oy woke early. She couldn’t sleep in even if she wanted to. The baby was growing fast now and pressing down on her bladder so that she had to pee all the time. There was so much that was changing in her body. Her belly was really starting to stick out there and her breasts were enormous. Darryl would have liked that, she thought, then her smile fell.

Last night she’d sat alone in the Rutledge’s TV room while in the dining room the others talked and talked. She’d hated being stuck in that house, hated having to wait, then pretend she didn’t hear nothing. Well, she’d heard plenty. Every word that pompous, pig-faced Palmer had said about her. And she’d heard what wasn’t said, too.

It was Cara who stood up for her. Cara who let her brother have it right between the eyes. Toy still felt the same wonder and awe just remembering it. The ice queen—who’d have thought?

All night long she’d wrestled with the thought that she should go back to Darryl. She’d dreamed about him, too. His nice smile, the way he was so protective of her and was always looking out for her.

He’d never let someone talk about her the way Palmer Rutledge did. But that wasn’t the only reason she was thinking of going back to Darryl. Her insides hurt so bad that Lovie hadn’t said a word to hush up her son. He’d said some real hurtful things that were not true. Did he think that just because she was poor she would steal? That’s what so many rich people thought, that poor folks didn’t know the difference between right and wrong. She’d never steal from Miss Lovie! As if! It sounded to her like he was trying to steal from his own mother, taking something that didn’t belong to him out of pure and simple greed. To her mind, that was as low as anyone could go, rich or poor. It wasn’t as if he didn’t get nothing already. Jeez, if someone gave her a house like that she’d be set for life.

Not that anyone ever would. People like her didn’t live in houses like that. She didn’t want it anyway. All she really wanted was a nice, clean place that was sunny and she could fix up the way Lovie taught her with pretty tablecloths and matching dishes and some lace at the window. She’d make it a happy place, too, for her baby and Darryl. She was good at making people happy and knew he’d want them both back. He just needed a little time to get over the shock of her being pregnant and all. ‘Cause that’s all it was, a shock. He didn’t mean to hit her or say those things. He was a good man and she knew he loved her. He’d love her baby, too, once he saw it. She just knew it.

So she thought maybe she should call him today and sort of see how he felt about her coming back. Even if she’d told Miss Lovie she wouldn’t.

She thought these things while she washed her face and squeezed into one of her A-line dresses. She tsked when she saw the seam tearing at the waist. Walking down the hall she tried reaching down her back to tug on the zipper that strained at the task. Then she stopped, sniffing the air. Was that coffee she smelled?

“Good morning!” Cara looked up and smiled when Toy stepped into view.

Toy was so taken by surprise she didn’t know what to say. This was the first morning she’d even seen Miss Caretta Rutledge before 11:00 a.m. much less in the kitchen brewing coffee and making toast. She’d have rubbed her eyes if it wouldn’t have smeared her eyeliner.

“Want some coffee?”

“Why, uh, sure. Thanks.” She reached for the cup but Cara already pulled one from the mix-and-match sets in the cupboard. “Want this one? The Meissen’s always been a favorite of mine.”

“I’m partial to those pink flowered ones.”

“Limoges. You have good taste. Those are Mama’s favorites, too.”

Toy basked in the compliment, but remained wary.

The toast popped up, and with the speed of a short-order cook, Cara had it buttered and placed on two plates, one for each of them. She then carried a platter of jam, sliced cheddar and Jarlsburg cheeses to the table.

“I’m not a gourmet cook, but this should settle us for awhile. Do you want anything more? Cereal? Eggs? A growing baby must need a lot.”

“I can fix it myself later. This will hold me just fine for now.” She looked at Cara, unsure of what to expect next. Cara looked lean and fit in her khaki shorts, like one of those ladies in Miss Lovie’s Town and Country magazines. Feeling self-conscious, Toy reached her arm behind her back for the zipper, feeling as gangly as a walrus.

“Here, let me get that for you.” Cara moved behind Toy and with a few struggles, tugged the zipper up the track. “I’d tell you to tuck in your stomach but I don’t think it’d do any good. I hate to tell you this, sweetie, but this dress isn’t going to hold you much longer. What do you say we go to the Towne Center and pick you up a few maternity things?”

“I’m okay,” Toy replied quickly. “I’m fixing to sew up a few dresses. By the way, where is Miss Lovie? She’s usually the first one up.”

“She’s pretty tired this morning. I’m glad she’s sleeping in.” Cara moved toward the table and gestured for Toy to follow her. They sat across from each other, Toy a bit uneasy but Cara more relaxed than she’d ever seen her as she applied a thick layer of strawberry jam to her wheat toast and bit into it with relish.

Toy watched every move Cara made, painfully aware of her natural elegance. Toy sat straighter in her chair and imitated her movements as she spread jam on her own toast.

