Swimming Lessons (19 page)

She nodded, then stripped the sticky, sandy shorts off and pulled her turtle team T-shirt over her head. She dumped the damp clothes on the floor.

“Not my nest. The one on 27th and it was a nightmare. The hatchlings headed straight for the lights of the city. We had to carry them to the ocean, over and over again. They’d get right to the surf then turn around and head back toward the light of the street. Poor things. But I tell you, it was frustrating. I hope this doesn’t happen all summer.”

“Go take your shower. You’ll feel better.”

The cool water sluiced down her body, rinsing the sand off in sheets. Closing her eyes, she wanted to fall asleep right there in the pouring water. The air felt cooler when she stepped out from the shower. She dried herself quickly, feeling the lateness of the hour deep in her bones. Wrapping the towel around her breasts, she went to the fridge to scrounge for food. She was always hungry these days. Standing in front of the fridge, she ate a boiled egg, a chunk of cheese and poured herself a glass of milk.

“What are you working on?” she asked when she returned to the bedroom.

“The July report for the new site,” he replied, looking up. He tossed the pencil on the bed. “Another month of summer gone. I don’t know, hon. Three operations up and running…it’s going to be tight.”

“We’re at the peak of the season. Things are picking up.”

“They’d better be.” He ran a hand through his tawny hair. He cut it short in the summer, but no matter what he did, it always managed to look unruly. “I wonder if we didn’t expand too fast. The Bull’s Bay operation is off to a slow start. We’re barely making it.”

She sat beside him on the bed. “Brett, I know this is tough for you to believe, but we’ll be fine. Back when the property for the site in Bull’s Bay became available we had to be aggressive or lose the chance of buying it.”

“We spent every penny we had and we’re in hock up to our necks.”

Cara sighed. She knew Brett feared being in debt. He didn’t have faith in the demographics she’d shown him. She’d spent years in marketing and advertising; she knew how to read the numbers. But he believed in her. He’d supported her business plan, put his business and house on the line, and worked like a bull in the harness seven days a week to launch the two additional operations. She hated to see the new creases carving across his broad forehead and the faint blue shadows under his eyes.

She moved to collect the papers from his hands and set them on the bedside table. Then she flipped off her towel, crawled across the mattress to his side and cuddled against his broad chest, wrapping one of his arms around her. His skin felt so hot against her own, which was cooled from the shower. She sighed and closed her eyes when he rested his chin atop her forehead.

“Toy talked to me about renting the beach house,” she began. “She thinks we should start renting to someone else to collect more rent.”

“What brought that up?” he asked sharply.

“She overheard Palmer saying something to me about it.”

Brett cursed under his breath. “Tell her to forget about it. She can stay as long as she likes.”

“I tried to, but she doesn’t feel right about it. And we do need the money.”

He sighed and it rumbled deep in his chest.

“Well, no need to worry about it anymore tonight,” she said sleepily, gently patting his chest with her fingertips. “We’ve agreed to think on it for the summer. It’s too big an issue to decide quickly.”

He remained quiet and she knew he was working things out in his own way.

“We do need the money,” he conceded. “But it’s not just the cash flow that’s wearing on me. Three locations means I’m working all the time. There’s always something going wrong, some paperwork that needs doing. I never have time for myself. For us. We’re always working, Cara. It’s all we do. This is no way to live.”

She opened her eyes and, leaning against one arm, lifted her face to him. She saw the intensity of his emotions in his eyes. Summer was his favorite time of year. He was a teacher at heart and loved taking boatloads of people out to witness the beauty of the lowcountry. He loved nothing more than to stand wide legged and grab the helm of his boat in two hands, to toot the big horn, to pull the throttle and hear the roar of his powerful engines as they churned white water. To put a man like that behind a desk was a crime against nature. And she knew that this man, her husband, did it all for her.

