The Color of Light

by White, Karen

  Squatting, he reached down and picked up a red brick that had been pulled from the dune. It was an old brick, familiar to him because of the vast number he’d reused in his renovations of historic houses. Yes, there was something down there. Something man-made. Probably a tunnel of some sort, to be this far from the house. He stood again, staring up at his house. What secrets are you hiding?

  After his little talk with Grace, he had gone to the window seat to look for a hidden compartment, feeling almost foolish, and had surprised himself by finding the small button in the corner near the bottom. But when he’d pressed it, nothing had happened. He’d wait until full light tomorrow to examine it more closely, and hopefully find a way to force it open without damaging anything. He respected old things; he wouldn’t destroy the window seat and its compartment just because of something a seven-year-old had told him. It could wait until tomorrow. Or later. He couldn’t explain, even to himself, why he was so reluctant to find out what was hidden in Lauren’s window seat.

  He looked back up at the house in the fading light, imagining he saw shadows move behind the windows. With workmen gone for the day, he never felt alone when he went inside. Even out here, on the dunes, he could almost sense a presence.

  “Hello there.”

  He almost slipped into the hole at the sound of the voice behind him. Scrambling to regain both his composure and his foothold, he took a huge step backward, almost knocking over Janie Mulligan, who stood inside the yellow circle with him.

  Linc gripped her upper arms, steadying them both. “Sorry, Miss Janie. You startled me.”

  She looked up at him with soft brown eyes, her hair blowing out of its braids and around her face like seaweed adrift in the open ocean. She held her arms protectively around the front baby carrier, the yellow yarn hair of the doll pulled into a thick ponytail at the back of her head. The doll’s face was turned to the side, and he could see the wide, sightless eyes staring back at him with what Linc thought looked like commiseration. Janie’s soft voice spoke into the ocean breeze. “It’s lonely here.”

  Linc dropped his arms. “It won’t be for long. I saw more tourists on the beach today. Summer’s not that far off.”

  Janie didn’t follow his gaze down the beach. Instead, she stared down into the hole. “I smell the ocean.”

  He picked up another brick and tossed it up on the dune. “The bottom of the hole fills with water at high tide—although I don’t think it always did. Probably when it was first built—most likely as a hiding place—the beach was much farther away and the water not so much of a threat. But now”—he shrugged—“it’s pretty much useless unless you bring diving gear with breathing equipment.”

  He smiled at his own joke, but stopped when he caught Janie staring at him with concentration. “What would happen if you didn’t have any?”

  “Well, you’d drown. Unless you could find an unlocked exit before the tunnel completely filled. There must have been one out on the dunes at one time. Maybe even one leading to the house—I’m not sure. I have to do some more investigating to figure that one out.”

  Janie bent to kiss the top of the doll’s head, then rested her cheek against the yellow yarn hair. “I wonder what it’s like to drown.”

  Linc looked sharply at her, remembering stories of how her brother tried to save a summer tourist who had suffered a heart attack not twenty yards from shore. They had both drowned. Gently, he said, “I’m sure it’s quick. Maybe a little bit like falling into a deep sleep where you’re not really aware of what’s happening.”

  Her smile was sweet and grateful. “I think you’re right. Yes, that’s it exactly.”

  He gently took her elbow and led her under the yellow tape and away from the pit. He realized that he had been talking to her as he would a child. Maybe because her high-pitched, wispy voice and wide, innocent eyes reminded him so much of Gracie. With one last look up at his house, he smiled down at Janie. “Are you going to the Webers’ party?”

  She nodded enthusiastically, the sun throwing flecks of gold into her brown eyes.

  “Good. Me, too. Would you like me to drive you?”

  Her eyebrows puckered for a moment. “Yes, thank you. But do you have room for Baby’s car seat? It’s dangerous for a child not to have one.”

