Page 59 of That Last Carolina Summer

“When a crow dies, other crows will raise an alarm call to alert the other members of the murder—the name for a congregation of crows. The group then observes the corpse, eventually breaking into intense cawing, as if in grieving. It’s remarkably human.

I hate to see a dead bird, but there is something especially ominous about seeing a dead crow.

They’re seen as messengers announcing the coming of a new era in one’s life.

I suppose if a crow had to die, I wouldn’t mind seeing it, if only to reassure myself that I was on the right path. ”

Excerpt from the blog The Thing with Feathers

Phoebe

AS I LAY in the back of the ambulance, I kept insisting that I was fine and that I didn’t need the sedatives they were intent on administering.

I was alone except for the EMTs. I’d heard Liam saying he was going in the ambulance with my mother, but my memory kept clouding over, obscuring my vision.

I wanted to ask where Ophelia and Addie were, but I couldn’t get the words to form.

The last thing I remembered for sure was standing beneath the cedar tree and shouting for Addie and Ophelia to get down.

I vaguely remembered Ophelia squatting down with her hands over her ears, but Addie.

.. I winced as something cold and stinging was poured over my knee.

I needed to remember. There was something about Addie I needed to remember. Something important.

And there it was. Addie. Running toward me, her hands colliding with my chest as she shoved me onto the dock just as the tree exploded with fire.

My head hurt from where I must have hit it when I fell, and my knee and foot stung, the pain made worse by whatever the EMT was doing.

I wanted him to stop, but the dark curtain of oblivion had already begun to close.

I opened my mouth to scream, needing to tell them not to let me fall asleep, but it was too late.

I heard the nightjar first, telling me I was back in the dream.

I stood on the bridge watching the car approach.

It was heading right at me, but I didn’t step back.

I was transfixed by the two occupants of the front seat.

My emotions cycled between relief and horror when I realized that I wasn’t one of them. But my sister was.

Addie sat in the driver’s seat, and I could hear her singing. I even recognized the song, “Before He Cheats.” She’d played it nonstop her senior year. Before she’d stopped listening to music at all.

I stared at the passenger, recognizing her even though I’d only seen her photograph.

That’s how I knew that the girl in the passenger seat was Julie Fitch.

They were both singing, neither one paying attention to the sign on the side of the bridge.

I could read it now: Slippery When Wet .

Mardi Gras beads hanging over the rearview mirror shimmied side to side as the car moved forward.

I tried to hold up my hand, to get Addie to stop, to reverse this story before it reached a foregone conclusion.

But I was paralyzed, unable to wave my hands or do anything that might change the outcome.

The logo on the hood stood out as the car made its slow progress toward me.

It wasn’t Addie’s Volkswagen. It was light blue, not the lime green of Addie’s car, and for a brief moment I allowed myself to feel relief that this dream wasn’t about Addie at all.

But it was. She was in the driver’s seat as the car veered, hitting one side of the bridge before swerving across both lanes. The singing stopped as the car hit the opposite side, breaking through damaged wooden slats. Leaving the road and plunging into the dark water below.

The acrid scent of exhaust fumes filled the air.

Skid marks on the empty bridge curved toward the edge, ending abruptly.

I peered over the side of the bridge, seeing only a small funnel of water.

Right there, in the spot the nightjar had been showing me over and over, was something I recognized.

Something that filled me with horror and sadness and grief.

And I finally understood why my mind had blocked the image for so long.

Addie’s head emerged from the water beneath the bridge, then disappeared as she dove under again and again before finally stopping.

She half crawled, half swam to the edge of the water.

Her agonizing moan echoed in the quiet of the marsh, and in my head as she collapsed into the pluff mud.

I watched as she eventually stood, gave one final look at the spot where the car had disappeared, then headed back in the same direction from where they’d come.

I opened my eyes to bright fluorescent hospital lights and the sound of Liam’s voice saying my name. I turned my head and found him sitting in a chair next to my bed, and I smiled. But then the dream came back like an angry ghost reminding me of who Liam was and why I shouldn’t be smiling.

I started to sit up, desperate to find my sister. To have her tell me to my face that my dream wasn’t real. That she’d never been in a car with Julie Fitch.

