by Lisa Carter
“Caroline—”
“But I wanted you to know before you…” She dropped her eyes to the bracelets. “Before we went any further. So you could bow out before—”
The Ferris wheel swung into motion, and the car lurched. Both of them grabbed for the bar.
He pressed his shoulder against hers. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Turtle Lady. I think I’m falling in love with you, Caroline.”
“You shouldn’t.”
He pried one of her hands off the steel bar. “Too late.”
“I’m so sorry, Weston.” She quivered. “Just your luck, to always pick the crazy ones.”
The Ferris wheel whirled into motion once more.
“Don’t say that about yourself. I’ve told you about my past. The mistakes I’ve made. I’d never judge you for what happened. I have scars, too. They just aren’t as visible.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to see me again. I understand.”
That was a lie. She wouldn’t be okay never seeing him again. But he didn’t need to know that. This wasn’t his problem. It was hers.
He shook his head and crushed her against him. “It wouldn’t be okay with me to never see you again. Nor for Izzie, either.”
“Izzie…” Emptiness filled Caroline. “She deserves a real mother, not someone as scarred as…”
Both hands on her shoulders, he angled Caroline to face him as the wheel picked up speed. “I’m afraid you’re it, Turtle Lady. She’s already picked you.”
Tears pinpricked Caroline’s eyes. “I’m no good for her or you.”
He took hold of her hand. His eyes never leaving hers, his mouth brushed the skin on her wrist. And his lips kissed her scar. Softly. Tenderly.
A thousand shimmering sensations exploded in Caroline’s heart. The wheel completed another turn.
“Trust me, Caroline…” His hand caught in her hair, and his fingers rubbed a wisp of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. “Trust yourself.”
His gaze traced the pattern of her features and lingered. “Trust us.”
“Why would you want me in your life, Weston? I’m just a turtle lady. And far more damaged than any of my turtle princesses.” The car rocked to a stop at the top of the Ferris wheel.
He cradled her face in his hands. “Because you’re my beautiful turtle lady.”
And his mouth found hers. His mouth tasted of mint as his beard stubble sandpapered her cheek. But his lips, his touch, were gentle and undemanding. He paused, giving her time to pull away or not. Giving her the freedom to choose him. Or not.
Silencing her fears, Caroline leaned into him, placing her arms around his neck. And as the Ferris wheel carried them toward earth once more, she kissed him again underneath the glittering stars of her beloved Eastern Shore home.
Chapter Thirteen
Weston hadn’t believed he could be this happy. As the next weeks flew by, he, Izzie and Caroline spent as much time together as work schedules allowed. Dinner at the cabin or lightkeeper’s cottage. Ice cream at the Sugar Shack.
There were long walks on the beach monitoring the unhatched eggs. Izzie would race ahead. He and Caroline following at a more leisurely pace. Stolen moments at the top of the lighthouse in the lantern room. Kisses under the moonlight.
Late-night phone calls after he put Izzie to bed. He and Caroline shared their favorite movies and books. Talked about their music preferences. Spoke aloud thoughts on God. Gave each other glimpses into their souls.
Caroline also helped him pick out furniture for the master suite. As the days went on, more and more he pictured the lovely veterinarian becoming a permanent fixture in his home. Adorning his life and Izzie’s. A helpmate. She’d already become a permanent fixture in his heart.
On a breezy morning in late June, Caroline pulled into the lighthouse drive and announced Turtle Mama was ready to return to her oceanic home.
“No…” Izzie’s chin wobbled. “She can’t go yet. Her babies haven’t hatched.”
He and Caroline exchanged glances.
Weston crouched beside his daughter. “We prayed for Turtle Mama to get better from her wounds and now she has. It’s time for her to go home.”
Izzie shook her head. Her hair flew around her shoulders. “Not without her babies.” She pressed her lips together.
Caroline opened the hatch in her car to where Turtle Mama splashed in the kiddy pool. “I brought Turtle Mama here to say goodbye. I thought we could launch Turtle Mama from the beach where she was born. To where she’ll probably return in a month or so to lay more eggs before the season’s over this year.”
