The Summer Wind (Lowcountry Summer)

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “He wants you to find the person?”

  She nodded.

  Devlin pinched his mouth, keeping what she was sure was a string of unsavory comments from flowing out.

  “I’ll take a look. And I should send him a whopping bill, just to teach him a lesson. Only you’d get stuck paying the bill. We can drive up together and I’ll take a good look around and give you my opinion, for what it’s worth.”

  “That would be so great. Apparently the workers are slacking off, too.”

  “I’ve got good crews who can do the work for a good price. If your guys are jerks, we’ll send them packing.”

  “What can I do to thank you?”

  Devlin gave her a wicked look that promised mischief, then pointed to the box of paneling. “Grab some gloves, woman, and lend me a hand. I’ve got work to finish before I cook you dinner!”

  They spent the rest of the afternoon paneling the back room together while Devlin’s old CD boom box played rock and roll. With the hum of the power tool and hammering, they couldn’t talk much. Instead they sang out the lyrics to songs they remembered from their youth, and during the occasional slow song, Devlin strolled over to her side, swinging his hips to wrap her in his arms and dance with her. He held her close, hummed in her ear, and smelled of sweat and wood, and it was pure heaven.

  When at last the room was paneled, Dora and Devlin stood back to admire their work. She’d actually helped panel a room, she thought with stunned surprise. And it had been fun! This is what she’d always imagined it would be like for her and Cal in the house they’d bought. Working together, side by side, taking pride in their accomplishments, sharing in the glory. It was never going to happen, not if they’d lived in that house for another ten years. She knew that now. It wasn’t the time or the money. Cal didn’t have Devlin’s skill or the desire to do the transformation himself. He wasn’t interested in anything but seeing it done. Cal was, simply, not Devlin.

  “Nice job,” Devlin told her, obviously pleased with the turnout.

  “I can see how you got hooked,” she said.

  “You had a good time, did you?” he asked, curious.

  “I did,” she replied honestly. “I never knew how physically exhausting it was, but I had a great time. Can I help with something else?”

  Devlin laughed then and wrapped her in his arms. “I knew you were a good ’un.” He kissed her nose, then patted her bottom in a signal they were done. “Let’s take a swim before dinner.”

  “I didn’t bring a suit.”

  “Yeah? So?”

  Dora made a face. “I’m not going skinny-dipping.”

  Devlin wagged his brows, then grabbed her hand. “Come on, I won’t look. Much.”

  Dora laughed but pulled away. “No way.”

  “Chicken. All right. Come on, then, and help me pull up dinner.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Down the dock, of course.”

  He took her hand again and she followed him outdoors. They walked single-file in the path he’d made through the tall grass that led to the wood dock. It was very long and very narrow, double the length of Mamaw’s dock at Sea Breeze, because it had to stretch much farther out over the grass to reach water.

  “It’s kinda rocky in spots, so be careful,” Devlin warned.

  Dora followed Devlin down the rickety walkway over pluff mud and grass. A few slats had rotted through, and Devlin was careful to point each one out along the way. At last they reached the end, where a rickety dock met the waterway.

  “I’ll have to replace the dock, too,” Devlin said. “Whew, it sure is hot today.” He took off his T-shirt and wiped his brow with it. “That water sure looks refreshing.” He glanced at Dora.

  Dora stuck out her hands. “Don’t. Just don’t!”

  “Kick off your sandals, darlin’.”

  “Devlin!” She kicked off her flip-flops.

  In a flash he grabbed her hand, pulled her close to the edge of the dock, and they both let loose a howl as they jumped together into the water.

  She hit the water, and it was cool and refreshing. She burst out laughing as she came up for air, her hair flowing back and the sun shining on her face. Devlin swam to her side and kissed her again, holding her close, beginning again the slow dance in the water.

  Later, they climbed back to the dock, refreshed. Devlin went to the edge and pulled up on a thick rope attached to the piling. His wet shirt clung to his body, revealing taut muscles straining as he pulled on the rope, hand over hand, until a large, black iron cage emerged, dripping water. Dora drew closer, curious, then stepped back when she saw at least a dozen crabs skittering noisily inside the trap.

