I sat down on one of the long rows of cement steps that led down to the grassy area and stared up at the blue sky, wondering why there weren’t any clouds.
“Merritt?”
I shielded my eyes with my hand as I looked up at Gibbes.
“What are you doing here?” I asked ungraciously. I wanted to be alone, to lick my wounds in private. To pretend that if I hid long enough the world would stop and I could get off.
He sat down next to me without waiting for an invitation. “Deborah Fuller called me from her car and mentioned she’d seen you walking down Bay Street toward the marina. I left my car at your house and followed the boardwalk until I ran into you. You wouldn’t answer your phone.”
“Sorry you went to all that trouble. I’m not good company right now.”
I studied the stage again, seeing it transformed bit by bit, like watching a flower bloom. I felt Gibbes looking at me but didn’t turn my head.
“How’d you get home?”
“I hitched a ride with a nurse who lives on Charles Street. I didn’t want to wait for you. Like I said, I’m not good company right now.”
I wanted him to leave, wanted him to understand that every time I looked at him I saw my own failure to recognize someone’s needs besides my own, my inability to hold on to anything precious in my life, to admit that everything Cal had ever said about me was true.
Unable to take a hint, Gibbes stayed where he was, his elbows on his knees as he watched the stage setup. “Do you dance?”
I whirled to face him. “What? No. I don’t dance.”
“They’re having a bunch of bands coming to play beach music during the festival, and everybody will be here to shag.”
“Excuse me?”
He sat up, bracing his arms on his hands. “Shagging as in the South Carolina state dance, not the Austin Powers shagging.”
I stood. “Loralee is dying. I really can’t think of anything besides that right now—especially not dancing.”
He stood, too. “I know. That’s why I mentioned it. Before I left the hospital I went to see Loralee. She told me that you want her to come home with you, where she can be near Owen. Even with the hospice nurses, it will be hard on you. She asked me to take you out. To take your mind off of things.”
If anything, that made me feel worse. “She’s a saint, isn’t she? Even while she’s dying, she’s worried about other people.”
“True. But you’re the one who’s bringing her into your home.”
“Like I could leave her to die alone? Surrounded by strangers?” I shook my head. “Not even a consideration.”
He was looking at me steadily. “You don’t have to do this by yourself, you know. I’m here—call me anytime. Even if it’s just to shout at me because you need someone to shout at.”
I shook my head. “I’ll be fine.” Looking at my watch, I said, “I’ve got to pick up Owen and figure out what I’m going to say to him. I just have no idea what that’s going to be.” I began walking back the way I’d come, along the walkway that bordered the river, which no longer seemed so threatening in comparison to the other monsters out there.
His long strides caught up to me just as his cell phone rang. He answered it and spoke briefly before hanging up. He was silent for a moment, and I felt his brooding presence beside me.
“What?” I asked.
“Deborah found out something, but I told her it could wait.”
I stopped, breathing heavily as I realized I’d been practically running, feeling nearly sick to my stomach from the heat and the worry. The grief. “Is it something that might distract me from thinking about Loralee? Because maybe I need to hear it right now, if only so I don’t stand here in the middle of the walkway and throw up.”
Gibbes briefly looked behind me toward the water before turning back to me. “She found your grandfather’s death certificate. Cause of death was listed as a plane crash, July twenty-fifth, 1955.” He paused. “His was one of the two unclaimed bodies.”
“Unclaimed? But he was married. Why wouldn’t my grandmother claim his body?”
“That’s a very good question. And he’s buried in Saint Helena’s churchyard.”
“Here,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
I stared at Gibbes without really seeing him, thinking about the South Carolina AAA book I’d found in my grandmother’s things after she’d died, and the way Cal had spotted me on the street and followed me to the museum to meet me. How whenever he looked at me it seemed he was expecting to see somebody else.
“Are you all right? Do you need to sit down?” Gibbes asked.
“Please, I need to be alone.”