As the Tide Comes In

by Cindy Woodsmall

  Luella fought to find her voice. His vulnerability floored her, and she could sense the pain he’d gone through. That’s why he’d refused to assume who she was. “I’m sorry.”

  He dropped his hand from the shelf. “It’s long over, and none of that has bothered me for more than a decade. But it was a hard lesson, and I’ll never forget it.” His words hung in the air for a moment, and then he glanced at her, the left corner of his mouth curling in a lopsided grin. “I’ve found I’m warming to the quirks of you and your friends. Maybe I could join you for the reading of Sidney Lanier’s poem next year if I’m still on the island. Unless the poem reading is an invite-only event.”

  What a strange conversation. “I thought we weren’t allowed near Tidal Creek Grill?”

  “Oh, you’re certainly taking that show somewhere else. But I’d still like to come.”

  Close your mouth, Luella, and go. But she walked over to the bookcase and traced the spines of the Demere Culture Guides with her index finger. She probably had a silly grin on her face. Julep always said she was terrible at poker. “You know, L. Demere is doing a book signing at our store this Friday.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  What do you know? He actually looked interested. “I’m not. There’s a special updated twentieth-anniversary edition of the St. Simons Island Culture Guide coming out. Did you know L. Demere’s first book was written about St. Simons?”

  “I didn’t. I need to get it.” He grinned. “You’re telling me one of my favorite travel writers is coming here?”

  She raised her shoulders and hands in her best attempt at a nonchalant shrug. It was all too much fun to string him along. “Maybe I should have told you about the book signing earlier. If I had, maybe you’d have been more open to giving us a bigger, nicer shop.” Time to come clean. She couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he found out he had been reading her books.

  The phone rang, making her jump.

  He flashed her a smile. “Excuse me.” He picked up the receiver, and after a few seconds he sounded miffed. “What?” He listened and then gave a list of short answers. “I said no. You do nothing until I get there.” He hung up. “I’m so sorry, but I need to go.” He gathered his briefcase and few belongings as he spoke. “I’d love to talk more, but it will need to be at the book signing.”

  She held up a finger. “Okay, but I just need to tell you something real quick—”

  “It’ll have to wait.” He walked to the office door and pulled it open.

  “But—”

  “Sincerest apologies, Luella.” He gave her a nod. “We’ll talk later.”

  Well. At least he took his business seriously. Very seriously. She’d never felt that kind of intensity about her work. “Okay.”

  “I trust you know your way out.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Go.”

  “Thanks.” He rushed off, leaving her standing in his office door.

  Oh well. At least I tried.

  24

  Tara sat in a recliner, staring out a window.

  Voices echoed inside Julep’s home—Hadley’s girls playing, the Glynn Girls talking as they prepared supper, and her friends discussing the best way to load the luggage on top of the SUV.

  Had all conversations before now been ninety-five percent twaddle and she just hadn’t realized it?

  The house had too much of it. She’d returned here from the gazebo yesterday morning and slept here last night. But the solitude of the bike ride and sleeping in the gazebo night before last had been more soothing to her soul than being in a busy home. Hadley wanted to head out around the kids’ bedtime so they would sleep the whole way home.

  Her thoughts returned to Sean and Darryl. She longed to be with them, to hug them and laugh with them and scold them and help prepare for the next phase of their lives. There was always a new, next chapter, and they’d worked together to be ready for it. How had it all ended without warning? What was she supposed to do with her days? The bustle of her own family was gone, just completely over.

  “Tara?” Hadley put her hand on Tara’s knee.

  Tara blinked, trying to hear her.

  “It’s time to eat.”

  Tara peered beyond Hadley to see her friend’s two young daughters—May and Isla—staring at her. How many times had Hadley called to Tara? Beyond them was Julep’s dining room with the Glynn Girls and Tara’s friends and their families.

  “Yeah, sure.” She followed Hadley into the dining room and sat.

  The mealtime prayer and following conversations around the table barely registered. If the truth of her brothers being dead had set her free, she’d been freed inside a dark, windowless room. Why hadn’t God taken her too?

  Luella touched Tara’s leg, and Tara tried to see beyond the darkness of the windowless room. Luella nodded at Hadley.

  Tara turned, realizing Hadley was asking her something.

  “It was May’s idea for us to bring your laptop. When we bought you a new cell phone, we used the last phone backup you’d made to your laptop to set up your new phone.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled at seven-year-old May. But what did Tara need a cell phone for? To be more painfully aware that Sean and Darryl weren’t calling or texting? And to be constantly reminded they would never call or text again? “That was very smart of you, May.”

  May grinned. “Mom says that your phone now has all the texts you’ve ever sent or received on it.”

  Tara nodded. “I am grateful not to have lost those.”

  “Auntie T,”—May shoved a bite of steak into her mouth—“what’s wrong with your voice?”

  Hadley smiled at May. “Let’s talk about it later. Okay, sweetie?”

  “There’s something different?” Tara asked.

  “It’s just temporary.” Elliott wiped her mouth with a napkin. “It’s not well researched, but people who are in the throes of grief often have a different speaking voice than before the incident.”

