“What do you mean?”
She took a sip of coffee, and as she set her cup back down on the countertop, I noticed an empty mug next to her hand along with a small pot of sorghum syrup. I held back a smile as I imagined her having Uncle Camp’s coffee ready for him when he woke up.
Tomorrow morning, she’d be checking out of the cottage, and Uncle Camp had volunteered to drive her home. I hoped that the two of them had a long, meaningful talk during that ride.
“It’s rather like Leala’s yoga,” she said. “When you first learn to balance on one leg, there’s a need for support. Find your support, Sadie, and you’ll find your balance.”
A bark echoed, and footsteps sounded above our heads. The pipes squeaked. Everyone would be down soon. I hurriedly finished rolling the dough, thinking about balance and support. Balance and support. How did I find it? Where did I find it?
Iona’s gaze drifted toward the lake, and she said, “Now, tell me—did you really think Lady Laurel would grant a selfish wish?”
I couldn’t help but smile at her wry tone. “I thought so for a long time.” I told her of my wish, Leala’s, and even my mother’s, and how Will was the first one to point out the obvious. That Lady Laurel wouldn’t grant those wishes. “But there’s still no explaining why all the wishes came true.”
“Did they come true?” she asked. “Or did your accident simply set forth a series of events that made it seem that way? From what I’ve gathered from talking with Teddy and Camp and Susannah and Will and Leala and Connor, only one wish was granted that long-ago night.”
I grabbed the bowl of cinnamon topping I’d made earlier, a mix of butter, brown sugar, vanilla, and cinnamon that smelled heavenly, and started sprinkling it over the dough. “Which one?”
“The wish that you be found alive. It was their only plea while they searched for you in the water, half wish, half prayer.”
Suddenly choked with tears, I put the bowl down and said, “But that wasn’t a wish written on any of the lanterns. It couldn’t have been. The lanterns had already been launched when I fell in the lake.”
I was reminded suddenly of what Will had said last night.
For a second there, I flashed back to eight years ago when you fell in the lake, to the panic, to the overwhelming fear and the sudden wish of please—please be okay.
Iona lifted a slim shoulder. “Who’s to say their whispers didn’t carry through the air and land on the lanterns floating nearby? That might explain your hair, as well. The light from all those wishes, those wishes so pure of heart that they sparkled like life itself, was used to bring you back to them.” She smiled. “And, Sadie, perhaps if you stopped looking for the meaning to life, you’d realize that there is no meaning other than to live a meaningful life. Love your life.” She winked and rose from her stool. “Or at least those are my theories—take them for what you will.”
As I watched her walk outside to join Mama and Leala on the dock, goose bumps rose on my arms, the pulsing inside me faded, and I wondered why those theories sounded like nothing but the absolute truth.
Leala
Lanterns floated by the edge of the dock, caught in the lake current that pulled them along, and every single one that passed by seemed to have either a heart or the word love written on it.
Love truly did make the world go round.
Yet it wasn’t enough to protect those we loved the most in the world.
“Accidents happen, baby girl,” Mama said to me as if she had been reading my mind. “It doesn’t matter how loving, caring, or careful you are. They happen, and we have to learn how to deal with them. Don’t ruin today by dwelling on a bad yesterday.”
It had been decades since she called me baby girl, and a few days ago it would’ve rankled, but now … now it felt a little like a hug.
“Sometimes we deal by denial,” she said. “Sometimes we fake our way along, and sometimes we simply accept what’s happened and try to find the grace to carry on.”
I bit my thumbnail, then dropped my hand into my lap. “I thought … I thought all this time if I warned him and protected him and loved him more than life itself, that he’d always be safe. And then last night happened, and in that moment of seeing him about to fall into the fire, there was nothing I could do. It was the absolutely worst feeling in the world, to know there was no way I could stop him from being hurt … or killed.”
“I know, darlin’, I know.”
