hey rode home in silence. Perhaps because too much had been said already, or perhaps because not enough. In any case, no one felt compelled to talk as they drove back over the rivers and across the still marsh and Sullivan’s Island to the Isle of Palms. The clouds were low and thick and few house lights pierced the velvety blackness.

Lovie sat in the back seat with Toy and saw the silhouette of her daughter in the dim car. Cara’s shoulders were back and she held the steering wheel with a tight grip. Lovie knew this pose so well. When she was upset as a child Cara would become quiet and rigid, thoroughly unapproachable. Palmer used to cry and make a fuss, but if anyone asked Cara how she was, she’d simply look away and reply, “Fine.”

When they arrived at the cottage, Cara politely opened the door for her mother, then moved quickly into the house, avoiding any discussion. By the time Lovie was inside, Cara had a glass of water in her hand. With a quick “Good-night” and a wave of her hand, she slipped into her room and closed the door.

“Well, I guess I’ll go to bed, too,” Toy said, cool and distant.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m just tired,” she replied, but kept her eyes averted.

Lovie watched her leave, saw the sway of her hips under the increasing weight of her growing baby. “Good night then, dear girl.”

Toy only nodded and went to her room.

Lovie walked slowly to the kitchen stove to light a kettle for tea. She laid out two mugs, spooned out the herbal tea into the pot, then she wiped her hands on the towel. When done, she leaned them against the counter and lowered her head with a ragged sigh. Her heart was breaking. These silences between herself and Cara were no good. There had been enough silence between them over the years. Too much, if truth be told. She couldn’t be weak any longer. Flo was right that they needed to talk. And there was no more time.

With new resolve she walked across the sisal rug directly to Cara’s door and knocked once. “Caretta?”

There was no answer.

“Cara?”

She heard the sound of footfall, then the door opened. Cara appeared in pale-blue silk pajama bottoms and a cotton camisole top. Her face was scrubbed clean and her dark hair gleamed from a good brushing. Behind her on the bed Lovie saw a suitcase spread open. It was half-packed. Cara ran her hands through her hair, then let them drop with an exasperated sigh.

“What is it, Mama?”

“I thought we might have that chat.”

“Now?” She paused, looked up at the ceiling, then shook her head. “I couldn’t. I’m too tired.” But, seeing the disappointment on Lovie’s face, she added more gently, “You must be, too. You look exhausted.”

“I am, rather. But I won’t sleep a wink unless we talk.”

“Talking has never been our forte.”

“No, it hasn’t.”

“Why now? Why tonight?”

Lovie’s gaze moved to the suitcase. “I should think it’s obvious. Besides, better to start late than not at all.”

“Maybe it is too late.”

“It’s never too late as long as there is breath in us to speak. Come. I’ve got a kettle on.”

They carried their mugs of steaming tea to the living room. Lovie turned on two small lamps that created soft, yellow pools of light and made the room feel cozy. Cara went to the sofa and eased onto the plump upholstery, curling her long, slender legs under her catlike in the corner. Her beautiful, dark eyes were watchful and wary. Lovie took the armchair across from her. Sinking into the cushions, she suddenly felt the weight of her fatigue and yawned.

“Do you want to do this tomorrow? It’s almost eleven o’clock,” said Cara.

“No, no, I’m just getting comfortable.”

“You should have told me,” Cara said when her mother settled.

How like her, Lovie thought, to jump right in and voice what was on both their minds. “I know. I meant to. But I hardly thought it would come up tonight.”

“Palmer thinks the reason I came home was to collect the family goods.”

“He’s a dear boy, and I don’t know what I would have done without him these past years, but he does keep his hand in the cookie jar. It’s his insecurity, I suppose. I’m partially to blame for that. I’ve given him whatever I could because Stratton…Well, you know how your father was. As hard as it was for you being his daughter, it was doubly hard for Palmer as his son.”

“Mama, I realize all that. But he is far too heavy-handed. Why do you put up with it? I mean—” she dropped her hand in exasperation “—it was one thing with Daddy. But Palmer is your son! Don’t you ever want to be independent? To know where your own money is?”