  He regarded her steadily for a moment, sensing not for the first time that there was much more to Janie Mulligan than an aging woman with a confused mind. He saw the small bones and the fair skin, the delicate nose and wide-set brown eyes. She was like a single grain of sand, easily dislodged and lost in a strong ocean breeze. Linc realized with a start that he was comparing her to Jillian. Except Jillian had never given up or let go in a storm. She clung fiercely, keeping the hope close to her heart that all would be well.

  Janie placed her hand in his as if she were a little girl, and he walked her up the dunes toward the road. Her hand felt frail and cold in his, and her other hand stroked Baby’s head. He watched as Janie retreated back into her own little world. He imagined it was an adequate self-defense for those whose hope lay lost and abandoned like a shipwreck deteriorating at the bottom of the ocean.

  Jillian took one last look at Ford in the portable crib before stepping quietly out of Martha’s bedroom and clipping the baby monitor on her belt. At six weeks of age, he was already a dependable sleeper, and she knew he was down for the count for at least six hours. Just in case, she had stored several bottles of formula in Martha’s refrigerator if he decided to wake up sooner.

  She hadn’t had a beer in more than a year, and she felt like a giddy, underaged teenager thinking about the prospect of having one. Feeling a bit guilty, Jillian had even visited her doctor the week before to work out how many formula feedings she’d have to give Ford before she could nurse him again after drinking. She could tell Dr. Clemmens was trying to hide a smile as he told her it was a common question of new mothers. He’d then helpfully told her that she was completely healed and could start having sex again. She’d blushed, then rolled her eyes and stammered something about living like a nun. Smoothing her shirt down now, she blushed again just at the memory.

  As she made her way down the stairs, she felt a small jolt of exuberance as if she were about to go out on a first date. He’s going to be here. She felt heat rush to her face, and she paused at the bottom of the steps to look in the hall mirror. The tanned, slender woman in a tank top and denim miniskirt hardly resembled the pregnant woman who had driven from Atlanta nearly three months before. Thank God.

  She was in time to catch Gracie and Mary Ellen barreling out the kitchen door. Gracie stuck her head back in. “Mary Ellen wants me to spend the night, and her mama says it’s okay. Can I?”

  Feeling magnanimous, Jillian waved her hand. “Sure—I’ll pack up a bag of your stuff and bring it over after the party.”

  Gracie ran over to her mother, gave her a loud kiss, then ran out the door to follow her friend.

  Martha faced her, a large bowl of coleslaw in her hands. “Could you take this on down for me? And if you can pull Mason away from the oyster pit, would you mind sending him back up here? I’ve got a whole pig’s worth of pulled barbecue pork that needs to be brought down to the food table.” She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand as she looked around the kitchen, as if assessing what needed to be done next. “I know it’s the wrong time for an oyster boil, but I had put all those oysters you brought me in the freezer, and I thought that would be enough reason to have all the neighbors over. Can’t really have a private party once the summer people come.”

  Jillian smiled and moved to leave.

  “Are you and Mason dating?”

  Jillian almost dropped the bowl. “No. He just gave us a ride here. Why? Has he said anything?”

  Martha shook her head. “No, but he doesn’t have to. I’ve always been able to read his mind—more so than any of my other children. And I know he’s always had a thing for you, Jillian. Just don’t break his heart, all right? I don’t think I could stand
to see that.”

  Jillian forced her eyes to meet Martha’s. “I like Mason—I always have. But, well, it’s just not like that between us.”

  Martha lifted a basket of hush puppies out of her deep fryer and put it aside. “I figured as much. Guess I got my hopes up when he told me he was bringing you here tonight. Should have realized that as long as Linc’s around, Mason wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  This time Jillian set the bowl down, no longer sure of her ability to hold on to it. “Martha . . .”

  “Don’t be embarrassed, Jillian. Joe and I knew who he was the first time we saw him.”

  “But you didn’t say anything to him?”