“You’ll never guess what we saw last night,” Cara said, her eyes sparkling. When Toy shook her head, Cara exclaimed, “A turtle! We saw the whole thing—the digging, the laying of the eggs. Then we followed her back to the ocean. What a gorgeous creature she was.”

Toy bit into her toast, then said while chewing, “I thought you didn’t like turtles.”

Cara wiped her mouth with a napkin, emerging from the white linen with a smile. “I do now. How could I not after that spectacle?”

“This happened last night? Where was I?”

“Fast asleep. I hope you aren’t upset we didn’t call you. Actually, Mama woke me up and we hurried out there. I think she wanted to spend some time alone with me.” She set down her toast, wiped her hands and gave Toy her full attention. Her face was serious. “Last night Mama told me about the cancer.”

Toy put down her own toast and just stared back at Cara.

“We talked about a lot of things last night, things we should have talked about long before. She told me about how you’ve taken care of her all these months. Taking her to the hospital for all those treatments. Waiting for hours at a time. That couldn’t have been easy.”

“It was nothing compared to what she’s done for me.”

Cara seemed to take this statement to heart. “You did a lot, and I thank you for it. I can’t tell you how much. But that’s going to change now. I’ve decided to stay for the summer and I’m here to help. Don’t worry that I’m taking your job away from you. I’m just making it a little easier. I figure I’ll do some of the outside chores that need doing, the driving and maybe the shopping when you’re tired. I can’t cook worth a darn, so you’d best keep that up if you don’t want to starve. And Mama can tell you I’m not exactly a neat housekeeper. Frankly, I’ve no skills whatsoever in the house and hearth department. So, believe me, we need you. We can work out all the details later. I just wanted you to know.”

Toy sat silent for a moment, ruminating all she’d been told. Cara seemed so confident. So efficient. So different this morning than she had been since she’d arrived. She figured Cara must really love her mother after all.

“I’m glad Miss Lovie told you. I’ve been wishing she would. It didn’t seem right me knowing and not you. Made me feel like we had some secret and it wasn’t like that at all. I think she was protecting you.”

“Mama has a habit of doing that. She likes to keep things inside and pretend everything is just peachy keen. I guess now it’s my turn to protect her. No, not from you!” she said with a smile.

“From Palmer?”

Cara’s brows rose at this. “Maybe. He doesn’t know about the cancer yet. I’m worried how he’ll take it.”

“Do you think he’ll make her go back into the city?”

“Not if I can help it. But he’ll try and I admit I’m worried. She defers to him now like she deferred to my father. I still get mad just thinking about it.” She sighed and stared into her coffee. “I’m sure growing up seeing my mother kowtow to my father is one reason why being independent has always been so important to me. A woman shouldn’t expect a man to take care of her.”

“Why not? I do.”

“Don’t. If you’re waiting for a man to sweep you away and make your troubles disappear, then you’ll be disappointed. I found it was much more likely to happen if I depended on myself instead.”

“That’s fine for you and all, but I guess I’m more like Miss Lovie. You know, kinda old-fashioned. I don’t want a big career. I just want to be married and have a nice family. That’s all I ever wanted. And I know my Darryl will take good care of me and my baby someday.”

Cara didn’t reply. She sat listening in that way of hers that made Toy feel like every single word she said was being chewed, swallowed and digested. Unaccustomed to such focused attention she found it unnerving. She got up from the table and took her plate to the sink. Carrying the coffeepot back with her, she poured Cara another cup, then set the pot on the table and sat again in her chair.

“There’s something else I wanted to tell you,” Toy said hesitatingly. “About last night.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I heard what your brother said about me.”

Cara frowned. “I’m sorry you had to hear that. It was vile.”

“Yeah, it was.” She picked at her nail and shrugged. “But I’m kinda used to it. A lot of people like to judge pregnant teenagers. They think there’s something wrong with us, with our morals. You know? Anyway, I heard what you said back to him.” She raised her eyes. “Thanks.”

Cara leaned back in her chair and smiled. “Don’t mention it. He’s not a bad guy, really. He just needs a zing every once in a while to keep him honest. Julia should learn how to do it.”

“Yeah. Like, what’s that about?”

“What?”

“You know. He bosses her around a lot.”

Cara frowned into her coffee. “Like father like son.”

“You mean your daddy treated Miss Lovie that way?”

“Oh, yes. Only worse.” Her face darkened and she grabbed hold of her coffee cup. “Much worse.”

Toy drew back in her chair. She didn’t think things like that happened to women South of Broad. “I don’t believe it. Who’d ever treat Miss Lovie like that? She’s like the perfect lady. So kind and sweet.”

“Most ladies who are treated like that are sweet. It’s the bitches like me who won’t tolerate it.”

