The Summer Wind (19 page)

Harper laughed lightly. “You are the dearest. But you’re fooling no one. I’d rather find my husband on my own terms, thank you very much.” Her tone grew wistful again. “He’s out there somewhere.”

“That all sounds very romantic,” Dora said. “But tick-tock, sister. You’re not going to find him sitting here by your lonesome. You haven’t gone out on a date since you’ve arrived.”

“Well, look who’s suddenly Miss Lady Out on the Town!” Harper remarked playfully.

“True, true,” Dora said with a laugh. “But seriously, you’re so young and so pretty.”

Harper sat straighter in her chair, lifting her chin. “I’ll know him when I meet him,” she said. “I’ve always dreamed when I do, it will be a thunderbolt. I’ve heard of such things happening, haven’t you? You look into a stranger’s eyes and boom, you just know.”

Dora thought of how she shivered whenever she looked into Devlin’s eyes. She spoke as much to herself as to her sister.

“I never thought of you as a romantic,” she said with a short laugh. “That’s the stuff of fairy tales. What you’re referring to is plain lust. Marriage is another thing altogether. Thunderbolts are fun, but a husband has to be a good provider. And in your case, your man has to have a long and illustrious pedigree.”

Mamaw turned in her chair to look askance at Dora. “When you talk like that you sound like your mother,” she said drily.

Dora paled and brought her hand to her mouth. “I do, don’t I?” She turned to Harper. “Oh, hell, don’t listen to me. What do I know? Look at the mess I’ve made of my life.”

“You’re doing just fine,” Harper said. “Let’s forget about me,” she said, deflecting the attention from herself back to Dora. “I’m glad to see
you
going out for a change.”

“As should you,” Dora replied, tossing the spotlight back to Harper. “You’re becoming an introvert,” Dora argued, “only talking to people on the Internet. That’s not good.”

“But it
is
good,” Harper said insistently. “For me. My whole life, even as a girl, I was on a treadmill, always pushing toward some goal.” She paused, then said evenly, “Mother was very good at setting goals.”

Dora snorted in an unladylike manner. “I get that.”

Mamaw set her book down again and looked at Dora.

“Dora,
you
might need people now,” said Harper. “But I need solitude.”

“Solitude is different from isolation. I isolated myself in Summerville even though there were lots of people around me, and let me tell you, I was lonely. I can understand seeking moments of peace, but be careful that you are not hiding out.”

“I know the difference,” Harper said defensively. “It’s hard to explain. I didn’t realize it when I first arrived here in May. I
thought I’d come in for Mamaw’s weekend party, then be on my way. Of course”—she looked sheepishly at Mamaw, catching her eyes and smiling—“it didn’t turn out that way. Since I’ve been here, though, it’s like my whole body has slowed down. I’m paying attention to the minutiae that suddenly loom so large. And I like it. I’m off the treadmill. I don’t have set goals, I don’t feel I have to live up to someone else’s expectations. I can just
be.
”

“That’s the magic of being at Sea Breeze,” Dora said. “But it’s not real.”

“Isn’t it?” Harper asked rhetorically.

“No. You’re on vacation,” Dora persisted.

Harper let her gaze sweep the vast wetlands that stretched across the vista. “Mamaw, you never made me feel like I had to measure up to some standard here. Quite the opposite. As far as you were concerned, I was family and all that was required of me was my occasional presence.” She glanced at Mamaw with a wry grin. “That and good manners.”

Mamaw made a face.

Harper stared down at her sweet tea and stirred the ice with her finger. “It sounds escapist, I realize that,” she said. “But when I come here to Sea Breeze . . . I don’t know how to explain it.” She looked back out at the Cove. “I feel so far away from that other world. It’s truly different here. Time is inconsequential. My internal clock is set by the sun and the moon and the tides. I feel unfettered. And, if I stay long enough, in the stillness I sense something’s opening up inside. Something important.”

A short silence fell as Harper continued staring out at the vista.

