The Beach House (31 page)

The first morning of July Lovie woke up inspired. Her heart was leaping with excitement and her cheeks flushed as she called Toy and Cara to the table.

“I want to have a great Fourth of July celebration in honor of the restoration of Primrose Cottage! I want us all to be together, my family and friends, here at the beach house again.”

“But Mama, it’s only four days away.”

“That’s plenty of time. Why?” she asked dryly. “Do you have anything else planned for the holiday?”

“No, not exactly. I just thought…”

“I don’t have anything planned either,” Toy burst in, kicking Cara under the table.

Lovie’s enthusiasm was infectious. Before the first cup of coffee was finished, all three women were gung ho. They pulled out the favorite cookbooks and old family recipes and made long lists of all the different foods to prepare, because everyone knew a holiday meal wasn’t worth its salt without an impressive spread of home cooked food.

Lovie bubbled over with ideas, every bit the matriarch again, her pencil scribbling across the paper as she made her list. “I want to fix Aunt Libby’s corn bread. It’s as light as a cloud. And my grandmother’s fried chicken. Oh, and Grand-daddy Clayton’s barbeque sauce. Toy, can you make that potato salad again? It’s pure heaven.” She tapped her lips with the pencil. “I hope we’ll have room in the icebox for all this.”

“We’ll make room,” Toy said. “And we can always carry things over to Flo’s.”

Lovie set down her pencil and said with a wistful smile, “Most of all, I want to spend time with Linnea and Cooper. The darlings…I hardly see them anymore. Could we go to the beach? All of us together? Cara, I can’t remember the last time I saw you in the water.”

“Sure we can, Mama. We can do anything you want. But I’ll have to hurry to finish painting the pergola today or we’ll be eating this feast under dripping paint.”

“I’ll help,” offered Toy.

Cara tilted her head. “Thanks. And I’ll help with the food.”

Both women smiled in commiseration.

Lovie witnessed this and smiled, too. “While you two are busy, I’m fixing to do an errand of my own. It’s too hot to do our own baking. Flo and I are going to town today, so I’ll pick up a few cakes and pies. And on the way back I’ll stop by Belva’s for some red, white and blue flowers.”

“Don’t get carried away and do too much,” Cara warned.

“Oh, bother. I’m feeling wonderful. And Flo will be with me.” Lovie picked up her pencil and poised it over the pad of paper. “We’d best make out an invitation list first. I’ll call and invite Palmer and Julia before I leave. They’re always busy and it’s such short notice. I hope they can come.”

“They’ll come,” Cara replied with an iron undercurrent that implied she’d make certain of it.

“And, of course, Florence and Miranda.”

“Emmi will have a hissy fit if we don’t invite her,” said Cara.

“Of course, Emmi! Will Tom be here, too?”

“He’s still away.” She met her mother’s knowing gaze.

“What about her boys? Aren’t they coming down for the weekend? Maybe she has plans.”

“She can bring them along.” Cara sidled a glance at Toy. “Her boys are close to your age. Maybe a year or two older. And last I saw them, they were very cute.”

“Oh sure, like they’d be interested in me.” Toy rolled her eyes but not before Cara caught the flash of hurt.

Lovie twiddled her pencil. “Do you think Brett would come?”

“I’m sure he will. He’s as proud of this porch as you are.”

“Bless his heart.”

Toy smirked. “Like that’s the only reason he’d come.”

Cara shot her a glance.

“Things
do
seem to be getting thick between the two of you,” Lovie said good-naturedly. “You’ve been eyeing each other across the porch for weeks. And, I swanny, I never saw two folks bump into each other as much as you two. Just clumsy, I suppose.”

“We’re friends.”

When her mother raised her brows, Cara felt nettled. “Why is that so hard for you to believe? A man and a woman don’t always have to be heading for the altar.”

“When you find the right one, you do,” said Toy emphatically. “I’ve got
girls
for friends. Why go through all the motions just to be friends with a guy?”

“Most of my friends are guys,” Cara retorted. “And if I ever do get married, I want the man to be my friend first.”

Toy stared back at her as though she’d never thought of that concept before.

Lovie smiled broadly. “Cara, I do believe that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you mention the possibility of getting married.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Mama. I was talking in generalities.”