Izzie planted her hand on her hip. “I’m not ready for her to go. I’m not ready to say goodbye.” Tears gleamed in her eyes.
“Not goodbye forever.” Caroline draped her arms around Izzie’s waist. “Just goodbye for now. I’ve inserted a PIT tag into Turtle Mama. We can track her progress and follow her journey on the monitor at the lab.”
“Mamas shouldn’t leave…” Izzie whispered.
Caroline scooped the little girl in her arms. Izzie wrapped her legs around Caroline like the monkey girl he always claimed her to be.
Weston raked his hand over his head. “Izzie.” He reached for her as Caroline’s arms sagged with his daughter’s weight.
“It’s okay, Wes.” Caroline lifted her chin. “I’ve got this.”
She tucked Izzie’s head into the curve of her neck. “I know how hard it is, Ladybug, to say goodbye to those we love. But we have to think of what’s best for Turtle Mama and her babies. The sea is their real home.”
Caroline’s breath hitched. “Not here.” She blinked and buried her face against Izzie’s hair.
Weston smoothed a ringlet of hair from his daughter’s face. “It’s going to be okay, Izzie. I promise you.”
His gaze drifted to Caroline. “We’re going to be okay.”
Izzie lifted her head. “I have an idea.”
Dare he ask?
Caroline bit back a smile. “What idea, Ladybug?”
“I know how we should celebrate Turtle Mama’s homecoming.”
Later, he and Caroline once again maneuvered the Kemp’s ridley to the beach beneath the dunes. As the tide washed over the turtle, Izzie tossed wildflowers one by one into the water.
Like a path to guide the turtle home. Reminding Weston of a Hawaiian “homecoming” he’d witnessed during his CG stint in the islands after a beloved local matriarch died.
As Turtle Mama disappeared beneath the waves of the sea, Izzie inserted herself between him and Caroline. Holding on to each of their hands.
“Goodbye, Turtle Mama,” she called. “I love you.”
And Weston found himself letting go. Of the pain and bitterness. Of the hurt Jessica caused.
It was time to emerge from his emotional hibernation. Today, with Izzie and Caroline by his side, at last he found the strength to say goodbye.
Enabling him to forgive Jessica for what she’d done and failed to do. To finally forgive himself for the hurt he’d caused Jessica. For what he’d done and failed to do. Seeing Izzie’s mother with a compassion he’d been unable to find before.
In subsequent days, he felt a freedom he’d not experienced in years. A lightness of being. And an overwhelming peace.
Additional marine animals were rescued and treated under Caroline’s pilot program. The land was acquired through grants and fund-raising to build the center in an abandoned fishery near the Kiptohanock docks.
For the first time in a long while, he felt a stirring of professional interest. He talked to his engineering partner about the possibilities. They submitted a bid and were awarded a contract to remodel the site in conjunction with a Tidewater-based architectural firm.
Caroline did a well-received children’s story hour at the library on the ongoing battle to save endangered sea turtles. She and Sawyer discussed establishing a Turtle Week with the foster siblings next summer. And Weston?
Somehow he managed to
finish restoring the original Fresnel lens in the lighthouse. Refracted through multifaceted prisms, the light pulsed like a star held prisoner by the glass. He couldn’t wait to test it. He planned to surprise Caroline.
The lenses produced different types of beams. Flashing, fixed and occulting lights so that the periods of illumination lasted longer than the periods of darkness. An object lesson. An encouragement. An “I believe in you” statement of faith to the woman to whom he could no longer deny his feelings.
He loved Caroline. Plain and simple. Each morning as the sunrise pierced the dawn sky, his first thoughts were of her. And hers was the last face he visualized as he closed his eyes at night.
By now he’d figured out he had it bad. The idea of a forever life with Caroline and Izzie filled him with a joy and deep gratitude for God’s goodness. To a man who deserved neither.
