A little part of Cara’s self-esteem withered with her smile. She didn’t think she dressed differently or looked much older than the child’s mother across the playground. She was shocked that an innocent question could make her feel so insecure.
“No,” she replied. “I’m her mama.”
“Oh.” The little girl’s perplexed look quickly disappeared, her curiosity sated. When her mother called her name, Jessica took off running, calling, “Bye!”
Cara was relieved to see her go. The sweet child had suddenly become annoying. Cara chided herself for being sensitive. She had to face the fact that though she might feel like that thirty-year-old mother, she wasn’t thirty anymore. She looked again at Hope in the swing. Was she too old? she worried. Would her daughter ever look at her and wonder why her mother looked older than her friends’ mothers?
Hope was smiling gleefully, kicking her legs, demanding another push.
Cara couldn’t stop the smile that bloomed on her face. At least for now, Hope didn’t care if she was young or old. Perhaps years from now, when she was in school, she might wonder. Cara knew that the day would come when Hope would have many questions. Including who her birth mother was.
Cara gave Hope another push. She would deal with those questions later. For now, these precious moments were fleeting. She took a cleansing breath, and looked out across the park. A tall man was pushing a stroller toward them across the great expanse of grass. He was nattily dressed in dark jeans and a blue-and-white-checked shirt rolled up at the sleeves. Though he was youthful in appearance, his salt-and-pepper hair hinted he was either a grandfather or an older parent, like her. Except, she thought with chagrin, he probably had a younger wife . . . a trophy wife. She tried not to stare as he approached, but something about him seemed vaguely familiar. He was wearing aviator sunglasses, which made it harder to tell if she knew him. She absently gave Hope another push.
Then he looked her way. When their gazes met, she felt suddenly embarrassed for being caught staring. But then a wide grin of recognition stretched across his tanned face, and he picked up the pace. As he drew closer, Cara was stunned. Unless she was mistaken, he was Heather’s father, David Wyatt. She hadn’t seen him since that pelican release on Sullivan’s Island, was it three years ago? In a flash she recalled his thoughtfulness that difficult summer. He was a good father to Heather, and it appeared he was a good grandfather to Rory as well. And, she thought with a bemused smile, he was just as good-looking as she remembered.
She waved her hand in greeting. “Well, look who’s here!” she called out. “What are you doing in my sandbox?”
David laughed and called back, “This is our Wednesday morning hangout. Rory and I have a couple of good swings, toss back a bottle or two, then head for home.”
His voice was unusually pleasant and low. It was one of those small, telling details she sometimes pocketed away. David parked the stroller beside the swing set and removed his sunglasses. His rich brown eyes shone with warmth, and for the second time that day, Cara suddenly felt like an insecure teenager. He was even better-looking than she’d remembered. His thick head of dark gray and white hair sharply contrasted with his tanned skin and thick black brows. Cara felt a stirring of attraction she hadn’t felt in many years. Not since before Brett had died. She’d lost interest in other men after his death, and this first flush surprised her.
“Seriously,” he said. “It’s good to see you, Cara. Though I almost didn’t recognize you.” He touched his head. “Your hair’s shorter.”
Cara’s hand flew to her head. “Oh, that . . .” She raked her fingers through her dark hair, glad she’d decided to put a pair of small gold hoops in her ears at the last minute. “I needed a change.”
“It’s a nice change,” David said. Then he glanced over at Hope. “Speaking of change, Heather told me you have a daughter. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“She’s a beauty.”
Cara was relieved to have an excuse to bring her attention back to Hope. “She is. And congratulations to you too,” she added, indicating Rory. “It seems both of our lives have changed since we last saw each other.”
His grin widened. “Boy, have they.”
“Rory is about the same age as Hope, right?”
“He’s a little over a year. Fourteen months.”
“Hope is coming up on her first birthday on the eighteenth. I’m still waiting for her to take her first steps.”
“Rory took off before he hit a year,” David said proudly. “We have to keep an eye on him. He’s suddenly into everything.”
