THE SKY HAD turned indigo, and most of the guests had left. This was Cara’s favorite time of a party, when the din died down and meaningful conversations could be held without interruption or straining to hear through the noise. She’d had such a lovely time, but now she could finally stop smiling at all the congratulations. Like a bride, her cheeks hurt.
Flo and Emmi would’ve made a caterer proud by how quickly they’d cleaned up and packed away the food. They’d sunk into the couch and kicked their shoes off, and were chatting, glasses in hand and heads tilted toward each other, no doubt sharing impressions from the party. The oohing and aahing over Hope had tuckered her out, so she was asleep upstairs. Cooper and Danny looked like Mutt and Jeff, playing a game in the TV room, shoulders hunched over controllers. She felt kindly toward Cooper for taking the youngster under his wing.
Over by the table Palmer was embroiled in a heated discussion with Ethan about the new baseline and setbacks of property for the islands. Palmer’s Sullivan’s Island home was caught in the crosshairs, which was going to make his insurance premiums soar. Ethan had his arms crossed and a beer in his fist, rocking on his heels as Palmer dominated the conversation, gesturing broadly.
Suddenly Palmer bellowed, “No, no way! You crazy, boy?”
Cara swung her head around to catch her brother reaching out to steady himself on the back of a nearby chair. From the corner of her eye, she saw Linnea look up sharply, her heavily lined eyes shining with embarrassment. Cara’s heart flinched with sympathy. How many times had she died a thousand deaths hearing her father’s drunken outbursts? She searched the room for Julia, who was usually good at cutting Palmer off before he got out of hand. But she was walking toward the kitchen with a tray filled with dirty glasses, apparently unconcerned.
Linnea turned back to Little Lovie and with forced cheerfulness engaged the young girl in conversation to distract her from Palmer’s behavior. Cara looked at Linnea with fresh eyes. Her niece had become a woman, she realized. As poised and pretty as her mother. But in truth, she was a ringer for her grandmother Lovie! Linnea had the same petite bone structure, blue eyes, and fair coloring. Cara smothered a laugh. The resemblance was all the more remarkable since Linnea was wearing a shirtwaist dress in the style of the 1950s. Her hair was in a ponytail pinned back with pink clips. It took confidence to pull off that look, Cara thought with admiration.
“For you.” Julia was at her elbow, handing her a cup of coffee.
“Why, thank you. It smells heavenly,” Cara said gratefully. Then, nodding toward Palmer, she said, “I think he could use a cup. Maybe two.”
Over the rim of her mug Cara saw Julia glance at her husband and her lips tighten in annoyance. “He wouldn’t drink it,” she said, and sipped the coffee herself.
“I hope you’re driving,” said Cara. “Or Cooper.”
“Cooper’s had too many beers. As usual, it’s up to the women.”
“Speaking of women, I’ve been meaning to ask you something all day. I’m in desperate need of a nanny. Do you know of anyone you can recommend? Or an agency?”
“A nanny? I thought you were staying home with the baby.”
“I am,” Cara replied a bit defensively. “But I’m trying to work from home too. I’m not getting much done with Hope underfoot. She just wants my attention all the time.”
“I remember those days,” Julia said wistfully. “The best days. Before you know it, they don’t care about your attention at all. Cara, honey, are you sure you want to work? This time is precious. It goes by so fast.”
Julia had had the luxury of staying home with her children without having to worry about supporting them. She was oblivious to how tender a subject it was for a woman who had only herself to depend on.
“I don’t have a husband,” Cara said. She couldn’t help the sting that came out with that painful statement. “I have to provide for us.”
Julia looked a bit nonplussed. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know you didn’t,” Cara said, putting an end to this uncomfortable topic.
“Cara, I’m so proud of you. I’m not sure I would be so brave as to adopt a child on my own.”
Cara appreciated her sister-in-law’s support and tried to explain. “The problem is, I quit my job so I could come home and raise my child myself. To be near my family and to provide a loving network. In order to do that, I’m trying to get my fledgling consulting business off the ground so I can stay home with Hope.” She exhaled. “But I still have to get work done. And that’s not going to happen if I don’t get childcare.”