All her assurances were inadequate. They’d made their decision and had to stay the course. “We’re just tired. It won’t be this hard for long. Think of it as an investment in our future. It’ll be tough this season, but when it’s over, you’ll have lots of time to spend with your child.”

His eyes kindled at the words
your child
. This was their greatest hope, one worth struggling for.

Leaning forward, he kissed her lips. A familiar surge of emotion shot through her. He’d always had this power over her.

“What was that for?”

“Do I need a reason?”

“Never.”

There followed a moment when she knew they were both considering kissing again and igniting the quick punch of lust that would lead to lovemaking. Fatigue settled the question. She lowered her head to his chest and was comforted by the three gentle pats he gave her shoulder. Brett reached over to flick off the light. Instantly the room fell into delicious, cool darkness.

“Good night,” she murmured, feeling sleep descending quickly.

“I love you,” he replied, then covered her bare shoulder with the sheet.

The ice clinked in the tumbler as Flo raised it to her lips. It wasn’t often that she allowed herself to indulge in a sip of Jamieson’s and water. She’d lived alone long enough to know that drinking alone was putting one foot on a slippery slope. Every once in a while, however, she indulged. And tonight was one of those rare nights. She wasn’t depressed. She wasn’t particularly happy, either.

She simply couldn’t sleep. The long night on the beach had left her restless and when she’d looked at the small alarm clock on her bedside table for the tenth time and it still only read 2:00 a.m., she’d given up trying. So she’d come outdoors with whiskey in hand to sit on her porch and let the island breezes settle her some.

Flo rocked, soothed by the rhythmic creak of wood on wood and the scent of her mother’s roses. Overhead she tracked a slow-moving cloud in the pewter sky until it thinned and became smoky wisps. The moody sky, the gentle roar of the ocean, the cries of the insects, the scent
of roses…. Closing her eyes, she could have been the young girl who had rocked on this very porch while her mama and daddy slept upstairs. Her parents had built this house, she’d spent a lifetime here, her mother had died in it.

Miranda had believed that a spirit left part of itself behind in a beloved home. She claimed that the spirits were that unnamed
something
people felt when they returned to visit their childhood homes. The smells triggered memories, yes. The visual clues signaled recognition too. But it was the lingering love that elicited whisperings from the past.

Flo sipped her drink. She was not the romantic her mother was. To her mind, Miranda was gone, as her father had been for decades. And whether part of them remained in this old house or not, there was only herself left to bear the burden of its upkeep. Perhaps she came to her mother’s garden tonight seeking absolution for her decision. Who knew? She brought the glass to her lips again and felt the gentle, welcome burn as it slowly slid down her throat.

The sound of a door closing across the driveway caught her attention. She stilled her rocking, and looking over, saw a man’s figure leaving Toy’s house. Her senses on alert, she sat up in her chair and leaned far forward, squinting.

My, my, my…if it wasn’t Miss Toy’s Ethan sneaking out of her house like a fox from the hen house. Hidden in the shadows, she watched as he quietly made his way down the stairs then walked across the gravel drive to the street where a pickup truck was parked. Moments later she heard a car door close, the roar of an engine and the crunch of wheels against gravel as the truck drove away. Flo held her wrist watch up to the moonlight. It was after three a.m.

A slow smile of satisfaction eased across her face. “Good for you,” she murmured. Suddenly the world did not seem quite so sad or lonely. She chuckled softly and raised her glass in a solitary salute to youth and love.

M
id-August marks the end of summer along the southeastern coast and the beginning of the hurricane season. Visitors to the coast care only that the temperatures are hot and the sun shines bright over long stretches of ivory beaches. The locals, however, sense a subtle shift that begins soon after the children head back to school.

Officially the hurricane season begins June 1st when cyclones form in the western Caribbean Sea and the Gulf of Mexico. By late July, the storm formation shifts eastward and frequency increases. Still, most local residents don’t pay much mind to the skies in July, though there are some that like to sit over iced tea and remind folks of those storms that blew in early, catching them unawares.

