“Yes. And I still don’t really like her. Father. I keep trying, but I just don’t.”
“You’re making a sincere effort, Shelly, and that’s what matters.” He looked at his watch.
“I’d better get back to this paperwork,” he said.
“And you to your dusting.”
“Right!” She jumped up from her seat and began working at the blinds once more.
Sean looked at the papers spread out in front of him, then shut his eyes. Rory Taylor.
His hands trembled as he put the top on the pen and rested it on the desk. He would never be able to concentrate on hearing confessions now.
Daria awakened hungry that Saturday morning. The sun light poured into her bedroom, where everything was white and blue and clean and bright, and she felt the blissful realization that she did not have to go to work or teach a class or do anything other than goof off all day. Perhaps she would go to the gym. Perhaps Rory would go at the same time. Then, suddenly, she remembered that Ellen and Ted were in the cottage, and her mood plummeted.
They had arrived the night before, and Daria had instantly felt her spirits sink when their car pulled into the driveway. She hadn’t had to deal with her cousin since the summer before, and only now did she realize how heavenly the year had been without Ellen’s opinions and interference Daria had greeted the two visitors, then pleaded exhaustion and went to bed, feeling a little guilty leaving Chloe and Shelly to provide hospitality.
Ellen, along with Aunt Josie, had spent all of her summers at the Sea Shanty until the year she married Ted. Since then, she and Ted and their two daughters came down on occasional summer weekends. They never waited for an invitation. Ellen would simply call and say they were coming, and after all these years, Daria felt unable to tell her no. Anyway, Chloe would never let Daria turn their cousin away. Chloe was able to view Ellen from an entirely different perspective.
“We have to understand why Ellen is the way she is,” she would say.
“Her father died when she was little. Aunt Josie wasn’t exactly the warmest, most maternal human being on earth. We need to have sympathy for Ellen. We need to show her love and compassion.” But it was hard to show someone love and compassion when all you received was sarcasm and insensitivity in return.
Trying to recapture her good feelings, Daria got out of bed and pulled on shorts and a T-shirt. She glanced out her window at Poll-Rory, wondering if Rory was up yet. Then she walked down the stairs to face her guests.
She found Ellen on the porch, pouring orange juice into glasses on the picnic table. A platter of waffles and sausages rested in the center of the table, and Daria knew that Shelly had busied herself cooking that morning, probably to escape from Ellen.
“Well,” Ellen said, looking up from her task, and Daria noticed that her cousin’s hair was strewn with silver now. The color was actually pretty, especially in the sunlight pouring through the porch screens, but it looked as though a five-year-old had cut her hair with dull scissors.
“You look a little more with it this morning.”
Already, Daria felt her skin prickle.
“I’m sorry I crashed so early last night,” she said, sitting down in one of the rockers.
“It had been a long day at work.” “Well, no one held a gun to your head when you picked such a physical career,” Ellen said. She set the pitcher down on the table and arranged the glasses by the individual place settings.
“Guess I’m just a masochist,” Daria said, unwilling to get into a fight. Better than being a sadist, she thought, remembering the mammogram she’d had the year before. A small cyst had appeared in her breast and her doctor had ordered the test to rule out anything serious. The mammogram had been simple, quick and painless, but she imagined the experience would be entirely different if a technician like Ellen were responsible for tightening that cold plastic vise.
Chloe walked onto the porch and glanced at the table.
“How come there are only four place settings?” she asked.
“Guess,” Ellen said.
“Ted’s going fishing.”
As if on cue, Ted walked onto the porch, fishing pole in one hand, bucket in the other.
“What’s been biting lately?” he asked Daria.
Daria tried to remember the latest fishing report. It was impossible to live in the Outer Banks and not be aware of what was biting.
“Croaker, I think,” she said.
“Spot. Bring us home some dinner, okay?”
She didn’t dislike Ted. He was overweight, with a belly that protruded farther over his waistband every year. He had kind brown eyes and a receding thatch of gray hair. He was bland, reticent and a doormat to his wife, but there was little offensive in his own demeanor. For as long as Daria had known him, Ted would take off for the fishing pier first chance he got, and she didn’t blame him for wanting that escape.
He gave Ellen a peck on the cheek.
“See you tonight, honey,” he said.
“Be ready to fire up the grill when I get home.” “Why?” Ellen asked. “Are you picking up some steaks on the way back from the pier?”
“Very funny,” he said as he left the porch to walk out to his car.
Shelly carried a bowl of fruit onto the porch.
“Let’s eat,” she said, and the four of them sat down at the picnic table.
“How are your girls doing in France?” Daria asked Ellen, scooping some of the fruit onto her plate.
“Oh, they’re loving it. It sounds like they’re doing more shopping and man hunting than studying, though.” Ellen laughed.
“I’m going to miss not having them around this summer,” Daria said honestly. Ellen’s daughters were nothing like their mother, and they always tried to include Shelly in their activities, despite the fact that they were five years younger.
“I can’t say that I miss them,” Ellen said.
“It’s finally peaceful at our house. No loud music. No teenagers running in and out of the house day and night.” She suddenly looked at her watch.
“How come you’re not working today?” she asked.
“You always used to do your EMT work on Saturdays, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but I’m taking a break from it,” Daria said.
Ellen looked surprised.
“Supergirl’s getting too old for that regimen, huh?” she asked.
“Something like that,” Daria said, taking the easy way out.
“And where’s Pete?” Ellen asked.
“Feels strange not to have him hanging around here.”
“We broke up,” Daria said.
“You’re kidding.” Ellen looked genuinely sympathetic.
“You were so perfect for each other,” she said.
“He was your type, I always thought. You need that super masculine sort of guy, you being the athletic type yourself. You only look feminine next to a man like Pete.”
“Well, it just wasn’t meant to be,” Daria said, thinking that Ellen had even managed to turn her condolences into an insult.
Daria heard the slamming of the porch door across the cul-de-sac and instantly turned in the direction of the sound, as if she’d been waiting for it. Rory was walking across his yard to his car. Daria extracted herself from the picnic-table bench and opened the porch door.
“Hey!” she called.
“Do you want to go to the athletic club later?”
Rory stopped to look at her, his car door half-open.
“I have company coming today,” he said.
“Oh, okay. See ya.” She closed the door and took her seat at the table again, trying to mask her disappointment. She wondered if “company” meant Grace.
Ellen was staring across the cul-de-sac.
“Is that…?”
“Rory Taylor.” Shelly finished the sentence for her.
“Well, my, my, my,” Ellen said.
“After all these years.”
“He’s going to find my real mother,” Shelly said.
“He’s going to try, hon,” Daria corrected her.
“You know he might not be able to.”
“Well, that’s an asinine waste of time,” Ellen said.
“What does asinine mean?” Shelly asked.
“Oh, come on, Shelly, you know that word,” Ellen said.
“Stop playing stupid.”
“I don’t know it,” Shelly protested.
“It means, what on earth is the point in him trying to find your mother?” Ellen said.
“What will you do with her once you find her?
Take her on the Jerry Springer Show so you can yell at her for screwing up your life? “
“Ellen.” Chloe made a very un-nun like face.
“Be kind.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Shelly said.
Daria knew that when her younger sister’s voice took on that tinny edge, she was two seconds away from crying.
“We would all rather Shelly didn’t pursue this,” she said to Ellen, “but it’s important to her.”
Shelly looked surprised at her sudden support.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Well, good,” Ellen said.
“Shelly’s finally being allowed to make a decision on her own. After twenty years of you telling her when to blow her nose.”
Daria could think of no suitable retort that would not upset Chloe, so she kept her mouth shut. Ellen had always complained about Daria’s over protectiveness toward Shelly. Right from the start, she’d tried to change Daria’s approach with her. Shelly should have been in regular public-school classes, she’d argued. She would have learned to keep up eventually. She should be forced to live on her own and get a real job like everyone else. Daria babied her too much. Shelly had never learned to stand on her own two feet. And on and on.
Ellen had no sympathy for Shelly’s fears. Even at Sue Cato’s funeral, when Shelly was beside herself with grief and battling a whole new crop of fears precipitated by the loss of her mother, Ellen saw fit to torment her. After the funeral, everyone went back to the Catos’ house for a dinner of sandwiches and salads. Shelly was sitting on an overstuffed chair in the living room, and Ellen, knowing full well her cousin’s irrational fear of earthquakes, snuck up behind the chair and shook it, sending eight-year-old Shelly flying out of the room in terror. Daria, then nineteen, had smacked her older cousin across the face, starting a brawl that left few physical injuries but plenty of hard feelings.
Chloe suddenly stood up. “I have to go over to St. Esther’s,” she said.
“Do you mind cleaning up?” She was looking at Daria.
“No problem.” She thought Chloe was rather brave to leave her there with Ellen, when she had to know Daria was ready to rip her cousin’s throat out. But she managed to get through the washing and drying of the dishes without incident, and then she escaped to the athletic club, alone.
Ivory handed Grace the glass of lemonade, then sat down in one of the other chairs on Poll-Rory’s porch. They had the cottage to themselves.
Grace had arrived just as Zack left for the water park with Kara and her various siblings and cousins. Rory had felt nervous about this meeting between Zack and Grace, when it would be apparent she was there for some purpose other than to borrow the phone. Zack had merely mumbled a greeting to Grace, then left the cottage with Kara. He seemed truly indifferent to what ever Rory wanted to do. Maybe he was even pleased that Rory had someone to keep him occupied and off his back. ;
Grace was wearing an emerald green sundress, sandals and the blue see-through sunglasses. Her light brown bangs were long and sexy. He liked looking at her.
“Well,” Grace said, “tell me more about the child who was found on the beach.”
He was hoping she would ask that question. They’d talked about the shop she ran in Rodanthe it was part sundries and part cafe, she said and they talked a bit about Zack, and he began to wonder if his story about Shelly was not all that compelling after all. But now she seemed interested, her gaze focused on the cottage across the cul-de-sac.
“What would you like to know?” he asked.
“What do you think people would want to know about her?”
“What her life has been like,” Grace said.
“What she looks like. You said she’s beautiful?”
“She’s a beauty, all right,” Rory said.
“Tall and blond.”
“And brain-damaged.” Grace pursed her lips as though this fact made her angry.
“She’s just a little…” He didn’t want to say simple. Somehow that word was not appropriate.
“She’s… ingenuous, if you know what I mean. I don’t know her well, I’ve only spoken to her a few times, but she seems very trusting in an innocent sort of way.”
“Was she treated well by her adoptive family?” Grace asked.
“She’s loved,” he said.
“Her mother died when she was eight, though, and one of her sisters took over her care.”
“Oh…” Grace frowned.
“Poor little thing. She lost two mothers.”
“I think Daria took terrific care of her, though.”
“What about… holding a job? Can she work? How did she do in school?
What about socially? Did she”— ” Whoa. ” Rory laughed, pleased. He should be writing down her questions so he’d be sure to address them in the program.
“One question at a time. I think she had some special classes. I guess I’ll have to find out more about that. And she works as a housekeeper at a Catholic church, but Daria—her sister—told me she needs a lot of supervision.
Shelly is pretty dependent on her. “
“The brain damage… what do they attribute that to?”
“Something to do with her birth, I guess, or with the time she spent abandoned on the beach. I don’t know. I don’t know if anyone really knows.”
“I don’t see how you can possibly find out who left her on the beach after all this time,” Grace said.
“I mean, I’m a little worried about you being disappointed. It seems like an impossible task.”
He was not worried. All he had done so far was sift through the police records, but he was making a list of people to talk to, including the detective involved in the case and everyone on the cul-de-sac. He didn’t feel rushed. He had the whole summer.
“You’d be amazed the things we’ve found out through researching incidents for True Life Stories,” he said.
“Sometimes the mysteries are solved during the research itself, like the time we figured out who had murdered a little boy, even though the police and FBI had been on the case for years and had turned up nothing. Our researchers brought a different perspective to the case and were able to uncover the real murderer.” He guessed that Grace was not a regular viewer of True Life Stories or she would have known the incredible success the program had had in solving the unsolvable.
“That’s amazing,” Grace said.
“But how exactly will you try to find out who the baby’s mother is?” “By questioning people. Sometimes people remember things now that didn’t seem important enough to report to the police at the time. And they’ll disclose those things to me. Another way we’ve solved mysteries is by presenting all the details of the story on the show, and then people come forward with the truth. You’d be surprised at how often that happens.”
“How sure are you that you’ll be able to solve this one?” Grace asked.
:
“I have a feeling about it,” Rory said.
“Probably whoever abandoned Shelly confided in someone over the years. Or maybe she’s suffering from having made that decision. Maybe she would want to be reunited with her daughter after all this time.”
To his delight, the door to the Sea Shanty opened and
Shelly walked out into the yard. She was wearing her white bikini, her gauzy skirt. She turned in the direction of the beach.
“Speaking of Shelly,” Rory said, nodding in the direction of the Sea Shanty.
“Is that her?” Grace leaned forward in her chair. She lifted the sunglasses off her nose for a better look.
“It sure is,” he said.
“Would you like to meet her?” He was anxious for another opportunity to talk with Shelly himself, but she had already disappeared over the dune.
“We can catch up to her,” he said, and glanced at Grace’s fair skin.
“I have some sunscreen in the cottage you can use.”
Grace stood up.
“I already have some on,” she said.
They began walking toward the beach.
“I used to be a sun worshiper,” Grace said. She held her arm out in front of her as they walked, and studied the pale skin.
“I guess that’s hard to believe right now.”
“Well,” Rory said, “at least you won’t get skin cancer.” He winced.
That had been an insensitive thing to say. Maybe she’d had skin cancer, or some other form of cancer, and that was her problem. He wanted to ask her about her illness, but it felt too much like prying.
“Hey, Shelly!” he called as they crossed over the dune.
Shelly turned at the sound of her name and waved to him as she started walking toward them. The breeze tossed her blond hair into the air and blew her skirt against her long legs, and he wondered if Grace was as captured by the sight of her as he was.
“Hi, Rory,” she said.
“I just wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine,” Rory said.
“This is Grace.”
Shelly smiled and held her hand out to Grace.
“I’m Shelly,” she said.
She wore small, rose-colored sunglasses,
and Rory had to smile. They certainly suited her view of the world.
Grace shook Shelly’s hand, but said nothing.
“Can we walk with you awhile?” Rory asked.
“Sure,” Shelly said.
“Down by the water, okay? I want to get my feet wet.”
Once they began walking. Grace was no longer quiet. She bombarded Shelly with questions. What was her job like? What did she like best about it? What did she like least? What was growing up like for her?
Did she have friends? Shelly answered every question with the sort of childlike honesty Rory was coming to expect from her.
“Rory told me about… how you were found on the beach,” Grace said.
“Did you always know about that? Did you always know that you were adopted?”
“Oh, yes,” Shelly said. She giggled.
“It was pretty obvious, anyway. I mean, everybody else in my family has really dark hair, and they’re not very tall. And there I was, , this skinny, blond string bean.” I “But it sounds like your adopted family took great care of you, right?
Maybe it was for the best that your mother. deserted you, and you ended up with a good family. “
“Absolutely,” Shelly said.
“I got a really good family.” “Were you always very tall?” Grace asked. “I mean,;
were you the tallest girl in your class when you were growing up?
You’re nearly as tall as me. ” | ” Yup,” Shelly said.
“And I think, actually, I’m taller i, than you.”
She looked at the top of Grace’s head, measuring.
“The beach is slanted, and it’s hard to tell.” ?
“Kids always teased me when I was young,” Grace’s said. “They said I looked like Olive Oyl. Did you get i teased a lot?” “No, hardly at all. Daria wouldn’t let anybody tease me.”
“Daria is her sister,” Rory explained, m case she’d forgotten.
Grace nodded.
“Yes. The one who found her… found Shelly.”
“She’s Supergirl,” Shelly said.
“You mean… because she saved you?” Grace asked.
“Me and a lot of other people. She’s an EMT. Well, she was, anyhow.”
“She sounds like an amazing person,” Grace said.
“I’m so glad she’s taken such good care of you.”
Rory was beginning to feel superfluous to the conversation, but he didn’t mind. He was taking mental notes, trying to ascertain from Grace’s questions what aspects of Shelly’s life would be of interest to his viewers.
“Rory said you make necklaces out of shells,” Grace said.
“Not just necklaces,” Shelly said.
“All kinds of jewelry.”
“I’d like to see your jewelry sometime,” Grace said.
This was Grace’s natural style, Rory thought: passionate interest in others. He liked that about her very much. He wondered if she would be able to draw Zack out with her questions, the way she was doing with Shelly.
“You know,” Grace began slowly, “sometimes when babies have a rough start in life, as you did, they develop health problems. Do you have any special health problems?”
The question struck Rory as odd. Intrusive and leading. Was she trying to get Shelly to admit to the brain damage? What on earth was Grace’s purpose in that?
But Shelly did not seem the least bit put off by the question. In fact, she embraced it.
“Yeah, actually, I do,” she said, a look of surprise on her face.
“How did you know that?” She looked at Rory.
“She’s really smart,” she said, nodding toward Grace, who wore a tight smile.
“I guess she is,” Rory said.
“I get seizures,” Shelly said.
“Do you think it’s because I was left on the beach?”
Grace touched her arm in comfort, and Rory was moved by the gesture.
It seemed as if it had been the right question to ask, after all, and he thought that Grace was an amazing woman. Intuitive, curious and kind. Why on earth would her husband have left her? Of course, he didn’t know if that was the way it had happened. And anyway, Glorianne had left him.
“Perhaps, but not necessarily,” Grace answered Shelly’s question.
“Some people are born with that problem. You probably would have the seizures whether your mother left you on the beach or not. How often do you have them?”
“Not very often,” Shelly said.
“But I’ve never gone a year without one, so I can’t drive. Which is annoying.” Shelly made a face.
“Daria or somebody has to drive me everywhere. Although I walk a lot. I can walk to St. Esther’s if the weather’s not too bad. Anyhow, I take medicine, and that helps me not have them as much.”
“Rory told me he wants to tell your story on his TV show. What do you think about that?”
“I think it is extremely cool,” Shelly said, grinning. Then she instantly sobered as she looked at Grace’s shoulders.
“Your shoulders are burning,” she said.
Rory saw she was right. The skin next to Grace’s green sundress was turning pink.
“We’d better go back,” he said.
“Or you’ll be sore tonight.”
They stopped walking and Grace glanced at her shoulder, scowling.
“You have to start out really slow getting a tan in the summer,” Shelly advised.
“And use lots of 15.”
“Thanks.” Grace smiled at her. She looked up at the sun, as if wishing it might go away. Then she sighed.
“Yes, I guess we’d better go back.”
“I’m going to keep walking for a while,” Shelly said.
“It was nice meeting you. Grace.”
“And you, too, Shelly,” Grace said. She watched as Shelly took off down the beach, then began walking next to Rory.
“What a delightful young woman!” Grace beamed.
“You were great with her,” Rory said.
Grace looked surprised by the compliment.
“I just talked to her, that’s all. She’s quite easy to talk with. I see what you mean about her being… ingenuous. Someone could take advantage of her way too easily.”
“And I don’t want to do that,” Rory said, instantly defensive.
“Oh, I wasn’t suggesting you would.”
“Sorry. I’m a little sensitive about it because Daria thinks I shouldn’t delve into Shelly’s past. But Shelly wants me to. You can tell that, can’t you?”
“Yes, she does,” Grace said slowly.
