A rush of memories flooded Mamaw’s mind—the nursing, the companionship, the steady encouragement, the exhausting hours, and, finally, the unutterable grief. She knew what was coming. She comprehended fully what Lucille was asking of her.
Mamaw nodded almost imperceptibly. “I will. You know I will.”
“And be strong for the girls.”
“The girls,” Mamaw said, suddenly remembering them. “When are you going to tell them? They’ll be devastated. They love you so much.”
“I was hoping I wouldn’t have to tell them. I didn’t want to ruin their summer with this sorry business. I figured they’ll all be leaving at summer’s end, flying off like the shorebirds to wherever their lives take them. I hoped I’d just be like one of them. Flying off. No fuss.”
“Flying off and leaving me alone!”
“I know that. But it don’t change things, does it? You’ve got your plans, and now I’ve got mine.”
Mamaw brought her trembling hand to her eyes. “Lucille . . .”
“I’m not afraid to go,” Lucille said in a peaceful tone. “Seeing those manacles made it right clear in my mind. We’re all shackled to this life for the duration. We carry our load. Looking back, I’ve lived a good life. I’ve no regrets. Way I see it, it’s my time to cross the water. I like to think I’ll face the crossing with the same courage of my ancestors.” She looked up and smiled. “I’m gonna be set free.”
Mamaw tightened her lips.
“I’m only afraid of one thing,” Lucille said in a soft voice, looking at the bag of medicine in her lap.
“What’s that?”
Lucille lifted the bag. “The pain. They give me all these pills. But they’re not working so good no more. The cancer’s taken a turn. The time for all this hospital rigmarole is done.” She shook her head resolutely. “I don’t want no treatments. I know that. But . . . I don’t want to face this alone.”
Mamaw looked into Lucille’s dark, watery eyes. They bulged slightly, unblinking against a chalky face. Mamaw saw a ghostly image of what was coming. She grasped Lucille’s hand and held it tight. “I’ll be right here, sitting by your side all the way. You won’t be alone.”
Lucille’s lips quivered and she held tight to Mamaw’s hand. “That’s all I needed to know.”
Chapter Nineteen
Carson crossed the Ben Sawyer Bridge over the Intracoastal Waterway as dusk settled over the lowcountry. The water shimmered in dusky twilight pinks, and bordering the banks, thick rows of palms formed dark shadows.
She turned off the air-conditioning, rolled down the windows, and let the sultry air flow into the stale car. She breathed deep the scents of mud and salt, raking her hand through her hair, loosening the elastic, and letting her hair catch the wind. She was nearing home.
When she’d arrived at Sea Breeze the previous May without a job or a place to live, she’d thought that she’d hit rock bottom. She’d been penniless and adrift. In retrospect, compared to how she felt now, that seemed like a cakewalk.
During the long trip home from the Keys, Nate had mostly slept, exhausted from his busy week, and she had plenty of time to think about the new life growing inside of her. She vacillated between benign curiosity, idly tapping her belly like a cat playing with a bug, and abject terror of an alien life growing inside of her. She had to first decide whether to tell Blake. Part of her wanted to make her decisions without involving him. It wasn’t his body, after all.
Despite her independence, however, it felt selfish, even wrong, not to tell him. Blake wasn’t a one-night stand. He was someone she had a relationship with, someone she cared deeply for. Someone she might even love. The father of this unborn child. Didn’t he have the right to know?
She’d always been self-reliant. She’d spent most of her youth taking care of her father; she’d been more a maid than a daughter. When she turned eighteen she’d left to live alone, existing hand to mouth most of the time. She was not accustomed even to accepting help, let alone asking for it.
Carson ran her hand through her hair, weary and bleary-eyed. She’d been going over and over this issue in her head for twelve hours and was no closer to a decision. All she knew for certain was that she was exhausted and thirsty, and needed to pee. And that this fetus inside of her felt like an uninvited guest.
