Page 35 of That Last Carolina Summer

“When a killdeer mother spots a predator close to her nest,she will pretend she has a broken wing, calling loudly and limping along as she stretches out one wing and fans her tail to redirect attention. But the cuckoo bird will lay her egg in another bird’s nest and eject one of the legitimate eggs from the nest. When the cuckoo returns later to see if her trick worked but discovers her chick has been discovered and ejected, she will peck to death the other baby birds.

Too little, too late, I think, for a mother to demonstrate her love for her offspring. ”

Excerpt from the blog The Thing with Feathers

Celeste

I UNWRAPPED ANOTHER pink foam roller from Elizabeth’s fine blond hair before tossing it in the sink.

I used the comb to tease the hair and add volume at the top before uncapping the large can of Aqua Net and spraying it into the roots.

I smiled at her in the mirror. “Is that enough? Or would you like more?”

She smiled back. “More, please.”

I did as asked, referring to the photo of her as Miss South Carolina that Phoebe had taped to the vanity mirror to help me get it right.

Sometimes, Elizabeth would point to it to let me know that was her back in the day when she was comfortable showing her legs.

The day before, she’d asked me who the beautiful girl was.

Addie had been in the bathroom with us and had started to cry.

Even after almost five full days of working as her paid companion and housekeeper, Elizabeth asked me my name each morning when I showed up with Will and Annie in tow.

If circumstances had been different, I might have relished the opportunity to erase any missteps from the previous day such as offering her oatmeal instead of grits with her breakfast or helping her dress, both mistakes I wouldn’t make twice.

Elizabeth was very particular about her appearance, a relief to both Phoebe and Addie since it assured them that their mother was still somewhere inside.

“There,” I said, patting her hair and removing the towel from around her shoulders. “You ready to go downstairs?”

My first order of business had been getting everybody on a schedule.

It seemed that it not only created more lucid moments for Elizabeth, but also seemed appreciated by Phoebe and Ophelia.

Addie, not so much. I wondered if it was the routine she balked at, or just the fact that I was the one creating it.

We walked into the hallway where the bedroom doors were open to reveal beds made and the floors relatively clear of clutter and dirty clothes.

I’d helped Phoebe clear off the guest room bed so she’d have her own room, and she, Ophelia, Elizabeth, and I had taken a field trip to Target to purchase closet-organizing options.

Addie’s door was still closed. She’d worked another late shift the night before, so I let her sleep and didn’t knock.

But I would be up at eleven to drag her out of bed to join in whatever activity I had planned for Ophelia and Will.

The way Ophelia looked up to her mother broke my heart.

Not just because she was so overlooked by Addie but because one day in the not-so-distant future she would stop looking for Addie at all.

Phoebe glanced up from where she sat at the kitchen table, where Ophelia and Will were in the middle of a heated game of gin rummy.

Will was keeping track of who won each game, which determined who had to get up and get their snacks.

Annie sat in her new favorite spot of Ophelia’s lap.

Ophelia threw up her hands. “How does he win every time? I give up!”

“Phoebe,” Elizabeth said, “when did you get here?”

Just as I’d rehearsed with her, Phoebe said, “I’m here for a long visit. Let me get you some coffee.”

Elizabeth sat down at the table while Phoebe poured her mother a cup of coffee. She glanced at the clock on the stove. “It’s almost eleven. Should I get Addie out of bed?”

“Yes, please. I thought that today would be a good day to set up easels in the shade and have fun with watercolors. I had Liam bring over enough for each of us.”

Will groaned loudly, but at least Ophelia seemed more enthusiastic. “Okay, but can I finish reading my chapter first? And you don’t need to wake Mama. She’s already down on the dock.”

Phoebe stood to look outside the screened porch toward the dock. “Unbelievable. She’s been promising to meet with Dale at Daddy’s law office since Monday.”

She threw open the door to the porch, but I called her back. “She hasn’t forgotten. My guess is she’ll get it done a lot faster if you stop asking her.”

Phoebe closed the door. “I’ve asked her to do one thing. One thing! I should just do it myself, but I refuse.”

“Because that would mean she’s not doing her fair share?”

“Of course not. This isn’t a competition.”