Harper looked back at the two women and shook her head, seemingly embarrassed for the confession. “I’m sure that all sounds very New Age or whatever. I’m okay, really I am,” she said evasively.

There followed another momentary silence. Dora looked at Mamaw to see her studying Harper.

“Girls,” Mamaw said, her eyes gleaming. “I’ve just had the best idea.”

Eager for a change of subject, Harper brightened. “I’m all ears.”

Mamaw set her book aside and leaned forward, closer to the girls. “Dora, you love gardening and know a lot about it. Harper, you want to learn how to garden. Why don’t the two of you take this poor pitiful garden on as a project? It’s something to work on together. I’ll supply the plants. I’ll even pull out my garden gloves and help you. What do you say?”

“Mamaw,” Harper said with enthusiasm. “That’s a splendid idea!”

“I don’t know,” Dora said, dragging her heels on the idea. She already had so much on her plate. “Do you have any idea how much work is involved? And how hot it is out there?”

“But, Dora,” Mamaw said, a bit put out. “You love gardening. It doesn’t have to be a massive project, like your garden in Summerville. It won’t take that much time if you keep it small. Besides, isn’t gardening supposed to be good for the soul?”

Dora cast a dubious glance at her grandmother. She stood and looked out over the garden, her finger tapping against her lips as she considered the possibilities. It might be good for her to get her hands back in the soil again, she thought. To create
something. She needed creativity in her life—what woman didn’t? It occurred to her that she’d let that important part of her life go.

“We’d have to come up with a plan, first,” Dora said.

Harper opened her laptop with alacrity. “Right.”

“It’s already midsummer, so we’ll only want plants that can withstand the lowcountry summer heat. I don’t know what the garden centers have left in stock. Offhand, sweetgrass would be nice, and they don’t flower till October, a profusion of pink fluffy heaven. It will look showy when you put the house on the market, Mamaw. Then there are hardy plants like gaillardia, lantana, verbena . . .”

“Slow down,” Harper said. “I’m typing them up.”

“And roses,” Mamaw added, getting swept up in the idea. “We must have a few roses.”

“Roses too,” Dora said with a dramatic sigh. “If that’s what you want. There are knockout roses now that can handle the heat. We’ll plant them just for you. Harper, when you research plants, remember to keep in mind zones. This is Sullivan’s Island, not the Hamptons.”

Harper snorted. “That much I figured out.”

Mamaw clapped her hands. “Oh, girls, this is a wonderful idea!”

The pounding ceased and a sudden peace descended.

“I’m heading inside in search of breakfast,” Dora said. “Or is it lunchtime? Whatever, my diet is all pretty much the same these days—vegetables and fruit. By the way, where is Lucille? I haven’t seen her pattering about in the kitchen.”

“She has a doctor’s appointment. She’ll be back soon,” Mamaw answered, picking up her book again.

Dora’s brow furrowed with concern. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Darlin’,” Mamaw said, “at our age, we go in for regular maintenance.”

Dora walked off to the kitchen. Before she left the porch, she looked back to see Harper bent over her laptop, her fingers tapping away. Harper was always typing. What was going on in that clever mind of hers? She’d discovered this morning how little she really knew about her. Digging around a bit might indeed be a good idea.

It was a hot and steamy July morning that made even a lowcountry girl sweat. The air-conditioning in the cottage rumbled noisily but did a poor job cooling the space. Carson’s alarm went off at seven. She’d blearily opened her eyes as the sunlight pierced through the drawn curtains, but Nate was already awake, playing his video game. She figured it gave him a measure of comfort in the strange place and she let him play until it was time to dress.

They spoke little as they fumbled through the morning routine. The dreaded shower was not mentioned and Nate dressed himself in his usual soft-fabric, elastic-waist clothing. Breakfast was touch and go in the hotel’s dining room. Nate scrutinized every option, laboriously deciding a blended fruit yogurt and a piece of white toast was acceptable. He was amused by the packaging of the tiny boxes of cereal and took one, though he ate little of the cereal. For Carson, coffee was enough and she drank it like a camel, storing caffeine in her body for whatever surprises the day held.

