Twice in a Lifetime (13 page)

S
he was like one of the ghost crabs, Georgia decided several days later. Running to duck into a hole in the sand at the slightest sign of any disturbance in her world.

She stood at the sliding glass door, looking out at waves foaming gently on the shore. Miz Callie sat in her beach chair, her battered straw hat perched on her head. As a con-cession to the growing heat, her striped beach umbrella was tilted at an angle to block the sun. Lindsay, a few yards away, was intent on her sand castle.

Georgia shoved the door open and stepped outside. Her own thoughts weren’t particularly good company. She’d join them and talk about something—anything—else.

She trotted down the steps, grabbed a beach chair from underneath the deck and walked down to them.

Miz Callie looked up with a welcoming smile. “Glad you decided to come out.”

Georgia sank into the chair, tilting her face toward the breeze. “I feel as if I ought to be doing something more useful than sitting here.”

“Nonsense. You need a little rest.” Miz Callie shot her

a shrewd glance. “Any chance you’re ready now to tell me what happened when you and Matt went to the island?”

“I…I don’t know what you mean.” She’d always thought her grandmother could read her thoughts, and this just proved it. “I told you what we did.”

“Sugar, taking a tour of the property isn’t enough to make you as distracted as you’ve been ever since you got back. If you don’t want to tell me, you can always say I should mind my own business.”

“I would never say that.” And she didn’t want to. She valued her grandmother’s solid wisdom too much for that. “I told Matt about what happened with James.”

“I thought you might.”

“Well, I didn’t. I didn’t expect to tell him. I hardly know him.”

But she had, and his reaction had surprised her. She could still feel the warm, comforting weight of his arm around her shoulders.

“At a guess, I’d say he understood.”

“Yes.” He’d understood—or at least he hadn’t blamed her for feeling she couldn’t go on with James once she realized his true character.

“He’s a good man,” Miz Callie said. “In spite of being from up north. A little too private, but he has integrity.”

The way Miz Callie said it left no doubt that she valued that quality highly.

Georgia stared at a shrimp boat making its way slowly parallel to the shore, its nets down. “I thought maybe he’d feel I should have been glad to further James’s career. That’s what Mamma said. It’s James’s career that’s important. He was trying to get ahead for my sake. Wasn’t I willing to sacrifice for him?”

The words came out in a rush, and she hadn’t realized

until this moment how much they’d rankled, like a splinter she couldn’t get out.

“Maybe she’s right. Maybe I didn’t love him enough to sacrifice for him.”

“Don’t be foolish, child.” Miz Callie’s voice was as tart as it ever got. “If he’d come to you, asked you to help him, of course you’d have done it, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded. Of course she would. “That wasn’t James’s way. He didn’t ask. He took.”

“Not a good quality in a husband, I’d say. And if your mamma had thought it through, she’d say the same. Goodness, she wouldn’t want someone like that in the family.”

Wouldn’t she? Georgia wasn’t so sure of that, but she felt stronger knowing that Miz Callie understood.

Lindsay came running up to them and flopped down on a towel at Miz Callie’s feet. “Hot.” She pushed damp hair back from her forehead.

“You need to spend a little time in the shade, sugar.” Miz Callie handed her a water bottle. “Goodness, what was I thinkin’, letting you stay out in the heat this long?”

Lindsay leaned against her knee. “Tell me a story, please? About when you were a little girl on the island.”

Georgia’s attention sharpened. That was what she wanted to hear, too, but they had different reasons.

Miz Callie smiled, her eyes seeming to focus on the past. “When I was a little girl, the island was so different, you couldn’t imagine.” The smile faded a little. “That was a long time ago, back in the 1940s. We were at war then.” She touched Lindsay’s hair lightly. “I pray you never have to experience that.”

“I know about that. I have a doll that my Grammy gave me, with a book about living then.”

“It was hard all over. Here, the military took over a lot

of the island. Why, there were folks in uniform everywhere you looked, and big guns along the shore in places.” Lindsay’s eyes grew wide. “What were the guns for?” “Folks said the enemy might bring their submarines in real close.” Miz Callie caught herself, probably thinking that might not be a suitable story for a child. “Anyway, it was exciting for us kids. We played just like we always had, except for our parents being more particular about us

getting in early.”

