The Summer Wind (26 page)

The remainder of the evening continued in an uncomfortable vein. It was as though Cal had pulled up a chair and joined them at the table. Their conversation was stilted; a bad first date. All the natural ebb and flow that they usually enjoyed
had run dry. By the time the famous coconut cake was presented, neither Dora nor Devlin wanted any and were eager to go.

The short drive home to Sea Breeze seemed long, even in his luxury BMW sedan. It was a dark night. Heavy cloud cover obscured the moon and stars. Dora was tired and, closing her eyes, listened to moody ballads sung by Michael Bublé. When they pulled into the driveway, Devlin put the car into park but kept the engine running.

“You don’t have to walk me up,” Dora said in the darkness. Then, turning toward him, she added in a soft voice, “Thank you for a lovely evening. I had a wonderful time.”

There was a pause, then Devlin switched off the engine. He turned and slid his arm around her waist. She stiffened, but he didn’t release her.

“You don’t have to be polite. You didn’t have a wonderful time,” he said in a low voice.

“I . . . It was a delicious meal.”

He nodded in agreement. “It was. But I’m sorry I got all messed up by Cal’s phone call. Plus, that whole scene is not my style. I just wanted to impress you.”

“Impress me? Why? I’ve known you since we were kids.”

“That’s exactly why. You knew me when I was flat broke. I couldn’t ever have afforded to take you out to a restaurant like that or buy you pretty earrings. I wanted to, but I never had the money.”

“Dev, you and I . . . we never needed any props between us. It’s always been just you and me, having a good time because we were together.”

He reached out to take her hands. Looking at them, he
played with her fingers, then tapped the wedding ring she still wore on her hand. “But you married him.”

“Yes.”

“Tell you what,” Devlin said, looking at her face. “Give me another chance to take you out again. We’ll go out on the boat, like we used to. Take a spin through the creeks. Do it proper.” He drew her closer. “What do you say?”

Dora let her arms slide under his suit jacket and around his waist, and she leaned against him. She felt his warmth and smelled the faint remnants of his aftershave. It was a spicy scent and, smiling, she thought she wouldn’t be at all surprised if he was still wearing Old Spice. She turned her head up toward his.

“I’d love to.”

His smile came slow and easy as he wrapped his arms around her and lowered his mouth to hers. His arms tightened as his kiss deepened, and all thoughts of Cal evaporated into the night like an exorcised ghost.

The following morning, Dora stood at the wooden kitchen table overflowing with produce that had been delivered from a local farm. She was packing a bag of snacks for her boat trip with Devlin. She’d washed and cut up carrots and celery, added a bag of cherries and almonds, and put them into a large canvas bag beside bottles of water. A month ago she would have packed cookies, a candy bar, and soda. Though she still craved sugar, with every day that passed the desire loosened its hold on her as her refined taste buds began to appreciate the natural sweetness of fruit. After talking with Carson about Nate and his colorful schedule, Dora had affixed her own routine and
diet calendar to the fridge. Every
X
on the calendar gave her strength to stay on her diet another day.

Across the room Lucille was at the stove, stirring a pot of vegetable soup. Lucille and Mamaw stuck by their word unwaveringly, clearing all the processed foods and sweets from the cabinets. There were nights when she’d prowled the kitchen for something
good
to eat—meaning cookies, candy, anything sweet—cursing them for not leaving a single morsel of chocolate. Dora had gained a whole new understanding of Carson’s addiction to alcohol.

“That soup smells wonderful!” Dora exclaimed.

Lucille grunted. “It’d be a whole lot better if I could put a ham bone in it. Nothin’ a good soup needs more than a ham bone. That’s what gives it the flavor.”

“So put one in.”

She grunted. “Can’t. Miss Harper can sniff out a bit of pork like a coon dog does a possum. Nothing gets past her. It’ll be good,” she said, stirring. “Just not
as
good, that’s all I’m sayin’.”

“We’re sure putting you through your paces this summer with all our demands, aren’t we? No alcohol, no fat, no salt, no butter.”

“No taste,” Lucille grumbled.

“It’s healthy,” Dora offered.

“I do what I gots to do,” Lucille said with the sigh of the long suffering. “But I won’t give up my corn bread. I don’t care how much Miss Harper complains about my bacon grease, I will not give up my mama’s corn bread!”

“God forbid!” Dora agreed. “Bless her heart, she’s from New York and doesn’t appreciate the virtues of pork. But she’s making an effort. And you’re a genius in the kitchen. Everything
still tastes wonderful. I, for one, know I wouldn’t be able to stick to this diet without your support. I swear, Lucille, your cooking is holding this family together.”

Lucille appeared mollified and half smiled. “Ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for this family.”

Dora paused and stared at the woman bent over the stove. Lucille had the heart of a lion but she was normally shy of expressing her affection in words. She showed her love through action—breakfast in bed on birthdays, an ironed dress for a special occasion, fresh flowers on the bureau. To hear these words now took Dora by surprise. She went to Lucille’s side and kissed her cheek.

Startled, Lucille drew back, her dark eyes wide. “What’s that for?”

“Does it have to be for something?
You’re
family, you know.”

Lucille, clearly flustered by Dora’s show of emotion, awkwardly tried to smile as she turned back to the stove. “Just caught me by surprise, is all. You’re not one to give kisses.”

Dora wondered about that comment as she returned to the table. For so long she’d held herself back from excessive shows of affection. Cal was not physically affectionate. No pats on the behind or arms around her shoulder during a movie. She was especially restrained with Nate, knowing that he’d get upset if she spontaneously hugged or kissed him. Did that restraint come naturally to her? Was she, as Cal had insinuated, frigid?