“But maybe she doesn’t know what’s best for her.”
They walked in silence for a while, and Rory wondered how Zack would respond to all of Grace’s questions.
“Would you like to go out to dinner with my son and me tonight?” he asked as they climbed over the diminutive dune to the cul-de-sac.
“Oh, thank you,” she said, “but I have to work.”
Although she seemed far stronger today than she had the first time he’d met her on the beach, she was once again tremulous as he walked her to her car in his driveway.
“Do you need a glass of water or anything before you go?” he asked.
“No, thank you.”
“You seem shaky all of a sudden,” he said.
“I just…” Grace looked toward the cul-de-sac as she got into the driver’s seat.
“I guess I’m just thinking about Shelly. I feel sorry for her. For what she’s been through.”
Rory nodded.
“I know,” he said.
“She’s had a good life with the Cato family, but I still get angry every time I think about that woman who abandoned her on the beach. Shelly came” -he held his thumb and forefinger a quarter of an inch apart “—this close to dying.”
Grace stared through her car window toward the beach.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be too quick to pass judgment on that woman without knowing the circumstances, Rory,” she said.
“Who knows what she was going through?”
Daria sat on the beach under an umbrella Saturday afternoon. The beach was crowded, but she’d managed to find a small patch of sand near the sea oats for herself. She was reading an architectural magazine–or at least she was trying to. Guilt was taunting her, sapping her concentration. Her old Emergency Medical Services supervisor had called her that morning, telling her they were desperately short-staffed, begging her to come in. They must think I’m being stubborn, she thought. They didn’t know it was fear and shame that kept her from climbing into the back of an ambulance and rushing off to the scene of an accident.
“Let’s go crabbing.” The voice came from behind her, and she turned to see Rory approach her chair. He had on a gold T-shirt, black shorts and a straw hat that made her laugh.
“Crabbing?” she asked.
“I don’t think I’ve done that since we were kids.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Rory said.
“We spent half our time crabbing back then, and I didn’t even like the way crabs tasted. But I do now, so how about it? I even got some bait in anticipation of you saying yes.”
Daria thought of the old crab net and traps gathering dust in the Sea Shanty’s storage shed. She looked up at him.
“You deserted me back then, do you know that?”
“Deserted you?” He looked like Huck Finn in that straw hat.
“Yeah. You dumped me for the older kids.”
Rory studied the horizon, as though pondering what she’d said.
“Yeah, I guess I did. I remember that hanging around you began to seem like a liability, ‘cause I was trying to fit into a different group. Never did succeed, anyhow.” He smiled at her.
“Sorry.”
“You’re forgiven.” She stood up, deciding to leave her chair and umbrella right where they were.
“Let’s go crabbing,” she said.
“Great! Should we drive?”
“How about bike?” she suggested. She knew that he and Zack had rented bicycles for the summer, and she had one of her own.
Rory got the bait from his cottage, while Daria gathered the old equipment from the storage shed. She met him in the cul-de-sac, where they split the equipment between her bike and his, and they set off across Kill Devil Hills for the sound side pier.
She rode behind him, trying to focus on the cars instead of the way he looked on his bike. They’d had a few conversations over the past few days—on the beach and at the Sea Shanty and once at the athletic club—and every conversation had the same focus: Grace or Zack. Rory had seen Grace several times now, and Daria wondered how far that relationship had gone. He talked about being enamored of her, but not about the intimate details Daria both longed to know and hated to imagine. She’d met his adorable son, Zack, who looked so much like Rory at that age that she’d had a hard time looking him straight in the eye. While riding on her bike behind Rory’s, she had to admit that she had herself one more good male friend. Great.
The pier was remarkably empty for the time of year, but the day was so splendid, that Daria imagined everyone was at the beach. They carried their equipment to the end of the pier, put a fish head in the trap and lowered the trap into the water. Rory tied a second fish head to a string and dropped it over the side of the pier. He wiped his hands on a rag with a grimace.
“Been a while since I’ve had fish head on my hands,” he said.
“You might as well just give in to it,” she said.
“No way you can crab all afternoon and not go home smelling like the sound.”
He sat next to her on the pier, their legs dangling above the water.
The sound was littered with Hobie Cats and Sunfish and windsurfers, and in the distance, a parasail soared above the water.
“Weird,” Rory said.
“For a minute, I felt like I was a kid again, sitting here with you. Then I looked down at our legs and saw these grownup legs and it gave me a jolt.”
She smiled. So he’d looked at her legs and seen grownup legs, nothing more. She guessed he preferred Grace’s long white legs to the tanned, muscular ones she possessed.
Rory had a beach bag with him, and he opened it and handed her a can of Coke.
“Thanks.” She took the can from him and popped it open.
“So,” Rory said after taking a swallow of the soda, “What do you remember about the morning you found Shelly?”
Daria felt a deep disappointment. In the conversations they’d had over the past week or so, Rory had not brought up this topic, and she’d been pleased that he seemed to be letting it go. Now she felt betrayed. Was this why he wanted to spend time with her today? To pick her brain about Shelly for his show?
“I don’t want to help you with this, Rory,” she said.
“You know I’m not happy that you’re looking into the story. I think it’s a big mistake.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“I was just making conversation,” he said.
“You were not.”
“Was too. I was just remembering how you became Supergirl. An eleven-year-old hero. I didn’t know any other kid, myself included, who could have picked up a blood-covered baby and carried it home. I would have run home and gotten my mother. And by that time, the baby probably would have been dead.”
She felt as though she’d been a bit harsh with him and decided to open up, if only a little.
“Finding Shelly changed my life,” she said.
“In a whole lot of ways. I learned the facts of life overnight. I didn’t know what the placenta was—I was disgusted by it—but when my mother explained how the baby was nourished by it, it fascinated me. I decided then that I wanted to become a doctor, probably an obstetrician. It had been an amazing feeling, having that little life in my hands, and I wanted to experience that again.” Daria had not thought about this in a long time, not consciously, at any rate, but it seemed that the memory of carrying the newborn infant, when she had been little more than an infant herself, was still inside her after all these years.
“So, what happened?” Rory asked.
“Why didn’t you become a doctor?”
“I really wanted to,” Daria said.
“I was passionate about it. I took premed courses in college and everything. But Mom got sick. She had a fast-moving colon cancer. I quit and came home. Mom was terrified of dying, not because of dying itself, but because of leaving Shelly. She made me promise to take care of her, which was what I would have done, anyway. She told me I was like Shelly’s mother. She said it was me who truly gave her life, and it used to blow me away to realize that if I hadn’t gone out on the beach that morning. Shelly would never have been part of our family. Mom always let me help with her. Shelly was so beautiful and so… spirited, right from the start. A real smiley baby. She brought joy back into our house. My mother had been going through a depression before I found Shelly. I didn’t realize it then, but of course I do now. Shelly brought her back to life.”
“You sound as though you think there’s something almost… magical about her.”
She smiled at him.
“Don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“She’s definitely out of the ordinary.”
“But she needed a ton of supervision back then,” Daria said.
“I know you think I’m exaggerating when I tell you she can easily be taken advantage of, but it’s true. Right before Mom died. Shelly was kidnapped by this guy who was preying on young girls in our neighborhood. She didn’t even realize she was in danger, just got out of the car when he stopped at a light. She knew she wasn’t supposed to go off with strangers, but the man told her he wasn’t a stranger, so she went with him.”
“But, Daria, she was only eight then. We all did idiotic things when we were eight. You don’t have to protect her to that extent anymore.”
“I’m aware of that,” she said defensively.
“She still doesn’t have good judgment, though. Trust me on it.”
Rory didn’t argue. He pulled up the string, looked at the untouched fish head and dropped it into the water again.
“Didn’t you feel some resentment about having to take care of her, since it meant you had to give up your dream of being a doctor?” he asked.
“None at all,” she said honestly.
“I thought taking care of Shelly was my life’s calling, the way religious life was Chloe’s.” She remembered talking over her decision with Chloe back then. Chloe had cried; she’d wanted Daria to be able to finish school. Once Daria had reassured her that she was doing what she wanted to do in taking care of Shelly, Chloe seemed to accept her decision more readily.
“I got more carpentry training. Do you remember how I used to make furniture with my father?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Well, I loved building things, and I found an outlet for my medical interest by becoming an EMT. I have no regrets.”
“Why aren’t you an EMT now?” he asked.
“Ten years was long enough. I really loved it, though.” Her throat closed up on that last sentence, and she began pulling the trap from the water, hoping for a crab to help her change the subject. She was lucky.
“Look,” she said.
“We’ve got two of them.” She pulled the trap onto the pier and emptied the two large blue crabs into the bucket.
Rory extracted another fish head from the bait box and put it into the trap. He was less vigorous in wiping his hands on the towel this time, and Daria lowered the trap back into the water.
“You said that Shelly can’t leave the Outer Banks,” Rory said.
“Does that mean you plan to live here forever?” She hadn’t allowed herself to think that far ahead.
“I don’t know,” she said, although she did not see how her situation would ever change. “Right now, though. Shelly needs to be here, and I love it here, so there’s no problem.”
“But it’s so sparsely populated. How do you meet people? How do you meet men?”
Daria laughed.
“There are men here,” she said. She had dated numerous men on the Outer Banks, but dating had never played the critical role in her life that it seemed to play for other women. She’d been different: she raised her sister, wore sloppy clothes, worked as a carpenter. Chloe had told her she lacked the “primping hormone,” and she guessed that was the tmth. That didn’t mean, however, that she didn’t have longings. And the man she longed for most was sitting right next her at that moment.
“Men tend to see me as their pal,” she said.
“I don’t understand that,” Rory said.
“You’re attractive and smart and athletic and interesting.”
“Thanks.” She felt herself glow despite her attempt to conceal how much those words meant to her.
“But in a way, it makes sense,” Rory recanted his first statement.
“You’re straightforward and don’t play games. Not like a lot of other women. And I fear Grace is one of them,” he added as an aside.
“So, I could see how guys might treat you like you’re one of them.”
“Well, I haven’t been totally antisocial,” she said, wanting to correct any warped image of her he might be getting.
“I’ve had a few… love interests,” she said, for want of better words to describe the men she’d dated. She remembered the man to whom she’d lost her virginity at the age of twenty. Several days after that momentous occasion, he’d dumped her for a pretty, prissy eighteen-year old and Daria feared it had been her performance in bed that led him to leave her. For a couple of years after that, she was afraid to make love.
She would not tell Rory about that particular guy.
“I had a long-term relationship with someone,” she said.
“I met him when I was twenty-three, right after I moved here, and we dated for a couple of years. He wanted me to quit my carpentry job and wear a dress and red lipstick, and needless to say, we fought a lot. He finally moved away. Then when I was twenty-seven, I met Pete. The infamous fiance Shelly mentioned to you. He was a carpenter and an EMT, so we saw eye to eye on most things and got along great for a long time.”
“What happened?”
“Shelly was a problem for us,” she said.
“Just like
Polly was a problem for you and your ex-wife. Pete said I let Shelly run my life and that I should just”-Daria shook her head ” —cut ties with her, I guess. Or at least let her fend for herself. “
“I can’t see you doing that.”
“You’re right, there was no way I would. It wasn’t an issue at first.
Shelly was only sixteen when Pete and I started seeing each other, so it was a given that I was responsible for her. But as she got older, he wanted me to place her somewhere. “
“Place her? She doesn’t really need that, does she?”
Daria had never thought so, but ever since the plane crash, she was not sure exactly what Shelly needed. She thought of telling Rory about that incident. It would be so good to tell someone, and she was certainly doing her fair share of gut-spilling here. But she didn’t want to burden him with that, or to color his positive feelings about Shelly. She still wondered what the family of the pilot had been told about how she had met her death. Whatever they’d been told, they’d been lied to.
“No, I don’t think she needs a placement,” she said.
“But she does still need me. Pete was offered a job in Raleigh, and he wanted me to go with him, which, of course, meant leaving Shelly behind, and I couldn’t consider that. Even if Shelly would have been willing to move to Raleigh, Pete would never have allowed her to live with us.” Saying this out loud, reliving it, made her angry with Pete all over again.
“He doesn’t sound like a very sympathetic sort of guy,” Rory said.
“Not when it came to Shelly, anyway.”
“You’re right. It does sound like our problem with Polly, although in retrospect, Glorianne and I had drifted apart on a lot of other issues as well. I don’t like thinking about it,” he said with a shudder.
“It was a terrible time,
with Polly getting stuck in the middle. That’s when she died, and I can’t help but think that the stress of living with me and Glorianne contributed to that. “
Daria touched his arm.
“I think it was better that she was with you, no matter what the circumstances, than to be left alone after your parents died. Don’t you?”
“I think so,” he said.
“I hope so.” He looked out to sea, and she saw sailboats reflected in the lenses of his sunglasses. Two small lines creased the skin above his eyebrows, and she wanted to touch them, erase them.
“You’re a good person,” she said softly.
“Iwish you weren’t so hot on digging into Shelly’s past, but I’m still glad you’ve come to Kill Devil Hills this summer.”
He smiled.
“Me, too.”
“I do worry about Shelly’s future, though,” she said. “Is she going to clean the church for the rest of her life? The jewelry she makes has given her an ego boost, and she really needed that, but it hardly earns her a living. I know she should really be in some sort of vocational training program, but there is no such thing here.”
“Can she leave the Outer Banks at all?”
“Her doctor is in Elizabeth City,” Daria said.
“But she freaks out when we go to see him. He always thinks she needs tranquilizers, because she’s such a mess when she’s at his office. He doesn’t realize that she’s completely calm and peaceful when she’s back here.”
“What happens when there’s a hurricane and you have to evacuate?
Shelly said she hates that, but it’s mandatory sometimes, isn’t it?
“
Daria laughed.
“She hides,” she said matter-of factly “I found her in the storage closet once, and just a couple of years ago, she hid out in one of the neighbor’s cottages that had already been evacuated.”
“Poor Shelly,” Rory said.
“She’s still a little girl in so many ways,” Daria said.
“She’s not even interested in men, and I’m really glad about that.
Otherwise, I’d have birth control to worry about, too. “
Rory frowned.
“Even Polly was interested in men and sex,” he said.
“Are you sure about Shelly?”
“Oh, a few years ago she went through a couple of boyfriends, but they were not the nicest fellas. I was afraid they were using her.” She remembered one of them talking Shelly into buying him a television set. “I broke them up. Shelly was angry with me at the time, but I think that now she’s frankly relieved that she doesn’t have to worry about dealing with a boyfriend.”
“So,” Rory said, “in your heart of hearts, who do you think abandoned Shelly on the beach twenty-two years ago?”
She stared at him, incredulous.
“You’re incorrigible,” she said.
“Seriously,” he persisted.
“Do you think it was someone on the cul-de-sac, or” — “I’m certain it was Cindy Trump,” she interrupted him.
“If you must know, that’s who I think it was. I found Shelly on the beach right in front of her cottage. Cindy could have just walked out her back door, dropped the baby close to the ocean, expecting the waves to wash it out to sea, and walked back into her cottage. Job done.”
“So, where is Cindy?” Rory asked.
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know. Shelly is a Cato, Rory,” she said.
“Cindy, or whoever Shelly’s mother was, didn’t want her then.
She doesn’t deserve to have any part of her now. “
Her eyes were suddenly drawn to a woman walking toward the bay, a short distance from the pier, and it wasn’t until Daria spotted the three golden retrievers with her that she recognized the woman as Linda. The dogs splashed in the water. Linda threw a stick far into the bay for them to swim after.
“That’s Linda,” she said to Rory.
Rory turned to look at the woman.
“I met her already,” he said.
“And one of her dogs has a thing for me. She sure has changed.”
Daria could barely remember the timid girl from the old days on the cul-de-sac. This Linda was a tall, impressive-looking woman with short frosty-blond hair.
They watched Linda and her dogs play together for a while. Daria was glad to be off the topic of Shelly and Cindy Trump. But then Rory brought up an even less pleasant topic: Grace. Daria knew that Grace had been at Poll-Rory at least twice in the past few days.
“I introduced Grace to Shelly,” he said.
She knew. Shelly had said that Grace asked her many questions.
“She told me,” she said.
“She has or had, I guess some sort of illness. Do you think it would be crude of me to ask her what it was?”
Daria looked at the crabs in the bucket. One of them raised his claw at her in an angry fashion, but she barely noticed. Rory didn’t even know what Grace’s serious illness was? Exactly how intimate could they be?
“If you ask her in a supportive way, I don’t see why not,” she counseled, hating herself as she slipped willingly into the role.
“You can sympathize with what she’s going through, with her divorce,” he said, “since you and Pete were together so long. All three of us have been there. Except you’re much stronger than Grace.”
His marriage counselor had been right when he’d called Rory a caretaker. He was.
The sun was still high above the horizon, but had grown huge and orange when they packed up their equipment, stuck the bucket of crabs in the basket of Rory’s bicycle and headed back across the island. They rode directly to the Sea Shanty.
Shelly and Chloe were discussing what they should have for dinner when the crabs arrived, and they immediately got into the spirit, digging the crab steamer out from the dark recesses of the cupboards, filling it with water and putting it on to boil. They got out two sticks of butter, hammers, crackers and picks. Laughter filled the kitchen, along with easy chatter, and Daria had to admit to herself that she and Rory were no more than a couple of good friends, cleaning crabs together on a Saturday night
Dob Myerson handed Rory a bottle of beer and took a seat in the wicker chair. The trees outside Bob’s livingroom window dripped with pale, purply Spanish moss, and Rory’s gaze was drawn to them as he told the retired detective the reason for his visit.
“I think you’re going to be disappointed,” Bob said.
“Maybe,” Rory said.
“But I have to try. You were closer to that case than anyone else. I’ve read the police reports, but I’d like to hear it firsthand from you. What do you really think happened?”
The detective’s house was located deep in the woods of Colington Island. Although the island was only a few miles from Kill Devil Hills, Rory had gotten lost and was running late. He was supposed to meet Grace at Poll-Rory at six, and they were planning to go out to dinner with the Cato family. Even Zack was going, although that had taken some arm-twisting. Rory thought he’d be able to squeeze in this meeting with the detective first, but between getting lost and the man’s enthusiasm for discussing football, time was getting short.
The detective sighed.
“We didn’t uncover much, I’m afraid,” he said.
“There were a bunch of teenage girls in the area at that time, and every one of them, it seemed, pointed her finger at someone else. But we couldn’t subject anyone to a physical examination without more evidence to go on. So, if it was one of those girls, well, she got away with it.” He shrugged his thick shoulders, and Rory imagined the detective had been formidable in his college-football days, of which he’d already heard too much.
“But, to be honest,” Bob continued, “I don’t think it was any of them.” “Who do you think it was, then?”
Bob took a swallow of his beer and rested the bottle on his bare knee. “There were a couple of women who’d been reported missing around that time,” he said.
“One of them was from North Carolina, inland a ways, and the other from Virginia. Neither of them was ever found. My best guess is that one of them was Shelly Cato’s mother. The family of the North Carolina girl thought she might be pregnant, although they didn’t think she was that far along. What I think is that the girl was more pregnant than they figured, and she was despondent and scared. I think she delivered the baby right there on the beach sometime that night or early morning, then walked straight out in the ocean and drowned herself.”
“But wouldn’t her body have washed up, then?” Rory asked.
“Oh, you can’t really predict what the ocean’s going to do with a body.” Bob took another swallow of his beer.
