Firefly Beach (48 page)

Caroline and her mother hugged, and neither wanted to let go. Clea and Skye had to step forward, to pry their mother away, whispering in her ears that it was time for Caroline to leave.

“Where’s Homer?” she asked, looking around.

“We checked the beach, Aunt Caroline,” Mark said. “He wasn’t there.”

“I want to say good-bye…” she said.

“He’s so old, darling,” Augusta said. “I don’t like to say this, especially with you about to leave, but they’re known to go off by themselves at the end.”

“He’s sixteen,” Skye said.

“I want to see him,” Caroline said. “We have to find him.”

“There’s only one thing to do,” Sam said.

“There’s no way we’re leaving without you seeing him,” Joe said.

“Let’s look in the woods,” Caroline said. She led the way.

They marched through the woods in swift silence. The scent of autumn was growing strong. The forest smelled of drying leaves and fallen pine needles, mushrooms clinging to the undersides of dead trees. It was the same time of year they had brought Homer here to live, and the old memories caused Caroline to feel a distant sadness, a longing for things long ago. She led her family, Joe, and Sam down the dry streambed, through the old cemetery where her father was buried, toward the curving path down the hill—the back way to Firefly Beach.

“Homer!” she called.

Her voice carried through the trees. Couldn’t he hear it? Homer knew the sound of bags being thrown into cars, the excitement of travel. He had done it often with Caroline, and she believed that he realized what was happening now: that she was leaving. Old love was stirring in her, the feeling of his head under her hand, the memory of rescuing him from the concrete kennel when he was just a puppy.

A bark sounded. Was it Homer? Caroline felt the yearning. She wanted to see him for what might be the last time.

“Did you hear him?” Caroline asked, peering through the thick brambles. A bright opening led to the beach. “Homer!”

The old dog lumbered down the path from the sand, his eyes shining with love. Caroline crouched down, her arms open, watching him come. He had a big smile on his white face, his mouth drawn back and his brown eyes laughing.

“Where were you?” she asked as he crashed into her arms. He nudged his nose against her face, licked her eyes and cheeks and hands. She let him slobber all he wanted because she was so happy he was returning from his adventure to see her off. Running back the way he had come, he waited for her to chase him. He was leading her on a chase, though the thicket, over the silver green grass onto Firefly Beach.

“Where do you go, Homer?” Augusta called, following behind. “On your mysterious trips?”

“You’re a traveler, aren’t you?” Caroline asked when she caught him on the beach, looking deep into his eyes. “But you always come home.”

Her heart ached with love for Homer, and for her entire family. How could she leave them at all? Why would anyone choose to walk away from all this, the comfort of their old home, this magical beach, the sure love of their sisters and mother and old dog? Homer sat on his haunches by a driftwood log, looking into her face with such keen emotion, she wished she could read his mind. Gentle waves broke on the sand, whispering secrets.

“Darling, you know I’m not one to shove you along, but don’t you have a plane to catch?” Augusta asked.

“We do,” Joe said, sinking down in the sand to pet Homer. The old dog looked long and hard into Joe’s face. He seemed to be reading it: the blue eyes, the shape of his mouth, the strength of his chin. As if making up his mind, Homer sniffed his hair. He gave Joe a slight lick, then another. The gesture wasn’t love, probably not even affection. But it was open and generous, a way of telling Joe to take good care of the girl they both loved.

“I’ll bring her home soon,” Joe said. Caroline nodded. She gave Homer a big hug, smelling the scents of drying grasses and sea air. Then, kissing him once on the nose, she stood up.

“Let’s go,” she said quietly to Joe, wanting to leave before she changed her mind.

“Okay,” he said.

But Homer yelped. He lay down as if he were in pain. The fallen leaves were a reminder of another trail, from long ago, and Caroline felt her pulse quicken. She crouched beside him. Her hands traced his body, wanting to soothe him, but feeling for lumps or broken bones.

Rolling on his back, he wriggled in the white sand. His face was full of play. Caroline knew he was trying to keep her near. She was about to stand, to lead him back to the house, when Joe crouched down. Something under the huge drifthood log had caught his attention, and he twisted his neck for a better look.

“Look,” he said.

“Oh, great,” Sam said. “Our eminent geologist has just discovered some rare beach glass that requires his immediate examination. Stand back.”

“No, look,” Joe said softly, taking Caroline’s hand.

“Whoa,” Sam said. “This could be, like, the coolest way to give someone a diamond ring—like hiding it in the parfait, only better. What’d he do, get Homer in on the caper?”

“Sam, shut up,” Joe said, gently directing Caroline’s attention to the underside of the old tree. Silvered by weather, surrounded by sand and seaweed, was a message, deeply scored into the wood.

The second she saw it, Caroline knew. Her eyes filled with tears. She petted Homer, and she let Joe hold her hand. She stared at the words, letting the tears spill from her eyes. Blinking, she could almost see her father’s old Buck knife: its handle worn, the blade carefully sharpened before every use. It wasn’t that she recognized his carving, or that he had signed it with his initials. But she knew.

“Mom?” she said.

“Yes, darling?”

Everyone gathered around. Caroline felt them crowding beside her, crouching around her. Joe’s arms held her tight, and Homer licked her hand.

