On Folly Beach (31 page)

“I was hoping I’d run into you, Peter.”

“Really? And why is that?” Peter asked with mild interest. His hands were shoved into the front pockets of his pants as they strolled casually down Center Street toward the carnival and the Ferris wheel, which loomed over the shoreline like a giant beach ball.

“One of the fellows in my unit is from Solon, Iowa. Isn’t that where you said you were from?”

“Yes, it sure is. What’s his name—perhaps I know him. Solon’s a very small town.”

“That’s what he said, too. Nathan Haynes. I believe you’re around the same age. Ring a bell?”

Peter continued walking, his forehead creased in thought. “No, I’m afraid it doesn’t. But I didn’t attend school in Solon. My parents sent me to a private boarding school in Chicago, so I didn’t have a lot of friends my age in town.”

Robert nodded. “He knew you. Or your family, I should say. The Nowak name is well known because of the factory and the number of people your father employs.”

Peter smiled. “I hope it was all favorable, then.”

“Oh, definitely. He did say that he went to school with your sister, but he doesn’t remember her having a brother.”

“Really? My sister and I aren’t that close, most likely because we’re six years apart and I was sent away to school and she stayed home. Maybe because of my absence, she felt more like an only child.” He paused and they continued walking. “Or maybe your friend just doesn’t have a good memory.”

“Yeah, maybe,” said Robert as they approached the ticket booth.

The sound of the carnival mixed with the band music coming from the pier, a heady concoction almost as delicious as the promise of the candied apples and roasted peanuts being sold at the concession stand at the entrance. Like hunting for shells on the beach, the summer carnival was a part of Maggie’s childhood, and for a moment she wanted to take off running like Lulu, her head spinning from the lights of the giant Ferris wheel, unable to decide between the crazy mouse roller coaster or the tilt-a-whirl.

Cat and Robert disappeared in the crowd while Peter and Maggie wandered aimlessly, keeping an eye on Lulu as she rode various rides with her friends. Peter paused in front of a ball-toss booth and Maggie stopped, too. “How many tries?” he asked the attendant, an older man with a missing front tooth and skin as seamed as windswept dunes. Peter was already reaching for his wallet.

The man spoke without dropping the toothpick from between his lips. “A nickel buys you five tries to get it into the bull’s-eye. Or for a dime I’ll give you fifteen.”

Peter pulled out a nickel and slapped it on the counter. “I’m not going to need more than two, I don’t think.” He winked at Maggie. “And what do I win if I get it in the bull’s-eye?”

The man working the booth tapped a dirty fingernail on the glass-covered counter. “Your pick of any of these ladies’ fashion rings.”

Both Peter and Maggie peered at the cheap glass rings, then smiled at each other. Taking the first ball from the attendant, Peter said, “Go ahead and pick yourself a ring, Margaret, because you’re going to be wearing one before I’m through.”

Feeling silly, she held her breath while Peter took aim and tossed the ball. It bounced off the cup of the bull’s-eye, ricocheting against the sheeting hanging in the back of the booth before rolling onto the floor.

“Four more tries,” the man said without dropping the toothpick while handing the second ball to Peter.

This time, Peter tossed the ball a little higher than before, and it sank in its mark, barely touching the edges.

Maggie clapped her hands but restrained herself from throwing her arms around his neck. The attendant didn’t look happy as he pulled the tray of rings out from the counter and dumped it on top. “Pick one. And do it quickly. Got a line of people behind you.”

Maggie pretended to consider the choices for a moment before selecting a flower-shaped ring with five pink glass petals surrounding a pale blue center stone. Before she could slide it on the finger of her right hand, Peter stopped her.

“Allow me,” he said.

Something cold and solid slid over the knuckle of Maggie’s right-hand ring ringer, feeling a lot heavier than the cheap ring had looked. She gave a gasp of surprise as she straightened her hand out in front of her the way Cat had done with Jim’s engagement ring. A single oval-cut sapphire winked up at her, catching the glowing lights from the giant Ferris wheel.