“Exactly. So don’t make it one. You are more than capable of doing everything by yourself, and Addie knows it. She probably feels inadequate standing in the breeze you leave behind. Give her a chance to shine.”

“Addie doesn’t need me to help her shine. All she has to do is stand in the middle of the room.”

“And how do you think that makes her feel?”

“I...” Phoebe closed her mouth, struggling to find an answer to a question she’d never heard asked before.

Elizabeth turned her attention away from the children’s card game. “Phoebe! When did you get here?”

Phoebe grimaced. “I’m here for a long visit.” Her face was like the sky darkening with intent. She was a tightrope walker, balancing her emotions between love, duty, and resentment, all liberally coated with a heavy layer of guilt.

I stood behind Elizabeth’s chair. “I’ve placed some of the family photo albums on the dining room table for you to look through. I found a box of loose photographs, too. Maybe I can help you put them in one of the new albums we found at the store.”

Elizabeth stood, wearing an expression I now knew meant that she recognized me but needed prompting with my name.

“I’m Celeste,” I said, “and I’m dying to see pictures of Charles.”

Elizabeth nodded regally. “He was very handsome. He graduated from the Citadel. He looked so nice in his uniform. He says that I fell in love with the uniform before I fell in love with him.”

I led Elizabeth to the dining room, aware that Phoebe was still watching her sister through the kitchen window. “Why don’t you join us, Phoebe, and bring her coffee? You can help write down the names of people and places on the backs of the photographs.”

“Oh, I don’t need her to do that,” Elizabeth said with a scowl. I could sense Phoebe bristling behind me.

“I know. That’s why I bought two archival-safe pens, one for each of you.”

That seemed to satisfy them both as we settled at the dining room table with Elizabeth situated in a seat between us. Phoebe randomly selected an album with a dark green linen cover and placed it in front of her mother.

“I bought this one for you for Mother’s Day, with all the colored pens and stickers, remember?

” Phoebe opened it up to the first page revealing a full-length photo of Addie wearing a flowing pink gown with a sash and crown.

The page had been decorated with colorful stickers and carefully penned words. Miss Lowcountry Teen.

Elizabeth stared at the photo, nodding as if she approved, and then turned the page where more photos of Addie at various events and costumes danced across both pages.

I felt Phoebe holding her breath when Elizabeth reached the fourth page.

Small, torn flaps of paper indicated where photographs had once been attached with an adhesive.

The only remnants of what had been there were the lines of stickered text going across the top border.

Spelling Bee First Place stretched across the top of the page along with a picture of a petite, middle-aged woman wearing a loose blouse, white capris, Birkenstocks, and large glasses that were too big for her face.

The picture had been cut in half, only the leg and foot of a girl remaining.

“I’ve never liked having my picture taken,” Phoebe said. “But I thought Aunt Sassy looked adorable in this picture, so I kept her part of it.”

Elizabeth tapped the photo with her index finger. “That’s Sassy,” she said. “I haven’t seen her today.”

“That’s Charles’s sister?” I prompted.

She nodded. “Yes. She is a saint.”

“Because she took me off your hands?” Phoebe tried for a light tone, but there was an edge to it.

“No. Because she helped me get out of your way. Always so busy...” She made stabbing motions with her hand.

“Digging?” I asked.

“Yes. In the marsh. And climbing trees to look at birds. She was different.” Her mouth worked silently as her brain struggled to recall the right words. “Different doesn’t mean less beautiful. Just different.”

Elizabeth flicked one of the torn flaps on the page with her fingernail, as if she hadn’t just offered an emotional bombshell. The words had come so easily to her because it must have been something she’d often said. She wouldn’t remember it in five minutes, but I was glad Phoebe had heard it.

To feign disinterest, Phoebe slid the box of loose photos closer to her. “At some point, I should have these digitized and put into an album. Our parents were slow to embrace technology. They still used real cameras and film even after they got their first smartphones.”

She grabbed a handful of photos and began going through them, sorting a few into piles on the table while I continued to look through the album with Elizabeth, prompting her to comment on the photos that were almost exclusively of Addie or Charles.

I did my best to be objective when it came to pictures of Charles—to not imagine evil intent in his eyes. In my capacity as caregiver for Elizabeth, I had to force myself to see him as her beloved husband, provider, and protector. The father of her children.