“Have you looked into day care?”
“What’s the point of staying home if she’s not there, though?” Cara shook her head, frustration pitching her voice a little louder: “I just need a good babysitter.”
“How much babysitting do you need? A couple of hours here and there? Or something regular?”
“Regular,” Cara replied. “As many hours as I can get.”
“So, you’re looking for a nanny.”
Nanny, babysitter . . . Cara didn’t have a clue what the difference was, other than a nanny sounded more upscale than a babysitter.
“Sorry, I’m not sure I know the difference.”
Julia explained: “A babysitter takes care of your child for a few hours at an hourly rate. You call her when you want to go out to dinner or a movie. More short-term. A nanny, on the other hand, is a full-time caretaker who is more involved with the child, arranges schedules, helps with household chores, prepares meals. She’s almost part of the family.”
Cara said, “I guess what I need is a nanny, then.”
“Well,” Julia said with a grimace, “nannies can be quite expensive. All that time and personal investment . . . Perhaps you just need someone part-time?”
“I’m getting desperate. Where can I find someone to babysit Hope in my home for a few hours every day while I work?”
Across the room, Linnea raised her head toward them. “Aunt Cara, did you say you’re looking for a babysitter?”
Cara turned toward Linnea. “Yes. Do you know someone?”
Linnea rose to her feet. “ ’Scuse me a minute, precious,” she said to Little Lovie. She walked over to join Cara and Julia, who watched her daughter over her mug.
“I’m interested.”
Cara blinked, caught off guard. She couldn’t believe she could be so lucky. Still, this was her niece. She wanted Linnea to move forward with her own ambitions, especially at this point in her life.
“But, Linnea, you just graduated from college. Aren’t you looking for something in your field?”
“Yes, but I’ve been searching for weeks,” Linnea explained, a hint of her frustration leaking into her voice. “I’m afraid it’s going to take more time than I had expected. Frankly, I’d like to make some money while I’m looking.”
“I won’t be able to pay you a nanny’s full-time rate,” Cara said honestly. “I need someone who can sit for me during the day. I’m flexible with hours. A routine matters the most to me.” She looked at her niece with affection. “I doubt you’d be interested in what I could afford.”
Linnea was not deterred. “Does the job include room and board?”
“Why, yes. If you’d like. In fact, I’d prefer it.”
“Good. Because I’d really love to stay with you at the beach house this summer. I’m sure we could work out an arrangement we could both afford.”
Cara released a short laugh of surprise. “But are you sure?” she asked, not wanting to get her hopes up. “You’d be Hope’s nanny? Or babysitter, or whatever you wish to be called.”
Before Linnea had a chance to respond, Palmer was at her shoulder, his face scrunched up.
“What’s this I hear? Something about you being a nanny?”
“Yes, Daddy. Cara’s offering me a job!” Her tone implied she expected him to be pleased.
“Hell, girl, I didn’t send you to college for four years to be no nanny!”
Linn
ea turned away in a show of pique.
Palmer shot out his arm to grab her. “Don’t you walk away from me.”
Linnea jerked back her arm. “Let go!”
“Palmer,” Julia said in horror.
Palmer immediately opened his hand to release her and weaved back two steps, shamefaced.
“Daddy!” Linnea said accusingly, scanning her forearm for marks.
Cara stood in shock as a deep-rooted anger rose up within her and old memories resurfaced. She looked over to see Flo and Emmi watching from the sofa, equally shocked. Flo met Cara’s gaze and signaled her with a quick, stern shake of her head: Stay out of it. Cara clenched her cup and told herself this was between father and daughter. Besides, there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t make her look selfish about getting Linnea’s help.
She was relieved to hear Julia jump in.
“Oh, for pity’s sake, Palmer,” she said with more annoyance than Cara had ever heard from her in public before. “You don’t know your strength when you’ve been drinking. You’ve been after Linnea to get a job. Until she finds one, this makes sense. A job’s a job. And she won’t be lying around the house all summer.”
