The Summer Wind (10 page)

“Let’s get you inside,” Lucille said, rounding the car. “I’ll get Harper to collect your suitcase later. You shouldn’t be lugging anything heavy up the stairs, leastwise not yet. Come on, Miss Dora,” she said, nudging her forward.

Dora followed Mamaw’s slow pace up the stairs. She felt tired but not ill. Under normal circumstances Dora would have hurried up the stairs without a second thought. But the attack had made her nervous about her heart, despite all the doctor’s reassurances.

Inside the house, all was quiet.

Mamaw set her pocketbook on the front hall table and called out in a cheery voice, “Harper!”

There was no answer.

Dora immediately felt her heart quicken with worry. “Nate?” she called out, walking into the living room.

No answer.

Dora felt a surge of energy and rushed through the living room and down the hall of the west wing of the house. The door to the library, where Nate slept, was closed. Without knocking, Dora pushed open the door, eyes searching for him.

Harper and Nate were sitting side by side, cross-legged on the floor in front of the video game screen. Harper wasn’t much bigger than the boy; she looked like a kid as they both leaned slightly forward, their gazes focused on the screen and fingers flying over the remotes. From time to time, one would grunt or the other would shout out “Oh, no!” It took a moment for Dora to digest that Harper was actually playing video games with Nate—and that she was having a good time.

Mamaw and Lucille had followed Dora and joined her at the library door. The noise they made alerted Harper and she
swung her head around. On seeing Dora, her large blue eyes sparked to life and her face opened up in delighted surprise. She lowered the remote and exclaimed, “Dora, you’re back!”

“Yes, just,” Dora replied, still a little bewildered at the sight of the two of them playing games together.

“Look at you!” Harper said. “You don’t look bad at all. And here I thought you’d be hobbling around like an old crone.”

“No, I’m fine, really. More a scare than anything else.” Dora’s gaze sought out her son, desperate to lay eyes on him. Nate had not come to visit her in the hospital. She knew he didn’t like hospitals, but she had missed him like crazy and was hoping he would give some signal that he was glad she had returned. But Nate’s gaze remained resolutely on the screen.

Harper turned to Nate and said pointedly, “Nate, your mom’s back!”

Nate continued to play his game.

“Hi, Nate,” Dora said.

He looked briefly in Dora’s general direction, then just as quickly returned to his video game and continued playing.

Harper frowned and leaned close to him. “Nate, go say hello to your mother. She’s just come back from the hospital.”

He ignored Harper’s admonishment.

Dora could see that Harper was upset that Nate wouldn’t leave his video games for his mom, but Dora was familiar with her son’s ways. He often ignored people and didn’t pick up on normal social cues, especially when he was engrossed in one of his games.

“He’s not being rude,” she told Harper. “I wish you wouldn’t encourage him to play video games,” she said tersely. “You know I’m trying to get him to ease up on them, to go outside.
Why would you do that?” Then, trying to modulate her voice, Dora looked again at Nate.

“But Nate, your
behavior
is rude. When your mother returns home from the hospital—or from anywhere—it’s polite to stop what you’re doing and greet her. So come now, and say hello to your mother.”

Nate stopped playing the game and set his remote on the floor. Harper moved aside, allowing him to slowly rise and approach his mother. When he stood before her, Nate looked up and impassively studied her face.

“You look sick. Are you going to die?”

Dora could hear Mamaw suck in her breath behind her, but she smiled and replied, “I’m not sick, Nate, and I am not going to die. Not for a very long time, I hope. I’m just pale because I am tired. Did you think I was going to die?”

“Yes. You went to the hospital, like Delphine. And she might die.”

Dora wanted to hold him tight to her breast, to comfort him and smother his cheeks with kisses, but she knew he would recoil; instead, she merely reached out to cup his face in her hands and smile into his eyes.

“I’ve missed you,” she said, her heart pumping with love.

