Page 12 of That Last Carolina Summer

“Annie!” Ophelia dropped down to her knees to hug my dog, who reciprocated with wet kisses.

I watched as Phoebe approached. Her clothing and ponytail were simple, yet she managed to stand out in a crowd. She was of average height with a slim build easily hidden beneath baggy jeans and a T-shirt. She smiled as she approached, clearly not aware of just how beautiful she was.

“Hello again,” I said.

“Hi.” Phoebe looked down at my open sketch book. “Wow. You told me you were an artist, but—wow. That’s incredible.”

“Thank you.” I turned the sketch pad so she could see the drawing better.

“I think I’ll use this for the new piece I’m starting to work on.

I just need to study the great blue heron a bit more to get the personality of the bird.

” I grinned. “I don’t think I need to explain what I mean to a twitcher. ”

She smiled back at me. “No, you don’t. They’re fascinating birds. They’re also quite clever. I love how they wade through water stirring up silt and mud to find food. Much easier than perching for hours or flying overhead in the hopes of catching their dinner.”

“We humans could learn a lot from watching birds.”

“True. I’ve heard that if you spot a blue heron it could be an omen that if you’re searching for something, you’ll have to stir up some dirt to get information to rise.

Sounds about right to me. I might include that in my next blog.

” She tented her hands across her forehead to shield her eyes as she gazed across the harbor through the alley of palmetto trees toward the Charleston skyline.

“I haven’t been here in years. My aunt Sassy and I used to come here to walk my dog, Bailey.

It’s a great place to bird-watch—even better than the dock behind my house.

” She slapped at her arm. “It seems the midges and mosquitoes are the same.”

I dug into my bag and handed her a bottle of bug spray.

“Thank you.” Phoebe took the bottle and began spraying her exposed skin. “I grew up here. You’d think I’d remember.”

“Can I walk Annie to the end and come right back?” Ophelia bounced on her toes with excitement in dirty white Keds.

I handed her Annie’s leash, and she headed toward the end of the walkway where pilings from the old vehicle bridge jutted out from the water like ghostly arms. Annie barked at a large brown pelican flying low over the pedestrians before perching on one of the pilings, its long bill tucked against its chest in silent perusal of a teenaged boy fishing off the edge of the pier.

“Maybe in your head you’re still in Oregon,” I said.

“It takes a while to reacclimate. I was gone for five years but never felt like I’d left.

There’s something about the scent of the marsh at low tide that I could never leave behind.

It’s like a magnet, isn’t it? This place.

It pulls us back no matter how far we wander. ”

Phoebe joined me on the bench, keeping her gaze across the harbor at the majestic spires of the Ravenel Bridge, her face still, her beautiful skin glowing in the late afternoon sun. “I try not to think about it.”

She brought her ragged thumbnail to her mouth, and I wanted to touch her arm, tell her to stop.

“I always wonder if there’s a rogue bird or two who flies to South America for the winter and then decides to stay there full-time.

It can’t just be humans who sometimes decide to move for a change of pace. ”

Phoebe gave me a lopsided grin. “I think that’s a wholly human prerogative. Birds migrate by instinct for survival, but who knows?”

We both smiled, but her posture remained tense.

I wondered if she was thinking about her own flight across the country and why she’d deemed it necessary for her survival.

There were so many questions I wanted to ask, some to which I already knew the answers.

I should have told her then that I knew who she was.

That I knew at least part of why she’d left and let her decide if she wanted to get up and walk away from me right then. But I couldn’t. She was my last hope.

I drew a deep breath. “Do you plan to stay on the West Coast forever? It must be hard with your family all here.”

She laughed. “Actually, that makes it easier.” When I didn’t say anything, she added, “There’s always been a lot of drama that surrounds my sister, Ophelia’s mom.

It gets magnified when I’m under the same roof mostly because my mother sees the need to pick sides regardless of who’s in the wrong, and apparently that’s always me.

There’s a lot of storming away and door-slamming.

I think that’s why Ophelia prefers to stay under the radar, her nose deep in a book.

I did the same thing when I was her age, so I can relate.

But this visit is a little different.” She pressed her lips together.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.

I usually don’t talk about any of this with anyone. ”

“I’m easy to talk to.” I gave her an encouraging smile. “I think it’s the white hair. Gives me an air of wisdom.”

She smiled, gave a small shrug. “Must be. You’re a good listener.”

“Thank you. I learned how to listen without judging while raising my daughter and two grandchildren and then working in a nursing home. It’s certainly an acquired skill.”

Phoebe nodded, then focused her attention on her hands.

“You were saying something about this visit being different?” I prompted.

“My mother... isn’t well. It’s why I’m here. Addie—my sister—asked me to come home to help her manage.”

“I’m sorry.”

She looked down at her hands again, flattening them against her thighs so I could see the rough edges of the nails and cuticles of a habitual nail-biter.

“Me, too. I’ve only been home for two days, and there’s a lot to absorb, but mostly it’s like I’m seeing Ophelia for the first time.

