The Summer Girls

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “Nate!” she called.

  “Oh, leave him be,” Mamaw called out to her. “He’s with Carson. He’ll be fine.”

  Dora swung her head around, startled to hear Mamaw’s voice. Dora was neatly dressed in a blue seersucker skirt and white embroidered linen blouse. She’d taken more care with her appearance, something that spoke volumes to Mamaw.

  “You look quite pretty this morning,” Mamaw told her.

  “He shouldn’t be out there on that dock,” Dora said anxiously, moving her hands to her hips. “He knows the rules.”

  “Oh, Dora, leave the boy be. He’s having a good time. And he’s in good hands. Carson swims like a fish. She won’t let anything happen to him. For heaven’s sake, child, take a moment for yourself and enjoy a cup of coffee. I don’t imagine you get many breaks early in the morning.”

  Dora shifted her gaze to her grandmother. Her face appeared conflicted, as though she wasn’t sure what she should do.

  “Go on and fetch some coffee and join me for a spell,” Mamaw told her, patting the chair beside her. “It’s my birthday. And I’d love a little company.”

  Dora looked back out at the dock, then turned to Mamaw. Her face slowly shifted from resignation to a hesitant smile. “All right,” she said, and walked back into the house.

  Mamaw took a final glance at the pair at the dock, locked in deep conversation. Good, she thought. That boy needed some time with his aunts. And Dora needed some time to herself.

  A few moments later Dora came out with a steaming mug and a smile on her face. Mamaw smiled brightly in return. Perhaps it was going to be a nice weekend after all.

  When Carson climbed onto the dock, she was surprised to see Nate sitting there with his legs folded staring out at the dolphin. He was such a skinny little kid, and he had the worst haircut. It was the old-fashioned bowl style; Dora had to have cut it herself, she thought, looking at the jagged, uneven edges. When the boy’s eyes shifted to her, Carson sensed nervousness, as though he feared her getting too close.

  “Why, hello, Nate. What are you doing here?”

  “Nothing,” he said, looking at the dock.

  In the distance they could hear Dora calling Nate’s name. The boy tensed and picked at a scab on his arm but did not answer her.

  “Didn’t you hear your mother calling?”

  Nate scowled but said nothing.

  “You should answer her. She might be worried.”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want her to come here because she will make the fish go away.”

  “The fish?” Carson paused. “Oh.” Nate meant the dolphin, which explained why he was here. “That’s not a fish, Nate. It’s a mammal. It’s called a dolphin. Come meet her.”

  Nate’s eyes appeared eager but tentative. Carson held out her hand, which he ignored. Instead he carefully stepped down to the floating dock and approached the edge. Delphine swam several yards away but circled back, curious as ever, making clicking noises.

  “The dolphin likes you,” Nate said.

  Carson smiled, feeling it was true. “I hope so. I like the dolphin.”

  “Does your dolphin have a name?”

  “She’s not my dolphin. She’s wild . . . But I do call her Delphine.”

  “Delphine,” Nate repeated. “That’s a good name.”

  Carson laughed and leaned forward to hug the boy, but Nate saw her coming and immediately stiffened. Remembering Dora’s warning, Carson caught herself and pulled back.

  Nate didn’t appear to notice her dilemma. He was engrossed with searching for Delphine, who had submerged and disappeared into the depths.

  “Where did she go?”

  Carson raised her hand over her eyes like a visor and searched the still water. A few minutes later she spotted Delphine far across the cove. “There she is,” she said to Nate, pointing. “Straight across. Wait, she dove again.” She saw Nate on his tiptoes, squinting. They watched as Delphine arched over the water, catching breaths, swimming farther away. After a few minutes, Carson couldn’t spot her any longer. “She’s gone. But don’t worry. She’ll be back.”

  “But I want to see her now.”

  Carson didn’t have much experience with children and demanding ones hit a nerve. “Well, kiddo, you can’t. She’s a wild animal. She comes and goes when she pleases. Speaking of which, it’s time for us to go. Come on.” She gave him a gentle nudge, then began to walk off. A small hand gently tapped her arm. She turned to see Nate chewing his lip and looking out at the water.

  “Can I see the dolphin again?”

