Page 22 of That Last Carolina Summer

Her eyes narrowed with anger, her expression gradually softening as a reluctant grin crossed her face. “That sounded weird, didn’t it? Sorry. I watch a lot of film noir, so my mind gravitates toward plot twists.” She became serious again. “So please give me a better answer because I’m confused.”

“I’m sorry. I truly am. If it makes you feel any better, I hadn’t even realized Ophelia might be related to you until I saw you together. Meaning I didn’t really have time to come up with a long-simmering revenge plot.” She didn’t return my smile.

I continued. “I harbor no ill-feelings toward you or your family. The only person against whom I might hold a grudge is your father, and he’s been gone a long time.

If I felt any ill-will against your mother—which I don’t—it would have disappeared as soon as I saw her.

I remember your father was a lot like a bull in a china shop, charging at anything he considered a threat to his family.

I imagine your mother, as strong as she might have once been, chose other avenues in which to exert her influence and left the nasty business of defending your family up to him. ”

Phoebe looked down in her lap as a smile softened her face. “Yeah. That would be about right.”

“It wasn’t a surprise to me or anyone who knew his reputation that he would sue my family because my grandson had broken your ribs while saving your life.

I had to hire my own lawyer, which nearly bankrupted me, but Liam and I survived.

What almost broke me was the disappearance of my granddaughter. Liam’s sister, Julie.”

“Julie Fitch? That’s your granddaughter?”

I nodded.

“I only vaguely remember the story, which is probably why I didn’t get the connection when I learned your last name.

I’m so sorry. It was all anybody could talk about for a while—except for us.

Mother and Daddy forbade us from discussing it at home because they said it would be too upsetting.

They threw away the newspapers, too, so all my knowledge is from what my best friend, Mary-Simms McSwain, told me at school.

Which didn’t really amount to a lot. She lived in Charleston, so she and her family were a little removed from us here in Mount Pleasant.

Even Addie wouldn’t talk about it with me.

So all I can recall is that Julie stayed after school for something and never came home.

Did you ever find out what happened to her? ”

“That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?

We still don’t know. She was in her final semester her senior year at Wando.

She’d stayed late one night after choir practice to go over a song on one of the practice pianos—we didn’t have one—and that’s the last time she or her car was ever seen.

The police and the private detectives I hired couldn’t find any trace of her.

Once in a while there will be renewed interest in the case, but it’s been almost seventeen years.

If there are clues out there, they’ve either long disappeared or are too well-hidden to ever be found.

” I sighed. “I know it’s not likely the case, but I like to tell myself that she decided to run away and start a new life elsewhere.

Liam, however...” I shrugged. “He’s more practical and has been urging me to have her officially declared dead. I won’t stop hoping until she’s found.”

“I’m not going to say I’m sorry because it’s so inadequate. I can’t imagine what you and Liam have been going through all these years. It’s unfathomable to me.”

“Thank you. And that’s why I needed to leave for a bit. I found a wonderful job as the lead nurse at a retirement community in the mountains of North Carolina—far enough from here, but close enough that I could see Liam during his college breaks.”

“And then you came back.”

“I did. As you grow older, you’ll begin examining the parts of your earlier life that you once believed were detrimental to your well-being. That’s when you find that the wounds that hurt you the most were what you needed to survive.”

Phoebe began chewing on the nub of her fingertip. “I just don’t understand why everything has to be such a struggle. I survived my childhood. I’d like to think that was enough trauma for one lifetime. And you lost your husband and daughter way too soon, and your granddaughter is missing.”

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? We can’t see the bottom of our bags of trouble, so we have no idea if we’re nearing the end of them or still near the top or even somewhere in the middle. I believe the trick is to stop counting and look for something else to occupy your time.”

Phoebe forced her hand into her lap, tucking her finger into her closed fist. “Why didn’t you come right out and tell me about our connection when Ophelia and I saw you at the Gala Bakery?”

I placed my hands flat on the table, studying the knobby knuckles and ropy veins, the scratched gold wedding band that I never took off.

I was proud of these hands. They’d rocked babies and held the hands of the dying.

They had cooked countless meals and comforted the inconsolable.

I didn’t wear nail polish or jewelry to disguise the fact that they’d been around for a while because their age spots and purple scars made them beautiful.

I met her eyes. “Because I knew from that first moment that you were lonely and might be in need of a friend, and I’m one of those annoying people who offers friendship to every lonely soul I encounter.

It drives Liam crazy when I invite strangers to dinner.

When I met you, you appeared to have been ripped from your element, like a baby owl finding herself in an osprey nest.”

Phoebe nodded, digesting everything I’d just said.

I continued. “I didn’t want to bring up that nasty business and have you suspicious about any ulterior motives because, I promise you, I don’t have any.”

She nodded slowly then stood and opened the fridge. “Can I get you something to drink?”

I declined, and she returned to the table with a bottle of water. She took a long swig then swallowed. “I’m guessing you know that the lightning strike gave me more than a bad burn. It also sometimes gave me premonitions in my dreams.”

“Yes. It would have been impossible not to have known about it. It’s a small town. But your brush with celebrity has nothing to do with me befriending you.”

The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” I said. “That must be the food.”

I’d made it to the doorway when she spoke again.

“So you were never intending to ask me about my dreams.”

I stopped and faced her again. “I didn’t say that.”

“Save your breath. They’re unpredictable and not something I can turn on or off. Besides, I don’t have them anymore.”

The doorbell rang again, and I hurried out of the kitchen. Phoebe was lying. It was her secret to keep, but it gave me hope. I entered the foyer at the same time as Elizabeth.

“Are our guests here already?” she asked.

“No, just the caterer,” I responded.

I reached the handle just as the lights flicked off and the air-conditioning stopped humming. I threw the door open allowing the sticky rain-soaked air to sweep inside uninvited.