“I don’t like to go in while it’s still light out,” Lindsay observed. “Except Daddy lets me watch television.”

“We didn’t have television then, you know. We had the radio, and sometimes we’d listen to that.” She shook her head. “Funny. I s’pose the parents listened to the news, but all I remember hearing is the music. ‘Tangerine,’ played by the Jimmy Dorsey band. That was one we listened to over and over.”

Miz Callie’s memory of those days seemed to be getting clearer and clearer.

“Did you go swimming in the ocean?” Lindsay prompted, apparently not interested in long-ago radio programs.

“We went swimming, sure thing. And crabbing. We loved to go crabbing. One of the older boys would take us.” A faint shadow crossed her face, and Georgia knew she was thinking of Ned. “We’d bring back a mess of crabs and then have a crab boil, right here on the beach.”

“That sounds so fun.” Lindsay’s tone was wistful. “I wish I could do that.”

“Maybe you will.” Miz Callie leaned back in the chair, her eyes closing.

For an instant she looked her age, and Georgia’s heart hurt. Did Miz Callie want to share her memories because she feared one day soon she wouldn’t be able to?

“Maybe you ought to go in and take a rest.” Georgia

made the suggestion tentatively, knowing how little Miz Callie liked being told what to do. “It is awful hot today.” Her grandmother planted her hands on the arms of her chair. “I haven’t checked the nest yet. I have to make sure

those visitors haven’t been back, fooling with it again.” “I’ll do that.” She rose as her grandmother did,

touching her arm. “Lindsay and I will do that for you, won’t we, Lindsay?”

The child scrambled to her feet. “Sure we will, Miz Callie. We’ll take care of it.”

Miz Callie split a smile between the two of them. “Well, then, I guess I can’t say no. Ya’ll come in and have some nice cold lemonade when you get back, y’heah?”

She’d suggest Miz Callie lie down for a while, but that wouldn’t be well received. “Yes, ma’am. And I’ll bring the chairs and umbrella when I come, so just leave them.”

To her surprise, that didn’t lead to an argument. Her grandmother nodded and walked slowly toward the house. Lindsay watched her as intently as Georgia. “Is Miz

Callie sick?” Anxiety filled her voice.

The poor child—she’d had enough losses.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine once she gets inside where it’s cool. Ready to check the nest?”

Lindsay slipped her feet into the sandals she’d discarded while building her castle. “I’m ready.”

They walked down the beach together. It was easy enough to spare Miz Callie by checking the nest. Not so easy to resolve the bigger burden that weighed on her. So far they’d come up with exactly nothing to explain why Ned had left or what had happened to him afterward.

“A lot of people Miz Callie knows died, didn’t they?” The child’s voice was so solemn that for an instant Georgia wondered if she was talking about Ned. But no,

they hadn’t discussed that in front of her.

“I guess so.” Since she didn’t know what prompted the question, she’d better be cautious in her answer. “Miz Callie’s lived a long time. She’d say that it’s natural that some folks she loved would go ahead of her to Heaven.”

“But it makes her sad. And mad sometimes, too.” Lindsay’s face wore an expression of utmost concentration. They were no longer talking about Miz Callie. They were talking about Lindsay and her losses.

“I’m sure it makes her feel sad and angry sometimes,” she said carefully. “But she knows they’re safe with Jesus, and she knows she’ll see them again someday.”

“That’s what my grammy says about my mommy.” Lindsay’s lips pressed together, as if to hold something back. “Does that make you angry?” She ventured a question,

knowing she was out of her depth.

“No.” Lindsay snapped the word, her face assuming a stoic facade.

Like the one Matthew wore at times. Somehow she didn’t think stoicism was working well for either of them.
Dear Lord, show me what to say to this child. She’s hurting more than I imagined, and I haven’t the faintest

idea how to help her.

And she didn’t have the right to help her, either—it felt like she was interfering. But did that matter, if Lindsay turned to her?

“Lindsay…”

Before she could find any words, Lindsay darted across the sand. “There’s the nest,” she cried.

Georgia followed, half relieved, half sorry that Lindsay wasn’t going to open up to her after all.