“I couldn’t care less where my money is,” she replied with astonishment. “I never have. Why should I? It’s nothing but a hassle and a headache. Your father always took care of the finances and bill paying when he was alive, and now that he’s gone, Palmer continues to do it for me.”

“And look what good all that trust has done you.”

“Palmer’s a good boy. He’s been here, Cara, all these years while you were away. I’m not saying that to berate you for your choice, but to defend Palmer.”

“Dear, dear Palmer.”

“Cara…”

“That’s always been the problem, hasn’t it? You taking Palmer’s side against mine.”

“I’m not taking sides,” she said wearily.

“Yes, you are! You just don’t realize it. You’ve done this all your life and it drives me crazy. You just sit there, Mama, and let them run over you. I can’t stand by anymore and watch you just cave in to the men in your life. Why can’t you be stronger?”

“Like you? I’m not like that. You’re very much like your father in that way.”

Cara stiffened as though slapped. “I am nothing like him.”

Lovie blinked at the vehemence of Cara’s response. “Does the comparison bother you so much? I’d always thought you preferred being compared to him rather than to me. Powerful rather than weak.”

“I’d rather not be held up to anyone for comparison. Least of all him.”

“Well,” she said dazed, exhaling a puff of air. “Well, well, well. Good for you. I don’t mean that snidely, I’m being quite honest. I wish I had been as strong when I was your age.”

“You should have been.”

Lovie closed her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Cara said after a beat, her voice beginning to rise with emotion. “I know the way he was. I know you loved him. I just never understood how that was enough for you to put up with his goddamn abuse for so many years.”

“You couldn’t understand,” her mother said in a strained voice.

“Why couldn’t I? I’m not a child. You loved him. I know that.” She brought her hand to her forehead and closed her eyes tightly before tearfully blurting out, “But I hated the son of a bitch.”

Lovie’s breath stilled, then she replied evenly, “Why, so did I.”

Cara dropped her hand and swung her head up. Neither spoke as they stared at each other, their thoughts journeying on separate paths. With a jerky motion, Cara turned to stare out the window.

Lovie quietly observed her daughter’s profile. With her proud, straight nose, high cheekbones and full lips, she strongly resembled the father she claimed to hate.

“Cara, can’t we talk through some of our misunderstandings?”

Cara wiped her eyes, then turned around again to face her mother. It pained Lovie to see the tears. She could count the times on one hand she’d ever seen her daughter cry.

“I came home hoping for just that. I actually had some silly vision of a mother-daughter bonding. Imagine that?” Her quick smile fell and she added wearily, “It’s okay, it doesn’t matter.” She took a deep breath. “I’m going back to Chicago tomorrow.”

Lovie heard the north in her voice already. “So soon?”

“It’s clear you don’t need my help here and frankly, I left a mess I need to clean up at home. I can’t sit around here any longer.”

“Oh, Cara. You’re hurt.”

“No. I’m fine. I just need to refocus.”

Lovie took a long shuddering breath. “You think you’ve been abandoned. That everything has been handed to Palmer and nothing to you.”

“Mother, please…”

“You asked me what I meant when I wrote to you that there were things to sort through. There are.” She drank some tea, was comforted by it, then set the mug on the table. She felt secure in this little cottage, better able to speak her mind than in the Charleston house.

“After your father died,” she began, “I decided to move out here to the beach house. It wasn’t an impulsive decision. It was a promise I’d made to myself long before. Sort of a gift that I kept in the back of my mind to unwrap and think about in difficult times.”

Cara looked into her mother’s pale-blue eyes and wondered about those difficult times. “Why did you wait so long?”

“I had my reasons. But I planned for it. Why do you think I redid the kitchen years back?”

“I’d assumed to make it a rental.”

“That’s what I told Stratton. I knew he’d agree if I presented it as an investment.” She smiled conspiratorially. “But it was for me. I wanted to live alone and the beach house is much more manageable for someone my age. Without all those fussy antiques. Here I’m free of all the…” She sighed, grasping for the word.

