Page 36 of That Last Carolina Summer

“Is that Bailey?” I pointed to the largest of Phoebe’s pile, with the picture of a beagle resting on top of the stack.

Her eyes glistened as if surprised to find herself in the present.

“Yes.” She held up a picture. “Mother—remember this? It was Halloween when Bailey was a puppy, and you and Aunt Sassy made her a pumpkin costume.” She pulled out another of Bailey wearing stuffed red reindeer antlers with jingle bells.

“I had no idea you had so many pictures of her.”

Elizabeth’s face softened. “Such a sweet dog. She loves her fried chicken. Just don’t tell Phoebe, or she’ll be mad.”

“Mother, I’m Phoebe. I’m right here.”

Elizabeth didn’t like being corrected, but she returned to the album without comment, refocusing on the pages and pretty stickers.

I was about to turn another page when Phoebe laughed.

“Oh, my gosh—I’d totally forgotten about this!

” She held up a photograph of what looked like a lime-green new edition Volkswagen Beetle—or what had once been one.

Its distinctive hood and logo were all that was recognizable in the crushed metal heap on top of a wrecker.

Elizabeth squinted at the picture, but I knew better than to suggest that she put on her glasses.

“It’s Addie’s car—the one Daddy bought her for high school graduation. She named it Kermit, remember? She got it way early, around Christmas, because she wouldn’t stop begging.” She looked hard at her mother, as if she could force her to remember by sheer will, but Elizabeth turned away.

Phoebe lowered the photograph to the table, then dug into the box again before pulling out two more pictures showing the same subject but from different angles.

“I think Daddy must have taken these since he’s the one who went to the accident scene and waited for the wrecker.

Addie had that car for exactly two weeks and then totaled it.

She was lucky to have walked away with only a few cuts and scrapes.

Daddy put the insurance money into Addie’s college fund, saying he wasn’t going to waste any more of his money buying her another car. ”

“Ouch,” I said. “I hate to say this, but he was right.”

“Addie didn’t think so,” Phoebe said. “Even after all this time, I still think she’d disagree with him about it. I was supposed to get the car after Addie, so she let me pick the color. I stayed mad at her for a long time.”

“Understandable.” I imagined that she carried that grudge around like a pebble in her shoe, an irritation that grew into a large and painful sore over time.

Not just because she most likely stewed on it in silence, but because nobody thought to ask her how she felt about it. “Did you get a car when you graduated?”

Phoebe flicked through photos inside the box. “Nope. I went out of state for college, so the tuition was higher, plus they paid for my room and board. Daddy said that was a fair trade-off.”

“Did you think so?”

“Of course not. I thought it was a little mercenary, to be honest. It’s not like he didn’t have the money, and I graduated with honors. You’d think I’d get a pass.”

“What did your mother say about it?”

Phoebe looked at her mother, who remained focused on the torn paper flaps under missing photos. “Nothing, of course. Whatever Daddy said became the law. She just went along with whatever he said.”

I bit my tongue on all the things I wanted to say about her father and instead tried to change the subject. “Well, now you’re an independent woman so you can get your own. Is that what you drive now?”

“I wish. They stopped making that model in 2011, and the newer ones weren’t the same. I drive a Toyota Corolla now in boring gray. Not as exciting, but it gets me where I need to be.”

I helped Elizabeth turn another album page.

The borders surrounding the two-page layout were decorated with musical-note stickers and the stenciled letters Wando Winter Concert .

There were more photographs of Addie wearing a long black dress and a strand of pearls, some while standing on the risers with other members of the choir, and a few in the auditorium chatting with identically attired girls, and boys wearing tuxedos.

Somewhere in my own albums, I had similar photographs showing the same group of singers, yet none of Addie, of course. The photos I had taken were of my granddaughter Julie, who’d sung in the Wando choir since freshman year. And who had sung at this very concert.

My gaze strayed to the front row of the soprano section, third from the left. There she was, my beautiful Julie, her face glowing with the joy that was as much a part of her as light is to the moon. She seemed to be scanning the crowd, no doubt looking for Liam and me.

Phoebe must have heard my intake of breath. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” I turned the album for her to see and pointed at my granddaughter’s face. “This is Julie. She and Addie were in the choir at Wando High School together. So they must have known each other, right?”

She leaned closer to get a better look. “I recognize her from the frames in your house, but I never saw her hanging around with Addie. Addie sang alto, so she’d be on the other side of the group, but I’m sure they at least knew who the other was.”

Trying not to show my disappointment, I slid the album back in front of Elizabeth. “I thought you and Addie attended Ashley Hall.”

“We did, but Addie got kicked out for bringing cocktails to school in her water bottle. Our father was so mad at the school that he wanted to pull me out, too, but I wanted to stay. My best friend, Mary-Simms, and I had started school together, and we wanted to finish together, too. Fortunately for me, Mother agreed. That might have been the only time she ever had a different opinion than my father.” She regarded Elizabeth, who seemed oblivious to the conversation as she studied the photographs on the page.

“And Addie didn’t walk at graduation. She had to take summer classes to make up a few failing grades before she got her diploma. She was too humiliated to show her face at the ceremony.”

“My Phoebe sings like a bird,” Elizabeth said softly.

“That’s Addie, Mother.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Addie sings, but you have the voice of an angel.”

Phoebe shook her head. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that. But Addie was the one who made the All State choir. I didn’t try out because Addie would have been mad if I’d made it, too.”

“Everything came so easily to you. Addie needed something of her own.” Elizabeth’s fingers fluttered like butterflies over the open pages as if summoning the memories before the momentary clarity deserted her again.

“This...” she began, patting one of the photos “...is Addie. She sings.”

I turned to the next page. “Well,” I said. “What happened here?”

Despite removable bindings, this page had been ripped out of the album, the jagged tear like a scar close to the spine.

Phoebe shrugged, keeping her focus on sorting a handful of photos from the box.

“I’d forgotten I did that. These were taken at my middle school science fair, and I looked like one of the science experiments.

They were embarrassing, so I took them out and shredded them.

It was like Mother was always looking for the most unflattering photos of me to put in the albums.”

Ophelia and Will ran into the dining room, Annie on their heels. “We’re bored. Can we go outside now, please?” Ophelia asked. “Mama’s still down there.”

“Sure,” Phoebe said. “I’ll come with you.”

As she stood to leave, I called after her. “Phoebe?”

She turned to face me.

“Would you ask Addie if she knew Julie?”

“I could, but why don’t you?”

“Because I don’t think she likes me very much, and you have a better chance of getting an answer.”

She nodded. “What if she did?”

“When Julie disappeared, I made a promise to myself to leave no stone unturned. Maybe Addie heard something or saw something. She might have some piece of information that she doesn’t even know is important. It’s a stab in the dark, I know, but it can’t hurt, right?”

“Right,” she said, unconvinced.

She paused behind her mother’s chair, watching as Elizabeth tapped her nail against each photograph like a magician with a card trick. Phoebe turned to go but instead leaned down to kiss her mother’s cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

Elizabeth jerked her head away, rubbing at the spot with the back of her hand before returning to the scrapbook.

Phoebe stepped back as if she’d been stung.

“She didn’t mean that, Phoebe. You know that.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. I think you do.”

She stared back at me, as if preparing to argue. But then she turned and left, the sound of her slow footsteps marking her way through the silent house to the back door.