Page 47 of That Last Carolina Summer

“A wise man once said that we should use what talents we have because that is the road to our success and the way we will give joy to the world. Because the world would be a silent place if only the birds with the best voices sang. I think of this every time I hear a nuthatch grating out its nasally notes as it shimmies upside down on a tree trunk. It doesn’t care that it’s not the best singer in my backyard.

It just sings for the joy of it. Which is a good-enough lesson for the rest of us to do what we love. ”

Excerpt from the blog The Thing with Feathers

Phoebe

MY HEAD THROBBED the following morning when I awoke with the sun streaming into the window and the strobelike chirping of a cardinal.

I’d purchased wine during our pizza run and had excused myself from dinner so I could retire to the privacy of my bedroom and drink an entire bottle before passing out.

I’d never been a big drinker, and I hated being hungover, but it was a small price to pay to avoid the terror that waited for me at the edge of consciousness.

I rolled over and dug my face into the pillow to hide from the sun and promptly fell back asleep. I was awakened an hour later by Ophelia jumping on the side of my bed. I pried my eyes open, running my tongue over teeth that felt as if they’d been covered in cotton.

“Can you take Will and me to the beach? Celeste says it’s okay.”

“Did you ask your mother?”

“Nuh-uh. She’s down on the dock, and she left her phone in the kitchen.”

That made me sit up. “Yeah?” A glimmer of a dream floated timidly to the surface of my awareness.

It had been the mention of Addie. I closed my eyes and saw my sister as she’d been in my dream.

I couldn’t see her face, but I knew it was her because she wore a rhinestone pageant crown on her blond head.

She was sitting in front of an open box ripping through layers and layers of tissue paper, flooding the room until the box disappeared along with the paper.

Then the front door opened, and although the man was tall and slender, I knew it was Dale.

He wore the same shirt and pants he’d had on the last time I’d seen him, except they were covered with large splats of paint the color of ochre.

“So can we?”

The image floated away as I looked at Ophelia, whose hands were folded in a praying position as she batted her eyelashes.

I held up a finger. “Hang on.” I took two Tylenol tablets from the bottle on my nightstand and swallowed them dry.

I breathed in deeply, willing the medicine to stop the hammering in my head.

“I’ll go talk to your mom. But first I need you to brush your hair and then check if we have any bottles of sunscreen in the bathroom. ”

“Thank you!” she shouted then jumped down with a thump as her feet hit the hardwood floor.

I pulled on my shorts under my sleep shirt and headed downstairs.

I heard Celeste and my mother talking in the dining room.

I wanted to stop and say hello, but even in my mother’s current mental state, I knew she’d probably notice what I was wearing—and what I wasn’t, since I hadn’t put on a bra—and I wasn’t in the mood to be scolded.

I crept past the doorway, avoiding creaking floorboards, and headed to the back door, grabbing Addie’s cell phone from the counter on my way.

She sat in one of two folding lawn chairs at the end of the dock, wearing a red string bikini top with polka dots and the cutoff shorts she wore to work.

Large dark sunglasses hid her eyes, and her sleeked-back strawberry-blond hair had been tucked beneath the wide rim of a straw hat.

Her easel lay facedown, pinning the paper pad onto the wood planks.

She didn’t turn to look at me as I took the seat next to her.

Morning on the marsh was a sacred time, the sky cleansed of the night’s darkness, the air redolent with the heady scent of pluff mud and cordgrass warming in the sun.

The sound of shorebirds mixed with snapping shrimp and the intermittent splashes of unseen fish as they hunted for breakfast while they, too, were hunted.

As a child, I’d cried whenever I’d seen a heron with a fish in its mouth, until Aunt Sassy had explained that death in the marsh was as much a part of it as life.

That one was dependent on the other in the endless cycle of birth, death, and regeneration.

Her ashes had been spread deep in the marsh, and even now I could feel her presence in the nurturing suck of the tides and the solemn glide of an osprey.

Only then did I realize that Addie was holding the painting she’d been working on. Ochre-colored streams of water ran down the paper like tear stains, the softened paper rippled throughout and missing an entire corner.

