The Color of Light

by White, Karen

  She didn’t smile as he thought she would, but gazed somberly back at him. “Is it?”

  He shrugged and looked away. “Don’t know for sure. Can’t say I’ve ever been baptized.” He moved over to where Gracie was pounding on an oyster, trying to set it free. His back was to Jillian, but every pore on his skin felt her looking at him.

  He looked at Grace’s half-full bucket. “You’ve done real good for a first-timer, kid.” He pulled on one of her braids, and she smiled up at him. “What do you say we call it a day and head back?”

  Without complaint, she handed over her mallet and bucket, but frowned as she turned to her mother. “Jilly-bean said we might see a dolphin.”

  He glanced over at Jillian. Her face glowed with sweat and her shorts and shirt were splattered with water and hugging her body. He almost groaned, but remembered the child standing beside him.

  Jillian tossed her mallet into her bucket and waded over to them. “I said we might, Gracie. We’d have to go further out, and Linc’s been kind enough to take us this far.”

  Linc watched their matching expressions of disappointment and knew he’d lose any argument he’d have with himself about why he should go back home. There was something so childlike inside the woman, a child prone to disappointment but who never gave up hope. He had recognized it in the girl she’d been, and was still amazed by it in the woman.

  With a deep sigh, he looked from face to face. He did have an appointment with the construction supervisor, but the man could wait. Taking both buckets, he motioned for them to get inside the boat. “Come on. I know just the place—it’s not too far. I can usually spot one or two.”

  Jillian restrained herself from jumping up and clapping as Linc loaded everyone onto the boat. Grace sat next to her again and laid her head on Jillian’s lap, yawning loudly. Sleepily, she said, “I really want to see a dolphin.”

  Jillian placed a hand on her cheek. “We’ll find one. You look really worn out. Why don’t you go on to sleep now, and I’ll wake you if we spot any dolphins.”

  Gracie nodded slowly, yawned again, and immediately fell asleep.

  Linc kept the motor on low as he maneuvered his way out of the shallow water. Jillian watched as the muscles rippled under his shirt, his forearms tanned and strong as they rested on the steering wheel. This was more of the boy she remembered, the boy who knew every inch of the island, every nuance of the shifting tides. He was more a part of the island than she was, and she wondered if that was the bond she felt between them. This was the place that called her home, and she felt his presence pulling at her as much as an outgoing tide pulls at the shoreline.

  She held her hand over her eyes to block the sun as she faced him. “Thanks for doing this. I know you’ve got things to do, and I really appreciate it.” He nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t face her. She stared at his broad back and saw him shift his shoulders, as if physically moving a barrier between them. She’d expected it. The warm afternoon spent together had affected her in ways she hadn’t thought possible, and she didn’t doubt that it had done the same to him. She stared out over the boat and waited for whatever words he thought would rebuild the old barriers.

  Gently turning the boat toward open water, he asked, “Did you invite your ex-husband to come see his new son? Or did you just leave a message on his answering machine with all the pertinent details?”

  She’d expected it, but his question caught her off guard. She didn’t answer, but continued to stare into the briny water, willing a dolphin near the surface. Linc put the boat into high gear, drowning out all possibility of conversation as they moved along the surface of the water, watching the tide come in, blurring the edges of the marsh.

  When they reached open water, he idled the engine. “You don’t want him here, do you?”

  After a moment, Jillian shook her head. “No. Not really.” She met his eyes. “I know this is stupid, but I’ve always felt the island was my own special place. I think that’s why I never suggested we come here when we were married.” She shrugged. “When I called Rick last week, he said he wanted to come see Gracie and the baby and was going to make arrangements for a quick trip at the end of the month. He’s supposed to be in Singapore until next Christmas, and I thought that then maybe I could handle seeing him—and his new wife.” She stared out at the shoreline where a snowy egret stood silently waiting. “I’m just not sure about now.”

  “Do you have custody of both children?”

