The Summer Girls (28 page)

They spent a heavenly afternoon in the cool water with lots of splashing and laughter. Nate clearly adored Delphine. The dolphin seemed to be the center of his world, and Delphine seemed to be equally fascinated with the boy. She was very maternal. The dolphin swam close to his side, as though allowing him to swim in her slipstream. She circled him, very attentive to his whereabouts and whistling frequently. When Nate swam too far out, Delphine slapped the water with her chin, chattering, and steered him back to the dock.

Carson hurried to the dock, climbed up, and retrieved her camera from its bag. She felt again the creative urge to capture images of Delphine. She brought the camera to her eye and began clicking wildly, capturing the priceless moments of communication between the once-uncommunicative boy and the dolphin. It appeared to Carson that the dolphin recognized that Nate was a child and vulnerable, and, as she would have with any young dolphin in her pod, Delphine was acting as another auntie.

Carson lowered the camera and looked out at the boy and his dolphin. In this cove, with Delphine and Nate and herself, there was no doubt there was something going on that she could only call magic.

Later that afternoon when Lucille called them in for dinner Carson had to practically drag Nate out of the water. “You look like a prune,” Carson told him, pulling him onto the dock. Wrapping a thirsty, warm towel around Nate’s shivering shoulders, she laughed. “A stewed prune.”

“I am not a prune, I am a mammal,” replied Nate.

Nate was agreeable as she brought him upstairs to shower and shampoo. His soapy skin smelled sweet when he changed into his clean pajamas. He allowed her to comb his hair without the usual complaints.

Lucille had cooked Nate’s favorites. She carefully laid three pieces of plain ham on his plate with three pieces of broccoli, making sure they didn’t touch. Then she came up to him and set a separate plate beside him. On this she put a heap of mashed potatoes. She didn’t say a word but stepped back and clasped her hands, waiting. Carson and Mamaw exchanged worried glances as Nate bent close to the potatoes in close inspection. This wasn’t an item on Dora’s specific list of approved foods, but Lucille had told them earlier she wanted to give the boy the chance to reject it. It was white and only had butter on it, so she was hopeful. They held their breath as Nate dipped the tip of his spoon into the soft mass, tapped it on his tongue, tasted it. Without another word, he dove in. They all exhaled. Lucille’s chest expanded and she took a seat at the table.

Throughout the meal, Nate shoveled food into his mouth and regaled them with dolphin facts. He wasn’t a good conversationalist. He didn’t ask questions, nor did he
care about their opinions. Rather, he ignored them as he went on and on, dispensing a seemingly endless number of facts about dolphins he’d read about in his books. But Carson and Mamaw were just relieved to see him so open and animated.

“My, but you’re a fountain of information!” Mamaw exclaimed with a roll of her eyes.

Later that night, Nate was so tired from all the physical exercise and sun that he offered no resistance to going to bed. “All the exercise and excitement took the contrariness right out of him,” Lucille commented.

Carson tucked him in, and as she walked to the door, he called after her in a sleepy voice.

“Aunt Carson?”

“Yes?” she said, her hand on the light switch.

“Tonight I would like to dream about dolphins.”

Carson smiled, surprised. He had never referred to his dreams before. She didn’t even know if he had dreams.

“Me too,” she answered softly, before giving a prayer of thanks. Later, as she lay in her bed, she closed her eyes, picturing Nate’s face in the ocean with Delphine, their eyes sparkling with happiness.

The following day Dora returned to Sea Breeze and found her grandmother sitting in the shade of the porch like a queen bee in her yellow cotton tunic.

“Darling girl!” Mamaw called out, raising both arms out. “You’re back. Give me some sugar.”

Dora was surprised to see her grandmother looking so vivacious and tan. In contrast, Dora felt pale and exhausted.

“How did everything go?”

Dora had spent hours with her lawyer preparing the divorce settlement. It was an emotionally draining experience. Then she had to hire painters, plumbers, and electricians to get the house in decent enough shape to put on the market. In truth, she was glad to pack up her and Nate’s clothing and hightail it back to Sullivan’s Island again. She found the house she’d once loved depressing now.

“As well as can be expected,” Dora replied evasively.

“And the house? When will the painting start?”

“I got a slot the week after next. There’s so much to do but we’re only able to afford the minimum. I hate to sell it
as is
.” She sighed. “Too poor to paint and too proud to whitewash.”

“Do whatever you must. It’ll be cheap in the end.”

“Where’s Nate?” Dora asked, sitting in a chair beside Mamaw.

“He’s out in the water with Carson.”

“Nate’s in the water?” Dora asked, alarmed.

“That little boy is another fish out there, I swanny.”

“He’s swimming in the cove?” Dora asked again with rising horror. She stood, fixing her gaze on the dock, squinting. “He’s not a good enough swimmer for that!”

“Calm yourself, Dora,” Mamaw told her. “Carson’s with him and she’s been giving him swimming lessons. He’s doing marvelously.”

Dora slipped back into the chair. “Swimming lessons?” she repeated, trying to make sense. “He takes lessons . . . without complaining?” She had persevered for years taking
Nate to swimming lessons at their local country club and he’d hated them, hated the teacher, hated everything about it. He’d had temper tantrums each time they went.

“Not a peep. He’s been such a good boy,” Mamaw said. “He thrives on the new regimen. I daresay we all do!”

“What new regimen?” Dora sputtered.

