Page 62 of That Last Carolina Summer

“A bird sitting on a tree is never afraid of the branch breaking, because her trust is not on the branch but on her own wings.”

—Anonymous

“I had an aunt whose wisdom surpassed her inability to hear or speak. She shared this quote with me a long time ago, and I have referred to it again and again over the years when I needed guidance. My aunt also imparted to me her love of birds and taught me how avian behavior can guide us on our own journeys, especially during those times when we feel lost and need help to point us onto the correct path.”

Excerpt from the blog The Thing with Feathers

Phoebe

IT ALWAYS SEEMED that the most beautiful days in the Lowcountry were those following the worst storms. As soon as Ophelia and I returned from the hospital, we went out to the backyard to survey the damage, only to find the blackened tree and shards of wood made eerily picturesque by a spectacular sunset of deep purple and magenta.

“The poor tree,” Ophelia said.

I leaned down to pick up a large chunk of bark. “Yes. The poor tree. We’ll plant another, I think. Maybe two. It did a beautiful job of giving us shade, didn’t it?”

Ophelia nodded. “Mimi said it was her favorite.”

“Well, then. We definitely need to plant two more.”

She smiled up at me. “Can we have pizza for dinner?” she asked hopefully. “And have Will come over?”

I felt a sharp stab somewhere near my heart. “I’m sure Will’s father has other plans, but I’ll be happy to get pizza. I just need to shower and wash my hair first, and I think you should do the same.”

“I don’t—”

I gave her a look that would have made my mother proud.

“Okay. But I don’t have to dry it, right? I can just put it in a ponytail.”

“As long as it’s clean, you can do whatever you like.”

“I’ll be fast,” she said, sprinting up the steps to the back porch.

Before following her up to the house, I made my way down to the dock, stepping around the muddy footprints of the first responders and the sooty boards that were closest to the tree.

I felt compelled to walk to the end of the dock, as if to reassure myself that we had all managed to survive.

The boat was gone, no doubt floating out to sea.

Which was for the best as I had no intention of ever getting in one again.

Or at least for a while. My life to this point had been full of never s.

But I was beginning to learn that life wasn’t a zero-sum game.

Things changed. People changed. I had changed.

If I’d been asked only two days before if I would remain in South Carolina to take care of my mother, sister, and niece I would have said Never .

I sat down cross-legged, touching the bluebird pendant that had managed to remain around my neck, and listened to the melodic warble of an invisible marsh wren.

These birds were more often heard than seen, nature’s camouflage helping their feathers blend in to the swaths of needlerush.

It made me think of Julie, shy and quiet according to her grandmother, but whose timidness disappeared when she sang.

It was a poignant way to remember someone, her existence made even more memorable because of it.

I would never hear a marsh wren again without thinking of Julie and her voice, but not the circumstances that had silenced it forever. Or my sister’s part in it.

There was no doubt that Addie was in a lot of trouble.

An innocent girl had died, and Addie had hidden the truth for almost two decades.

Her second mistake had been to confide in our father.

That one miscalculation had compounded the first, and it had haunted my sister through her young adult years, compelling her to punish herself again and again, thinking it was too late to admit to the crime.

The time of reckoning had come, and I knew that despite what it might mean, Addie’s relief was a palpable thing.

Footfalls sounded on the dock behind me, too heavy to be Ophelia’s. I was surprised when Liam sat down next to me.

I didn’t look at him when I spoke. “I didn’t expect to see you. Celeste said that she told you what Addie did and what happened to Julie.”

“She did.”

“If this is about my mother and you remaining as her doctor—”

“Phoebe.”

I stopped talking.

“Did you really think that I wouldn’t want to see you again?”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you. My family has done awful things to yours.”

He gently touched my chin and turned my face toward him. “They have. And there’s a lot I’ve got to work through. But that doesn’t mean I never want to see you again. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Just because I was oblivious doesn’t exonerate me. You have every reason to hate me.”

He stroked my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I could never hate you, Phoebe. I wish I could. Because then saying goodbye would be a whole lot easier.”

I looked away, unsure of what I’d see in his face. “About that. I heard there were schools here with teachers, so...”

“Yeah?”

I turned to look into his eyes that matched the color of the marsh, and I wondered if I’d loved him since the first time I’d seen them all those years ago.

“I’ve decided to stay here. Addie needs me.

And so does Mother and Ophelia. It scares the crap out of me, but your grandmother is under the impression that I’m strong and can figure it out. ”

“For the record, my grandmother is never wrong.”

“Yes, well, we’ll see. But I’m not just doing it for them, either.

I want to come back. I’ve missed all of this.

” I waved my arm to encompass the marsh and the ocean and all the teeming life in this watery world I’d been lucky enough to be born into.

It was stamped on my heart in indelible ink, and I’d been foolish to believe I could belong anywhere else.

It was like a member of my family: unpredictable, complicated, and indescribably beautiful.

“So, you’re not going to try to be a weather girl?”

I laughed. “I wish I hadn’t told you that.

But no. I really love being a teacher. I never realized how much because I spent so much time wishing everything had been different.

” My gaze drifted to the shark’s tooth hanging from his neck.

I reached up and touched it. “Are you going to keep wearing this?”

He put his hand over mine. “I think so. At least for now.”

“Good. It suits you. It’ll always remind me of the first time we met.”

“Not that I could ever forget.” He leaned forward to kiss me, his lips warm and sweet.

The wren resumed her song to mark the closing of the day, reminding me that everything is a cycle.

The ebb and flow of the tides, the seamless turn of the seasons, the migration of birds.

The relationship between a parent and a child and the inevitability of growing older.

The intractable connection to our siblings.

I had wasted too many years telescoping myself into my future, envisioning a better place and a less complicated life than what I’d been given.

When all I’d ever needed to feed my soul was right here in this place where the water and earth bleed into each other, waiting for the moon to call us home again.

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