“Where will you go?” Cara asked.
“I’m not sure. Not far. I don’t have many choices with the pandemic. I was thinking it’d be nice to rent a place at Pawleys Island. I’ve always liked it there. I have people I know I can ask. We’ll see.”
“Will John be around? I’d be happy to check on your house. Feed the koi.”
Emmi sighed. “Maybe. Everything’s up in the air with those kids. Don’t ask me about the bruises on his face, much less what John’s going to do. There’s nothing holding him here. I’d hoped he’d work something out with Linnea.” She shrugged. “I guess it was just wishful thinking on my part.”
“Those two… or should I say three?” Cara finished her tea and set the mug on the table. “I don’t want to meddle. I’m just here to help if they ask. They’re good kids. I have faith in them.” She patted Emmi’s hand. “Best we stay out of it. No matter how much we may wish to step in.”
“All the more reason for me to go away for a while.”
“When do you want to go?”
“Soon. After we spread Flo’s ashes.” She reached for Cara’s hand. “God give me strength.”
* * *
IT WAS A balmy night on the beach. The moon was ghostly, barely visible in the rolling clouds. Linnea and Cara sat side by side on towels beside a turtle nest that was due to hatch. They both welcomed the opportunity to escape the confines of the indoors to the fresh, freeing air of the seaside to clear their minds.
“I’d forgotten how much I love to sit on the beach at night,” Cara said in a low voice. “I’m spoiled living here. Sometimes I take all this beauty for granted. It’s out here all the time. It’s a funny game the mind plays on you. Sometimes I walk through the living room and don’t even look out the windows.”
“I know. I do it too. We get so caught up in what we’re doing, we don’t stop to look around and take stock.” Linnea breathed deep. “Oh, that air,” she said in a soft groan of pleasure. “It feels like silk.”
Cara leaned back on her arms. “I think we both really needed this. My heart feels battered and my mind… let’s just say I’m on overload.”
“Me too.”
It was nearly midnight. They’d been sitting at the nest since 9 p.m. and the turtles had yet to emerge. A group of hatchlings sat at the top of the nest, their dark flippers and beaks poking out of the sand, forming a circle that always made Linnea think of a chocolate chip cookie. She and Cara couldn’t leave the nest now. Not on such a dark night when the moon and stars were blanketed by clouds. The hatchlings might be drawn to the streetlights rather than the natural light over the sea. Especially not when the emergence was imminent.
“Cara?”
Linnea felt a chill, even on a sultry night. The velvety darkness cloaked her in a security that gave voice to even her most private thoughts.
Cara turned her head to peer at her through the darkness.
“I guess this isn’t the best time to ask for your advice.…”
“Why? Are you in need of some?”
“Badly.”
Cara straightened and slapped the sand from her palms. “Ask away.”
“If you came here to relax…”
“I came here to take my mind off Flo. This is just what the doctor ordered.”
Linnea brought her knees up and rested her chin on her arms as she stared out into the vast sea. “I’m falling apart.” She heard her voice break and struggled to tamp down her emotions.
“Oh no…”
Linnea took a breath to be able to speak. “I’ve spent the summer trying to pay it forward. Like you said. I’ve tried to be supportive, helpful. Especially now, when the whole world is in crisis. But in the process, I’ve managed to hurt two men I care a great deal about. I’ve failed.” She wiped her eyes. “Utterly. And I’m so sad. All the time. I feel so…” Her voice broke. “Lost.”
“Oh, Linnea,” Cara said, her voice tinged with compassion. “When I told you about the legacy of the beach house, I meant for you to understand that it is your sanctuary too. I admit, I was worried when you kept inviting people to stay with you.”
“I was trying to pay it forward,” she repeated.
“And you did.” Cara chuckled. “You didn’t fail. Don’t you see? You succeeded.”
“How?”
“The beach house became like the mushroom in the children’s story. Remember the one?”
Linnea squinted. “I don’t think so.”
“It’s one of Hope’s favorites. All these animals seek shelter from the rain under a mushroom barely big enough for one. The rain kept coming down and the animals kept arriving. Somehow, they all managed to find shelter. When the sun comes out the following morning, they discover what happens to a mushroom in the rain. It grows!” Cara smiled. “It’s such a sweet story. Your care and love is the rain, Linnea. As it was your grandmother’s. Love grows. That is the magic of the beach house.”
She reached out to smooth a lock of Linnea’s hair that was falling across her face and tucked it behind her ear. Linnea closed her eyes at the gentle touch, feeling it deeply.
“Sometimes, though, a woman gives too much. When things start to fall apart, when you begin to feel angry, when you make mistakes, it’s time to stop and take stock.” She laughed. “Control is an illusion. I learned that lesson.”
“I guess I still have to learn that one,” Linnea said.
She felt something scratching at her hand. Startled, she softly shrieked and looked down. A hatchling was trying to climb over her fingers. “Oh my God, Cara! The hatchlings. They’re coming!”
Oh so carefully, Linnea and Cara rose to their feet, lest they step on one of the dozens of hatchlings scrambling past them. Even as she moved slowly. Linnea felt her excitement bubble.
“I’ll stay by the nest. You guide them to the sea,” Cara called out.
Linnea flicked on her red flashlight and made her way gingerly ahead of the squadron of tiny brown hatchlings marching toward the ocean. In the dim light they looked more like moving pebbles covering the beach. Some were circling around and heading back to the dune. There were too many of them for her to use her feet as blockades.
“They’re turning!” she called to Cara.
“Be the moon!”
Linnea hurried to the surf and, thankful she was wearing sandals, stepped into the sea. The water was bathwater warm and as dark as ink. She hated being in the ocean at night; it was hunting time for sharks. She’d seen more than her share of sharks in shallow water. Still, the hatchlings were disoriented and duty called. Higher by the dune, she saw the narrow beam of red light of Cara’s flashlight as she walked with the red bucket, scooping up hatchlings to bring them closer to the water and safety. The perils of a dark sky with bright streetlights were a deadly combination.
Be the moon, she thought.
Linnea walked deeper into the sea, stopping at her knees. Then she flicked her flashlight to white light and let it shine across the waterline to compete with the bright lights of the streetlamps and houses. She watched as the hatchlings turned once again toward the white light, toward the sea. Cara reached the shoreline and, lowering to her knees, tilted the bucket and released the hatchlings. They raced off in their comical fashion, flippers scrambling, forward toward the bright light and home.