Nate didn’t respond other than to pull his head back from her hands.

“Did you miss me?”

He nodded, looking at his hands.

Dora bent closer to his ear. “Were you worried?”

Nate nodded again.

Dora felt her heart bloom. “You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m home.”

“You are?” he asked, glancing up at her. “Is this our home now?” he asked, seemingly confused.

Mamaw, overhearing, said, “Of course it is, Nate! All summer.”

Dora knew that Mamaw was trying to be loving, but Nate was taking her comment literally. Plus, his frown reminded Dora that he didn’t like being the center of attention. It could be frustrating for him.

“Yes, it is our home,” she answered straightforwardly. “For the summer. Like we talked about, remember? Is that okay with you?”

He looked away. “Can I go back to my game now?” he asked.

Dora didn’t want him stuck playing games in the dark room with Harper any longer.

“I think we are done with the game for a while.”

“Harper is winning and I don’t want to lose.” His voice was getting whiny.

“But I haven’t seen you in days,” she said. “Let’s go outdoors. It’s a beautiful day. I’ll make you something to eat. Are you hungry?”

“I want to go back to my game.”

“You’ve been playing for hours,” Dora replied more firmly. “It’s time to turn off the game.”

His expression immediately turned mutinous and he began shaking his hands erratically high in the air. “No!” he shouted at the top of his lungs.

“That’s enough,” Dora said sharply.

Nate began jumping up and down on the balls of his feet. “I hate you!” he said over and over. Then in a rush of defiance he ran to grab his remote from the floor. “I won’t turn it off.”

Dora felt her anger zoom and stomped over to Nate’s side to grab the remote from him. “It’s time to turn off the game.”

Despite his small size, his anger was quick and powerful. Nate’s face colored and he balled his fist. In a flash he swung back and struck Dora, right over her heart. The punch packed a wallop, but more than cause pain, because it was her heart, because she was afraid, the hit shook her. Dora stumbled back, hand over her breast and sucking in her breath.

Nate threw himself onto the ground in a full-blown tantrum.

Dora watched him howling and kicking with a feeling of helplessness. She couldn’t move, couldn’t find the energy to go to him, to soothe him. She felt swallowed up by panic and despair.

“I can’t do this anymore!” The cry ripped from her throat. She backed away from her son and covered her face in her hands. “I need help!”

In a breath, she felt Mamaw’s arms around her, heard her voice at her ear. “We’ll help you, Dora. You’re not alone.”

D
ays passed and Dora did not leave her bedroom. She couldn’t muster the desire, much less the energy. She lay listlessly on the twin bed, wearing a thin white cotton nightgown, staring at the patterns of light playing on the ceiling. It was another in what seemed a steady stream of hot midsummer days. The air-conditioning hummed, but Mamaw never kept the temperature very cool. The ceiling fan did a good job stirring the air, though the blades were slightly off balance, shaking the fan and making monotonous clicking noises as it whirred.

Dora had shared this small bedroom with Harper since they’d arrived at Sea Breeze in May. When she’d returned from the hospital, however, she found Harper had temporarily moved into Carson’s empty bedroom. Dora had expected Harper to move back in with her when Carson returned the night before, but she heard the two of them giggling and talking
in the other room like little girls till the wee hours of the morning.

Dora hadn’t minded sharing a room with Harper. She couldn’t have wished for a better roommate. She was tidy, excessively so. Her younger sister lived like a nun, albeit a well-dressed one. All her clothing, shoes, and jewelry were stored in attractive storage boxes or velvet bags. Her laptop and books were stacked in orderly fashion on the small table in the corner. Her bed was made every morning, complete with crisp hospital corners. Even in the bathroom, not only did she clean up after herself but she compulsively cleaned up after Dora, as well, picking up towels from the floor, wiping the sink and tub, putting away toiletries into the baskets she’d purchased.