She glanced in the rearview mirror at the young boy sleeping in the backseat, strapped in by his seat belt. His head hung loosely to the side and his mouth was open; he was snoring gently. Her heart pinged with affection as tears filled her eyes. She loved that little boy and knew he loved her, in his own way. In retrospect, she had truly enjoyed being with Nate, taking care of him, watching him mature. Would she have these feelings for her own child? Could she be a good mother?
Glancing at the road, Carson saw she was nearing the turnoff for Sea Breeze. Her hands clenched the wheel and her heart rate shot up as her base instincts reared. All she wanted to do was to drop off Nate, then put the pedal to the metal and roar out of the driveway. To keep on driving. To run far, far away.
The following evening, Carson was sitting at the wood table in Blake’s apartment staring at a plate of shrimp and grits. It was a hot and humid night heralding the oncoming storm, but he’d slaved over the stove to prepare the meal for her homecoming. Thunder rumbled and the ceiling fan over the table was causing the tapered candles to drip wax onto the tablecloth.
Across the table from her, Blake was looking anxiously at her face. Shrimp and grits was her favorite dish but she couldn’t eat. She’d managed a few bites of the grits but the rich, buttery sauce was too much for her. Just the smell of seafood made her feel sick. More than the smells, however, the news she had to share had her stomach tied in knots.
Hobbs lay patiently under the table, watching for the piece of shrimp she slid under the table into his waiting mouth.
“More water?” Blake asked, already lifting the pitcher.
“Yes, thank you.” Her mouth felt filled with unspoken words.
Carson quietly watched him pour, heard the ice clink as it fell into her glass. She knew she was being sullen and withdrawn. To make up for it, he was being exceedingly solicitous, tiptoeing around her.
He set down the pitcher and looked at her full plate. “Aren’t you hungry? You’ve hardly taken a bite.”
“No,” she said, slowly shaking her head. She felt bad for all his effort for naught. “I’m not feeling well.”
“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. You should’ve told me. You do look a little off.”
She snorted a short laugh. “Do I?”
“You still look great,” he hurried to add. “Beautiful. As always.”
Carson’s face was glistening with sweat, and she knew she was being testy. It wasn’t Blake’s fault she was pregnant . . . at least not entirely. She set her napkin on the table and pushed back a bit in her chair. Hobbs moved back with a dissatisfied grunt.
“Blake, I have something to tell you.”
Blake looked at her warily. “Okay.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Blake sat motionless, his eyes wide. After a moment he blinked, and she could see he was gathering his wits. “Are you sure?”
She wanted to scream, No, I’m making it up! “Yes, of course I’m sure. I was late and took a pregnancy test in Florida. It’s positive. I took the test three times to be sure.”
He leaned back against his chair and averted his gaze. Then, meeting her eyes, he smiled with a kind of wonderment. “You’re pregnant,” he said. “That’s, well, wow . . . that’s great.”
Carson blinked, not sure she’d heard right. “Great? What do you mean, that’s great? It’s not great.”
“It’s better than what I thought you might say. Look,” he said, laying his palms on the table. “I know we didn’t plan it, but it happened.” He leaned back on the hind legs of his chair and scratched his head. “How did it happen?”
Carson snorted again and looked at him askance.
He brought the chai
r back aright and grinned wickedly. “I know how . . .” His smile fell and he grew serious. “But how did you get pregnant? We were careful.”
“That’s what I want to know,” she replied, narrowing her eyes with accusation.
Anger flashed in Blake’s eyes. “What? No way. What do you take me for? If I wanted to knock you up, I’d be up-front and honest about it.”
“Well, you did knock me up!” she shouted.
“Well, I’m sorry!” he shouted back.
Hobbs jumped up and ran to the door, barking.
“Hobbs, hush,” Blake fired off.
The dog immediately stopped barking and returned to sit on the floor by Blake’s feet with a grunt.
Blake and Carson stared each other down for a moment, the silence thick around them.