  She saw his eyes—as eager as the dolphin’s—and empathized with his need to make contact with whatever it was the dolphin possessed that drew them both in like magic.

  “Sure,” she replied with a smile. “If she comes back. And I think she will. Maybe later today we can come back here together. Bring your life vest, and we’ll go for a swim. You do know how to swim, don’t you?”

  Nate nodded. Then he smiled, and it was like the sun coming out from behind a dark cloud.

  Later that morning the smell of bacon was wafting from the kitchen. Carson followed the scent, her stomach growling. The kitchen was empty but she saw a plate of crisp bacon and some of Lucille’s biscuits laid out under a glass bowl. She was reaching for them when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning her head, she saw Harper. Her face was pale and her eyes glassy, but she’d made the effort. Her hair was pulled back in a stubby ponytail and she was neatly dressed in slim madras Bermuda shorts, a white polo shirt, and clean white tennis shoes. Carson looked down at her own green T-shirt over torn denim shorts and thought Harper looked better outfitted for Nantucket than for Sullivan’s Island.

  “Good morning,” Carson said. “Going sailing?”

  Harper shook her head dully, missing the joke entirely.

  “Want some bacon?” Carson asked, taking a big, greasy, exaggerated bite.

  Harper visibly paled. “Ugh. Don’t mention food. Is there coffee left?”

  “I’ll get you a cup,” Carson said, piling bacon onto her plate now that she knew she didn’t have to share with Harper. She reached to open the cabinet and pulled out a large mug that bore the faded insignia of the Gamecocks. “A little too much tequila last night?”

  Harper shushed her, looking from left to right. “Keep it down. I don’t want Mamaw or Lucille to find out.” She took a slow sip of coffee. “I have no idea how much I drank. Someone was always putting a drink in front of me. It was bottomless . . .” She took a sip of coffee, then walked to the cabinet and prowled for a glass. Finding one, she filled it with water; then from her pocket, she retrieved two aspirin. “The breakfast of champions,” she muttered, and swallowed them down with a shudder.

  Carson laughed lightly, with more sympathy. “Sorry, sis. Didn’t mean for you to get hungover. I should’ve watched over you better. You’re a tiny thing.” She couldn’t help but snicker. “A lightweight.”

  “I don’t need you to watch over me, thank you very much. I can usually hold my own,” Harper said. “It’s just that it was a crazy day and I didn’t eat much.” She swallowed more water. “Let me guess. You can hold your liquor like a champ.”

  Carson grinned and slid a long piece of bacon into her mouth. “I feel right as rain.”

  “Great.”

  “While you were snoring away, I went to town and got us some fishing poles and lures. Sister mine, put on your sunscreen, ’cause we’re going fishing today.”

  Harper slanted a glance at her from under half-closed lids. “You’ve got to be kidding. Worms? Fish? Me? Not a chance.”

  Nate came into the room, followed by Dora. Carson felt a twinge of affection when she saw his blue eyes spark at seeing her.

  “Hey, squirt,” Carson said to him. “Want to go fishing?” she asked.

  “Fishing?” asked Dora with surprise. “I don’t remember anyone saying that was part of today’s agenda.”

 
“I wasn’t aware that there was an agenda,” Carson replied. As the eldest, Dora always assumed she was the one who should organize family events. And she had a naturally bossy nature.

  “But of course there is,” Dora said. “We have cocktails on the porch at five, for which we are all supposed to be in our dinner best so we can have our photograph taken,” she added.

  “Photograph? Oh, what a nice idea. I’ll get my cameras ready.”

  “You’re not taking the photo,” Dora said. “Mamaw hired a photographer.”

  Carson took offense. “Why would she hire someone? I’m a professional photographer. Tell her to cancel.”

  “She wants you in the photograph, not behind the camera,” Dora explained.

  “Hasn’t she ever heard of a timer? Where is she? I’ll talk to her.”

  Harper spoke up. “Let it go,” she told Carson. “Mamaw’s made her arrangements. I’m sure she was thinking of you.”

  “Harper’s right. Mamaw is having dinner catered so Lucille can relax and join us, too. She’s gone to a great deal of trouble planning everything.” She delivered a meaningful glance to Carson. “But no one said anything about fishing.”