I took a deep breath. “I blamed you, you know. When Daddy died, I mean. I thought for sure there was something you could’ve done to save him, but there wasn’t, was there? Because accidents happen.” He hadn’t fallen because she wasn’t holding the ladder. He’d fallen because his foot had slipped off a rung.
She gave a mirthless laugh. “I knew. But what you never knew was that I blamed myself, too. If only I’d insisted on hiring a professional roofer, or bought him a new pair of tennis shoes with better traction, or been standing directly beneath him so maybe I could’ve caught him. I’ve been through it all a million times. It’s like a bad dream that never ends. It fades sometimes, but something always comes along there to remind me. Looking back on it, I think that instead of just addressing it, I took some of my guilt out on you, because you constantly reminded me of it, with your comments, your name, even your eyes, so like your daddy’s. I’m real sorry for that.”
I pulled a loose hair off my shirt and set it free in the breeze. If only it were so easy to let go of years of pain, let the wind carry it far away.
Mama went on, saying, “I lived in fear of another accident taking away you or Sadie until I started driving myself crazy and had to stop or lose my mind completely. I disconnected, which I didn’t think was hurting anyone, but it was. It hurt you. And Sadie. And ultimately Buzzy, too. I should’ve gone to a counselor or a therapist, but it’s always easy to see that kind of thing only when you’ve come through the other side. Sometimes distance has a funny way of making you see things a whole lot clearer.”
My eyes filled with tears as she finally opened up after all this time. “I’m sorry, too, Mama. I’m so ashamed that I ever blamed you for Daddy’s death.”
“Hush now,” she said. “We all coped the best we knew how.”
I smiled, but it felt starched, pained. “We need better coping skills.”
She cupped my face with her hand. “You’re already one step ahead of me, Leala Clare, with your yoga. When you almost died giving birth, you found yoga. You didn’t keep everything bottled up or buried, like I did. You let it out. You let it out so you could heal.”
Stretch the body, heal the mind. “I didn’t know how much it helped me until this past week.”
“I wasn’t just blowing smoke the other day when I said I’m learning from you girls. You’re teaching me new ways to cope, too, with your yoga lessons. One day I might just be able to do a handstand—wouldn’t that be something?”
“Mama, I hate to tell you this, but you’re not really doing yoga by sitting here and drinking coffee. Meditation, maybe. But yoga?” I shook my head.
“Well, shoo. That’s a bubble buster. But you can teach me the proper way, right? Once you get your certification?”
“Mama, I don’t—”
She reached down and pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. “I went on that there internet last night and found this. It’s a yoga studio in Birmingham that offers classes for certification. Classes start soon, and there are still spots open.”
I stared at the name of the school on the paper and the phone number Mama had written down, and my heart beat a little faster. “It doesn’t make sense for me to do this. I have an accounting degree.”
Teaching yoga wasn’t a nine-to-five job with a steady paycheck, yet I’d never wanted something so badly in my life. And suddenly I heard Sadie’s voice in my head, telling me how her job wasn’t traditional but it was meaningful. Meaningful meant everything when it came to happiness.
“You’ve always gone after what you
wanted and achieved it, Leala Clare. You never let anyone or anything stop you. I’ve always been a little jealous of that, if I’m being honest. I was never that brave. So why stop now? What do you truly want? Because every day you get a choice to start over, begin again. And, by the way, if money’s an issue in your decision, I’d be pleased to make a contribution toward your tuition if you’re needing financial assistance. I love you, darlin’, and I want you to be happy.”
Her admission of jealousy also explained a lot about her behavior toward me over the years, and I realized how hard it had to have been for her to confess it, her pride being what it was. My heart suddenly softened as I considered how her choices had shaped her—then and now. I smiled through my tears and threw my arms around her. “I love you, too, Mama. I need to talk to Connor about it first, but then I’ll call about enrollment. I promise.”
She hugged me tighter, and whispered, “Then now is probably a good time to let you know that I can’t be providin’ any tuition assistance until I sell the cottage.”