“It’s your birthstone. I saw it and couldn’t resist.”

“Oh, Peter.” She pulled her hand in, clutching it close to her chest.

“I can’t accept this. It’s just not . . . It’s not proper for me to accept such an extravagant gift from you.”

He placed his own hands over hers. “Even if it’s a promise ring?”

Her eyebrows knitted over her nose. “What do you mean?”

Peter nodded. “Remember our promise?”

Her eyes searched his. “Yes, of course, I do.”

“I want you to remember it every time you look at this ring. The world is a complicated place right now, and I can’t offer you any more than this. But things will change—that’s the one thing we can bet on. And then we can make new promises to each other.”

The air thinned suddenly, the carnival lights and sound of the ocean encircling Maggie’s head like a time warp as the earth stilled on its axis. She paused, stamping each sight and sound in her memory, knowing that this would be the moment she’d recall always as the happiest moment of her life. She stood on her tiptoes until her lips were only a breath away from Peter’s when she felt someone grab her hand.

“Mags!”

Maggie looked down to find Lulu looking at her impatiently. “You said you’d go on some of the rides with me.” Her gaze slid to Maggie’s right hand. She didn’t say anything, which made Maggie fairly confident that she’d heard every word.

Before Maggie could respond, Peter said, “Let’s go ride the Ferris wheel.”

Their eyes met, and she swayed into him. “Oh, please—let’s! But I promised Lulu I’d go with her.”

“We’ll all go together.” After waiting for Lulu’s nod of approval, he took both their hands and led the way through the crowd to the end of the long line waiting for the Ferris wheel. Maggie couldn’t remember being this excited before. Maybe it was the change in season, or even this small symbol of normalcy amid a world that seemed turned upside down. Or maybe it was simply that Maggie and Peter both knew that everything could change without their consent.

The three of them squeezed onto the seat with Lulu in the middle, their feet nestled against the footrest beneath them. and waited for the attendant to fasten the thin metal bar in front. They crept upward as the attendants unloaded and loaded each car. Then, with a loud grinding noise, the large wheel began to spin slowly.

Lulu kicked her feet with excitement as Peter met Maggie’s eyes over Lulu’s head. His intensity made her blush and look away out toward the endless ocean, where it touched the sky’s edge. It made her think of possibilities and of promises made. She placed her left hand over her right, feeling the shiny new ring.

When Maggie looked back at Peter, he, too, was staring out at the ocean, his face serious and unreadable, his gaze fixed on the horizon. But when he turned to face her again, his eyes were shuttered to her, as if they’d been looking at something completely different and what he’d seen had nothing at all to do with possibilities or promises. He looked away, down toward the ground, as if he couldn’t wait to get off the Ferris wheel, and Maggie felt her world shift.

When the ride was over, Peter reached for Maggie, helped her out of their car, and smiled at her warmly. But as they walked away with the bright lights of the Ferris wheel behind them, Maggie couldn’t stifle the feeling that she’d just missed a step on a long flight of stairs and found herself tumbling to the bottom.

CHAPTER 16

FOLLY BEACH, SOUTH CAROLINA

September 2009

Emmy awakened at dawn, sure she’d heard footsteps. But when she opened her eyes, all she heard was the morning birds, whose names she didn’t yet know. Like the marsh, they were to her another mystery of the Lowcountry—another unknown that made her feel more of a visitor than a permanent resident.

She sat up in bed and closed her eyes, trying to recall the footsteps again, remembering that they hadn’t been in her bedroom but had come from the living room nearby. She shivered under the ceiling fan, afraid that the footsteps had been walking away from her.

After sliding from the bed, she went to the kitchen and started coffee, then stared at the mess around her. The new children’s corner at Folly’s Finds and the brand-new computer system and Web site had been taking up most of her time and energy, leaving little of either to go through the books scattered around the living room floor. There was only a small section left, probably only one or two days’ worth of work. As she fixed her coffee, she tried to ignore the niggling thought that her reluctance to finish had less to do with time and more to do with her inability to say good-bye.