  She nodded. “We share custody—for now, anyway. He said we’d talk about it again once the baby was born, after I figured out what it was like with two children.” She smoothed her hand against her now-flat stomach. “During the divorce negotiations, he asked me if I wanted him to take them. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it for a minute.” She looked at him, expecting to find condemnation, but found none, and it gave her the courage to go on. “But I knew in my heart that they are meant to be mine. I couldn’t fail at this one thing.” She sensed the boat rock beneath her, and she felt the truth of it settle on her. Looking up at him, she didn’t bother to wonder why she was confessing something to Linc that she had only just admitted to herself. “I have no idea what I’m doing, and sometimes I feel like I’m floundering in the surf with my hands tied behind my back. But I can’t fail. Because that would mean I’m just like my mother.” Her last words were whispered and she looked away, toward the water.

  “It’s just that . . . I needed to be on my own. With Grace—and the new baby. I needed to know that I could do this on my own.” She stuck her hands toward the water, the sun’s bright signature marking the surface. “I never thought I could.”

  His gray eyes reflected the late afternoon sky. “And now?”

  She smiled. “And now, well, I’m still not sure. But I try. Martha Weber told me that most of the time all I have to do is just show up, and I think she’s right. For the rest, I just close my eyes and take the next step and hope for the best. So far I haven’t fallen into any deep pits. Yet.”

  His eyes held a light she didn’t recognize, and something flipped in her chest. His words were soft. “Don’t sell yourself short. It takes a lot of courage to pick up and start over.”

  “Like you did?”

  All softness faded from his face. “I didn’t have a choice. Your father made sure of that.”

  She looked down at her sleeping daughter and brushed away the wisps of blond hair that stuck to the sweat on her cheek. Maybe it was being on her beloved island again, in the water that coursed around it, that suddenly made her see the truth so clearly. She met his gaze and stuck out her chin. “I am not responsible for his sins. I wasn’t then, and I’m not now.” She took a breath, finding strength in the water around her. “Sometimes you just have to let go of the past and live on hope. It’s a thin meal, but it gets you by. And someday, bang, it’s better. It’s like wishing on dolphins: You know they’re out there, and if you wait long enough, they’ll come.”

  Just then, a splash of movement jerked her attention to behind Linc’s shoulders. Dolphins. At least one—probably more. “Over there!” She pointed, and Linc started the engine, moving it closer to the spot before idling the engine once more. The distinctive smooth gray back of a dolphin appeared for a moment above the surface and then was gone.

  She shook her daughter’s shoulder. “Wake up, Gracie. We see a dolphin!”

  Slowly, the little girl opened her eyes and blinked once before the words seemed to sink in. She bounded out of her mother’s lap and leaned over the side of the boat. “Where?”

  Jillian pointed to a spot about twenty feet from the boat. “We just saw the dorsal fin of one somewhere out there. Just keep looking and you might see him come up again.”

  Everything was silent except the slapping of the water against the side of the boat. Suddenly, not five feet away, Jillian spotted a churning of the water. She pressed her hand into Grace’s shoulder, showing her where to look.

  And then, as if riding the
waves of a prayer, three dolphins leapt from the water, close enough that Jillian could see the wide dark eye of the one in front looking into hers for a brief moment before they disappeared beneath the surface again, its grin seeming to tell her I heard. I listened.

  Jillian stood and moved to stand next to her daughter, staring out into the now quiet water, the disturbed surface the only clue as to what had just happened. Grace laid her hand on Jillian’s and pressed. Quietly, she said, “Can you do it again?”

  Jillian looked back at the rippling water teeming with forms of life too small to see but enough to change the color of light as it trickled from the surface, altering it so that it was almost unrecognizable by the time it reached the water’s depths. For a moment, Jillian saw it all clearly, could see the three dolphins below the surface like some miracle waiting to break forth, if only one was strong enough to ask.

  “Yes,” she answered. “I can.”

  Before she had finished speaking, the dolphins leapt from the water again, closer this time and spraying them with water, and Jillian could taste the salt on her lips.

  Gracie threw her arms around Jillian. “Thank you, Jilly-bean. Oh, thank you!”

  Jillian sat down with a thud, the effort of her wanting making her weak. She felt the warm, soft body of her daughter next to her, and she knew deep down that somehow she had done something very right.

