Twice in a Lifetime (7 page)

The baby turtles didn’t have a choice. They made it to the relative safety of the ocean or they perished. She had choices. So why did she so often seem to make the wrong one?

At last Miz Callie sank down next to her, face brimming with pleasure. “A fine nest, filled with eggs. Let’s rest a moment, and then we can put tape up around it to keep the curious from getting too close.”

“Your first nest of the season. That’s reason to celebrate.” Miz Callie adjusted the brim of her sun hat and linked her hands around her knees, smiling a little. “Reminds me of the very first time Mary Lyn and I found one. We

couldn’t have been more than six or seven.”

This was the opening Georgia had hoped for. Now she had to figure out how to make the most of it. “Did Mary Lyn know Granddad’s brother, too?”

“Land, yes, child. We all knew each other. Mary Lyn and Richmond and I were the same age, and we three did everything together.” Her gaze softened, as if she looked back through time, seeing three bare-legged children running across the sand. “Ned was Richmond’s big brother, you see. Such a kind boy. He always had time for us. Loved teaching us about the tides and the sea creatures, taking us shrimping with him. We purely adored him.”

She patted her grandmother’s hand. “I know you loved him. But that doesn’t mean—”

“Sugar, I know all the arguments. I’ve had them in my head for months. That I saw him through a child’s eyes. That I didn’t know everything that happened. That even if he didn’t want to fight, that didn’t make him a coward.”

“That’s true, isn’t it?” She said the words gently.

“I can’t explain it,” Miz Callie said. “All I can say is the more Mary Lyn and I talked about those days, the clearer that last summer came in my mind. I knew Ned, just about as well as Richmond did. He was brave and good. He couldn’t suddenly turn around and become a coward. If he’d thought he couldn’t fight, he’d have found another way to serve.”

“Even so…” Even if her grandmother was right, it would be impossible to prove.

Miz Callie sighed. “I can’t just leave it, child. I can’t be like Mary Lyn, grieving for things left undone when she

was dying.” Her hand turned in Georgia’s, so that she gripped it tightly. “I believe God led me to those memories for a reason, and it would be wrong to ignore that. You understand, don’t you?”

She nodded. She understood that Miz Callie had a fierce need to do what she felt was right. She just hoped she hadn’t chosen the wrong grandchild to help her.

Georgia’s stomach fluttered as she and Miz Callie approached the Sullivan’s Island playground that evening, and not with excitement over the dessert that awaited at the fire company’s ice cream and cake social. She’d tried to beg off, but Miz Callie had looked at her as if she were crazy.

Miz Callie didn’t understand. It was highly likely that some of her other relatives would show up tonight, casually seizing the opportunity to check in. The last thing she needed was questioning from her folks about her nonexistent progress in changing her grandmother’s mind.

Or, for that matter, questions from her grandmother about Georgia’s nonexistent progress on her quest.

The playground was filled with people—kids swarming over the swings and the slides, teenagers gathered in groups to selfconsciously ignore their elders, grown-ups visiting with neighbors as they lined up for ice cream and cake.

“We may as well get right in line for dessert,” Miz Callie said, chugging through the crowd with a firm grip on Georgia’s arm. “I wonder if they’ve cut my cake yet.” Georgia had delivered her grandmother’s delectable praline applesauce cake to the waiting refrigerated truck earlier in the afternoon. “It’s probably gone already. You

know how people love that cake.”

Miz Callie flushed at the compliment even while

brushing it off with a sweep of her hand. “There’ll be plenty fancier than mine, I’m sure. Land, there’s Marcy Dawson and her daughter. I haven’t seen them in an age.” She veered off. Georgia followed, forcibly preventing herself from rolling her eyes like a disgruntled teenager. If you went anywhere in the greater Charleston area with

Miz Callie, she’d be bound to find someone she knew.

The good thing about coming home was remembering how much she loved this place. The bad thing was a tendency to revert to a younger version of herself.