“Where can I get information on the girls who were missing?” Rory asked.
“Their names should be in the police report.”
Rory vaguely remembered something about a missing girl or two. He would have to reread those reports.
Bob raised his now-empty bottle of beer in the air.
“Ready for another one?” he asked.
“No, thanks,” Rory stood up.
“I’d better be going. I’m meeting some people for dinner.”
Bob walked him to the door.
“You’re neighbors of the baby’s family, aren’t you?” he asked.
“The Catos?”
“That’s right. That’s who I’m having dinner with.”
“Well, tell that Supergirl Cato… what’s her name?”
“Daria.”
“Right. Tell her to get back to work. I’ve heard they miss her over at Emergency Services.”
“I’ll tell her,” Rory said, although he doubted he would. There was something Daria was not telling him about why she’d quit her EMT position. He’d sensed that each time she talked about it, and he figured she would not take kindly to anyone pressuring her to return to work.
Rory spotted the Catos on the crowded deck behind the sound side restaurant.
“There they are,” he said to Grace and Zack as they walked onto the deck.
Daria and Shelly sat at a large round table with a man and woman. The woman was Ellen, Rory figured, and the man was probably her husband.
Chloe was missing.
He waved, and Daria saw him and stood to wave back. The sound was behind her, still and slate-blue below the setting sun.
“You found us,” she said. She looked scrubbed clean and pretty, no makeup on her tanned face. She wore a sleeveless white dress, and her thick hair was pulled back in a ponytail. No sawdust in it tonight.
“Hi, everyone,” Rory said.
“This is Grace. I guess only Shelly has officially met her. And this is my son, Zack.” He put his arm around Zack and tried to draw him forward, but Zack remained stiff.
“I’ve already met them,” Zack said.
“Well, you’ve met Daria and Shelly, but not Ellen and her husband, right?” Rory tried to keep good cheer in his voice.
“Ellen, hi,” he said, then lied politely.
“You look great.”
“Hello, Rory,” Ellen said.
“Long time no see.” Ellen had put on quite a bit of weight. Of the three Cato girls he’d known from his youth, she had changed the most. The flesh on her face was looser. Her hair had grayed markedly and had lost its healthy sheen. Chloe and Daria were aging far more gracefully, he thought.
“This is Ted,” Ellen said, gesturing toward her husband.
Ted stood and gave Rory a bone crusher of a handshake, yet he was a soft-looking man, with friendly eyes and a spare tire around his middle.
“Honored to meet you,” Ted said.
“I’m an old Rams fan.”
“Me, too.” Rory smiled.
“Have a seat, Zack,” Daria invited, and with a sullen shrug, Zack sat down next to Shelly. Rory held out the chair next to Ted for Grace, then took his own seat between Grace and his son.
“Where’s Chloe?” he asked.
“At a vespers service,” Daria said.
“At St. Esther’s,” Shelly added.
“Ah,” he said.
“What a lovely view from here,” Grace said.
“Surpassed only by the food,” Ted added, and although Rory didn’t look at Zack, he could imagine him rolling his eyes at the banality of the conversation. He knew Zack would far rather be with Kara tonight than at this table filled with adults.
Grace, on the other hand, had accepted the invitation with delight.
She wanted to meet the Catos, she’d said, and she’d love to see Shelly again. Rory was feeling some disappointment in Grace, though, and it had taken him several days to recognize the reason for his subtle dismay:
Grace had shown little interest in Zack. She’d asked the boy virtually no questions, and did not even talk to Rory about him. Rory had brought up the subject several times, trying to get Grace’s input on the relationship problems he and Rory were having, but Grace barely seemed to listen as he spoke. Her indifference came as a surprise and a letdown.
Especially after the interest she’d shown in Shelly. He’d expected too much of her, he knew. She had her own trials and tribulations to grapple with.
“Hey, Dar!” A good-looking man walked by their table on the way to his own, stopping to bend low and kiss Daria’s cheek.
“Hi, Mike, how are you doing?” Daria asked.
“Just great,” he said, giving her bare shoulders a squeeze.
“We miss you.”
“I miss you guys, too,” Daria said.
Mike winked at Shelly, nodded to the rest of the table, then walked across the deck where he joined a woman and another couple.
“One of your pals?” Rory teased Daria.
She wrinkled her nose at him.
“Exactly,” she said.
“Fellow EMT.”
They ordered their dinners. At first Zack said he wanted nothing to eat, but Shelly insisted he try the crab cakes.
“They’re the best in the universe,” she said, and Zack ordered them, probably to stop Shelly from bugging him.
Conversation was superficial but swift. Ted wanted to talk about fishing and football, Ellen, about the shopping spree she had planned for the following day. Grace suggested shops Ellen might try farther south. Rory and Daria joined in the chatter wherever they could, but Rory was keenly aware of Zack’s silence. He wished there was some way he could bring his son into the conversation without it looking obvious and contrived, thereby earning Zack’s wrath.
Shelly suddenly whispered something to Zack, and Rory realized that he was not the only person at this table aware of the boy’s shyness amidst the adults. She whispered again, and a smile crossed Zack’s lips. He
whispered something back to her, and she giggled. The adult con n versation still surged across the table, but Rory listened in on Shelly and Zack to the best of his ability.
“Which one?” Shelly asked Zack.
“Kara,” Zack said.
“She is so cute,” Shelly said.
“Yeah,” Zack said.
“Did you have a girlfriend in California?” Shelly asked.
Rory leaned a little closer to his son, curious to hear his answer.
“A couple,” Zack said. He looked at Rory, letting him know he was on to his snooping, then turned his back on his father and continued talking with Shelly in private. There were more giggles and, on Zack’s part, some outright laughter. Rory smiled to himself, grateful to Shelly. She knew exactly what she was doing, he thought. She’d seen Zack’s discomfort and made the effort to bring him out of his shell.
Their food was served, and halfway through the meal, Shelly asked Zack, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Have you gone to watch the hang gliders yet?”
“Yeah,” Zack said, “and my dad and I are going to take a hang-gliding lesson soon.” He glanced at Rory.
“Right?” he asked.
“Right,” Rory said, pleased to have a chance to draw Shelly and Zack’s private chat into the conversation of the adults.
“We watched one of the classes. It didn’t look that dangerous.”
“Well,” Ellen said to Rory, “I hope your will is up-to- date.”
“Oh,” Shelly said, “I think it would be wonderful. I always wanted to do it, but I was afraid to, because I might have a seizure. But Father Sean hang-glides all the time.”
“Father Sean?” Zack asked.
“Is that a priest?”
“Yup,” Shelly said. “A priest who hang-glides?” Zack asked in amazement.
“I hope Father Macy’s piloting skills are better than his preaching skills,” Ellen said.
The insult seemed to go over Shelly’s head.
“He’s been gliding ever since I can remember,” she said.
“And he even won a contest a few years ago. Right, Daria?” She looked at her sister for confirmation.
“That’s right,” Daria said.
“He won the summer competition. It’s held every year. The next one’s in a few weeks, and I bet he’ll be in it again.”
“If it wasn’t for Father Sean,” Shelly said, “I wouldn’t be sitting here with you all today.”
Ellen laughed.
“No,” she said.
“You’d probably be sitting with a nice, normal family somewhere. Maybe even a wealthy family. Look what you missed out on.”
“Ellen,” Ted said in a voice too small for his size.
“Shelly has a perfectly fine family.”
“Why wouldn’t you be sitting here?” Zack asked Shelly. “What did Father Sean or Macy or whoever he is have to do with it?”
“Sean Macy—the priest—helped my parents adopt Shelly when she was an infant,” Daria explained.
“So we all have a special place in our hearts for him.” “Dad said Daria found you on the beach when you were a baby,” Zack said to Shelly.
“Yes, but I don’t remember it.”
Rory’s mind drifted for a moment. Maybe he should have a talk with Sean Macy, since he’d been involved in Shelly’s adoption. He wouldn’t know anything about Shelly’s parentage, of course, but still, it would be interesting to hear his memories of that time. And the priest certainly sounded human and approachable.
Grace reached for her water glass, and Rory noticed that her fingers were trembling.
He leaned close to her, whispering, “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she whispered back, then suddenly looked across the table at Shelly.
“Do you see what I have on?” she asked, touching her fingers to her throat, and Rory leaned forward to see.
Grace was wearing a shell necklace, probably one of Shelly’s, and he was surprised. She had said nothing to him about it.
“I made that,” Shelly said.
“Yes, I bought it at the Shell Seeker, that little store in South Nag’s Head,” Grace said.
“How did you ever make it? It’s so delicate.”
“Oh, it’s easy, once you know how,” Shelly said.
“It looks very nice on you.” She turned suddenly to Zack. “Have you gone crabbing yet?
Your father and Daria went crabbing the other day. They said they used to go all the time when they were kids. “
Rory was certain Shelly hadn’t meant to be rude, but she’d practically cut Grace off mid-sentence. He felt Grace grow quiet at his side. He reached for her hand beneath the table, and was relieved when she allowed him to take it. Their relationship had been platonic so far.
They had seen each other several times, but only during daytime hours, which didn’t lend themselves to any sort of physical intimacy. They’d spoken on the phone, but Grace was always straightforward, simply wanting to make plans rather than get into prolonged conversations.
And so far, she had vetoed the idea of him coming down to Rodanthe to see her, saying she preferred coming up to Kill Devil Hills. Grace always seemed to keep her distance from him, physically and emotionally. He’d been ready for rejection when he took her hand and was pleased she hadn’t balked.
The waitress cleared away their dishes, then took their dessert orders. Grace ordered nothing.
“God, Daria could sure beat you at swimming, couldn’t she?” Ellen was speaking to Rory, and he turned his attention to her.
“I let her win,” he said simply.
Daria smiled at him.
“We’ll have to have a rematch,” she said.
“We’ll see,” he said. He’d worked out with her at the athletic club once this past week and feared she could probably still beat him.
“Do you remember that time,” Ellen continued, “when Daria stuffed toilet paper in her bathingsuit top and it got wet and started coming out in the water?”
Zack laughed at that, and Daria groaned.
“I tried to forget that, Ellen,” she said.
“I don’t remember it at all,” Rory said.
“That’s because you were ignoring me by then,” Daria said.
He did remember the time Chloe lost her entire bathingsuit top when she was body surfing though. He was about to mention that, but then wondered if it was in poor taste to tell such a story about a nun.
“Daria said you’ve got some crazy notion that you can uncover the secrets to Shelly’s past,” Ellen said.
“Well, I’m trying to, anyway,” he said.
“As a matter of fact, I met with the police detective who covered Shelly’s case this afternoon.”
He caught Daria’s dark look, and knew he probably shouldn’t talk about this with her present. She still disapproved, but it was hard for him to keep quiet about the topic when it was so much on his mind, and Ellen had given him the invitation to speak. “What did he say?” Grace asked. “What were the police able to find out back then?”
The waitress brought their desserts, and Rory leaned back to let her set his chocolate mousse on the table in front of him. Grace let go of his hand then, and reached onto the table to take a sip from her water glass.
“Not a whole lot, I’m afraid.” Rory looked apologetically at Shelly.
“The detective I spoke with thinks that Shelly’s mother was probably one of two teenage girls who had been reported missing at that time and who were never found.”
“It seems strange that no one saw what happened on the beach that morning,” Grace said.
“Aren’t people usually out early to beach-comb or watch the sunrise?”
“There’d been a huge storm the day before,” Daria said.
“No one had been on the beach for at least twenty-four hours. I think I was the first person out there. Or, at least, the second.”
Ted leaned toward Rory, his soft facial features suddenly creased with concern.
“Chloe and Daria think you should leave the past alone,” he said quietly, obviously not wanting Shelly to hear.
“You shouldn’t disrupt Shelly’s life.”
Ellen dismissed her husband with a wave of her hand.
“Let Rory find out for himself that it’s pointless,” she said.
“The police did a thorough investigation back when Shelly was found and they didn’t come up with a thing. Nobody is going to find anything twenty-some years later.” She looked at Rory, false contrition in her eyes.
“Sorry, Rory. I just think you’re on a wild-goose chase.”
“Could be,” he admitted, more to ease the tension than to agree with her.
A pager beeped on the other side of the deck, and although the sound was barely audible where they were sitting, Daria jumped. She looked across the deck, and Rory saw her friend, Mike, raise a small cell phone to his ear. Daria pretended to return her attention to her dessert, but Rory knew she was still focused on Mike, and he wondered if she was interested in him as more than a “pal.”
Mike got up from his table and walked directly across the deck to Daria. He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned close to her ear, but he spoke loudly enough to be heard across the table.
“There’s an accident on 158,
around milepost 8,” he said.
“Two cars and a bicycle. Come with me.”
Daria shook her head.
“We’re short, Daria,” Mike sounded insistent. The skin on Daria’s shoulders was white from the pressure of his fingertips.
“Please,” he said.
“We need you.”
She shook her head wordlessly, her gaze on her key-lime pie, and Mike straightened up and left the restaurant. No one else had stopped talking, and a moment later, Daria raised her head again, smiling, joining in the conversation once more. Everyone chattered as though nothing out of the ordinary had just occurred, and Rory guessed he was the only person at the table to notice the tears in Daria’s eyes.
JLJaria pulled into the Sea Shanty driveway around ten that night, a good hour after leaving the restaurant. She’d sent Shelly home with Ellen and Ted and driven to milepost 8 and the scene of the fiery, deadly accident. She couldn’t say what drew her there. Perhaps she thought she would be able to help, but that was not the case. Oh, they needed her help, all right. But she’d merely lurked around the edge of the scene, just like the other curious onlookers, unable to make herself walk over to the ambulance to help her former EMTs deal with the havoc. The sense of being frozen in place, concealed by darkness, made her feel cowardly and useless, and she’d driven home in tears.
Getting out of her car, she was surprised to see Rory sitting alone on the front steps of the Sea Shanty. Her heart filled at the sight of him. She’d figured he would still be with Grace. He’d been so solicitous of her during dinner. Walking toward him, she hoped it was too dark for him to tell she’d been crying.
“Hi there,” she said, making her voice light and cheerful She sat down next to him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you to get home,” he said.
“Oh,” she said, pleased.
“Well, here I am.”
“Ellen said you went to check on that accident,” he said.
“Yeah, I did. One car swerved to avoid a cyclist and crashed into another car. The cyclist was hit, anyway. I think someone in one of the cars was killed. Both cars were on fire.” She recounted the scene in a flat tone to avoid feeling anything as she spoke.
Rory winced.
“Sounds horrible,” he said.
“It was.” She knew she’d have another of her nightmares that night.
Even though she’d hung back, even though she was not even certain if the cyclist was male or female, she knew the pilot would be back to haunt her.
“I really admire you,” Rory said.
“I can’t imagine doing that sort of work. And the fact that you do it on a volunteer basis makes it even more impressive.”
“Did it,” she said. She didn’t deserve the credit he was giving her.
“I wasn’t there to help. I only watched.”
“I don’t understand,” Rory said.
“It was obvious you were upset when your friend, Mike, tried to persuade you to go with him. I figured you and he had some sort of…” His voice trailed off.
It took her a moment to understand, and she laughed.
“Mike? No. Not at all.”
“Then what was holding you back?” he asked.
“And if you went over to the accident, why didn’t you help?”
“It’s a long story,” she said.
“And not very interesting.” She needed a change of topic.
“So, how was your evening?” she asked.
Rory hesitated, as if deciding whether to allow her this abrupt switch in the conversation. Then he gave in.
“Well, I have to say I don’t really understand Grace,” he said.
“She seems to want to be with me, yet she doesn’t seem particularly interested in me… in a romantic sense, if you know what I mean.”
Daria tried to mask her relief.
“No, I’m not sure what you mean.” She wanted to hear more.
“Well, she seems pleased when I call her. She’s pleased when I ask her to do things with me. But she doesn’t…!
don’t get the impression she wants to be in a relationship. Not with me, at any rate. Tonight at dinner was the first time I’ve even held her hand. “
“You’re kidding,” Daria said.
“No, I’m not. And when I brought her back to Poll-Rory, she darted out of the car before I could attempt to… get any closer. Don’t you think that’s a little strange?”
“Not really,” Daria said. What she did think was that Grace was completely out of her mind. “Her marriage just ended. She probably needs some time to get used to the idea of being with someone else.”
“Maybe,” Rory said.
“It’s just not what I’m used to. Women usually come on to me. I don’t mean that as a brag. I know it’s because of my celebrity, not necessarily because of who I am as a person. But that just makes Grace more interesting to me. She’s so… fragile. Did you pick that up?”
She had, indeed. She’d noticed a tremor in Grace’s hands, and a couple of times, in her voice, as well. It was the first time she’d really seen Grace up close, and she was truly beautiful, in a pale sort of way.
“Yes, I did, Mr. Caretaker,” she said.
“Did you ever ask her about her illness?”
“No. I figure she’ll tell me when she’s ready to.”
“You two need to talk,” she said.
“It doesn’t sound like there’s much communication going on between you.”
Rory didn’t answer. He looked down at his hands, as if studying them in the Sea Shanty’s porch light. Daria wanted to touch one of them, to slip her fingertips beneath his palm and trace a line up his wrist.
“Zack seemed to hit it off with Shelly,” Rory said suddenly.
“He did,” Daria agreed.
“Shelly was so good with him,” Rory said.
“As soon as we got home, though, he and Kara took off for the miniature-golf course.” He shook his head.
“The two of them worry me.”
“Why?”
“I don’t now. Kara looks a little fast to me.”
Daria laughed.
“What does a fast girl look like?” she asked.
“Oh, you know. The way she dresses. The pierced belly button. Too much blond in her hair. Too much eye makeup.”
“Do you think Zack is still a virgin?”
Rory looked at her with wide-eyed disbelief.
“Of course,” he said.
“He’s only fifteen. Give me a break.” “Fifteen-year-olds are a lot different than when we were kids,” Daria said.
Rory said nothing.
“Have you talked to him about it?” Daria asked.
“I mean, do you ever have frank, father-son talks?”
“Iwish.” Rory groaned, lowering his head to his hands. T guess I need to give him the sex-and-responsibility talk. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to get into that yet. He and I can’t even talk about what to have for dinner, much less sex. “
“You probably need to talk with him while you’re doing some activity together. You know how men are more comfortable relating through sports or whatever.”
‘ Ts that how you are, since you hang out with guys all the time? “
“I am still a female,” she said, thoroughly insulted.
He smiled at her.
“I’ve noticed that,” he said.
“Especially tonight at the restaurant. You clean up good.”
“Thanks,” she said wryly. She figured that might be the best compliment she would get out of him.
“You raised Shelly,” Rory said.
“Was she ever rebellious? Did you have any problems with her when she was Zack’s age?”
“Shelly was easy,” Daria said.
“The only time she and I ever butted heads was when I made her break up with those guys several years ago.
She screamed at me. She’d cry and mope. But that was about it for Shelly’s rebellion. “
Headlights turned into the cul-de-sac, and they watched a car approach the Sea Shanty.
“It’s Chloe,” Daria said.
“She must have stayed late at St. Esther’s.”
Chloe pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. Daria and Rory watched her approach the porch steps, and she stopped in surprise at finding them there.
“Oh, hi,” she said. Her face was unsmiling, and Daria knew that was due to Rory’s presence. Chloe wished Rory had stayed in California.
But she took a seat on the steps next to Daria, anyway, and worked at a smile.
“How was dinner?” she asked.