  CHAPTER 15

  SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD JILLIAN FACED GRANDMA PARRISH OVER THE kitchen table, biting her lower lip hard enough to make it bleed. She watched as her grandmother dipped her fork into the fried peach pie and brought it up to her mouth. Jillian scratched her nose as she waited, belatedly remembering that her hands were covered in flour.

  Her grandmother, chewing slowly, closed her eyes for a long moment. Finally, her eyes popped back open and she smiled broadly. “You have truly outdone yourself, dear. This is simply perfect.”

  Leaning forward and still frowning, Jillian said, “You mean the peaches aren’t too tart?”

  “No—they’re sweet with just the right balance between too tender and too firm.”

  Still not convinced, Jillian pressed on. “The crust isn’t too tough? I was wondering if it was too brown on the edges because I’d left it in the oven longer than I should have.”

  Taking another bite, her grandmother shook her head. “Oh, no—it’s perfectly flaky. Cuts like a hot knife through butter.”

  “But what about . . . ?” Jillian was cut off by her grandmother’s firm hold on her wrist. Warm brown eyes stared back at her. “It’s perfect, Jilly, and you know it. Don’t ever let me see you second-guess yourself.” She put her fork down and slid the plate to the side before taking both of Jillian’s hands in her own. “I know there’re reasons why you lack confidence in yourself.” She squeezed her hands tighter. “But that’s all nonsense.”

  Grandma Parrish stood, seemingly agitated as she began straightening the kitchen counter, placing measuring spoons and cutting boards in the sink. She stuck a stick of butter in the refrigerator, then closed it slowly, her hand resting on the handle. “I can’t make excuses for your parents—it’s not my job and it’s not what they want, anyway.”

  Jillian regarded her grandmother quietly for a moment, and then blurted out the words that had been boiling in her for more than a month. “I think my daddy has another girlfriend. He and Mama have been fighting a lot about it since Christmas. I think they might get a divorce.”

  Grandma Parrish squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Pay no mind, Jilly. Your daddy, well, he loves your mama. But he’s got a big weakness where women are concerned. He was such a good-looking boy that he just kind of got used to women throwing themselves at him.” She came and stood by Jillian’s side and put her hand on her head. “They’ll work it out—they always have, one way or another.”

  Jillian remained silent, wondering if divorcing might be the best thing for all of them.

  Her grandmother turned back to the sink. “I do know that your father loves you in his own way. He doesn’t know how to show you and he’s too distracted with other things to figure it out. And your mother.” Grandma Parrish sighed, straightened a towel on the oven handle that already hung perfectly straight. “Well, maybe one day they’ll tell you the story.” She turned around and looked Jillian in the eye. “She wasn’t ready for motherhood and found herself with you before she could prepare herself. Always remember that—her indifference has nothing to do with you. It’s all inside of her.”

  Jillian felt a prickle of uneasiness tiptoe across the back of her neck. She’d never seen her grandmother so troubled before, her movements jerky, her words angry and clipped. She stood and approached her grandmother.

  “Grandma, what story? What are you talking about?”

  Her grandmother faced her and shook her head. “It’s not important, Jilly. But you are. And I want you to remember something. You are strong and beautiful and talented. You’re bound to make mistakes, make the wrong choices and say the occasional stupid thing—you’re only human. But never doubt the truth of those three things.” Her grandmother leaned over to kiss Jillian on each cheek, then stared her in the eyes. “Most importantly, never forget that no matter how bad things look, it always gets better. All you need to do is have a little bit of hope.”

  Slowly, her grandmother straightened, then took her dirty dishes to the sink and began to wash them. Jillian felt giddy, almost lightheaded. She’d always known how her grandmother felt about her, although she’d never before expressed it in words. Jillian looked down at the perfect pie she had created, not seeing the hours, tears and sweat that she had put into it. Instead, all she saw was the way a pie was supposed to be.

  Jillian stuck her finger into the flaky crust and brought it up to her mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, she said, “This is really good.”

