Page 5 of That Last Carolina Summer

I wanted to crouch down to look in her face but had to remind myself that she was nine and wouldn’t want to be treated like a little kid.

“Hello, Ophelia. Thanks for coming to welcome me back. Did you drive?” When she was younger, she’d enjoyed the ludicrous alongside me, both of us laughing at the same silly books and television shows.

I was relieved when she smiled and met my eyes.

“No,” she said softly. “Mama did.”

Her light brown hair had been pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, leading me to believe she’d done it herself.

It needed a wash and had lumps throughout as if it hadn’t been brushed.

But I could see the golden highlights of sun-lightened strands, making me imagine how pretty it must look when it was clean.

She wore a matching Lilly Pulitzer sundress and white Tory Burch sandals, but that’s where the resemblance to her mother ended.

Her eyes were brown with a touch of green and flanked by thick black lashes and highlighted by her smooth olive skin.

Freckles dotted her nose and cheekbones, and when she smiled, I saw that a front tooth was chipped on a corner.

That bit of imperfection probably drove my mother insane.

A necklace hung on her neck, too, the gold-colored chain tarnished and the blue enamel paint of the little bird flaking. She saw me looking at it and reached up to clasp it. “It’s the bluebird of happiness,” she said.

“I know. My aunt Sassy gave it to me when I was about your age. But don’t worry, you can keep it. I haven’t thought about it for years.” I felt a small pang at the memory, the loss of the necklace reminding me of the absence of my aunt.

“You left it in your jewelry box in your dresser when you left,” Addie said. “We didn’t change out the furniture or anything else when we moved Ophelia into your old room last year.”

I met Addie’s eyes. “I didn’t know.”

She shrugged. “You made it clear this isn’t your home anymore, and Ophelia’s old room was too small, so it made sense.”

I felt a surge of anger, not at Addie or Ophelia but for all the reasons why I’d had to exile myself from everything I’d known and loved.

“Sure,” I said, relieved to see my small suitcase appearing on the baggage belt.

“Is that all you brought?” Addie asked.

“It’s all I need. I’m only here for a couple of months. I’m assuming we still have a washing machine.”

“Of course we do. We also kept all your clothes in your closet.” She gave me a critical look. “Are you the same size?”

“I have no idea. I don’t shop, and I don’t own a scale.”

She grinned, and she looked so much like the sister I’d once known that I couldn’t help but smile back. “That’s not natural, Phoebe.” Turning to lead the way outside toward the parking lot, she said, “I knew you were from outer space.”

I hoisted my bag, and Ophelia and I ran to keep up, following Addie to the parking garage.

She hit a button on a key fob, and the back trunk lid of a Lincoln sedan raised for me to put my suitcase inside.

“This might have to go in the back seat,” I said, staring at the multiple packages of toilet paper and four plastic grocery bags containing milk, browned lettuce, plastic-covered packages of gray meat, and a gallon of ice cream with its contents spilling down the sides.

The smell of rotting food rolled out toward us and Ophelia and I stepped back.

Addie just stared inside the trunk, her lips pressed together. “I wondered what that smell was.” Then she hit a button and closed the trunk before heading to the driver’s door.

I stayed by the back of the car. “Shouldn’t we throw out the food? There’s probably a garbage can somewhere.”

“I’ve got to get to work. You can throw it out once we get home.”

“Sure,” I said, opening up one of the back doors and tossing in my bag.

The lingering smell of tobacco smoke mixed with the faint stench of rotting food greeted me as we piled into the navy blue Lincoln.

Addie briefly lowered all four windows and blasted the AC.

Despite the car being in covered parking, it was broiling inside, making my scalp sweat as I sat down in the passenger seat.

Mother got a new car every other year—always the same make and model and always navy blue because she considered it an elegant and understated color.

Addie and I had tried to get her to try a lighter color, but our mother was as intractable as a dog with a bone.

As I’d grown older, I realized her refusal to budge had less to do with color and more to do with admitting that she might be wrong.

I pointed to a box of Virginia Slims on the dashboard. “Those yours?”

Addie gave me a side glance then put the car in Reverse without saying anything. I’d known before asking that they were hers. Our mother considered cigarettes tacky and unladylike and said they caused wrinkles around the lips, which is why Addie had hidden her nasty habit since she was a teenager.

