The Summer's End (29 page)

Taylor's brows knit and he searched Harper's face. Then he reached out to take her hand in his. “I don't want to argue. Let's
table this discussion until you get a job. One that you love and are excited about. It's not fair for me to put any pressure on you.”

She felt a rush of relief. “I have so much I'm figuring out now. I've got to be realistic and accept things the way they are rather than the way I wish they'd be.”

“I know.”

She took a deep breath, trying to hold herself together and not cry. “I don't know if I can stay here.”

He nodded soberly. “I know.”

T
he next day Taylor began painting the cottage, and Harper dove into her job search in earnest. She wasn't sorry to have a reason not to be around Taylor at the moment. They'd finished their dinner last night in mostly strained, sad silence, each aware of the ticking clock that hung over them. They ended the night with a tender kiss on Sea Breeze's front porch, but Harper knew they both needed some space to figure things out.

Meanwhile, Dora was in stride with her job at the dress shop, and Nate had settled into his new school. Mamaw had at last begun to sort through her belongings, starting with her clothing. Filled black plastic bags began piling up in her room. Only Carson remained in a funk behind her closed door. Still, Sea Breeze appeared relatively calm.

Until Devlin called with the news that he'd scheduled a showing of the house.

There followed a flurry of cleaning and polishing. Harper raked and weeded the gardens. Taylor's father came to help with the painting. Everyone chipped in, working hard, each holding at bay the heartbreak that this showing implied. By Labor Day, Sea Breeze had never looked better. On the afternoon of the showing, they cleared out of the house, each to a separate destination.

It was, Harper thought, a sobering hint of the exodus to come.

Carson was on her way to the coffee shop. All she wanted from life right now was a nice cup of iced chai latte in an air-conditioned room. She drove her car down the business section of Middle Street. She loved these few blocks of shabby-chic restaurants and shops crowded together, each with its own quirky look. There was nothing mainstream about it, not a chain store in sight.

Only 10:00 a.m., and the lunch crowd hadn't yet descended. This used to be a sleepy town of locals. Now it was getting so crowded with guests and tourists in the summer that some of the charm had fallen off into the vortex of tourist trap.

Carson never entered Cafe Medley without thinking of Blake and their first coffee here. Here, he'd forgiven her for lying to him about Delphine. She had serious thinking to do about that man. She placed her order and waited, crossing her arms and brooding.

She had known from the start that Blake Legare would be trouble. He wasn't even her type. Not LA cool or movie-star
sexy or model gorgeous. He wasn't in the film business at all. Or wealthy. She'd fallen in love with a federal employee who worked long hours for low pay because he loved what he did. A simple man with simple tastes and strong convictions. He loved the lowcountry, his family, his dog, dolphins—and her.

Yes, he loved her. And that frightened her.

“Carson?”

She startled at hearing Blake's voice just while she was thinking of him. She jerked her head around to see him standing in front of her, a large, steaming mug in his hand. Blake wore his usual baggy khaki shorts and a faded brown polo shirt, the collar not fully turned out. She half smiled, knowing he didn't notice such things.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

The server handed her the cup of chai. She started walking toward a table, Blake following her. She was vaguely annoyed. She'd wanted to be alone, to think. Lately, it seemed every time she turned around, he was there.

She took a seat at the tiny table. “Shouldn't you be at work?”

“I am. I'm responding to a dolphin stranding. We're shorthanded and I took the call. Glad I did.” His eyes sparked as he pulled out a chair.

They sat across from each other at the small bistro table. Blake leaned forward, his gaze searching her face. “How are you?”

Carson looked at her mug, despondent. “I'm fine.”

“What's wrong?” he asked, concerned.

“Blake, nothing's wrong. Stop asking me that.”

“I'm just worried about you.”

“Stop hovering!”

He sat back against his chair with a hurt expression. “I'm not hovering. I just walked in for a cup of coffee and here you are.”

“Yes, you are hovering. You've been stopping by the house all hours of the day and night, always checking on me, always asking me how I am.”

He looked stricken. “You just lost the baby. Our baby. I care!” he added with heat. “Isn't that what a boyfriend is supposed to do?”

She didn't reply.

After a long, pained pause Blake's face fell. “Oh. I see. We're there again. You don't want a boyfriend.”

She stared at her hands, clenched tight around the frosted glass.

Blake gave a short groan. He leaned far back, tilting the chair on its hind legs, and, turning his head, stared out the window, his face set.

Carson's heart ached for him. The part that loved him.

Blake put his hands on the table and looked at her. His tone was cool. “I don't want to talk about this now.”

