The Beach House

“Oh, I’m fine, fine,” she said, dismissing Cara’s tone of concern with a flip of her hand. “Nothing much one can do to stop the ruins of Rome. I’ve given up trying.” Her eyes brightened as she looked up at her daughter. “But look at you. Don’t you look wonderful!”

Cara looked down at her rumpled white shirt and dark jeans that pinched her waist. She’d woken before dawn that morning, splashed cold water on her face and dressed in a hurry, not taking the time for makeup and allowing her dark hair to hang in disarray to her shoulders.

“I do not. My clothes are a wreck and I smell of fast food.”

“You look wonderful to me. I can’t get over it. You’re here! I about fainted when you called to say you were coming. Thank the Lord.”

“Mama, the Lord had nothing to do with it. You wrote me a letter asking me to come and I came.”

“That’s what you think. I’m old enough to know better. Now let’s not argue,” she chided, linking arms, squeezing gently. “I’ve prayed that you’d come back home and now my prayers have been answered.” They began to walk slowly toward the house. Lovie turned her head to peer into Cara’s face. “Why do you look at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re in shock.”

“I don’t know. You seem different. So…happy.”

“Why, of course I’m happy! Why shouldn’t I be?”

Cara shrugged. “I dunno…I guess from your letter I expected you to be rather lonely. Maybe a little depressed. It hasn’t been that long since Daddy died.”

Lovie’s expression shifted and, as usual, Cara couldn’t read the emotion behind her smile.

“I didn’t mean for my letter to sound sad. Wistful, perhaps.”

“Do you miss him?”

She brought her hand to Cara’s cheek. “I miss you. Especially here. We had good times on the island, didn’t we?”

Cara nodded, touched by the emotion in her mother’s voice. “We did. You and me. And Palmer.” She refrained from adding her father’s name. He’d rarely come to the beach house, preferring to stay in the city or to travel. And though it was never discussed among them, it was quietly understood that the summers were all the better for the arrangement.

“Oh, yes,” Lovie said with a light chuckle. “And Palmer, too.”

“How is my wild and crazy brother?”

“Neither wild nor crazy. More’s the pity.”

Cara’s brows rose. “Well, that’s a bit out of character for you. I seem to remember you and Daddy holding tight the reins whenever Palmer rode the wild roads and waves of his youth. I’ll have to mull that one over—once I get over the shock of you criticizing the royal heir.”

Her mother only laughed. “How long can you stay?”

“A week.”

“Is that all? Cara, dear, you’re always so busy. Please stay a bit longer.”

Cara slowed down to consider. She really had no deadline and her mother seemed so anxious. It might be nice to relax a while. “Maybe I can take a bit more time. That’s what’s nice about driving. No ticket to ride.” She paused. “Is it all right to be open-ended?”

“It’s more than all right. It’s perfect.” She patted Cara’s arm, leading the way across the sand-strewn path into the house. “Come inside. You must be exhausted after your long trip. Are you hungry? I don’t have a meal ready but I’ll scrounge around and find something.”

“Don’t go to any trouble. I’ve done nothing but nibble in the car for fourteen hours.”

“What time did you leave Chicago?”

“Before five,” Cara replied, stifling a yawn.

“Why push yourself so hard, dear? You should have taken two days, maybe three, and stopped at a few places along the way. The mountains are so beautiful this time of year.”

“Yeah, well, you know me. Once I’m on the road I like to get where I’m going.”

“Yes, you do,” her mother replied with a teasing glint in her eye. “You always do.”

Looking at the house as she climbed the porch steps, Cara saw further signs of the house’s age. It was worse than she’d first suspected. The back porch was sagging, the border shrubs were a jungle of overgrowth, a shutter was missing and in spots the paint had peeled clear to the wood. “The old place looks like it could use some work.”

“This poor old house…It takes a lot of abuse from the weather. Always it’s nip and tuck, nip and tuck.”

“It’s a lot for you to do alone. Doesn’t Palmer help you keep things up?”

“Palmer? Well, he tries, but the main house keeps him pretty busy with its own list of chores. And then there’s the business. And his family.” Her brows knit and her lips tightened, a sign she was holding words back. “He has his own troubles. I get along well enough on my own. Oh, look at my primroses,” she exclaimed, pointing at a nearby clump. “Aren’t they beautiful this year?” She closed her eyes and sniffed. “Can you catch their lemony scent?”

Cara couldn’t decide if her mother had adroitly changed the subject or was just easily distracted. But she could feel the miles she’d driven that day weigh as heavily as the suitcase hanging from her arm and the last thing she wanted to do was stand in the enveloping darkness and smell the flowers.

“I’m bushed. I’d really love to drop this load and have something cold and wet and alcoholic, if you’ve got it.”

“How’s a gin and tonic sound?”

Cara almost purred.

They passed through the screened porch, cluttered with old rattan furniture, a mildewed canvas beach bag loaded with miscellaneous beach supplies and assorted rusted garden tools. Lovie paused, resting her hand against the wall as she slipped her feet from her sand-crusted running shoes. Cara noticed with a start that there was a small, pale space on her mother’s ring finger where a band of gold and a large, Tiffany-cut diamond had rested for forty-two years.

“Mama, where’s your wedding ring?”

Flustered, her mother looked down at her hand, then began swatting the sand from her skirt. “Oh, that big ol’ thing? I took it off after your father died. I only wore it to please him. I never much liked wearing it. It got in the way and was such a bother here at the beach. I expect I’ll leave it to Cooper to give to his bride someday.”

Cooper was Palmer’s young son, and true to form, her mother was doting on the only male to carry on the proud Rutledge name.

“Scrape your feet, hear? I’ll never get used to the amount of sand that gets tracked into the house.”

Cara obliged. “What were you doing on the beach so late?”

“Why, we’ve already had two turtle nests!”

Cara’s eyes glittered with both amusement and resignation. “I thought you looked for tracks in the morning.”

“We do. I just wanted to check that everything was in order. You know me. I’m always a little excited when the season starts.” Her face scrunched in distress. “I didn’t move this nest and I’m not sure if I shouldn’t have. Ordinarily I would have. It’s a bit low on the tideline.” She tsked and shook her head. “The Department of Natural Resources is quite strict these days and doesn’t want the nests moved unless it’s urgent. Oh, I don’t know….” she fretted. “If the tide comes in high, the nest could be ruined. Maybe I should have moved it.”

“Mama, you made your decision. It’s done. Let it lie.” In Cara’s job she made a thousand decisions a day and never understood how some people could waffle back and forth. But she knew it wasn’t just the indecision that annoyed her. It was the turtles. It was always the turtles. From May till October, every year for as far back as she could remember, her mother’s life had revolved around the loggerheads. And so, by default, had hers and Palmer’s.

“I know, you’re right. I can’t move them now anyway and I’m just fussing.” Her face clouded before she turned toward the door. “Come in. Let me make you that drink.”