Toy laughed, enjoying the sound of it again. She’d been on tenterhooks ever since Cara had arrived. “You’re not a bitch.” Then when Cara looked at her askance, she laughed again and added, “Well, not anymore, anyway.”

Until this morning, Cara’s smiles were rare. Now they spread across her face frequently, even if with a rusty awkwardness.

“All joking aside,” Cara said, “I don’t think a woman who refuses to be hit or bullied is a bitch, actually. She has self-respect.”

“Are you saying your daddy hit Miss Lovie?”

Cara’s face clouded. “I’m just saying there’s no excuse for a man to hit a woman. None. Period. But verbal beatings can be worse. More insidious, in that the scars aren’t visible. Words can be killers. And don’t think for a minute he didn’t fire those verbal bullets in a splay pattern. It was a war zone growing up. We all got hit at some point or another.” Her gaze was distant and Toy could see she was remembering details. “The difference is I escaped. She stayed. I swear, I don’t know how she stood it all those years.”

“She must have loved him a lot.” Her voice sounded very small to her own ears.

Cara looked at her for a long time, her dark eyes pulsing some message that Toy couldn’t quite grasp. “That would only make it worse, don’t you think?”

Toy lowered her head to pick at her nail. “You can’t help it when you love someone real bad.”

“You can always help it. You always have a choice.”

Toy felt a surge of anger and shame sweep over her that stained her cheeks pink. When she heard things like this it made her feel like there was something wrong with her. Her friends used to ask her why she put up with Darryl’s harassing her all the time, shoving her or saying cruel things in public. They asked her why she didn’t just break up with him? But she couldn’t, and it made her feel stupid, like she should know better. She knew they were trying to help, that Cara was trying, but it only made her feel like she wasn’t good enough.

“That’s easy for you to say. What do you know about what it’s like to be in my place? You had problems, sure, but you were rich. You went to a good school. You had chances girls like me just don’t get. You had a way out. People say things to me a lot worse than what Palmer said and I just have to take it because there’s nothing else I can do. You think you’re smart because you went to college and have an important job. But you just don’t know.”

“It doesn’t take brains or money to figure out that when a man breaks a woman’s spirit or beats the shit out of her—if he so much as raises his hand against her—it’s not love. It’s called abuse. It’s some guy wanting power and control over a woman.”

Toy bridled, jutting her chin out in defense. “Darryl isn’t like that! He’s real good to me. It only happened once and he was real sorry.”

“They’re all sorry afterward. But they do it again.”

Toy was feeling cornered and felt tears sting the corners of her eyes. “No!” She shouted out the word. “Don’t you talk about him like that. He’s nothing like your father. I love him. We’re gonna be a family. In fact, I’m fixing to call him today.” She pushed away from the table, rose clumsily and stomped from the room to go out on the porch.

Cara, watching her flee, felt guilty for arousing such defense from the girl when all she’d intended to do was warn her. She’d known a number of women at the agency who showed up to work with bruises. In time, it always affected their performance and she had to get involved and refer them to counseling so they could keep their jobs. The hardest thing to convince these women was that they didn’t deserve the violence.

Cara scratched her head and exhaled a great sigh. Though it was still quite early, she felt the need for a good stiff drink. She rose to go after Toy.

As she made her way to the porch the phone rang. Not wanting the persistent ringing to awaken her mother, she detoured to the phone in the hall, keeping her eye on Toy, who was standing with her arms wrapped militantly around her chest, looking out at the ocean.

“Hello?”

“Lovie?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, it’s Cara. Her daughter.”

“Why for heaven’s sake. Cara! It’s me! Emmi.”

Cara’s mind switched mental gears with a grinding crunch. “Emmaline Baker?”

“How many Emmis do you know on the Isle of Palms? I heard talk that you were back but you never bothered to call. What kind of friend is that?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been sick and it’s been a bit crazy here.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” she drawled. “Doesn’t matter. What are you up to today? I’d love to see you.”

Cara smiled faintly and leaned against the wall. “I’d love to see you, too.”

She conjured up a vision of Emmaline Baker the last time she’d seen her, God, twenty years ago? She was lanky, big boned, with a wide-smiling mouth. They used to call her Carly Simon’s long-lost cousin. But it was her hair that Cara always loved. Long, curly and a fiery red that Cara thought made her look like one of her wild Scottish ancestors. She had the tongue and temper to match. Emmi was smart, too. They went to different schools—Cara to Ashley Hall and Emmi to Christ Our King—and at the beginning of every summer when they came to the island they would compare report cards. Most years it was neck and neck. Though they were best friends, there was always this competition between them, in a good, edgy kind of way. Knowing that come June she’d have to compare her grades with Emmi Baker was what kept her nose to the books during the school year. What was Emmi like now, she wondered? Was she as fiery as ever? Or had age mellowed her?

“I hear you’re a Turtle Lady now.” There was a tease in her voice.