Finally Blake wiped his brow, his face pinched in concentration. “Look,” Blake said in a calmer voice. “Obviously something just failed. It’s rare but here we are. And you weren’t on the pill . . .”
“You knew that,” she said defensively, and looked away, embarrassed for her lapse in good judgment. She’d gone off the pill before she’d left Los Angeles. She wanted to give her body a break from the hormones and she wasn’t planning on starting up any relationships. She had meant to go back on the pill when she returned from Florida. She’d thought they were being careful. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“I’m just saying . . .” Blake said in a conciliatory tone. “We’re in this together, okay?” He reached out to tap her hand lying flat on the table. When she looked up he held her gaze. “Okay?”
Carson reluctantly nodded.
“When did you find out?”
“Day before yesterday. It was so bizarre. I was in the water with Delphine and she started echolocating on my abdomen. Turns out she knew I was pregnant before I did.”
“No kidding?” he said, incredulous.
“It freaked me out, let me tell you. As soon as we left the Mote I went to the pharmacy to buy one of those home pregnancy tests. I took all three in the box and all three of them said I was pregnant.” She wiped a wayward lock of hair from her face. “When I found out, it turned on some goddamned switch in my body. Suddenly I’m as sick as a dog. I’d think it was psychosomatic except I couldn’t fake being this sick.”
“Okay,” he said, pushing away his unfinished plate. “It’s going to be okay. I have money in savings and I’ve got good insurance.”
“Wha— Wait!” Carson blurted, sitting straight with alarm. “I’m not sure I’m even having it!”
Blake’s face tightened. “Not sure you’re having it?”
“It’s a big decision. I need to take a step back and think about it.”
“I love you. You love me. What do you need to think about?”
Carson tossed her napkin on the table and stood. She felt the walls of the room closing in on her. “I need to go.”
Blake pushed back his chair and went to her side to take hold of her arm.
“I know you’re freaked out. You’re afraid. But don’t be. I’m here.”
He was saying all the right things and she wished they made her feel better, but they didn’t.
“Carson, you know I love you, right?”
She sniffed, unable to look him in the eye. “Yes.”
“There’s a simple answer. We can get married.”
“No . . .” she said, shaking her head. “Not like this.”
“Honey, I want to marry you. I’ve wanted to marry you from the first moment I saw you at Dunleavy’s.”
“You wouldn’t be asking me if I wasn’t pregnant.”
“Maybe not tonight. But whether it’s now or next year, it doesn’t matter as long as we’re together.” He lowered his lips to kiss the top of her head, then slipped his arms around her, holding her close to his chest.
“We can get married right away, it doesn’t have to be fancy. Then you can move in here. We’ll make my office the nursery. At least until we find a bigger place.”
Blake had it all planned out, apparently. Except Carson didn’t come here tonight for him to have all the answers or to plan her life. She just wanted him to listen to her, to be there for her and let her spill out all her fears and worries, to be her sounding board so she could gain some perspective on what decision to make. Instead, he was pushing her to do what he wanted her to do. Planning her life so she would just say yes. Getting married, having a baby . . . these things were on his agenda, not hers.
Carson felt her breath come quick in a panic. His arms around her felt like a trap. She tensed and broke free of his arms.
“Blake,” she said in a shaky voice, putting her fingers to her temples. “Right now my head feels like it’s going to burst into flames. I can’t talk about getting married and moving in. I’m not sure I want to have a baby at all, much less get married! This is all going way too fast. We’ve only known each other a few months!”
He stared back at her, arms hanging at his sides.
“I didn’t ask you to marry me. I don’t want you to tell me what to do. That’s not why I’m here tonight.” She began pacing the room, eyeing the door. “I’m just trying to do the right thing, to tell you that I’m pregnant. That’s all. That in itself is a stretch for me. I’m not ready to be a mother. I don’t even have a job! How am I going to take care of a baby?”
“I’ll support you and the baby.”
“I don’t want you to! I don’t want to depend on you. Don’t you get that yet?”
He went still, his expression bruised. “I’m beginning to.”
