Summer's Child

by Diane Chamberlain

  “How sure are you that you’ll be able to solve this one?” Grace asked.

  “I have a feeling about it,” Rory said. “Probably whoever abandoned Shelly confided in someone over the years. Or maybe she’s suffering from having made that decision. Maybe she would want to be reunited with her daughter after all this time.”

  To his delight, the door to the Sea Shanty opened and Shelly walked out into the yard. She was wearing her white bikini, her gauzy skirt. She turned in the direction of the beach.

  “Speaking of Shelly,” Rory said, nodding in the direction of the Sea Shanty.

  “Is that her?” Grace leaned forward in her chair. She lifted the sunglasses off her nose for a better look.

  “It sure is,” he said. “Would you like to meet her?” He was anxious for another opportunity to talk with Shelly himself, but she had already disappeared over the dune. “We can catch up to her,” he said, and glanced at Grace’s fair skin. “I have some sunscreen in the cottage you can use.”

  Grace stood up. “I already have some on,” she said.

  They began walking toward the beach.

  “I used to be a sun worshiper,” Grace said. She held her arm out in front of her as they walked, and studied the pale skin. “I guess that’s hard to believe right now.”

  “Well,” Rory said, “at least you won’t get skin cancer.” He winced. That had been an insensitive thing to say. Maybe she’d had skin cancer, or some other form of cancer, and that was her problem. He wanted to ask her about her illness, but it felt too much like prying.

  “Hey, Shelly!” he called as they crossed over the dune.

  Shelly turned at the sound of her name and waved to him as she started walking toward them. The breeze tossed her blond hair into the air and blew her skirt against her long legs, and he wondered if Grace was as captured by the sight of her as he was.

  “Hi, Rory,” she said.

  “I just wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine,” Rory said. “This is Grace.”

  Shelly smiled and held her hand out to Grace. “I’m Shelly,” she said. She wore small, rose-colored sunglasses, and Rory had to smile. They certainly suited her view of the world.

  Grace shook Shelly’s hand, but said nothing.

  “Can we walk with you awhile?” Rory asked.

  “Sure,” Shelly said. “Down by the water, okay? I want to get my feet wet.”

  Once they began walking, Grace was no longer quiet. She bombarded Shelly with questions. What was her job like? What did she like best about it? What did she like least? What was growing up like for her? Did she have friends? Shelly answered every question with the sort of childlike honesty Rory was coming to expect from her.

  “Rory told me about…how you were found on the beach,” Grace said. “Did you always know about that? Did you always know that you were adopted?”

  “Oh, yes,” Shelly said. She giggled. “It was pretty obvious, anyway. I mean, everybody else in my family has really dark hair, and they’re not very tall. And there I was, this skinny, blond string bean.”

  “But it sounds like your adoptive family took great care of you, right? Maybe it was for the best that your mother…deserted you, and you ended up with a good family.”

  “Absolutely,” Shelly said. “I got a really good family.”

  “Were you always very tall?” Grace asked. “I mean, were you the tallest girl in your class when you were growing up? You’re nearly as tall as me.”

  “Yup,” Shelly said. “And I think, actually, I’m taller than you.” She looked at the top of Grace’s head, measuring. “The beach is slanted, and it’s hard to tell.”

  “Kids always teased me when I was young,” Grace said. “They said I looked like Olive Oyl. Did you get teased a lot?”

  “No, hardly at all. Daria wouldn’t let anybody tease me.”

  “Daria is her sister,” Rory explained, in case she’d forgotten.

  Grace nodded. “Yes. The one who found her…found Shelly.”

  “She’s Supergirl,” Shelly said.

  “You mean…because she saved you?” Grace asked.

  “Me and a lot of other people. She’s an EMT. Well, she was, anyhow.”

  “She sounds like an amazing person,” Grace said. “I’m so glad she’s taken such good care of you.”

  Rory was beginning to feel superfluous to the conversation, but he didn’t mind. He was taking mental notes, trying to ascertain from Grace’s questions what aspects of Shelly’s life would be of interest to his viewers.

