David leaned over the table to set his half-eaten cake on the plate. “Well, you know how we’ve talked about taking the kids on my boat?”
Cara nodded slowly. “Yes,” she said guardedly. “I thought we’d decided they were too young.”
“Right,” David replied readily. “So instead, I got us tickets on a boat tour. There’s a company right on the island I heard good things about.” He pulled tickets out of his shirt pocket and held them up in the air. “Coastal Ecotour.”
Cara felt her stomach fall along with her face and stared back at David, speechless.
Seeing her reaction, his thick brows drew together in concern. “Don’t worry. It’s large and only goes out on the Intracoastal Waterway. It’s very smooth. Perfect for the children. I checked.”
Cara looked to Emmi for support. She stood silent with her fingertips pressed against her lips. Cara looked again at David and swallowed hard. “You didn’t know?”
“Know what?”
“My late husband. Brett. He owned Coastal Ecotour. That was our company.”
David’s face paled. “Oh, Cara, I’m sorry. I had no idea. Forget I suggested it. I’ll give these tickets away. We can go—”
“No, don’t do that,” she interrupted, shaking her head. She took a breath, considering her words carefully. “No. You know what? I should go. To Capers Island. I’ve been meaning to go for years. And I want to take Hope. It’s a very special place with a lot of beautiful memories.”
Emmi drew closer and put her hand on Cara’s arm. “But only when you’re ready.”
“Right,” David agreed. “When you’re ready.”
“I am ready,” Cara said with a shaky smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be. And honestly . . .” She looked into David’s dark brown eyes. She felt safe in the depth of concern she saw there. “I’d like to have you with me when I go.”
CARA FELT HER stomach clenching during the slow drive north on Palm Boulevard toward the Isle of Palms Marina. The large, open gravel parking lot was half-filled with parked cars and boat trailers. David hunted for a spot with shade, and finding none open, opted for a spot close to the water. Once he’d parked, he leaped from the car to help Cara from the passenger seat.
“I’m fine,” she said with a soft laugh. He was being exceedingly solicitous. “My heart hurts, but the rest of me is good. Let’s get the kiddies.”
She heard every crunch of gravel like a drum pounding in her ears as they walked with the children toward the dock. A new sign, slightly bigger and with bright lettering, read COASTAL ECOTOUR. She immediately spied the Caretta, moored by the small wooden office built on pilings. The Caretta was a long, flat, creamy-white pontoon tour boat with steel railings, a metal roof, and narrow benches on either side. Her mind flashed to the day the boat had been christened after her. She’d stood in a white dress and hat, beaming into Brett’s eyes under a cerulean sky, surrounded by friends and family. He’d been so proud. Then, on the count, she’d swung the bottle of champagne and broken it against the hull. She’d given the Caretta and Coastal Ecotour ten of the best years of her life. And then she’d sold it and moved away. She felt the ensuing three years’ time like an invisible barrier she had to cross.
She swallowed hard and, lifting her chin, followed David to stand with a cluster of people at the dock entrance. She knew she could stroll over to the office and say hello, and there would be hugs and tears. No waiting for you! But she couldn’t. She wanted to hide in the group of strangers dressed in pastel T-shirts and Bermuda shorts with phones out clicking pictures. Suddenly she didn’t know if she was ready. She leaned against David, and he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and squeezed.
The line began to move forward. Two young boys raced down the ramp, hooting and hollering, to grab front seats. A man’s voice called out, “Hey, no running! There’s plenty of room.”
Cara bit her lip, recognizing Robert’s voice. They inched forward. She stood behind David as he handed Robert their tickets. Robert was chatty, calling Rory a young pirate. She followed his gaze from Hope’s face to her. His words stopped short, and his smile dropped into a gape of wonder.
“Cara!” Robert exclaimed as his expressive blue eyes moistened. “I didn’t know you were coming. No one told me.”
“It was last-minute.”
“And you waited in line?”
“Felt like old times,” she said, looking into his eyes. The silence that followed spoke volumes.