She considered going for a walk on the beach before showering and dressing, but quickly dismissed both thoughts. It was Sunday and she didn’t have to leave the house at all, or even shower if she didn’t want to. As comforting as the thought was, she bargained with herself to at least run to the grocery store later, if for no other reason than to see another human being.

After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she opened up her laptop, then settled herself behind the first stack of books and grabbed the one on top. She opened up the front cover and was surprised to find the first note, written by the unknown woman. The letters were small, John Dryden’s words wrapping around the page: “Love reckons hours for months, and days for years; And every little absence is an age.” I need you, I need you, I need you. When? And please, make it soon. I love you.

Emmy tasted the desperation and longing in her own throat, felt as if she’d written those very words. Who was she? For a brief moment, Emmy considered quitting, then putting all the books back on the shelves in the turret and closing the door. For months she’d known that it was a possibility she’d never know who’d written the notes or what had become of the two lovers. But now she found herself wishing that she wouldn’t find out, knowing all too well that love wasn’t enough to keep two people together forever.

In quick succession she found two more entries. The first, again from the woman, read: You erase all doubts when we are together, and I cannot believe that we are doing wrong. Soon darling. Please.

Emmy picked up her untouched coffee, only to find it had grown cold. With a shaking hand, she slid the last book in the pile, Mansfield Park, closer to her and opened the front cover. Slowly she flipped through each page until she’d reached page 141 and her hand stilled, the words, written in the man’s handwriting, sending the old familiar chill down her back. This must end. I am near desperation—the kind of desperation that can drive a man to murder. I’ve been lying awake at night, trying to think of a way out of this intolerable situation. I need to talk to you. Meet me. Murder? The word sent a chill through her, giving her the feeling of eavesdropping on a conversation she was never meant to hear.

The doorbell rang and Emmy jumped up, knocking the cup and spilling coffee over its sides. She looked down at Ben’s old T-shirt, which went to her knees, then pictured her unbrushed hair and the dark circles that hovered under her eyes. For a moment, she thought about pretending that she wasn’t there, but she caught sight of Abigail’s car in the driveway through the front window.

With a lingering glance back at the books, she made her way to the front door and opened it. Her welcoming smile faded when she spotted Lulu standing behind Abigail and looking about as happy to see Emmy as Emmy was about seeing her.

“Good morning.” Emmy looked expectantly at Abigail.

“It’s afternoon,” said Lulu, her gaze focused on the bottle tree etched into the window glass of the door.

“Yes, well,” said Abigail, “Heath told me that you had some photographs here and in the envelope I gave you that needed identifying as well as some other questions that only Lulu can answer, so I brought her here, knowing that if I left it up to the two of you, it would never happen.”

Emmy surprised them all by laughing. “How did you get her to agree? And I hope a weapon wasn’t involved.” She stepped back to allow them both inside.

Lulu brushed past her. “Nope. She just said that we could talk about Jolene and the Web site while I was here.”

Abigail sent Emmy an apologetic look as she walked past Emmy. “Heath wanted me to tell you that he’s back from Atlanta.”

“He is? It’s been so busy at the store, I almost forgot that he was gone.”

Lulu snorted but Abigail and Emmy ignored her as Abigail said, “He said he’ll be here for a couple of weeks to finish all the electrical work for the new section at the store, and that he hopes you’ve been walking on the beach each morning like he told you because he’s going to take you running.”

Emmy took her time closing the door, unwilling to meet anybody’s eyes. She’d gone to the top of the dunes twice with the intention of walking—she’d even worn her sneakers and the hat her mother had sent. But like finishing up with the stacks of books in her living room, moving forward onto the actual beach had been too much of a permanent step—a formal good-bye to something she was unwilling to name.