Still, sleeping in the same room, in twin beds no less, was a bit more togetherness than either of them wanted. Harper was on her computer or reading a book until late at night. Dora usually could fall asleep, but on nights she couldn’t she pretended to be asleep while the clickety-clack of the computer keys occasionally set her teeth on edge.

Everyone was gathered out on the porch. Dora could hear the chatter and the clink of dishes from her room. She strained to listen but couldn’t make out the words, only the soft murmur of conversation punctuated by the occasional laugh. She could get out of bed, of course, but no one had thought to come check on her, or invite her to join them.

She turned on her side, feeling a tidal wave of sadness as cold and blue as the deep Atlantic Ocean. Why would they ask her to join them? she thought morosely. Why would anyone? Cal had told her she could be boring, and she believed it was true.
People didn’t warm to her like they did to Carson, who never met a stranger she couldn’t charm and make feel like family. Carson was like Mamaw, spontaneous, fun to be around. People flocked to her side. Harper, too, despite her seeming reserve, seemed to have a million friends. Someone was always texting her, or e-mailing her. Her phone was always making noises.

Dora had no friends, no lovers, no life. Even her son didn’t want to be with her. What was wrong with her? She clenched the pillow tight with her fists, remembering her breakdown.

“Lord help me, I’m so ashamed.”

Her own meltdown had rivaled Nate’s. Only now, with hindsight, could she see how she’d missed all the signs. It was easy to see now that Nate was not merely annoyed at being told to turn off the game. A meltdown was never just about rage. While she was at the hospital he’d been worried, frightened, lonely, frustrated, and perhaps even sad. Dora’s ultimatum had just delivered the last straw. If she was honest with herself, she didn’t recognize them because all she could see was that Harper had found a way to play with Nate, just as Carson had before her.

Dora knew her sisters were only trying to help. To get to know their nephew better. Part of her was thrilled that they were making the effort. Grateful. Yet, another part of her was jealous to see them playing together.
Why didn’t her son want to play with her?

She knew that answer. She was the enforcer in her son’s eyes. The rule maker. In contrast, her aunts were fun. Carson swam with dolphins. Harper knew the good games. Her breath
hitched in her throat as the truth became obvious.
I don’t know how to play with him.

She heard a faint footfall in the hall and she turned her head toward the door, on the alert.
Go away, go away
, she thought, clenching her eyes tight and holding her body still. She just wanted to be left alone in her misery. A moment later, she heard a faint knock on the door. Her first thought was not to answer; to pretend she was asleep. Then she heard Mamaw’s voice.

“Dora? Dora, dear, are you awake?”

Before Dora could decide what to do, the door opened and Mamaw’s silvery head peeked through.

“Am I waking you up?”

“No,” she said begrudgingly.

“Good,” Mamaw said, and walked in. She went directly to the bed.

Dora expected her to rest her hand on her shoulder, offer a gentle pat of encouragement. Instead she took hold of the sheet and whipped it off her body.

Dora swung around and stared at her agog.

“Dora, it’s high time you stopped this pity party and got out of bed!”

“I don’t want to.” Dora grabbed for the sheet and pulled it back over her shoulders.

“I don’t care. I’m telling you I want you up and out of this bed this instant. Do you hear me?”

Dora hadn’t been spoken to like that since she’d been a little girl. She was too stunned to speak. Instead, she turned her back to Mamaw and curled up in a ball and began to cry.

“Oh, Dora,” Mamaw said with exasperation, sitting on the bed beside her.

“I’m so unhappy,” Dora wailed.

“Darling, you passed unhappy miles ago. You’re right at the corner of depressed and downright miserable.”

“I know,” Dora sobbed. “I hate my life, I hate myself. I hate everything.”

Mamaw, unforgivably, laughed.

“It’s not funny,” Dora ground out.

“No, it’s not. But you’re having what my mother would call ‘a case of the vapors.’ Lying in this bed wallowing isn’t helping.”

“I like it here.”