“But hey, you’re going to have a great time. You’ll see a few changes, but nothing major. Brett created a well-oiled machine. I just keep it going. Though I’ve got to confess, I sure do miss you handling the books. I try, but . . .” He shook his head.
She knew he was being modest. He’d been with Brett from the beginning and had helped build the business. It was her great joy to help Robert buy the company after Brett’s death.
“Business good?” she asked.
“Very. We keep growing. Did you see our new boat yet?” When she shook her head, he waved her closer to the ramp. “Come take a look. It’s a beauty,” he added, and she couldn’t miss the pride in his voice as they walked down the wooden ramp to the dock. Beside the Caretta was a slightly smaller, flashier blue-and-white pontoon boat.
“It’s fabulous,” Cara said, admiring the blue padded seat backs, something she and Brett had talked about. “What do you call it?”
Robert looked out at the boat and said, “The Salty Captain.”
Cara sighed. That was Robert’s nickname for Brett. “That’s perfect.” She looked at Robert. He had the wiry body of a seaman. His blond hair was salt-stiff, his tan deep and ruddy, and around his neck and up his arms were handcrafted macramé and beaded jewelry pieces made by his wife and daughter. Robert was a good man.
“You’re the new Salty Captain.”
His eyes sparkled with gratitude. “Aye, that I am,” he replied with a pirate’s growl. Then he looked at the large diver’s watch on his wrist. “And being captain, I have to get this boat moving. Let’s get on board.”
She and David took seats in the rear of the boat, steering clear of the two rowdy boys, who were pinching and jabbing at each other. Robert’s assistant, a stocky young woman with her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, jumped to and from the boat with ease, if not grace, to untie the ropes. This had been Linnea’s job once upon a time. She had been a natural teacher, trained by Brett. Cara smiled, remembering the first time she watched Brett leap like Douglas Fairbanks, counting on his impeccable timing as he brought the boat out of dock. When the big engines roared to life the children on the boat all sat up, eyes wide, and leaned over the railings to watch the water churn. Robert guided the boat at a snail’s pace along the no-wake zone, until they entered the Intracoastal Waterway. Then he opened it up to full speed. The boys were, for the first time, speechless as the whitewater caps pushed out a wide wake and sprayed the air with droplets of water. Robert could spin a good tale as he explained how the Intracoastal Waterway extended from the Florida Keys all the way north to Boston. Cara listened and remembered how it had been a dream of hers and Brett’s to take that journey one day, maybe for their twenty-fifth anniversary.
Robert spoke to the children and adults alike with the passion of a teacher who loved his subject. As he talked about the dolphins, the sharks, and the different species of fish that swam in these waters, everyone could hear in his voice how much he loved all marine life. He stood with his shirttails flapping in the wind and his hands always moving as he showed them the intricacies of shells and pulled up live snapping crabs from the sea. As he educated them, he helped each of them understand what they could do to make a difference. He’d learned these lessons from Brett. Listening to Robert, she heard Brett’s expressions, his jokes, the passion that had guided his life.
David leaned closer and said, “If I come back in another life, I want to be that guy.”
She looked at him, his eyes sparkling like the water around him. He had no cl
ue about all the memories flitting through her mind now. To all outward appearances, she sat calmly with a mild smile on her face, observing the scenery through her large, dark sunglasses.
“Why?”
“Look at him. He’s doing what he loves. What more can anyone ask from life?”
Cara saw that David was being sincere. He’d worked long and hard for many years, had been enormously successful, and now, a widower and a grandfather, looked at what life offered differently.
She turned her head and looked at Robert, but in her mind she saw Brett. He’d always known this was the life he wanted. There’d never been any question in his mind. He was happiest on the water, on the Caretta, teaching visitors to the lowcountry all about her charm. She was awash in memories as the boat swayed in the current.
At last they reached the small island of Capers. Robert pushed the growling engines up into the sandy edge of the beach. The engines quieted suddenly, and he let out the anchor.
