allowing him to swim in her slipstream. She circled him, very attentive to his whereabouts and whistling frequently. When Nate swam too far out, Delphine slapped the water with her chin, chattering, and steered him back to the dock.

  Carson hurried to the dock, climbed up, and retrieved her camera from its bag. She felt again the creative urge to capture images of Delphine. She brought the camera to her eye and began clicking wildly, capturing the priceless moments of communication between the once-uncommunicative boy and the dolphin. It appeared to Carson that the dolphin recognized that Nate was a child and vulnerable, and, as she would have with any young dolphin in her pod, Delphine was acting as another auntie.

  Carson lowered the camera and looked out at the boy and his dolphin. In this cove, with Delphine and Nate and herself, there was no doubt there was something going on that she could only call magic.

  Later that afternoon when Lucille called them in for dinner Carson had to practically drag Nate out of the water. “You look like a prune,” Carson told him, pulling him onto the dock. Wrapping a thirsty, warm towel around Nate’s shivering shoulders, she laughed. “A stewed prune.”

  “I am not a prune, I am a mammal,” replied Nate.

  Nate was agreeable as she brought him upstairs to shower and shampoo. His soapy skin smelled sweet when he changed into his clean pajamas. He allowed her to comb his hair without the usual complaints.

  Lucille had cooked Nate’s favorites. She carefully laid three pieces of plain ham on his plate with three pieces of broccoli, making sure they didn’t touch. Then she came up to him an
d set a separate plate beside him. On this she put a heap of mashed potatoes. She didn’t say a word but stepped back and clasped her hands, waiting. Carson and Mamaw exchanged worried glances as Nate bent close to the potatoes in close inspection. This wasn’t an item on Dora’s specific list of approved foods, but Lucille had told them earlier she wanted to give the boy the chance to reject it. It was white and only had butter on it, so she was hopeful. They held their breath as Nate dipped the tip of his spoon into the soft mass, tapped it on his tongue, tasted it. Without another word, he dove in. They all exhaled. Lucille’s chest expanded and she took a seat at the table.

  Throughout the meal, Nate shoveled food into his mouth and regaled them with dolphin facts. He wasn’t a good conversationalist. He didn’t ask questions, nor did he care about their opinions. Rather, he ignored them as he went on and on, dispensing a seemingly endless number of facts about dolphins he’d read about in his books. But Carson and Mamaw were just relieved to see him so open and animated.

  “My, but you’re a fountain of information!” Mamaw exclaimed with a roll of her eyes.

  Later that night, Nate was so tired from all the physical exercise and sun that he offered no resistance to going to bed. “All the exercise and excitement took the contrariness right out of him,” Lucille commented.

  Carson tucked him in, and as she walked to the door, he called after her in a sleepy voice.

  “Aunt Carson?”

  “Yes?” she said, her hand on the light switch.

  “Tonight I would like to dream about dolphins.”

  Carson smiled, surprised. He had never referred to his dreams before. She didn’t even know if he had dreams.

  “Me too,” she answered softly, before giving a prayer of thanks. Later, as she lay in her bed, she closed her eyes, picturing Nate’s face in the ocean with Delphine, their eyes sparkling with happiness.

  The following day Dora returned to Sea Breeze and found her grandmother sitting in the shade of the porch like a queen bee in her yellow cotton tunic.

  “Darling girl!” Mamaw called out, raising both arms out. “You’re back. Give me some sugar.”

  Dora was surprised to see her grandmother looking so vivacious and tan. In contrast, Dora felt pale and exhausted.

  “How did everything go?”

  Dora had spent hours with her lawyer preparing the divorce settlement. It was an emotionally draining experience. Then she had to hire painters, plumbers, and electricians to get the house in decent enough shape to put on the market. In truth, she was glad to pack up her and Nate’s clothing and hightail it back to Sullivan’s Island again. She found the house she’d once loved depressing now.

  “As well as can be expected,” Dora replied evasively.

  “And the house? When will the painting start?”

  “I got a slot the week after next. There’s so much to do but we’re only able to afford the minimum. I hate to sell it as is.” She sighed. “Too poor to paint and too proud to whitewash.”

  “Do whatever you must. It’ll be cheap in the end.”

  “Where’s Nate?” Dora asked, sitting in a chair beside Mamaw.

  “He’s out in the water with Carson.”

  “Nate’s in the water?” Dora asked, alarmed.

  “That little boy is another fish out there, I swanny.”

  “He’s swimming in the cove?” Dora asked again with rising horror. She stood, fixing her gaze on the dock, squinting. “He’s not a good enough swimmer for that!”

  “Calm yourself, Dora,” Mamaw told her. “Carson’s with him and she’s been giving him swimming lessons. He’s doing marvelously.”

  Dora slipped back into the chair. “Swimming lessons?” she repeated, trying to make sense. “He takes lessons . . . without complaining?” She had persevered for years taking Nate to swimming lessons at their local country club and he’d hated them, hated the teacher, hated everything about it. He’d had temper tantrums each time they went.

  “Not a peep. He’s been such a good boy,” Mamaw said. “He thrives on the new regimen. I daresay we all do!”

  “What new regimen?” Dora sputtered.