“You’ll have to follow it, too, my dear. We’re all committed. I feel wonderful! No fatty foods. No alcohol.” She smirked. “Or almost none. And the schedule . . . Honey, you’re going to love it. Carson is our early bird. She rises before the sun to go paddleboarding. Can’t help herself, bless her heart. The rest of us get up after the sun rises, around seven.”

“Nate too? He gets up on his own?” Dora asked, thinking of all the mornings she had to wheedle and cajole him out of his bed. “Is he sleeping well?” she asked.

“He sleeps just fine!” Mamaw exclaimed without guile. “All through the night. Why do you ask?”

Dora, mouth agape, just shrugged. At home, he often awoke during the night.

Mamaw went on. “He
is
particular about his food, as you warned, and we’ve been trying our best to stick to his diet. But once the food gets past his radar . . .” She shook her head and said as an aside, “No easy task, I tell you! He should be hired by the Department of Homeland Security. Anyway, once it’s approved, he gobbles it right up. And his appetite! It’s something else!”

Lucille came out carrying a glass of iced tea. She handed it to Dora. “That boy loves him some mashed potatoes. Can’t get enough of them. He’ll eat them at every meal if
we serve them. And we do,” she chuckled as she walked off.

“Mashed potatoes . . .” muttered Dora.

“That’s right, dear. He doesn’t object to the texture,” Mamaw said knowingly. “You’ll be so proud of his swimming, too. He’s made such progress! And in such a short period of time. I always said that Carson was a mermaid and now your son is too. Or should I say a merman? I have no idea what to call him, but he hates to leave the water. We have to drag that boy out. Then when Carson goes to work, I mind him. Sometimes I take him fishing. Lord, that boy loves to fish. He won’t eat it though, which I find peculiar. Lucille’s been cooking up the fish for the rest of us, but he’ll just stick to his ham without complaint.

“Sometimes Lucille and I take him to the market, which he does not like.” She leaned closer and told Dora confidentially, “I don’t think he likes crowds. They make him nervous, especially when they bump him. But I needed to buy him a few things, like a new swimsuit and some sandals. And books. I’ve never known a child who loves to read so much. Except perhaps Harper,” she recalled as an expression of fond memory flitted across her face.

Dora only nodded, taking it all in.

“Then, in the late afternoons,” Mamaw continued, “we’re all tired and hungry and have a little quiet time in our rooms. At night, Carson does some work in her room and Nate cuddles up in front of the television to watch Animal Planet or something about nature.” She smiled. “He’s a natural-born Jacques Cousteau.” Mamaw sighed and shrugged, seemingly tired by the long presentation. “Then it’s dinner and bedtime,” she summed up.

Dora listened to this recitation, stunned to silence. All this time she’d been worried witless about how Nate was faring at Sea Breeze, fearful that she’d put too much stress and responsibility on Mamaw and Lucille’s shoulders, concerned that Carson would resent an interruption in Mamaw’s private time at the house, and here they were, happy as a bunch of campers without mosquitoes.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” Dora stammered.

“No need to say anything, dear. Why don’t you take these towels down to the dock and see for yourself? Those two have been in there for hours. Be a dear and call them in for dinner.”

Dora made her way down the long wooden dock toward the water, her mind trying to grasp all that she’d been told about schedules and swimming and good times. When she reached the end of the dock, she stopped short, unable to believe her eyes.

Out in the water Nate was swimming like a seal with strong strokes, despite his life preserver, chasing down a red ball bobbing in the water a few feet away from him. He’d almost reached it when a gray shadow shot past him and popped the ball out from the water. It was the dolphin! Dora’s heart nearly stopped. That animal was right beside her son.

She almost shouted out a warning but the expression on Nate’s face silenced her. Her son was laughing. Nate burst forward and swam after the ball again, grinning from ear to ear. Carson wasn’t far from his side, calling out encouragement. This time Nate grabbed the ball and held on to it, beaming, while Carson whooped and the
dolphin made nasal sounds that she’d have sworn sounded like laughter.

Dora leaned against the railing. From below, Carson spied her up on the dock.

“Dora!” she cried out, raising one arm from the water and waving. “Nate, look. Your mom’s here!”

Nate swung his head to peer up and saw his mother on the dock. Dora waved her arm and grinned. “Hi, honey! I’m here!”

Nate frowned and held the ball closer to his body. “Go away!” he shouted.

“Nate!” Carson scolded him. “That’s not nice. Say hello to your mother.”

“I’m not getting out!” he shouted angrily.

Dora stared at her son glaring at her. She cringed, as though she could physically feel the delicate string that bound her to her son being ripped from her heart. It hurt, so badly.

Out in the water, she saw Carson with her head bent close to Nate’s, coaxing him to come out of the water to greet his mother. She saw the way Nate listened to her, then begrudgingly acquiesced. He swam with strong strokes beside Carson, their pace evenly synchronized. Like she’d always wished her son would swim with her.

Dora stood alone in the shade of the dock staring at the fast current in the water rushing past her. She had spent a dreadful week in appointments with her lawyers to begin divorce proceedings. She’d made temporary settlements and arrangements with the bank, and cried, desolate and alone in that empty Victorian house, packing up her and
Nate’s things for the summer in anticipation of selling it. Her whole life seemed to be rushing past her. Calhoun had left her. They were selling her house. All she had left in the world was her son. And now he wanted nothing to do with her, either.

She watched Carson climb from the water onto the dock. The water streamed from her taut, beautiful body. She leaned over to help Nate climb up, he allowing her to touch his hand, his arm. He looked so much stronger, healthier. He had blossomed without her.