Carson leaned forward in her chair and gasped. “No!”
“Oh yes . . .” Mamaw nodded sagely. “It’s all very sad. Cal up and left them both seven months ago. Said how he couldn’t live there anymore. Dora was devastated. Still is, I’m afraid.”
This was shocking news to Carson. In her mind, Dora was the ideal Southern housewife with traditional values, involved with her husband’s career, her church, her community. Every Christmas she received a beautifully engraved card with a photo of the family smiling, dressed in their red sweaters on the front porch or seated in front of the pine-strung mantel. Looks could indeed be deceiving.
“Poor Dora. They’d been married for what? Twelve years? That had to be a terrible blow. She never let on that she was having any troubles.”
“She wouldn’t, dear. That’s not her style.”
Carson thought of how her sister never revealed anything unpleasant, even as a girl. If Dora had won a prize, it would be sung from the rafters. If she failed a test, she took it to the grave.
“Did she see it coming?”
“I’m afraid if it wasn’t concerning her son, Dora didn’t see anything. That may have been the cause for their split. She’s dedicated her life to Nate. But a wife shouldn’t forget her man. Cal felt ignored, and I daresay he was.”
“A woman shouldn’t forget herself, either,” Carson added.
Mamaw raised her eyes. “So true.”
Carson sighed with sincere regret for her sister. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.”
“It’s not something one puts on a Christmas card, dear,” Mamaw said. “Nor was it a secret. It pains me that neither of you have kept in touch. A pity.”
“It is,” Carson said softly, acknowledging the truth. It was a sorry statement that they’d become so estranged that her sister, even a half sister, wouldn’t write to let her know she was getting a divorce. Carson had to accept half the blame for that. She’d not reached out to her sister, either, when she lost her job and was floundering. Maybe, she thought, they could help each other now.
“What’s wrong with us, Mamaw?” Carson asked softly. “If someone like Dora can’t hold a marriage together, what hope is there for me? I have had a long string of men and relationships.” She snorted. “If you can call them that. When I’m alone at night, sitting in the dark and nursing a drink, sometimes I wonder if I’m like Daddy, missing a gene for love and doomed to a lifetime of failed relationships.”
“I don’t think so, dear. Granted, your father never set a good example. But you’re my granddaughter, after all. And you’re the most like me. I had a long string of beaus, true. But don’t forget that I was married for fifty years. Edward was the love of my life.” She reached out to gently pat Carson’s hand. “You just haven’t found the right one yet.”
Carson looked up skeptically. “And Dora?”
Mamaw sighed. “Who knows? Perhaps Cal wasn’t the right one after all.”
Carson guffawed. “She settled.”
“She made a mistake,” Mamaw said, correcting her. “It happens.”
“And Harper?”
“Goodness, Harper’s a child yet!”
“She’s twenty-seven.”
“I suppose she is,” Mamaw said with some surprise. “I always think of her as a little girl. Yes, well . . . Aren’t you the one who just told me that you’re waiting to get married? That thirty wasn’t old?”
Carson chuckled. “Hoist by my own petard.” She kicked off her sandals and curled her feet up onto the chair, settling in for a good gossip. “What’s the story with Harper, anyway? I hate to admit I haven’t kept up. Is she still living in New York?”
“Harper doesn’t communicate with me much, either. I’m sure her mother doesn’t encourage the connection. All I’m privy to is that she still lives in New York. With her mother,” she added, clearly not approving. “And she works for her mother’s publishing company. Her mother has her talons in deep with that fledgling, I can tell you. Harper’s a very bright girl, you know. Went to all the best schools.”
“Of course,” Carson muttered, feeling an old envy rear its head. She felt burned each time Mamaw let drop what good schools Harper had attended. Carson would have given anything to have gone to a boarding school like Andover, then to a college like Vassar. Only she would have gone to California Institute of the Arts or the Savannah College of Art and Design. She’d filled out the applications but there was never any money for her. After graduating from high school, Carson worked during the day and took night classes in photography at a local community college. Any success she’d achieved came from her own talent and hard work. All she ever got from her parents were her good looks.
“Must be nice to have everything handed to you on a silver platter,” she said, hearing the bitterness in her own voice.
“There are curses with that, too. And, Carson, you went to college.”
Carson felt the burn and said with heat, “No, I didn’t. Not really. I took classes at a local college. I never graduated.” Carson shrugged and shook her head with pique. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said, burrowing into the cushions and taking a fortifying swallow of wine.
An awkward silence fell between them as Mamaw rocked and Carson finished her glass.
“I’m sorry,” Carson said, a soft voice in the darkness. “I’m just feeling sorry for myself. I shouldn’t be so nasty.”
“You’re not,” Mamaw replied indulgently. “And I want you to feel you can say anything here, to me.”
“This place has always been my home. My refuge. I need your support now, Mamaw. I’m feeling lost,” Carson confessed, her voice wavering. “And afraid.”
Mamaw immediately leaned over to put her long, slender arms around her. She smoothed the hair from Carson’s forehead and kissed it.
Carson relaxed, feeling safe again after so many months of uncertainty. She didn’t know what she’d expected Mamaw to do when she’d returned to Sea Breeze. Perhaps toss a few dollars her way, offer a consoling pat as more wine was poured. A little indulgence, certainly. Wasn’t that what had always been offered to her father whenever he was down on his luck? Carson needed a little indulgence now.