I laughed. “We’ll be fine, but thank for the offer, Mama.”
“I’m real proud of you, Leala Clare.”
Tears spilled over at hearing the words I’d longed to hear my whole life long. “You can call me LC if you want. I kind of miss it.”
Pulling away, she laughed and said, “Well, don’t you even dare think about going back to Mother.” She shuddered.
The screen door squeaked, and I wiped my eyes and saw Iona coming toward us, then a moment later heard another squeak and Connor and Tucker stepped out.
Tucker spotted me and yelled, “Mama! Moo! Found Moo! Moo!” He raised the stuffed animal in the air, shaking it by its neck, and raced forward, nearly falling over his own feet.
“Slow down!” Mama and I said at the same time.
Then we leaned against each other and laughed.
In no time at all, everyone had gathered together on the dock except Uncle Camp.
Mama stood up. “I’ll go rouse the sleepyhead. I’ve got to use the little ladies’ room, anyhow.”
Sadie and Bree were chatting up a storm about Bree moving to Alabama, while Teddy looked like she wanted a couple of aspirin and a weeklong nap. Tuck was regaling Buzzy and Iona with a story about Moo flying.
Connor leaned into me and said, “Looked like you and your mom were having a good talk out here.”
I smiled. “Really good.” I took a breath. “Hey, what do you think about me teaching yoga? Professionally, I mean. I’d have to get my certification…”
He took a beat before answering, letting it all sink in before he smiled. “You’ll be an amazing teacher.”
I threw my arms around him and kissed him. Teddy let out a catcall and Sadie yelled, “Get a room.”
We were all laughing when Mama came back out of the house, rushing forward much the way Tucker had earlier, nearly tripping on her feet. But it wasn’t excitement on her face—it was shock and sorrow.
She hiccupped, holding back tears. “It’s Camp…”
Chapter
29
Sadie
The morning’s events sat heavy on us all, weighing us down with its grief. Shoulders drooped. Chins dipped downward. Tears fell freely. My chest ached so badly it was hard to take a deep breath.
Uncle Camp was gone, having drifted off forever in his sleep.
In my head, I could hear his voice. I’m a lucky man.
Maybe so, but we were all luckier for having had him in our lives. His love, his care, his everything. I pulled my legs up on the chair and wrapped my arms around them, wanting to curl into myself, away from the pain.
The police had been notified, the coroner summoned, and Uncle Camp’s body had been taken to the local funeral home. It had been a hellacious flurry of activity, and there was still more to do, funeral arrangements to be made.
Well into the afternoon now, we sat stunned, this family of mine, including the family of my heart. The only one missing was Iona, who had put away an empty coffee cup and pot of sorghum syrup and retired to her room a few hours ago, her face wet with tears, her broken heart visible for all to see.
Teddy flitted about the kitchen, making coffee, making tea, making anything to keep herself busy. She went from fridge to cabinet to island like she’d been doing it her whole life, seemingly as comfortable here in the cottage’s kitchen as she was in her own.
Bree played jacks with Tucker on the floor, and even he was subdued, as if sensing the monumental shift to his world but not fully understanding it. Every once in a while, he’d stop what he was doing and pet Nigel’s head, who’d return the love with a lick to his hand.
Mama sat on the sofa, silent for once, and the quiet said more than her words ever had. Buzzy was next to her, his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into him, as if needing the support. Needing him.
I’d always known her to be so strong, resilient—a rock. But her weakness had been revealed. Her grief had cracked that rock open, highlighting a soft spot inside, a heart that bled its sorrow.
Earlier I’d called Will and told him what had happened and declined his offer to come over since the house had been full of emergency personnel. Now I regretted that choice, wishing he were here to lean on.
Leala and Connor sat on the other sofa, and Leala met my gaze with moisture in her eyes. “Should we check on Iona?”
“I’ll bring her some tea,” Teddy said, already setting a tray. “And see if she’s hungry since she hasn’t eaten all day.”