“Great,” said Rory.
“Some terrific restaurants have opened up here in the last twenty years.”
“Yup,” Chloe agreed.
“You won’t go hungry.”
Chloe’s voice was flat, and Daria could almost feel her sister’s discomfort. It was more than Rory that was upsetting her. Daria put her hand on Chloe’s arm.
“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly, but Chloe simply squeezed her hand in reassurance.
Rory didn’t seem to notice Chloe’s distress.
“I know you’re not thrilled with me pursuing this,” he said to her, “but you’re an important part of Shelly’s life, and I’d really like to get your opinion of how she ended up on the beach way back when.”
Daria cringed at Rory’s timing. He didn’t realize how much Chloe resented his intrusion on their lives.
Chloe leaned across Daria to rest her hand on Rory’s knee. She looked at him intently, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks.
“Rory, it just doesn’t matter how
Shelly turned up on the beach,” she said.
“I know you don’t understand. I know it doesn’t fit in with your plans for your show. I know you want the answer to be something dramatic, something you can uncover and expose. But it just isn’t important. Shelly was our gift from the sea. There’s nothing more we need to know.”
Chloe stood up. She squeezed Daria’s shoulder.
“Good night, you two,” she said. She stepped onto the screened porch and disappeared inside the cottage.
“Ouch,” Rory said once she had gone.
“I don’t think Chloe is very fond of me.”
“It’s not just you,” Daria said.
“It’s true she’s upset that you’re probing into Shelly’s life, but she seems withdrawn lately. I’m not certain what’s going on with her.”
“I’m sure I’m not helping,” Rory said.
“Well, she thinks you’re exploiting Shelly.”
“Is that what you think, too?” Rory asked.
“I think your intentions are honorable,” Daria said, “but I’m afraid your prying might do more harm than good.”
Rory was quiet a moment, and when he finally spoke there was exasperation in his voice.
“But Shelly, herself, wants me to” — “Shelly has lousy judgment, Rory,” Daria said. How many times did he have to hear that? She hesitated a moment, then the words slipped out of her mouth as though they had a will of their own. “Do you want to know why I’m not doing EMT work these days?” she asked.
“Do you want to know the truth?”
He said nothing, just looked at her, puzzled and waiting, and Daria shivered. The thought of telling him was both frightening and seductive.
Drawing in a breath, she pressed her clammy palms together and began to speak.
“A few months ago, I was working on a construction job at an old cottage near the beach, about half a mile from here,” she said.
“Pete was working with me, along with Andy Kramer, and this other guy, George. Andy and I were in the house, and Pete and George were outside. Pete suddenly came running into the house, yelling that there was a plane down in the water.”
She remembered running to the front door of the house to look out toward the beach. From where she’d stood, she had not been able to see the downed plane, only a few people running across the sand. She’d taken off her tool belt and dropped it on the floor as she headed out the door” Andy close on her heels.
“I’ll find a phone!” George had shouted as he ran toward the main highway. The cottage in which they’d been working was a summer rental, and since it was only April, the phone had not yet been hooked up.
Daria wasn’t able to see the plane until she reached the squat hill of sand marking the start of the beach. Even then, it had been hard to make out the plane’s shape or size. The sun was low in the sky behind her, reflecting off the water in sharp beams of blinding light.
Pete, already halfway to the water, turned to wave at them.
“It’s an air pig!” he shouted.
Good, Daria thought as she ran after him. If the pontoons weren’t damaged, they would keep the plane afloat. Otherwise, there was very little chance of recovering anyone alive.
People were gathering on the beach, most of them in street clothes, shivering as the evening air grew cooler. They pointed toward the plane, speaking to one another in excited voices. She and Andy pushed through the growing crowd.
“Did anyone call 9 II?” Daria called out.
Several people shouted that they had.
“I called from my cell phone,” a man standing near Daria said.
“How long ago?” she asked.
“Just a few minutes,” the man said.
“Right after the plane hit the water. It just dropped out of the sky. I thought” -Daria didn’t wait to hear more. She ran up to Pete, who was standing at the water’s edge, squinting against the reflected sunlight as he stared at the plane.
“Ocean Rescue should be here in a few minutes,” she said. Ocean Rescue would have a boat. Without a boat, there was little they could do.
“We can’t wait a few minutes,” Pete said as he stripped off his shirt.
“It looks like one of the pontoons is damaged.”
Daria looked again at the plane, and this time she could see it was listing to one side. Someone—she couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman—was pounding against one of the side windows, trying to get out.
“You can’t go out there,” Daria said, although she was thinking of going herself. The plane was not out that far, and she and Pete were both good swimmers.
“What if there’s fuel in the water?”
“I’m not going to stand here and watch” — “Hey! We’ve got a boat!”
Daria turned to see two boys dragging a boat across the sand by a rope. The boat was little more than a dinghy, but it would have to do until something more substantial came along.
“Great!” Pete said. He ran up to the boys, grabbed the rope from their hands and began tugging the boat toward the water. The tattooed muscles in his arms did not even appear to strain with the effort.
Andy and Daria helped him drag the boat into the water, and Daria was about to climb in when she saw the look of longing in Andy’s eyes. He wanted to help; he wanted to save lives.
“Come with us,” she said.
“We can use an extra pair of hands out there.”
Andy climbed into the boat and picked up the oars.
“I’ll row,” he said, and he began pulling against the water. Although he was slender, he was strong, and the craft cut easily through the breakers, heading toward the plane.
Daria looked back toward the beach to see if any of the rescue vehicles had arrived, but she could see only the thickening crowd of people—and Shelly. Shelly stood out from everyone else because of her height, her distinctive blond hair and the assertive way she pushed through the throng toward the water. She was wearing her wraparound skirt, and Daria watched as she untied it and let it fall onto the sand, then walked into the water. She was going to swim out to them!
“Shelly!” Daria called to her.
“Don’t come out! It’s too cold. There could be a fuel spill!”
She knew Shelly couldn’t hear her; the crackling of the waves drowned out every word. Pete heard her, though, and he looked behind them to see why she was yelling.
“Shelly’s in the water,” Daria called to him.
“What’s she doing out there?” Andy asked.
Pete glanced behind him toward the darkening water, then turned back to the front of the boat, but not before Daria had caught the look of disgust in his face. She knew what he was thinking.
It was a moment before she realized that another small boat was in the water, ten yards or so from them. Two men were in the boat, neither of whom she could recognize in the fading light, but she was relieved they were there. She glanced back to see Shelly only a short distance behind them, her smooth strokes propelling her through the water, and Daria felt a thrill of admiration at her sister’s grace and energy—despite her questionable judgment at coming into the water at all. If any fuel had spilled from the plane, it could bum her, or worse yet, ignite. But if the water was clear, they might be able to use Shelly’s help.
The two boats came together as they neared the plane.
“Ocean Rescue’s tied up in the inlet,” a man in the second boat said.
“Capsized fishing vessel. Don’t know when they’ll get here.”
The boats glided close to the plane, and the situation became instantly, painfully clear. There were two women in the back seat of the plane. One was unconscious, a cut on her temple, blood spilling over her ear. The other woman was screaming, pounding on the window, begging them to release her from the plane. The door next to the pilot had been ripped off by the force of the crash, and the pilot appeared to be unconscious. At first, Daria thought the pilot was a man. All of them did. A man who was twisted somehow in the front seat, his body contorted at an angle, his head bent forward, long dark hair covering his face. Daria was not sure he was alive.
Pete struggled with the pilot’s seat belt.
“He’s got a pulse,” he called over his shoulder to Daria and Andy.
“But I can’t get him out.
Let’s go for the passengers first. “
If they’d had a tool, even a crowbar, extricating the passengers would have been easy, since the skin of the plane was thin and pliable. But they only had their bare hands and the oars to use, and although the sea was calm, the bobbing of the plane and boats made the work difficult.
Shelly suddenly appeared at the side of the boat, and Andy was first to spot her.
“Shelly!” he said.
“What are you doing out here, crazy woman?”
“Get in the boat, hon,” Daria said to her sister.
“You’ll freeze.”
“I’m all right,” Shelly said. She was treading water, her hair flowing out from her head like pale sea grass. The water was dark, but Daria could see no skim of fuel on its surface. Shelly would be all right.
Pete barely seemed to register Shelly’s arrival, and Daria thought it was probably just as well. He picked up an oar.
“Move your head back!” he shouted to one of the women in the back seat.
“I’m going to break the window!”
The woman cowered beneath her arms, and Pete rammed the oar into the Plexiglas. It popped out in one piece, and the woman let out a scream, then started sobbing. With the window out, Daria could see that the interior of the plane was filling with water.
“We’ll go around the other side,” yelled a man in the second boat.
They rowed to the far side of the plane and broke the window there.
Pete was able to pull the woman nearest him through the window and into the boat, while the men on the other side of the plane did the same.
“This one’s hurt bad,” one of the men called out.
“And the pontoon over here is shot. The one on that side is the only thing keeping this tin can up.”
“Bring her over here,” Daria shouted. She turned at the sound of sirens. An ambulance had pulled onto the beach, lights flashing. It looked very far away.
The woman in their boat seemed more shaken up than injured.
“The pilot passed out, or something,” she said.
“We just started going down and she didn’t do anything to stop it.”
“She?” Daria asked. That’s when she took another look at the pilot, contorted beneath the seat belt. Long hair, slim body. The pilot was indeed a woman.
The second boat had pulled next to them again, barely visible now because of the darkness.
“I should get in the other boat with the injured woman,” Daria said to Pete.
“No, stay here,” Pete said.
“Help me with the pilot. The ambulance crew is on the beach now.” He called to the men in the second boat.
“You guys take these ladies in, okay?” he said.
“And bring us back a knife or something to cut this seat belt with.”
Daria was usually crew chief, usually the one giving the orders, but this was not an official call, and she didn’t balk at following Pete’s instructions. She helped Pete and Andy transfer their terrified passenger into the second boat, and as the two men and the injured women sailed away, Daria and Pete turned their attention back to the pilot.
Daria reached into the plane and pressed her fingertips against the woman’s throat, feeling for a pulse.
“Is she alive?” Shelly asked from the water.
“Yes.” The pulse was very rapid, but strong. The woman suddenly rolled her head back against the seat and her brown eyes fluttered open. It was an instant before they registered alarm.
“Stay calm,” Daria said. She was shocked to realize that the pilot was very young, no more than eighteen or nineteen, with long dark hair and a pronounced widow’s peak that only added beauty to her heart-shaped face. Like the passenger, she also had a gash across her forehead, this one bleeding profusely.
“We’ve just about got you out,” Daria said as she took off her own T-shirt and pressed it against the woman’s head. It was a lie, but a necessary one. The water was up to the woman’s waist, and Pete’s arms were submerged as he leaned over the side of the boat, struggling with her seat belt.
“The door frame’s twisted somehow,” he said under his breath to Daria.
“The belt’s caught in it. I can’t see what I’m doing.”
“I’m in the water, Pete,” Shelly said.
“Maybe I can do it from down here.”
“You’re just in the way. Shelly,” Pete snapped, and for a brief moment, Daria felt hatred toward him. This was the man she planned to marry in a few months, and at that moment, she didn’t even like him.
“She hardly looks old enough to have a pilot’s license,” Andy said.
“I don’t think we can work on her from the boat,” Daria said. She was losing her balance. Her hand holding the T-shirt kept slipping away from the woman’s forehead.
“Yeah, and we can’t extricate her this way, either,” Pete added.
“We’ll have to get in the water.”
The plane, Daria realized, was slowly sinking, seawater creeping up the pilot’s body.
“Andy,” Pete said, “you stay in the boat. Keep it close to the plane.
Keep your eyes open for any fuel leaks” too.” He unzipped his shorts, pulled them off and jumped into the water.
Daria took off her own shorts and followed him in. The water took her breath away, it was so cold. “I thought you said it wasn’t cold?”
she said to Shelly as she pulled herself closer to the plane.
“You’ll get used to it,” Shelly said, but her teeth were chattering.
“It’s going down fast,” Andy said from the boat.
“We need a knife out here, damn it,” Pete said, and he dropped under the water to try to work the pilot’s seat belt free. Daria felt the fruitlessness of his effort. He would be able to see nothing underwater in the darkness. She tried to keep pressure on the pilot’s forehead as she let her body float out from the plane to make room for Pete to work. She wondered how long the pilot could survive being immersed in the cold water. How long could any of them survive?
“Shelly, Andy,” Pete sputtered as he surfaced from the water.
“This thing’s sinking like an anchor. Y’all do what you can to keep it upright while Daria and I try to get her out.”
“Okay.” In the boat, Andy skirted the plane to reach the other side, and Shelly swam to the plane’s submerged nose to do what she could to keep it afloat. Daria glanced over her shoulder at the beach, praying someone would bring tools out to help them.
The pilot’s eyes were open now. Open wide. The young woman stared into Daria’s eyes as Daria tried to stem the bleeding from her head wound.
She dared to lift the T-shirt once, only to have blood gush down the frightened pilot’s cheek. She didn’t know how cognizant the pilot was of what was going on or of how much danger she was in. She was not uttering a word, yet her eyes were filled with fear.
“Don’t worry,” Daria said.
“We’re going to get you out. You’ll be all right.”
Pete surfaced from underwater again, tossing his wet black hair out of his face with a shake of his head. “Maybe I can get at her better from the other side,” he said.
“I already tried the door over here,” Andy called from his side of the plane.
“It won’t open.” He sounded winded. Daria glanced at her sister to see how she was faring. Shelly was treading water directly in front of the plane’s propeller, her hands submerged beneath the plane’s nose. She appeared to be going strong.
A small yelp escaped from the pilot’s lips. The water had reached her breasts, and Daria felt a flash of panic course through her own body.
What if they couldn’t get her out? It was beginning to look doubtful, and there was no way that Andy and Shelly would be able to keep the plane above water once it made up its mind to sink. Daria’s legs ached from treading water. She struggled with her free hand to loosen the shoulder harness, trying at the same time to stay out of Pete’s way.
Her foot kept catching on the damaged pontoon, and it was tempting to rest it there to give herself a break from the relentless treading, but she knew that her weight would only pull the plane farther underwater.
Pete surfaced once again, gasping for breath this time. Daria saw fear mixed with the determination in his eyes. She wanted to talk to him, try to puzzle out the best course of action, but before she could say a word, he was underwater again.
“Please help.” The pilot’s voice was barely audible, and she reached out to grab Daria’s wrist.
Daria gently extricated her arm from the woman’s hand.
“I need my hand to get you out,” she said.
The water was rising more quickly now. It had reached the pilot’s chin, and the young woman tilted her head back as though she could somehow prevent the water from climbing up her face. If only she could.
Pete came out of the water on Daria’s right this time. He looked toward the beach, where a second ambulance had arrived.
“Hey!” he shouted vainly against the sound of the sea.
“Come on! We need help out here!”
The woman grasped Daria’s wrist again, and this time Daria did not pull away. She watched in horror as the plane sank lower, pulling the pilot completely underwater, her terrified eyes still wide, staring hard at Daria.
“Oh, God,” Daria said.
“Pete! What can we do?”
Pete turned to Daria. He looked past her, though, and his face suddenly registered shock.
“Oh my God, Shelly,” he shouted.
“Move!”
Daria remembered that Shelly was near the plane’s propellers, and she spun around in terror. But Shelly was safe and sound, treading water, still trying to hold up the plane and wearing a look of confusion at Pete’s reprimand. Daria had no idea why Pete had yelled at her, but there was no time to find out. The plane was suddenly rising again.
And another boat was coming toward them, this one motorized.
“Ocean Rescue’s coming!” she said, then under her breath, “Hurry.
Hurry. “
The pilot’s head rose out of the water, her hair slicked back from her face. Her eyes were still open, but she was not breathing. Floating on her stomach, Daria struggled to breathe into the woman’s mouth as the rescue boat pulled alongside them. Pete got a knife from one of the men in the boat and, slipping beneath the surface of the water, finally freed the pilot.
“Get her into the boat!” Pete shouted, and he and Daria pulled the woman from the plane and passed her to the men in the rescue boat. The boat sped off, and Andy drew his small craft close to them again.
“Get Shelly in first,” Daria said.
“She’s been in the water the longest.”
Shelly was weak now, and Andy had to pull her into the boat.
Daria could barely climb into the boat herself. Her feet were numb and her entire body trembled from exertion and anxiety. Pete pushed her, while Andy pulled. Pete was winded and exhausted when he managed to crawl into the boat himself.
Andy rowed the boat toward shore, and the breakers caught them and carried them onto the beach. They could hear shouting and, in the distance, the whirring of a helicopter.
Too late, Daria thought. She shook with the cold, and her legs threatened to give out from under her as she climbed out of the boat.
She was dressed only in her wet underwear, and she shivered as she staggered over to the cot where the medic was working on the pilot.
The young woman was intubated, bagged and hooked up to an ECG. Daria peered over the medic’s shoulder and saw the flat line on the ECG screen. The defibrillator paddles rested in the sand, obviously no longer needed. The pilot was dead, her brown eyes still open. Fighting tears, Daria turned away, but even with her own eyes shut, she could still see the pilot’s pleading gaze.
“Sorry, Dar.” Mike, who’d arrived with the ambulances, handed her a blanket.
“We’ll take over from here. Do you need a form for your field notes?”
Paperwork. How could Mike even think of that right now?
“I’ve got one in my car,” she said. She tried to wrap the blanket around herself, but her fingers would not do what she wanted them to, and Mike had to help her.
“You’re freezing,” Mike said.
“Go get warm.” He walked back to the ambulance, and she turned away from the scene. She was dazed and dizzy. Where was Pete? Where were Shelly and Andy? Her breath was like fire moving in and out of her chest, and her throat was tight with the need to cry. She hugged the blanket tighter around her body, then spotted someone in the crowd handing Andy a stack of towels. Shelly was near him, and he passed a couple of them to her. She clutched the towels to her chest, and even with the sparse lights from the ambulances, Daria could see her violent shivering. “Do you need a towel?” A woman walked up to Daria and pressed a couple of towels into her arms.
“Thanks,” Daria mumbled. She turned around again, looking for Pete, and finally saw him several yards away, his back to her. By the way he was bending over the water, she knew he was sick. She walked toward him and put one of the towels over his shoulders. He was trembling uncontrollably and didn’t even look at her as he took another towel from her arms and wiped his mouth with it.
She felt his need to be silent, to be asked no questions or receive no words of empty comfort. She rubbed his back through the towel as he stared at the ground, his breathing ragged.
Finally, he glanced at her, his gaze darting quickly to her face before turning out to sea. In the darkness, at least, it appeared the plane had disappeared.
“Do you know what happened out there?” he asked.
She was confused by the question.
“Do you mean… I don’t understand what you’re asking.”
He looked at her directly now, and his eyes were cold.
“Do you know why I yelled at Shelly when we were out there?”
She shook her head.
“I have no idea.”
“Your sister,” he said slowly, deliberately, “was leaning on the propeller, trying to see inside the plane. That’s what pulled the plane under. That’s why the pilot is dead.”
Daria was speechless.
“But when I turned to look at her, she was just treading water. I think she was trying to buoy the plane up.”
“After I yelled at her.”
“Yes,” Daria admitted. Horrified, the weight of his words sank in.
“I
can’t believe it,” she said. Surely Shelly would have known she was making matters worse by leaning on the propeller.
“Believe it,” Pete said.
