Beach House Reunion

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “It was more than nice,” Cara said. “I feel like I’m still floating. It was . . .” She looked up as though searching for the right word. “Transformative.”

  “That’s a pretty powerful word.”

  Cara sighed. “I know.”

  Linnea leaned forward. “Well, c’mon, what makes an evening transformative?”

  “I don’t know if I can explain it.”

  “Try.”

  “Well . . .” Cara began. “The setting was perfect. Candlelight, heavy white linen, the scent of flowers, fabulous wine, and delicious food.”

  “Enter handsome man, beautiful woman. Sounds like a Hallmark movie.”

  “It was,” Cara said with a slight shrug. “We talked about anything and everything. We have this comfort between us, a lack of inhibition that allows us to tell each other things that we might choose not to tell anyone else. The kind that comes from trust.”

  Linnea thought of John and felt another notch of surety about him. “I know that feeling.”

  “David is an extraordinary man. I’ve never met anyone quite like him. He’s just returned from London on business and brought me a sweet souvenir,” she added with a smile. “I’ll show you later. Anyway, while I listened to him talk about his business and how much he loves what he does, it was so strange—it was as if a different person was sitting across the table from me. Someone formidable. Someone I was suddenly very interested to know more about.”

  “I know what you mean!” Linnea said, sitting upright. “The same thing happened to me. With John. We were having drinks and he was talking about his new project and I realized he wasn’t just some laid-off surfer dude. He has real depth . . . and I found that attractive.” She smiled seductively. “Very, very attractive.”

  Cara laughed lightly. “I’ve always found intelligence to be an aphrodisiac.”

  “Oh yeah? Is it a coincidence, then, that both the men you fell for were tall and handsome?”

  “Strictly a coincidence.”

  “Or luck.”

  “Luck had nothing to do with it.” Cara laughed. “Truly. I like to think it’s fate.”

  “Or good karma.”

  Cara tilted her head. “I like that better. God knows I’ve paid my dues.”

  Linnea watched Cara closely. So elegant and strong, yet behind the façade she presented, Linnea had seen her broken, too. Brett’s death had done that. Frozen her heart for three years. She was happy and relieved to see the thaw.

  “So, you’re ready for love after love?”

  Cara’s face grew thoughtful. “It’s very strange to go from tears for Brett to smiles for David. I’ve had to accept that my divided heart is normal. Intellectually it all makes sense, of course. But emotionally . . .” Cara shook her head. “It’s very hard. Nothing makes much sense in the heart. I have to go with how I feel. My instincts have always been pretty good, and over the years I’ve learned to listen to them. If I don’t, I make errors and fall into regret.”

  “So what does your gut tell you?”

  “Not to be afraid,” Cara replied. “I’ve found someone who loves me, scarred heart and all. The love I have for David is different than the love I had for Brett. But I’m different, too. So, yes, I believe I am ready.”

  “Oh, Cara, I’m so very, very happy to hear that.”

  “Me too,” she replied. “And you? Are you ready? I can’t help but turn the tables and tell you I’ve watched you and John together. You seem to be a good fit.”

  Linnea paused, feeling again the confusion that overtook her whenever she thought about her relationship with John.

  “You might be ready for love, but I’m not. Not the happily-ever-after kind. I’m only twenty-two. I don’t even have a real job yet. I haven’t tested myself yet. Aunt Cara, I want to get married and have children someday. But one thing I learned this summer. As much as I adore Hope—and you know I do,” she asserted.

  Cara smiled. “I know.”

  “Being a nanny this summer showed me I’m not ready to settle down and be a mother yet. I’ve got things I want to do. Places I want to go. I don’t even want to get tied down to a serious relationship.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “You make that sound so easy.”

  “I didn’t say it would be. I’m saying you have the choice. Linnea, you’re only young once. Take it from me, life speeds by, and if you don’t enjoy your freedom while you have it . . . Too soon you may make a commitment, have children, have a house and debt, all of which is wonderful on its own merit. But be ready for it. Go into it wholeheartedly. Then you’ll never live your life wondering about what could have been.” Cara leaned far over to take hold of the bottle of wine and poured herself a glass. “I’m talking too much.”

