by Karen White
Still, she turned the pages carefully, not wanting to accidentally tear one or bend a page, her patience rewarded in the very center of the book with a short line, written in the man’s handwriting. Sir Francis Bacon said it best: It is impossible to love and be wise.
The doorbell rang, ending Emmy’s time-traveling, leaving her confused for a moment as she regained her bearings. Glancing out the front window, she spotted a golf cart, then recognized Heath’s outline in the leaded glass of the front doors. She had a fleeting thought of pretending she wasn’t there so she could go back to her books and their secrets, but realized he’d already seen her car in the driveway and the lights she’d turned on inside the house.
She opened the door and stood in the middle of the doorway, blocking his view of the mess behind her. “Hi, Heath. Thought you’d be dancing.”
“I thought so, too, until Lizzie told me you’d gone home. Figured I could make you reconsider.”
Emmy shook her head. “Only if you want broken toes. I’m a terrible dancer.” She waited for him to admit he’d given it his best try and leave. Instead, he smiled at her, an odd glint in his eye.
“I knew you were going to say that. That’s why I came prepared with an alternative. The Perseids are visible tonight. There’s going to be some cloud cover but we’ll still get a pretty cool show. I bet Frank that you haven’t been over to the east end of the island yet, so I figured we could kill two birds with one stone tonight.”
“I’m kind of . . . busy,” she said, unwilling to tell him what she’d been doing, somehow knowing he’d disapprove.
“With what?”
She frowned. “I’m organizing your books. It’s a huge mess in the living room, and I’m trying to finish so I can walk in a straight line again.”
“You’re finding more messages, aren’t you?”
She knew it would be pointless to lie. “Some.”
“They’ll still be there when you get back, won’t they?” He leaned a hand on the doorframe, as if he was prepared to wait a while.
“Yes, but . . .”
He grabbed her arm. “Then come with me. I promise to only keep you out for a little while.”
“Wait. I’ve got to shut the back doors.”
A slow smile crossed his face. “You’re liking the smell of the pluff mud, aren’t you? Unless you’re a native, most people can’t stand it. Must be a sign.”
She frowned, then went inside to close the doors and grab her keys, not pausing long enough to wonder how he’d manipulated her. With a last look at the books and her laptop, she closed the door and locked it behind her.
As they drove down the nearly deserted East Ashley, Heath turned to her. “Why do you always frown when you see me?”
She thought for a moment, realizing that he was right. “I don’t really know. Maybe because you seem to always be okay with the world around you, despite the fact that I know you know better. Like you’re one of those eternal optimists or something.”
“An eternal optimist?”
“Yes. You’re one of those people who always thinks good will come out of every situation, regardless of how bad it is.” She thought for a moment, then asked, “Glass half filled with water?”
“Half full.”
“A rainy day?”
“Great excuse for sleeping in and reading in bed all morning.”
“A hole in your pants?”
“Time to go shopping.”
She paused for a moment. “Losing someone you love.”
He didn’t answer right away, and kept his gaze focused on the street in front of them. “Feeling lucky enough to have had that person in your life, and to have known love at all.”
Emmy turned away, forcing breath into her lungs. He had no idea; he couldn’t know that sometimes she wished she hadn’t been working the day Ben walked into her mother’s store. That loving Ben had been the best part of her life, and losing him was far worse than never having known him. Before she could pull the words back she blurted, “What about Jolene?”
He remained silent, navigating the golf cart to the end of the street, where he parked it near the beach access. He stopped the motor and sat back. “I’m not going to answer that right now because you’re in a snit. You’re upset because I’m not like everybody else who leaves you alone to wallow in your misery. Life’s too short, Emmy. Believe me, I know.”
He hopped out of the golf cart and retrieved two lawn chairs from the backseat. Emmy crossed her arms, more angry than she wanted to admit. “And having cancer suddenly makes you an expert on life.”
Leaning on the chairs, he met her eyes, not showing surprise that she knew. He was probably used to his mother and sister sharing his life with others. “Yeah, it does. Now come on. They close this part of the beach at eight o’clock, and I’m not in the mood to be arrested for trespassing.”
“I want to go home.”
“No, you don’t. You wanted to see the Perseids.”
He began walking away from her, and not knowing what else to do, she hopped from the cart and ran to catch up, the thick sand still warm under her feet and slowing her down.
“I don’t even know what they are,” she said, panting. “Please take me home.”
He stopped to face her, his eyes serious. “Every year in August, the Earth passes through rock and dust fragments left behind by a comet. As these rocks and fragments collide with the Earth’s atmosphere, they burn up, creating a bright streak of light across the sky.” He paused as if waiting for her to say something, but all she could do was stare at him and wonder why he couldn’t see that she was a ghost and not really there at all.
He continued. “So you see? Your life isn’t over. You’re about to see something wonderful that you’ve never seen before. The Perseids have always been there, every August up in the sky, since long before you were born, and they will be there long after you’re gone. Doesn’t that make you feel like you’re part of this universe? Part of a story that hasn’t been told yet?”