“Hassles?” Cara prompted.

“Distractions. You always understood that, I think. You never put much store in a house or furniture. I admire that about you.”

Cara was surprised by the unexpected compliment.

Lovie’s expression shifted as she reflected on private thoughts. “I spent forty years in that big house,” she said slowly. “And let me tell you, those charming old houses everyone always admires are not easy to maintain. I was a slave to it. There’s always painting or wiring or plumbing or plasterwork that needs doing. I promise you, a good plasterer is worth his weight in gold in this town. Women I’ve known for years have gone to the grave without whispering their source. I’d had enough of worrying and dusting antiques and drawing shades against the sun. And Lord knows I’d had enough of entertaining.”

“I thought you loved that house.”

“I did, for a while. I’m talking about more than just the house. There, I had a role to fulfill in society as your father’s wife, your and Palmer’s mother, an active member of my church, schools, business. There was an endless demand on my time. Invitations and thank-yous, political drives and cultural events, endless telephone calls and meeting someone for this or that, preparing meals, cleaning up after meals, doctors, dentists, the garden, shopping. There was always a button that needed sewing or a plant that needed watering. And driving. Lord, the driving! I spent years in carpools, then more years worrying about you and Palmer driving, and then the final insult, worrying about Stratton’s and my own skills behind the wheel as we aged.

“A woman’s life has so many demands because she is the axis around which so many little planets spin. I did it and, yes, there were countless delightful moments. But that part of my life died when Stratton did.”

Her voice was firm on this point. Lovie turned to allow her gaze to travel lazily over the yellow cottage. She breathed deeply and when she spoke, it was heartfelt. “If I made one mistake, Cara, it’s that I did not allow enough time for solitude every day. A quiet time to reflect, to pray, to refill my well. I was so very busy. In that big house every minute was so consumed that I simply dried up inside. I suppose I could point to people and events and cast blame, but in my heart I know that this was my own responsibility, not anyone else’s.” Her face brightened. “Except, I did come here in my summers. This place saved me. I love it here. I always have. I feel freer, happier. Like it’s summer inside of me every day of the year.”

Cara leaned forward, peering into this window to her mother’s personality that she’d never looked through before. “That’s the way I’ve always felt here, too.”

“Is it? I always believed that about you. And that you understand how important Primrose Cottage is. To us and to the family.”

“Hmm,” Cara replied, not willing to link herself to strong family sentiments. “It’s nice, talking with you like this. We don’t do it often enough.”

“Then stay.”

“Mother, I can’t. I’m not a little girl anymore. I don’t get summers off.”

“You’re still my little girl.”

“This isn’t a good time for a vacation. I have a lot going on. I can’t explain it all right now. Maybe next year.”

“No. Not next year, Cara. This year.”

Cara uncurled her legs, rose and walked to her mother. Reaching out, she took Lovie’s hand. “I’m sorry, Mama. I can’t. I’m all packed up and will leave at dawn.”

“You’re going so early?”

“I really must get back.”

“If you stay a few more days, we could—”

“I left my home, my bills…. I have to earn a living, Mama. If I leave tomorrow real early I can get back in a day.”

“I see. Will you come back soon?”

“I’ll try.”

Lovie dropped Cara’s hand. She knew it wouldn’t happen and felt inexpressibly old and woeful. “You go on to bed, dear. I’m just going to finish my tea.”

The night was blowsy but it was a good thing. The wind moved the clouds that had blanketed the sky earlier like a giant eraser. The stars now sparkled in a clear sky and made one understand why generations had so often compared them to diamonds.

Stepping out from the screened porch Lovie raised her chin and saw that the Big Dipper was so clear little Cooper could play connect the dots. Still, the path through the tangled lot would be treacherous. Lovie flicked on her special flashlight that glowed a soft red that would not disturb the turtles, wrapped an old sweater around her shoulders, then headed out toward the beach. It was very late, past midnight, but she was deeply troubled and overcome with lassitude.

She needed to walk. Being old, she couldn’t walk as far as she would have liked. Being tired, she would most likely just rest a bit on the sand. But this pacing in the sand was the only easing of her soul she had at her disposal now that Russell was gone.