Caroline filled hollow places inside Weston. Not usurping God, but the places meant by God for a woman to fill. Healing on love’s wings. A healing he prayed every day he’d help Caroline find, as well. She seemed to blossom before his eyes as the days passed. Perhaps his imagination or wishful thinking. But he thought not.
Caroline’s eyes glowed with serenity. And he’d no need to look in the mirror to know his did, too.
Thank You, God, for this second chance at love. Thank You for never giving up on me when I failed You. Thank You for giving Izzie a mother who’ll love her forever just like You.
A sunbeam freckled the floor. The illumined dust motes danced in cast light.
Suddenly, he knew with the remodeling nearly complete what he’d christen the lighthouse and keeper’s cottage. Heart’s Desire. Because God in His infinite grace had given Weston his.
*
She was not only better. She was well. Perhaps for the first time in her adult life.
Caroline felt good. Optimistic not only regarding mending broken family relationships, but also for a future and the hope of what God might have in store for her. Inspired by Izzie’s courage, she was finally ready to confront the last of her fears. To face the grief. Let it go. And move beyond loss.
That afternoon, she left the lab and drove into Kiptohanock. She noticed her dad’s truck outside the Sandpiper. But she turned onto a tertiary road, which led to the cemetery on a hill overlooking the fishing village and harbor.
She sat in the car for a moment to gather her thoughts and ready herself. Which was silly, actually. She was as ready as she’d ever be to say goodbye to her mother and sister. Just do it, she told herself.
Grabbing the bouquet of flowers she’d picked from the garden at the inn, Caroline got out of the car. She slipped into the quiet, iron-gated enclosure. A holy hush pervaded the cemetery underneath the cradling arms of massive live oaks.
She shaded her face with her hand. The barrier islands glimmered like a string of pearls in the blue-green waters where the inlet emptied into the sea. Peaceful, serene. Restful. Not unlike the glorious God-sized view from Weston’s lighthouse gallery.
Taking a deep breath, she trudged past lichen-covered slabs and dodged the granite-speckled newer headstones. Pruitt, Keller, Turner, Colonna. Turnage. Savage. And…Duer.
Several generations of Duers, but Caroline stopped in front of her sister’s headstone first. Melinda Katherine Duer. Beloved daughter and mother. Gone too soon.
Yes, she was. Yes, to all of it. She laid half of the flowers on the grave.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Lindi,” Caroline whispered. “Max is such a good boy. Amelia takes wonderful care of him. He’s very much loved and in him, we still have a little bit of you.”
A blue jay alighted onto a magnolia branch. The bird’s feathers were a brilliant accent against the smooth green of the leaves. A single tear tracked down Caroline’s cheek. She faced the grave beside her sister’s. And laid the rest of the flowers on the ground.
Marian Savage Duer. Beloved wife and mother. Gone, but never forgotten.
“Hey, Mama.” She laid her hand atop the roughened edges of the monument. “It’s me, Caroline. I know it’s been a long time since I was here, but I wanted to tell you how much I still miss you.”
She sank onto a nearby wrought-iron bench. “I’m so sorry for the mess I made with Daddy. I hurt him—” she grimaced “—and myself a lot. I hope you’ll forgive me, Mama. I’m not sure if Daddy ever will.”
“I do forgive you. ”
With a quick turn of her head, she spotted her father at the edge of the Duer plot. “How did you know I was here?” She half rose. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You’re not intruding. I saw your car…” Her father sighed. “Do you mind some company on this pilgrimage of yours?”
She shifted a few inches, giving him room. “It is a pilgrimage, I guess. Long overdue.”
He eased beside her on the bench. “Were you scared to come here, Caroline?” He laid one arm across the back of the bench. “Is that why it took you so long to come back?”
“Yes.” She bit her lip. “But not in the way you probably think. As a scientist, I know better than most, nothing physical remains here of Mama or Lindi. I came mainly for me. I was scared of myself, not them.”
She knotted her hands in her lap. “That makes absolutely no sense at all, does it? To talk to somebody who I know isn’t there.”