  Using a spatula, Martha began scooping out the hush puppies into a bread basket. “No, we figured he had his reasons. He’d left Pawleys under all that suspicion. Not that me and Joe ever thought he could have hurt Lauren Mills. But I figured Linc wasn’t the kind of guy who’d believe it if I told him. He strikes me as the sort of person who’d want to figure it out on his own.”

  Jillian moved to take the basket from Martha and placed it next to the coleslaw. She turned her back on Martha before lifting them both, glad for the excuse not to have to face the older woman. “Linc and I are old friends, Martha. There’s nothing between us but old memories. And when he looks at me, he only sees somebody he thinks once believed the worst of him.”

  She lifted the bowl and heard Martha do an unladylike snort. “Trust me, dear. That’s not the only thing he sees when he looks at you.”

  Martha opened the kitchen door to let Jillian out, and Jillian focused her gaze on the coleslaw as she stepped through the doorway, then made her way down to the beach.

  Several long picnic tables, covered with red-and-white-checked tablecloths, had been set up far away from the surf in anticipation of the oncoming tide. The scent of barbecue and roasting oysters curled through the warm evening air, accompanied by the familiar beach music. Jillian found herself humming along as she found spots on the food table to put down the two dishes she carried.

  She straightened, looking around at the groups of people who had started to gather near the open pits, and spotted Mason. He raised a beer bottle in her direction, and when she nodded, he moved to a large cooler and pulled out one for her.

  Kicking off her sandals and leaving them under the table, she approached Mason. Taking the opened bottle, she thanked him and took a deep swallow.

  He looked different out of uniform, more boylike, almost. He was watching her closely, and she found she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Your mother needs you up at the kitchen to help bring a few things down.”

  He nodded silently, then took a long drink from his bottle. “Would you hold my beer until I get back? Otherwise, Lessie will find it and put sand in it. You’d think as siblings got older, they’d also get more mature.”

  She smiled and finally looked at him. “I wouldn’t know, but I’ll keep your beer safe.”

  He smiled back at her and was about to say more when his attention was distracted by something behind her. She glanced around and saw Linc accepting a beer from Lessie, while Grace tugged on his jeans-clad leg for his attention.

  When she looked back at Mason, his eyes were shadowed. “I’ll be right back,” he said before heading toward the house.

  She took another swig of her beer and sang along with The Drifters for a moment with words from “Save the Last Dance for Me.” The music and the smells of the ocean combined with that of roasting oysters, pit barbecue and beer made her smile to herself. She could almost believe she was young again, waiting for Mason to come ask her to dance while she watched Lauren and Linc moving together to the music, barefoot on the beach.

  Feeling lightheaded, she tipped her beer bottle to her mouth again and finished it before heading down toward the water’s edge. The first night stars had begun to punch holes in the dusk sky, and she sat down in the moist sand to watch them, only slightly aware of her empty bottle and Mason’s full one tipping over in the sand next to her.

  With a long sigh, she fell back into the sand, feeling the still-warm sand beneath her shirt, and stared up at the endless sky, searching for her star.

  She felt Linc nearby before she saw him, but didn’t speak until he was lying in the sand beside her, the top of his head touching hers.

  He held the beer bottles by their necks above them. “Are both these yours?”

  “Nope. One is Mason’s. I definitely don’t think I could handle a second. That’s the first beer I’ve had in a year, and I think it’s gone straight to my head.”

  “Oh, great. You never could hold your liquor. You’re not going to start singing, are you?”

  She threw sand at him, and he turned his head away for a moment.

  His voice still held a smile when he spoke. “What were you looking at?”

  “Ursa Major. It’s hard to make out the stars right now because it’s still light, but I was trying to remember how you used to help me find the North Star.”

  He was silent for a moment, then said, “Give me your hand.”

  She placed her hand in his, feeling his artist’s fingers grasp hers and then maneuver her hand until he was pointing with her index finger. She tried to concentrate on what he was saying and ignore the heat that swelled down her arm and filled her body.