By mid-August, however, every storm that spins off the coast of Africa becomes the hot topic of conversation at every greeting, mealtime gathering or phone conversation. Most of these storms cross vast areas of the ocean before dying off somewhere in the North Atlantic. But those that earn a name and head toward the United States tend to be severe. When that happens, tourists head for the hills and the locals are tuned to televisions and radios
as they track its progress and debate whether they’ll leave at first warning or wait till evacuation is mandatory.

Cara never reconciled with the hurricane season. She tended to be nervous and short-tempered, even more so with her pregnancy. She’d never forgotten the terror of riding out a hurricane on the Isle of Palms with her mother, watching the water in the house rise foot by foot, hearing the wind howl like a banshee and sending them cowering in the attic, clutching each other and saying their prayers. She didn’t care that Flo and Emmi teased her mercilessly. Cara remained staunchly in the “voluntary evacuation” group to leave the barrier island.

So on August 12th, when the officials announced a named storm in the Caribbean, she clicked into high gear. She stocked her emergency supplies and prepared her house for the storm. When all was in order she met Toy at the beach house and together they got the small house ready for a possible storm. The old beach house had withstood countless storms, as her mother often told her with pride. They were just putting away the plastic bins of supplies when Flo called out a greeting. She was dragging a wooden ladder from the garage and waved, leaning on the picket fence to catch her breath.

“Here we go again!” Flo called out. “Another hurricane season—and they say this one’s going to be a doozy.”

Cara and Toy waved and walked over to meet her at the gate.

“What are you doing?” Cara asked, pointing to the old wooden ladder that was splintered and splattered with paint.

“What everyone on the island is doing, checking my shingles and shutters!”

“You’re
not
going to climb up on that ladder,” Cara
exclaimed. “It’s ancient. The rungs are spindly and the whole thing looks like the worms have feasted on it.”

“I am. This ladder has been through lots of hurricanes.”

“Starting with The Great Storm of 1893, I’ll wager.”

Flo just waved the comment away as was her manner when anyone contradicted her.

“Seriously, Flo, you have no business climbing ladders at your age.”

“Maybe, but I can’t reach the young fella who usually does it for me. It used to be I could call him and get on a queue for his services. But his number’s been disconnected. I figure he’s moved on to greener pastures and isn’t waiting around for old ladies like me to ask him to do odd jobs. There’s no one else, so it looks like
tag—I’m it
.”

“I’ll get Brett to do that for you,” Cara said.

“He’s done enough already.”

“He loves nothing more than to climb a ladder. He’ll be furious if you deny him the pleasure, so it’s no use arguing. Toy, why don’t you help Flo carry that sorry excuse for a ladder back to the garage.”

“How about to the curb for the trash,” Toy said, then to Flo she added, “And you call me a pack rat.”

“This old ladder has lots of life left in it.”

Cara pulled her cell phone from her pocket thinking it was no wonder her mother and Flo had been such close friends. They looked at the world through the same glasses. “I’m going to call Emmi to meet us here. We can get your house ready for the storm in no time.”

“Don’t be silly, Cara,” Flo said, slightly flustered. “You’re all too busy. I don’t need you to do all that.”

“I know we don’t need to,” Cara replied, dialing. “But we want to.” She raised her palm at Flo’s sputtering. “Don’t bother, it’s done. Emmi’s on her way.”

Three hours later, Flo’s hurricane shutters were at the ready and on her floor lay piles of batteries, bottled water, flashlights, paper goods, tinned food and other paraphernalia on the list for hurricane preparedness. The evening had turned out to be an impromptu girl’s night out. They poured glasses of red wine while Flo prepared the spaghetti sauce. The delicious scent of garlic and tomatoes filled the kitchen. As she stirred, Flo let her gaze travel across the room.

Toy sat cross-legged on the floor packing the supplies into big Rubbermaid tubs. Emmi was at the kitchen table checking items off the list, and Cara sat beside her organizing the evacuation route they all would take should evacuation be called. Flo never had children, but if she had, she couldn’t have wished for three more dutiful daughters.