  May angled her head. “That’s it! All the joy is missing from your voice.” May’s little face contorted. “You used to laugh all the time.”

  “I guess so.” Tara forced a smile. “But that’s okay, May. It’s human to go through really sad times, and it’s okay to sound and look different from that point onward.” She winked. “It would be far sadder if I was the same person after Sean and Darryl died as I was before, right?”

  May propped her elbows on the table. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Elliott cleared her throat. “When you feel like getting on Facebook, you should look at your home page. There’s been an outpouring of love and condolences.”

  “I will. I don’t know when, but I will.”

  “You sure you want to keep waiting?” Hadley asked. “It seems like that could be cathartic.”

  “If I thought that, I would hop on Facebook and read every comment. If I wanted to go home to grieve, I would’ve said so. Apparently my way of grieving doesn’t meet with your approval.”

  “I didn’t mean…” Hadley drew a slow breath. “It was a suggestion, T.”

  “Yeah, and is going back to North Carolina a suggestion too?”

  Hadley pursed her lips. “Lynn from the grocery store set up a GoFundMe page for you, and it’s also filled with an outpouring of love in messages and donations. Someone anonymously donated five thousand dollars, and we guessed it was your boss from the outfitter store.”

  Tara hadn’t thought of her two jobs one time in the last…“How long have I been here?”

  “Sixteen days.” Elliott put her hand in Tara’s.

  “Odd.” It felt as though it’d been a lifetime in some ways, as though nothing had ever existed outside of her need to find her brothers. Her arms ached with a hunger to hug Sean and Darryl.

  “Lynn said they would hold your position at th
e store for as long as you need, and George Webb from the outfitter store said the same thing.”

  “You had two jobs?” Sue Beth asked.

  Tara nodded. “One paid the bills, and the other offered great discounts and funded our love of outdoor adventure. Plus the outfitter store allowed Sean and Darryl to work in their bike-repair shop starting at a young age.”

  She liked her coworkers at both places. They had become friends, and Lynn and Webb, which is what most people called him, almost seemed like relatives. Lynn was the age of the Glynn Girls, so she was a bit like a mom, and Webb was old enough to be her dad but was extremely fit. They occasionally came to dinner with their spouses. Sean and Darryl had worked for Webb in the summers and on weekends.

  Her brothers.

  She missed their smiles and laughter so much she could hardly breathe, and thoughts of the day she agreed to raise them returned to her again. “My rock!” She looked at Luella. “Did you get my suitcase?”

  “Oh.” Luella fidgeted with the condensation on her glass. “I went by the hotel, and since you hadn’t returned to the hotel, the manager thought you couldn’t find another hotel and must’ve gone home. He shipped it to the address registered with the hotel.”

  Tara longed to hold the rock, but that desire made no sense.

  “Well, that’s not so bad.” Elliott squeezed Tara’s fingers. “I’ll take you to the cabin to grab your suitcase tomorrow evening.”

  “Okay.” She stood. “Thanks.” Did she look as disoriented as she felt? “I need to go for a walk.”

  “Sure, sweetie.” Hadley held up a bottle of pills. “Take your medicine first, and take your phone with you. We’re leaving in about two hours.”

  Tara downed the pill with a few swallows of water. She thought it odd that they would travel at night, because the kids might be wide-awake once they got home in the middle of the night. But that wasn’t Tara’s responsibility. Actually, she didn’t have any responsibilities anymore. Even work had served only one purpose—to take care of Sean and Darryl.

  She went out the door, down the stairs, and to the narrow asphalt road. The screen door creaked, and she knew someone was keeping an eye on her. Ignoring it, she walked to the road that ran parallel to the marsh and went right. When a long pier came into sight, she went to it. The air vibrated with sounds of creatures she didn’t recognize. She breathed deep, smelling the marsh and the nearby wildflowers. The sun edged toward the horizon, and the sky held a multitude of shades of blue and orange.

  “God, I don’t want to be here on this planet.” She wiped her tears. “Please, I can’t take any more. Help me.”

  Unsure what she was asking, Tara dropped the prayer. Did it matter what she wanted or needed?

  25

  Luella and the Glynn Girls quietly followed Tara, probably a hundred yards behind her. The young woman deserved to grieve in peace, but Luella couldn’t let Tara get out of sight. Julep, Dell, and Sue Beth said they felt the same way. But the other Glynn Girls hadn’t seen what Luella had—the moment when Tara looked like Sapphira.

  Perhaps it happened because Sapphira had been a rare woman with many rare qualities, and in that moment Tara had seemed to have them too. Or maybe it was just the overwhelming sadness Tara bore. Sapphira had carried a similar burden for more than two decades. Luella didn’t know why, but Tara felt like a part of her now—as if she somehow belonged to her.

  Tara walked to the far end of the pier where the narrow planks opened to a gazebo over the marsh. She seemed to gravitate to gazebos, whether on this side of the island or near the lighthouse. She seemed so lost, and Luella ached as though she suffered the loss with her. Julep took Luella’s hand. Oh. The girls were going to pray. She joined them in praying, eyes open, as they watched the soft summertime dusk take over the marsh. It was like being inside a dream.