Dear Russell…Oh, how she missed him and his gentle counsel. He had been her dearest friend and love, and if he were alive she would tell him all about the mess she’d made of things with Cara and ask for his advice. Her thoughts were full of him as she followed the thin stream of light that snaked ahead of her. She walked one foot in front of the other along the narrow path, careful for vines that could trip her and leave her stranded all night with a broken hip. Wouldn’t Palmer have a fit then!

She climbed the small dune that peaked where the beach stretched up to meet it. At the top she sank gratefully to her knees, warm with exertion. It was horrible, this getting old. She used to run along this same path to the beach then straight into the sea for a long, vigorous swim before she even felt the need to catch a breath. Putting her hand to her chest she chuckled. Goodness, it didn’t seem all that long ago.

She slipped off her Keds and dug her toes deep into the cool sand, then flexed her fingers to do the same. This was her favorite roosting spot. On this bit of land she could sit for long periods of time and feel close to all that was dear to her heart: the sea, the sand, this land. And all this was dear because it brought her close to Russell.

She lay back into the sand and, closing her eyes, imagined she felt his arms around her again. The older she became the easier it was to feel his presence. It was a game she allowed herself to play more often now. She couldn’t see the harm. If she was going senile, what of it? She’d likely die before she went totally gaga. Besides, it was too much of a comfort to resist.

In her imagination, she and Russell were lying together again on the old black-and-red checked blanket she’d always dragged along from the cottage when she met him on this dune. Back then, Russell’s hair was so blond it appeared white against his leathery tan from hours of field research in the sun. She remembered how his skin was both smooth and callused in spots. Her own skin was soft and pliant in those days and she wore her long, thick blond hair twisted in a braid during the day. At night, however, Russell would slowly unwind the skein and spread her hair out upon the blanket to look at it. He said it reflected the gold of the moonlight.

She had been only thirty-nine and he forty-one. She’d clung to him with the knowledge that they had only that one golden summer to treasure. For she had a husband and he had a wife. They had families and social standing. Commitments they could not—would not—break, no matter how tempted they might be. They had both understood from the onset that their love affair could not continue into the fall.

This small bit of land on the deserted bit of island had been their oasis. Back then, no houses overlooked their haven. No lights shone except for the moon. Around the lovers the sea oats clicked. Above them, the stars watched and winked in sympathy. If she closed her eyes tight, Lovie could imagine he was here with her. If she let her mind go very still, she could hear Russell’s voice, his delicate Southern accent that was sweet to her ears.

“Russell, I am all confused,” she said aloud. “Did you hear Palmer tell how much this piece of land is worth now? I had no idea it would ever be so valuable. You know what a comfort it has been to me all these years of such loneliness and want of affection. I feel close to you here, and wouldn’t part with this land for the world. But I am dying now. I will be leaving this world soon. What am I to do with this land? I have to decide. Did you hear Palmer go on about wanting to buy this land? Should I tell him that it’s mine? He would surely sell it—after he danced a jig. It would break my heart, but it would be a lot of money. Just think what I could do with so much money!”

What would you do?

“Oh, if I were only young again, I would travel! There’s so much of the world I would like to have seen. But I’m too old for that now and too ill to manage the trip. I don’t care much for clothes. I’m giving away all my jewelry. At this point in my life, I see all possessions as just more stuff, as Cara called it. Meaningless! Worse than meaningless. They are distractions. Yet I feel so responsible. It is an awful lot of money that might mean something to my children.”

You will have given them each a piece of property.

“That’s more than many children ever get. Then there are my grandchildren. The money could give them a leg up when they’re grown. Help them with tuition, a down payment on a house, that sort of thing. It would be nice to be remembered fondly. And, of course, there’s Toy. I really must help Toy.

“Oh, but what should I do? If I leave the land to my grandchildren, people will wonder where it came from. Questions would be asked and eventually answers would be uncovered. I’ve sacrificed too much for too long to lose my dignity, our privacy, at the end.”

Privacy or secrecy?

