by Mary Monroe
“We’ll get them in today,” Brett added.
“Oh, no,” Lovie said to Brett with a warning tone. “You can’t get involved.”
“Worried that will make me an accomplice?”
Cara replied with amusement, “Now we’ll be Bonnie and Clyde.”
He snorted and shook his head, acknowledging the private joke between them. “You do remember what happened to them, don’t you?”
“I’m quite serious, Brett,” Lovie said.
“So am I, Miss Lovie.”
“On that note, let me get something for us all to drink,” Cara said, turning to leave for the kitchen.
When Brett followed Cara into the kitchen to help, she tugged him closer.
“Okay, now tell me everything. Where did you find Toy?” she whispered heatedly.
“At a hospital. I exhausted the shelters first, then someone told me that if she was having a baby, they’d likely send her to a hospital even with a hurricane warning. So I started combing the hospitals. I found her on the third try. By that time she’d already had the baby.”
“Poor thing. And all alone.”
“She wasn’t alone. She was with Darryl. Apparently he stayed with her till she delivered. That was decent of him, at least.”
“Oh, please. So, what’s become of him? Is he still lurking?”
“Toy didn’t say much, but I gather he went to California this morning after all. Something about an important gig his band had lined up.”
“Yeah, right. Him and a thousand other bands. At least he’s gone. We won’t have to worry about him coming around here anymore.”
“For the time being, anyway. They tend to come back, sooner or later.”
“He didn’t hurt her, did he?”
“No. Oddly enough, it might have been the other way around. He wanted her to go with him, but without the baby. Toy refused. She wouldn’t leave her baby behind.”
“Really? Good for her. Poor girl, I’m sure that was a tough decision.”
He tugged his earlobe. “I don’t know. She didn’t seem too heartbroken when I found her. She was eating a big breakfast and had this ear-to-ear grin on her face.”
Cara chuckled, envisioning it. “You know, I’d thought for a while that she was going to leave the baby with me. There were little hints, odd questions and looks sprinkled over the summer. When I put them all together, I wondered.”
“Would you have wanted the baby?”
She saw that he was anxious and knew he’d take her reply very seriously. “In an odd way, yes. I fancied what it would be like being a mother. I didn’t think I would ever be one and the thought that a child—not just any child but this child that I’d helped care for—would be given to my care was very tempting. But, of course, I’m delighted that Toy has decided to keep her baby. It was the best decision for her and for the child. But it won’t be easy for her to handle. Her whole life has changed.”
“I wonder how she’ll manage.”
“She won’t have to worry about that for a while. Right now all she has to do is take care of that baby. This is her home. Down the road I’ll help her make the best decision. I won’t let her down.”
“I never thought you would.”
She looked at him, grateful that he always saw the best in her. From out on the porch she heard Flo yell, “Do you need any help in there?” She was reluctant to go. She wanted to lean against him and talk about the thousand and one thoughts that had coursed through her mind as she’d sat in the crawl space and watched the black water rise.
“I’d better get these drinks out there,” he said, grabbing several bottles in his hands.
“Yes. They’re waiting for us.” Then she lifted her hands to his sides and leaned forward to kiss him softly on the lips.
He looked down at her with a perplexed smile. “What’s that for?”
“For the Here. And Now.”
His gaze kindled and he lowered his lips to hers for another, longer, lingering kiss that was gentle yet ardent and full of promise. When he pulled away, a soft sigh escaped her lips.
“We’d better go while we still can,” he said, but his eyes revealed he’d been shaken every bit as much by the kiss as she had.
She gathered the plastic cups and followed him out to the porch where they sat among the ruins and toasted the new mother and her baby with bottled water and juice.
“Have you given that precious darling a name yet?” Flo asked Toy.
Everyone stopped talking and turned toward Toy with interest.
Toy’s face brightened, and despite the mess that surrounded them, she carefully set her plastic glass on the coaster on the table. Then she looked at Lovie with shining eyes.
“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to name her Olivia.”
Lovie’s face bloomed into a radiant smile.
“What did she say?” asked Flo. “Olivia? Oh, how wonderful. It’s perfect.”
Cara smiled her approval and gratitude at Toy.
“Here, you can hold her,” Toy said. She gingerly settled the sleeping baby into Lovie’s thin arms, slowly removing her hands until she was sure that Lovie had a firm grasp. Still, Toy hovered over them both like a worried hen.
Miranda nodded grandly. “Little Lovie,” she said in her serious manner, giving her approval of the name and securing her nickname forever.
Everyone observed the sight of the two Olivias with smiles. It felt right, like maybe life did have a way of coming full circle after all.
Lovie had rested fitfully, able to sleep for only a few hours before violent hacking coughs woke her. She was weak and exhausted by the struggle, so it stunned Cara when Lovie insisted that she oversee the return of the turtle eggs to the beach.
“I must,” she said softly.
“Mama, I can do it. You’ve trained me well.”
“It’s not an ordinary move,” she argued. “Everything must be done perfectly and it’s my responsibility.”
“But the coughing…You’re exhausted.”