“I’m not making any plans or reservations at the club quite yet. I merely think it’s wonderful that you’ve found a man as good and caring as Brett. I’ve always liked that boy. He’s a giver. He thinks of others before himself and that is too rare a quality these days. You’re good for him, too. For all his finer points, that’s one ship that needs a solid rudder.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Mother…”

“Cara, don’t take the Lord’s name at my table!”

“Okay, I’m sorry. But why do you say things like that? Brett and I haven’t
found
each other. That implies we were lost.”

Lovie’s lips twitched. “Well, since you put it that way…”

Toy shook her head. “I think when you say you’ve found someone, it really means that you’ve been searching for the right guy.”

“I’m not searching for anything, except maybe a new job.”

“You just don’t like that you can’t control falling in love,” Lovie said.

“Maybe I don’t believe in love.”

“But that’s crazy,” Toy blurted out, seemingly upset by the very idea. “There’s someone out there for everyone.”

“Someone or anyone? There’s a difference. Anyone isn’t good enough for me. I won’t settle. I’d rather live alone, thank you very much.”

Toy again sat back in her chair, speechless.

“Brett and I like each other very much,” explained Cara, “We are enjoying each other’s company. He’s a very attractive man. But neither one of us is looking for anything permanent. We accept this for what it is. At best, a summer’s fling.”

“One summer can change lives,” Lovie said softly. She looked at her daughter. Cara’s dark-brown eyes were indecipherable. She’d always felt guilty with the knowledge that her own bad marriage had shadowed Cara’s viewpoint. It was a pity that her daughter saw love as highly overrated and marriage as a trap that crushed a woman’s spirit. Lovie prayed that this summer Cara would open herself up to allow love to flow in. She could never tell Cara how true love—the love she’d experienced for one golden summer with Russell—was like the tide that rushes in to replenish even the most arid soil. How one summer could last a lifetime.

No, she couldn’t ever tell her daughter this.

“Well, then,” she said, looking again at her list. “That brings the total to thirteen.”

“Thirteen? Isn’t that bad luck?” Toy asked.

“Not necessarily,” replied Lovie. “But just in case, I’ll fix up a batch of my special black-eyed peas.” Her smile was bittersweet. “I’d like to make that dish one more time.”

As she bent her head to finish writing her list, Cara leaned back in her chair and gazed out the window and Toy scraped with her nail at something stuck on the table. The three women quietly understood that Lovie wouldn’t be around in January to make this traditional Southern dish that brought good luck to the New Year.

“Is that you, Lovie Rutledge, sneakin’ in my kitchen?”

“Miranda! You’re up and about again. How wonderful! That must mean you’re feeling better.” She went to hug Miranda who walked with a wobbly gait into the room. Her long, gnarled fingers clung to the counters for balance. Years back, Miranda Prescott used to dwarf both Lovie and Flo and she had a voice and attitude to match her size. Sadly, the past ten years had not been kind to her. At ninety, she’d grown steadily weaker and more confused. On her good days, however, her pale eyes radiated warmth and wisdom. Today was one of her good days.

“I just had myself a visit with Jesus but I’m back again for a while,” Miranda replied. “This is no time for being sick. Couldn’t miss the hatchlings, now, could I?”

“It wouldn’t be the same at the nests without you. We’re expecting our first hatching any day.”

“I know it. I’m watching for it.”

“We’re going to start sitting on the 6th Avenue nest first. According to my chart, it ought to boil on July 6th. How’s that for a good omen?”

Miranda’s eyes sparkled. “You just never know. Those turtles are wily.”

Since the moment Miranda Prescott came to live with her daughter on the Isle of Palms, she was devoted to “her babies.” She couldn’t be bothered by turtle tracks or the moving of nests or the regulations of the Department of Natural Resources. All she cared about were the hatchlings and she visited every nest on her small stretch of beach during the hatching season.

“I’m having a holiday picnic. You’ll come, won’t you?” Lovie asked her.

“You’re what?”

Lovie raised her voice. “Having a picnic. On the Fourth.”

Miranda’s eyes, rheumy with age, were uncomprehending. “I hear you two girls are going to town this morning.”