  “No, you’re not,” Linnea said. “Please go on. You’re like a second mother to me. I’ve always admired you. How you up and left at eighteen and never looked back. I mean, you were only eighteen!”

  Cara settled back on the sofa and brought her long, slim legs up to stretch out beside Linnea. It was an intimate move, one a mother might make with her daughter.

  “Linnea,” Cara began, “don’t glamorize what was a sad situation.”

  “I know—but be honest. It took courage.”

  “I had to make a choice. My father drew his line in the sand, and I crossed it. Let’s just say he made it impossible for me to stay.”

  “But you left Charleston,” Linnea persisted. “Went all the way to Chicago. Did you have money?”

  “I had my savings. It wasn’t much. But it bought me a train ticket. I knew a girl from school who went to Northwestern, right outside of Chicago. It was one of the universities I’d applied to.” She snorted. “And gotten in.” She brushed a bit of lint from her dress. “I remember being so jealous that she could go to college and have an apartment, all paid for by supportive parents. While I . . .” She set her glass on the table and said without self-pity, “I looked for a job. I always loved school, you know. Learning. I still love walking through libraries and bookstores, just to let my fingers run along the spines of books.”

  “And you got a job.”

  “I did. There are more ways to learn than in school. ‘Experience is the best of schoolmasters.’ I think Thomas Carlyle said that. It’s true. I figured if I couldn’t go to school to learn, I’d get a job in the area I wanted to learn. I started as a receptionist in an advertising agency, but I always asked questions about the job and worked late. People noticed. I learned so much on the job, but I also went to night school, got my degree, and earned several promotions along the way. All in all, I did quite well for myself. And there’s no small degree of satisfaction in knowing that I did it all on my own.” She sighed and placed her palms on her thighs. “Then I got laid off. I came running home and my life changed in ways I never anticipated. Or wanted. I never expected to fall in love.” She lifted her shoulders and took a sip of the wine. “The rest you know.”

  Linnea admired Cara’s resilience. And more, her independence. She’d thumbed her nose at her father and taken off for Chicago. She was a role model. Someone Linnea could always count on to be honest.

  “I want an adventure like that.”

  “Hardly an adventure.”

  “Well, to test myself, then. Sometimes I lie on my back and think, where would I go if I could go anywhere?” She laughed self-consciously. “Of course, at first I come up with ideas of Paris or San Francisco . . .” She paused, thinking of John.

  Cara caught the reference and arched a brow. “San Francisco?”

  Linnea nodded. “There’s a job possibility there.”

  “Really? That’s exciting. Hallelujah!”

  “I don’t know. There’s a lot to consider.”

  “Like what? Frankly, my dear, you don’t have a lot of other offers.”

  “But what will Daddy say? And . . . it’s not a good time to leave home.”

  Cara paused, looking at her askance. “Excuse me. But didn’t you just t
ell me you admired me for leaving home at eighteen? You’re twenty-two. What are you afraid of? Certainly not my brother . . .”

  Linnea shook her head. “Aunt Cara, I haven’t been completely open with you.”

  Her gaze sharpened. “About what?”

  “About Daddy. Cooper. Mama.” She closed her eyes to collect herself. “They’re all one hot mess. I’m afraid for them.”

  Cara sat up and set her glass on the table. Linnea felt a new tension in the room as Cara set her razor-sharp focus on her.

  “I know your father’s been drinking more than usual.”

  Linnea snorted derisively. “A lot more. Every night he gets drunk. Cooper said living at home was hell.”

  Cara swallowed hard and her brows knitted. “I see. And Cooper?”

  “He’s the one I’m most worried about. He was supposed to come here last weekend. He promised.” She shrugged. “But he didn’t. He’s dodging me. He’s drinking too. I think . . . no, I feel sure he’s doing drugs.”