“It makes sense to me.” Her father took her hand in his. “’Cause I’ve always believed those we’ve loved have merely gone on ahead. Out of sight yet closer than we suppose.”
His gaze traveled across the grass to rest on the twin headstones. “The essence of your mother and Lindi still exists. No longer sick. No more pain. Happy and well.”
“Waiting for us to join them.”
He looked at Caroline then. “But not before God’s time.” He shook his head. “Not before His time.”
She exhaled, the sound coming out in a half sob. “But it seems like such a long time they’ve been gone.”
Caroline blinked to clear the tears out of her lashes. “Some days, I didn’t think I could bear to go another minute without them.” She glanced at the sliver of blue sky above the trees. “Some days I didn’t want to miss them anymore.”
“I know. Me, too.”
He adjusted the brim of his ball cap with his hand. “I had a talk with Amelia this morning. She told me how you watched over us from a distance. About the money you sent after the hurricane.”
There was a subtle alteration in his voice. “And she told me what she suspects was happening with you while you were so far away.”
“You know, don’t you?” Her breath came in spurts. “You know what I did?”
Her father cradled her hand in his. The copper band gleamed in the dappled light cast through the tree canopy. He laid his hand over the band and the beaded bracelets.
“I want to apologize for not being there for you.” He clenched his jaw. “I was locked in my own prison of darkness, and I failed to see how bad you girls were hurting. I should’ve been there for you. For Lindi, Amelia and Honey, too.”
“None of what happened to me was your fault.” She took a deep breath. “I did this to myself. You were not to blame. I was weak. I—”
“That’s the real reason you refused to come home.” Her father gripped her hand. “You were afraid we wouldn’t understand. But I would’ve been the last to judge you, Caroline.”
Her mouth trembled. “I was too ashamed to come home, Daddy. I wasn’t there for you. Or Amelia or Honey. Or Max. I tried to take the coward’s way out. Mom would’ve been so ashamed of me. I’m ashamed of me.”
“No.” Her tough, waterman father blinked back tears. “She wouldn’t have been ashamed. She would’ve understood because she understood and loved me in spite of my own weakness.”
Caroline drew back. “What are you saying, Dad?”
“When your mother died, you girls responded to her death in various ways. Lindi went looking for love in all the wrong places, as the song goes.”
; “But Amelia—”
“Amelia overcompensated by trying to be everything to everyone. She somehow believed if she could control everything, nothing bad would ever happen to her again.” He made a face. “Control is another delusion. And Honey?”
Her dad scrubbed his hand over his bristly mustache. “Let’s just say Sawyer could testify to her anger management issues before they found their happily-ever-after.”
“But—”
“The point is, none of us is perfect, Caroline. And I was no help to any of you when I was lost in my own decade of sorrow.”
He took off his cap and set it on the bench beside them. “Which unfortunately was not a new coping mechanism for me. Only this time when I mourned I didn’t have your mother to help me emerge from the grief.”
“What do you mean ‘this time’?”
“You and me, Caroline, we’re more alike than we’re different. We feel things, some would say too deeply. We can’t easily let loose of what we should let go of.”
She fingered a woven bracelet. “I don’t think you know what I—”
He stilled her hand. “I know about waking up to each day darker than the last. When everything is an effort. It’s too hard to think. To make a decision. To leave the house. To get out of bed. To go on breathing.”
She sucked in a breath.
“I’m talking about the kind of black depression that feels like nothing will ever get better. That you will never get better. When all you want is for the pain to stop any way you can arrange it. You’re not alone in feeling this way. You’re not the only one who’s ever wished for oblivion.”
She lifted her chin. “Maybe not, but I’m the only one of the Duers who ever tried to make it happen.”
He took hold of her arm and tugged her to her feet. “I want to show you something.” He guided Caroline toward one of the older headstones in the Duer family plot.
Kate Upshur Duer. Gone home. May there she finally rest at peace.
“Your mother, Dad?”