In the resulting peace, Cara could hear the gulls cry overhead and the sound of the waves lapping the shore and against the boat. Robert lowered the gangplank, and in friendly order, everyone disembarked. Cara brought up the rear. David stepped off first and stood in the watery sand of the shoreline, then reached for Rory, then Hope. Cara took a breath and stepped once again onto Capers Island.
Capers had always been her and Brett’s place. They’d courted here, made love here for the first time, and returned many times over their ten years of marriage. Miles of white sand sparkled under a brilliant blue sky, welcoming her back. The tide was low, so the beach was streaked with long gullies that coursed through the sand like rivers. Cara knew Rory and Hope would love splashing in the sun-heated pools. She’d always felt a million miles away on Capers Island. Today, however, she was crowded by memories.
“Shall we go?” David asked, not wanting to rush her.
The other boaters were already far ahead. Some had disappeared around the bend; others were slowly strolling, inspecting shells, taking photographs. All enjoying the remote, idyllic island. A squeal caught her attention, and turning, she spotted the two mischievous boys swimming around the rear of the boat, up to no good. Robert was already trotting toward them, calling them back. Cara held back a smile, knowing he’d have his hands full for the next forty minutes. She adjusted Hope’s sun hat and, catching David’s eyes, smiled and took a step forward.
The sand was warm, the sun was hot, and there was just enough of a breeze to keep the insects at bay. David and Cara walked at the children’s slow pace. Hope’s steps were faltering, especially in the soft sand. The tide line was covered with shells of all sorts. Cara kept her gaze to the ground, bending from time to time to pick up a shell, poking in each to make sure she wasn’t stealing the home of some snail. Hope mimicked her, picking up a shell and delighting in putting it in the bag, over and over. The rest of the boaters had moved far off across the island, leaving them the wide swath of beach to themselves. Cara looked around and spied a shallow gully of water beneath the shade of the trees.
“David, there’s a sweet little pool of water in the shade. Let’s let the babies play here. It’s perfect for them.”
David asked Rory, “What do you say, champ? Feel like a swim?”
Cara was restless and not in the mood to talk. David sensed this and didn’t press. After a while of tending the children splashing and crawling, Cara pulled Hope from the pool and dried her.
“David, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go ahead on my own. I need some time alone.”
“Of course,” he replied. “Would you like me to take care of Hope?”
She shook her head. “I’d like to keep her with me. But thanks.”
“I’ll meet you at the boat, then.”
She was grateful for his understanding. David was not the type to sulk.
Cara picked up Hope and began walking along the seemingly endless stretch of narrow beach strewn with large, dark, fallen trees. A few of the dead trees still stood tall like ancient monoliths, their curled and gnarled roots twisting around sand and shells in the open air. It was a ghostly place, desolate in its stark beauty. Brett had thought it the most beautiful spot in the world.
She found what she was looking for. A small creek cut through the sand, a favorite spot of Brett’s to cast a net for shrimp. She turned inland toward the shelter of the trees to a place she knew well. Not too far in, a large dune crested to a flat plateau. It was hard going with Hope in her arms, but Cara dug in her heels, climbed the dune, and stood panting at its peak. The ocean’s breeze caressed her skin, and she looked out over the thicket of shrubs to the mighty blue ocean beyond. This was Brett’s favorite place to pitch his tent. Here was where he’d first made love to her, and it was here, too, that she’d fallen in love with him.
She felt his presence keenly around her. She could almost hear his voice in the wind whispering her name in the trees. Cara lowered to sit on the dune beside Hope. She wanted to lay her head on the sand, stretch out her arms, and weep, as one would mourn at a grave site. Her chest ached from holding it in. But Hope needed her. She was a mother first.
So instead she began to dig a hole to entertain her daughter. She idly scratched the surface with her fingertips, then a bit deeper, when some unexplained urge took hold of her. She began digging, deeper and deeper, clawing the sand, her tender fingertips scraping tiny bits of shell. Putting her hands in the sand grounded her, gave her a place to let her anxiety flow from her brain and her heart out through her fingers into the beach. This was not a game, nor was it like digging a turtle nest. This, she knew, was a kind of grave, the grave she’d never dug for her husband. Brett had been cremated, his ashes sprinkled on the water off Capers, straight out from where she sat now.