  “You’ll have to follow it, too, my dear. We’re all committed. I feel wonderful! No fatty foods. No alcohol.” She smirked. “Or almost none. And the schedule . . . Honey, you’re going to love it. Carson is our early bird. She rises before the sun to go paddleboarding. Can’t help herself, bless her heart. The rest of us get up after the sun rises, around seven.”

  “Nate too? He gets up on his own?” Dora asked, thinking of all the mornings she had to wheedle and cajole him out of his bed. “Is he sleeping well?” she asked.

  “He sleeps just fine!” Mamaw exclaimed without guile. “All through the night. Why do you ask?”

  Dora, mouth agape, just shrugged. At home, he often awoke during the night.

  Mamaw went on. “He is particular about his food, as you warned, and we’ve been trying our best to stick to his diet. But once the food gets past his radar . . .” She shook her head and said as an aside, “No easy task, I tell you! He should be hired by the Department of Homeland Security. Anyway, once it’s approved, he gobbles it right up. And his appetite! It’s something else!”

  Lucille came out carrying a glass of iced tea. She handed it to Dora. “That boy loves him some mashed potatoes. Can’t get enough of them. He’ll eat them at every meal if we serve them. And we do,” she chuckled as she walked off.

  “Mashed potatoes . . .” muttered Dora.

  “That’s right, dear. He doesn’t object to the texture,” Mamaw said knowingly. “You’ll be so proud of his swimming, too. He’s made such progress! And in such a short period of time. I always said that Carson was a mermaid and now your son is too. Or should I say a merman? I have no idea what to call him, but he hates to leave the water. We have to drag that boy out. Then when Carson goes to work, I mind him. Sometimes I take him fishing. Lord, that boy loves to fish. He won’t eat it though, which I find peculiar. Lucille’s been cooking up the fish for the rest of us, but he’ll just stick to his ham without complaint.

  “Sometimes Lucille and I take him to the market, which he does not like.” She leaned closer and told Dora confidentially, “I don’t think he likes crowds. They make him nervous, especially when they bump him. But I needed to buy him a few things, like a new swimsuit and some sandals. And books. I’ve never known a child who loves to read so much. Except perhaps Harper,” she recalled as an expression of fond memory flitted across her face.

  Dora only nodded, taking it all in.

  “Then, in the late afternoons,” Mamaw continued, “we’re all tired and hungry and have a little quiet time in our rooms. At night, Carson does some work in her room and Nate cuddles up in front of the television to watch Animal Planet or something about nature.” She smiled. “He’s a natural-born Jacques Cousteau.” Mamaw sighed and shrugged, seemingly tired by the long presentation. “Then it’s dinner and bedtime,” she summed up.

  Dora listened to this recitation, stunned to silence. All this time she’d been worried witless about how Nate was faring at Sea Breeze, fearful that she’d put too much stress and responsibility on Mamaw and Lucille’s shoulders, concerned that Carson would resent an interruption in Mamaw’s private time at the house, and here they were, happy as a bunch of campers without mosquitoes.

  “I—I don’t know what to say,” Dora stammered.

  “No need to say anything, dear. Why don’t you take these towels down to the dock and see for yourself? Those two have been in there for hours. Be a dear and call them in for dinner.”

  Dora made her way down the long wooden dock toward the water, her mind trying to grasp all that she’d been told about schedules and swimming and good times. When she reached the end of the dock, she stopped short, unable to believe her eyes.

  Out in the water Nate was swimming like a seal with strong strokes, despite his life preserver, chasing down a red ball bobbing in the water a few feet away from him. He’d a
lmost reached it when a gray shadow shot past him and popped the ball out from the water. It was the dolphin! Dora’s heart nearly stopped. That animal was right beside her son.

  She almost shouted out a warning but the expression on Nate’s face silenced her. Her son was laughing. Nate burst forward and swam after the ball again, grinning from ear to ear. Carson wasn’t far from his side, calling out encouragement. This time Nate grabbed the ball and held on to it, beaming, while Carson whooped and the dolphin made nasal sounds that she’d have sworn sounded like laughter.

  Dora leaned against the railing. From below, Carson spied her up on the dock.

  “Dora!” she cried out, raising one arm from the water and waving. “Nate, look. Your mom’s here!”

  Nate swung his head to peer up and saw his mother on the dock. Dora waved her arm and grinned. “Hi, honey! I’m here!”

  Nate frowned and held the ball closer to his body. “Go away!” he shouted.

  “Nate!” Carson scolded him. “That’s not nice. Say hello to your mother.”

  “I’m not getting out!” he shouted angrily.

  Dora stared at her son glaring at her. She cringed, as though she could physically feel the delicate string that bound her to her son being ripped from her heart. It hurt, so badly.

  Out in the water, she saw Carson with her head bent close to Nate’s, coaxing him to come out of the water to greet his mother. She saw the way Nate listened to her, then begrudgingly acquiesced. He swam with strong strokes beside Carson, their pace evenly synchronized. Like she’d always wished her son would swim with her.

  Dora stood alone in the shade of the dock staring at the fast current in the water rushing past her. She had spent a dreadful week in appointments with her lawyers to begin divorce proceedings. She’d made temporary settlements and arrangements with the bank, and cried, desolate and alone in that empty Victorian house, packing up her and Nate’s things for the summer in anticipation of selling it. Her whole life seemed to be rushing past her. Calhoun had left her. They were selling her house. All she had left in the world was her son. And now he wanted nothing to do with her, either.