  The longer they held hands, quietly praying, the stronger Luella’s desire grew to walk to the pavilion and say something that might stir the young woman’s heart with hope. But what could she possibly say?

  “Come on.” Luella tugged on Julep’s hand before releasing it. They walked the long stretch of creaking boards. Tara turned and glanced at them, her face wet with tears. Luella moved to one side of her, and Julep came up on the other side.

  Luella leaned in, catching Julep’s eyes. “ ‘Glooms of the live-oaks, beautiful-braided and woven…’ ”

  A chorus of Glynn Girl voices finished that first line.

  Yes. This was right. Reciting the poem for Tara in unity, in love, in hopes of lifting some of the grief off this young woman, and so they continued reciting the poem, and Luella’s heart stirred.

  “…And my spirit is grown to a lordly great compass within,

  That the length and the breadth and the sweep of the Marshes of Glynn

  Will work me no fear like the fear they have wrought me of yore

  When length was fatigue, and when breadth was but bitterness sore,…

  “…To the edge of the wood I am drawn, I am drawn,

  Where the gray beach glimmering runs, as a belt of the dawn,

  For a mete and a mark

  To the forest-dark:—

  So:

  Affable live-oak, leaning low…

  Bending your beauty aside, with a step I stand

  On the firm-packed sand,

  Free…”

  Yes, Lord. Let Tara be free…

  “Ye marshes, how candid and simple and nothing-withholding and free

  Ye publish yourselves to the sky and offer yourselves to the sea!

  Tolerant plains, that suffer the sea and the rains and the sun,

  Ye spread and span like the catholic man who hath mightily won

  God out of knowledge and good out of infinite pain

  And sight out of blindness and purity out of a stain.

  “As the marsh-hen secretly builds on the watery sod,

  Behold I will build me a nest on the greatness of God:

  I will fly in the greatness of God as the marsh-hen flies

  In the freedom that fills all the space ’twixt the marsh and the skies:

  By so many roots as the marsh-grass sends in the sod

  I will heartily lay me a-hold on the greatness of God.”

  Such powerful words! Words to encourage and heal. The Glynn Girls’ voices rose as if each one sensed the same thing. Their passionate voices spoke every syllable of the poem until coming to its end.

  On the length and the breadth of the marvellous marshes of Glynn.

  They stood in silence, listening to a summer’s eve on the marsh—birds singing and insects chirping.

  Tara shifted and clutched Julep’s arm. “Do you hear the whisper?” Tara’s skin was covered in goose bumps.

  The women glanced at each other, shrugging their shoulders ever so slightly.

  Tara’s eyes were wide. “I can’t leave here yet. I can’t.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “A whisper. It sounded like Sean saying stay. I know it might not be real. It could be a symptom of my head or heart trauma. But…”

  “It’s okay, Tara.” Julep put her arm around Tara. “This land is filled with unusual things, long shadows, and odd noises.”

  Tara backed away from the four women. “I…I need to stay here. On St. Simons. Please.”

  “We would welcome you, sugar”—Sue Beth put her hands on Tara’s shoulders—“but it’s not our decision.”

  The Glynn Girls nodded.

  “Gavin is as patient as the day is long,” Dell said. “And he’s never stood his ground with us the way he did the other day. We gotta respect that.”

  Tara peered beyond them, gazing across the marsh again. “But you’d let me stay with you if he agreed?” A few moments later she looked at
Luella. How could she refuse? She nodded, and when Tara looked at the other Glynn Girls, each of them nodded too. “Then he’ll have to approve it. Where is he?”

  “He’s at work. We’re not supposed to go to the fire station unless someone at the station extends an invite.”

  “There are no exceptions?”

  Julep shrugged. “I’m a bit unsure.” She tilted her head. “But as I think about it now, it seems that with Gavin being single and having no children, he’s never interrupted by family coming to see him.” Julep narrowed her eyes. “It’s time we change that.”

  Tara’s lips tugged into a smile. “Am I family?”

  “Most definitely.” Luella grinned.

  “It’s the station I’ve passed half a dozen times over the last week, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Dell said.

  Tara walked away, and her step seemed to have a little lilt to it.

  The Glynn Girls followed, and Luella had a feeling they’d all be on bikes again soon.

  Real soon.

  26

  Gavin chopped carrots with a vengeance before dropping them into a simmering skillet of onions and mushrooms. He and the men had been out on a call since midafternoon, and it was past eight. Everyone was hungry, and four men were making dinner while the others tended to the equipment.

  His mind returned to the debt threatening to ruin his credit and take the home his parents had built together. He had continued taking Sapphira’s house apart, and next week surveyors were lined up to survey the property and break it into two lots. But unless a miracle happened, despite selling off parts of Sapphira’s home to the highest bidder and breaking the land into two lots, he’d still be short by at least two hundred thousand dollars, maybe three. Hopefully not four.

  “Lieutenant!” Bryan ran inside, a grin a mile wide on his face. “She’s here.”

  “Yeah?” Gavin wiped his hands on the towel-turned-apron draping from the waist of his blue pants. “Your mom arrived early? We could set an extra pl—”