  Cara inhaled sharply. She thought for a moment, then asked, “What kind of drugs? Marijuana?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s more than pot. I tried to talk to him about it, but he denies it. He’s so unhappy, Cara. He feels trapped, and I think drugs help him escape.”

  “What’s he feeling trapped about?”

  “Everything. He doesn’t want to go to the Citadel. That’s a biggie. Mostly he doesn’t want to disappoint Daddy. Which means he’ll be trapped in the family business.” She laughed harshly. “He might not have to worry about that.”

  “What’s that?” Cara’s voice was sharp.

  “According to my mother, they’re on the verge of bankruptcy.”

  Cara’s face registered shock. “Good God!” she exclaimed. “The family’s gone to hell in a handbasket, and I’m only just hearing about it?”

  “The Rutledges are very good at covering up.”

  “No,” Cara snapped. “We’re very good at lying. There’s a difference.” She rose and began pacing the room, her fingers tapping her crossed arms. She stopped before Linnea, her dark eyes flashing.

  “First, I have to tell you I’m hurt you didn’t come to me with this sooner. I thought we had a stronger relationship.”

  Linnea felt crushed by the criticism. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’ll go see my brother. Try to talk some sense into him.” She stopped and exhaled. “But you know him. He holds his feelings in like Fort Knox. And with good reason. In all fairness, when I left home all those years ago, I left him to deal with the mess at home. You may think that I’m the brave one, but I say it was your father. He held the family together and dealt with our father. He’s the one you should admire. Palmer is not a bad man, Linnea. I fear if what you say is true, he’s simply lost.”

  Linnea had never heard her aunt speak like this before. And she’d never thought of her father in this light.

  Cara came to stand in front of Linnea. “Regardless of what Palmer does or says, regardless of what happens with your brother, Linnea, you have to make your own decisions for your own life. You’re not a child any longer. Nor are you your brother’s keeper.”

  “But you just called my father a hero for staying.”

  “I did. But Cooper is not alone. He has his good parents. And he has me. Let us be there for him.” She reached out to place her hand on Linnea’s shoulder. “My darling girl, I love you too much to allow you to throw your life away. I’m not saying go to San Francisco. I’m saying don’t feel compelled to stay here. Do you understand?”

  Linnea nodded. “What if that means going with John?”

  Cara took in a breath and straightened, lifting her hand. She asked urbanely, “As a lover? A friend? A traveling companion?”

  “All of the above.”

  “Not as a husband.”

  “No.”

  Linnea knew that Cara understood the ramifications of that decision with regard to her father, her mother, her reputation.

  “Then I’d say be very careful. Not only of your own feelings, but of his.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Veterinarians at sea turtle hospitals diagnose each turtle and work with staff and volunteers to provide treatments and care. Patients are given IV fluids, antibiotics, vitamins, and other medications, similar to any human patient. Based on the sea turtle’s condition, a variety of procedures may be performed, such as X-rays or ultrasounds. The goal is rehabilitation and release.

  AS THE DOG days of August plodded on, the female turtles ended a productive season. They had been nesting on these local beaches since early May, going back and forth from sea to beach every fourteen days to lay another clutch of eggs. Their instincts fulfilled, their bodies empty of eggs, the tired and hungry turtles swam home to the sea to forage and gain strength before they returned in three years to repeat the cycle again.

  One female turtle was not leaving. Not yet. Toy and Cara stood shoulder to shoulder in the great exhibit hall before Big Girl’s tank. She had been moved to the main exhibit when her health improved, and being so large, she was a star attraction. She enjoyed the larger tank, but today she seemed restless, swimming round and round the tank, her flippers stretching wide. Her carapace was gleaming, free of barnacles, and her eyes were bright and aware. Still, there was a frantic quality to her swimming.

  It was early and the crowds had not yet been allowed in. Toy administered the medications and made notes. Flipping her clipboard closed, she looked at Big Girl.

  “She wants to go home,” Toy said.

  “I know. Poor girl, it wasn’t a good season for her,” said Cara.

  “She laid more than seventy eggs in that tank. We did our best to catch them and bury them, but none of them hatched. No surprise there, but still . . . we hoped.”