“Oh no, Addie—your picture! Is it ruined?”

“What do you think?” She thrust it at me, and I held up the wrinkled mess.

“I’m so sorry. What happened? Did you forget you’d left it out here?”

She pulled a cigarette and lighter from her bikini top and lit it before inhaling slowly.

Shrugging, she said, “I guess I forgot it was out here. I was planning on taking a few art classes at a place downtown that Celeste told me about. She recommended that I reach out to a teacher who only accepts a limited number of students, so he’s pretty selective.

Just don’t tell her that I was listening when she told me.

I was going to use that piece as my audition.

” She gave a little laugh before taking another drag on her cigarette.

“I guess that won’t be happening now. At least with that painting.

And I doubt I’ll have time now to make another one. ”

She pulled up her long legs onto the chair and rested her chin on her knees.

Addie was so effortlessly elegant. If I’d tried to do that I would have fallen out of my chair and then rolled into the water, and we would have both laughed.

It had been such a long time since we’d laughed together that I was tempted to try.

“Maybe you did it on purpose.”

“Don’t be an idiot. Why would I do that?”

A cumulous cloud passed over the sun, momentarily darkening the endless stretch of marsh grass that seemed to touch the bottom of the sky on the horizon. “I don’t know, Addie. I was hoping you could tell me.”

Ignoring me, she took another drag from her cigarette and blew it out in slow rings.

“Assuming you’re here to bug me, I already rescheduled Mother’s neurology appointment, so save your breath.

I missed the original one because Mother was in such a good mood yesterday, and Ophelia wanted to get her nails done, so I made a day out of it, and we all had a good time. So sue me.”

“Thank you. I would take her except—”

“Except you’re leaving and I need to figure this out.” She took a long drag on the cigarette then leaned back against her chair and closed her eyes to let me know she was done with the conversation.

“Fine, then.” I stood, remembering why I’d come down to the dock. “Can I take Ophelia to the beach with Will? I’ll have the car back before you need it.”

“Sure.” She lowered the sunglasses on her nose to look over them. “Do you have a bathing suit?”

“I didn’t bring one. I thought I’d just wear shorts and a T-shirt.”

“You can borrow one of mine. Bottom left drawer of my dresser.”

“Thanks,” I said, even though I doubted one would fit me. But I would try, just to show my sister that I was grateful.

When Ophelia, Will, and I returned from Isle of Palms later that afternoon hot, sweaty, and a little sunburned, I was dismayed to find Liam’s truck in the driveway.

I’d been too hot to throw on my T-shirt over the bikini top I’d borrowed from Addie, and I scrambled to find it now in one of the many bags in the trunk.

“Can I help you with anything?” Liam’s familiar voice came from the porch.

I kept my head in the trunk. “No, thanks. I think we got it.” I handed Will and Ophelia each a bag to bring inside.

“Let me help,” he said, his voice closer. “Otherwise, I’ll hear about it later from my grandmother.”

Resigned, I stepped back. “Fine, if you insist. If you could please bring the large cooler into the kitchen, I’d appreciate it.”

He took the cooler while I grabbed the last beach tote and closed the trunk before leading the way back to the kitchen. He set the cooler down by the fridge. “Would you like me to empty it?”

I felt exposed standing in the kitchen wearing nothing more than a bikini top and gym shorts. “No, but thank you. I thought Will was spending the night tonight.”

“He is. Gran called and asked me to bring his stuff over. His duffel bag is in the hallway.”

“Thank you,” I said. I crossed my arms, wondering why he wasn’t leaving.

“It looks good,” he said.

I reached up to touch the bathing suit’s halter strap. “It’s my sister’s.”

He smiled. “I wasn’t talking about the bathing suit. I was talking about your scar. It looks like lightning in the sky.”

I blushed, embarrassed at having misunderstood. “Mother thought that the scar would fade over time, but it hasn’t.”

He stepped closer, his eyes moving from my face to my shoulder.

Gently, he touched my arm, turning me around.