She allowed him his boasting rights. It was surprisingly pleasant to be chatting about the children instead of politics or making awkward chitchat. In fact, David was surprisingly easy to talk to. She remembered that about him, how he readily made anyone feel at ease. He lifted Rory from the stroller, and Cara noticed the strong lines of his physique. He had the trim body of a man who exercised regularly. He settled Rory in the second baby swing and came around to stand beside Cara. They pushed the children side by side at a companionable pace.
“How long are you here for?” she asked, thinking she’d like to invite him to dinner, along with Heather and Bo, of course.
He tilted his head, and his eyes glimmered with amusement. “I live here now. Hadn’t you heard?”
“No!” she replied, her jaw slipping open.
“I retired from my law practice, sold my house, and moved here. Bought a house on Dewees. In fact, the kids live with me now.” He laughed.
“Really?” Cara was astonished. He’d retired? She didn’t think David was even sixty. Plus, she couldn’t imagine Heather living in the same house as Natalie. Heather despised his second wife, and the feeling was mutual. “Dewees is so isolated. I can understand Heather moving there. And Bo. Even you. But Natalie didn’t strike me as the outdoorsy, nature-loving type.”
His smile fell, and he shook his head. “She wasn’t. Turned out she wasn’t my type, either. We’re divorced.”
Cara shot an involuntary glance at his ring finger. The gold wedding band was no longer there.
She smiled ruefully. “Well, this certainly is a day for catching up.” She paused to digest the information, using the time to give Hope another gentle push. “Frankly, I’m amazed that choice bit of gossip hadn’t reached me.” She gave another push. “Though I have to say, I’m not surprised.”
David skipped a beat. “Apparently no one was. Except me. No fool like an old fool and all that.”
“Not so old.”
He slanted her a glance of appreciation.
“Besides,” Cara added, “Natalie was a clever manipulator.”
“She didn’t fool you.”
Cara shrugged lightly. “I’m not easily fooled. Plus, I was on Team Heather.”
“You were,” he said as his gaze swept over her. “I always appreciated that. She blossomed under your care.”
“I can’t take any credit for that. Heather worked hard for her success. Art is a tough business to make a mark in. But don’t forget, she took good care of me too. Those were some dark days.” His expression told her he remembered. “Heather’s a remarkable young woman. You must be very proud.”
“She gave me Rory. She can do no wrong.”
“How do you like living on Dewees? Quite a change from a city like Charlotte.”
“I love it. I’ve finally got the time to do things like learn the names of birds and plants. I’ve become quite well versed on alligators too.” He laughed. “The folks on Dewees are genuine. And quite social. We come out for the occasional party or town event. But all of us like our privacy and respect that. And my house is an architectural gem. The previous owners were looking to sell just as I started looking. I fell in love at first sight. Had to have it. And it’s Heather’s favorite house on the island, so that was another big selling point. I bought the furniture too, so it was an easy move. You’ll have to come see it.”
“I’d love to.” She could
imagine him slipping into a new house, a new lifestyle, with ease. Little seemed to faze this man.
His face was handsome, but not in a pretty way. More interesting, with his deep-set eyes, thick brows, and high, bold cheekbones. His features and height gave the impression of strength. She imagined he was formidable in the courtroom.
“Do you miss practicing law?”
He shook his head. “Not at all.”
“Still, a bit of a culture shock living on an island without shops or restaurants, or cars, for that matter?”
“Yes,” he agreed. “It was at the beginning.”
“What do you do to fill your days? You were so busy in Charlotte.”
“I’m busier than ever. Bo’s in high demand on the island, and his carpentry business off-island has him out a lot. Heather’s receiving a lot of commissions for paintings. Plus, she’s preparing for her first show. So, with the two of them in the thick of their careers . . .” He shrugged. “I sort of slid into taking care of Rory. That boy keeps me busy.”
“You’re a manny!” exclaimed Cara.
His brows rose. “A what?”
“A male nanny. A manny,” she explained.