“The important thing about evacuation is that we all know each other’s destinations,” Cara said, wagging her pen in the air. “If any of us are held up by traffic jams or get detoured, we need to call. The key is for us to keep tabs on each other.”

“Isn’t that what we do all the time, anyway?” Emmi asked.

“Yes, smarty-pants, but at a time like this it’s really important to be specific,” Cara said. “I remember how terrifying it was to be caught in a hurricane and unable to find Toy when she was having the baby. Remember, Toy?”

“How could I forget? But it was different between us back then. When I left the beach house during that storm, I never imagined you’d come after me. I thought you’d never want to see me again since I’d gone off with Darryl.”

“I’m still mad you went off with that man,” Cara
said. “I couldn’t stand him or what he did to you. But not come after you?” She shook her head. “We loved you, plain and simple.”

“I didn’t even know where we were headed. I still can’t believe how naive I was.”

“And how stubborn,” Cara added.

“You were eighteen,” Flo reminded her. “Just a girl.”

Toy shook her head with wonder. That period in her life when she was a pregnant teen desperate to hang on to her dream of a family with Darryl as her husband and her child’s father was not a period she was particularly proud of. In fact, she was even ashamed of it.

“You know,” she said, “sometimes I look back at that girl and I don’t know who she was. But I swear to God, when I saw Brett walk into that emergency hospital looking for me, I knew what the word
rescue
meant. I never knew it could be such a relief to have someone care about you.”

“You know now,” Cara said and was rewarded with a grateful smile from Toy.

“I surely do. And so does Little Lovie. I guess that’s why I’m not afraid of hurricanes. That storm brought me to the happiness I have now. You just never know how things will turn out.”

“True. But even if you’re not afraid of hurricanes, you don’t want to be a fool and not prepare to get out of town, neither,” Flo told her. “They don’t call these
barrier islands
for nothing.”

“Exactly,” Cara said, passing out papers. “Take a good look at these and don’t lose them. This is the evacuation route we all should take to Columbia, and the name and number of a friend of Brett’s who has a big ol’house just outside of the city. He’s agreed to let us stay there if we
can’t get a room elsewhere. He doesn’t promise deluxe accommodations, but there are air mattresses and it will be clean and dry.”

“I get spooked just reading this,” Emmi said soberly.

“I confess, I do get a shiver,” Toy agreed. “It makes the hurricane real, you know? Not just something that swirls out there in the Atlantic.”

“It is real, all right,” Flo said. “I went through Hurricane Hugo and just remembering it sets my heart to fluttering. Nothing like seeing a big boat parked in your neighbor’s living room to put the fear of God in you.” She set the paper down on the counter and shook her head. “I just don’t know if I want to go through this over and over at my age.”

“What choice do we have? It’s the price we pay for living in paradise,” Cara reminded her.

“Maybe for you. But I’m getting pretty old to pack up this house every year. I’m not sure that it isn’t getting too much for me.”

“Oh, get on with you,” Emmi said. “You’re ageless. I know women half your age who aren’t in half the shape you are.”

“It’s catching up with me,” Flo said and her smile faltered. She set down the wooden spoon with a soft sigh.

“Flo?” Cara inquired after her. She didn’t care for the soul weary expression that sagged the corners of Flo’s mouth, nor the lines that carved deeper in her face. She’d thought Flo had looked worn out in the past week or so, like she wasn’t getting enough sleep. Flo was not one to complain or confide an ailment so Cara gently probed, “What’s the matter?”

Flo cut the flame from the sauce and came around to
join Emmi and Cara at the table. She pulled out a chair and slowly eased down into it. Her gaze traveled leisurely across the kitchen, thinking as she always did how much the airy, functional space suited her.

