Then it was over.
Linnea slowly returned to shore, her heels deep in the undersea sand, the warm water swirling around her thighs… her calves… her ankles. She stepped out of the sea as the last hatchling’s dive instinct kicked in. A winsome smile crossed her lips as the tiny creature caught an outgoing wave, flippers stroking hard. Then, in an instant, it disappeared.
She felt akin to that young turtle, seeking its destiny in the swirling, dark waters. Moving forward, always onward, toward… what?
Cara and Linnea turned in tandem and slowly walked back to the nest. They knelt in the cool sand and in a companionable silence, began scooping sand and filling in the gaping hole. When the nest was closed, Cara smoothed out the surface then placed an X on the top so the turtle team would know that the nest had emerged.
Finished, Cara sat back on her haunches and took a deep breath. There was a unique stillness in the wee hours of the morning. Solitude was keenly felt.
“This never gets old,” Cara said.
“Never,” agreed Linnea.
Cara slid to her side to sit comfortably, appearing not ready, even unwilling, to let go of this serenity. Linnea felt it, too. After so much turmoil, she felt no urgency to pack up and head indoors. The night air welcomed them with gentle breezes, the velvety darkness blanketed them, and the gentle lapping of the waves in the distance was a crooning lullaby.
She thought again of the turtle.
“When the hatchling enters the sea, do you think it wonders what tomorrow will bring?” she asked. “Does it fear the darkness? What propels that young creature to stroke so determinedly, even eagerly, into the unknown?”
Cara didn’t reply for a while. As she sat in silence, Linnea began to wonder if she would, or if she’d even heard her. Linnea joined her in looking out into the sky so dark she could barely make out the outline of sea and surf. Then she heard Cara’s voice.
“Long ago, on a night much like this,” Cara began “my mother told me a story. I, too, was feeling unsure. About a lot of things.” She laughed shortly. “About a man. Should I stay or should I go? Should I marry or live on my own? Should I, should I, should I?”
She paused and Linnea thought about her own litany of should I questions running through her mind.
“Mama told me to remember the turtle,” Cara continued. “ ‘They’re ancient dinosaurs. They’ve been around for over one hundred million years, and they survived all those years because they follow their instincts.’ ” Cara turned to look at Linnea. “Mama looked at me and said, ‘Follow your instincts.’ ”
“Yes, but… How will I know what is my instinct and what is some rambling fear or worry?”
“My darling girl, have courage! When the hatchling runs into the sea it is following its instinct, without fear or doubt. Onward! Perhaps it’s time to stop asking the questions and simply listen. When the answer reveals itself, you will feel peace in the knowing.”
Cara moved to face Linnea. “I understand your doubts. I had my bags packed, a ticket in my hand, plans made, and yet I felt conflicted about my decision. Doubt niggled me. Then the night before I was to leave I stood at the precipice of a dune and looked out at a scene unfolding before me—hatchlings racing to the sea, my family guiding them, Brett standing at the surf—and I knew.”
Cara reached out to place her hand on Linnea’s arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “So now I’m telling you. Follow your instincts. Listen to your intuition. Trust yourself. That is where you’ll find your truest advice.”
chapter eighteen
I can’t say yes to you until I say yes to myself.
LINNEA SLOWLY CAME to terms with her grief over Flo’s passing. Since the night of the fight, she’d avoided talking to Gordon or John. Keeping to herself, taking long walks on the beach, looking at old photographs in a week’s peaceful solitude helped return her to an equilibrium that had been missing for the past several weeks… even months.
But she knew she couldn’t dodge the conversation any longer. This morning she’d called Gordon and asked him to come over for tea. She boiled a kettle, set a tray, and carried it outside to the deck. She noticed how dry the earth of her potted plants had become. The leaves were beginning to look a little yellow.
A noise from behind brought her attention to the steps. She exhaled, seeing Gordon step onto the deck. In his hands he carried a bouquet of pink roses. The skin around his eye had turned that faint yellow of a healing bruise. She was sorry to see it.
She shook her head as he drew near. “Look at you,” she said with sympathy.
“You should see the other guy.”
Linnea laughed congenially, grateful he still had his sense of humor. He handed her the flowers and she accepted them, bringing them to her nose. There was no scent.
“Pink roses are said to mean I’m sorry,” he told her.
She looked up at him over the blush colored roses. The bloom of her love for Gordon had passed. She knew that now, and it gave her courage and compassion. “I’m the one who should say I’m sorry.”
“Why? You did nothing wrong.”
“But I did. I’ve come to understand quite a few things in the past several days.” Linnea extended her arm toward the pergola. “Do you want to sit down?”
Gordon followed her to the wicker table. Before she sat, she asked, “Tea?”
He put up his hand and gave a quick shake of his head. It was a simple gesture, yet refined. Linnea realized that she had always noticed his effortless elegance; now, knowing his lineage, she understood so much more. She couldn’t see him without thinking of his title.
“I heard you’ve moved out of the loft?”
“Yes. I couldn’t stay there.”
“No. Of course. And where…?”
“I’m staying at Pandora’s. She offered.”
A wry smile passed her lips. “Of course she did.”
He looked at his hands.
She felt a new strain between them. His nervousness. In contrast, her calm.
“Gordon, I’m sorry. I see now that I’ve put you… and John… in an indefensible position this summer. I didn’t mean to. Honestly. I was just taking it day by day, like everyone else. Please believe me, I was so happy when you arrived. I have feelings for you. Very strong feelings.” She paused. “What I didn’t expect was that I still had feelings for John.” She glanced at him. He was still looking at his hands.
Gordon looked up and said, “When I arrived, did you know then?”
She shook her head. “I was more annoyed by my feelings for him. I honestly didn’t expect it to be an issue between us. We tried to be friends. And when I felt stronger feelings, I fought them. Truly, I did. But clearly, I failed. I apologize for that.”
Gordon’s silence spoke volumes.
“And maybe now,” she said, “you owe me an apology as well.”
His brows rose. “Me? What have I done?”
“You tell me, Lord Carr, Viscount of Rochester.”
Understanding flooded his face. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. After a minute he asked, “Pandora told you?”
“She didn’t tell you she had?”