“Caretta,” she said, and though her voice was little more than a harsh whisper, Cara heard the firmness underlying the use of her full name. “I want to do this.” Then her face softened and she said earnestly, “Do you understand?”
Her mother’s face was pale yet her eyes burned with intent. Cara nodded, then looked to Brett for support. They exchanged a pained look.
They ventured out along the sandy, inclined path to the beach. Brett half carried Lovie, while Cara carried the red bucket. Broken tree limbs, palm fronds and bits of trash littered the path and they walked at an agonizingly slow pace, not only for Lovie’s sake but also so the eggs would not be jarred. When they finally reached the beach they stood in the soft sand in a collective silence, stunned by how badly the dunes had been battered and the beach reconfigured by the power of the storm. The tide was going out. The glistening wet sand of Breach Inlet stretched farther out than Cara had ever seen it before.
“I wonder how the other nests fared?” she asked in a worried tone.
“They probably won’t make it,” Lovie answered matter-of-factly. “This nest most likely won’t, either. Nature can be harsh. But we tried our best, didn’t we?”
“That we did.”
Lovie walked slowly along the beach in search of the best possible location for the nest. Her long rose-colored robe fluttered in the evening breeze, and with her mincing, hunched-over steps, Cara thought she looked like a petite Japanese geisha. Lovie stood for a long while in front of a small, washed-out dune.
Cara came to her side. “Mama?”
“My dune is gone,” Lovie said sadly, her lower lip trembling.
Cara surveyed the property that lay in front of their beach house. The high dune that had once been a place of refuge for her mother and Russell had been severely flattened. She put her arm around her mother’s shoulders. There was so little left of her. She was being whittled away as surely as her dune.
“You don’t need the dune anymore.
Remember what you told me? The magic is what you carry with you in your heart.”
Lovie turned to look at her daughter and Cara saw hope shining in her eyes.
“You’re right. How silly of me to have forgotten.”
Cara held back her hair and looked across the windswept, reconfigured shoreline searching for a safe haven for the eggs. “I dunno. Where do you think we should put the nest?”
Lovie looked at the dune again and half smiled. “It’s serendipity. My dune was always too high and steep for a nest. But now it’s really quite perfect. It’s far enough back and the mound slants nicely toward the sea. This is the spot.”
Lovie swayed with fatigue as she oversaw the efforts. Under her watchful eye, Cara and Brett dug a new egg chamber to the same depth, size and shape of the original. One by one they carefully transferred the eggs into the chamber, and after all the eggs were settled, Cara covered them, then gently patted and smoothed the sand with her palm. She marked the site with stakes but Lovie stepped forward to place the orange nesting sign on her final nest.
Straightening again, Lovie suffered a long spell of coughing that racked her frail body and left her gasping for air. Cara and Brett could only stand beside her, helpless, holding her frail body while waiting for the spasm to pass.
Cara couldn’t bear to see her mother suffer so. She seemed to be drowning inside her own body. Lifting her chin, Cara looked out to the sea with anguished eyes and called out in her heart to Russell, who she sensed was waiting in the swells.
What are you waiting for? The summer is over. Please, don’t let her suffer anymore. If you love her, come for her!
At last the coughing subsided and Lovie nearly collapsed against Brett’s chest, breathing in shallow gulps. “I’m sorry…but I don’t think I can make it back on my own.”
Cara put a hand to her trembling lips.
“I’d be honored,” Brett replied. With a gallant flourish, he lifted Lovie into his arms as if she weighed no more than a child. “Now, Miss Lovie,” he said with a broad grin as he began walking up the beach. “Did Cara ever tell you about the time she rode piggyback through the pluff mud?”
Lovie’s eyes sparkled with delight and Cara could see she was enjoying the novelty of being carried in the arms of such a handsome man.
“No!” she said in her hoarse voice. “But you will!”
And he did, all the way back to the beach house. Cara followed, dangling the empty red bucket, treasuring the sound of her mother’s soft laughter as it floated back on a breeze.
Sea turtles have few natural enemies. Sharks are known to attack but humans are their greatest predator. Coastal development and eroding beaches result in loss of nesting habitat. A significant number of deaths is caused by drownings in fishing and shrimp nets, injuries from boat propellers and floating debris in the ocean.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Isle of Palms was graced with crisp, after-storm breezes. All day the sound of hammering and chain saws echoed throughout the neighborhoods. Cars cruised down the streets and the music of children’s laughter, birds chirping and dogs barking returned to the island.
But by evening, the island once again fell quiet. At the beach house, lanterns and candles glowed yellow in the twilight, lending coziness to the home after days of chaos. Toy had temporarily moved to Flo’s house. Her second story was spared the flood’s damage and everyone agreed it was much better for both baby and mother to sleep on dry beds. Brett had gone to determine the damage to his boat, but promised to return the following morning with more supplies. The sweet calico cat was the beach house’s only guest and she sat curled on the cushion of a wicker chair.
So it was just Cara and Lovie again, two Rutledge women sitting outside on the porch, on their rockers, enjoying a sunset as they had so many nights before. They didn’t speak. They didn’t have to. Their held hands eloquently expressed everything that needed to be communicated between them.