She looked at her mug. “I don't, either. But we need to.” She glanced up quickly and saw his face. His head was bent and he was staring intently at his cup. “Blake, I don't want to be this woman who always hurts you.” She tried desperately to find words to make him believe the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him again. “That's not who I am. But that's what keeps happening, over and over.”

He was still staring at his coffee. “Yeah, it does.”

“I care for you. Maybe even love you.”

Blake glanced up at her, his dark eyes shining. “You're going through a lot now.”
He spoke quickly, as though trying to convince her. “I get that. But you don't have to keep pushing me away. You keep doing that and you keep coming back. You don't have to go through this alone.”

“Yes, I
do.
” She looked at him, her eyes pleading him to understand. In a small pause she gathered her thoughts. She looked out the window as she spoke. “Having a baby was always something I thought I'd do someday. In the future. Then I got pregnant and all these hormones started racing through my body. Suddenly I had all these new feelings bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. Feelings I'd never had before. I was a sea of maternal instincts. I
wanted
the baby.” She paused and glanced at him. “And then, the baby was gone.”

Carson had to take a breath to still the trembling of her voice. This was hard to talk about without crying.

“But the problem is, the hormones are still raging. I feel emotional, weepy, sad, angry . . . and sometimes almost relieved.”

She wiped her eyes with her fingers. Blake handed her a paper napkin, which she promptly used to blow her nose. When she spoke again, her voice was low and controlled.

“Somewhere in all that mire is the me I used to be. Someone strong. Confident. Someone I liked. Someone not like
this.
” She swept her hand beside her body.

“You're still the same person.”

“No, I'm
not,
” she said with heat.

Blake fell silent.

“I need to find that person again. And I need to do that alone.”

“Why alone? That's always been your MO when things got tough.
You turn tail and run. Don't do it, Carson. Not just to me, but to yourself.”

Carson shoved away her mug. “I had this experience. It was under anesthesia and like a dream. Later I had the same dream over and over. It was freaking me out. I talked to Harper and she asked me if I'd ever heard of spiritual totems.” Carson smirked and lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “Me, right? As if. But then she showed me something online about animal totems and we looked up shark.” Carson blew out a plume of air. “It was weird. Suddenly, it all made sense.”

“What made sense?”

“According to the book, when one gets a message from the shark, it represents survival. The shark is a master of survival. Those given a shark totem live their lives attuned to their primal instinct. That's when it clicked.”

She leaned forward. “The night before Lucille died, she told me to trust my instincts. Lucille knew me better than anyone and she told me the same thing! After she died, I went with my instinct about the baby. To protect that life.” Carson's voice wobbled and she saw Blake's eyes fill with tears. “That was why I decided to keep the baby. I was following my instincts.”

He nodded, his lips tight, unable to speak. He reached out to grasp her hand on the table. In that moment, they shared the grief of their lost child.

She released his hand with a gentle pat, then sat back, gathering her emotions. Her mind was clear but her heart was heavy. “The book went on. Those with a shark totem are always moving forward. To be motionless is to sink. To die. I've thought about this a lot since the miscarriage. We both know I've been floating
around without forward motion for a long time. I think that was the message of the shark. I need to get swimming again. Or I'm going under.”

“I won't let you go under. I'm here for you.”

She closed her eyes, pained by his constant attempts at rescue. She knew he'd never let her swim alone. He'd always be there to hold her tight. If she allowed that, she'd be trapped, and like a shark held over on its back, she'd be unable to move forward.

“Blake, I'm asking you to back off for a while.”

He expelled a loud frustrated breath.

“Just for a little while. I need to find myself again, to get back to the water. And I need to do this on my own.”

“So you
are
breaking up with me. Again.”

“No, I'm not breaking up with you. I'm taking a time-out.”

Blake pushed back his chair to rise and it made a loud scraping sound, almost tipping over. His face was stoic but hard, and his eyes reflected his hurt. “Yeah. Sure. No problem.” He lifted his hands in the universal
I'm done
manner.

He turned to leave, walked a few steps, then spun on his heel and headed back to the table. Carson crouched in her chair, knowing a hurt was coming.

Blake bent low and spoke in a low voice hot with emotion. “But you know what? You weren't the only one who was hurt. I lost a baby, too.”

Their gazes locked, each pained and unyielding. Then he turned and left the coffee shop without another glance.

Mamaw sat in the shade of Girard's back porch. From where she sat, she had a lovely view of the Sea Breeze dock. The house peeked out from behind heavy palm fronds. She sighed heavily.

Girard put his hand over hers on her lap. “Penny for your thoughts.”