“Is there a difference?”

Privacy is something that we maintain for the good of ourselves and others. Secrecy we keep to separate ourselves from others, even those we love.

“But I only want to protect my family!”

But you have succeeded in dividing them.

“Tell me, my love, what do you think I should do?”

You know what I would do.

“I do. You always intended to leave the land to the Conservancy. I want to, but I’m not sure if it’s the right thing. And I’d need someone who I can trust to help me.”

Cara?

“Cara is leaving.”

She is still here now. You should talk to her. You know you want to.

“There’s no time. She’s leaving tomorrow. It would take a miracle.”

Miracles happen every day.

“Where are you going? Please, don’t leave me.”

I’ll never leave you.

“Russell!” She sat up and reached for him. Lifting her hand, the sand sifted slowly through her fingers until it was gone.

She was alone again and knew that she could not wish him back. Bereft, she leaned her elbows against her knees and tightened the sweater around her shoulders. The bright moon gave the beach a silvery glow and the earlier wind had swept the sand like a broom, leaving it smooth as pavement. The tide was coming in. She could see the white ruffled edges of the waves as they cascaded upon the shoreline.

With a jolt, she peered at the edge of the water. She thought she saw something moving out there. The waves rolled in, then back again, leaving bits of luminescent plankton, shells and seaweed in its wake. Lovie remained quiet, her heart pounding, not daring to move and scare away the large, shadowy hulk emerging like a great, prehistoric creature from the sea.

Yes, it was a loggerhead!

At the water’s edge the turtle lifted her head, arching her neck as if sniffing the air. Then she lowered her beak, poking it into the sand. Lovie could only guess she was tapping into some ancient, instinct-stored information that would guide her. She waited breathlessly for the turtle to make her decision. At last, with a slow, dragging shuffle, the loggerhead plowed her way onto the beach straight in Lovie’s direction. Every few steps the turtle stopped, contending with the effects of gravity on her three-hundred-plus pounds of weight. Foot by foot the turtle persevered in her sluggish gait, lurching forward, then stopping to gasp for breath.

It would take time for the loggerhead to make its way up the beach and Lovie had a moment’s inspiration. Very slowly she swung her legs around and crawled down the opposite side of the dune. With a hunched back she hurried down the dune, not turning on her flashlight lest she scare the loggerhead. She scurried across the path as fast as she could back to her beach house.

This time she didn’t knock on Cara’s door. She went into the bedroom, past the suitcase at the foot of the bed, put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder and gently rocked her.

“Cara. Cara, wake up.”

Cara awoke with a jolt, her breath hitching and her eyes opening wide in a startled expression.

“It’s me, honey. Wake up. There’s something I want you to see. Hurry now.”

“Whatisit?” she slurred, looking around the room.

“Come on. Put on your jeans. A turtle has come ashore. You don’t want to miss this.”

“Oh, Mama…”

She cajoled and hurried a sleepy Cara into her jeans, T-shirt and sandals, and with her heart beating joyfully in her chest, led her daughter out into the cool, moist night. In single file they hurried along the path to the sea. Lovie’s eyes were accustomed to the dark and she led the way quickly. As they neared the dune, she turned to put her finger to her lips and slowed to a crawl as they rounded the hill and came out on the beach.

The tide had inched back and the smooth sand was scarred by a long, wide furrow of turtle tracks from the water’s edge high up near the dunes. In the silence, Lovie could hear the scrape of the turtle’s digging. Following the line of tracks, she found the loggerhead. The creature was magnificent. Sand flew into the air in great gusts, spraying sand like confetti.

Lovie heard Cara’s gasp behind her and guided her to a spot hidden by a dune. The turtle worked without pause to dig the egg chamber, using one rear flipper to scoop out the sand and another flipper to brush the mound away in an ancient ritual, over and over for almost an hour. Then she stilled and a deep silence again reigned. Signaling with her hand, Lovie led Cara closer now, for it was said that, once the mother began laying her eggs, she went into a trance and was less likely to stop until her work was done.

