Twice in a Lifetime (17 page)

“About these pictures,” he said.

“Yes, of course.” Miz Callie turned back to the task at hand. “Just looking at them brings back so many memories. All these faces.” She touched the picture he held, sighing a little. “We were all so young then.”

Untouched by life. They’d had a privileged childhood that was as different as could be from his.

But for all the innocence in the faces, they couldn’t have had an easy time of it. The older boys, Ned’s contemporaries, were laughing and horsing around in one picture, but not long afterward, most of them were off to war. Even

the younger children would have been affected, some with fathers gone for the duration. Or forever.

“There, now.” Miz Callie put one photo down in front of him. “Those are Ned’s particular friends.”

Four boys in their late teens posed on a sailboat pulled up on the beach. Ned Bodine’s face was familiar by now. He stood, hand resting against the mast, his air of unconscious pride telling clearly whose boat it was.

“This is Timothy Allen.” She pointed to a suntanned blond boy who grinned up at Ned. “He died somewhere in Italy, I know.” Her voice trembled.

“What about the other two? Do you remember their names?”

She nodded. “Phil Yancey and Bennett Adams.”

“Did they survive the war?” That was the crucial question, if he was going to find someone who’d know what Ned Bodine was up to that summer.

“Yes, they did. I remember seeing them off and on over the years, but their families weren’t really close to us. Just people who rented on the island that summer. I don’t know where they are now.”

He jotted down the names. “I’ll find them.” Assuming they were still alive to be found. “Anyone else?”

“Not anyone I think can help.” Her hands, thin and deeply veined, moved over the photos. “Even so, I’m glad to have these to enjoy.” She shook her head slightly, as if in wonderment. “Strange, but I just remember how happy we were. In spite of all the bad news from the war, and the shortages, and the worry on all the grown-ups’ faces, we were still children, playing on the beach.”

He was unaccountably touched. He wanted to say something that would let her know he understood, but before he could find the words, the door slid open.

“We finished our pictures,” Georgia said as she and Lindsay came inside. “We decided to show them off.”

“Look, Daddy. Look at my picture. Georgia showed me how to make the shell look round.”

He took the sheet of drawing paper she thrust into his hands. “That’s beautiful, Lindsay. I really like what you did with the colors, too.”

She beamed, then snatched it from him to show Miz Callie. Georgia bent over them, the three heads close together as they talked about the drawing. Lindsay leaned unselfconsciously against Georgia.

As Miz Callie said, Lindsay was warming up to her. He should be happy to see that.

But what if Miz Callie was wrong about Georgia? What if Lindsay grew to count on her, and then Georgia flitted back to her life in Atlanta?

He stood, shoving his notebook into his pocket. “We have to go.”

A questioning glance from Georgia told him that the words had come out too harshly.

“Daddy…” It was almost a wail from Lindsay. “Sorry, Lindsay, but remember that your big Vacation

Bible School program is tomorrow. You still have to practice your lines.”

“Oh, right.” She came to tug on his hand. “I want to make sure my costume is ready, too.”

“Good night, sweet child.” Miz Callie blew her a kiss. “I’ll walk out with you,” Georgia said, sliding the door open again. A breeze flowed in, bringing with it the steady

murmur of the ocean.

They’d reached the steps of the deck when Lindsay stopped.

“Daddy, I want to give my picture to Miz Callie. Can I?” “Okay, run and do it.”

She darted back inside, leaving him alone with Georgia for a moment.

“Any progress with Miz Callie?” she asked in a soft undertone.

“She gave me a couple of names that seem like good possibilities.” He grasped the railing, turning back toward her. She was closer than he thought, and he caught a faint whiff of the fragrance she wore. “If she thinks of any other names, let me know.”

“I will.” She tilted her face to look up at him. The breeze lifted her hair and fluttered the hem of her dress. “Is something wrong? You seem in a hurry to leave.”

“No, nothing.” Nothing except that the longer he stood here, the less will he had to move away. The breeze seemed to be pressing him toward her. It tossed her hair capri-ciously, and a strand brushed his face, drawing him in closer. Closer.

Her eyes widened, and her lips parted on a breath. His fingers closed on her arms and he—

“I’m ready.” Lindsay came clattering back onto the deck. “Miz Callie is going to hang my picture on the wall.”

Georgia took a step back, turning to grasp the rail and stare out at the water.

Somehow he managed to find his breath. “That’s great, Lindsay. Tell Georgia good-night, now.”

“’Night, Georgia.” Lindsay’s voice trailed over her shoulder as she started down the steps.

He headed after her, taking them so fast it almost felt like flight. Almost? Who was he kidding? It was flight.

Chapter Twelve

G
eorgia took a load of clothes from the dryer and began folding, the chore a silent reminder that she must decide soon what she intended to do with her life.

Back in Atlanta she had an apartment, clothes and personal belongings, some good friends, no job and no fiancé. Here she had family, a set of friends from whom her life had been separate for too many years, no job, no apartment and a tentative relationship with Matthew that he’d backed away from so quickly it was a wonder he hadn’t tripped. How did she make a pros-and-cons list out of that?

To be honest, she couldn’t say she had no place to live. The peaceful silence of the beach house comforted her. Her grandmother would be delighted to have her stay as long as she wanted. Or she could move in with one of her cousins for a while.

Not home. She and her mother had made a positive step in their relationship yesterday, but she wouldn’t kid herself. If she moved home, they’d fall right back into their old way of relating to each other.

As for Matt… That was a story that went nowhere.

The telephone rang, breaking off the futile line of thought. She hurried to answer it, since Miz Callie was off to spend the day with an old friend.

It was Matt, and he sounded a bit disconcerted when he realized she’d picked up. “Hi, Georgia…um, is Miz Callie there?”