  Devlin lifted the trap high and laughed. “You’re as skittish as one of these crabs. Haven’t you ever gone crabbing before?”

  “Never!” she exclaimed, warily watching the claws snapping in the air.

  “Stand back,” he said, easing the trap onto the dock. “We’ve got dinner!”

  Dora helped Devlin again, this time cooking the crabs in a big stainless-steel pot on a gas burner out on the back porch. Dora wore a towel like a sarong and slicked back her hair from her face. There was an old picnic table on the patio that was still standing . . . barely. Devlin spread newspaper over it, set candles in empty beer bottles, and laid out two wooden mallets and a roll of paper towels, while she shucked corn and melted butter. The boom box played golden oldies by Otis Redding.

  The sun was setting and Dora was on her third beer by the time the feast was ready. In the distance the glassy waters shimmered in hues of lavender and rose, setting a romantic mood. Devlin lit the candles and guided her to a seat on the bench.

  “I know this isn’t quite the setting of the restaurant the other night,” he said by way of apology.

  “No, it’s not,” Dora replied, swinging her leg around the bend and sitting. “It’s better.”

  Devlin lowered his face to kiss her neck, and she shivered in anticipation of what was to come. Once again, Devlin helped Dora wield a hammer, this time on the crabs to crack the shells and dig out the sweet meat. Putting the crab to her lips, she tasted the pungent Old Bay seasoning and the salt from the sea on her fingers, thinking she’d never in her life tasted anything so delicious.

  Tonight, no specter of Cal came between them. They talked seamlessly about whatever came to mind—Nate’s progress, Devlin’s plans for the house. Later they journeyed back to shared memories of the years they’d dated, laughing at crazy antics, calling out the names of old friends, favorite songs, rumors they’d heard, truths revealed.

  When they were done feasting, Devlin took her in his arms and once again they began to dance. He held her close as they moved left to right to the beat of the music, no longer remembering old times they’d shared, but dreaming of new ones to come.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Florida

  Today was special. Nate was becoming increasingly relaxed in his interactions with the dolphins from the floating dock. He’d learned hand signals and played games with the dolphins using balls and rings. He’d even had a T-shirt painted by a dolphin. Today, however, Nate was going to swim with the dolphins.

  “How do you feel about getting in the water with the dolphins today?” Carson asked Nate over breakfast. She put a spoonful of cold cereal in her mouth and began chewing, giving him time to answer. Earlier in the summer, Nate had swum daily with Delphine in the Cove behind Sea Breeze. Carson worried that he’d be nervous about going back in the water with a dolphin after Delphine’s accident.

  Nate scooped his cereal into his mouth and continued reading the back of the cereal box. When he finished, he set down his spoon and nodded seriously.

  “Good,” he said.

  “What’s good? The cereal or swimming with the dolphins?”

  Nate scowled, as though frustrated with his ninny of an aunt.

  “Good to swim with the dolphins.”

  That was all Carson needed to know. That, and the excited
look in his eyes gleaming against his tanned skin, spoke volumes.

  Once there, Nate ran ahead to the lagoon as usual. Carson moved slowly, feeling lethargic in the relentless Florida heat. Watching the boy trot along the path, she reflected on the transformation from a shy, timid boy into this happier, more relaxed version. He wasn’t outgoing; that was not his nature. Yet she could see he felt comfortable here after days of routine. Welcomed. The staff called out his name as he ran along the path, and though he didn’t verbally respond, he raised his hand in a wave of acknowledgment. Most telling of all was the joy she captured on film when he swam with the dolphins.

  Joan and Rebecca were waiting and guided them to a different section of the park. This was on the opposite side from where the female dolphins lived. It was a break in his routine from the front lagoon and Carson held her breath as she watched Nate tap his fingers against his mouth, a sign she recognized now as nervousness. But Joan led the way with confidence, marching Team Nate past the wood railings that bordered the lagoon and the houses where the sea lions lived. Two sleek females were basking like mermaids on rocks. Turning a corner, Carson paused to take in the wide expanse of gorgeous Florida Bay.

