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Authors: Mary Alice Monroe

The Beach House

BOOK: The Beach House
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Praise for the novels of
MARY ALICE MONROE

“Readers who enjoy such fine southern voices as Pat Conroy will add the talented Monroe to their list of favorites.”


Booklist
on
Sweetgrass


Skyward
is a soaring, passionate story of loneliness and pain and the simple ability of love to heal and transcend both.”

—Anne Rivers Siddons

“Mary Alice Monroe is helping to redefine the beauty and magic of the Carolina Lowcountry. Every book she has written has felt like a homecoming to me.”

—Pat Conroy, author of
The Prince of Tides
and
Beach Music

“A devoted naturalist and native of South Carolina’s Low Country, Monroe is in her element when describing the wonders of nature and the ways people relate to it…. Hauntingly beautiful relationships between birds and people add texture to the story…. Monroe successfully combines elements of women’s fiction and romance in this lyrical tale.”


Publishers Weekly
on
Skyward

“Mary Alice Monroe writes from her heart to the hearts of her readers. It is a quality of emotional honesty together with lyrical, descriptive passages that draw her audience to books like
The Four Seasons.


Charleston Post & Courier

“Monroe writes with a crisp precision and narrative energy that will keep them turning the pages. Her talent for infusing her characters with warmth and vitality and her ability to spin a tale with emotional depth will earn her a broad spectrum of readers, particularly fans of Barbara Delinsky and Nora Roberts.”


Publishers Weekly
on
The Four Seasons

“With novels like this one and
The Book Club,
Mary Alice Monroe continues to be one of the leaders of complex female relationship dramas that hit home to the audience.”


Midwest Book Review
on
The Four Seasons


The Book Club
skillfully weaves the individual story threads into a warm, unified whole that will appeal to readers who enjoy multifaceted relationship novels with strong women protagonists.”


Library Journal

“What price beauty? Mary Alice Monroe’s
Girl in the Mirror
reflects the shadows and shapes of a woman’s painful and illuminating journey of self-discovery, of choice, of loves.”

—Nora Roberts

“Monroe’s novel is a fascinating, emotion-filled narrative that’s not to be missed.”


Booklist,
starred review, on
Skyward

New York Times
bestselling author

Mary Alice MONROE

The Beach House

This book is dedicated
to my fellow members of the
Isle of Palms/Sullivan’s Island Turtle Team:

Mary Pringle, Mary Ellen Rogers,
Beverly Ballow, Barb Bergwerf,
Nancy Hauser, Tee Johannes,
Marge Millman, Susan North,
Kathey O’Connor, Wanda Parker,
Grace and Glenn Rhodes, Sara Saylor

And to all Turtle Volunteers here and elsewhere
who walk the beaches every morning
to help our beloved loggerheads.

Also by MARY ALICE MONROE

SWEETGRASS

SKYWARD

THE FOUR SEASONS

THE BOOK CLUB

GIRL IN THE MIRROR

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This is the first time I’ve written about two subjects dear to my heart: the loggerhead sea turtles and the Isle of Palms. I’d like to thank the following people for their help with this book that is special to me.

For sharing her knowledge, lending me books, videos and pamphlets, and for answering my countless questions not only about sea turtles but about a zillion other things that would take me too long to list, love and thanks to my dear friend and Turtle Team guru, Mary Pringle.

I am indebted to Charlotte and Ken Tarr for all their valuable help with important plot points and for their tireless and continuous support of me and my books.

Once again, thanks to Julie Beard for editing, wonderful critiques and for just listening.

For art and cover designs, story editing and helping me get to the heart of my heroines, thank you, Marguerite Martino.

A special thanks to Shane Ziegler of Barrier Island Eco Tours, Isle of Palms, for sharing his invaluable insights and vast knowledge about the Lowcountry, its wildlife and ecosystem. And the tours are fabulous!

Barb Bergwerf’s incredible photographs of so many aspects of our efforts with the loggerheads were inspiring to me as I wrote during the “off” season. Thank you!

I’m blessed with a brilliant editor who helps me bring out the best in my books. Thanks to Martha Keenan, a lovely lady in every way.

