“Never?” Heather asked, surprised. “Not even growing up? Not a dog or a cat? Not even a hamster?”
Cara shook her head. “My father forbade animals in the house, and my mother was only interested in wild animals outside. And then I was always working. . . .” She turned and bent closer to the birdcage and began making soft kissing noises. Moutarde jumped from perch to perch, cocking his head and flirting with Cara with his shiny black eyes, all the while offering his questioning chirp. Cara turned back to Heather.
“Are you serious?” she asked hesitatingly. “You’d really give him to me?”
For a moment, Heather regretted her offer. She loved Moutarde. He had the most personality of all her birds. He was the first to greet her in the morning and the last to bid her good night. Yet the thought of leaving Cara all alone in a quiet house was unbearable. She couldn’t stand to think that Cara would slip back into the abyss of loneliness. At least with Moutarde, she would have something to look after and care for, and in return Moutarde would fill her days with joyful song. She loved Moutarde—but she loved Cara more.
She nodded resolutely. “Yes.”
“Oh, Heather. I’d love to keep him. You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. He’d be brokenhearted to leave you anyway.” Heather’s face fell. “As will I.”
Cara came to hug Heather. “Thank you,” she said close to her ear. “This means more than I can ever tell you.” When she stepped back, Cara said, “Do you have to leave, Heather? You know you can stay here.”
Heather sighed. As the August days had worn on and the commission deadline drew ever closer, she’d become more and more aware that her time on Isle of Palms and at Primrose was all too swiftly drawing toward its end. “Cara, you know I’d love to. But I really need to go home. My father expects me, and he’s already been so generous that I don’t want to disappoint him. But I admit it’s going to be very hard to leave. I can’t even think about it or I’ll break down in tears. I love it here.” Her gaze swept the room. “I love this house.”
Cara nodded and cocked her head to the side as though contemplating something, then tucked a dark lock of hair behind her ear. “Do you still have dreams of my mother?”
Heather was startled by the question. She had been warned by Flo not to mention her dreams to Cara, but in truth, she hadn’t had any more. She hadn’t realized it until this moment.
“No,” she replied honestly. Then she added, “I guess she knows I don’t need her anymore.”
“And the scent?”
Heather shook her head. “Whenever I smell jasmine, it’s you.”
Cara laughed self-consciously, acknowledging that she’d begun wearing her mother’s scent.
“But Lovie is still here,” Heather said in a serious tone, looking around as though she expected to see a ghost. “I feel her presence in every nook and cranny of this beach house. It’s a calming presence. Serene. Like looking at a bouquet of fresh flowers.” She hesitated, then asked Cara, “Do you?”
Cara’s face grew solemn. “I do,” she replied in a soft voice filled with quiet conviction.
Heather looked at her watch. “Look at the time. I’d better get cleaned up. Natalie should be here very soon.”
Cara was immediately protective. “Are you okay having your stepmother visit?”
“Please. Don’t call her my stepmother,” Heather said with a feigned shudder. “She’ll never be any kind of mother to me.” She scowled. “But I have to be polite. She is married to my father.”
Cara asked, her face half averted, “Why is she coming here? Alone?”
“My father is on a business trip and I suspect she’s making an effort. I could hardly say no. She’s not staying here, thank God. I don’t think I could’ve handled that. For that matter, I doubt she could, either. She has never really liked me. Nor I her,” she admitted honestly. Heather unconsciously began to wring her hands. “We aren’t exactly on the best of terms,” she added with a nervous laugh. “She let me know she has a hotel reservation in Charleston. I’m sure the city will be much more to her liking than the island.”
Cara looked at Heather’s clenched hands. “You don’t have to do this alone. I know it’s hard for you. I can hang around if you like. Be the obnoxious roommate.”
Heather laughed at the very idea of Cara playing the obnoxious roommate. “You can tell I’m nervous?”
“Honey, you’re coiled like a wire about to spring.”
It was true. Heather felt her heart pounding just at the thought of having to chat with Natalie one-on-one. Cara’s offer was certainly tempting—having her there would make things easier. She would be able to fill in the awkward moments skillfully. A voice in her head told Heather to accept the offer. There was no way she would be able to deal with Natalie alone without doing something stupid or collapsing into her nice-girl mode and agreeing with everything she said. But a newfound strength emerged and quieted the negative voice. She hesitated. Then she said something she’d never thought she’d say.
“Thanks. But I can handle it.”
Cara lifted her brows and smiled approvingly. “All right, then.” She turned and crooned to Moutarde with renewed spirit: “Oh, you sweet boy. I’m going to spoil you rotten.”
Heather smiled as she faced her painting and looked at the bright eyes of the sandpiper on her canvas. This had been a summer of discovery. While her caged birds had shown her how to sing, outdoors the wild birds had revealed to her what it meant to be free. Heather felt a sense of knowing wash over her. One that left her skin tingling, her blood racing, her heart pumping with certitude.
Chapter Twenty-Two
HEATHER SHOWERED, PUT on a freshly ironed Lilly dress that she knew would please Natalie, and carefully applied some makeup despite the challenge her shaky hands posed. She sprayed herself with scent and, after a final approving glance in the mirror, went to the kitchen to set out a plate of fruit and cheese. Natalie didn’t eat “anything white,” as she put it, so most crackers were not acceptable to her diet. She was driving from Charlotte and had announced she would arrive in time to take Heather to dinner, so Heather figured she would just set out a small aperitif in case Natalie expected some pre-dinner drinks and conversation.
“Don’t cook,” Natalie had instructed on the phone. “Let me take you out. Pick out the best restaurant on the island.”
Heather sat on the sofa reading a paperback romance to distract her while she waited, but the next half hour was exhausting as she tried to silence the critical voice in her head telling her this was going to be awful, that it was a mistake to let Natalie come. With every excruciating minute that passed, she felt her anxiety growing.
Natalie had told her five o’clock, and at precisely that hour the doorbell rang. Heather almost jumped out of her skin. She took a belly breath, then walked to the front door with smooth, even strides.