It was a perfect night, with little wind and a bright moon to light the area like a theater. Lovie felt the excitement she always felt at the sight. No one knew at what time or where a loggerhead would come ashore. Even with vigilance, seeing this was a matter of luck.

And God’s grace, she thought, whispering a prayer of thanks for this small miracle. She looked at Cara’s face. It was as still and watchful as a child’s and Lovie smiled to herself. She’d made the right decision to fetch her, she thought. She knew her daughter would always remember the night they shared this ancient ritual of the loggerhead for which she’d been named.

They sat shoulder to shoulder during the next hour and Lovie felt that their silence bonded them now rather than divided them. From time to time Cara would look over to her to exchange a glance, their eyes gleaming like the moon overhead. The loggerhead was steadfast as one by one more than one hundred leathery eggs slipped into the sand. While she worked, great streams of salty tears flowed down from her eyes.

A mother’s tears, Lovie thought to herself. The tears of duty, love and commitment. The tears of resignation and acceptance. And, too, the tears of abandonment. For this sea turtle would finish laying her eggs then leave the nest, never to return.

Don’t cry, Mother, she silently said to the turtle. Didn’t all mothers abandon their children at some time? Soon she, too, would leave her own children, never to return.

What did scientists know, explaining those tears away as a mere cleansing of the eye? A woman saw those turtle tears and instinctively knew that the turtle mother wept for her children. A mother knew of all the predators that awaited her young, of the swift currents that might lead them astray, of the dazzle of dangerous lights, of the complicated nets that could entangle them and of the many years of solitary swimming. She wept because she could not protect them from their fate.

Lovie lifted her hand to wipe away the tears from her own face, feeling a powerful kinship with the beautiful beast before her. They were like old friends, having a good cry together.

Then Cara squeezed her hand and all at once it no longer felt so sad. Such was the way of nature. Like the Bible said, there was nothing new under the sun. There was a time for being born, for giving birth, and a time for dying.

The turtle finished laying her eggs and began shoveling sand into the nest with her hind flippers. Then she turned and tossed sand violently to camouflage her treasures. They stepped back, giving her a wide berth to finish hiding her nest and crawl back to the sea.

Lovie and Cara were her honor guard, walking quietly behind her. Each movement seemed a colossal effort and her shell scraped the sand as it dragged. She paused frequently to breathe and raise her head as though sniffing out the sea. The nearer she drew to the water, however, the more vigorous she became. The new energy and excitement in the turtle was contagious.

Lovie sensed the turtle’s relief when it reached saltwater. A wave washed away the coating of sand and her gorgeous reddish-brown carapace shone like fabulous armor in the moonlight.

“You’re home free!” Cara called out to the turtle.

The moon was now high over the ocean, creating a long ribbon of light that appeared as a road for the turtle to follow home. Lovie and Cara had walked all this way to the water’s edge with her, agonized each step with her, but now they could go no farther.

Lovie watched the turtle lumber forward into the sea. As she became buoyant in the saltwater, her strong flippers began to stroke and in that miraculous instant the turtle shed her earthly burdens and was transformed from a plodding, hulking beast to a creature of great grace and beauty. She raised her head once more, as though to say farewell, then dove beneath the surface and was gone.

Lovie stepped forward into the water after her. She felt an inexpressible urge to go with her. Beyond, she sensed a great, deep unknown. Out there, under the surface, lay a vast otherworld filled with mysteries and beauty. Transfixed, she wanted to follow the turtle down that ribbon of moonlight.

“Mama? Come back. You’re going out too far.”

Lovie blinked and looked down. The water was up to her knees and the hem of her skirt floated around her.

“Why, I’ve barely noticed. I was watching her. But she’s gone now.”

“Here, take my hand.”

“Wasn’t she beautiful?”

“Breathtakingly beautiful. I never imagined it could be so magical.”

Lovie came out from the water to stand by her daughter. “It is, isn’t it? I’ve seen it many times, but each time is like the first.”

“I wonder what it’s like out there,” Cara said wistfully, standing at the shoreline with her arms wrapped around herself and her eyes searching the sea. “Look at it. It’s so vast. To just slip under like that…I can’t imagine.”