My mother was responsible for most of Ophelia’s care, but that’s changed now.

And without the constant supervision, she seems.

.. adrift. With my sister working nights and my mom not able to care for Ophelia like she used to, my niece is basically left alone all day to fend for herself.

Taking my mother to a doctor’s appointment seems a lot more manageable than fixing what’s wrong with my sister’s mothering skills. ”

“I can imagine it’s a lot for you to handle. What about your father? Can he help?”

“No. He’s been gone a long time. He had a heart attack at his law office on Broad Street downtown when he was only fifty-nine.”

“Your poor mother. That must have been hard to lose him so early.”

She stared at me as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her before. “Yeah, you’re probably right. They’d been married since their sophomore year at Clemson. People were terrified of him, but Mother had him wrapped around her finger. They adored each other.”

Phoebe shifted on the bench, her hands gingerly touching her ribs. “Remember how I told you I was struck by lightning?”

I nodded, holding my breath.

“A local boy—the son of a shrimper, I think—saved my life by giving me CPR. He’d been in his jonboat fishing when he saw the storm roll in and was pulling his boat to the neighbor’s dock and saw it happen.

That’s how he got there so fast. Anyway, he broke some of my ribs while saving my life. So my dad sued his family.”

“That’s terrible,” I said through stiff lips.

“I know. The worst part is that I didn’t know any of that until my sister let it slip at my father’s funeral. I never even knew the boy’s name, even though I’d asked my dad to find out so we could thank him. Maybe invite him over for dinner. Daddy must have found that hilarious. I know Addie did.”

“Were you close with your father?” I asked.

Phoebe shook her head. “Not really. I can’t say I even knew him that well.

He was always working. And when not working as a lawyer, he was throwing his weight as a longtime town council member.

He was always proud of my report cards and would announce to friends and family that I’d inherited his brains and Addie had inherited Mother’s looks.

It took me years to realize that he was basically calling Addie dumb and me ugly . ”

“Well,” I said, my voice bristling with anger, “he must have had terrible eyesight.”

“Not really,” she said matter-of-factly. “You haven’t seen my sister.” Phoebe turned to me. “So why did you leave?”

Now, I thought. I can tell her now. “My granddaughter—”

“Aunt Phoebe, help!”

We both turned to see Ophelia laughing in the middle of the boardwalk trapped by Annie’s leash and that of an angry and yipping dachshund. The dachshund’s owner, a teenaged girl, was trying ineffectively to talk her dog into unwrapping itself from Ophelia’s legs.

“Hang on,” I said placing my bag on top of my sketch pad before rushing over to pick up Annie and unlatch her leash. Ophelia sat down on the walkway, still laughing as the dachshund jumped in her lap and began licking her face.

I helped the teenager gather her dog and leash then returned to the bench where Phoebe waited, her eyes on the blushing horizon.

I wished I’d brought my paints and canvas.

Not just to recreate the brilliance of the sky and the setting sun, but to paint this scarred, lonely woman and show her how the world saw her.

I sat down with Annie on my lap to watch as the sun melted into Charleston Harbor. Phoebe and Ophelia remained standing, and I watched as Ophelia leaned her head against Phoebe’s side. After a brief hesitation, Phoebe’s arm came around the girl’s shoulder.

A hush descended on the bridge as pedestrians paused to watch the sun set, the silence broken only by the percussive chatter of insects and the occasional whisper.

No one moved until the orange ball had been absorbed by the water, leaving a glowing stripe of pink along the horizon as if to remind us that just because we couldn’t see it didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

As the other spectators began to gather their things and leave the boardwalk, Phoebe and Ophelia remained where they were. Phoebe was saying something to her niece, her teacher’s voice quiet yet clearly audible.

“This phase of twilight right after the sun dips below the horizon is called civil twilight. It’s when the brightest stars are visible, and if you’re outside, you don’t need any other light to see.

I’ve always loved the name of it because it sounds so polite, which it should be since it’s the bridge between day and night.

And sometimes, if the timing is right, you can see the sun set on one side of this boardwalk, and the full moon, in all of its beauty, rise on the other. It’s a glorious thing to see.”

Ophelia pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Do you know all of that because you’re a teacher?”

Phoebe smiled. “No. My aunt taught me that when I was about your age. And now I’m passing it on to you.” She dropped her arm from Ophelia’s shoulders and turned to me. “We should all get going before it’s too dark to see where we’re stepping.”

I put Annie down and stood. “I enjoyed our conversation. I hope we have the opportunity to chat again soon.”

“Me, too,” Phoebe said.

“You have my number,” I said. “Call anytime. I turn off the ringer when I’m painting, but I have an old-fashioned answering machine, so leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

We said our goodbyes, and Annie sniffed the area around the bench while I watched them walk away. I recalled what Phoebe had said about the moon, and how she’d called it glorious . I wanted to go after her and remind her that the moon had scars, too, but people only saw its beauty.

But I stayed where I was, watching them disappear from view as the sky deepened into night.