  “Rory said you make necklaces out of shells,” Grace said.

  “Not just necklaces,” Shelly said. “All kinds of jewelry.”

  “I’d like to see your jewelry sometime,” Grace said.

  This was Grace’s natural style, Rory thought: passionate interest in others. He liked that about her very much. He wondered if she would be able to draw Zack out with her questions, the way she was doing with Shelly.

  “You know,” Grace began slowly, “sometimes when babies have a rough start in life, as you did, they develop health problems. Do you have any special health problems?”

  The question struck Rory as odd. Intrusive and leading. Was she trying to get Shelly to admit to the brain damage? What on earth was Grace’s purpose in that?

  But Shelly did not seem the least bit put off by the question. In fact, she embraced it.

  “Yeah, actually, I do,” she said, a look of surprise on her face. “How did you know that?” She looked at Rory. “She’s really smart,” she said, nodding toward Grace, who wore a tight smile.

  “I guess she is,” Rory said.

  “I get seizures,” Shelly said. “Do you think it’s because I was left on the beach?”

  Grace touched her arm in comfort, and Rory was moved by the gesture. It seemed as if it had been the right question to ask, after all, and he thought that Grace was an amazing woman. Intuitive, curious and kind. Why on earth would her husband have left her? Of course, he didn’t know if that was the way it had happened. And anyway, Glorianne had left him.

  “Perhaps, but not necessarily,” Grace answered Shelly’s question. “Some people are born with that problem. You probably would have the seizures whether your mother left you on the beach or not. How often do you have them?”

  “Not very often,” Shelly said. “But I’ve never gone a year without one, so I can’t drive. Which is annoying.” Shelly made a face. “Daria or somebody has to drive me everywhere. Although I walk a lot. I can walk to St. Esther’s if the weather’s not too bad. Anyhow, I take medicine, and that helps me not have them as much.”

  “Rory told me he wants to tell your story on his TV show. What do you think about that?”

  “I think it is extremely cool,” Shelly said, grinning. Then she instantly sobered as she looked at Grace’s shoulders. “Your shoulders are burning,” she said.

  Rory saw she was right. The skin next to Grace’s green sundress was turning pink. “We’d better go back,” he said. “Or you’ll be sore tonight.”

  They stopped walking and Grace glanced at her shoulder, scowling.

  “You have to start out really slow getting a tan in the summer,” Shelly advised. “And use lots of 15.”

  “Thanks.” Grace smiled at her. She looked up at the sun, as if wishing it might go away. Then she sighed. “Yes, I guess we’d better go back.”

  “I’m going to keep walking for a while,” Shelly said. “It was nice meeting you, Grace.”

  “And you, too, Shelly,” Grace said. She watched as Shelly took off down the beach, then began walking next to Rory.

  “What a delightful young woman!” Grace beamed.

  “You were great with her,” Rory said.

  Grace looked surprised by the compliment. “I just talked to her, that’s all. She’s quite easy to talk with. I see what you mean about her being…ingenuous. Someone could take advantage of her way too easily.”

  “And I don’t want to do that,” Rory said, instantly
defensive.

  “Oh, I wasn’t suggesting you would.”

  “Sorry. I’m a little sensitive about it because Daria thinks I shouldn’t delve into Shelly’s past. But Shelly wants me to. You can tell that, can’t you?”

  “Yes, she does,” Grace said slowly. “But maybe she doesn’t know what’s best for her.”

  They walked in silence for a while, and Rory wondered how Zack would respond to all of Grace’s questions.

  “Would you like to go out to dinner with my son and me tonight?” he asked as they climbed over the diminutive dune to the cul-de-sac.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said, “but I have to work.”

  Although she seemed far stronger today than she had the first time he’d met her on the beach, she was once again tremulous as he walked her to her car in his driveway.

  “Do you need a glass of water or anything before you go?” he asked.

  “No, thank you.”