  “So these are the bachelor pods,” she said.

  A long coral causeway was covered with the same thatched island-style roof found at the front lagoon. It created a shaded space for guests while they watched the dolphins. Each side was lined with spacious enclosures, partitioned to house different pairs or small groups of dolphins.

  When they reached the partitioned dock that Nate would use today, Carson grabbed a spot on the bench in the shade.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to join us in the swim today?” Joan called to her. “You’re welcome to, and it’ll be fun.”

  “No, thanks. I want to take pictures,” she called back. She lifted the camera hanging around her neck to prove the point.

  “We have a photographer,” Joan reasoned. “He’ll make sure to get plenty of great shots of Nate.”

  Carson paused.

  A part of her wanted to go into the water with Nate, to feel the rubbery skin of the dorsal fin under her hand again and glide across the lagoon. That feeling was unlike any other. But she couldn’t face swimming with another dolphin. Not yet. She’d had such a rare and unique bond with Delphine. She missed seeing Delphine’s bright, inquisitive eyes, hearing her high-pitched whistle or her nasal staccato laughs. Swimming with another dolphin would be too painful.

  She shook her head. “My stomach’s feeling a bit off,” she called back. “Better not. But thanks.”

  Carson bent over her huge canvas bag where she kept all their supplies and pulled out the lenses she wanted to use today. A dog’s bark from the far end of the lagoon caught her attention, and turning her head, she was surprised to see a large black dog on the lower dock at the end of the pavilion. A dog near the dolphins wasn’t the norm. Curious, she rose and joined the cluster of tourists craning to watch the interaction between the big black dog and a dolphin. They were laughing and pointing.

  Carson lifted her camera. Through her lens she saw the big dog lower its pointy nose as it inched with agonizing slowness toward the edge of the dock. The dolphin appeared equally curious about the dog and was rising higher in the water, angling closer.

  Carson held her breath, her finger on the button.

  The big dog reached the edge, then stopped. The dolphin moved forward to touch its rostrum against the dog’s nose.

  Carson clicked the camera. “Got it!” she said, grinning. She felt as if she were the big black dog as its tail began wagging a mile a minute. Carson kept clicking away as the dolphin returned for more kisses. It was clear the two animals were having a good time.

  When a man came to take hold of the dog’s collar and, with a gentle pat, lead it away from the dock’s edge, she lowered her camera and joined the chorus of groans from the audience who were enjoying the tender scene. He tied the dog to the dock post in the shade and gave the dog’s big head several more pats. When he returned to the lower dock and looked out, Carson realized that the man was Taylor.

  She knew she should go right back to Nate’s dock, but she couldn’t resist watching Taylor give signals to the two dolphins at his dock with the ease and authority of any of the other trainers. He was working with two male dolphins, one huge and the other small. She poised her camera and photographed Taylor giving a command that sent the dolphins swimming off underwater. Clicking rapidly, she caught shots of them leaping skyward in a beautifully synchronized leap. The big dolphin reached a remarkable height, while beside him the smaller one climbed not nearly as high.

  Carson’s heart lurched when she saw a chunk was missing from the smaller dolphin’s tail fluke, like Delphine’s. She followed the small dolphin with her camera, focusing in on the details. When the small dolphin emerged again at the dock to receive a fish, she saw that part of its dorsal fin was missing as well. The crowd applauded and Carson caught a great shot of Taylor’s face breaking out into a reluctant grin.

  “I could watch him all day,” a young woman to her left remarked to her friend. “And I’m not talking about the dolphin.”

  “Mm-hmm,” her friend agreed, before they bent their heads together, giggling.

  Perusing the group, Carson couldn’t help but notice how many of the women had their gazes not on the dolphins but on the handsome trainer. With her camera she captured his muscles exposed beneath his sleeveless T-shirt, the long swim trunks falling from his hips. Besides his good looks, his movements were graceful like a dancer’s. What made him all the more attractive was his being oblivious to the attention he was receiving. His focus was solely on the dolphins.