  “Remember Merak and Dubhe?” He moved her hand in the direction of the two stars that made up the right side of the dipper.

  She nodded, and he began to draw a line in the sky with her finger. “Let’s draw an imaginary line from Merak through Dubhe, out of the cup of the dipper, and continue five times as far as the distance between them.”

  He swept her hand across the galaxies, painting a picture with stars that were older than the sand on which they lay, and guided her toward the polestar. It lay almost invisible in the dusk sky, its light no more than a fluttering pinprick, but even with her eyes closed she knew that the ancient star that had guided lost travelers for thousands of years hung in the sky, waiting for her. She felt as if she were on a journey through the night sky, led only by the light of the stars, and Linc’s hand firm on hers, guiding her.

  Slowly, she realized Linc had sat up and was staring down at her, even though he still held her hand. The music beat faintly behind them, the words clear enough to sing along with. He stood and pulled her up with him while the words of the Tams swept over the dunes toward them. What kind of fool do you think I am? Pulling her closer, he set her hands on his shoulders and then began to dance.

  She stumbled at first, her legs feeling more like rubber than limbs, and then she moved in his arms as Lauren once had, feeling beautiful and graceful and wanted. He didn’t smile at her as they danced, but looked at her with an expression on his face that made her feel as if he’d never really seen her before. She closed her eyes, seeing him again guiding her through the night sky, helping her find her way.

  When the song ended, they stood where they were, close enough together that the wind blew her hair into his face. Brushing her hair back, he cupped her face and brought his lips to hers.

  She tasted the salt air on his lips first, and then forgot everything else except for the heat that seemed to burn from the inside out as she opened her mouth and welcomed him in. He pulled her closer until the heat and hardness of his body lay against hers and she could feel his need for her. Her full breasts ached as they pressed against his chest, but she couldn’t feel the pain—only the need to be absorbed by him and his kiss. I’m drowning, she thought, fighting for air and balance but not wanting him to stop.

  Her hands found their way to his hair, and she smiled against his lips as she realized she’d always wanted to feel it like this, with her arms around his neck and her fingers plunging into the dark strands. His hands slipped their way under her shirt, and she pictured his long artist’s fingers against her skin, warm and sure where they touched her, as if she were an unfinished block of wood waiting to be made into something beautiful. He said her name before pulli
ng away abruptly and only then did she realize that somebody nearby had cleared a throat.

  Mason stood about six feet away, looking everywhere except her face. “I was looking for my beer.”

  She looked around for the bottle in the sand and then spotted it lying on its side. “Sorry. We were dancing. . . .” She was unable to finish the sentence and found she couldn’t look at Linc or Mason. Wiping imaginary sand from her skirt, she said to no one in particular, “I’m going to go check on Gracie.”

  It wasn’t until she was halfway toward the picnic area that she realized the sky had gone completely dark while she had danced in Linc’s arms, and she hadn’t once remembered to be afraid.

  CHAPTER 17

  LINC SAT UP IN HIS BED, NOT SURE OF WHAT IT WAS THAT HAD AWAKENED him. The full moon cast a blue-tinged glow around his bedroom, seeming to smother all outside sounds. But he had heard something somewhere inside the house.

  Quietly, he slid from his bed and found a pair of jeans and a T-shirt to slip on. His flashlight lay on the floor by the empty milk crates he’d been using for a dresser, and he picked it up in case he might need a weapon.

  He crept out onto the landing at the top of the stairs and listened. The house spoke to him, as it always did in its silence, the testament of years threaded through the faint sounds of the ocean. But beyond that, he heard something else. He was quite sure it wasn’t a sound, exactly; it was more of a physical pull, as if someone were tugging on his hand and guiding him downstairs. He wondered why he wasn’t afraid.

  Without turning on any lights, he cautiously made his way down the steps, his bare feet silently padding on the freshly sanded wood risers. He moved surely through the dark, the moon shining through the door transom, showing the way with arms of blue light.