“I was this close” -he held his thumb and forefinger apart by half an inch “—to freeing that woman—that girl—when the plane went under. Shelly has no common sense.”
“Oh, my God, this is horrible.” Daria thought of the report she would have to write on the accident and the debriefing that would occur the following day. What could she say happened? It would destroy Shelly to know her role in the pilot’s death.
Pete seemed to soften at seeing Daria’s distress. He put his arm around her.
“Look,” he said, his gaze toward the sea once again, his jaw tight.
“No one else knows what happened out there. Just you and me. Shelly doesn’t have a clue what she did. I doubt Andy realized what was going on, and there’s a good chance the plane would have gone down, anyway,” he conceded with a shrug.
“And maybe the pilot would have died no matter what we did. I think we should just keep this to ourselves.”
“I have to write a report,” Daria protested. “Then write it just as you would have without my input,” Pete said.
“Pretend I didn’t tell you anything.”
“It would kill Shelly if she…”
“I know,” Pete said.
“That’s why… you should just forget about what I said.”
She nodded woodenly. She had little choice, and what difference would it make now? The pilot was gone. Nothing would bring her back.
She spotted Shelly wandering among the thinning crowd, walked over to her and put an arm around her shivering shoulders.
“Come on, hon,” she said.
“My car’s at the cottage where I was working. I’ll drive you home after I write my report.”
They walked in silence to her car. Daria spotted Pete’s truck a few cottages down the street and wondered how long he would stay at the scene. Wrapped in the blanket, she sat in the driver’s seat and pulled the notebook containing her field-note forms from the back seat. She propped the notebook against her knees and started writing. The plane simply began sinking and the rescuers had been helpless to do anything about it, she wrote. She would have to recount the same story in her verbal debriefing the following day. This was the first time she had ever lied in the course of her job as an EMT, and she wondered if anything could ever ease the sick, guilty feeling in her gut.
When she finished the report and slipped it inside the notebook, she looked down the street to see that Pete’s truck was gone. He would have had to walk right past her car to get to it, and he had not even bothered to say goodbye. She was worried about him, as worried as she was about herself.
Neither she nor Shelly said a word on the drive home. The only sound inside the car was that of Shelly’s teeth chattering.
That night, after she and Shelly had eaten a quiet dinner in the kitchen of the Sea Shanty and fallen, exhausted, into bed, Pete called. Daria pulled the phone from her nightstand onto her pillow.
“How are you doing?” Pete asked.
“Not so great,” Daria said. Everything seemed wrong. She’d lied on a report. Shelly had unknowingly made a terrible mistake, a young woman had died a horrible death before her eyes. She stared at the darkened ceiling, the phone against her ear.
“I know,” Pete said.
“That was one ugly scene.”
“Mmm.”
She heard Pete draw in a breath.
“I think we need to talk about Shelly,” he said.
She stiffened. This would not be their first discussion about Shelly, but this time she knew he had the upper hand.
“I don’t want to,” she said.
“We have to,” Pete said.
“Today was a clear indication that she needs more than you can give her, Daria. I know you don’t want to hear that, but you have to face it. Her judgment is very poor. She needs a supervised living situation. You can see that now, can’t you? Daria?”
Daria closed her eyes.
“She’s staying with me.”
Pete sighed.
“I know why you want her to be placed somewhere,” Daria said.
“If she were in some … supervised-living situation, as you call it, then I’d be free to move to Raleigh with you.” Pete had been offered an administrative position with a large construction company in Raleigh, a job he really wanted, and he’d been begging Daria to come with him.
But when she’d agreed to marry him, she never thought it would mean leaving the Outer Banks. Leaving Shelly. She could not imagine Shelly ever being able to live on her own, but this supervised-living situation Pete kept pushing was out of the question. Those last few weeks, she’d been feeling torn down the middle between her sister and the man she wanted to marry. She could not move to Raleigh without Shelly, and Shelly would never leave the Outer Banks, the only place in the world she felt secure and safe.
“Well,” Pete said, “that would be a bonus. But I’m really thinking about what’s best for Shelly.”
“So am I,” Daria said.
Pete tried again.
“So what would happen,” he said, “if I agreed to have Shelly live with us, and” — “She would never move to Raleigh.”
“I know, I know,” Pete said.
“But speaking hypothetically, let’s say I did agree to have her live with us and then you and I had children.
After this incident today, I would never be comfortable leaving Shelly alone with our kids. “
That was ridiculous, Daria thought. Shelly was no danger to anyone.
Yet after what had happened that afternoon, how could she argue with him?
“Look, Daria,” Pete said with another sigh.
“I hadn’t wanted to make this into an ultimatum, but the more I think about this, and especially after today, the more I feel the need to press the issue. I really want that job in Raleigh. And I really want to marry you. But if you won’t move to Raleigh with me—and without Shelly—well, then, I don’t see how this is going to work out.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Are you saying… you’d end our relationship over this? After nearly six years of us being together?”
“I don’t see what other option there is,” Pete said.
“The only choice you’re offering me is to live in the Sea Shanty, or at least somewhere in the Outer Banks, with you and Shelly. I want to marry you, Daria.
Not Shelly. And I need that job in Raleigh. I can’t keep up this pace, physically, forever. I want that admin job
When he put it that way, she felt unreasonable in her demands on him.
Yet, unreasonable or not, she could not do what he wanted her to. For the second time that day, her throat felt tight with unshed tears.
“I love you,” she said.
“But I can’t do what you’re asking of me.”
“Christ, Daria!” Pete suddenly exploded.
“You live your life for Shelly,” he said.
“Her needs always—always—come first. You never put my needs—you never put your own needs—ahead of hers.”
“Pete” — “It’s about time I faced that fact,” he said. She heard the anger in his voice.
“Iwish you luck, Daria,” he said.
“Good luck with the rest of your life.”
The line went dead, and it was a moment before Daria placed the receiver back in its cradle. She wondered why she didn’t feel like crying now, why she felt this odd sense of relief. She was so, so tired of arguing with Pete over Shelly.
“Daria?” Shelly opened Daria’s bedroom door a crack.
“Are you awake?”
she whispered.
“Come in,” Daria said, sitting up.
“I can’t sleep,” Shelly said. She walked into the room, dressed in a nightshirt, her hair loose around her shoulders.
“Neither can I.” Daria moved over to make room for her sister on the queen-size bed.
“Because of the pilot?” Shelly asked.
“Yes.” Among other things.
“I keep thinking about how she died,” Shelly said.
“How horrible her death was.”
“It was,” Daria agreed.
“How old was she?” Shelly asked.
“I think I heard someone say she was eighteen,” Daria said.
“Eighteen.” Shelly blinked her eyes, and in the moon180 Diane Chamberlain light, Daria saw the glossy sheen of tears in them. “Three years younger than me. It’s just not fair.”
“I know,” Daria said.
“A lot of things in life aren’t fair.”
“Iwish I could have traded places with her.” Daria felt some alarm.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t mean that I want to die,” she said quickly.
“But I just feel so sorry for her, that she got three whole years less on earth than I’ve had.”
Daria smiled and pulled her sister close to her.
“You are such a sweetheart,” she said, touched by Shelly’s reasoning. She was glad that she’d lied on her EMT report. And she would lie in her debriefing tomorrow. How could Pete ever ask her to desert her sister?
Rory put his arm around Daria’s shoulders.
“What a horrendous experience,” he said.
“I assume you never told Shelly what really happened?”
“You haven’t known Shelly very long,” Daria said, “but I’m sure you know her well enough to realize she couldn’t handle it.” She leaned her head back against the screen door and looked up at the stars.
Rory’s arm was warm and comforting against her shoulders.
“I still can’t believe I filled out that fraudulent report,” she said.
“I
lied. ” She pounded her fist onto her knee.
“I’ve never lied about anything so important, but I couldn’t drag Shelly into that mess. Pete said the pilot might have died, anyway, but I don’t know if that’s the case.”
“What a nightmare,” Rory said.
“That’s why I quit my EMT position,” she said.
“I just couldn’t face another call. I couldn’t stand to lose another victim, and I was… I still am… disgusted with myself for letting Shelly go out there and for covering up what she did. People here look up to me, and I feel like a fraud.”
“I can’t help but think you did the right thing in covering up Shelly’s role in the accident,” Rory said.
“What good would it have done to point out her mistake to the world? It only would have hurt her, and it wouldn’t have changed anything.”
“I shouldn’t have let her go out to the plane,” Daria said.
“But you thought she could help,” Rory said.
“Had she ever given you a reason to think she was capable of making that sort of error?”
“No,” she admitted.
“That’s why it was so shocking. It was so cold in the water. I keep using that as an excuse, that maybe her ability to reason was screwed up by the cold and confusion. We were all crazed. I doubt any of us were thinking straight.”
“Was that the end of things between you and Pete?” Rory asked. “Pete was so upset that he moved to Raleigh practically the next day,” she said.
“He quit being an EMT, probably for the same reason I did. I miss it so much, though.” Her voice broke again.
Neither of them spoke for a moment. The crackling rush of the waves was the only sound.
“Why did you go tonight?” Rory asked finally.
“Why did you go to the accident?” “I was hoping I would find some strength inside myself that would allow me to help. They are short-staffed. I know that. When I got there, though, and saw how serious the accident was, I just froze. I can’t handle someone else dying in my care. But I feel so selfish.”
She pounded her fist on her knee again.
“Selfish. Guilty. Ashamed.
Cowardly. “
“Shh.” Rory hugged her tighter, closer, and she leaned her head against him.
“Sorry,” she said, wiping the back of her hand across her wet cheek.
“What for?”
“Dumping on you. You’re the only person I’ve told.”
“Hey, I’m glad you could,” he said softly.
“Even though I know you told me about the accident to convince me that Shelly’s judgment is poor. But there’s a huge different between screwing up in the middle of a crisis and longing to know who your parents are. Don’t you agree?”
Daria closed her eyes. Of course he was right. “I suppose so,” she said weakly.
She felt him turn his head to look toward the beach road, and she followed his gaze with her own. Zack and Kara were walking into the cul-de-sac. They looked almost like one person, they were so close together, their arms wrapped around one another.
“They don’t see us,” Rory whispered.
Zack and Kara stopped in front of the Wheelers’ cottage, turning to face each other, locking themselves in a long, intense embrace.
“Guess I’d better go make my presence known,” Rory said. He squeezed her shoulders.
“Are you going to be okay?” he asked, standing up.
“I’m fine.” She smiled at him.
“Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime,” he said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
“That’s what friends are for.”
Daria had no nightmares that night. Instead, she dreamed that she and Rory were in Africa, riding together on the back of an elephant, crossing a golden plain so wide and flat that it looked as though it went on forever. Other people were there, riding elephants behind them. Shelly was there. Jill, from the cul-de-sac. Daria’s mother. And people she didn’t know, the line of elephants and riders streaming far behind her and Rory, curling toward the horizon. But she hadn’t been interested in the other people. She was sitting behind Rory, her arms snug around his waist. The elephant’s rhythmic walk, the bulk of his spine between her legs and the feeling of Rory’s body beneath her hands excited her, and all she could think about was arriving at their destination. There, they would find a cabana, where she and Rory would have privacy.
She awakened before the chain of elephants reached the cabanas, and groaned with disappointment at finding herself in her blue and white, sea-air-filled bedroom. Her body was still charged from her erotic, surreal ride across the plain, and she allowed herself to relive it as she lay in bed awhile longer.
Finally, the scent of seaweed and coffee had grown so strong in her room that she had to face reality and get out of bed. Downstairs, she found Chloe and Shelly already eating breakfast at the picnic table on the porch. She sat next to Shelly and busied herself pouring cereal, slicing a peach, struggling to let the dream go. She was still bursting with the physical sensations of it, and her gaze was drawn again and again across the street to Poll-Rory.
If only she could confide her feelings for Rory to her sisters and get some sisterly advice, but that was impossible. She’d always avoided speaking to Chloe about love and desire. It didn’t seem fair to talk to Chloe about that sort of thing, when Chloe, by virtue of her vow of chastity, could not experience those feelings for herself. And Shelly would make entirely too much of it. She might even say something inappropriate in front of Rory. Anyway, what advice would Shelly have to give?
Shelly was filling the porch with her chatter. She’d found a tiny, perfect starfish on the beach that morning, she said. And dozens of pieces of cobalt-blue glass.
Chloe was silent. Oddly silent. Finally, she interrupted her youngest sister.
“Shelly,” she said gently, “can you tell us why you suddenly want to know who your real mother is? You never seemed to care before, and I don’t understand why it’s suddenly so important to you.”
The change in Shelly’s features was abrupt. She looked into her bowl, dipping her spoon in and out of the milky cereal. There was a sheen of tears in her eyes that surprised Daria, and her own throat tightened as she waited for her younger sister to speak.
Shelly looked up at them.
“I always wanted to know,” she said.
“I just never said anything about it. I didn’t want to hurt Dad’s feelings.
But now that Dad is gone, I thought it was time for me to find out.
You both know who your mother and father are. I loved Mom and Dad and I’m really glad they were my parents, but I need to know more. ” A tear spilled over her lower lashes and slipped down her cheek.
Chloe leaned forward to cover Shelly’s hand with her own.
“I just don’t want you to be disappointed,” Chloe said.
“I don’t want you to get your hopes up and then have them shattered.”
“I know,” Shelly said. She wiped her nose with her napkin.
Daria’s heart ached. They had accepted Shelly’s good nature and ever-present cheer at face value. They’d never seen the pain behind that facade.
“Just know,” Chloe said to Shelly, “that no matter what you learn or what you don’t learn, we love you. Daria and I love you and adore you.
Nothing you find out will ever change that. “
Chloe looked across the table at Daria, who tried to read the message in her sister’s eyes. For the first time, she wondered if Chloe might know what she knew about what had taken place that morning long ago.
The thought sent a chill up her spine. Maybe it was time for Shelly to learn the truth, she thought. Maybe it was time for everyone to know what had happened on the beach that morning.
Ivory increased the tension on his exercise bike and glanced next to him, where Zack was pedaling furiously while reading the latest copy of Sports Illustrated. He was certain Zack had set his tension even higher than Rory’s, yet he was still pedaling faster and barely working up a sweat. Rory could probably work just as hard, he tried to convince himself, but what was the point, really? This easy pace was fine. He planned to take Daria’s advice about talking with Zack while involved in an activity, but he knew he wouldn’t have the wind for a conversation unless he kept the tension low.
He was getting a little annoyed with himself about this new competitive streak he felt with Zack. He hoped that, at the age of thirty-six, he was not already slipping into a mid life crisis.
“Can you get your nose out of that magazine long enough to talk?” Rory asked.
Zack glanced over at him.
“I’m working out,” he said.
“But you’ll only know you’re at the proper level of exertion if you can carry on a conversation,” Rory said.
“That’s an old theory, Dad,” Zack said.
It was?
“Nevertheless,” Rory countered, “I’d like to talk with you about Kara.”
“What about her?” Zack shot him a wary look, and with good reason, Rory thought.
“Well, not about Kara specifically. But about you and Kara together. You and any girl.” He was stumbling a bit on this.
Zack rolled his eyes. “Is this some kind of sex talk?” he asked.
Rory remembered when Zack was seven or eight and wanted to know how babies were created. He’d embraced the opportunity to talk with his son on the subject, and he’d been good at it, too, if he did say so himself. But that had been a piece of cake compared to this.
“Well, I just think it’s time we had a man-to-man talk,” Rory said.
“I have a feeling this isn’t going to be man-to-man,” Zack said. He was standing up on the pedals, pumping hard.
“More like man-to-boy.”
“Well, enough of the preamble,” Rory said.
“I’m just concerned that you and Kara are getting a little too… close. I have nothing against her. I like her.” Rory still didn’t know her well enough to know if he liked her or not. Kara was a closed book, as far as he could tell.
“I
just wanted to. talk with you a bit about it. I mean, I was your age once, and I know the temptation to go too far. “
“You were fifteen in the Middle Ages,” Zack said.
“Things are different now.”
“Oh, they’re not as different as you think. Testosterone hasn’t changed. What it can do to good judgment hasn’t changed.”
“Why don’t you just say it and get it over with?” Zack asked.
“Don’t have sex. That’s what you’re getting at. I hear you. You’ve done the counseling thing. Thanks for the talk.” He was speaking loudly. A young woman on the bike next to his glanced in their direction before’re turning her attention to the book she was reading.
“No, that’s not all I want to say,” Rory lowered his voice. It certainly was his major point, but he knew it was not enough. Like spitting in the wind. He had indeed been fifteen once.
“I just want to be sure that if you do endj up… having sex, that you use protection.” “I know all about that. Dad.”
“Well, you can know all about it, and still not use it,” Rory argued. “Think about Shelly. She was an unwanted baby, left to die on the beach. Her mother was probably a kid Kara’s age. If that boy had used protection, that girl wouldn’t have gotten pregnant, and the baby wouldn’t have been abandoned.”
“So, you want me and Kara to break up.”
Rory frowned.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying at all.” It took him a moment to realize that Zack was being intentionally obtuse.
“I think you know what I’m saying,” he said. “You and Grace are probably doing it every time I leave the cottage,” Zack provoked him.
“For your information. Grace and I have barely held hands,” he said, as though that noble restraint was his choice.
“And besides. Grace and I are adults.”
“What does that have to do with it?” Zack asked.
“You know the answer to that,” Rory said.
Zack stopped pedaling. He lifted the towel from his neck and mopped his face with it.
“Look, Dad. You dragged me to stupid North Carolina and I’m just trying to make the best of it, okay?” He got off the bike. “I’m going over to the cardio-kick boxing class. I can walk home. You don’t have to wait for me.”
Rory watched him walk away. Cardio-kick boxing Zack had gone to the one place in the gym where Rory could never hope to follow him. And he certainly knew it.
After leaving the gym, Rory drove to the cul-de-sac and parked his car in Poll-Rory’s driveway, but didn’t go inside. Linda’s big female golden retriever, Melissa, was waiting for him on his front steps, and he decided to take that as a sign. It was time he picked Linda’s brain about the summer of ‘77.
He walked down the cul-de-sac to the cottage nearest the beach road, Melissa at his side. The dog ran up the porch steps ahead of him, and Rory knocked on the screen door, instantly setting off a cacophony of barking from inside the cottage.
In a moment, a woman with chin-length red hair came to the door. A mass of gold fur swirled around her legs. Four dogs, at least. The woman looked at him just for a second before breaking into a smile.
“Hello, Rory Taylor,” she said.
“Hi.-Jackie, is it?”
“That’s right.” She opened the door just enough to reach out and shake his hand, then glanced down at Melissa, who hadn’t budged from his side.
“I heard Melissa’s become your little groupie,” she said.
“She’s our escape artist, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve been enjoying her company,” he said, scratching the top of Melissa’s head.
“Are you looking for Linda?” Jackie asked.
“If she’s not busy.”
“She’s been expecting you to stop by. I guess you’ve been talking to people who were here back when Shelly Cato was found, huh?”
“I’ll talk to anybody who’s willing to talk to me,” he said.
“Stay there a second.” Jackie disappeared inside the cottage, and in a moment Linda came onto the porch, three bottles of beer clasped between her hands and four dogs at her heels.
“Hey, Rory!” She offered him a broad, white grin.
“Let’s go up on the deck.”
He was momentarily taken aback by the sheer force of her reception, although her greeting the day he’d met her on the beach had been equally as exuberant. The quiet, painfully shy girl from years ago no longer appeared to | exist.