Lovie gave up on that question with a chuckle. She got a kick out of still being called a “girl” by Miranda. “Just a few errands. I don’t imagine you’d like to come?”

“Me? Good heavens, no. Why would I want to deal with all that traffic in this heat? Plus, I don’t like to go to the city in the summer. Pains me to see those horses work in this heat. I’ll just sit on my porch and watch my stories.”

“We’re going to the bakery for some pies. I’ll pick up something sweet for you, and when we come back, we can sit together and pour the tea. How does that sound?”

Miranda smiled tremulously, and with a vague uncomprehending nod, turned and began shuffling off, mumbling something Lovie couldn’t quite catch. As Lovie watched her leave, she thought to herself how she wouldn’t grow to be as old as Miranda.

A moment later she heard Flo’s voice in the other room telling her mother in a loud voice where she was going. When she burst into the room the air seemed to crackle around her. She was dressed in a rather short khaki skirt and a vibrant red-and-white-striped shirt that showed off her tan.

“Hey, sugar! Don’t you look nice in that blue dress. Are you ready to go to the bank?”

Lovie clutched her purse against her conservative sheath dress, nervous about her appointment. Despite the heat, she wore nylons, dress shoes and a sweater against the chill of the air-conditioning.

“I’m long past ready,” she replied.

Flo hesitated, searching her face. “Are you sure you want to do this? After all these years, to do this
now.
”

Lovie nodded, her gaze firm. “If not now, when? Bobby Lee Davis will be waiting for me and he’s called my lawyer to join us, too. It’s all arranged. He says it’ll be as easy as falling off a bridge. The only thing I have to do is sign some papers. Besides,” she added with a twinkle in her eye, “we’re preparing for the Fourth of July, the day we celebrate our independence. Don’t you think that’s fitting?”

Hatching time approaches. Inside the nest the baby turtle pecks at its shell with an egg tooth. The hatchling will remain underground for several days to absorb every bit of the important yolk sack for the energy to survive. It also needs to allow its curved shell to straighten.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T
he sprinklers were swirling all morning on the Fourth to help the garden perk up for the party. They’d rented long tables to place on the back screened porch and covered them with bright-blue paper tablecloths, paper dishes, plastic forks and spoons and the fresh flowers Lovie had brought home from the florist. Nobody wanted to spend the evening washing dirty dishes when there were fireworks to be seen. Cara and Toy twisted and taped red, white and blue crepe paper and added balloons with flags on them in the corner. Cara also strung white lights around the room, something her mother had always done. She’d thought they were like stars when she was a child and hoped Linnea and Cooper would, too.

She walked into the living room in search of more tape when she spotted her mother arranging photo albums on the living room table.

“What’s all this?” she asked.

Lovie looked up from her task smiling with pride. “These are the fruits of my labor for the past few months. An ongoing project. I’ve gathered all the loose photographs of the family into some kind of order at last. I had no idea there were so many. They’ve been stuffed in shoe boxes for years. Come look,” she said, sitting down on the sofa and pulling out two albums. “I’ve separated yours and Palmer’s childhood photos, one for each of you. I thought you’d like to keep them.”

Cara came closer to join her mother on the plump, floral sofa. She took the album labeled Caretta in gold and ran her hand reverentially over the fine, soft navy leather.

“Thank you,” she replied, moved. “It’s beautiful.”

Lovie smiled, anxiously fingering the album. It was plain to see the albums meant a great deal to her.

“The rest of the photos I placed in albums and grouped them in years. It seemed the easiest way.”

Cara glanced over at the albums on the table. There were at least ten and they represented decades. “So many years,” she said, suddenly feeling each of her forty. “You’ve done an incredible job.”

“I’m not done yet,” Lovie replied, flushed with the compliment. She leaned closer to look over Cara’s shoulder as she opened up the album.

Cara enjoyed sitting beside her mother, pressing shoulders with their hands almost touching as they leafed through the pages. They skimmed over photos of Cara learning how to swim in the surf, fishing with Palmer, performing in piano and school recitals, teary eyed but smiling as she boarded the bus to camp, and dressed up in all sorts of costumes for Christmas pageants, Halloween and Easter. Cara relived the happier moments of her childhood, years that anger had clouded.