Owen snorted and she sent him a stern glance. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. She’s been through a lot and thinks that moving to a new place means all the bad stuff gets left behind. But it doesn’t. We travel with the same packed bags we’ve always had, until we take the time to unpack them.”
She glanced to the small laminate table where her pink journal sat, recalling what she’d written in it just that morning. There are times when fear needs to be in the driver’s seat. The best learning and growing happens when wisdom is won from pain. And then she’d written, Brush your teeth every morning and every night before you go to bed. Clean teeth and fresh breath will give you a reason to smile. She figured practical advice should go in her Journal of Truths, too.
“Is that why we’re here? To help her?”
Loralee stared into those beautiful eyes and saw his father. “Mostly,” she said softly, turning her focus to slicing the tomatoes for the sandwiches.
The doorbell rang and Owen ran toward the kitchen door but stopped. “I forgot. Maris is with him.”
“Either way, you need to answer the door.”
He looked so panic-stricken that she wiped her hands on a paper towel. “Wash your hands and then put a handful of chips into five plastic bags. I’ll go get the door.”
Merritt had already opened the door, where Gibbes and Maris waited. She greeted the little girl with a warm smile, but looked oddly at the doctor. Ever since they’d gone up into the attic, there had been a strange undercurrent between them, like two fiddler crabs who’d decided that walking sideways didn’t suit them anymore, yet were unsure how to walk any other way.
Loralee stepped forward, trying to ease the awkwardness. “So glad you could join us today, Maris. And thank you, Dr. Heyward, for allowing Owen to bring a friend. Maris, I spoke to your mother and she assured me that you’re a great swimmer and a regular on a boat.”
“Yes, ma’am. We have a motorboat that we like to swim and waterski from—not at the same time, of course—and we usually go sailing with my uncle when the weather’s good. I also like to go shrimping and crabbing, and I always catch more than my brother even though he’s two years older. Mama says she thinks I was born with webbed feet, because I love the water so much, even though I love horses just as much.”
She apparently had used a single breath to get all the words out, her cheeks pink from the exertion.
“That’s good to know. Owen’s in the kitchen helping make lunches. Why don’t you go back and join him?”
The little girl’s eyes lit up, and Loralee noticed they were the same color as her sparkly blue bathing suit and cover-up and the sequined bows on her flip-flops. Her hair was braided again and held back with blue ribbons. She held a beach bag that was almost as big as Maris, with a horse emblazoned on its side.
“Yes, ma’am!” Without further prompting she ran toward the back of the house, where an unsuspecting Owen waited.
Before the kitchen door swung shut behind Maris, Loralee added, “And please tell him that Merritt is downstairs.”
Loralee closed the front door, wondering whether Merritt had taken the time to admire Gibbes in his Bermuda swim shorts that exposed his tanned and muscular legs. He wore a white T-shirt that fit him just fine, and if Merritt hadn’t noticed, then Loralee had more work ahead of her than she’d thought.
Turning to Gibbes, she said, “Our picnic is almost ready. Just give us about five minutes to get it all packed up.”
On cue, Owen came from the kitchen, closely trailed by Maris. After a quick glance at his mother, he turned to Merritt. “Where’s your bathing suit?”
Merritt looked down at her skirt and blouse as if expecting to see something different. “I’m not going. I have too much to do here.”
His face fell, and for a moment Loralee thought he might cry. He was really working for his twenty dollars, and he might even get a tip with this performance. “But I really, really want you to come with us. It won’t be any fun without you. And Mama said she wasn’t feeling good, and if she has to leave we all have to go home early, because it’s not safe for just Dr. Heyward and two kids to be on the boat.”
He used the puppy-dog eyes that he usually reserved for getting extra dessert, and Loralee admired his ad-libbing. She would definitely have to give him a tip.
Merritt looked at him as a person would look at a yipping little dog, unsure whether it was just for show or a real threat. “That’s very nice of you to say, but I’m just not comfortable in a boat. . . .”
Gibbes cleared his throat. “I thought we’d take my jonboat. Stick to the small waterways. Maybe explore the creeks and see if we can spot any turtles.”
“I love the turtles,” Maris said, jumping up and down. And then, as if she were in on Loralee’s plans, she said, “I’d really be sad if we couldn’t stay long because Mrs. Connors got sick.” Her dimples were even more pronounced when she frowned, which didn’t make any sense at all.