“Remember—your weight should be toward the balls of your feet, and you’re supposed to pretend that your shoes are magnets and the dance floor is made of metal, so that you just sort of shuffle through the steps.” Gibbes smiled as I ran into him again before stepping back with my left foot.
I allowed myself to laugh and to make mistakes, becoming bolder as Gibbes laughed along with me, gently leading me instead of criticizing me. A thought occurred to me, and I stopped moving, causing Gibbes to pull me toward him and off the dance floor so we wouldn’t get trampled by the other dancers.
“Are you all right?” he asked, concern in his voice. “Can I get you something to drink? Or eat?”
“No, thanks. I’m just hot. Can we go sit on one of those benches on the boardwalk?”
I took out a tissue from my small evening purse—the purse borrowed from Loralee and the wad of tissues suggested by her—and handed one to Gibbes, then took one for myself. It was full dark now, the lights from the boats on the water twinkling like fireflies.
I tilted my head back and pressed the tissue against my face and neck, finally understanding why Loralee insisted on waterproof makeup in the summertime. “I just realized something—something about your grandmother. She made a lot of mistakes, but she did right by you. Maybe she’s the reason you’re a good pediatrician, and the kind of person who accepts—although grudgingly—his brother’s widow even when he thinks he probably shouldn’t.” I shrugged. “It’s something to think about, anyway.”
“Maybe,” he said, seeming to weigh the word and what it might mean slowly in his head. “What’s making you so philosophical tonight?”
I leaned back on the bench and noticed the nearly full moon, pregnant with possibilities and the power to conduct the music of the tides. I kept my gaze focused on the moon, at the way it sheltered us all from the dark like a mother’s hand, and let it bathe me in its blue glow. “You. And Loralee. This place, too.”
I imagined for a moment Edith at her attic window, looking out at the same moon, attempting to protect a woman she’d never met, and setting off a chain of events she could never have foreseen. And I thought of my own grandmother, lost and alone, making the only choice she believed she had to protect her daughter—my mother—and inadvertently damaging so many lives. There were no heroes in their story, but neither were there any villains. And nobody had learned anything. Yes, I thought. That was the sticking point. I couldn’t nudge myself past it with the belief that it had all been so pointless. Both Edith and my grandmother were gone. What good could come from resurrecting their ghosts?
“Do you really believe that everything happens for a reason?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “But I also believe in free will. That our lives are what we make them.”
Our eyes met, the glow of the moon filling the space between us, and all doubt left me. He leaned forward for another kiss, and my phone rang. I jerked back, quickly scrambling to retrieve it from my bag, knowing it could only be Owen or Loralee.
I looked down at the unknown number, identifying only the Beaufort area code. When I answered, I recognized Nurse Stelle’s voice immediately, and suddenly it seemed as if the moon had fallen from the sky.
*
I didn’t remember how we got back to the house, only that we must have run the whole way without stopping. I didn’t even recall digging out my key or putting it in the lock or running up the stairs. My whole memory of that awful night was just of Loralee’s peaceful expression, the hint of one of her glorious smiles still lingering around her mouth.
She looked as if she were still sleeping, and I half expected her to tell me to turn on the television or put on some lipstick. The pretty pink-and-lace nightgown I’d bought for her at Victoria’s Secret lay loose around her neck, making her look like a little girl wearing her mother’s clothes. I felt Gibbes behind me, his hands strong on my shoulders.
The nurse stood and I saw she’d been crying. She’d known Loralee for only a short while, but I suppose Loralee had that effect on most people. She wasn’t somebody one easily forgot. “I already called her doctor, and the coroner is on his way.”
I nodded, not sure I could trust my voice.
She cleared her throat. “I see this a lot, when a patient knows it’s time but they don’t want to upset their loved ones. They wait until everybody’s where they want them to be.” She sniffed and brought a tissue to the corners of her eyes. “I hope it brings you some comfort to know that she didn’t die alone. It was so sudden, like . . . like she knew. She reached for my hand and I held it the whole time, and then she smiled at me, closed her eyes, and went to sleep. It was so peaceful and quick, I didn’t have time to call you. But I think she wanted it that way.”