He followed Jackie and Linda and their large, blond retrievers up the winding wooden stairway to the small deck. Linda handed him one of the beers and motioned for him to sit on the lounge chair. The dogs sniffed and wagged around him, and Melissa rested her head on his thigh. | “So.” Linda leaned forward, elbows on knees, the beer | in her right hand.
“You’re trying to find out who deserted Shelly on the beach.”
“That’s right,” Rory said.
“I know it was a long time ago, but I thought I would see what you remembered.”
“I’ve tried to forget those years, actually,” Linda said, still smiling.
“They were kind of rough for me.”
He nodded his understanding. He had gay friends and knew that in many cases, their adolescent years had not been easy.
“Well, you seem great now,” he said.
“What kind of work are you doing?”
“Besides raising too many dogs? Teaching. Jackie and I both teach at Duke.”
“I’m math,” Jackie said.
“Linda’s literature.”
Rory grimaced at the combination.
“And you two get along?” he asked.
“Most of the time.” Linda laughed.
“So,” Jackie said, crossing one leg over the other, “tell me what Linda was like when she was a kid.”
Linda laughed again.
“We’re not talking about me, Jack. We’re talking about all those rowdy kids who used to live on the cul-de-sac.”
“Rowdy?” Rory asked.
“I didn’t think they were anything unusual.”
“That’s because you were one of them,” Linda said.
“I was sitting on the sidelines, watching the world go by.”
“Then you’re probably a good one to talk to,” Rory said.
“Maybe you can be more objective then anyone else.”
“I bet it was no one we knew,” Linda said.
“I mean, I can certainly come up with some ideas for who it might have been, but the truth is, it was summertime and Kill Devil Hills was hoppin’.
It could easily have been someone just down for the week. Or even the day. “
“That’s true,” Rory said.
“But I’m going to focus on the cul-de-sac for now. I’ll branch out from there.”
“Well, there was always Cindy Trump.” Linda turned to Jackie.
“They called her Cindy Tramp.”
“Ah,” Jackie said.
“She was unbelievable, wasn’t she?” Linda asked Rory.
“Honest to God.
Those boobs. I remember she got them when she was, like, ten, or something. And she wore this bathing suit, this one-piece—she couldn’t have been more than twelve—and when it got wet, it became sort of see-through. You could see her pubic hair through it, which really blew me away back then, ‘cause I was only about nine and barely knew what I was looking at. You could see her nipples and everything.
“
Rory had to laugh. He could feel the heat of the memory on the back of his neck.
“I’d forgotten about that bathing suit, although I can picture it now that you mention it. It was pink, right?”
“Lavender, I think. Close enough.”
“And I remember the bathing suits she wore later on.”
“God, yes.” Linda groaned, and he knew that she’d had the same visceral reaction to Cindy and her voluptuous body that he’d had.
“She’d wear these crocheted bikinis,” Linda said to Jackie.
“She was always real tan and she’d go prancing around on the beach leaving males lusting in her wake. And there I was, drooling from behind my book.”
“I never knew, Linda,” Rory said, shaking his head. “Never knew that you and I had so much in common back then.”
Linda laughed.
“Chloe was pretty hot back then, too,” Linda said.
“She was… sultry, with that long thick hair and those eyelashes.” “Sister Chloe?” Jackie asked.
“Oh, yes,” Linda said.
“Chloe and her cousin, Ellen. You know Ellen, who comes down every once in a while with her husband? The heavyset woman?”
Jackie nodded.
“Yes, Chloe was hot,” Rory agreed, “but she was always skinny as a rail. Except for….” He let his voice trail off. It felt odd to discuss Chloe’s body with women, and odder still to discuss the body of a nun.
“I know what you mean.” Linda finished the thought for him with a chuckle.
“Well, it sounds to me,” Jackie said, “that it couldn’t have been this Cindy Tramp person if she was always parading around in a bikini. How would she hide her pregnancy?”
“But that’s the thing,” Linda said.
“Daria found Shelly right at the beginning of the summer, and the week before had been totally shitty weather. So nobody was parading around in any kind of bathing suit. We were all bundled up that week.” Suddenly, she leaned toward Rory, a serious expression on her face.
“Rory,” she said, “I’m afraid to tell you who I really think Shelly’s mother was.”
He frowned.
“Why?” he asked.
“Who?”
“I always thought it was Polly.” There was an apology in her voice.
“Who was Polly?” Jackie asked.
Rory sat back in his chair, sinking his fingers into the fur on Melissa’s neck.
“My sister,” he said. Then to Linda, “Why would you think that?”
“It just seemed logical to me,” Linda said.
“I mean, hadn’t you ever considered it?”
“No,” he said vehemently, “not at all.” He looked at Jackie.
“My sister had Down’s syndrome.”
“And that’s just it,” Linda said.
“It would have been easy for someone to take advantage of Polly, and if she’d gotten pregnant, she might not have had any idea what was happening to her body. She might not have known any better than to try to get rid of the baby.”
Rory smiled tolerantly. “Even Polly would have known how cruel and inhumane that would be,” he said. It disturbed him that Linda would think otherwise.
“Well,” Linda said, sitting back in her chair.
“I can assure you it wasn’t me. And if it wasn’t Polly, and if it was someone on the cul-de-sac, then you’d better try to track down Cindy Trump.”
-Lrom the livingroom window in her small apartment above the garage.
Grace could see her house. It was after ten in the morning; surely Eddie had gone to the cafe by now. She was avoiding her husband to the best of her ability. She had to see him when she went into work, of course, but even there, she limited conversation to those words that had to be said to keep the cafe and shop running smoothly.
She descended the outside apartment stairs and entered the house by the back door. Since moving above the ga rage, she only went into the house when she knew Eddie wouldn’t be there, and the house always seemed too still and empty to her. Quiet as a tomb. Today, she had only one quick task to do there, and then she would head up to Kill Devil Hills.
She went upstairs and opened the door to the room she had been avoiding for months. Pamela’s room. It gave her a jolt to see the bare mattress on the bed, the walls stripped of posters and photographs.
Eddie must have cleaned out the room, and it angered her that he had not asked her permission. Had he cleaned out her closet, too?
She walked quickly across the room to the closet and slid open one of the doors. Pamela’s clothes were indeed gone, but there were a few boxes of items left on the closet shelf, along with the large glass jar containing the shell collection. Grace reached up to pull the jar into her arms.
Its lid was dusty, and she cleaned it off with a swipe of her hand as she walked out into the hallway. Shutting the door behind her, she realized she’d been holding her breath, and she stood still for a moment, trying to breathe normally again.
She was downstairs in the living room, nearly to the front door, when she was startled by the deep, very familiar voice of her husband.
“What are you doing with Pam’s shell collection?” Eddie asked.
She nearly dropped the jar as she turned to face him.
“How come you’re not at work?” she asked.
“Sally opened for me,” Eddie said, referring to one of the waitresses.
“And I think I’m going to have to hire someone else, too. You’ve been… not too reliable recently.”
“I know,” she said.
“I’m sorry.” “Where have you been lately, Grace?” he asked. “Why haven’t you been at the cafe? I don’t mind doing most of the work, but it would help if you could at least let me know when you’re going to be there.”
“I had a number of doctors’ appointments,” Grace lied, and immediately regretted it. A look of worry crossed Eddie’s face as he took a step closer to her, but he seemed to know better than to touch her.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently, and her heart betrayed her by filling with love for him. He looked very tired. New gray streaks marbled his dark hair, and there were bags beneath his blue eyes. These past few months had been rough for him, too.
“I’m fine,” she said, trying to shake off the feelings of warmth for him.
“I’ll be back at the cafe later this afternoon.” With that, she clutched the jar closer to her chest and left the house, wondering if he’d noticed she was wearing the short seersucker robe she always wore over her bathing suit. She hardly looked as though she was on her way to a doctor’s appointment.
She found Rory on the beach by the cul-de-sac.
“Hi!” he said when she set her beach chair in the sand next to his.
He looked pleased to see her, and that pleasure tugged at her guilt.
She was not being very kind to the men in her life.
“Hello.” She took off her robe, sat down and pulled a tube of sunscreen from her beach bag. “How are you?”
“Better, now.” Rory said.
“I didn’t expect to see you today.” “Well, I had some time before I have to go in to work, so I thought I’d come up here for a while.”
“Here.” He leaned over to reach for the sunscreen.
“Let me put that on your back for you.”
She held the tube away from him.
“I can do it,” she said. She squeezed some of the lotion onto her hand and tried to transfer it to her back.
Rory laughed at her contortions.
“Come on, don’t be shy.” He reached for the tube again, and this time she handed it to him. She leaned forward in her chair as he massaged the lotion into her back and shoulders.
This is a mistake, she thought. How should she handle things with Rory? She didn’t want to lead him on, yet she knew of no other way to be able to spend time so close to Shelly. She knew she was giving him the wrong impression. He thought she was repeatedly driving round trip between Rodanthe and Kill Devil Hills just to see him.
She was relieved when he stopped rubbing her shoulders and was no longer touching her. She was not unaware of his attractiveness, but no man—not Rory, not her husband—could pique her interest these days.
“Thanks,” she said, leaning back in her chair.
She chatted with him about the weather and a little about some attempted conversation he’d had the day before with Zack. Something about sex; she didn’t want to get into that. She hoped he would mention Shelly, trying to wait an appropriate amount of time before delving into her favorite topic herself. Her gaze was on those people walking along the beach, hoping to see the tall, young, blond woman who was capturing her heart.
When a few minutes of silence had passed between them and it was apparent he was not going to mention Shelly, she could stand it no longer.
“Oh, before I forget,” she said, forcing her voice to sound casual, “I have something for Shelly in my car.”
“She’s at work today,” Rory said.
“But I can give it to her, if you like.”
“At work? You mean at the church?” Her heart sank at the realization that she had come all the way down here and Shelly was not even at the Sea Shanty.
“Right. St. Esther’s.” Rory shaded his eyes to look at her.
“What do you have for her?”
“Oh, just an old jar of shells. It’s been collecting dust at my house for ages, and I thought she might be able to put it to good use.”
“I’m sure she will,” Rory said.
“Don’t forget to leave it with me before you go.”
“I might as well drop it off at St. Esther’s myself,” Grace said.
“I
have to go right past there on my way home. “
Now that she knew Shelly was not around, she was anxious to get back on the road. But it would look odd to leave this soon, and besides, Rory still wanted to talk.
“I spoke with one of the neighbors today,” he said.
“A woman who was here when Shelly was found. She was one of those kids who was very shy and quiet and faded into the woodwork, but I think it made her a keen observer of everything that was going on around her.”
“And… so, what did she observe?” Grace held her breath, waiting for his answer.
“Oh, she’s really playing a guessing game about who might have left Shelly on the beach. Same as everyone else. Only…” His voice trailed off.
“Only what?” “She said she always thought it was my sister. My sister, Polly. She had Down’s syndrome and was fifteen at the time Shelly was found. I think Linda’s out of her mind, of course, but… the thought is still grating on me.” “Is there any chance she could be right?” Grace asked.
“No, no way.” Rory shuddered.
“At least I hope there was no way.
Surely my mother would have known. But then. I’m starting to think crazy things. Like what if it had been Polly? And what if my mother knew and kept quiet about it to protect her? My mother was very protective of Polly, and I don’t think that would’ve been totally out of the question. “
Grace felt sorry for him. He was torturing himself with this, and she wanted to rescue him.
“Yes, but if it had been Polly, don’t you think you would have known something was going on with her? You lived in the same house.”
“You’re right,” he said.
“It’s just that Linda planted that seed in my mind and it’s been eating away at me ever since.”
Grace looked down at her pale legs.
“Well, as usual, I’m starting to bum,” she said, although her legs looked just as white as they had when she arrived.
“I’d better head back to Rodanthe.”
“We can go in the cottage for a while,” Rory suggested.
“Or we can go somewhere for a drink or a cup of coffee.”
She turned away from the hope in his eyes.
“No, I can’t,
really. I Ji^t came down here for a little break, but I’d better get back to work. “
Rory stood up and folded her chair for her. “You must love driving,” he said, alluding to all the time she was spending in the car for a mere half hour on the beach. Especially when she had a beach a few blocks from her own home. He had to think she was either madly in love with him. or simply mad.
“I don’t mind,” she said.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to give your shells to Shelly for you?” Rory asked.
“No,” she said.
“If I leave now, I’ll have time to stop at the church.”
Grace had never been to St. Esther’s and was not certain if she should go into the church itself or the small building beside it. She opted for the building, and once inside, found herself in a wide, woodsy-smelling corridor. A man stepped into the hallway from one of the offices and walked toward her.
“Hello,” he said. He was dressed in a short-sleeved, blue plaid shirt and khaki pants, and he was sandy-haired and handsome. He eyed the jar of shells in her arms, then looked at her quizzically.
“I’m looking for Shelly Cato,” she said.
He motioned toward one of the wooden benches against the wall.
“Have a seat,” he said.
“I’m Father Macy. I’ll find her for you. I think she’s working in Father Wayne’s office right now.”
“Thank you.” Grace took a seat, the heavy jar on her lap, and watched the priest walk down the hall and disappear into one of the rooms.
In a moment, Shelly stepped into the hallway from the same room. She smiled as she walked toward Grace, a small look of confusion on her face.
“Hi, Grace,” she said.
Grace stood up. Her heart did a dance in her chest, as it had every time she laid eyes on this young woman.
“Rory said you were here, so I hope you don’t mind that I stopped by,” she said. She held out the jar in front of her.
“I have this collection of shells that’s been lying around my house forever, and I thought, rather than throwing them out, I’d see if you might be able to use any of them.”
“Thanks.” Shelly took the jar from her arms. She tilted her head to discern what might be behind the glass.
“There’s probably some in here I can use,” she said.
Grace did not want to leave, but there seemed to be little else to say. Her throat began to tighten and ache.
“Okay, then,” she said.
“I’ll probably see you in the cul-de-sac next time I come up to see Rory.”
“Okay,” Shelly said.
“Bye.”
“Bye.” Grace turned to leave, but Shelly stopped her.
“Grace?” she asked.
“Are you and Rory just friends?”
“Oh. Yes, Shelly. We’re just friends.”
Shelly’s smile broadened.
“Good,” she said.
“Thanks for the shells.”
Back in her car, Grace had to force herself to drive out of the church parking lot and away from Shelly. She was going to have to be very careful. Her heart was going to give her away if she didn’t keep her emotions in check. She had not expected things to play out this way when she’d first gone to Kill Devil Hills. She’d only wanted to find out how much Rory had learned about the discovery of the newborn. She had not known then that the baby had lived.
Poor Rory was so far off the mark with his investigation. She was torn between being glad of that fact and wishing he knew about the nurse.
Why had no one seen the nurse? She would love to have a word or two with that woman, although she wasn’t at all certain she could control her actions if she were ever to find her. She almost felt sorry for Rory that he was barking so tenaciously up the wrong tree, but she would never help him. As a matter of fact, she would have to do all she could to lead him astray.
JVLy calves are killing me,” Kara said as she huffed up Jockey’s Ridge next to Daria.
Kara was a beautiful whiner. She was one of the prettiest girls Daria had ever seen, but she hadn’t stopped complaining since she and Daria had turned onto the beach road from the cul-de-sac. She’d studied her French manicure in the car and seemed quite shy; if a complaint didn’t come out her mouth, nothing else did, either, despite Daria’s attempts to get her talking.
Rory and Zack had invited them to watch their hang-gliding lesson, and although Daria figured her invitation came as a result of Grace being unavailable, she accepted it readily. It was a Thursday, which meant she’d had to take off early from work, leaving Andy to finish a project in one of the older homes in Southern Shores, but he had encouraged her to go.
It had been a while since she’d climbed the dunes at Jockey’s Ridge.
The last time had been a couple of years ago, when she’d come with Shelly and Chloe to watch the competition in which Sean Macy had prevailed. Strange how when you lived somewhere, you tended to take for granted the area’s most interesting and easily available at tractions.
“There they are.” Kara pointed to a group of people surrounding a single hang glider at the crest of the dune.
Daria could pick out Rory and Zack, who stood side by side, their backs to her and Kara. They both shared that unmistakable broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped build.
“Let’s get a little closer and sit down,” she said.
They hiked higher, Kara complaining with every step about the hot sand burning her feet. Daria had advised her to wear shoes, but the warning had fallen on deaf ears.
They sat down near the group. Rory spotted them and waved, and Daria thought he was probably a bit nervous. She’d taken a lesson herself, years ago, but once had been enough. For all her athletic strength and usual fearlessness, she preferred to remain earthbound whenever she could.
It was fun, watching the class. Each student took several turns running down the side of the dune, the hang glider heavy on their backs until the air lifted them into a steady glide above the sand.
Some students managed longer nights than others, some went fairly high while others stayed close to the ground, and a few never made it off the dune at all, the nose of the glider catching in the sand before they’d even had a chance to take off.
Rory’s first flight was low, but the second took him high above the two instructors, who ran down the dunes beneath him.
“Go, Dad!” Zack yelled, his hands cupped to his mouth.
“Whoohoo!”
Daria had to smile. For once, Zack didn’t seem to think his father was such a loser. Indeed, Rory’s body was in perfect alignment with the glider, and his flight was as smooth as satin. He was a quick learner.
Kara’s gaze was fastened on Zack, though, not Rory, and she wore a perpetual smile on her lips. She was clearly enamored of him, and Daria could not blame her. Zack looked just like his father did at fifteen, with his tan, athletic body. He had Rory’s green eyes and sun-streaked hair, covered right now by a helmet. She’d thought she was in love with Rory when he was Zack’s age; she knew she was in love with him now. She’d seen many people fly hang gliders before, but this was the first time she’d been mesmerized by the pilot rather than the flight.
Okay, she thought, so at least you have him for a friend. She could talk easily to him, and he certainly was open | with her, although she wished he would spare her his feel-j ings about Grace. He was the first man she’d ever met who truly understood and respected the commitment she felt to Shelly. He was perhaps misguided and single minded in his pursuit of Shelly’s background, but at least he was being honest with Daria about it.
More honest than she was being with him.
1 he day was particularly hot, the sun dazzling on the glassy waves of the ocean, and Shelly reveled in the feeling of the cool salt spray against her skin as she walked along the beach. She had a destination;
she usually did, although Daria and Chloe and most everyone else thought her walks were aimless and without purpose. They didn’t really know her. They thought she was one person, but she was actually another.
Although she was anxious to get where she was going, the young couple and their baby sitting on a blanket near the water were an irresistible lure. Shelly stopped next to their blanket and got down on her knees in the sand near the baby.
“She’s adorable,” Shelly said, studying the baby’s blond ringlets.
“She is a girl, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” the young woman said.
“Her name is Anna.”
“How old is she?” Shelly asked. The baby was banging a plastic shovel against a pail, and Shelly picked up a small plastic rake to help her in the game.
“Thirteen months,” said the mother. The father said nothing. His gaze shifted from Shelly, out to sea, and back to Shelly again. A lot of men were shy like that when it came to talking about their children.
“Hi, Anna.” Shelly ran her hand gently over the baby’s fine blond curls.
“My name’s Shelly.” She glanced up at the green and white umbrella above the blanket, then looked at the mother.
“It’s good you have this big umbrella for her, because her skin is very fair,” she said.
“Yes, it is.”