Marcy Dawson proved to be not a contemporary of her grandmother’s but someone more her mother’s age, with windswept blond hair and perfectly tanned skin that was complemented by her white tennis shorts. Her daughter, with an apologetic smile, dashed off after an exploring toddler.

Ms. Dawson assessed Georgia with the air of someone fitting her into her proper niche. “You’re Ashton and Delia’s daughter, aren’t you? I thought I heard you were working up in Atlanta, got yourself engaged, I believe your mother told me.”

“I’m just back to visit for a bit.” She slid her left hand behind her. “Helping my grandmother get settled at the cottage.”

That distracted the woman, thank goodness, and she turned back to Miz Callie. “Is it true, then, that you’re planning to stay on the island year-round?”

“That’s right. My, word does get around. But then, you play bridge with my daughter-in-law, I believe.” There was an icy edge to her grandmother’s voice that Georgia didn’t miss, maybe the faintest of suggestions that Georgia’s mother had been talking out of turn.

“Well, I…” The woman looked around as if seeking escape. “I guess she might have mentioned something about it.”

Miz Callie straightened, and Georgia caught her arm before she could say something Mamma and Daddy wouldn’t appreciate.

“Miz Callie, we’d better get in line for our cake or we’ll never get a table. Or better yet, why don’t you find a table for us and save me a seat?”

Her grandmother sent her a look that said she knew exactly what Georgia was doing, but she allowed herself to be diverted. “I’ll go find a seat, then. Mind you get me something chocolate now, y’heah?”

“I will.” Miz Callie’s passion for chocolate was second only to her love of the turtles. With a murmured good-bye to the Dawson woman, Georgia headed for the ticket booth. Just her luck, to run into a bosom buddy of her mother’s first thing. Not that she could keep her engagement-less status a secret for long, but Mamma had to hear about it

from her, not from across the bridge table.

Deal with it, her conscience insisted, and she did her best to ignore that small voice.

Clutching the tickets, she headed for the long tables holding the cakes. A man stood, surveying the array, and an unwelcome tingle of awareness went through her. Matt. She took a deep breath, pinned a smile to her face and stepped up to him. “What’s wrong? Can’t decide which

one to choose?”

He turned and seemed genuinely pleased to see Georgia standing there. She felt her face flush with heat. “For someone who doesn’t normally eat dessert, this is overwhelming. What do you recommend?”

“Well, first you eliminate all the ones you don’t like and focus on what you do. Miz Callie has to have chocolate, the gooier the better, so I’m going for a slice of the double chocolate fudge cake for her.”

“Decadent,” he said, smiling as she put a slice on a

paper plate. “What about you? Are you a chocolate addict like your grandmother?”

“I’ve always wanted to be like her,” she admitted. “Somehow I thought that might be true.” His smile

didn’t slip, but his eyes were grave.

Maybe he understood that their special bond meant she had to protect her grandmother. And how was she going to do that when Miz Callie was headed straight for trouble? “So, chocolate for you?” He held the server poised over

the chocolate fudge.

“Actually, I think tonight I’ll go with Miz Callie’s praline applesauce cake.” She slid the knife into the rich, moist layer. “She always wants to know that folks are eating what she baked.”

“That’s a sign of a loving heart, I’ve always heard—the need to feed people.”

“She has that, all right.” She hesitated, but no one was close enough to overhear them. “I just hope her loving heart won’t lead her to a lot of pain.”

“I know.” His gaze warmed again as it rested on her face, and it was almost as if he touched her. “I don’t want to see her hurt over this, either. I hope you can believe that.” “We both want the same thing, then,” she said. “I just

have to pray we can find some way to avoid disaster.”

He stiffened. “If you’re still thinking you can talk her out of this…”

“No.” Her mind fled back to those moments on the dunes. “We talked about it. I understand why she’s determined to go ahead. The only way we can prevent—”

“Georgia.”

The voice behind her made her jump. She swung around, to be swept into a hug by her father.

“Mr. Harper,” he said, with steel in his voice. “I see you’ve met my little girl.”

