“I can’t imagine you being silenced by a bunch of gossips.”
“Hardly. We were doing nothing wrong.”
“A bit, perhaps. Evelyn was jealous.”
“Of what?” she asked, shocked.
“Of our shared interests and projects.”
“I never meant not to include her.”
“Precisely. Conservation never interested her.” He looked out over the water.
Marietta cast him a furtive glance. “You know, Edward was always jealous of you, as well. A little.”
Girard swung his head around again. “Was he?” His eyes sparkled.
“Oh, yes. Especially the time you took me sailing.”
Girard laughed then, a soft chuckle. “He’s lucky I didn’t sail off with you.”
“Really . . . ,” she said with feigned scorn, and looked away feeling a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “Just as well I didn’t know you had such fanicful thoughts,” she said, enjoying the flirtatious banter. “After that land-trust deal you were my hero.”
“So you’re saying I missed my chance to steal you away?”
She turned and raised her brow. “You just might have succeeded . . . that one time.”
They both laughed.
“I think,” Girard said with finality, pulling in his fishing rod. “The fish aren’t biting today.”
“Doesn’t appear so.” She was grateful for the distraction of pulling in her own rod. “We gave it the old college try.”
“I owe you another shot. What do you say, Marietta? Are you up to try again?”
“I owe it to myself to catch at least one.”
“Good!” His white teeth shone against his tan. “We’ll try again tomorrow. For today, let’s shove off.”
The boat’s motor ignited and churned the water with a great growl. Mamaw clutched her hat with one hand and the side of the johnboat with the other as Girard sped up. The small boat bounced as it cut through the water, spraying water in her face. She laughed out loud at the giddy experience. She looked up at the sun shining above, feeling its light warm her, reminding her of the spring of her youth, bringing her back to life.
The midafternoon sky was cloudy, hinting at rain. Harper leaned against the back of the dock bench with her legs up and her computer in her lap. She was glad for the clouds that kept the pounding sun at bay and promised much-needed rain for her garden. She’d been out here for hours, her fingers flying on the keyboard as her story flowed. She was so caught up in her story that she startled when she heard a voice.
“Want some lemonade?”
She swung her head up to see Taylor standing beside her carrying two glasses of lemonade. Flustered, she hurriedly closed her computer and moved her legs to sit up.
“Thanks.” She took the cool glass dripping with condensation. She took a sip and found it perfectly tart. “It’s delicious.”
“My mother made it. She makes me a thermos every day.” He laughed lightly. “She hovers.”
“Sit down.” She indicated the empty bench with her hand.
“Are you sure I’m not bothering you.”
“Not at all. I could use the break.”
He seemed pleased by the invitation and sat beside her, letting his arm stretch out over the back of the bench. Taking a long drink from his glass, he looked out over the Cove.
Harper turned her head as well. She’d been sitting here all afternoon and had stared only at her laptop. The sky was startling in its contrasts. Shafts of pearly light shot out from steely-gray storm clouds in sharp angles, looking like an art deco painting. The light cast translucent shadows on the murky water.
“It’s beautiful here,” Taylor said.
“I look out at this same view every day, and every time I see it differently. It’s always changing. Never boring.”
“How long are you here for?”
“Till the end of summer.”
“Not long.”
“No.” She let her finger trace the condensation on the glass. “Longer than I’ve ever spent before, though. When I was a child I only spent a few months. Had to be home in August for school.”
“This is a pretty great place to spend the summer.”
She smiled hearing the truth of it. “It was a magical time for me and my sisters. A real Huck Finn existence. Carson and I used to run wild over the island.” She leaned forward as though telling a secret. “My grandmother tells us that we are descended from a pirate.” She made a shocked face. “Imagine.”
“Is it true?”
“I honestly don’t know. But I like to think so. The Muirs have a long line of sea captains.”
Taylor lifted his brow. “Really?”
She laughed, not surprised that he’d found that tidbit interesting, given that his father was a captain. “Yep. Anyway, there’s this story, a legend really, that the Gentleman Pirate—that’s our ancestor—buried his gold somewhere on Sullivan’s Island. So naturally, Carson and I dressed up as pirates and searched for the buried treasure.”
“Ever find it?”
She chortled and shook her head. “Nope. But we had the best time looking. Mamaw didn’t allow television during the day and scooted us out of the house to play. Carson and I . . .” Harper smiled. “What a pair we made. We both loved adventure. I was . . . am . . . a big reader. I loved to come up with plots for our make-believe, mostly from books I’d read.” She looked out over the water as memories played in her mind. “Our imaginations knew no bounds. Day after day we went out, absorbed in our made-up worlds.” When she turned back, she found him studying her face. She blushed and looked at her hands. “You must think that’s silly.”
Taylor shook his head. “Actually, I think that’s pretty great.”
She flushed with pleasure and turned her head. The shimmering water was racing with the current. “This summer is the first time I’ve been here in years. Since I was ten or eleven. The first time all of us have been together since Dora’s wedding. It’s both strange and really nice to be living under the same roof with Mamaw and my sisters again.”
“I get that. I’m staying with my parents. For a few weeks, anyway. It’s nice to visit, but I wouldn’t want to stay longer than that. I don’t think any of us could stand it.”