A slight flush colored his tan cheeks as a crooked smile slid onto his face. He shifted his gaze to his grandson. “Yeah, I guess that’s my new job title. Long hours, no pay, but lots of benefits.”
She found his confidence enormously attractive.
“How about you?” he asked, shifting the spotlight. “Are you a full-time mom these days? Or working?”
Long answer or short answer? she wondered. She could tell Hope’s enthusiasm was waning, so opted for the short answer. “I’m the sole provider, so being a full-time mom isn’t an option. I’m doing consult work now and seeing how that turns out. I lucked out last week. My niece is coming to live with me this summer to help me out with Hope. I still want to be hands-on, but I can’t focus on my work when she’s tugging at me. I’m still searching for a balance.”
“Heather still worries about being away from Rory too much, but since she has dear old Dad taking care of him, she’s feeling less guilt. I hope . . .”
“I’m told mother guilt is a universal emotion.”
“Neither of you should feel guilt. As for Heather, this is her moment. In the art world, they don’t come often. She has to take it. And we get along just fine, don’t we, pal?” he asked, rubbing his fingers through Rory’s blond hair.
Hope started whining in the swing, indicating she’d had her fill of this ride.
“That’s my cue.” Cara slowed the swing and lifted Hope into her arms. She smoothed a dark curl from Hope’s forehead, then touched the spot with her lips. “Okay, baby,” she crooned. “Mama’s taking you home.”
David moved closer and bent to look into Hope’s face. “I know she’s adopted,” he said, “but she’s your spitting image. Especially her eyes.”
Cara could never hear that compliment enough. “I’m flattered to be compared to a baby. My ego took a solid hit today. Before you got here, a little girl asked me if I was Hope’s grandma.”
“Ouch!” David laughed. “No offense to the little girl, but she’s crazy. You don’t look like anyone’s grandmother.” He snorted and said in an offhand manner, “Hardly.”
“My self-esteem has been reassured,” she told him. She couldn’t deny the current flowing between them. Tall, chiseled features, intelligent—he was her type. Still, she didn’t feel comfortable getting flirtatious with David. He was Heather’s dad, after all. She moved Hope to her other hip. “And now, I must go. My boss is getting hungry.”
“Let me help you,” David said, and went to fetch the stroller. He held it steady while Cara put Hope back inside. When she was settled, David stepped back and said, “I was serious about having you come see the house.”
When she turned to face him, he asked, “When can you come?”
Cara was nonplussed by the suddenness of the invitation. “To Dewees?”
“That’s where the house is,” he said.
“I have Hope.”
“And I have Rory.” He smiled that easy smile that lowered the tension. “We’ll make it a playdate.”
She had to laugh. That was a new one. She’d told herself she wasn’t going to flirt, but he was on a full-court press. Plus, a playdate seemed harmless.
“A playdate sounds perfect.”
“Great. When? Tomorrow?”
“Are you always this pushy?”
“Only when it matters.”
Cara took a breath. “Let’s make it the day after tomorrow. Hope has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow, and she’ll be cranky after her shots.”
“Friday it is, then. I’ll put your name on the list as my guest for the nine o’clock ferry and meet you at the dock with the golf cart.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
For a moment, neither spoke. There didn’t seem to be anything left to say.
She turned away and called out, “Bye, then!”
He raised his hand in a wave. “See you.”
Pushing the stroller, Cara began the long trek across the playground to the parking lot. She knew if she turned to look back, she’d see David hawking her every step.
Chapter Eight
Her nest laid, the loggerhead makes the long trek back to the sea. She will never return to the nest. A reptile, the turtle follows the biological model called predator glut, overfeeding the predators so a few offspring survive, ensuring the species, too, survives. It is estimated only one in one thousand hatchlings will live to maturity.
CARA HAD ALWAYS believed the lowcountry showed itself best from the water. The Dewees Island ferry slowly motored down the narrow inlet from its dock on Isle of Palms, past impressive mansions with long docks that stretched out to the water and the Isle of Palms Marina with its fleet of Coastal Ecotours boats, small pleasure boats, and ocean-fit yachts.