Dora stuffed a few paper napkins into the canvas bag. “I’m sure Cal would agree with you. Maybe I should change that, eh?”

“This surely is a summer for changes.”

Dora laughed, hearing the truth in that.

“Where are you off to this time?”

“We’re going boating.”

“We?”

“Me and Devlin.”

Lucille paused her stirring, her lips twisted in thought. “I know that name. How do I know that name?”

“Devlin Cassell,” Dora replied. “You remember him. I went steady with him back in high school. Blond hair, blue eyes, tan. Surfer. He was here all the time. Practically lived in the kitchen. Used to steal your cookies.”

Lucille swung around, eyes wide. “
That
Devlin? Lord help us. Was that the man you got all trussed up for the other night?”

Dora laughed. “Sure was.”

Lucille clucked her tongue. “Back when, your mamaw was on her knees praying most nights that boy wouldn’t get into your skivvies, worried ’bout what else he’d steal beside cookies. And now it’s startin’ up all over again.” She turned back to the stove and said in a lusty wail, “My, my, my . . .”

“Mamaw doesn’t have to worry about my cookies any longer,” Dora said drily. “Let’s just say things aren’t as hot and heavy now as they were back when we were teenagers.”

“You talk like you’re an old woman.”

“I’m thirty-six. Almost thirty-seven. With a child.”

“You got the same parts, don’t you?”

“Last time I looked.”

“And they still work?”

Dora smirked. “I wouldn’t know. It’s been so long.”

“Seems to me it’s high time you find out.”

Now it was Dora’s turn to be flustered. “Well, it wouldn’t be right,” she stammered. “I’m not divorced yet.”

“You ain’t been living as man and wife for a long time.”

“It would be wrong for me to, you know, be with another man.”

“Who says?”

“My lawyer, probably. My mother, most certainly.”

Lucille grunted in a manner that gave no doubt she didn’t care for Winnie. “Who’s gonna tell them? That’s one woman who’d be a lot happier if someone took the long pole out of her backside.”

“Lucille!” Dora burst out with a laugh.

“You know it’s true. And don’t you tell me you’re not thinkin’ the same thing.”

Dora giggled at Lucille’s unexpected burst of temper. Her mother had never given Dora that little talk mothers were supposed to give their daughters at puberty. Dora didn’t think Winnie could bring herself to say the words. When Dora was thirteen, she had found a pamphlet on her bed written by some priest or bishop. It was all about the mystical body of Christ, and Dora couldn’t figure out what they were talking about.

“She was always pretty rigid about rules, I’ll give you that. And sex. I don’t think she finds sex very ladylike.”

“It was a miracle you were born, child,” Lucille said. “When Winnie talks about Adam and Eve, I’ll wager all she can think about is how they committed some sin. What’s that special name they call it?”

“Original sin.”

“That’ll be it. Ain’t we learned nothin’ since then? Still calling sex a sin. Sex is as natural as the birds and the bees.” Lucille grew agitated, putting one hand on her hip as she spoke. “God put a man and a woman together, buck naked in paradise.
’Course He knew what was gonna happen. Way I see it, that was the plan all along. Else how would Cain and Abel be born? Or any of us?”

She covered the pot of soup and turned off the stove. “Don’t listen to your mother. You ain’t sixteen no more. You’re a woman, fully growed. Make up your own mind. Just remember, we’re all Eve’s daughters.” She caught Dora’s gaze and held it. “This is your one and only life, girl. Your time in the garden.”

Lucille pointed the wooden spoon at Dora. “What you waitin’ for?”

Dora stood on the dock, staring into the current of the Cove. Even with Nate on holiday, Dora still acutely felt the weight of her responsibilities. She felt more and more sure of her decision to proceed with the divorce. This opened a Pandora’s box of decisions. Where would she move? She’d have to find a school for Nate, a job for herself. This was a watershed moment in her life.

A large fish jumped and landed in the water with a noisy splash, creating ripples that fanned out farther and larger across the water as Dora watched. She sighed—the ripples of her decisions would have long-lasting consequences as well.

The growl of outboard motors broke her dark thoughts. Lifting her head, she saw the tip of a blue-and-white boat heading toward the dock. Squinting, she spotted Devlin waving at the wheel and immediately broke into a grin and waved back.

As the big boat drew near, Dora couldn’t help but notice it was a very nice one. A Boston Whaler, at least twenty feet in length with a pretty, bright blue canopy. Devlin always liked his
toys, she thought as she stood on the edge of the dock with her arms outstretched, ready to catch the rope.

Dora loved boating—she was good at it. When the girls came to Sea Breeze for the summers, it was Dora who drove the boat while Carson and Harper rode the inner tubes or water-skied. Dora wasn’t much for getting wet. She preferred the feel of the wheel in her grasp and the throttle of engines at her control.

The boat’s engine bubbled in the water as Devlin slowly brought the boat alongside the dock. Dora deftly caught the rope and secured it. Her legs stretched precariously between the dock and boat as she tied the line. She almost lost her balance for a moment, not having the control she did when she was younger. She blushed and looked up at Devlin.

He was busy tying up the line in fast, sure movements. He was stocky but moved across the boat like a dancer. Knowing boats, she appreciated his speed and confidence. That, she knew, came only with years of experience.

Devlin looked up from the boat, grinning behind his dark sunglasses at seeing her. A worn Ducks Unlimited cap tamped down his blond, windblown hair and his skin was tanned. Devlin was an outdoorsman, as comfortable on the water as on land, and Dora found that very attractive. She smiled back and tossed him the canvas bag, then reached out to accept Devlin’s hand. At his touch she felt an electric-like charge, calling to mind the conversation about natural urges she’d had earlier with Lucille. He must have felt it, too, because he squeezed her hand again before releasing it.