The Beach House (46 page)

Across the porch she could see slivers of light escaping the edge of plywood covering Miss Lovie’s bedroom window. Walking over, she put her ear against the wood. Lovie and Cara were watching the weather forecasts on TV. The weatherman was talking on and on like he’d been doing all day about Hurricane Brendan. It was upgraded to a category two hurricane and was currently hammering the Bahamas. His voice was high and staccato and it made her jumpy just to hear it. But she got really scared when she heard Cara say with alarm to Miss Lovie, “They’ve issued a hurricane warning now for Charleston County. Wait. Damn, they’re calling for a mandatory evacuation of all the barrier islands.”

“There’s no need for panic. We have plenty of time,” she heard Miss Lovie say. Her voice was real calm compared to Cara’s and the weatherman’s.

“We’d better go first thing tomorrow morning,” said Cara.

Toy stepped back. So, that’s what Darryl was so freaked about, she thought, crossing her arms in a protective gesture over her baby. She was so afraid. For herself, for her baby, for Miss Lovie and for Cara. She wanted to go inside the house, to join them on Miss Lovie’s bed and hear them tell her that they were all leaving together. That everything was going to be okay.

But there’d be no more talking between them. No more yakking over morning coffee or giggling at night out on the porch. No more Miss Lovie gently correcting her speech or Cara helping with her studies. They had a way of teaching her things in a real nice way that always made her feel good about herself, not stupid. Toy laid her hand upon the wood and leaned forward.

“Goodbye, Miss Lovie,” she whispered. “Goodbye, Caretta Caretta.”

She wished more than anything that she could say the words to them in person. To thank them and say
goodbye
the way real families did.

But, of course, she couldn’t do that. They weren’t really a family. They wouldn’t understand why she had to go with Darryl to make a family of her own.

Toy walked quietly over to pick up her suitcase. Then, grabbing hold of the railing, she walked slowly down the stairs to the roadside where she set the load down and waited. The wind was really picking up. The palm leaves were clicking like castanets and she could smell rain coming in from the ocean. Somewhere out there the roaring of the surf was loud and threatening. She shifted from one foot to the next, feeling so nervous she had to pee. She didn’t wait long. She spotted headlights piercing the misty gray, then recognized Darryl’s white Mustang. She waved. He slowed to a stop beside her and stuck his head out of the window.

“Hop in. I want to get the hell outta here.” His eyes looked out toward the pounding surf. “Shit. Look at that monster out there,” he said with a jerk of his head. He took a long drag on his cigarette and his eyes narrowed over the curl of smoke. “It’s just lying there like a growling dog, waitin’ to pounce. Come on, babe, hurry up.”

Toy tugged open the rusty door with a yank, lifted her suitcase and, with a shove, pushed it up onto the back seat. She slammed the door shut, cringing when it creaked loudly. Worried that someone might have heard, she hurried around the front of the car and clumsily slid into the front seat beside him.

“You’re as big as a house,” Darryl said with a quick glance her way.

Toy didn’t say anything, didn’t even ask him to put out the cigarette that was making her queasy. Silently, she turned to look out the back window for a final glimpse of the little yellow beach house on the dune. Inside she knew she’d left the kitchen all orderly and sparkly and the floors vacuumed. She’d carefully wrapped up all the china that she’d enjoyed using so much and stored it in the closets with Miss Lovie’s favorite vases and pictures. And on her neatly made bed she’d left a note for Cara and Miss Lovie.

As they pulled away, she felt the finality of her decision. The beach house, where she’d been so happy, was all boarded up and shuttered. Closed to her forever.

Hatchlings are two inches long when they emerge from the nest. Adults weigh in at 250-400 pounds and the shell length can measure more than three feet in length. It takes 20-30 years for them to mature and reproduce but no one knows for certain how long they live. It could be as long as 100 years.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

H
urricane Brendan was gaining power and speed as it set a course directly for the Isle of Palms. Cara tossed and turned most of the night, terrified after an evening of being glued to the weather channel. She awoke groggy and hearing a high whistling in her ear. She groped for her alarm clock, then gasped when she saw it was nearly nine o’clock. How could she have slept so late, she wondered, waking quickly and throwing back her covers? How could it be so dark? Was the power out?

Then she remembered she’d boarded up the windows. For the first time that summer, the birds did not awaken her with their chatter. She slipped into jeans and a T-shirt, aware as she dressed that she’d be wearing these clothes to evacuate the island. That realization sliced fear into her resolve. She chose socks and tennis shoes instead of sandals, and laid out a sweater on the bed along with her purse.

There was a stuffy, closed-in smell in the opaquely lit house and the mood was ominous. She unlocked the porch door and swung it open. A gust of wind laced with biting drops of rain slapped her face. She caught her breath and stared, shocked, at the change in the weather. All trace of blue was erased from the sky to be replaced by a sickly jaundiced hue. Over the ocean, closer now, the looming clouds were a battle gray and the sea threw waves fast and high. In that moment she lost any hope she’d harbored that they were going to escape the punch from this one. She should’ve known. The hurricane was named after some guy. Brendan was shaping up to be another bully, just like Hugo and Andrew.

Everything was aquiver. The red rosebushes were fluttering from their ties to the pergola, throwing petals into the wind. Beyond, the new young palms they’d planted were swaying. The air swirled around her, a strange mixture of warm and cool, humid and icy. Unlike in the Midwest where a tornado spun from the sky without warning, a hurricane gave you plenty of notice to get the hell out of its way.

