The sun was still high in the sky as we pulled away, and I watched as the water widened then narrowed into the creeks and marshes of Cal’s boyhood, searching for him behind every live oak and cluster of sea oats. I wanted to see him, to remember that boy. And then maybe I could forget the man he’d become.
I turned my face toward the sun again and smiled up at the expanse of sky. You are so much stronger and braver than you think you are. I wasn’t sure I believed it, but at least I was beginning to feel the world twitching outside my self-made boundaries, burning with possibilities.
chapter 28
LORALEE
Loralee gripped the banister tightly, following the sound of the sewing machine in the dining room. It was midafternoon on Sunday, and Owen was back at the sandbar with Maris and her family. The house seemed sad without the noise children usually made, and she was glad for the staccato drill of the sewing machine to fill the silence.
She took two steps, then paused to rest. She’d managed to put on her favorite sundress that fell in an A-line and didn’t cinch it in at the waist like she was used to doing. She comforted herself with the knowledge that A-lines never went out of style and were flattering for everybody. She’d already written that in her Journal of Truths.
She’d left her high heels in her closet, and wore Merritt’s slippers instead. It had taken her a full half hour to convince herself that she couldn’t walk in her favorite shoes without losing her balance. She’d been surprised after she’d made the decision how little she cared. It seemed as if her body had already begun shedding its skin, unburdening her of things she wouldn’t need.
Loralee paused under the archway that led to the dining room. The walls glowed as light spilled into the room through the freshly cleaned tall windows from where Merritt had taken off the heavy silk draperies and dusty sheer coverings. She’d been removing all the drapes in the house, and had begun rearranging furniture and making lists of things that needed to be done, reminding Loralee of a mother bird preparing its nest.
“What are you making?” she asked as she approached Merritt, her head bent over a long strip of pale blue fabric.
Merritt lifted her foot from the pedal and looked up. “I’m restyling the curtains for the front parlor. This raw silk is old, but still in really good condition, and it’s too beautiful to get rid of. I guess the New Englander in me convinced me that I had the skills to redo them.”
Loralee leaned over to get a better look. “I kind of liked the heavy Gone with the Wind velvet look with the thick fringe, but it’s not my house.” She smiled at Merritt to show that she was joking—although not entirely.
“I’ve never seen the movie, but I’ve heard about it. If you’d like, I could make you a dress with what’s left over. Otherwise I’m just going to make some simple long panels with some kind of edging I haven’t decided on yet. Although I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be fringe. But I’m definitely getting rid of the big balloon swags that were at the top.”
“You’ve never seen Gone with the Wind? That’s like saying you’ve never been to a baseball game. Or eaten apple pie.”
“I have never seen the movie. Or read the book. And don’t look at me like I’m the only one.”
“Um-hmm,” Loralee said, making it clear that she was sure Merritt was the only person on the planet who’d never seen the best movie ever made. “As soon as you get your new TV and DVD player, I’m going to buy you a DVD so we can watch it together. I’d really hate for you to miss out.”
The sound of digging brought Loralee’s attention to the window. Gibbes was outside, his shirt discarded on the top of the bench, his drenched undershirt clinging nicely to his chest. He’d paused long enough from his work to lift the bottom edge of his undershirt to wipe his face, allowing her to see an impressive set of abs.
She looked down at her stepdaughter. “That man is fine.”
Merritt’s cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, which meant she’d probably been thinking the same thing. Although it was at least a step in the right direction, Loralee hoped she’d stick around long enough to hear Merritt say it out loud.
“What’s he doing?” Loralee asked.
“He’s trying to make sure you don’t do any heavy lifting outside. We were both rather alarmed that you’d moved the bench by yourself and then tried to level the dirt.” She glanced out the window again. “We found a disintegrating luggage tag in the little hole you dug, so Gibbes wanted to see if there was anything else under there before he filled it all in and leveled it.”
“He looks thirsty. Maybe you should bring him some sweet tea,” Loralee suggested.