“Whoa, slow down.” Liam placed his hands on my shoulders and eased me back against my pillow. “What do you need?”

I glanced behind him to the door, unable to look in his eyes. They were too much like his sister’s.

“Where’s...?” I couldn’t settle on just one name. They were all precious to me.

“Ophelia is fine. She’s in the waiting room with my grandmother and Will.” He paused. “Addie suffered a cardiac arrest from the lightning strike. It’s too early to tell if there will be any permanent neurological damage, but the doctors are hopeful. She’s young.”

I thought of my beautiful sister and failed to reconcile the version I knew with the one from my dream. “She saved my life.”

“I know. I watched it happen. And you saved Ophelia. You’re both heroes.”

He was only saying that because he didn’t know the truth. “And my mother?”

“Her leg is broken, right below the knee. It’s a clean break, which is good. She’ll need rehab, but I can help you find the best facility for her.” He took my hand, and his warmth spread through me. “I’ve never been so scared in my life. I thought...” His voice broke, unable to finish.

I wanted to tell him that I’d seen him running toward me and that I knew that with him there I would survive. That he was the reason I wanted to survive. But I couldn’t. I pulled my hand away, knowing I had no right to his comfort. Then I turned my head and closed my eyes.

He stayed there for a long time before leaving, his footsteps slow as he headed out the door.

I waited until I was sure he was gone before I allowed myself to cry.

Eventually, a nurse came in to check my vitals.

She announced that I was good to go but that I needed to wait for the doctor to make his rounds and sign off on my release paperwork.

I stared at the ceiling as I waited, my mind flipping through scenes from the last twenty-four hours like an old silent-film reel. I mentally sorted through each frame, rewinding and forwarding just in case I missed anything. Liam, Celeste, Addie, Ophelia, my mother. Julie.

A low-pitched tu-a-wee from the window made me turn my head.

A bluebird stood on the sill looking at me as if waiting for me to make a decision.

I couldn’t see a bluebird without thinking about Aunt Sassy and the wisdom she had poured into me in the short time we’d had together.

I closed my eyes, listening to the cheerful chirps, and tried to remember what my aunt had told me about the significance of seeing a bluebird.

She had been dying at the time, her hospice nurse telling us that she didn’t have much longer.

Aunt Sassy remained cheerful, doing her best to help me cope.

Even during harsh winters when food is scarce, bluebirds will continue to cheerfully sing because they know better days are ahead.

They remind us to never lose faith, even in our darkest hours, and to hold on to our belief that in the end everything will be all right.

When I opened my eyes, the bird had gone, but its brief appearance had left me with the strength and knowledge I would need to decide what path I’d take when I left the hospital. I allowed my eyes to close again, and when I fell asleep, I didn’t dream at all.

Ophelia sat beside the bed when I awoke an hour later. Someone had tried to tame her hair into a ponytail, and she wore an oversize Clemson sweatshirt that had to have been borrowed. Her eyes were red from crying, but she smiled when she saw me open my eyes. “Aunt Phoebe!” she whispered loudly.

I smiled back. “Hey, Ophelia. Why are you whispering?”

“Because Miss Celeste told me to stay in the waiting room while she went to get us something to eat.” As if anticipating my next questions, she said, “Dr. Fitch left to take Will to a friend’s house but said he’d be back soon.

They were going to stop at our house first so Will could pick up his book. ”

“Yay, you. You might have converted a new reader.”

She nodded, her smile fading.

“Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

“Oh, Ophelia. I’m so sorry. You’ve been through a lot. But I think we’re all going to be okay.”

“No, we won’t. You’re leaving, and Mama and Mimi are both sick, and nobody will be here to take care of me.”

I shook my head. “I couldn’t do that to you or anyone else. And I’ll stick around and help Mimi and your mama get better, all right? I’ll be here to take care of you, too, so you don’t have to worry.”

“I’m glad,” she said. “I’ve been praying that you would stay here longer, but...”

I opened my hand, and she put hers in it, the once-bright fingernail polish now chipped and dull. “Hey. None of this is your fault. Do you understand? None of it.”