“Mama! Toy!” she called out. “Wake up! We’ve got to get moving.”

“I’m awake,” Lovie called out from her room.

Cara felt a jolt of adrenaline. She began carrying the rocking chairs and small tables in from the porch at a fevered pace. “Toy!” she called out again, miffed at the silence in both bedrooms. Then it hit her that Toy could be in labor. She set down the basket of hats, making a beeline for Toy’s room. She knocked on the door. “Toy?” She knocked again. When there was no answer, she slowly pushed open the door a crack to peek in.

Even in the dim light she could see that the bed wasn’t slept in. She pushed open the door and flicked on the light. The room was pristine. Toy’s maternity clothes hung neatly in the closet. The topaz ring that Lovie had given her lay in a bowl on the dresser. On the maple bed lay a white envelope.

With her heart in her throat, Cara reached for it and tore it open.

,!,!

Dear Miss Lovie and Caretta,

I’ve gone with Darryl to make a family of my own. I’m sorry I had to sneak out like this. I never meant to. I wanted to say goodbye, but the hurricane speeded things up. Darryl was leaving and I promised you I wouldn’t make any trouble.

I can’t thank you enough for all you did for me. I’ll always remember you and the things you taught me. Most of all, I’ll always love you.

Please don’t worry about me and forgive me.

And try to understand.

Love,
Toy Sooner

P.S. I’ll send you pictures of the baby.

Cara stared for a minute at the letter, disbelieving. How could she have done that to them? Now, of all times? Her heart hammered in her chest as she sprinted to Lovie’s room. She found her mother dressed in the same outfit she’d worn the day Cara returned home, only now the denim skirt and white blouse hung loosely from her gaunt frame.

“Mama, Toy’s gone.”

Alarm flickered across Lovie’s face. “What’s that? What do you mean, gone? To the hospital?”

“No. With Darryl!”

Lovie teetered back with her skinny arm out for balance. Cara rushed forward to grasp her, afraid she’d pass out in her weakened state.

“Toy, Toy, Toy,” Lovie keened in distress. “Why would she run off with him, Cara? Why?”

“Because she’s young and she thinks she loves him. Here, sit down and read the letter for yourself while I think of what to do.”

She went to the hall phone to call the police, but the line was dead. Staring at it, a new whip of fear slashed through her. Without a cell phone, they had no connection to the outside world.

“The phone is dead,” she exclaimed, hurrying to Lovie’s room. “I can’t call the police. Even if I could, what would I tell them? We don’t even know Darryl’s last name. Or what kind of car he drives. Mama, we don’t know anything about him except that he’s a creep.”

“She made her decision, Cara,” Lovie said calmly, sadly. She held the letter loose in her lap. “We have to let her go.”

“There’s got to be something we can do.”

“She knows where to find us.”

The front door swung open and they heard Flo’s voice. “Hello! Hello?”

“In here!”

Flo came rushing in wearing a bright-yellow slicker. Her face was frantic. “Thank God you’re still here. I’m trying to shove off but it’s Miranda.”

Lovie rose to rush into her friend’s arms. They gave each other a reassuring hug. “What’s wrong with Miranda? Has she run off again?”

“No, she’s plumb crazy, that’s what she is. She’s crying and fretting about that last nest in front of the house. Says we can’t leave it to get flooded by the hurricane.”

“There are a lot of nests still out there. What does she think we can do?” asked Cara.

“She wants us to move it.”

“
What?
We can’t do that. It’s against DNR’s rules.”

“Not really,” Lovie spoke up. When they turned her way she said, “The regulations state that the nests can be relocated by a permit holder when there is danger of the nest being destroyed by high tide.”

“Only with permission.” Cara was a stickler for rules. “And not off the beach.”

“Okay, then call Sally for advice,” said Flo.

“The phones are dead.”

“I’ll try my cell phone.”

They waited in a tense silence while Flo tried to reach the Department of Natural Resources offices. But there was no answer, only a recorded message.

“No one’s going to be there,” said Flo, closing her cell phone. “Everyone is getting the heck out of Dodge. As we should. The roads are already backing up.”

Cara’s mind clicked off their options. “Do you think the nest is in mortal danger?”

“No doubt about it,” replied Flo. “At least that one is. The tidal surge will completely flood the area, probably even erode that dune clear away. The other nests…well, they’re farther back. That’s the best we can hope for. Nature has to take its course.”

Cara looked at Lovie. “We can’t reach Sally. What do you want to do, Mama?”

“I don’t know….”

“Mama, it’s a yes or no decision. There’s no going back.”

Lovie lifted her chin. “Yes. But just that one nest. And I’ll be the one to do it. It’s my responsibility,” she said, her eyes flashing a warning that she was not to be argued with. “Y’ all can just keep away.”

While her mother was moving the nest, Cara took the final steps to close up the beach house. While she worked, she kept a close watch on the television for up-to-the-minute reports on the weather and traffic. The front room looked like a warehouse, the porch furniture and clutter stacked in every spare inch of space. The flowerpots and tools she’d locked securely in the shed under the porch so they wouldn’t become flying missiles. Suitcases and plastic bins filled with important papers and photographs were lined up by the door to be carried to the car.