Cara sat with Hope on her lap inside the ferry on a horseshoe-shaped, padded bench. Beside her was an older woman carrying an insulated bag of groceries and a bouquet of spring flowers, obviously an island resident. She chatted amiably with the captain. Across from her a man in an appliance repair uniform sat checking his phone, oblivious to the beauty outside his window. Two others in outdoor work clothes looked out the windows and seemed to be enjoying the change from reaching a job via highway traffic to a boat trip along the Intracoastal Waterway.
It was an exceptionally beautiful day. Once out of the no-wake zone, the captain opened the throttle, and the engines roared. The windows of the ferry were open, and salty breezes ruffled Cara’s hair and caressed her cheeks as the boat picked up speed. Hope’s eyes widened at the noise, but she sat quietly and stared out the window as they raced across the crystalline water. The ferry wound its way through the Intracoastal Waterway, banked on either side by lush, spiky grass that stretched out for acres. Cara spied a long line of pelicans flying so low in formation that they seemed to skim the tall grass. She caught sight of other birds as they flew over the salt marsh but only recognized the oystercatcher with its flashy black and white coloring and bright red bill. Heather, she knew, would be able to name them all and tell her a bit about each. Cara turned her gaze to the white ruffled wake of the boat, hoping she might catch sight of a dolphin riding the waves.
It felt like she was traveling to another world. What would it be like, she wondered, to cut myself off from the mainland and be accessible only by boat? She imagined life’s stresses would diminish. Or would new stressors be added? She could see Heather and Bo being perfectly suited to such a lifestyle. They appreciated a simpler life, apart from the crowds. Cara, on the other hand, was accustomed to the instant gratification of convenience. She’d lived much of her adult life in Chicago, where everything she needed was at her fingertips. Moving to Isle of Palms had been a significant slowing down for her. Could I go one step further and be connected to shops only by a boat ride? Could she raise a child there? Her thoughts turned to David. He was su
ch a vibrant man, accustomed to fast-paced city living. How did he do it?
She’d have her answer soon, she thought as the boat slowed down. She turned to look out the window and saw they were approaching a small island. A long wooden dock led to a wide covered deck with a large green sign that read: DEWEES ISLAND, S.C. WELCOME.
The mighty engines lowered to a growl and a whiff of diesel permeated the cabin as the captain guided the boat into position beside the dock. Cara watched the deckhand toss ropes ashore, then nimbly jump from the boat to the dock to tie them to the pilings. Done, he jumped back aboard the boat to lower the landing platform. Around her the passengers were on their feet, queuing at the door. Cara joined them, grabbing her bag and firming her grip on Hope.
Cara felt a welcome, bracing gust of sea air that caused the ferry to rock. She grabbed hold of the railing as overhead a laughing gull cried out its mocking call. Cara’s mama used to call her a laughing gull when she was young because of her dark cap of hair and her loud voice. She chuckled at the memory and looked at Hope.
“What kind of bird are you?” she asked. Considering the child’s wide-eyed curiosity and quiet, observant manner, Cara said, “Not a gull, that’s for sure.” She kissed Hope’s forehead. “Something sweet. We’ll have to ask Aunt Heather for suggestions.”
She stepped out onto the long ramp from the boat to the dock, where a cluster of people waited. She immediately spotted one man whose salt-and-pepper head rose taller than the rest. He wore sunglasses and a pale-blue fishing shirt. And in his arms he carried a baby. He raised a bronzed arm in an arc of welcome and called her name. Two women near him turned toward the passengers, curious to see who he was calling. Perhaps they find him attractive too, she thought with a slight smile.
Cara smiled wide in acknowledgment. David walked around the two women and met her as she reached the top of the landing.
“David Wyatt,” Cara said warmly. “And Rory! How nice of you to meet us.”
“Of course. Have to teach my boy manners. Let me carry that,” he said, taking her bag with his free arm. “Your ride is right this way.” He guided her through the covered dock and past the two women, who scrutinized her with brazen curiosity.
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