  “You seem shaky all of a sudden,” he said.

  “I just…” Grace looked toward the cul-de-sac as she got into the driver’s seat. “I guess I’m just thinking about Shelly. I feel sorry for her. For what she’s been through.”

  Rory nodded. “I know,” he said. “She’s had a good life with the Cato family, but I still get angry every time I think about that woman who abandoned her on the beach. Shelly came—” he held his thumb and forefinger a quarter of an inch apart “—this close to dying.”

  Grace stared through her car window toward the beach. “Maybe you shouldn’t be too quick to pass judgment on that woman without knowing the circumstances, Rory,” she said. “Who knows what she was going through?”

  16

  DARIA SAT ON THE BEACH UNDER AN UMBRELLA SATURDAY afternoon. The beach was crowded, but she’d managed to find a small patch of sand near the sea oats for herself. She was reading an architectural magazine—or at least she was trying to. Guilt was taunting her, sapping her concentration. Her old Emergency Medical Services supervisor had called her that morning, telling her they were desperately short-staffed, begging her to come in. They must think I’m being stubborn, she thought. They didn’t know it was fear and shame that kept her from climbing into the back of an ambulance and rushing off to the scene of an accident.

  “Let’s go crabbing.” The voice came from behind her, and she turned to see Rory approach her chair. He had on a gold T-shirt, black shorts and a straw hat that made her laugh.

  “Crabbing?” she asked. “I don’t think I’ve done that since we were kids.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Rory said. “We spent half our time crabbing back then, and I didn’t even like the way crabs tasted. But I do now, so how about it? I even got some bait in anticipation of you saying yes.”

  Daria thought of the old crab net and traps gathering dust in the Sea Shanty’s storage shed. She looked up at him. “You deserted me back then, do you know that?”

  “Deserted you?” He looked like Huck Finn in that straw hat.

  “Yeah. You dumped me for the older kids.”

  Rory studied the horizon, as though pondering what she’d said. “Yeah, I guess I did. I remember that hanging around you began to seem like a liability, ’cause I was trying to fit into a different group. Never did succeed, anyhow.” He smiled at her. “Sorry.”

  “You’re forgiven.” She stood up, deciding to leave her chair and umbrella right where they were. “Let’s go crabbing,” she said.

  “Great! Should we drive?”

  “How about bike?” she suggested. She knew that he and Zack had rented bicycles for the summer, and she had one of her own.

  Rory got the bait from his cottage, while Daria gathered the old equipment from the storage shed. She met him in the cul-de-sac, where they split the equipment between her bike and his, and they set off across Kill Devil Hills for the soundside pier.

  She rode behind him, trying to focus on the cars instead of the way he looked on his bike. They’d had a few conversations over the past few days—on the beach and at the Sea Shanty and once at the athletic club—and every conversation had the same focus: Grace or Zack. Rory had seen Grace several times now, and Daria wondered how far that relationship had gone. He talked about being enamored of her, but not about the intimate details Daria both longed to know and hated to imagine. She’d met his adorable son, Zack, who looked so much like Rory at that age that she’d had a hard time looking him straight in the eye. While riding on her bike behind Rory’s, she had to admit that she had herself one more good male friend. Great.

  The pier was remarkably empty for the time of year, but the day was so splendid, that Daria imagined everyone was at the beach. They carried their equipment to the end of the pier, put a fish head in the trap and lowered the trap into the water. Rory tied a second fish head to a string and dropped it over the side of the pier. He wiped his hands on a rag with a grimace. “Been a while since I’ve had fish head on my hands,” he said.

  “You might as well just give in to it,” she said. “No way you can crab all afternoon and not go home smelling like the sound.”

  He sat next to her on the pier, their legs dangling above the water. The sound was littered with Hobie Cats and waverunners and windsurfers, and in the distance, a parasail soared above the water.

  “Weird,” Rory said. “For a minute, I felt like I was a kid again, sitting here with you. Then I looked down at our legs and saw these grown-up legs and it gave me a jolt.”