“I’m sorry, but she’s visiting a friend. Is there a message?” If Matt wanted to keep things strictly business between them, she’d show him that she could do that. Never mind that the sound of his deep voice in her ear did such funny things to her.

“No, no message.” He sounded harried. “I wanted to ask a favor, but I’ll find some other way to deal with it.”

She paused for the briefest of seconds. “If there’s something you need, just tell me.” It was what her grandmother would say, what neighborliness demanded.

Now it was his turn to hesitate, and the phone line hummed with his unspoken thoughts.

“If you could help, I’d appreciate it. I’m stuck at the office. I can’t possibly get away for another half hour, and the Bible school program will be starting soon. I promised Lindsay I’d be there.”

She heard the frustration in his tone. He didn’t want to let down his child. But he couldn’t afford to walk out on a client.

“I’ll go right over,” she said. “Shall I tell Lindsay that you’ll be coming as soon as you can?”

“Yes, please.” Relief, so palpable she could almost touch it. “I don’t want her to feel she doesn’t have anyone to clap for her.”

“No problem.” She looked down in dismay at her faded T-shirt and oldest shorts. A quick change was in order. “I’m on my way.”

A shower would be nice, but that was out of the

question. She hit the stairs at a run. Luckily the church was only a few blocks away.

She reached the church with minutes to spare. Parents and grandparents were gathering in the fellowship hall, but the classes hadn’t come in yet.

Following the signs, she made her way downstairs and hurried along the corridor. She couldn’t let Lindsay walk into that big room and look in vain for her daddy.

She found the classroom, tapped on the door and opened it. The teacher was busily engaged in pinning what seemed to be butterfly wings onto the back of a little boy whose wiggling made it highly likely he’d end up on the pointed end of a pin.

“Georgia Bodine!” Grasping a chair, the woman levered herself to her feet and advanced on Georgia, arms spread wide. “It’s great to see you.”

“Candy, how are you?” Candy Morris had been in her grade all through school. She hugged her, then held her back. “You look wonderful.”

“I look pregnant.” Candy grinned and patted her belly. “Due in August, and I feel like a whale.”

Georgia felt a pang of envy. “On you, it’s beautiful.” A pair of arms clasped her around the waist. “Georgia,

did you come to see me in the program?” Lindsay’s eyes lit with pleasure.

“I sure did, sugar.” She glanced at Candy. “Okay if I talk to Lindsay for a minute?”

“Of course. Then you can help me turn these young ones into birds and butterflies. If I’d known you were around, I’d have recruited you to help with more than that.” Candy turned back to her butterflies, and Georgia drew

Lindsay aside, out of the turmoil.

“Is something the matter?” Lindsay’s eyes filled with sudden fear. “Did my daddy have an accident?”

“No, no, certainly not.” That must be the fear that lingered under the surface in the child’s mind—that she would lose her father, too. How uncertain Lindsay’s world must feel. “He wants me to tell you that he’s on his way. He was delayed at the office for a bit, but he’s coming.” She brushed a strand of fine hair back from Lindsay’s forehead. “Honest.”

The child’s eyes were wary, seeking confidence. “Okay,” she said finally.

“His meeting went longer than it was supposed to.” She’d probably already stressed too much that Matt would be here. If Lindsay were disappointed…well, she didn’t want to think about that.

“Will you help me with my wings?” Lindsay slid her hand into Georgia’s.

“I’d love to.” Her heart expanded at the sign of trust. “Show me where they are.”

She soon mastered the trick of pinning wings onto over-excited little bodies—just make sure that if the pin slips, you stab yourself.

Over a sea of jumping children, she raised an eyebrow at Candy. “Birds and butterflies?”

“We’re doing the Creation story.” Candy grinned. “Just be glad we didn’t get the sun, moon and stars. Those costumes are tough.”

Somewhere a bell rang, and she grabbed Georgia’s hand. “Georgia, honey, my aide didn’t show up today. Help me keep them in order while they wait to go on. Please?”

What did she know about managing groups of kids?

Nothing. But she could hardly say no, so she nodded.

To her surprise, Candy had little difficulty in getting them lined up quietly, now that the time had arrived. Holding hands, the children walked in a line down the hall

and up the stairs to the large room that had been turned into a temporary theater for the occasion.

A wave of nostalgia swept over Georgia. She remembered this. Vacation Bible School was a rite of childhood, and she’d always been thrilled when it rolled around. Thanks to her grandmother, she’d come to the one at this church as well as the one at her home church in Mount Pleasant.

Parents and grandparents sat in rows of metal folding chairs, cameras in evidence. At the end of the room nearest the kitchen, helpers buzzed around a table laden with refreshments for after the show. Fruit punch, she’d guess, and more kinds of cookies than anyone should possibly eat, although some of the kids would try. Some things didn’t change.

Apparently awed by the audience, Candy’s class stood quietly enough along the wall, watching as the youngest children sang songs. Georgia scanned the room. A number of people she knew were here, and she caught several looking at her. Wondering, maybe.
What’s Miz Callie’s granddaughter doing here? I thought she was working up in Atlanta.

What was she doing here? Plenty of her classmates, like Candy, had settled down to marriage and family by now— their lives set in a familiar track. Not adrift like hers.

“We’re next,” Candy whispered. “You can sit and watch if you want. Thanks a million.”

“My pleasure.” She waved at Lindsay, and then skirted around the back of the audience to find a seat at the rear. And there was Matt, slipping in the door just in time.

She waved. He caught the motion, nodded and came to join her just as the birds and butterflies were introduced.

The program went on, as such things always did, with mistakes here and there that were easily forgiven by the audience. Each class performed to thunderous applause, and the finale led to a standing ovation.

She stood with the rest, clapping, feeling a surge of pride.

She couldn’t take credit for much, but she’d been there.