Shelly looked at the baby’s perfect little hands and feet.
“Did you worry when she was born that she wouldn’t have all her fingers and toes?” she asked.
“I know moms worry about that.”
“Yes,” the mother said.
“But we were very lucky. She was perfect.”
She touched one of the baby’s toes, and leaned close to the little girl.
“This little piggy went to market,” she said. Then she looked at the mother again.
“How long did it take you to have her? I know sometimes it can take a really long time.”
“Oh, not that long.” The woman glanced at her husband, who continued to sit in silence.
“Were you scared?”
“Scared?” the mother asked.
“About the pain, I mean,” Shelly explained.
“I think I’d be scared.”
“A little,” the woman said.
“Do you nurse her?” Shelly asked.
“I… at first.” The woman glanced at her husband again, as if he might know the answer to these questions.
“How old was she when you stopped nursing her?” Shelly asked.
“I think we’d better get back to the house.” The young man suddenly spoke to his wife.
“Good idea.” There was a look of relief on the wife’s face, and Shelly realized their abrupt departure was to get away from her. She had asked too many questions. Too many personal questions. It was a bad habit of hers.
“No, no.” She jumped to her feet.
“It’s still a beautiful day. Still early. I think you all should stay here, but should go.” The man and woman stared up at her, not saving a word, no doubt surprised by her sudden exit.p>
“Bye, now.”
Shelly waved.
“Bye-bye, Anna.” She walked away from them quickly, a bit embarrassed over her behavior. She’d made them nervous. They probably thought she was a crazy child abuser. They had it so wrong.
She could never harm a child, especially not a baby as beautiful as Anna.
She felt again that aching inside her, that longing that had been with her for quite a while now. How she wanted a baby of her own! And with any luck, she would have one soon: her period was late.
Jxory sat on his front porch, waiting for Grace. They were :
going to an early movie, then out to dinner. He’d suggested he come down to Rodanthe for this outing, but as he might have predicted, she said she would prefer to drive up to Kill Devil Hills. He finally asked her why she never wanted him to come to Rodanthe, and she sounded surprised by the question.
“I don’t have anything against you coming down here,” she said.
“It’s just that I love to get out. And I know you’d rather not be that far from Zack.”
He’d spent the last couple of hours on the Internet, trying to find information on those two young women who’d disappeared from North Carolina and Virginia twenty-two years ago. He tracked down some old newspaper articles, but they didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.
“Hi, Rory!”
He looked next door to see Jill walking toward her car. He waved, and Jill changed direction, heading toward him. She climbed the steps to his porch and sat down.
“I heard you and Zack had a great time on the dunes,” she said, slipping her sunglasses onto her head, where her thick, silver hair held them snugly in place.
“Yeah, we did.” The afternoon had been, for want of a better term, a bonding experience. No doubt about it. Of course, there had been no time for heavy conversation, which had made life easier for Zack.
Instead, there had been shared concentration on the task at hand and
the plea Summer Child 209
sure of reliving every moment of the class afterward. “We mioht even do it again,” he said to Jill. “My son was on the phone to his dad last night, begging him to take him hang gliding,” Jill said.
“See what you started?”
Rory smiled, pleased. He’d finally done something right.
“So when are you going to talk to me about what I think happened the morning Shelly was born?” Jill asked.
“How about now?” he said.
“I’m waiting for a friend, but we can talk until she shows up.”
“Well, I don’t know that I can add anything new to what you’ve already heard,” Jill said.
“I’ve always felt sure that Shelly was Cindy’s baby. I think the only reason we don’t know that for certain was that the police didn’t have enough evidence to examine her. But I remembered seeing her a couple of days before Shelly was born and she was wearing a loose shirt over her shorts. That wasn’t her style of dress, in case you don’t remember.”
“I remember,” Rory said.
“But” -this had been gnawing at him “—Cindy spent a lot of summers down here after Shelly was born. Don’t you think it would have come out somehow? Wouldn’t she have shown some special interest in her?”
“But she did,” Jill said.
“She always wanted to babysit for Shelly. Of course, she baby-sat for a lot of kids in the neighborhood—I think so she could have boys over, frankly. My brother was one of those boys.
Do you remember Brian? He was pretty wild. “
“Your twin, right?” Brian had slept with Cindy?
“Uh-huh. He slept with her the summer before Shelly was born, and he slept with her that summer, too. I never understood how he could do that, since everyone was so sure Cindy was Shelly’s mother. But his hormones were stronger than his common sense, I guess.”
“I had no idea Brian was seeing Cindy,” Rory said, IVory sat on his front porch, waiting for Grace. They were going to an early movie, then out to dinner. He’d suggested he come down to Rodanthe for this outing, but as he might have predicted, she said she would prefer to drive up to Kill Devil Hills. He finally asked her why she never wanted him to come to Rodanthe, and she sounded surprised by the question.
“I don’t have anything against you coming down here,” she said.
“It’s just that I love to get out. And I know you’d rather not be that far from Zack.”
He’d spent the last couple of hours on the Internet, trying to find information on those two young women who’d disappeared from North Carolina and Virginia twenty-two years ago. He tracked down some old newspaper articles, but they didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.
“Hi, Rory!”
He looked next door to see Jill walking toward her car. He waved, and Jill changed direction, heading toward him. She climbed the steps to his porch and sat down.
“I heard you and Zack had a great time on the dunes,” she said, slipping her sunglasses onto her head, where her thick, silver hair held them snugly in place.
“Yeah, we did.” The afternoon had been, for want of a better term, a bonding experience. No doubt about it. Of course, there had been no time for heavy conversation, which had made life easier for Zack.
Instead, there had been shared concentration on the task at hand and
the plea Summer Child 209
sure of reliving every moment of the class afterward. “We mi^ht even do it again,” he said to Jill. “My son was on the phone to his dad last night, begging him to take him hang gliding,” Jill said.
“See what you started?”
Rory smiled, pleased. He’d finally done something right.
“So when are you going to talk to me about what I think happened the morning Shelly was born?” Jill asked.
“How about now?” he said.
“I’m waiting for a friend, but we can talk until she shows up.”
“Well, I don’t know that I can add anything new to what you’ve already heard,” Jill said.
“I’ve always felt sure that Shelly was Cindy’s baby. I think the only reason we don’t know that for certain was that the police didn’t have enough evidence to examine her. But I remembered seeing her a couple of days before Shelly was born and she was wearing a loose shirt over her shorts. That wasn’t her style of dress, in case you don’t remember.”
“I remember,” Rory said.
“But” -this had been gnawing at him “—Cindy spent a lot of summers down here after Shelly was born. Don’t you think it would have come out somehow? Wouldn’t she have shown some special interest in her?”
“But she did,” Jill said.
“She always wanted to babysit for Shelly. Of course, she baby-sat for a lot of kids in the neighborhood—I think so she could have boys over, frankly. My brother was one of those boys.
Do you remember Brian? He was pretty wild. ”” Your twin, right? ” Brian had slept with Cindy?
“Uh-huh. He slept with her the summer before Shelly was born, and he slept with her that summer, too. I never understood how he could do that, since everyone was so sure Cindy was Shelly’s mother. But his hormones were stronger than his common sense, I guess.”
“I had no idea Brian was seeing Cindy,” Rory said,
trying to think back. He could barely remember what Brian looked like.
“Well, I don’t think what he was doing with her would be described as ‘seeing her.” He was. well, screwing her. ” Jill shrugged.
“That’s about it. You were a few years younger than us, so what was going on probably went right over your head.”
“True,” he said.
“I was only fourteen the summer Daria found Shelly.”
He saw Grace’s car turn into the cul-de-sac, and Jill followed his gaze.
“Your friend is here,” she said, standing up.
Rory was still thinking about Brian and Cindy. “Excuse the rudeness in this question,” he said, “but if Brian slept with Cindy, is there any chance he was the baby’s father?”
“I don’t think so,” Jill said.
“I thought about that myself. But it would have meant that he’d been with Cindy nine months before Shelly was born. That would have been September, which was possible, but unlikely. Besides, Shelly doesn’t look a thing like anyone in our family.”
Grace had pulled her car to the side of the cul-de-sac in front of Poll-Rory. Rory walked with Jill down the front steps to greet her.
“So what is Brian up to these days?” he asked.
Jill laughed.
“He’s a juvenile-court judge,” she said.
“Is that ironic, or what? He’s got three teenage girls, and he’s the strictest parent I know.”
Grace got out of her car, and Rory introduced the two women, then he and Grace went back to his porch, where he had the newspaper with the movie listings. They were about to sit down to peruse them, when Grace pointed toward the beach.
“There’s Shelly,” she said.
Rory turned to see Shelly walking through the sea oats a little east of his cottage, coming up from the beach toward the cul-de-sac. He’d seen her set out for the beach many hours ago, just after lunch. Was this a different walk, or had she actually been out on the beach, walking, all afternoon?
Shelly smiled when she saw them.
“Hi, Rory,” she said.
“Hi, Grace.”
She was wearing a pale blue, one-piece bathing suit, cut high on her legs, the ever-present sack of shells strung loosely around her waist.
“Did you have a good walk?” Grace asked her.
“It’s always good,” Shelly said. She stopped near them.
“I talked to Zack, Rory,” she said.
“I think it’s so cool that you took him hang gliding.”
“It was great,” Rory said.
“We’re going to a movie,” Grace said.
“Would you like to go with us?”
Rory was surprised by the invitation. He wouldn’t mind having Shelly accompany them, but he never would have thought to invite her himself.
This was supposed to be a date. At least, it was a date in his mind.
Perhaps it was not in Grace’s. The thing that irked him the most, though, was that if it had been Zack standing there, talking to them, Grace almost certainly wouldn’t have invited him.
“Oh, no thanks,” Shelly said.
“I’m working on a necklace for Jackie.
Only it’s a surprise from Linda, so don’t say anything. “
“Oh, we won’t,” Grace reassured her. He did not think Grace even knew who Jackie was.
Rory looked at his watch.
“We’d better get going, Grace,” he said.
They said goodbye to Shelly, quickly scanned the movie listings and got into his car. Grace looked across the street at the Sea Shanty, where Shelly was sitting on the front steps, dusting the sand from her feet before going inside.
“She’s so beautiful,” Grace said.
“She could be a model.”
Rory backed the car into the cul-de-sac, then headed toward the beach road.
“I’ve thought the same thing about you,” he said, knowing it would be the first truly personal thing he had said to her.
“What do you mean?” Grace asked.
“That you could be a model. The way you… carry yourself. The way you walk. Not to mention that you’re beautiful.”
He thought he detected some color in Grace’s cheeks.
“No one’s told me that in quite a while,” Grace said.
“Well, it’s the truth.” He was glad he had said it. It seemed like something she needed to hear. Maybe she’d been so reticent in this relationship because she was taking her cue from him. Maybe she was wondering when he was ever going to make a move.
In the theater, he was keenly aware of her presence in the seat next to him. She seemed to contain herself carefully in her chair, however, so that their arms did not touch, and she allowed him to have the armrest between their seats. Halfway through the movie, he dared to take her hand, and she allowed it. Her fingers were cold, and he tried to warm them with his own. The movie was a comedy, light head-candy, but Grace only laughed a couple of times during the entire hour and a half, and Rory thought their taste in comedy was not quite in sync.
“Did you enjoy that?” he asked when they were back in the car.
“Very much,” Grace said, although she hadn’t seemed to. She smiled, though, and her face was so beautiful in the lights from the parking lot that he wanted to kiss her. Now.
He leaned across the console, rested one hand against her cheek and kissed her lightly. She smiled uncertainly, then turned her head before he could kiss her again.
He drew away.
“I think we need to talk,” he said.
She looked down at her lap.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“You don’t need to be sorry,” Rory said.
“But I do need to understand why you pull away when I try to get close.”
She looked out the window, drawing in a long breath.
“I’m … not ready,” she said.
“It’s just that I haven’t been out of my marriage all that long. I’m confused about my feelings these days.” She looked at him.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated.
“It’s understandable,” Rory said, although he felt the disappointment down to his toes.
“I’d rather you be honest about your feelings than try to pretend that everything’s okay.” He remembered how he’d felt when Glorianne first left him. “Are you hoping to get back together with your husband?” he asked.
“No,” she said firmly.
“That’s over.”
“What happened?” He tried to sound sympathetic rather than curious.
She bit her lip.
“Can’t talk about it,” she said. Even getting those four words out seemed an effort.
He squeezed her shoulder.
“That’s okay,” he said, and he reached for the key in the ignition. “Where shall we go to eat?” he asked as he pulled into the road.
“What do you feel like?”
“I’m really not hungry, Rory,” she said.
“I think I just want to go home. I’m sorry to put a damper on your evening.”
He was disappointed by the sudden change of plans, but he had the feeling she needed a good long cry and didn’t want to do that in front of him. Even Daria had cried in front of him when she told him about the plane crash. Why was it so much easier to talk about difficult topics with a friend than with a potential lover?
“It’s not a problem,” he said.
They were both quiet on the drive to Poll-Rory, and he had a sudden, jarring thought: a mastectomy. Maybe her illness had been breast cancer. That would explain the high-necked bathing suits she wore. It would explain her fear of intimacy. He glanced at her as he drove. Her face was turned away from him, toward the window, and he wished there was something he could say to ease whatever fear and pain existed inside her. But it would have to be her decision to confide in him. He could think of nothing he could do to hasten that process.
Daria looked up from her seat on the rocker as Rory pulled into his driveway. She and Chloe were sitting on the Sea Shanty porch, reading, but now Daria’s attention was fixed on the car across the cul-de-sac.
Rory got out of the driver’s side of the car, and Grace emerged from the passenger side. There was a physical pain in Daria’s chest—a twisting, wrenching feeling. Rory rested his hand on Grace’s back as they walked toward her car at the curb. Grace got into her car, and Rory leaned close to the open window to talk to her, or to kiss her—Daria couldn’t see. Rory stood up from the car and walked into his cottage. The pain in Daria’s chest sharpened, and she knew her feelings for Rory were out of control.
“I’m worried about you.”
Daria jumped at the sound of Chloe’s voice, unaware that her sister had been watching her.
“Why?” she asked.
Chloe rested her book upside down on her knees. “Because of Rory,” she said.
“Because of the way you feel about him.”
“It’s that obvious, huh?”
“Yes, it is. And it’s crazy, Daria. I understand. You’re still reeling from Pete. You’d been with him for six years and you thought you would have married him by now. Of course you’re vulnerable. But infatuation with Rory Taylor is not the answer. It’s got to be taking a toll on you, pining for him every day.”
“I’m not pining,” Daria said.
“You are, too. And it’s pretty obvious he’s interested in Grace. I mean, he cares about you as a friend, same as he did back when you were kids. But his romantic interest is in Grace, Daria. You can see that, can’t you?”
“Of course, I see that. That’s what hurts.”
“You don’t really know him, Daria. He’s not your type. Maybe he was your type when he was ten years old and you were seven. But now… he’s Hollywood, Daria. He’s glitzy.”
“Glitzy?” Daria laughed, but the sound was weak.
“That’s not a word I’d use to describe him. He’s very down-to-earth.”
“You’re seeing him here, in Kill Devil Hills, so, of course, he seems down-to-earth. But watch the reruns of True Life Stories. Tell me then that he’s down-to-earth.”
She had watched the summer reruns, just as she’d watched the original shows during the rest of the year, and he was the most down-to-earth the host of a TV show could be. But she could see no point in arguing that with Chloe.
“I really just want a friendship with him,” Daria said, more to convince herself than Chloe.
“Bullshit,” Chloe said in her sometimes-I just-can’t soundlikea-nun voice.
“You’re tied up in knots over him. And even if he did give you some hint that he might be interested in you that way, he’s leaving at the end of the summer. He’s a California boy.”
Daria didn’t answer. She didn’t want to fight about this, because she was afraid she would lose and that Chloe was right. She opened her book again, and Chloe did the same, but Daria’s thoughts were still on the cottage across the cul-de-sac. She had tried not to think about the end of the summer. She couldn’t bear the thought of Poll-Rory being | home again to a string of weekend renters, then finally‘1 standing cold and vacant, while she and Shelly had the;
winter cul-de-sac entirely to themselves once more.
Vy/io? was she going to do about Rory?
Grace drove through the darkness toward Rodanthe, that one thought blocking all others from her mind. She had never treated anyone this way before. Never used another person for her own gain. It had gotten out of hand, and she didn’t know how to fix it. She was driven to see him. but only because it put her so close to Shelly.
Shelly was stunning! She had been an ethereal vision, walking through those sea oats, golden in the early-evening light. She looked so healthy, and Grace clung to that reassuring fact. But Pamela had looked healthy, too. She wished Shelly was not constantly taking those solo walks on the beach. How quickly did she walk? How strenuously?
Shelly was tall and lithe, just like Grace had been at that age. She had the body and the presence of a model. She remembered what Rory had said: Grace looked like a model, too.
Oh, Rory, she thought, if only you knew.
She’d first heard those words when she was sixteen years old. She’d been walking alone through the shopping center where she and her best friend, Bonnie, had after-school jobs, when a man suddenly stepped in front of her. She’d had to stop short to avoid running into him. He was probably her mother’s age, maybe a little older. He had silver hair, but his face was relatively unlined and his blue eyes smiled at her. For someone his age, he was very handsome.
He apologized for disturbing her, then told her his name was Brad Chappelle and he ran a modeling agency.
“I’m walking through the shopping center today, looking for girls who might be model material,” he said.
“And I have to tell you that you are the most beautiful girl I’ve stumbled across in my search so far this year.”
Already shy. Grace could think of nothing to say in response to such an effusive compliment, and the man continued talking.
“You’ll have to get some photographs taken for a portfolio,” he said, “and then you’ll have to go through the training program at my agency.
It will cost you some money, but you’ll easily make ten times that in your first year as a model. I can practically guarantee it. “
He wanted money. Was that was this was about? Some sort of scheme?
“I really don’t have any money,” she said.
He studied her for a moment.
“Well, in your case, if you can spring for the photographs, I’ll cover the training program for you,” he said.
“I think you’ll be a good investment.”
He told her she would need her mother’s permission to take classes at the agency, and Grace thought that would be a major stumbling block.
Her mother always seemed to view Grace as more of a liability than an asset, and she was indeed resistant to the idea—at first. Once Brad talked to her about Grace’s earning potential, though, she readily gave her permission.
Getting pictures taken for her initial portfolio turned out to be one of the most awkward afternoons of Grace’s life as she tried unsuccessfully to relax in front of the camera. The photographer was nice about it, telling her how much more confident she would feel after taking Brad’s modeling course.
She loved the classes at the agency right from the start. Since grade school, she had been teased about her height and her thin form. Now, her height, her slender body, her high cheekbones were the envy of other girls, and she found herself walking tall. She knew she was Brad’s favorite among his students, and she felt his eyes on her as she moved through the class. Admiration was in his face, and after the fourth or fifth class, he told her that she had a natural ability in addition to her beauty. Grace overheard one of the more experienced models say that Brad was grooming her for the big time.
Her first real assignment came that summer, at a fashion show at Beck’s, a local department store. Brad invited her mother as his special guest, which told everyone who hadn’t already figured it out that Grace was his pet. It was the first time her mother had seen her model, and the show went spectacularly well. Grace’s mother could not mask her pride at seeing her daughter, a changed young woman, on the runway. Grace was no longer painfully shy; she no longer walked hunched over to mask her height.