  She smiled. So he’d looked at her legs and seen grown-up legs, nothing more. She guessed he preferred Grace’s long white legs to the tanned, muscular ones she possessed.

  Rory had a beach bag with him, and he opened it and handed her a can of Coke.

  “Thanks.” She took the can from him and popped it open.

  “So,” Rory said after taking a swallow of the soda, “What do you remember about the morning you found Shelly?”

  Daria felt a deep disappointment. In the conversations they’d had over the past week or so, Rory had not brought up this topic, and she’d been pleased that he seemed to be letting it go. Now she felt betrayed. Was this why he wanted to spend time with her today? To pick her brain about Shelly for his show?

  “I don’t want to help you with this, Rory,” she said. “You know I’m not happy that you’re looking into the story. I think it’s a big mistake.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “I was just making conversation,” he said.

  “You were not.”

  “Was too. I was just remembering how you became Supergirl. An eleven-year-old hero. I didn’t know any other kid, myself included, who could have picked up a blood-covered baby and carried it home. I would have run home and gotten my mother. And by that time, the baby probably would have been dead.”

  She felt as though she’d been a bit harsh with him and decided to open up, if only a little. “Finding Shelly changed my life,” she said. “In a whole lot of ways. I learned the facts of life overnight. I didn’t know what the placenta was—I was disgusted by it—but when my mother explained how the baby was nourished by it, it fascinated me. I decided then that I wanted to become a doctor, probably an obstetrician. It had been an amazing feeling, having that little life in my hands, and I wanted to experience that again.” Daria had not thought about this in a long time, not consciously, at any rate, but it seemed that the memory of carrying the newborn infant, when she had been little more than an infant herself, was still inside her after all these years.

  “So, what happened?” Rory asked. “Why didn’t you become a doctor?”

  “I really wanted to,” Daria said. “I was passionate about it. I took premed courses in college and everything. But Mom got sick. She had a fast-moving colon cancer. I quit and came home. Mom was terrified of dying, not because of dying itself, but because of leaving Shelly. She made me promise to take care of her, which was what I would have done, anyway. She told me I was like Shelly’s mother. She said it was me who truly gave her life, and it used to blow me
away to realize that if I hadn’t gone out on the beach that morning, Shelly would never have been part of our family. Mom always let me help with her. Shelly was so beautiful and so…spirited, right from the start. A real smiley baby. She brought joy back into our house. My mother had been going through a depression before I found Shelly. I didn’t realize it then, but of course I do now. Shelly brought her back to life.”

  “You sound as though you think there’s something almost…magical about her.”

  She smiled at him. “Don’t you?”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “She’s definitely out of the ordinary.”

  “But she needed a ton of supervision back then,” Daria said. “I know you think I’m exaggerating when I tell you she can easily be taken advantage of, but it’s true. Right before Mom died, Shelly was kidnapped by this guy who was preying on young girls in our neighborhood. She didn’t even realize she was in danger, just got out of the car when he stopped at a light. She knew she wasn’t supposed to go off with strangers, but the man told her he wasn’t a stranger, so she went with him.”

  “But, Daria, she was only eight then. We all did idiotic things when we were eight. You don’t have to protect her to that extent anymore.”

  “I’m aware of that,” she said defensively. “She still doesn’t have good judgment, though. Trust me on it.”

  Rory didn’t argue. He pulled up the string, looked at the untouched fish head and dropped it into the water again.

  “Didn’t you feel some resentment about having to take care of her, since it meant you had to give up your dream of being a doctor?” he asked.

  “None at all,” she said honestly. “I thought taking care of Shelly was my life’s calling, the way religious life was Chloe’s.” She remembered talking over her decision with Chloe back then. Chloe had cried; she’d wanted Daria to be able to finish school. Once Daria had reassured her that she was doing what she wanted to do in taking care of Shelly, Chloe seemed to accept her decision more readily. “I got more carpentry training. Do you remember how I used to make furniture with my father?”