Cara’s fingers dug deep to where the sand was cool and moist. Earthy. Beside her, Hope was mimicking her, picking up handfuls of sand and throwing them into the air. The gold band on Cara’s right ring finger caught the sunlight, and she stilled. She held her hand up, her eyes filling with tears.
“Brett,” she called out to him, her voice breaking with emotion. Hope turned her head to look at her, attuned to her mother’s tears. Cara took a breath to try and contain herself for Hope’s sake.
“I love you,” she said aloud. “I miss you every day.” She paused, lowering her hand. She needed to say the words out loud. “Your presence is still so very real. You’re everywhere I go. Everywhere I look.” She reached over to stroke Hope’s arm. “I have a child. At last. And I need her. She’s a gift. Her name is Hope. You would love her.”
Hearing her name, Hope’s eyes grew expectant. Cara reached for the bag of shells and emptied them out in front of the baby. Immediately Hope was enthralled with them.
Cara spoke again. More deliberately. “I’ll always love you. But I have to accept that you are gone. And that I have to move on.” She paused. “I’ve found someone who I think I could love. He’s a lot like you, in so many ways. Good. Kind. Honest. But he’s different, too. He’s not you. And he’s not a substitute you, either. I like him,” she confessed. “Very much.”
It was so hard to say the words aloud. She felt a pang of guilt and it wasn’t fair. Cara brought her hand to her heart in a fist. “You’re not even alive, but I feel like I’m cheating on you! What should I do?” she asked, tears flowing down her cheeks. “Please, Brett, let me know it’s okay to say good-bye. To move on.”
Hope lunged forward to hug her. “Mama!”
Cara hugged her back, knowing the child sensed her sadness. “Mama’s fine, sweetheart. These are good tears,” she said, then pulled back and wiped her eyes. “Mama knows what she has to do.”
Cara looked at her hand and, without hesitation, slid the thin gold wedding band from her finger.
“Here, Hope.”
Hope reached over and, with her chubby pincer fingers, picked up the ring.
“Can you put the ring in the hole? Go on, it’s okay. Put it in.”
Hope delicately
, obediently dropped the ring in the center and watched as it fell deeper than she could reach. She immediately looked to Cara for approval, and seeing her mother smile, she clapped her hands and burst into a joyful “Yay!”
“Good girl, Hope. Thank you for helping Mama.”
Together they filled the hole with sand and patted the top flat like a turtle did its nest. Finally, Cara chose the best shells and formed a circle over the smooth sand. She leaned back on her arms and looked at her work. There was symmetry to the project, a synchronicity about being here today, with Hope and David, that made the circle feel binding. She felt sure she was heard.
She lifted Hope into her arms and with a determined stride left the hidden dune in the pines and walked from the shade into the open, sunlit beach.
Chapter Thirteen
Sea turtles swim at a leisurely pace but are capable of moving at great speeds for short distances with their long, broad flippers. Leatherbacks can dive to a depth of a thousand meters.
WORK WAS BEGINNING to take off and Cara was hitting her stride. The cloud of worry dissipated with the steady income. Each morning she awoke and said a quick prayer of thanks that her life was her own again. She volunteered to share Linnea’s turtle team schedule so she could walk the beach with Hope in the mornings. It was like old times slipping into her turtle team T-shirt, lathering on sunscreen, and stepping out into the placid air while the day was young and the sky was still blushing.
This morning, as always, Hope was wide-eyed and silent as they walked the beach. The sand was rippled by the outgoing tide. The muted colors of shells added texture to the scene, and there were the usual clusters of shorebirds and the skittering of crabs. She walked at a power pace, her long legs covering the distance in easy time. At first Cara had been shocked at how winded she was at the end of her turtle walk. But now she was enjoying the exercise, doing it for herself as well as Hope. She was bonding with her daughter. Her head was cleared out of doors, and she could solve the problems playing in her head. And she was feeling more fit. More herself.
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