“Everything looks okay.” Georgia tightened the tape on one of the sticks. “I don’t think anybody has bothered it.” “Have to make sure.” Lindsay made a circle around the

nest, touching each stick with her fingers.

Georgia’s heart clenched. It reminded her of that first day, when she’d watched the child lining up the seashells just so.

Her circuit done, Lindsay sat down where Miz Callie always sat when she visited the nest. With another silent prayer for guidance, Georgia sat down next to her.

Lindsay stared at the nest. “We have to take care of the baby turtles.” Her face was solemn. “They don’t have anyone else.”

Please, Lord,
her heart murmured. “The mamma turtle put the eggs in a safe place. Unless someone comes along and bothers it—”

“She went away!” The words burst out of Lindsay. “Their mother just went away and left them.”

Her heart seemed to be lodged in her throat. “That’s in the nature of sea turtles,” she said slowly, carefully. “The mamma turtles travel a very long way to lay their eggs on the same beach every year. That’s what their instinct tells them to do.”

She dared a look at Lindsay, praying she was taking the right tack with her. The child sat with her knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them. Her head was bent, her hair falling forward to expose the nape of her neck.

The sight of that pale, fragile column did funny things to Georgia. The urge to protect stormed through her, taking her breath away with its strength.

She’s not my responsibility. Instinct, compelling as the instinct that drove the turtles, countered that feeble claim. Lindsay had come to her—why, she didn’t know. She had to find a way to help her.

“People aren’t turtles.” Lindsay whispered the words. “They’re not s’posed to leave their children.”

She touched the curve of the child’s back. “No, people aren’t meant to be like that. Mammas want to protect and

help their children grow.” She took a deep breath. “But sometimes they can’t, no matter how much they might want to.”

“I didn’t want my mom to die.” There was still that trace of anger in the words.

“Of course you didn’t, sugar.” The touch turned into a caress. To her surprise, Lindsay didn’t pull away. “You know, it’s natural to feel angry with your mamma for dying, even though you know it wasn’t her fault.”

Silence for a moment. “That’s what Dr. Annie said.” “Dr. Annie sounds like a wise woman.” Obviously Matt

had tried to get professional help for his daughter.

“I guess.” Her mouth clamped shut on the words. The shield came down over her expression again. It was as if the tide were carrying her away, and Georgia couldn’t reach her now, no matter how she tried.

“Lindsay…”

This time the child did pull away from her touch, but she had to keep trying, even if it did no good.

“Lindsay, you should talk to your daddy about how you’re feeling. He’d understand, really he would.”

She shook her head, her face stoic. “I can’t. He’d get upset. I can’t.” She jumped to her feet. “I have to go.”

“Wait.” But it was too late. Lindsay was already running down the beach.

Running to find a hole to hide in. She understood the feeling. It was what she did, all too often. She couldn’t, not now. If she were going to help Lindsay, to say nothing of Miz Callie, she’d have to stop hiding and start speaking her mind.

Georgia hadn’t imagined, when she’d mentioned going to see Miz Callie’s sister in Beaufort, that Matt would have the slightest interest in joining her. She’d been wrong. At the moment he was frowning as he negotiated the

heavy traffic along the strip development on the other side of the Ashley River.

“You really didn’t have to come today. I could have talked to my great-aunt on my own.”

He shot her a glance, his eyes unreadable behind his sunglasses. “Didn’t want me butting in on it?”

“It’s not that.” He smiled, and she realized he’d been teasing her. She was unaccountably flustered today.

Well, maybe not unaccountably.

She ought to be honest with herself, at least. She’d been aware of Matt’s magnetism since the moment they met, when she’d still considered him the enemy. Then, that day they’d played with Lindsay in the surf, she’d felt the pull of attraction between them, strong as the ebb tide.

She’d been able to handle that. But once they’d kissed… She could still handle it, she assured herself hurriedly. Neither of them was ready for anything serious now, and both of them realized it. That should be protection enough. “It wasn’t a problem to come with you. Lindsay is happy with the sitter your grandmother recommended. I just feel I haven’t done enough for Miz Callie,” Matt said.

“Not nearly enough.”

There was an undercurrent in his voice that she didn’t entirely understand.

“You’ve set the wheels in motion for turning the land into a preserve, just as she wants.”