“I think scars are good for us. They remind us of what we can survive.” I sucked in my breath as his finger traced the smooth purple lines that circled my shoulder and scattered down my back like cracked ice.

“Does it hurt?”

I shook my head. “Not really. Sometimes when it gets really cold, I feel it. Mostly I don’t even think about it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. A scar is a small price to pay for my life.” He leaned closer, his warm breath blowing against my bare back. “And I’m sure after my father sued your family, you wished you hadn’t been there.”

“Never,” he said. “Because then we wouldn’t have met.”

I turned in his arms, my nose brushing his chin, my gaze on the shark’s tooth necklace.

I wanted to reach up and press my lips against his, to forget all the reasons that I couldn’t.

The terror was skirting too close to my waking hours.

It was only a matter of time before I could see all the details in the dream.

The faces of the car’s occupants. And each time the dream came, it brought the conviction that one of them was me.

The one thing I knew for sure was that as soon as I fled to the West Coast, the tableau would be frozen in warped dream space, and I would be safe.

I stepped back, my skin cold in his absence. “I need to shower. Thanks for bringing in the cooler.”

I ignored the hurt in his eyes as I began walking toward the stairs before being redirected by the ringing doorbell. I opened the door to find a large beautifully wrapped box sitting on the porch. A plain white delivery truck was already driving away.

I bent down to pick up the box, not seeing a note to indicate who the box was for, although I was sure I already knew.

Celeste and Mother emerged from the dining room just as Addie ran down the stairs reeking of cigarette smoke. She must have been smoking in her bedroom with her head hanging out the window like she’d done when she was a teenager.

I held the package out to her. “It’s from Dale.”

A soft blush brushed her cheeks before she frowned. “I wonder what it could be. I’ll take it up to my room to open it.”

“Take a pair of scissors,” I called after her.

“I’ve got some,” she said, hugging the box to her chest and climbing the stairs.

“How did you know it was from Dale?” Liam asked.

“I smell cigarettes,” Mother announced. “Who’s smoking?”

“Not me, Mother. I’m headed to Target. Would you like to come with me?” I was sweaty and needed a shower, but not as much as I needed to remove myself from Liam’s scrutiny.

Mother wrinkled her nose to show her displeasure. “I don’t shop at Target.”

I refrained from pointing out that the lipstick she wore had been purchased during our last trip to Target. “Why don’t you think about it while I go take a quick shower, okay? I’ll be right back.”

I paused at Addie’s open door as a feeling of déjà vu swept over me. Torn wrapping paper littered the floor as Addie lifted a small item from inside the larger box.

“Art supplies?” I asked, wanting her to tell me no .

“Yeah. A whole new set of brushes since my old ones were brittle from being stored in the attic for so long. I mentioned to Dale that I needed new ones if I was going to take that art class.” Her face fell. “I wonder if I should even keep these.”

“Of course you should. You have time to paint when you’re not at the restaurant. I can hang out with Ophelia while you work on a new piece.”

She was looking at me with solemn eyes, and I could tell that she wasn’t really listening to what I was saying. “How did you know the package was from Dale? There wasn’t a card.”

“Who else would be sending you art supplies?”

“How did you know that’s what was in the box?”

“A lucky guess.” I cringed at how lame I sounded.

“Okay. Right. I thought you weren’t having your dreams anymore.”

“Does it matter? I’m happy that you’re rediscovering your artistic talent, almost as happy as I am to see that Dale still has a thing for you and that his interest might be reciprocated.”

“Stay in your own lane, Phoebe, all right? I can manage my own life.”

“Can you, though? You left your nine-year-old daughter home alone with her grandmother who has dementia along with a set of car keys. That doesn’t seem like managing to me. It sounds like a disaster.”

She picked up an empty water glass. “Get out.”

“I’m only trying to help. That’s why you asked me to come home, remember?”

“Get out!” she screamed, waving the glass.

“Grow up,” I said, quickly shutting the door and narrowly missing the glass that clunked against the other side before shattering onto the wood floor.

I stared at the closed door for a long time, unable to move as a wave of emotions pulsed through me that felt like love and hate or a combination of both.