  “When will you release her?” Cara asked.

  “As soon as the blood work comes back clear and Dr. Shane gives her the okay. Her shell will never heal, but there are a lot of sea turtles in the ocean living productive lives with shark bites. It’s got to be a badge of honor to survive it, right?”

  “I was kind of hoping she couldn’t be released. That we could keep her.”

  “I know. But our Caretta in the big tank wouldn’t like that. Remember—”

  “I know. They’re solitary swimmers.”

  “And that’s not our mission, is it? It’s like you said, Big Girl’s a prime example of the resilience of turtles and what we do here.” Toy looked at the turtle. “She’ll go back into the ocean where she belongs, and in a couple of years, hopefully she’ll lay thousands more eggs.”

  “What a girl,” Cara said, and crossed her arms. The size of Big Girl’s head gave new meaning to the word loggerhead. “I really love this turtle.”

  Toy grew serious. “This turtle was here for me when I needed her most. Remember how we examined her on a makeshift table of cardboard boxes? And look where she is now,” she said, indicating the gleaming new sea turtle recovery center. “When I look at her, I’m reminded of why I went into this line of work in the first place. She taught me so many lessons about life. Resilience. Big Girl was my teacher. And this place,” she said, indicating the aquarium, “has been my school.” She took a breath and tilted her head. “Having her come back into my life now was providential.”

  Cara turned to face Toy. Her face wasn’t as pale and tired as a few weeks ago, and her golden hair had a brilliant sheen. She seemed healthier. Happier. Her baby bump was larger, too.

  “How so?” she asked.

  Toy watched Big Girl make another circle in the tank. “Big Girl helped me to realize how much I love working with turtles, all the animals in the aquarium, really. And how passionate I am about protecting them and their natural habitat. That’s why I was so excited about the new position as conservation director.”

  Toy looked up at Cara. “But I know now that I don’t want to leave the sea turtle hospital,” she concluded. “I’ve watched it grow from a kiddie pool to a state-of-the-art hospi
tal. I still have so much to offer. So much I want to do here.” She shrugged and smiled in sweet surrender. “I don’t want to leave.”

  Cara was stunned. “You’re not taking the position?”

  Toy shook her head. “The more I thought about it, the more I realized I don’t enjoy public speaking. I’m more a behind-the-scenes person. And the hours would wreak havoc on my personal life. Especially with this new baby.” She gently patted her belly. “I had to think long and hard about this decision. It didn’t come lightly. My biggest concern was that I’d end up failing both at work and in my home. Part of my strength is knowing what I’m good at and where I belong. And I love doing it. And Lovie used to say, ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’ ”

  Cara smiled, remembering.

  Toy cleared her throat and stepped closer. “Cara, would you be interested in the position?”

  Cara wasn’t prepared for that question. “As conservation director?”

  “Yes.”

  Cara blinked. “This is so sudden. So unexpected.”

  “Is it? You know how much the PR department and Kevin have appreciated all your ideas about the campaign for Big Girl.”

  “They’ve done a great job with it.”

  “It’s wildly successful. You’re like a never-ending font of ideas. It’s just what the position needs. And you’re an excellent public speaker.”

  “More a salesperson,” Cara said with a wry grin.

  “Don’t shortchange yourself. I’d say you know how to deliver a message.”

  “Isn’t it a full-time position?”

  “Yes. For the first few months while you launch it, I suspect it will be time and a half.”

  Cara brought her fingertips to her lips and began tapping in thought. “I have to admit, I’ve been dreaming about coming back to work at an aquarium. I miss being around the ambience. But to be totally honest, Toy,” she said, “I’m building my own clientele as a consultant. In fact, I’ve just taken on a new client. I’ve worked hard this summer. I’d have to think long and hard about that.” She turned to look at Big Girl swimming in an endless circle in the tank. She felt like she was swimming with her, going around and around the same questions endlessly, eager for release. “And there’s Hope. I left the aquarium in Tennessee to come home and raise Hope. This would mean going back to work full-time. I have to consider this very carefully.”