“You’re telling me that you’re helping your mom take care of Flo?”
“For the time being, yes.”
“I don’t understand. I thought you were going back to California.”
“I was. I am. I just don’t know when.”
Linnea looked out across the rolling dunes to the ocean. The water sparkled like the proverbial diamonds under the bright, cloudless sky. She wasn’t sure how she felt about this news. Part of her was grateful to him for helping take care of Florence Prescott. It couldn’t be easy for him to drop everything to be a nursemaid. The other half was worried about him still being next door when Gordon arrived from England.
“So… how long do you think? A week? Two?”
John smiled, amused. Outdoors, he wasn’t wearing a mask. She saw again how a simple smile could transform a rather handsome face into something remarkable. His green eyes brightened against his tan.
“I’m glad to hear you’re so interested in my schedule.”
“Well, I…”
“I’m here indefinitely,” he told her, sparing her embarrassment. “I can work from anywhere, really.”
She cracked a wicked smile. “So I was a nanny, and now you’re a nurse.”
He snorted and looked back to his mother’s house. “I don’t feel right leaving Mom in the lurch like that.” He shrugged. “She’s a trooper. But I’m worried about her. Taking care of Flo is beginning to take its toll. She used to be so funny, so cheerful. Now she seems downtrodden, you know? Like she’s just making it through each day.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I love Flo, don’t get me wrong. She’s been a second mother to me for years. I’m happy to do this for her. Looking at the two of them, I couldn’t just pack up and leave. Not when they both need help. And Flo recognizes so few people these days.”
“Does she recognize you?”
“Oddly, she does. Favors me, in fact.” His smile was quick. “Flo calls for me to help her, rather than Mom. Don’t ask me why. It’s only been a week since I’ve come out of quarantine, but she’s become quite dependent on me.” John shook his head. “She was at my side during the entire construction of the pond. And I mean all the time.” He rolled his eyes. “Giving me directions. Telling me I was doing it all wrong. She was a real pain in the ass. But when it was done, a kind of lucidity came to her eyes—that happens every now and then—and she looked straight in my eyes and said in that curt, sure tone of hers, ‘Good work, John. I’m proud of you.’ ” He paused. “Meant a lot.”
He began walking again and she kept up the pace, pleased to see Luna so interested in all the new smells that she didn’t seem to mind or even realize she was walking on a leash.
“Don’t you miss San Francisco?” she asked.
“There are parts I miss, sure,” he assured her. “But they’re all under lockdown there. All of California has been hit hard with the virus. I’m better off here.”
They walked in silence, pausing from time to time to let the puppy linger at some spot of keen interest.
Cara’s house loomed ahead, bordering an empty lot that had been placed in conservation many years earlier by Russell Bennett, a friend of Lovie’s. Perhaps more than a friend, if rumors she’d heard were true. Linnea would always be grateful to the gentleman from Virginia, whatever his relationship to her grandmother was, for leaving that small bit of beachfront open for sea turtles to nest. And, too, for her to be able to see the ocean, and not someone else’s front porch, from her deck.
Linnea’s daddy had built Cara’s house, and it was without doubt one of the prettiest on Ocean Boulevard. It was more charming than grand, though its size was deceiving to the eye. The large front porch was a signature of her father’s. He felt no home was worth the ground it was built on without plenty of porches.
“You’re awfully quiet,” John said.
“Oh, I’m just thinking about Anna.”
“How’s Annabelle the Southern belle?” John asked.
“Don’t let her hear you say that.”
“I couldn’t resist. She’s a bit… well… vexatious?”
“That’s a fifty-cent word,” she said with a wry smile, then turned her head to check on Luna, who’d stopped again, her little legs trembling as she smelled something exotic. Linnea tugged at Luna’s leash a bit to get her walking again.
“Anna is depressed,” Linnea told him.
“I wondered about that. I can count on one hand the number of smiles I’ve seen.”
“I’m worried about her. She seems so lost. What should I do?”
“Be patient. Offer her support.”
“Living with her is beginning to make me depressed. It’s like there’s this cloud inside the house.”
“That’s not good. Did you talk to her about it?”
“I tried.”
“And?”
“She listened. Still, she’s pretty much staying in her room.”
“Do you want my suggestion?”
She looked at him and raised her brows. “Do I dare ask?”
He shrugged.
“Okay,” Linnea said with a light laugh. “What is your suggestion?”
“It’s simple. If a dark cloud is hovering inside the house, get outdoors. It’ll do you good. Cheer you up. Hope’s little garden patch needs tending. I’ll be putting koi in the pond this week. Come over and help me. And”—he extended his hand toward the ocean—“in case you’ve forgotten, there’s a whole friggin’ beach out there.”
She laughed, and he joined in. It felt good to feel that childlike laugh well up inside her again, one that lifted the spirits.
* * *
LATER, CARA AND David joined them on their trek to the beach. Hope led the way from their back patio along the path to the shore. It turned out to be a perfect day to end the month of April. The sun dazzled in a cloudless sky and the onshore breezes caressed the skin. Isle of Palms was temporarily closed to the public with checkpoints and restricted access to the island due to Covid-19. Starting on April 21, the beach had been declared open for exercise only—running, walking, dog-walking, biking, surfing, and other recreational activities that allowed social distancing. Sunbathing, loitering without moving, and groups of three or more people were prohibited, except for families.
The tide was low, and all along the shoreline, couples walked; some at a brisk pace, others in a relaxed stroll. It seemed to Linnea that people came to escape the confines of walls. To feel the open space, the fresh air, the great expanse of water more now than ever. While David and John talked, Linnea grabbed the private moment to talk with Cara.
“I talked to Gordon last night,” she told Cara.
“That’s nice,” Cara replied. Her white floppy beach hat had a chic orange and white ribbon. Linnea tugged on the bill of her Turtle Team ball cap against the breeze. She was wearing a cutoff T-shirt over yoga pants, which had become somewhat of a uniform these days.
“He’s arriving in a few weeks. Somehow, he made it happen.”