She hadn’t meant to hurt him. That’s not why she came here. Now everything was worse. “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just that I’m afraid of this . . .” She trailed off, indicating her belly with a swipe of her hand. “This thing.”
“Why?”
“Everything will change.”
“Nothing will change. Not between us.”
“Of course it will. Because I’ll change.”
“How will you change?”
“I don’t know!” she cried, knowing she was sounding irrational, but that she was right. “I just will.”
“Carson . . .”
“No! I’m not ready to talk about this. About us. I thought I was strong enough to handle it, but I can’t do it.”
Blake’s eyes dimmed and he lowered his head.
“I have to go.”
Blake’s arm shot out to grab her hand, stopping her.
“Carson. Don’t have an abortion.”
“Blake . . .”
“I mean it.” His dark eyes deepened.
Carson felt an instinctive rush of rage, rearing back and swiping away his firm grip. “It’s my body. I’ll decide what I’m going to do.”
“I love you, Carson. But if you do that, it’s a deal-breaker for me.”
Her breath caught in her throat. This was precisely why she hadn’t wanted to tell him. She came here hoping he’d be sensitive and understanding, the man who listened to her, helped her make decisions without judgment. But why did she think that? Blake was one of the most opinionated men she’d ever met.
Carson grabbed her purse from the chair as she made her way to the door. She opened it, but before leaving she turned and said, “Please, don’t call me for a while, okay?”
“Are you breaking up with me?”
“No. Yes . . .” She gave a huge sigh. “I don’t know,” she said, and fled, closing the door behind her.
That evening, Dora lay on Devlin’s big sleigh bed, her head on his shoulder, drowsy in a post-sex daze. It had been the first time they’d made love on his king-size bed—on land, for that matter. The space seemed luxurious compared to the cramped boat.
It would feel luxurious under any circumstances, Dora thought as her gaze swept the room. His was a large house on the Breach Inlet side of Sullivan’s Island, new construction in the Southern style, with lots of porches with rockers facing the ocean. The bedroom porch doors were open wide, allowing the ocean
breezes to flow in. Those who grew up on the island preferred the sultry air to air-conditioning. It was indeed an impressive house, she thought again, but she wasn’t sure she didn’t prefer the quaint cottage on the marsh.
They’d kicked off the sheets and lay exposed to the cooling breeze. Her hand caressed his bare chest, her fingers mingling with the soft curls. Devlin’s hand stroked her shoulder in a lazy swirling pattern, as he hummed to the song that was playing on his CD.
“I like this song,” Devlin said in a low voice. “Makes me think of us.” He began to join in the chorus, singing in an off-key baritone.
“I saw you last night and got that old feeling.”
“You know the words,” Dora said teasingly. “I’m impressed.”
“I live to impress you.”
Dora burrowed her head comfortably into his shoulder. Cal was not a cuddler, and of course, neither was her son. With Devlin she found she craved this gentle intimacy, almost more than the sex. The sex was wonderful, but this . . . Dora sighed. She needed to be held, to feel treasured.
Devlin began to sing again in his wobbly voice, “The spark of love is still burning.”
“Nice . . .” she murmured absently.
“Woman, didn’t you listen to the lyrics? I’m trying to say something here.”
Dora went very still, suddenly appreciating that Devlin wasn’t joking around.
“That’s how I feel about you, Dora. About us. That old feeling is back. It’s like we’re getting a second chance.”
“Honey, we’ve only just started dating. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
“How long don’t matter. It’s like the song says. I saw you and got that old feeling.”
“Dev, wait,” Dora stammered, sitting up and pulling the sheet around herself.
“What’s the matter, honey?” Devlin asked, his smile falling. He moved to sit up, exposing his nakedness. Dora had to look away, still embarrassed at the sight. She’d never felt comfortable naked, not even as a young woman and never before Cal, who was, she could see in retrospect, a prude.
The Summer Wind (Lowcountry Summer) Page 26