“If it’s any job she wants, she can work in the office with me,” Palmer said belligerently.
“I’m right here, you know,” Linnea said. “You don’t have to talk about me like I’m out of the room.” She turned to her father. “I don’t want to work in your office. I have no interest in the business and it’d be a waste of my time. I’d much rather be at the beach house with family and take care of Hope, and I’d be helping out Aunt Cara. Plus . . . Daddy, this might be the last time I get to stay at the beach house for a whole summer. You know I love it here. I used to stay here with Grandmama Lovie.”
Palmer shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “I swear, not only does she look like my mother, but she sounds like her too.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Cara asked gently.
At the mention of their mother, the steam of his fury was released in a long sigh. “I suppose not.”
Relieved at the sudden shift in mood, Cara gently bumped his shoulder with hers. “I miss her too.”
She almost told him she’d seen Lovie’s ghost, but held back. He’d been drinking. She didn’t want him to get all emotional. Instead she told him the simple truth.
“I’m in a pinch and I’d really be grateful to have Linnea for even a little while. If she gets any opportunity to work in her field, I’ll be the first to encourage her to take it.”
Palmer looked at her, and she saw in his eyes that her big brother once again wanted to help her.
She nudged his shoulder gently. “Think back to when you were twenty-two,” Cara said. “If you had a chance to work in a warehouse downtown or in a cottage at the beach for the summer, which would you choose? And before you answer, remember that I have strong memories of you riding the surf every day.” She pointed toward the ocean. “Right out there. Despite those fancy silk Tommy Bahama shirts you wear now, you’re a surfer boy through and through.” She bumped his shoulder again.
Palmer released a reluctant smile. “All right. But just for the summer. And you save your money, hear?” he told Linnea, pointing a finger her way. “I don’t want you cryin’ to me to help you out come fall.”
“I won’t,” she fired back, but she was smiling.
“So,” Cara said, turning to Linnea, deflecting another argument. “You’re my new nanny?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, grinning.
“When can you start?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
Chapter Six
The loggerhead uses her front flippers to clear a spot in the dry sand. Then she uses her hind flippers to dig a hole some twenty inches deep before laying 80 to 150 leathery eggs. When done, she refills the nest, then tosses sand to camouflage it from predators.
AS SOON AS she got home, Linnea went directly to her bedroom closet and pulled out a box tagged TURTLE TEAM from the shelf. She was filled with a renewed sense of purpose. The opportunity to be a nanny for Cara was a gift from the gods. It wasn’t the job she was looking for, but it was a job nonetheless that swept away the cloud of uncertainty that had hovered since graduation. With the major perk of being able to spend a summer at the beach house, the place of her best childhood memories.
She set the box on the bed, sweeping off a layer of dust from the lid. It’d been years since she’d opened this. She smiled at seeing her old turtle team T-shirts in assorted colors, along with a few pairs of indestructible nylon fishing pants. Her team uniform. Most of them she’d never be able to fit into again, but one or two of the later ones were promising. She pulled out a spring-green shirt, children’s size eight. She brought it to her nose and caught the faint sweet scent of soap. But in her mind she smelled the sea. . . .
“LINNEA, HURRY ALONG, child!”
“Coming, Grandmama Lovie!”
The rising sun created a tapestry of colors on the beach. This was eight-year-old Linnea’s first summer on the turtle team. Her parents were letting her stay weekends with Grandmama Lovie and Aunt Cara at the beach house. Time at the beach house was the best part of her week.
This morning she was bent at the knees watching Aunt Cara and Emmi at the turtle nest retrieving eggs and putting them into the red bucket. Lovie had decided that the nest was in a bad place for the eggs because it was below the high-tide line and the water would wash over the eggs, destroying them. So while the team opened the nest, Lovie was scouting for a good spot for the new nest. That’s where she was going now.
Linnea ran through the hot sand to catch up with her grandmother. She was the best teacher and knew the most because she’d been a turtle lady long before there were teams. Aunt Cara said she was the original turtle lady on Isle of Palms and Sullivan’s Island. Linnea was proud to be her granddaughter and felt privileged to be the first junior team member. She couldn’t touch the eggs or the hatchlings because she wasn’t permitted by the Department of Natural Resources, but the team gave her lots of other jobs.