  Mamaw came into the room with Lucille, her eyes gleaming. “It was meant to be a surprise, Dora. So please smile and try not to spoil it.” Mamaw brandished a red fishing rod and reel. “Look what I’ve found!” She stroked it gently before she turned to face Nate. “This was your great-grandfather Edward’s fishing rod. He loved fishing and had several, of course. But he used this one almost exclusively at the end. It was his favorite. I know it would have given him great pleasure to teach you to fish. Since he isn’t here, I’m giving it to you, his only great-grandson. I hope you catch as many fish out there on that dock as he did.”

  Mamaw handed the rod to him with a dramatic flourish. Carson could see that this moment meant a great deal to her.

  In contrast, Nate reflected no emotion at all. He accepted the rod into his arms and looked at it dispassionately.

  Dora came to stand beside him, a grin stiff on her face. “Isn’t that wonderful! Say thank you to Mamaw,” she told him.

  Still looking at the rod, Nate complied and said flatly, “Thank you.”

  “It’s a lovely gift,” Dora said, her voice high with enthusiasm. “Thank you so much, Mamaw. He loves it.”

  Mamaw’s face fell slightly at Nate’s lackluster reaction, but she rallied and offered Dora a faint smile. “I hope he enjoys it.”

  “Oh, he will!” Dora exclaimed. “Won’t you, Nate?”

  Nate did not reply. He lowered the rod and shifted uncomfortably under the attention.

  Carson saw Harper leaning against the counter, studying the boy silently. Dora’s determination to be enthusiastic over Mamaw’s thoughtfulness was hard to witness and Carson felt a sudden empathy for her.

  “You know, Nate,” Carson said in an even voice, “that is a very good rod. Once you start fishing, you’ll love it. Guaranteed.”

  “I don’t know how to fish,” he said with little emotion. “My father knows how to fish but he never taught me. He said I wasn’t old enough and too clumsy.”

  Carson shot a glance at Dora to see her face twist in sorrow. Carson cursed Cal for being too damn lazy or uncaring to take his nine-year-old son fishing.

  “Nah, you’re the perfect age to learn,” Carson said. “Did you know that Granddaddy taught me when I was even younger than you? We used to sit right out there on the dock and fish for red drum, flounder, all kinds of fish. Then we’d clean them and Lucille would cook them up and serve them swimming in butter with a little lemon and parsley. Remember, Mamaw?”

  Mamaw’s eyes warmed at the memory. “Your great-granddaddy is in heaven now, Nate, so it seems only fair that we teach you.”

  “What do you say?” Carson asked.

  “Say?” Nate asked, not understanding the idiom.

  “Do you want us to teach you how to fish?” Carson explained.

  “No.”

  “Oh,” Carson said, deflated.

  “I want you to teach me how to play with the dolphin.”

  “Dolphin?” asked Dora. “What dolphin?”

  Carson groaned inwardly. She wasn’t prepared to share Delphine with anyone.

  “The dolphin that comes to the dock,” Nate answered in his matter-of-fact manner. “It’s Aunt Carson’s dolphin.”

  Dora looked at her with confusion. “Your dolphin?”

  “No, of course not. It’s just a wild dolphin that sometimes comes by the dock.”

  “Her dolphin has a name,” Nate said. “She calls it Delphine. That is a very good name. Delphine plays with Aunt Carson,” Nate informed them with conviction.

  Carson looked around the room to see all eyes glued to her. She sighed. “It’s a long story. If you want to hear it, come down to the dock. Fishing is a slow sport and we’ll have lots of time to yak.”

  The afternoon proved to be an enormous success. Mamaw passed out large floppy hats and suntan lotion and Lucille packed a picnic lunch of curried chicken sandwiches on whole wheat bread, pickles, tangerines, homemade oatmeal cookies, and plenty of iced sweet tea. Dora prepared Nate his own picnic of accepted food, which he ate without complaint. The women feasted under the shade of the dock’s roof, then began the great fishing venture.

  At first there was a lackluster response from Harper. She relayed a litany of excuses—how she didn’t sit in the sun, how she needed to catch up on work, had e-mails to answer. But Mamaw cajoled her to bring her laptop out on the dock, where she could sit in the shade. Harper obliged and settled under the roof of the dock with her iPad. Meanwhile, Mamaw set bait and helped Nate and Dora cast from the dock.

