Merritt looked like a deer caught in the crosshairs of a hunter’s rifle, her feet primed and ready to bolt. The Merritt whom Loralee and Owen had first met when they’d come to Beaufort probably would have. But in the short time they’d known her, Merritt had changed. Maybe it was the South Carolina heat or the scent of the pluff mud that had slowed her gait and widened her smile. It was like a loosening of bones, an opening up of spaces inside of her that weren’t empty and dark but instead simply pieces of her heart waiting to be filled. It could be, Loralee thought, this beautiful place of water and bridges and islands that had changed her. Or maybe Merritt was simply responding to being with people who cared about her. It hurt Loralee to think about how long it might have been since Merritt had felt that way.
Merritt didn’t drop her gaze, and Loralee wanted to clap. It was a glimmer of the Merritt from the past, the girl Robert had remembered. “Yes. He knew.”
Gibbes didn’t say anything, his silence meant for her to continue. Loralee could see how he was a good pediatrician, knowing when not saying anything was the best way to listen to children telling him about the bogeymen who lived under their beds.
Merritt continued, her look defiant, as if she expected Gibbes to contradict her. “He even got some kind of warped satisfaction from my fear, like it was a well-deserved punishment for something I wasn’t even aware I’d done. He was like that, wasn’t he? Always looking for justification or retribution no matter how convoluted his reasoning.”
A muscle ticked in Gibbes’s jaw. “Did he ever take you swimming, or try to help you in any way to get over it, or at least manage it?”
Merritt went very still. “Once.” She jutted out her chin and looked like she was about to say more, but a shudder ran through her, and for a moment Loralee thought that Merritt might need the garbage can on the side of the bed. Instead she took a deep breath. “It didn’t cure me, but it gave him a reason to call me a coward, which I guess I am, since I’m still afraid of the water.”
They stared at each other, as if daring the other to break contact, to admit defeat.
“Then why don’t you prove him wrong?” Gibbes asked, his words slow and deliberate.
She looked at him as if he’d just suggested she stand on her head and make up a rap song. Her jaw worked as she tried to form the word no, but Gibbes was faster.
“Whatever Cal did to try to help you manage your fear, I promise you this will be a lot more fun. And I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
Loralee nestled back into her pillow, feeling warm and tingly, just like she got when watching her favorite soaps.
Merritt searched the room as if it might offer a reason to say no, but her gaze settled back on Gibbes. She gave a heavy sigh. “As long as we’re home in time to go buy a refrigerator.”
He smiled, and Loralee hoped that Merritt noticed how knee-weakening it was. “Deal.”
Looking as if she were headed for a firing squad, Merritt turned toward the door again, but Loralee stopped her.
“Take that shopping bag from Belk’s with you.” She pointed to the bulging bag by the door. “I had to return some things I’d bought in Georgia that still had the tags on them, but they were old so I could only exchange them. I don’t need anything, so I got some things I thought you might like instead. There’s a cute red one-piece bathing suit—in a forties style that I think will look really fine on you.”
Loralee was glad she’d waited until all of Merritt’s energy for arguing had been used up. Otherwise her stepdaughter probably wouldn’t have picked up the bag and exited the room without a word.
She and Gibbes listened as the bag bumped against Merritt’s legs as she walked down the hall and closed her door. And then, five seconds later, a loud groan.
“She must have just seen her reflection,” Gibbes said with a guilty smile.
Loralee laughed, wondering whether laughter really was the best medicine, because she already felt much better. “Could you please hand me that pink journal and the pen?”
Gibbes did as she asked, and before she could forget, she wrote, Never give a lady a tube of lipstick without a mirror.
chapter 26
MERRITT
I stared at my reflection in my dressing-table mirror and frowned. The red bathing suit fit perfectly, with its retro-style sweetheart neckline and boy-shorts bottom. Despite how relatively covered up I was, I still felt, well, sexy. It was an unfamiliar feeling, like wearing somebody else’s broken-in shoes. But I couldn’t quite talk myself into taking the suit off and wearing the shorts and T-shirt I’d had on before.
The doorbell rang and I heard Maris’s voice. I sighed to myself, realizing that I couldn’t back out now. A soft tapping on the door interrupted my thoughts.
“Merritt? It’s Loralee—may I come in?”
I opened the door, then stepped back while she gave me the once-over. “You look prettier than a pat of butter melting on a short stack.”
“Is that a compliment?” I asked, shutting the door behind her.
“Oh, yes. And you need to start recognizing them when they come your way so that you say thank-you and don’t look so surprised.”
She flashed her wide smile, which didn’t completely hide the fatigue behind her eyes or the slight yellow tinge of her neck below her foundation line.