The Summer's End

Taylor reached out to place his hand over hers on the table.

“You must think me terribly spoiled. Having lived in so many houses and still searching for a home.”

“Not at all. It’s not the house that makes a home. It’s the people.”

“Yes.” She gained heart that he understood. “Exactly. I had this big, gaping hole in my chest. And though I love the lowcountry, it was Mamaw and my sisters that filled me with a sense of belonging.” Harper smiled. “And to be fair, my Granny James always made me feel loved at home at Greenfields Park. My grandmothers have been the guiding lights in my life. I’m lucky to have them.” She smiled shyly. “And now you.”

Taylor moved to slip one arm around her waist. With his other he reached out to take her glass and downed the remainder of her wine and set it on the table.

Harper stared into his eyes and saw in his unwavering gaze that the rush of feelings she was experiencing—the undeniable attraction, the unexplained, spontaneous connection—he felt, too.

Suddenly he released her and rose from the table to walk across the deck into the pilothouse.

Harper sat motionless in her chair and stared after him. The evening breeze cooled her fevered skin. She blinked in confusion. What had just happened to cause him to leave her? she wondered in a daze. What had she said? Was she too personal? Too forward or too fast?

A moment later Taylor emerged from the pilothouse carrying a large blanket in his arms. He stopped in an open space on the deck and shook open the blanket. It ruffled in the air like a flag before he lowered and spread it out on the deck. Then he walked directly to her side and faced her. His expression was tender, filled with love. He held out his hand.

Harper put her small hand in his, and immediately his long fingers tightened around them. One firm pull and she was in his arms, her breasts crushed against his chest. She caught the scents of the sea and Taylor’s skin, a sweetness that had deep, strong notes. They drew closer to one another, desire welling. She leaned into him, and tilting her head, she felt his mouth on hers. She felt the moisture of his tongue and his desire strengthen. His hands raked her body, moving up her back and then to her breasts. She moaned deep in her throat and pressed harder against him, her leg riding up his.

His hand slid up to cup her head and she felt their breaths mingle as he moved away from her. He kissed her forehead, her eyes, both cheeks softly, as the sky dissolved into night. This time when he released his hold on her, he took her hand and brought it to his lips. His eyes gleamed with invitation over her knuckles. Looking in his eyes, she knew what he was asking.

There was no decision to make tonight. Harper had made this decision weeks ago when she’d opened the front door of Sea Breeze and first saw his face. She would not second-guess herself, question her decision, or ponder consequences. Tonight she would abandon her rational self and give herself up to the moment. To Taylor. She had never before experienced this type of connection with someone. She would not let it go without experiencing it fully.

Harper’s gaze kindled, and taking his hand, she kissed each of his fingers.

Taylor led her to the center of the deck, and together they slid to the blanket. The stars above shone their silvery light as they undressed, giving their bare skins an unearthly glow. He kissed every inch of her, and closing her eyes, she heard the lapping of the sea against the boat.

When at last he entered her, her hips swayed beneath him on the gently rolling deck. She clung tight to his back and buried her face against his moist neck. Harper lifted her head and cried out to the vast sea and sky.

Later, when they lay entwined in each other’s arms, Harper looked over the dark sea and saw a fiery harvest moon rising, bathing them in her golden light.

Chapter Thirteen

Early the next morning, Carson woke with a dull, throbbing ache blooming in her abdomen. Waking further, she turned from her side flat onto her back. She’d been in an odd position, she told herself. Backaches were common in pregnancy. Her fingers gently stroked her belly, willing the cramps to go away.

The ache persisted, not allowing sleep to return. Reluctantly Carson pushed back the coverlet and walked through the silent hall to the kitchen. She’d read somewhere that warm milk helped one to sleep, and it had to be good for the baby. Carson poured milk into a mug and slid it into the microwave, careful to step out of the way before turning it on. One of the articles she’d read advised against standing in front of a microwave. She’d been reading so many books and articles and online posts about pregnancy lately. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right.

As she leaned against the counter, watching the numbers on the microwave’s timer click down, the dull ache suddenly sharpened to a pain that doubled her over. A short cry escaped her lips.

This isn’t good, she thought in a panic. This can’t be normal. With another sharp pain she felt a trickle of blood between her legs.

“No, no, no,” she cried as she hurried, crouched like a turtle, to the bathroom, feeling her hopes drain away with the blood running down her legs.

Mamaw was no stranger to hospitals. She sat by the window quietly doing needlepoint to keep her mind and hands busy while waiting. Across from her, Harper sat in an uncomfortable metal chair. Dora had needed to stay with Nate, so Harper and Mamaw had driven a weeping, frantic Carson to the hospital. The hospital emergency room was crowded with over a dozen people all wearing the same anxious expressions as they waited for word from a doctor about a loved one.

Thankfully, Mamaw and Harper didn’t have to wait long. A petite doctor dressed in scrubs with her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail came out from the double doors.

“Mrs. Muir?”

“I’m here!” Mamaw rose to greet the physician.

Harper drew near to hear the report.

“I’m Dr. Carr. Unfortunately, Carson had a miscarriage. But all things considered, she’s doing well.”

“Can we see her?” Mamaw asked.

“Not yet. She’s undergoing a D and C. With rest, she should recover completely. Again, I’m sorry about the baby.”

After the doctor left, Mamaw went to the window to stare out at the cityscape of Charleston. She’d spent all of her eighty years here. So many good days. So many bad. She thought back to the several miscarriages that she’d endured. The frightening gush of blood, the overwhelming sense of loss, the feeling of failure and futility. Poor Carson, she thought, her heart aching. It had been so difficult for her granddaughter to commit. A few weeks ago Carson might have viewed the miscarriage as a relief. But now, the loss of her baby would be devastating.