The wind shifted the hair off his forehead, revealing the scar that glowed white against his tan and the fine lines around the eyes that showed he was a man who laughed a lot. Who saw a hole in his pants as a reason to go shopping.
“Fine,” she said, not really knowing why, while also knowing that if she’d really wanted him to take her back, he would have.
He smiled broadly, his teeth glowing in the dimming light. “Great. Let’s walk quickly so we can see where we’re setting up our chairs.”
She followed him down a path that was part deteriorated road and part sand through scrubby grass and bushes, stumbling over rocks in the dimness. On their left, they passed the graffiti-covered remains of the foundations of buildings. “What’s that?”
Heath didn’t slow down, apparently eager to get to where he was heading. “Old coast guard long-range navigation station. Built around nineteen forty-five, I think. Was active through nineteen eighty but pretty much made obsolete by sonar. Now teens just use the area to make out and have a few beers.”
Emmy stepped over a beer bottle and found herself wondering if Heath had ever been one of those teens. She started jogging to catch up, panting heavily with her dress sticking to her back, until the path ended on a rise, the wide expanse of beach and the Atlantic Ocean in front of them. Rocky groins stuck out like muscled arms into the water, while looming above them, the Morris Island lighthouse rose over the waves that slapped at it on all sides. She stopped while Heath kept going, the view of the defunct beacon as it stood in lonely isolation unsettling her somehow. The skin at the back of her neck began to prick, rising as if it had been brushed by a goose feather. She continued to stare as the sun began its descent, the sky already darkened by the growing cloud cover. Hurrying to catch up with Heath, she tried to shake the unsettled feeling she’d had.
Sparse groups of people dotted the beach, apparently planning to watch the meteors, and Heath headed toward a spot away from the others. He had already set up the two
chairs and was motioning to her when the sky lit up with a shooting arc of light, quickly followed by another and another, making the sky blush in shades of gray and white. Ribbons of white light continued to illuminate the sky in rapid succession like a congregation of silent lightning bolts, reflecting off the swaying waves as they touched the shore and danced with the meteors.
Forcing her gaze from the sky so she could find her way to her chair, Emmy sat down and tilted her head back to stare upward. They sat like that for a long while, not speaking, taking in the cosmic light show as if it were being performed for their sole benefit. Eventually, she lowered her head because her neck had begun to hurt, and she realized that her face hurt, too, as if she’d been grinning for a long time.
“Pretty cool, huh?” His words held a smile.
“Why are they called the Perseids?”
“Because it appears as if they’re coming out of the Perseus constellation, but they’re actually only about one hundred miles from earth. And I’m sure you remember the story of Perseus and his love for Andromeda.”
She did, but she enjoyed listening to him talk. She usually found herself alone in the evenings, and it occurred to her that she was probably starving for human companionship. “Tell me,” she said.
“Perseus sets out to free Andromeda, the virgin who was chained to the rock to be devoured by Cetus, the whale. Before Cetus can eat his dinner, Perseus arrives with the head of Medusa in hand and shows the head to Cetus. On seeing Medusa, Cetus is turned into stone, leaving Perseus to marry Andromeda, and they live happily ever after.”
Emmy shuddered, thinking of being turned to stone. “That’s a harsh punishment for only wanting a meal.”
“One of the worst, for sure,” he said, watching her, his face serious.
She squirmed a little in her chair and looked back at the sky, eager to change the subject. “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe I’ve never bothered to notice them before. How come you’re so familiar with them?”
He didn’t answer right away. “I spend a lot of time outdoors, especially at night during the summers. There’s a lot you can learn about the world and life in general just by being outside. A lot more than you can with your nose stuck in a book.”
“My nose isn’t always stuck in a book. I do other things.” She paused, her mind scrambling, knowing that going through a room of books looking for hidden messages wasn’t what he was looking for. “Like running Folly’s Finds. We’re starting a children’s reading corner, you know. And I . . .” She thought for a moment. “I walk. Sometimes I’ll walk around downtown Folly during my lunch break. But not for too long because then I’ll get too sweaty to go back to work.”
He stared at her without speaking for a long moment. “That’s pathetic. You’re so near to the beach, you should start running every morning. It clears the mind, and it’s good for your heart. You’d get to find sea glass and cockleshells before the crowds show up.”
“What’s sea glass?”
“Come running with me and I’ll show you. You can work on your tan while you’re at it.”
She turned away from him, frowning. “I like my skin a healthy white, thank you. I’ll let you know about the running—but don’t hold your breath.”
“You do that.”
They settled back into their chairs as the night glowed all around them, the background music of the ocean lulling her into an almost doze. She turned her head to face him, her curiosity erasing all filters once again. “How long have you been cancer-free?”
“Nine months, two weeks, and five days. So far so good.”
His face was turned toward her but she couldn’t see his eyes in the shadows. “Do you ever worry about it coming back?”
He didn’t hesitate before answering. “No. I think worrying is a lot like chewing gum. Eventually it runs out of taste, and you’ve got to spit it out.”
