The Summer's End

“Yes.”

“Did the dolphin survive?”

“She did. Delphine went to the Mote Marine Cetacean Hospital. Nicholas Johannes flew the dolphin to Florida in his plane, otherwise I don’t think the dolphin would have lived.”

“Good man to do that.”

Marietta nodded.

“Well, tell that rascal Nate he’s welcome to come over anytime.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

Girard looked down at his boat bobbing at the lower dock. “I seem to recall you were a pretty good fisherman in your day.”

“Fisherwoman. I still am,” she replied, taking umbrage. “Fishing is like riding a bicycle. Once you learn you never forget.”

He looked at her, smiling. “Is that so?” Girard crossed his arms. “In that case, why don’t you and I go fishing together sometime?”

Mamaw was startled by this invitation that seemed to come out of nowhere. Flustered, she felt her heart beat faster. Fishing, indeed . . . What a thought! She was busy. She had things to do. She couldn’t just jump into a boat and take off on a lark.

As she opened her mouth to decline, she heard the high-pitched cry of an osprey. She could never refuse the call of an osprey, and looking up, she spied the beautiful, black-winged raptor circling the Cove.

Beside her, Girard paused to take in the sight. “The great fish hawk at work,” he said with awe, bringing his hand up to his brow to shield his eyes. “No better fishers in the world.”

“I’ve always loved ospreys. They’re site loyal and mate for life. I think that makes them rather noble, don’t you?”

“I do, indeed.” He pointed to a small island to the right. “I built a platform on that hammock right over there. The same couple have returned to the nest, year after year, for about ten years. They’ve got fledglings now.”

Mamaw turned to study Girard with new eyes. “That was you?”

“It was.”

“I’ve wondered for years who did that. I’ve enjoyed watching that nest, the couple returning every February, checking for hatchlings, enjoying the fledglings. They’re getting ready to leave again.” She turned to cast him an assessing look. “And I have you to thank.”

“’Fraid so.”

She remembered then Girard’s love of nature, which she had appreciated when she was on the board of the land trust and had helped Girard arrange to put his family’s considerable land holdings in South Carolina into a conservation easement. Like other wealthy northern families, his family had owned a large plantation upland that they’d used for hunting parties. South Carolina was richer today for the thousands of acres now in conservation across the state. That deal had been the feather in her cap at the land trust.

Marietta turned to study the handsome profile of the man beside her. She reconsidered his invitation. “I might could go fishing,” she said, slipping into vernacular. “When do you have in mind?”

“Why not right now? No time like the present.”

She scoffed. “Now? How could I? I’d need to get my fishing rod, sunscreen . . .”

“Excuses. I have all that.”

She closed her mouth, flustered. It was true. No one at the house needed her help. She was moping about aimlessly. In truth, she needed nothing but a little gumption. Marietta felt a lightening in her chest, the first since Lucille’s death. Wouldn’t that old marsh hen cackle to see her and Girard Bellows out fishing together again?

Marietta took a deep breath. Then she released it with a laugh that was carried out on a breeze like an echo to the osprey’s call. “Why not, indeed?”

Chapter Six

August was bearing down hard. The entire weekend the beaches were packed with colorful towels and sunburned bodies. Even on Sunday morning it appeared folks were skipping church and praying on the beach. Everyone was trying to beat the heat and cram every last beach day in before the school season began.

By Monday morning, it was hotter than a sauna, even early morning on the beach while Harper attempted her daily run. The sand felt baked beneath her feet and radiated the heat. Harper considered herself lucky that she seldom perspired. Today, however, sweat was dripping down her face. That summer storm the forecasters predicted for the end of the week couldn’t come fast enough, she thought.

Harper swiped her hand in front of her face, shooing away a swarm of pesky gnats. Cursing, she gave up the fight and cut her run short, slowing to a walk on the way home. By the time she reached Sea Breeze she was sweaty and as splattered with bugs as a windshield. She staggered along the tilting slate walkway to the back of the house, past the overgrown gardenia shrubs to the outdoor shower. A huge banana spider sat in its gorgeous web under the eaves. She jolted to a stop. She saw more of them out now in late summer as the humidity rose. She used to be spooked by them, mostly because of their size. But once she learned that the brilliantly colored spiders with tarantula-like legs were in fact not only harmless, but helpful because they ate mosquitoes, she’d reached a truce. She’d give the spiders their space if they didn’t invade hers.

She carefully stepped around the intricate web and under the flow of water. It was bliss even as it sputtered warm from the old, miserly faucet to cascade down her body. She lathered up with the lavender shampoo and soap that Mamaw kept in supply, the sweet, calming scent filling the small space. When finished, she slicked back her hair, wrapped herself in a towel, and walked, refreshed, into the kitchen, dripping a small trail of water. All she wanted now was a cool glass of water.

The kitchen screen door slammed behind her, alerting the tall young man standing in the kitchen. He swung his head around to face her.

Harper stopped short, mouth agape.

Taylor’s gaze took in Harper dressed only in a towel, and a slow grin spread across his face. “Good morning.”

Harper tightened her towel around her, her face coloring. “Good morning. I, uh, didn’t expect to see anyone.” She looked around the room. “Where’s Carson?”

“This isn’t a social call. I’m here to work on your kitchen. You talked to my dad and set us up for beginning of the week, remember?”

“You’re doing the work?”

His genial expression shifted to reflect his worry. “I know what I’m doing. Is that a problem?”

“No,” Harper hurried to reply. “I’m just surprised, is all. I was expecting your dad.”