She caught up with Lovie standing in front of a dune, her hands on her hips as she studied it. Lovie was so thin now Linnea didn’t think she weighed much more than she herself did. Lovie wore nylon pants and a long-sleeved TURTLE TEAM shirt, even though it was hot outdoors. On her head was a white floppy hat.
“Come take a look,” Lovie called to her, waving her closer.
When Linnea drew near, Lovie pointed to the dune.
“Here’s what I’m looking at. See that nice open patch of sand, the spot without any sea oats? That’s good because the roots won’t interfere with the nest. And it has a nice slope so the hatchlings have a clear path to the sea. Best of all, I know who lives in that house and she’ll keep the lights out. What do you think? Is this a good spot to put the nest?”
“Yes!”
Lovie’s face softened to a smile and her blue eyes shone with pride. “Good girl. Now, help your old grandmother down,” she said, reaching out for Linnea’s arm. With a bit of effort and a spell of coughing, Lovie got to her knees on the dune. “Run and fetch my bag, would you, sugar?”
She ran as fast as her feet would take her. Linnea treasured these private moments with Lovie. She just knew a lesson was coming.
Lovie rummaged through her canvas bag and pulled out a large shell, as big as her hand. The rounded shell was symmetrical and unbroken. A real treasure.
“This is a cockleshell,” Lovie told her. “And it makes the very best tool for digging a nest.” Lovie bent over and scooped out a shell full of sand. She continued this, one scoop after another, several inches down.
“That’s a good start,” Lovie said a bit winded, and sat back on her heels. “Now let’s see you try.”
“Me?” Linnea asked, incredulous. She hadn’t imagined she’d get to dig.
“Of course. You’re on the team, aren’t you? The trick is to turn your wrist slightly when you scoop. Think of the mama
turtle. She uses her back flippers. The left dips to scoop up about a cup of sand, then the right, over and over to about twenty inches deep. So we have a ways to go. Go on, then,” she said encouragingly.
The shell was a beauty and it fit Linnea’s palm perfectly. Linnea began to dig, scooping one shell-full after another until she was almost shoulder deep in the sand. By the time she’d finished, Aunt Cara and Emmi had arrived carrying the red bucket full of eggs.
“Looks good!” Cara exclaimed. “We’ve got one hundred twelve eggs.”
“Cara,” said Lovie, “you might want to round out the bottom of the nest to make room for the eggs. Linnea did a good job.”
“Here’s the shell,” Linnea said, offering it to Cara.
“Oh, no, that’s your shell,” Lovie told her. “I found that one especially for you.”
“We all have our own,” Cara said, and lifted hers for Linnea to see. “But that’s a good one you’ve got.”
While Cara bent over the nest to finish the digging, Linnea went to sit beside her grandmother. Her mother had explained to her that Lovie wasn’t well and she needed to rest. That this was Lovie’s final summer. Knowing that made each day with her special.
“Grandmama Lovie, why doesn’t the mother turtle come back to take care of her eggs till they hatch? Like a bird does?”
Lovie sighed and looked out over the sea. This morning the ocean was serene, rolling in and out in its predictable manner.
“Because a turtle is not a bird!” Lovie answered simply. “For a turtle, it is normal to lay several hundred eggs over the summer. She knows not all of the hatchlings will survive, but the few that do will keep the species alive. A bird has two or three chicks. A dolphin only one calf. Each animal has its own unique instinct for survival. Turtles are more than one hundred and eighty million years old, so that’s a long time to develop very strong instincts. The mother turtle knows that when her eggs hatch, her hatchlings will hear the loud voice of their instincts telling them to run to the sea as fast as they can. And when they reach the water they swim, swim, swim without stopping until they reach the Gulf Stream where there are big floats of seaweed called Sargassum. The hatchlings hide in there from other fish predators until they’re big enough to venture out into the ocean. Instinct tells them what to eat, where to go, who to run from.”
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