  Her grandmother ran the water in the sink. “Of course it is. Now get over here and help me clean up this mess.”

  Taking another fingerful of pie, Jillian joined her grandmother by the sink. She grabbed a dish towel and began to dry the clean dishes in the strainer. “When we’re done here, I’ll bring some pie over to the Millses’. Lauren adores fried peach pie.”

  “They’re not home. Mr. and Mrs. Mills left for Charleston this morning to spend the day antiquing, and I saw Lauren about an hour ago outside. She said she was heading to Janie Mulligan’s with one of Mrs. Mills’ casseroles to take for supper. Don’t imagine she’d be back yet.”

  Jillian dried in silence for a moment, wondering why Lauren hadn’t invited her to tag along. She folded the towel and put it on top of the dishes. “I’m done. I think I’ll just go to Janie’s and meet Lauren there. My parents are coming next week to take me back, and I don’t think I’ve spent all that much time with her.”

  Her grandmother turned off the faucet and stood there without moving, her hand gripped tightly on the knob. She didn’t say anything but turned to face Jillian, her eyes searching Jillian’s with confusion.

  Jillian met her gaze, feeling a soft swell of panic. “Are you all right, Grandma?”

  Her grandmother continued to stare at her for a long moment without saying anything. She broke her gaze and looked around her, blinking rapidly as if seeing her surroundings for the first time. Slowly, her grip loosened on the knob and she took two deep breaths. Leaning against the sink she said, “I’m sorry. I was just having one of my . . . moments. I . . . I just sort of forgot where I was for a bit.” She tried to smile but faltered. “I guess it’s just part of getting old.”

  Worried at how pale and fragile her grandmother suddenly seemed to be, Jillian led her back to the table and made her sit down. Grasping each hand in her own, just like her grandmother had done for her earlier, Jillian faced her across the table. “Should I call the doctor?”

  Grandma Parrish shook her head, her attention focused on the gold wedding band on her left hand. Jillian had never seen her grandmother’s hand without the ring. It was as much a part of her as her
white hair and purposeful stride.

  Slowly, Grandma Parrish slid the ring off her finger, tugging on it as it snagged on her knuckle before sliding it all the way off. She held it for a moment between her thumb and forefinger, her short nails devoid of polish, sitting atop capable and loving hands. With a shaking smile, she handed it to Jillian. “I want you to have this.”

  Almost afraid to touch it, Jillian kept her hands down and shook her head. “No, Grandma. It’s yours—you should be wearing it.”

  Her grandmother pressed it into her hand. “No. I want to make sure I give this to you now—when I’m still thinking clearly enough to remember. It’s important to me.”

  Jillian swallowed, then nodded. “All right. Thank you.” She slid the ring onto the fourth finger of her right hand. “It fits.”

  “I thought it would.” She spread her fingers out in the air between them. “We have the same hands.”

  Jillian blinked hard, trying to hide the tears from her grandmother. She held her right hand out in front of her, fingers spread like a young bride. Grandma Parrish linked her fingers through Jillian’s and smiled. “I want you to think of me whenever you see this ring, you hear? It’s like those stars you stare at every night—they’re to remind you that you’re never alone.”

  Jillian gave up trying to hide her tears. “You’re talking like you’re going to die soon.”

  Grandma Parrish squeezed Jillian’s fingers tightly before letting go. Handing Jillian a tissue from her apron pocket, she said, “No. I’m not planning to, anyway.” She patted Jillian’s cheek, then stood and wiped her hands on her apron. “You go on to Janie’s and see if you can’t catch up with Lauren.”

  Pushing back her own chair, she moved over to her grandmother and kissed her on the cheek, making Grandma Parrish smile with surprise. As Jillian turned to go, her grandmother grabbed her hand one more time. “Don’t forget, Jilly.”

  “I won’t. Promise.” She turned and left, forgetting to pick up her shoes on the porch before she headed up the driveway. As she made her way to Janie Mulligan’s house, she kept her head down, looking for the softest spots to place her bare feet, noticing not for the first time how in the midst of all the broken shells on the path, a few had managed to remain whole.