  Carson brought out her camera and it felt good to take her first photographs since leaving Los Angeles. Behind the lens of a camera, Carson was able to catch glimpses of her family in close-up, details of their personalities often missed by the naked eye.

  She noticed that Harper was skilled at being invisible. While “the little mouse” stayed quiet and tucked away in the corner, people forgot she was there, which allowed her to observe private moments. Her fingers were always tapping at her computer or phone. Carson wondered if she was writing wry vignettes to her mother, something along the lines of “Amusing Tales from the South.” Or “Redneck Riviera.”

  Little Nate was very intense about everything he did. Every photo showed him with his brow furrowed and his gaze sharp as Mamaw taught him how to set the bait, cast, reel in. To his credit, Nate observed silently, no matter how long Mamaw took to explain things—and she could get long-winded. When it was his turn to try, his little fingers were nimble.

  Dora, in contrast, did not engage. She hovered near Nate, whether out of worry or habit Carson couldn’t be sure. She held her fishing rod in a listless fashion, leaning against the railing and gazing off at the sea. In a close-up shot, Carson caught Dora’s beautiful blue eyes swimming in tears.

  By midafternoon, the sun was high and the fish weren’t biting. Not that anyone really cared. Carson had slipped a bit of Firefly sweet-tea vodka into the iced tea to give it a little kick and help loosen the tongues. It worked. As Carson set aside her camera, Harper set aside her iPad and the ladies talked amiably about safe subjects such as movies, recipes, happy memories. Only Nate remained relentlessly alert at the pole. Occasionally Carson would hop up to help him cast again, or Dora would reapply suntan lotion on his arms and face.

  Suddenly, Mamaw yelped and jerked back her rod. “I got one!”

  In a chorus of cheers, everyone leaped to join her. Giddy with her good luck, and perhaps a bit less surefooted from her “tea,” Mamaw hooted while the girls laughed and whistled. Carson leaped for her camera to capture Mamaw’s comical struggle. Mamaw finally reeled in the smallest red drum Carson had ever seen.

  Dora laughed at the sight of it dangling from the line. “Sure was a lot of fight for such a puny fish.”

  “Hey,” said Carson defensively. “It’s the
only fish we caught!”

  “Well, take a picture of my prize,” Mamaw said, holding the little fish proudly in the air. “Before I toss it back in.”

  Nate was a hound on the scent, close at Mamaw’s side as she grabbed a pair of pliers.

  Carson wasn’t sure Mamaw wasn’t too woozy to wield the pliers and stepped in, but Mamaw indignantly waved her aside.

  “I’ve been fishing since before you were even a glimmer in your father’s eye. Now, stand back.” She grabbed hold of the fish and deftly removed the hook. “Nate, honey, do you want to do the honors and toss this puny fish back into the water?”

  “Yes,” Nate replied in a voice husky with fear and excitement. To his credit, he reached out with both hands and clasped the fish tightly. It wiggled but Nate held on as he walked to the front of the dock with his arms held stiffly before him.

  Carson followed him, hoping he didn’t squeeze the fish to death before he released it. Looking over the railing, she was surprised to see Delphine, her mouth open and her gaze on Nate holding the fish over the water.

  “Don’t feed the dolphin!” she cried out, but it was too late. Nate released the fish.

  In a flash, Delphine leaped to catch the fish adeptly in her mouth. She tossed it in the air, caught it again, and dove, disappearing with her treasure.

  Nate burst out in a high-pitched laugh of delight. He leaned far over the railing on tiptoe, beaming, as he searched for signs of Delphine. Dora put her hands to her lips, eyes wide in amazement at the sight of her son’s joy. This was the first time she’d seen Nate smile all weekend.

  Delphine positioned herself beneath the dock and made a series of staccato, nasal calls to an appreciative audience.

  Harper sat at the dock’s edge dangling her feet in the water. Despite generous lotion and her floppy hat, her skin was turning pink. “I think she wants more fish!”

  “She’s begging,” Carson said with disapproval, looking down at the dolphin and shaking her head. “She must’ve been fed fish before. That explains why she’s so friendly. Oh, stop it,” she called out to Delphine. “Ladies don’t beg!”