“I love this house,” she said in a wistful tone. “Once upon a time, this was the grandest house on the island. But tough times took its toll on our family, as it does on many. Daddy managed to hang on to the house, but he couldn’t afford to do much to maintain it. So by the time I inherited it in my forties, the old house had been a rental for years and was in a sorry state. Sea air isn’t kind to wood houses, you know. Neither are most renters. I thought about selling it then.” She sighed, shifting her eyes to her hands. “But I loved it too much to let it go. You know, of course, that I never married. I never had children. This place was my home.

“I had some money saved in the bank so I decided to bring this old house back to its former glory.” She chuckled. “What a time that was. During the week I worked in Summerville, and on weekends I came here to work on the house. You only have that kind of energy when you’re young. Later when I retired, I moved into the house permanently and brought my mother with me. I sank every penny I ever made into this house. At the end of the day, I think I did all right.”

“You know you did,” Cara said. “For whatever the reason, it was a right smart investment. Do you know how much this house is worth right now?”

“To the penny.” She paused. “I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you.”

“Tell us what?”

She took a moment then said in a strong voice, “I’ve decided to put the house up for sale.”

This was met by stunned silence followed by immediate outcry.

“No! You can’t!” Cara and Toy exclaimed in unison. Emmi sat drop-jawed and silent.

“We all have to move on at some point,” she replied soberly.

“You’d say goodbye to us? To Isle of Palms? To the turtles?” asked Toy.

“I’m not saying goodbye to anyone, child. I’m moving, not dying!”

“Hold on,” Cara said, palms out in an arresting motion. She appeared pale and shaken and needed a moment to take stock. “Let’s talk about this.”

Flo didn’t expect Cara to respond so emotionally. She was the kind of woman who rarely cried and could always be counted on to think levelly in an emergency. Toy was tender hearted and her watery eyes reflected her emotions. Emmi, in contrast to both, sat far back in her chair with her arms crossed, deep in thought.

“You’ve got your brow all furrowed, Cara,” Flo said. “Do you know you’ve done that ever since you were a little girl? Whenever anyone had a problem that brow would furrow and you’d try to fix it. Sugar, I’m not asking you to solve a problem for me. I’m just telling you what’s what. I’ve taken care of myself all my life. I never depended on anyone. And I don’t intend to start now. As I’ve said, I’ve given this a great deal of thought and I’ve consulted with friends and professionals. It’s not uncommon, you know, to move somewhere more manageable at a certain age. It’s much stickier when there is land and family involved.” She smiled but there was no humor in it. “But in my case, there’s just me. And all I’ve got in the world is this one house.”

When she looked at Cara her gaze was steady and she spoke firmly to quell any arguments that were likely forming in her quick mind. “The value of this house has shot way up. It was a good investment, as you say.” She shrugged. “The problem is, it’s my
only
nest egg. It’s all I’ve got in the world.

“Girls,” Flo continued, “I’m an example of what each of you might face in the future. It’s both a shock and frightening, after years of careful planning and saving, to come to the realization that you’re running out of money. I thought I’d saved for my retirement. The problem is, the money hasn’t kept up with inflation and isn’t enough to keep me going. Frankly, I have less than $20,000 left in my bank account. So, don’t ask me if I know how much the house is worth. The more critical question is how much my taxes and insurance have gone up. What good is the high rise in house value if I can’t afford to stay in it?”

Cara was alarmed and looked across the table to see her expression mirrored in Toy and Emmi.

“Can you rent it?” asked Toy.

Flo shook her head. “I need the cash to move somewhere else. Nope, all my money’s tied in to this house. I have to sell.”

“Oh, Flo,” Cara said, her dark eyes saddened. She was at a loss to add anything constructive. It wasn’t that long ago that she was in exactly the same position as Flo—a single woman with a career, a good lifestyle, a nice house. No husband, no children. Cara looked at Toy and saw the stark fear etched on her face. She had to be thinking of her own situation. Single women had a lot in common.

The stunned silence was broken when Emmi said quietly, “I’ll buy it.”