It was a short drive to the Dolphin Research Center, barely long enough for the air-conditioning to cool the car. Yet Nate was already anxious when they pulled into the parking lot beside the giant sculpture of a dolphin and a calf. Nate danced on the balls of his feet, tugging at her skirt to hurry her as she locked the car. They walked at a clip through the front entrance and the gift shop, past souvenirs and T-shirts that held no interest for Nate. He tapped his fingers by his mouth as she registered at the desk and received their passes. As soon as she opened the door to the park, Nate shot out and began running.

“Nate! Wait!” she called out, and took off after him on the winding walkway past cages of exotic birds calling hello, a water park, and a few quaint cottages. She turned the corner to see Nate standing frozen, arms out stiffly in an arrested posture. Before him a large lagoon spread out along the glistening Gulf of Mexico.

“Why did you run off?” she asked, catching up to his side.

Nate didn’t respond. He remained motionless, staring in disbelief and wonder at the lagoon. Only his fingers moved, and they trembled.

“Are you okay?” she asked, suddenly concerned that he was on the verge of a meltdown.

Then she heard the high-pitched whistle. To her ears it was a concerto of welcome that she translated in her heart. In the front of the lagoon she saw five dolphins clustered along the walkway, watching the passersby and waiting. Returning her gaze to Nate, she understood immediately why he’d balked.

“Do you see all the dolphins, Nate? Isn’t it wonderful?”

“I can’t go near them.”

“Yes, of course you can. That’s why we’re here.”

“No. Blake said we are not supposed to go near the dolphins.”

“Blake was talking about the wild dolphins. The dolphins in the Cove. These dolphins live in this lagoon. It’s their home. It’s okay to visit them, Nate.”

“I . . . I don’t want to hurt them,” he said in a trembling voice.

Her heart nearly broke at hearing this. She’d known that he was deeply disturbed by Delphine’s accident at the dock. But she’d never understood how much blame he’d assumed for his part in it. She could hear in his voice that he’d taken on
all
the blame, and that was far too big a burden for these young shoulders to bear.

She knelt next to him and spoke gently. “Nate, what happened to Delphine was an accident. It was my fault for bringing her to the dock in the first place. But she’s doing better. She’s going to be okay. You’ll see for yourself when I take you to see her. These dolphins are healthy. They’re used to people visiting them. Here, it’s okay for us to swim with them. We can get close to them. That’s why I brought you here. So you can understand the difference between dolphins that live in a facility like this one and dolphins in the wild. Okay?”

He brought his fingers to his mouth.

“Listen! They’re whistling for you. They want you to come over. Let’s get closer, okay?”

She led the way to the covered walkway that lined the front lagoon. It was a beautiful, natural setting with seawater and fish flowing in and out. Nate inched closer to the rope fence that bordered the lagoon. He peered over the edge, poised for flight. Just
a month earlier, Nate had run down the dock at Sea Breeze and leaped into the Cove. He’d been fearless with Delphine. Now Carson watched his cautious, even timid posture and felt the weight of her responsibility in helping this boy through his sense of loss.

A long, sleek dolphin swam right beneath Nate, tilted to look up at him, then began making clicking sounds. Carson was relieved when she saw Nate smile.

“Mrs. Tupper?”

Carson turned toward the voice. A slender woman with flowing brown hair in nylon fishing pants and a pale blue dolphin T-shirt approached, carrying a clipboard. She smiled as she drew near, and her beautiful, warm eyes captured Carson’s attention, making her feel welcome.

“I’m Carson Muir. Nate Tupper’s aunt. I’m here with him for the program.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Joan, the director of the program. I’ll be working with Nate this week.”

“Thank you for squeezing us in on short notice.”

“Happy to do it. I understand we have a little boy who’s had a bad experience with a dolphin.” Her gaze searched out Nate. When she found him leaning over the rope fence making clicking noises back to the dolphin, a grin spread across her face. “I’m pretty sure the dolphins are going to take good care of him.”