After that show. Grace’s mother began buying fashion magazines. She’d point to pictures in the magazine and hold them out in front of Grace. “Maybe you should have your hair cut like this girl’s,” she would say. Or, “If you’d do those leg lifts, you’d get a better rear end for those clothes you have to wear.” Grace’s mother and Brad conspired to persuade her to quit high school and focus entirely on her career, but Grace refused. She loved modeling, but she was beginning to envy her classmates’ normal lives as they entered their senior year. Bonnie was still her best friend, but things had changed. Bonnie had met a boy over the summer, and she usually had a date on Saturday nights. Grace often worked on Saturdays and was too tired to go out when evening rolled around. Not that anyone was asking her out, anyway.
As she was drawn deeper into her modeling career and became aware of the life-style Brad’s more experienced models were living, Grace grew uncomfortable. Most of the other models were older and out of school.
Drugs were rampant, and although she didn’t think Brad used drugs himself, he turned a blind eye to whatever his girls were doing to get themselves through their grueling schedules. There were more and more fashion shows out of town, and Grace had little choice but to skip school in order to take those jobs.
Her relationship with Brad was gradually changing. While the other models might be driven to shows in Washington or Philadelphia in a specially equipped van, Brad often asked Grace to ride with him in his car. At first, she thought this was because he knew she didn’t fit in with the other girls and that she felt awkward with them. But she began to realize that he no longer thought of her as simply one of his blossoming models. She would catch him staring at her when she was doing nothing more than putting on her makeup or eating her dinner of fish and vegetables. He hugged her often. He hugged the other girls, as well, but she knew there was something different in the way he touched her.
One night, while driving back from a fashion show in Washington, he was uncharacteristically quiet in the car. She was tired, so she didn’t mind. Resting her head against the car window, she had nearly dozed off when his voice broke the silence.
“I know this is crazy,” he said, his gaze fixed out the front window of the car, “and I have no idea how you’ll react to this, but… I’ve wanted to tell you something for a while now.”
She turned her head in his direction, waiting.
He glanced at her, and for the first time since she’d known him, he looked unsure of himself.
“I’ve fallen in love with you,” he said.
The words stunned her. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She had no idea how to respond.
“I know, I know,” he said hurriedly.
“I’m old enough to be your father. And believe me, I’ve been fighting the feelings. But I can’t help myself. I’ve been attracted to you from the very beginning, and you’ve just become more… appealing to me as you’ve matured and grown as a model. You project this… savvy innocence. It’s irresistible, Grace.”
She couldn’t help being nattered that a man like Brad Chappelle was interested in her, but she still felt shocked by his admission.
“Say something. Grace,” he said. His voice was almost pleading.
“I’m very grateful for what you’ve done for me,” she said slowly.
“And… I do love you, Brad.” She did. He was the dearest man she’d ever known. He’d become like a father to her, and more. But she knew that would not be the best thing to say right now.
“I’m not in love with you, though. I’ve never thought of you that way.” She had to be honest with him. He was handsome, kind and generous, but nothing could change his age.
Brad sighed.
“See what I mean?” he asked.
“Any of the other girls would have said, job, I love you, too, Brad,” just to stay on my good side. But not you. I knew I could trust you to tell me how you’re really feeling. I certainly won’t push you. Grace. But I want you to know how I feel, in case that makes a difference to you. In case you might just possibly start looking at me. ‘that way,” as you say.”
When she got home that night, she called Bonnie, even though it was quite late. She lay on her bed and told BonI me, in perfect detail, what Brad had said to her. “I’m in shock,” Bonnie said when Grace had finished her story.
“And I’m mixed up,” Grace said.
“I think it’s neat that he’s interested in you,” Bonnie said.
“He’s really cute, don’t you think?”
No, she didn’t think Brad was “cute.” Bonnie’s seventeen-year-old boyfriend. Curt, was “cute.” Grace longed for Bonnie’s normal, teenage-girl life.
“Can you picture going to bed with him?” Bonnie asked.
‘ We,” Grace said, although she had never even kissed a boy, so it was difficult to imagine actually sleeping with one. And Brad was no boy.
There was a knock on her bedroom door.
“Grace?” Her mother opened the door and poked her head inside.
“Hang up,” she said.
“I want to talk to you.”
Something in her mother’s voice told her not to argue.
“I have to go, Bonnie,” she said. She hung up the phone and waited as her mother sat down on the edge of the bed.
“I happened to overhear your conversation with Bonnie,” her mother began.
“And I heard what you said about Brad.”
Grace had been in her bedroom with the door closed while talking with Bonnie. Her mother must have had her ear pressed against the door, eavesdropping. Either that, or she’d been listening on the extension.
Grace swallowed her rage; it would do no good to express it.
“I was talking to Bonnie,” she said, “not you.”
“I think it’s wonderful.” Her mother ignored the barb.
“Do you realize how lucky you are? Do you know how many women would give their right arm for a man like Brad Chappelle? He has money. He has power.”
“But I’m not in love with him,” Grace said, shocked that her mother would want her involved with a man as old as Brad.
“Love can come later. Love can grow,” her mother philosophized.
“You just have to be willing to allow it to happen.”
“He’s too old for me,” Grace said.
Her mother leaned toward her, clutching Grace’s arm in her hand.
“You owe him a great deal. Grace,” she said.
“Have you thought about that?
About how much he’s done for you? You need to keep him happy. “
“You sound like you’re more concerned about Brad’s happiness than you are about mine,” Grace said, freeing her arm from her mother’s grasp.
“I don’t think you know yet what will make you happy,” her mother said, standing up.
“I want you to think seriously about this, all right? You need to give Brad a chance.”
Grace lay back on her bed after her mother left the room. She shut her eyes, remembering Brad’s kind, open face as he admitted his feelings for her. She was afraid. Afraid of needing Brad’s approval so much that she’d hurt him to get it.
She never realized that she was the one who would end up being hurt.
1 he pilot’s eyes were brown. Brown and huge and terrified as her face slipped into the black water. Daria clung to her arm, trying to hold her above the water’s surface, but the plane was going down. She turned to see Shelly hanging by her hands from the propeller, dragging the plane and the pilot under. She screamed at Shelly to let go, but Shelly hung on.
“You don’t really want me to let go,” she called out to Daria. And the plane slipped under, taking the pilot with it, dragging Daria beneath the water’s surface as she tried vainly to pull the pilot up again.
Daria sat up in bed, gasping for air as if she had in fact been underwater for far too long. Her sheets were soaked with sweat, and it took her a moment to get her bearings. She was in her bedroom at the Sea Shanty, and the room was dark and eerily still. She could barely hear the waves breaking on the beach.
Relief washed over her at finding herself on dry land, but it was relief tainted with sorrow: it had been a dream, yes, but a dream too rooted in reality.
Sleep would never come now, she knew, and she didn’t dare close her eyes again for fear of the pilot’s return. Getting out of bed, she pulled on her robe, then walked barefoot downstairs and out onto the front steps of the Sea Shanty. The night was warm and balmy, the sort of Outer Banks summer night she had treasured all of her life, but the soft air and rhythmic lapping of the ocean on the shore didn’t soothe her the way it usually did. She leaned back against the porch door and looked up at the stars.
Poll-Rory’s porch door squeaked open, and in a moment Rory was walking across the cul-de-sac toward her. She sat up straight.
“What are you doing up?” His voice was quiet, as though he didn’t want to wake anyone. He sat down next to her on the steps.
“I could ask you the same question,” she said.
“I’m a night person,” Rory said simply.
“What’s your excuse?”
She rested her head on her arms.
“Nightmare,” she said. “That plane crash. The pilot drowned in front of my eyes one more miserable time.”
He put his hand on the back of her neck, massaging lightly, and she closed her eyes, willing him to keep it there.
“You can’t get away from that night, can you?” he said.
“Shelly was a bitch in this one,” Daria said, shuddering at the memory of her sister’s belligerence.
“She wouldn’t let go of the propeller.
She said I didn’t want her to. What the heck does that mean? “
Rory’s fingers dug a little deeper, slipping beneath her hair.
“I’m not much of a believer in the deep meaning of dreams,” he said.
“I
think you still have some unfinished business regarding that night.
That’s all. “
He was right.
“I keep wondering about the pilot’s family,” she said.
Her cheek rested on her knee, and the words slipped slowly from her mouth.
“I don’t know anything about her life. I don’t know how she came to be a pilot at eighteen. I don’t know if she had sisters and brothers, or a boyfriend who thinks he can’t live without her. I don’t even know her name, although I probably knew it at the time of the accident. I wish I’d made an attempt to get in touch with her family. I was the last person with her. If I’d lost someone close to me, I’d want to know what their last minutes had been like. Although, in this case, it sure wouldn’t be comforting information. And I couldn’t tell them what really happened, just like I haven’t told anyone else.”
“Except me,” Rory said.
She opened her eyes and raised her head to smile at him.
“Except you,” she agreed.
He dropped his hand from her neck to his lap.
“Well, it isn’t too late, is it?” he asked.
“Don’t you think they’d appreciate hearing from you, even after all this time? If I were in their shoes, it would make me feel good that the EMT still cared so much about what happened. And maybe it would help you, Daria. Maybe you’d stop being haunted by it all.”
“I hadn’t really thought of doing that,” Daria said.
“I guess I’m afraid to, since I’d have to lie about what happened.”
“But wouldn’t you feel better to see that they’ve been able to go on with their lives? Assuming, of course, that they have been able to go on,” he said.
“I guess that would be the risk you’d take by getting in touch with them. But no matter what you found out, at least you’d be dealing with reality instead of your fantasy. I bet it would put an end to your nightmares.”
“Maybe I will,” Daria said, and the idea gave her some relief. Rory was right. It would be good to know, in concrete terms, exactly how the pilot’s family was faring.
They both started at the sound of a bark and turned toward the beach to see Linda and three of her dogs crossing the dune to the cul-de-sac. Linda waved when she saw them and continued walking toward her cottage, the panting of the dogs loud and harsh in the still air.
“Someone else is having trouble sleeping tonight,” Rory said.
ivory had planned to call Father Macy to speak with him about Shelly’s adoption, but the priest beat him to it. He called Rory and invited him in to “have a talk,” as he put it. Rory gave Shelly a ride to the church the morning of his appointment, since she was to start work at the same time. She was her usual, bubbly self in his car, chatting mostly about Zack, as if realizing his son was one of Rory’s favorite topics.
“He’s a terrific volleyball player,” Shelly said as Rory turned the car onto Route 158. “Not as good as me, but still pretty good.”
Rory had to laugh.
“You’re just like your sister, you know that?” he asked.
“She could beat me at anything. And she wasn’t too modest about it, either.”
“You turn right in there.” Shelly pointed to the parking lot as they approached St. Esther’s.
“You can park in any space you like.”
The lot was nearly empty, and he pulled into a parking space near the small office building. He wondered if Shelly understood the reason for his visit with the priest. If she did, she’d said nothing about it.
The front door to the office building was open, and they walked into a wide corridor. Sunlight spilled onto the hardwood floors from the skylights and the large window at the far end of the hallway and the
clean, open, sunny feel n ing of the building made him even more optimistic about a comfortable, amiable visit with the priest.
“Come on.” Shelly grabbed his hand and drew him down the hall.
“I’ll introduce you to Father Sean.”
The door to the priest’s office was open, and Rory saw Father Macy sitting at his desk, his back to the door. He was sandy-haired and wearing a blue plaid shirt.
“Father?” Shelly rapped lightly on the open door.
The priest turned in his swivel chair to face them. He stood up when he saw Rory.
“This is Rory, Father,” Shelly said.
The priest walked across the room, holding his hand out to Rory.
“Good to meet you, Mr. Taylor,” he said.
Rory shook his hand.
“My pleasure,” he said.
“I’m going to get the vacuum,” Shelly said to Father Macy.
“I’ll start out here in the hallway so I don’t make too much noise for you and Rory, okay?”
Father Macy touched her arm.
“Good idea,” he said, then to Rory, “Come in and have a seat.”
Rory followed him into the room and sat down on the couch, while the priest sat once again at his desk, turning his chair to face him. He looked younger than Rory had expected. The corners of his eyes were creased with laugh lines, but he was not laughing now. Not even smiling, and Rory’s vision of a cordial visit evaporated.
“I understand you’re trying to find out who Shelly’s mother is,” the priest began.
“Well, yes. Shelly wrote to me to ask for my help in finding out who her parents are,” Rory said.
“But I’m also trying to create a complete picture of the situation. Not just the who, but the why, as well. Why it happened, the human drama of it, how the woman has dealt with her actions since that time, etcetera. Also, I want to focus on how Shelly has thrived with the Cato family.”
The priest leaned forward. “And you would pursue this even knowing that Sister Chloe and Daria strongly object to your interference?”
The priest made him sound like a villain.
“Shelly’s twenty-two years old,” he said, wondering how many more times he would have to offer this argument.
“And she, herself, asked me to pursue this.”
“Shelly has never known what is best for her.”
“I keep hearing that,” Rory said in frustration, “but I don’t see any evidence of it.”
Father Macy scowled.
“I know Shelly very, very well,” he said.
“I see her at least several times a week, and I know she’s a vulnerable young woman with a need for stability in her life, which she’s been given by the Catos, especially Daria. Digging up the past can only harm her fragile hold on that sense of security.”
“With all due respect. Father, I think you’re being melodramatic.”
“And I think you are being stubborn,” the priest said.
“You don’t want to hear any argument that will interfere with the production of your program. You’re in this for monetary gain, with no concern about the lives involved.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d been accused of callous disregard for people’s feelings in his pursuit of material for True Life Stories.
But the priest was wrong this time. He would not do anything that might hurt Shelly. Everyone was exaggerating the potential fallout from his research. or were they? His skin crawled with a sudden thought. The protestations of Daria, Chloe and the priest were so extreme, so vehement. Perhaps there was more behind them than simple concern for Shelly’s well-being. Perhaps they all knew something they did not want him to uncover.
Rory leaned forward.
“What’s going on here, Father?” he asked.
“What is everyone afraid I’ll find out?”
The priest looked surprised by the question. “The only thing we’re afraid of is that Shelly might be hurt by what you find.
Or, even by what you won’t find. Her hopes are up so high, that the fall itself would damage her. “
“I care very much about Shelly,” Rory said.
“I promise that if I uncover something that I feel would be truly damaging to her, I’ll back off.”
“I don’t particularly trust your judgment about what would damage her and what wouldn’t,” Father Macy said.
Rory stood up. This meeting, short and bitter, was over.
“I assume it’s hopeless asking for your cooperation on this,” he said.
“I would have liked to hear your memories about Shelly’s adoption and how you went to bat to make that happen.”
The priest didn’t bother standing up.
“You’re right. It’s hopeless,” he said.
“Daria found Shelly that morning, and I believe that was God’s plan. It was God’s plan that Shelly become part of a pious family. A true miracle. As far as I’m concerned, Shelly has no other parents, and no other family.”
“All right.” Rory nodded.
“I appreciate your time.”
He walked across the room, opened the door and left the office. Shelly was vacuuming the hallway, but when she saw him, she turned off the vacuum and came over to him.
“Isn’t he nice?” she asked.
“Yes,” he lied.
“Very.” He glanced at the vacuum in the corner of the hall. “Do you need a ride home later?” he asked.
“Oh, no, I’ll walk,” she said.
“I like to walk.”
“I’ll see you later at the cul-de-sac, then,” he said. He walked through the hallway to the open door, leaving Shelly alone with one of her many guardians.
Sean Macy’s office window looked out across the salt marsh toward the sound, and for a long time after Rory left, the priest simply sat and stared at an egret standing in the water and weeds. The brief encounter with Rory had exhausted him, but he knew that was only one facet of his misery. He had never before felt so low, and prayer no longer brought him comfort or answers.
“Father?”
He turned away from the window at the sound of Shelly’s voice. She stood in the doorway, the pretty, blond custodian of St. Esther’s, and he couldn’t help but smile at her.
“Can I come in to vacuum now?” she asked.
“Or will it disturb you?”
“You can come in,” he said. He studied her as she rolled the upright vacuum into his office. She turned on the machine and began vacuuming in the corner of the room. Her long blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she looked much younger than her twenty-two years.
Shelly.
He knew so much about her. More than anyone else, perhaps. He turned back to the window. A sailboat was out in the sound, far beyond the marsh, leaning almost parallel to the water.
Suddenly, the noise from the vacuum stopped, and he turned to see Shelly staring at him. She looked worried.
“You seem unhappy again,” she said.
Sean looked down at the papers on his desk. He truly didn’t want to burden her with his problems. He never did. But right now he felt driven to tell her, his own personal confessor, what was troubling him.
1 he meeting with the priest certainly had not gone according to plan, Rory thought as he drove home from the church. He wouldn’t be able to get information on Shelly’s adoption from Father Macy, that much was certain. Sure, he could get the facts from public records, but he had wanted the priest’s angle on the emotions involved. Without either of the elder Catos still living, it was impossible to understand exactly why and how they had longed to adopt the foundling.
He was waiting at a stoplight when his eyes were drawn to the roof of a house across the street. Construction workers were on the roof, building a deck, and one of the workers was obviously a woman. Her back was to him, and she was leaning over, hammering, her khaki shorts defining her shape. Her narrow waist curved into trim, shapely hips, and he felt an instant, visceral attraction. Was this the sort of work Daria did, balancing on the side of a roof, wielding a hammer? His gaze drifted to one of the other workers, a man whose blond hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he realized the man was Andy Kramer, Daria’s coworker. Rory jerked his gaze back to the woman. She stood up from her task, and he saw the wild black hair. Daria. A grin broke out across his face. He was filled with warmth at seeing her up there on the roof, and he was surprised, and a little shaken, by his unexpected physical attraction to her. It was a bit like being attracted to your sister. Except that Daria was not his sister.
The driver behind him honked, and Rory quickly looked at the traffic light to discover it was green. He pressed on the gas, wondering how long he had been sitting there in a daze.
Later that evening, he and Zack were batting the volleyball across the net on the beach, when Kara showed up. She was dressed in a green halter top and short shorts cut low enough to display the gold hoop in her navel. Leaning against the post that supported the net, she watched the two of them, and Rory was aware of the vibrations passing between his son and the girl. No doubt, they wished he would disappear. He was superfluous now that Kara had arrived.
He happened to glance toward the Sea Shanty and spotted Daria standing on the widow’s walk, watching them.
“Hey, Daria.” He waved to her.
“Come join us so we can have two teams.”
He was pleased when Daria called back that she was coming down, and in a moment she was on the beach. She was still wearing the tank top and khaki shorts she’d had on when he spotted her on the roof.
“How do you want to divide up?” she asked.
“Kara and me against you guys,” Zack said quickly, and Kara walked onto his side of the net. “This is going to be too easy,” Zack said to Kara.
“I don’t know about Daria, but my dad’s an old guy with a screwed-up knee.”
Rory rolled his eyes at Daria. She was laughing.
The game began. Daria was one mean volleyball player. She could spike the ball over the net with unstoppable speed, and when she jumped for a shot, it was as though she had springs on her feet.
Rory touched her to position her on the court. He knew that at least half his touches were unnecessary, yet his hand seemed drawn to her. This was crazy. A few hours ago, he’d thought of her as his little playmate. Grownup now, yes, but still essentially that spirited, sexless child. One glimpse of her up on that roof and suddenly, her body beneath his hand was the body of a woman.