Cara looked over at her mother. Lovie appeared peaceful as she sat with a wistful expression on her face and stared out at the sea and the pristine stretch of beach that she loved so dearly. Cara saw her eyes dancing and knew that memories were more alive in her mother’s mind now than the present. She knew, too, that they called to her. The tug and pull was palpable and Cara clung to her mother’s hand.
“Mama, it’s getting chilly. Would you like to go in?”
Lovie shook her head. Just a small movement, and a slight squeeze of the hand, but Cara understood.
“I’ll go get you another blanket, then. I’ll be right back.”
“Caretta?” Her voice was raspy.
“Yes, Mama?”
“You’re a good girl.”
Cara closed her eyes tightly and took a small breath. “Thank you, Mama.”
She wasn’t gone long. Just enough time to walk into her mother’s room and pull a cotton blanket off her bed. Then a quick stop in the kitchen to grab another bottle of water. She turned off the radio. They’d both heard enough talk about the hurricane.
When she came back to the porch Cara instinctively knew something had changed. She stopped at the threshold, held the blanket close to her chest and stared. Her mother sat still in her chair. Her Bible had fallen to the floor.
Cara was aware of the details. The chip of paint on the tip of the rocker, a dime-size hole in the screen, a page of the Bible lifting in the wind, the delicate curve of her mother’s hand half-open in her lap. She walked slowly over to kneel at her mother’s side. Her hand was still warm. The breeze was tugging a yellowed, crumpled piece of paper from her fingers. Cara picked it up and held it under the golden light of the lantern. It was a letter, the fine script slanted and elegant.
,!,!
My darling Olivia,
I don’t blame you in the least for not coming to meet me. I know better than most the complicated bonds that tie us to our responsibilities. Yes, I confess I had hoped that you would come. I waited at the beach house all night, masked by the dark like the thief I was, hoping against hope to steal you away.
I don’t doubt for a moment that you loved me. Love me still. But you have made your decision. As promised, I will respect it.
But if you should ever change your mind, or if circumstances occur where you should ever find your life untenable, I want you to have the freedom to leave—even if you should not choose to come to me.
You carry my love within you. A day will never dawn nor a sunset slip into the horizon when I will not think of you. I accept that the mind often dictates the heart. Yet I believe that the heart is the truer guide.
So, if in the course of time you should want to come to me, do not hesitate. Know that I will be waiting for you. You will always have my heart—my love.
Always,
Russell
Cara closed the letter and placed it in the crisp, thin pages of her mother’s Bible. Then, holding it close to her chest, she stood and looked out at the sea. A gray mist hovered over the water and from the harbor she heard the low, sonorous bellow of a foghorn, again and again, like the tolling of a bell.
“Go to him, Mama,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “You’re free! Don’t worry anymore about us. We’ll be fine. I’ll take care of Toy. I’ll look out for Palmer. And I’ll pass the torch to Linnea and Cooper. Go! Don’t let anyone or anything stand in the way of your heart’s desire.”
Mourners overflowed the church for the funeral of Olivia Rutledge, known to everyone who loved her as Lovie. Her family tree was extensive. While only some of the family gathered yearly for family reunions, at funerals they showed up in force. Brett and Toy remained close to Cara’s side while Flo and Miranda sat with the rest of the Turtle Team. Emmi and Tom Peterson had flown in from Atlanta with their two sons. Generations of turtle volunteers, young and old, came to pay their respects to the woman who had worked so tirelessly for their benefit. There were also scores of friends who had known Olivia since school days, as well as families that had been connected to
hers for many generations. Charleston could be a small town in this way.
After the funeral, Cara stood beside Julia at the rear of the church and accepted the condolences with sincerity. But she kept her eye on her brother. Palmer sat hunched over in the front pew, his eyes red and his face blotchy as he stared disbelievingly at the coffin. He looked like a man who’d just been hit by a bullet and hadn’t yet fallen.
He’d been this way since she’d called to tell him of their mother’s death. Expecting him to rant and rave about letting their mother get stuck on the island during the storm, she’d braced herself for scathing blame that she’d caused Lovie’s early death. Instead he’d been too stunned, bereft, shocked beyond speech.
As the last of the mourners left the church, Julia turned to Cara with panic in her eyes.
“Cara, I’m afraid he’ll make a scene at the interment. You’ve got to do something. He’s been crazy with grief. He’s frightening the children.”
“He wouldn’t be the first one to cry at a burial. And he hardly speaks to me.”
“You’re the only one he will speak to. He’s devastated, Cara. He’s your brother. He needs you. And I’ve simply got to get back to the house to prepare for the lunch. More food is arriving by the minute. I swear, I can feed the multitudes.”
Cara sighed but nodded her head. “All right, you go on with the children. I’ll go see what I can do.”
The scent of incense was heavy as she walked the long church aisle to her brother. The coffin had just been taken to the hearse for the final journey to the cemetery. Palmer, however, continued to stare at the vacant space between dozens of flower arrangements. Cara noted a gorgeous, expensive one that had been sent from her agency.
“Palmer?”
He didn’t move.