As always, I’m grateful to my agent, Karen Solem, for all her insightful comments and for knowing when I needed a smile and enthusiasm.

For filling in the gaps for me while I was madly writing, for loads of support and for just being great and treasured friends, sincere thanks to Cynthia Pearlman, Susan North, Carolyn Graf, Ann Nodtvedt, Buzzy Porter, Marge Irizarry, Dottie Ashley, Sally Marschner, Tim Brewerton, Therese Killeen, Lisa and Barry Hand, Terri Ehlinger, Amy Rowe, Elizabeth Carota, Stacy Harwood, Marsha Iafrat, Clay and Martha Cable, Danny and Lena Johnson, Angela Jones, David Tekler, Susan Shimmin, Tamar Myers, Nina Bruhns, Dave and the gang at the Isle of Palms post office, the people of Isle of Palms and, of course, the Turtle Team.

For tech support, big thanks to Jon D. McCandlish.

Special thanks to the South Carolina Department of Natural Resources, Wildlife Diversity Section. In particular, Sally Murphy, Meg Hoyle and Charles Tambiah for an education on loggerheads.

It was a treat for me to learn about the early days of being a “Turtle Lady” from one of the originals, Florence Johnson, and I am very grateful.

Thank you to the Isle of Palms Police Department and the Charleston County Red Cross for advising me on hurricane evacuation procedures.

Lastly, heartfelt love and thanks to my family. To Markus, for advice and long walks on the beach while I hammered out story points. To Claire, for trying to explain the finer points of my computer. To Gretta, for insights into the mind of an eighteen-year-old girl. Lastly, to Zack, whose smile brightens up each day.

CONSIDER THE TURTLE

Consider the turtle. Perchance you have worried, despaired of the world, meditated the end of life, and all things seem rushing to destruction; but nature has steadily and serenely advanced with the turtle’s pace. The young turtle spends its infancy within its shell. It gets experience and learns the way of the world through that wall. While it rests warily on the edge of its hole, rash schemes are undertaken by men and fail. French empires rise or fall, but the turtle is developed only so fast. What’s a summer? Time for a turtle’s egg to hatch. So is the turtle developed, fitted to endure, for he outlives twenty French dynasties. One turtle knows several Napoleons. They have no worries, have no cares, yet has not the great world existed for them as much as for you?

—Henry David Thoreau
Journal
August 28, 1856

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

loggerhead. 1. Latin: Caretta caretta. A tropical sea turtle with a hard shell and a large head.
2. a stupid fellow; blockhead.
3. at loggerheads; in disagreement; in a quarrel.
PROLOGUE

I
t was twilight and a brilliant red sun lazily made its hazy descent off the South Carolina coast. Lovie Rutledge stood alone on a small, rolling sand dune and watched as two young children with hair the same sandy color as the beach squealed and cavorted, playing the age-old game of tag with the sea. A shaky half smile lifted the corners of her mouth. The boy couldn’t have been more than four years of age yet he was aggressively charging the water, the stick in his hand pointing outward like a sword. Then, turning on his heel, he ran back up the beach, chased by a wave. Poor fellow was tagged more often than not. But the girl…Was she seven or eight? Now
there
was a skilled player. She danced on tiptoe, getting daringly close to the foamy wave, instinctively knowing the second to back away, taunting the water with her high laugh.

How like her own Cara, Lovie thought, recalling her youngest. Then, seeing a rogue wave wash over the boy, toppling him and leaving him sputtering with rage, she chuckled. And how like her son, Palmer. Not far away, the children’s young mother was bent at the waist busily gathering up the carelessly thrown buckets and spades into a canvas bag and shaking sand from towels, eager to pack up and go.

Stop what you’re doing and observe your children!
Lovie wanted to say to the young mother. Quick, set aside your chores and turn your head. See how they laugh with such abandon? Only the very young can laugh like that. Look how they are giving you clues to who they are. Treasure these moments! Savor them. For they will disappear as quickly as the setting sun. And then, before you know it, you will be like me—an old woman, alone and willing to trade anything and everything for one soft evening such as this with her babies once again.

BOOK: The Beach House
2.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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