“Dad was here,” Caroline said.

Everyone bent down to read the words, but only Augusta read them out loud: “ ‘
I love them all.
’”

“Dad carved that?” Clea asked.

“Certainly,” Augusta said, eyes shining.

Skye put out her hand, touched each letter. Her shoulders shook with sobs, but she looked straight at Caroline, smiling.

Behind them, wind moved the reeds. A seagull began to cry, wheeling overhead. Slowly the beach became more alive. The birds were getting used to the humans’ presence; very cautiously they began to come closer. Dusk settled on the sand, the last light evaporating into the violet sky. Caroline heard a twig crack and looked up in time to see a deer, approaching the creek. She thought of her father, of his love for nature. He had brought them somewhere beautiful after all.

“Why didn’t he tell us?” Skye asked quietly, staring at the words. “Instead of just carving it?”

“It was right here, the whole time,” Caroline said. How had Homer known? Had he followed her father? Had he heard him cry, watched him drink his whiskey, tried to console him as he walked down Firefly Beach and knelt down to carve his message?

Augusta nodded. “This is just an outward sign, but—”

“Outward signs are good.” Clea grinned.

“Especially when they’re the missing piece,” Caroline said.

It was time to go, that eternal moment between saying good-bye and actually leaving. Everyone had promised to write and call, everyone had kissed and hugged.

They were a close family. Was it possible to hold on too tight? All these years, living near Firefly Hill, Caroline had never wanted to go too far away for too long. As if in her absence shots would be fired. Someone would get hurt, the old dog would die. All her beloveds would disappear without her.

Now she knew that wasn’t going to happen. Missing pieces do more than complete the puzzle, they fill an empty space. Caroline’s heart was full of the knowledge that her family’s love wasn’t going anywhere.

Stepping away from the house, Caroline held Joe’s hand. They stood still for a moment, breathing the salt air and the last herbs of summer. The waves rumbled over the tide flats. Gulls cried out at sea, and one lonely whippoorwill called from a distant marsh. Sam walked ahead.

Caroline looked toward the shoals, where the wreck of the
Cambria
still lay. She closed her eyes and thought of her father, whose ghost had been such an important part of this magical night. She wore Clarissa’s cameo around her neck; Joe had his father’s watch in his pocket. The stars were out, and she found one for Andrew Lockwood. Their dead were with them always, showing them the way.

“Caroline!” Clea called from inside the kitchen. “Look!”

“Look!” Skye said.

When she turned back to the house to see what her sisters were talking about, Caroline saw a firefly. It was September. The night was cool; fireflies should have been long gone for the summer. But there it was, undeniable, darting through the grass above the beach. Green-gold, it glowed like magic, like a whisper from the past. The firefly zigzagged through the night. Homer chased it just like when he was young, playing on the sand with Hugh.

“Good dog,” Augusta called. “Good, wonderful dog.”

Caroline gazed at her sisters and mother. They stood inside the kitchen, shadowed by the screen door. Homer walked slowly to the porch. He sat down, facing her. They watched each other for a long time. The sea broke on the shoal, and the waves rushed in. Joe squeezed her hand. Caroline squeezed back.

“We’ll take care of him, darling,” Augusta called.

“I know,” Caroline called back.

Turning away, she walked with Joe Connor through the tall grass of Firefly Hill. He held the door of the car while she climbed in. Once inside, Sam gave Caroline several reassuring pats on the shoulder.

“Ready?” Joe asked, his clear blue eyes smiling.

“Ready,” she said, waving to her mother and sisters.

“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Sam said. “We’ll be back in a year.”

“A year,” Joe said. “Only a year.”

“A year’s not so long,” Sam said.

“No, it’s not,” Joe said.

Joe started the engine. He pulled away slowly, so he, Caroline, and Sam could wave. Beach stones crunched under the tires. She had the missing piece in her heart; it would be there always. Homer followed the car down through the dark and graceful tree canopy to the ocean and roads that led away from, and back to, Firefly Hill.

“I love them all!” Caroline cried out the open window.

The night was silent as the car sped away, but she could swear she heard her mother’s voice calling the same thing back.

November 6, 2000

Dear Everyone,
We made it!

Greece is beautiful, just like the postcard: white churches, rocky cliffs, the bluest water in the world. But it’s not home, and none of you are here. Homer would understand. We have the missing piece in our hearts, and it will bring us safely home to Firefly Beach.

WE LOVE YOU ALL,

C+J

About the Author

LUANNE RICE
is the author of twenty-one novels, most recently
Sandcastles, Summer of Roses, Summer’s Child, Silver Bells, Beach Girls, Dance With Me, The Perfect Summer,
and
The Secret Hour.
She lives in New York City and Old Lyme, Connecticut.
Beach Girls
was the basis for the Lifetime television network miniseries, and
Silver Bells
was a recent Hallmark Hall of Fame feature presentation.

Visit the author’s website at
www.luannerice.com.

ALSO BY LUANNE RICE

Sandcastles

Summer of Roses

Summer’s Child

Silver Bells

Beach Girls

Dance With Me

The Perfect Summer

The Secret Hour