She laughed, then covered her mouth, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I just . . . Well, I can’t believe you’d compare chewing gum to cancer.”
“No, I was comparing worrying and chewing gum. I figure if I take care of myself and get my checkups like my doctors say, then I’m doing all I can to stay well. There’s nothing else I can do, and worrying won’t help. I figure each day I have is sort of like a bonus, so I might as well enjoy each one.”
The silence between them lay heavy, full of light and sand and water, threaded with loss, longing and regret. She’d once greeted each day with hope. But that Emmy was a ghost now, haunting her now with a dogged persistence, and she wasn’t sure how to exorcise her. Or what permanent part of herself she’d lose if she did.
Tilting her head back, she stared up at the sky, pulsing like a heartbeat, and she tried to remember the last time she’d examined the world around her, realizing with a start that it had been long before she’d even met Ben. Sometime when she was still a girl, when she knew her mother saw only something she could lose whenever she looked at Emmy. She’d found her books to be her refuge, and in many ways, she supposed, she still did. They would never leave her, and she took no small comfort in that.
She threw a sidelong glance at Heath, mildly irritated with him for shaking up her equilibrium and with herself for allowing him to.
“I read your note in the bottle tree.”
He turned his head to look at her. “I know. That’s why I took it out.”
“Did you expect Jolene to see it and answer it?”
Shrugging, he said, “Not really. It was Aunt Lulu’s idea. She said that when she was little, she used to leave notes for a friend who’d moved away, even though she knew the friend would never see them. She said it brought peace to her soul—like sending a prayer directly to heaven—and I figured that’s pretty much what I needed.”
Emmy shook her head. “Your aunt Lulu is like Jekyll and Hyde. She’ll give me so many reasons to dislike her, and then, wham, I hear something like that, and I can almost begin to understand why people love her enough to hug her and invite her to family gatherings.”
His soft laugh carried to her in the night air. “Don’t be so judgmental. She’s had a hard life with lots of losses. But she’s one of the strongest people I know. She’s still standing and thriving despite it all.”
Emmy threw a sharp glance at him, wondering if his words were meant to inspire her, as if he knew anything about her. She was about to let him know that she was just fine without him playing Freud when he spoke again.
“Maybe I’ll teach you how to shag.”
“Excuse me?”
“Shag. The South Carolina state dance. They call it a warm night with a cold beer and a hot date.” He winked and waggled his eyebrows. “During the forties and fifties and even part of the sixties, the Folly Beach pier was the place to be. We had all the major performers—Glenn Miller, Tommy Dorsey, the Drifters. Big names. And where the Holiday Inn is now, there was a pavilion with an arcade and concessions, and next to that was Folly’s Playground—the real thing, not a coffee shop—which was set up every spring and had a large Ferris wheel.”
Emmy closed her eyes, seeing it all so clearly as if in a black-and-white photograph, the sound of big-band music hidden beneath the crash of waves against the shore. “What happened to it all?”
“Two fires—one in nineteen fifty-seven and the last in nineteen seventy-seven. But by then the playground was long gone, and the crowds had been staying away for a while. They rebuilt the pier and then built the hotel in nineteen eighty-five. Some even called that progress.” He smiled as he turned to her. “But they still dance on the pier in the summertime.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I’ll just watch.”
“It’s not as much fun, trust me.”
She gave a short laugh, then tilted her head back to watch the light show, her gaze straying to the lighthouse, which stood out in relief against the glowing sky. “Have you ever been inside the lighthouse?”
“When I was a kid. You’re not supposed to, but you know how kids are. It’s pr
etty cool up there. You can see all the way over to Sullivan’s Island. There’s a foundation now raising money for its restoration. There’s actually a little mini-lighthouse replica near where we parked. You can pick up some information about the light’s history and the foundation on the way out.”
She nodded, focusing on the lighthouse again. “How do you get there—swim?”
“No, definitely not. These are some of the toughest currents around Folly. It’s a strict no-swimming zone, but you occasionally hear about people drowning. Either they were stupid enough to wade out into the surf, or maybe they fell off one of the large rock groins. I don’t even like taking my boat out there, and I wouldn’t recommend it for beginners.”
He stood and looked around, then glanced down at her. “It’s almost eight o’clock—we should get going. I’m sure you’ve got books to go through back at the house.”
She stood, too, and they both folded up their chairs. Heath took hers to carry, and they began walking back the way they’d come, the Perseids continuing to light the sky around them.
They were almost back to the road before Heath spoke again. “I almost forgot. I think I might have found out who your Peter is.”
She stopped to look at him and he stopped, too. “Peter—as in Lulu’s and Maggie’s friend?”
“I think so. I own the lot where Maggie’s house stood—Lulu deeded it to me some years ago, and I’m still trying to decide what to do with it. Anyway, I was going through some of my papers the other day, looking for something, and I came upon all the paperwork for the house, going back to when it was built at the beginning of the last century. While flipping through them, I found a sales transaction from May, nineteen forty-three where Maggie O’Shea sold the house to a Peter Nowak. For ten dollars.”