“I imagine it’s rather like death. You want to go with her, you’re curious, but to do so you’d have to cross that slender, elusive barrier that separates the two worlds. A little death, that’s all it would take. One step, one final breath, then you’d be floating.”

“Well, I’m not ready for that particular journey yet, thank you very much. Just making it back to the house seems far enough for tonight.” Cara turned and took a few steps back up the shore.

“Cara?”

She stopped and looked around. “Yes?”

“I’ll be making that journey soon.”

Cara’s face froze in puzzlement. “What?”

“I have cancer. I know that sounds dramatic but I can’t think of an easy way to say it. So, there it is.”

In the stunned silence myriad emotions flickered across her face. “No!” she exploded. Cara took a step forward, then stopped abruptly, shaking her head in confusion. “Cancer? What kind of cancer?”

“It’s lung cancer.”

“But you don’t smoke! Not for years.”

“I know, I said the same thing when I found out. But the damage was done. I’ve already gone through a round of radiation therapy.” She heard Cara’s sharp intake of breath. “It was never the cure. We were just buying a little time.”

“How long have you known?”

“For some time. Since December.”

“How bad is it?”

“I’m afraid it’s quite bad. Simply put, I’m dying.”

Shocked, Cara said nothing.

Lovie reached out her hand. “My dear, you’ve gone white.”

Cara brought her own hand to her head to clutch her hair in a fist. “Dying. Dying? Why didn’t you call me? I would have come home immediately!”

“I didn’t want you to come home only because I was sick.”

“Sick? You just said you’re dying.”

“Yes.”

“Wait. Let’s back up a minute,” she said in a tone that Lovie recognized as her daughter’s effort to table her emotions and be practical and efficient. “How do you know you’re dying? Who have you seen? There are new procedures. Other hospitals we can go to. I know of an oncologist—”

“Cara, stop. There’s nothing that can be done—other than to put my house in order. That’s what I’ve been trying to do, though I’ve been making quite a mess of it. I’m sorry about what happened at Palmer’s tonight. I should have told you but I simply wanted for us to have a little time together first without bringing up the topic of who gets what after I die. That’s such a waste of time, and I have so little time left. Oh, Cara, don’t you see? It’s like watching that turtle slip into the sea. She’s finally free of the earthly burdens. That’s what I yearn for. But I know I have to settle my affairs before I go. I want to spend what time I have left getting to know you again.”

Cara went very still and tears glistened in her eyes. “That’s why you wanted me to come home? That’s the sorting out?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Mama…” Cara slumped down onto the sand and covered her face with her hands. “It feels as though the earth just dropped away from my feet. It’s so unreal. Just the other day I was feeling so sorry for myself. I wondered what else the gods could do to me. But I never thought it could be this. Not now. Not yet.”

“Don’t cry,” Lovie said, crouching close to her daughter. Her own tears streamed down her cheeks. “Didn’t we have fun tonight? I thought we shared something very special.”

Cara nodded, wiped her face with her palms. “We did. Yes, we did.”

“I wish Palmer could have been here, too.”

“Does Palmer know?”

“No one knows except Florence and Toy. They’ve been helping me through these past months of treatment. But the radiation is finished now and I hope—I pray—I have this one last summer.”

“This summer? That’s all?”

“It’s enough. Cara, I know I’m terribly selfish to ask this, but please stay with me. Just for this summer? I know how difficult it is for you to get away from work for so much time, but if you could see your way clear to do it…”

Cara took a long ragged breath and looked out at the stars. All the crazy pieces of the past few weeks tumbled together to guide her to this answer. She took her mother’s hand and squeezed it gently, causing her to smile with hope.

“Of course I’ll stay, for as long as you need me. I’ll take care of you. I won’t leave you, I promise.”

“But your job?”

“Don’t worry about that. Oh, Mama, I have a lot to explain to you, too.”

The turtle uses her hind flippers in an elaborate digging ritual, alternately digging out scoops of sand to create an egg chamber eighteen to twenty-two inches deep.