I glanced at the clock. It was almost four, and none of us had eaten much as grief had stolen our appetites. I rested my chin on my knees, hating this downtime but not sure what else to do. I wanted to be busy, to do something, to not just sit here soaking in my misery, lost in my memories, trying to recall every moment I’d shared with Uncle Camp throughout the years. It was impossible to remember them all. There’d been too many.
Nigel lifted his head as Teddy climbed the stairs, tray in hand, and I wished that I’d been the one to bring it upstairs, to give comfort to Iona, and to receive it as well. She’d worked her way into my heart this past week, with her wisdom and advice, and I was going to miss her when she finally went back to Wetumpka for good. And now I wondered when that would be. Would she stay for Uncle Camp’s funeral? After all, she had worked her way into his heart, too.
A moment later, Teddy raced down the stairs. “Iona’s not in her room. There’s money on the bed and a note saying she was going home and thanking y’all for everything.”
I set my feet on the floor and perched on the edge of my chair. “I didn’t see her leave. Did anyone see her leave?” No one, it seemed, had.
I pulled out my phone and called Iona’s number. A recorded message responded, telling me that the number I had dialed wasn’t valid. I called again and received the same message. “This is strange.”
“I’m worried,” Mama said. “This is unlike her.”
Leala stood. “I’ll ask around the neighborhood, see if anyone saw her.”
I jumped up. “I’ll drive down to her house. If she took a ride-share, she’s likely already home.” I ran for my purse, my keys, and was out the door and on the road before anyone could stop me.
I’d planned to call with updates but realized soon after driving away that I’d left my phone on the cushion of the wingback, and I hadn’t wanted to waste any time by going back for it. Iona’s address was in my car’s GPS memory, so I sped southward, toward the small bungalow overlooking the Coosa River.
A little less than an hour and a half later, as jazz played loudly on the radio to drown out my thoughts, I entered Wetumpka’s city limits and forced myself to slow down as I followed the route through the town and over the bridge to Iona’s house. When I pulled into the driveway, I stared in shock at the bungalow that stood before me, and then double-and triple-checked that I had the correct address.
It was the same.
Except it wasn’t.
Throwing open the door, I s
tepped out onto the gravel driveway that had been paved only last week. The bungalow that sat before me was filthy and boarded up, nearly covered in vines, and the porch roof had collapsed at some point in time.
I heard a bark and looked over to see a neighbor watering the lawn, her dog keeping a wary eye on me. I crossed the lot, now devoid of the green grass I’d seen last week. My steps were hesitant, unsure on the cracked, dusty earth. “Excuse me, ma’am?”
An older woman, in her seventies at the very least, flipped the nozzle on her hose and wiped her hands on her pants. “Hello! Don’t get many visitors out this way. Are you lost, dear?”
I shook my head and pointed at the house. “Do you know what happened to the woman who lived there?”
“Oh heavens. She died some years back. Forty years, fifty? A terrible tragedy while she was on her honeymoon. Eventually, her husband up and moved north, leaving this place behind to rot. If you’re looking to buy the land, the county records office is the best place for you to start.”
My heart started beating harder, faster. “Thanks,” I said, playing along so I didn’t seem like a crazy woman. “I think I’m going to poke around a bit first.”
“Do be careful. That place has been abandoned some time now. No tellin’ what you’ll find.”
“Thank you kindly.”
I walked back toward the house, toward the side door I had gone in and out of not that long ago, and the river rapids splashed in the background as if urging me on. The door stood ajar. Taking a deep breath, I nudged it fully open. The house was empty, a mere shell with trees growing through the walls and the earth visible through the floor. My gaze shifted to the kitchen, and I froze, my breath catching in my throat. Amid the dirt, the dust, the decay, the fridge gleamed bright white, the same as it had nearly two weeks ago, but gone were all the photos and most of the magnets. All that remained was a single postcard held in place by a round, black magnet.
The Lights of Sugarberry Cove Page 29