“I quit for a while, but...” She glanced in the rearview mirror at Ophelia.

I turned and saw Ophelia reading Pride and Prejudice , the same dog-eared copy that I’d left on my bookshelf when I’d fled to the West Coast.

Addie redirected her attention to the road ahead then reached for the pack.

“I quit for a while, started again when Mother started acting strangely. You have no idea what I’ve been going through.

” She tapped one out then stuck a cigarette between her lips before lighting it.

She inhaled deeply before tilting back her head and exhaling.

“You’ve got a kid in the car, Addie. Have you never heard of secondhand smoke?” I waved my hand in front of my face then stopped when I realized how passive-aggressive that sounded.

In response, she lowered her car window and took another drag then turned on the car stereo to a rap station, raising the volume enough to discourage conversation. I took a quick look into the back seat where Ophelia appeared not to have noticed, her attention still on the book.

Lowering the volume, I attempted to make peace with my sister. “You look good, Addie. Life must be treating you well. Are you dating anyone?”

She blew smoke out of the corner of her mouth in the direction of her window and grinned. “Depends on how you define dating .” She glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Let’s just say I like to keep my options open.”

“Never mind,” I said then leaned forward and raised the radio volume.

We headed out onto I-26 for the short drive, just long enough for me to prepare myself and get my bearings.

As we climbed the Ravenel Bridge, with Charleston’s church spires behind us and the sprawling town of Mount Pleasant in front, I felt something like heartbreak, like I’d lost something valuable and didn’t know where to find it.

“What’s wrong?” Addie shouted over the roar of the wind from her window.

“Nothing. Why?”

“You’re crying.”

“No, I’m not.” I rubbed my eyes with the backs of my hands, feeling the telltale wetness against my skin. “It’s your cigarette smoke. It stings my eyes.”

She stabbed her cigarette into the ashtray then flicked it out the open window before closing it.

We rode the rest of the way in silence, exiting the bridge and heading into the heart of the Old Village of Mount Pleasant.

Even though the windows were up, I imagined I could smell the nearby Atlantic Ocean and the saltwater marshes that surrounded this corner of the world.

My new home in Oregon was less than two hundred miles from the Pacific, but I’d only seen it once in the hope that it would remind me of home.

It hadn’t. The only similarities between the two coastlines were that they each abutted an ocean and were filled with sand.

I’d stood on the beach, feeling the shifting sand beneath my feet and felt a longing like grief. I hadn’t gone back.

The Old Village had been laid out in an irregular grid pattern to allow for the eccentricities of the surrounding water that borrowed and returned parts of the coastline at the whim of the tides.

Scraggly lawns were dotted with sparse tufts of grass, victims to the generous shades of old-growth trees.

As a girl I’d ridden my bicycle up and down each street, grateful for the shady respite from the scorching summer sun.

Every road, dock, and sunset vista was as familiar to me as the childhood scars on my arms and legs.

Addie and I had been born and raised in the same house as had our mother and our maternal grandparents and great-grandparents. Like all great Southern ladies, the Old Village had aged well, her wrinkles subtly adding to her grandeur and almost imperceptible to all except those who knew her best.

The car crunched over the broken shell driveway, the sound like a familiar friend welcoming me home. Even the heat that sucked the air out of my lungs felt more like a hug than a slap as I pushed my door open and stood facing the red-roofed house.

Our house was easily distinguishable in aerial photos of Mount Pleasant due to the distinctive hue of the hip roof and the long dock on Jeannette Creek that resembled a finger pointing toward Sullivan’s Island.

Addie rolled down her window. “Hurry up, Phoebe. Grab your suitcase and close the door. I can’t be late for work.”

Ophelia slowly pushed open her door and slid from the seat, her head still buried in her book.

“What about the groceries? Shouldn’t we take them out?”

Addie shifted the car into Reverse. “Not now. If it’s slow at the restaurant, I can use one of their dumpsters.”

I quickly grabbed the handle of my suitcase and had barely shut the car door before Addie backed out of her parking spot, the tires spinning on the broken shells before speeding away.

I turned to Ophelia. “Does she still work at that restaurant-bar place in Shem Creek?”

The little girl shrugged. “I don’t know. Mimi says it’s tacky, so we don’t go there.”