Chapter Five

M
att nodded, not sure whether to offer his hand or not. Ashton Bodine hadn’t been quite as outspoken as his brother on the subject of Matt’s work for Miz Callie, but he’d certainly made his disapproval clear.

“Miz Callie introduced me to Georgia.” It was on the tip of his tongue to add “…when she arrived,” but he cut himself off.
Don’t elaborate on your answers.
That’s what he’d tell a client facing a hostile question, so maybe he’d better take his own advice.

Bodine’s already erect figure straightened until he was almost standing at attention, his eyes as frosty as the touch of white in his hair. “I see.”

Bodine could hardly control who his mother introduced to Matt, although it was clear that he’d like to. The silence stretched on awkwardly until someone moved between them, obviously impatient to reach the cake table.

Taking a step back, an excuse to leave already forming in his mind, he glanced at Georgia. And stopped. Georgia looked even more uncomfortable than he felt.

“You need a piece of cake for Lindsay.” She rushed into

speech, as if to deny that there was anything odd about this encounter. “What does she like?”

“Chocolate every time,” he said, just as glad to turn away from Georgia’s father.

Georgia snatched a piece of the double chocolate from the table. “What about you, Daddy? Aren’t you having some cake?”

“I’ll wait for your mother.”

Georgia’s tension level went up perceptibly at his words. She probably hated keeping Miz Callie’s plans a secret from her parents, and he wasn’t sure why she even bothered trying. It would all come out eventually.

Still, he couldn’t claim he knew a thing about the com-plexities of families, since he’d had none to speak of. The series of foster homes he’d been in and out of hardly counted.

Jennifer had been his family, and then Lindsay. “Well, I should take this to Miz Callie.” She sounded

relieved to have a reason to move.

“Not yet.” Bodine’s hand touched her elbow, staying her. “Here’s your mamma now.”

The woman who approached had Georgia’s dark brown hair and brown eyes, but there the resemblance ended. While Georgia’s hair dropped to her shoulders in unruly ringlets, her mother’s was cut in a sleek, chin-length style. In contrast to her daughter’s jeans and T-shirt, Mrs. Bodine wore silky white pants and a blouse, a sweater slung around her shoulders like a cape. She had the smooth elegance so many Southern women seemed born with.

Ignoring him, she touched her daughter’s hair with a manicured fingernail. “Really, Georgia Lee.” The soft drawl was gently chiding. “Let me make an appointment for you with my stylist while you’re here. They must not know how to cut hair up there in Atlanta.”

“It’s fine, Mamma.” Georgia pulled away, as she’d

probably been doing since she was a teenager. “I didn’t expect to see y’all here.”

“We wouldn’t miss the ice cream and cake social,” her mother said, voice as silky as her blouse. “Come on, now, let’s go find Miz Callie.”

She turned away without even looking at him. As a cut, it was masterful.

“Mamma, have you met Miz Callie’s attorney?” Georgia displayed unexpected steel. “This is Matthew Harper. Matt, my mother, Delia Bodine.”

The woman shot Georgia an outraged stare before nodding coolly. “Mr. Harper. Now, what was it you’re attending to for my mother-in-law?”

“I’m afraid I can’t discuss a client’s business,” he said, careful to keep his tone pleasant. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my daughter.”

Georgia meant well, he supposed, but there didn’t seem to be any value in prolonging a conversation with her parents. Overcoming their antagonism was an impossible task.

He turned to scan the area, expecting to see Lindsay still on the swings. But she was sitting at a picnic table next to Miz Callie.

Suppressing a totally unreasonable surge of annoyance, he headed for them. He’d retrieve Lindsay, move to another table, and try to enjoy the evening without thinking about the inimical gazes directed at him.

As it turned out, Miz Callie had other ideas. She greeted him with a wide smile and a sweep of her hand to the bench. “Come, sit down. We’ve been saving a place for you.”

“I think Lindsay and I should find a table of our own, since your son and his wife are joining you.” He rested his hand on Lindsay’s shoulder.