  Carson lowered her camera, feeling an undeniable racing in her blood, a spine-tingling attraction to the ex-Marine. She was only human, after all. But then Blake’s smiling face popped into her head, and she felt guilty that the first time she’d left Blake, her gaze was wandering.

  Carson covered her lens and hurried back to the other side of the pavilion to Nate’s dock. She quickly took several photos of Nate chest-deep in the water, grinning ear to ear while confidently giving signals to a big dolphin. Then she went back to the bench and, pulling out her phone, placed a call to Blake. She wanted to hear his voice. Blake had been out doing fieldwork for the past several days, out of phone range. Once again, her call was sent to voice mail.

  Sighing and putting her phone in her bag, she looked up to see Nate engaged in a splash battle with the dolphin. Clearly the dolphin was winning and Nate was loving it. As she watched, her mind drifted back to Blake. She’d never been in love before, but she thought what she felt for Blake might be love. So her attraction to Taylor was a red flag.

  “Still stalking me, I see.”

  Carson whipped her head up to see Taylor standing by the bench, a crooked grin on his face. He held on to a thick, black “Service Dog” harness attached to the black dog she’d seen on the dock. The dog was so big that, sitting on the bench, she was eye to eye with it.

  “Taylor!” she exclaimed a little too loudly, rattled that he’d snuck up on her just as she was thinking about him. “I didn’t know if I’d see you again. And certainly not training dolphins.”

  Taylor’s grin widened as he took a seat on the bench beside her. He seemed more relaxed today, and she wondered if it was because of his session with the dolphins or because he was with his dog.

  “Didn’t I tell you I was having sessions here?”

  “You did, but I thought you were doing what Nate’s doing, not training. You looked good out there, by the way,” she said, then blushed slightly at the double entendre. “I took some pictures. Here, take a look.”

  He leaned closer to look into her camera’s LCD panel, their shoulders touching. Once again she felt a jolt of attraction. She flicked through the photos, enjoying the sound of his deep laughter and his occasional “That’s a good one.”

  “I’ve got to get copies of Thor with the dolphin,” h
e told her.

  “Sure. I’ll send them to you. What’s your e-mail?”

  “I don’t have a pen or paper,” he said.

  “No problem.” Carson turned to dig again into her bag, pulling out her card. “Here’s my card. Just e-mail me and I’ll send them to you.”

  “Great. Thanks.” He tucked the card into his shorts.

  “You were great out there,” Carson said.

  “I’ve been training here for almost a year now.” He smiled a bit sheepishly. “They’ve offered me a job.”

  I’ll bet, she thought to herself. There’d be a line of women at the gate clamoring for tickets. “Congratulations.” She grinned and, turning her head, stared into a pair of dark brown eyes. “And your dog, too?”

  He laughed and reached out to pat the dog’s head. “Where are my manners? Carson, this is Thor. Thor,” he said to the dog, “say hello to the pretty lady.”

  Thor shifted his adoring gaze from his master to Carson and lifted his giant paw.

  “Whoa,” she said as the paw hit her lap. “That’s a pretty big paw you got there, pal.” Carson loved dogs, especially big, gentle ones. Thor reminded her of Blake’s dog, Hobbs, with his large block head, wide chest, and floppy ears. He also had large, soulful eyes she could lose herself in. They reminded her of Blake’s eyes.

  “He’s a great dog,” she told Taylor, who was watching Thor with affection.

  “Yep, he is,” Taylor agreed, patting his head again. “He was rescued from the pound and trained as a service dog. He’s a mutt, but I’m guessing he’s part Great Dane and part Lab and part something else that gave him that patch of white on his chest that looks like a lightning bolt. Reckon that’s how he got his name.”

  Carson began to absentmindedly scratch Thor behind his ears, and his tail started thumping in response. Taylor was a Marine with a service dog, she thought to herself. Interesting.

  “You said you were in a program with Joan?”

  Taylor looked across the walkway to where Joan sat on the dock watching Nate.

  “I was here for the Wounded Warrior Project.”