“Yep. Your mama finally roped me in. Took her thirty years, though.” They both chuckled over the line. “Remember how she made us walk the beach every morning to look for tracks?”

“I don’t know who hated it more, you or me.”

“That’s why I’m calling, actually. I spotted tracks this morning, right in front of your house.”

“We know. We saw the mother lay the eggs last night. Mama put some shells in a pile to mark the spot.”

“No kidding? Cool. Talk about beginner’s luck. I’ve been doing this for two years and I haven’t seen one yet. Those wily turtles. Is Lovie coming down to put the stakes in? The nest looks like it’s in a pretty good spot.”

“No. Mama’s not feeling well today. Tell you what. I’ll come down with the stakes and stuff and you can impress me with all you know. We could catch up.”

“It’s about time. I thought you’d been avoiding me the past two weeks but I told myself my old pal Cara wouldn’t do anything like that.” There was a pause, then she said with less bravado and more sincerity, “It’s been too long, sugar.”

“I know. Okay, I’ll be down in a flash.”

“I’ll beat you there.” She hung up before Cara could respond. It was an old game of one upmanship they used to play as kids.

Cara hung up the phone with a tightness in her throat. Emmi Baker. In all her life there was probably only one girlfriend who she’d felt was like a sister to her, who she could tell anything to and not worry about it leaking out. Someone who didn’t have to finish sentences to be understood, someone who could say it all with one glance, someone who was squarely on her side. That person was Emmaline Baker. And she couldn’t wait to see her again.

She walked out on the porch to Toy’s side, sticking her hands in her pockets as she approached. “Hi,” she said in a subdued voice.

Toy turned to face her. “Was that someone you knew?”

“Emmi Baker. We were friends growing up.”

Toy nodded, accepting that at face value. She seemed troubled and her distance was not so much the old aloofness as it was a new sadness.

“Toy, what I said earlier…I might have been a bit preachy. I’m sorry if I upset you. You’re right. I don’t know your boyfriend. I told you about my mother because I wanted you to know you aren’t alone. These things happen to a lot of women, and it doesn’t matter if you’re rich or poor, smart or not so smart. We’re not judging. We just care about you. That’s all.”

Toy lifted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “That’s okay. I know you didn’t mean nothing by it.”

“You aren’t really thinking of going back to him?”

“Someday I am.” Then, glancing over her shoulder, added with less attitude, “Are you sure you want me to hang around now that you’ll be here all summer?”

Cara knew this was her chance. One word from her and Toy would leave and she’d have the house to herself and her mother. It was tempting. She looked at the girl—her protruding belly, her choppy blond hair and her kohl-lined eyes. Toy wasn’t really all that different from Cara at that age. At eighteen they were both outcasts, beaten by a man with nowhere to go. Except Cara had had her self-esteem and her stubborn determination to succeed while Toy…All Toy had was her baby and a fragile dream of a family.

“I’m very sure,” she replied. “Listen,” she added in an encouraging tone. “Emmi is going to meet me down by the turtle tracks. Something about marking the nest. Want to come? I sure don’t know what I’m supposed to bring.”

“I should stay here in case Miss Lovie wakes up. But everything you need is right there in the red bucket beside the door. Emmi will know what to do.”

“You’re quite sure? We could write Mama a note and tell her where we are.”

“I’m pretty tired myself.” She met Cara’s eyes, her expression one of utter defeat.

“Okay,” she replied, letting it ride. “Tell you what, I’ll treat us all to lunch when I get back. You pick where.” She looked at her watch. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. I’d better get down to the beach.” She flipped on her cap and donned sunglasses, then picked up the red bucket. She stared at it in her hand and said ruefully, “I can’t believe I’m getting hoodwinked into doing this turtle stuff!”

He answered the phone on the fifth ring. “Yeah?”

“Hello, Darryl?”

There was a moment’s silence. “Who’s this?”

“It’s me.”

“Toy?”

“Of course it’s me. I thought I’d just call and see how you’re doing.”

There was a long pause during which Toy wrung the cord.

“Nice of you to call,” he said with sarcasm. Then tersely, “Where the hell are you?”

“Do you miss me?”

There was another long pause. “It’s been a long time, babe.”

She chewed her lip. “So, how are you?”

“I’m doin’ okay.”

She could tell he was mad. Was that good or bad, she wondered? “I’m doin’ okay, too. And the baby is, too. You’d be, like, shocked to see me now. I’m so big.”

“So you kept it.” It wasn’t a question. His anger was easy to hear over the wire.

“I told you I was gonna. It’s our baby, Darryl.”

“It ain’t no baby of mine. I told you that.”

“You know it is. I haven’t been with anyone but you.”

“Hey,” he said sharply, cutting her off. “Whatever. It’s your bod. Your life.”

She had to suck in her breath against the pain. “I gotta go.”

“Hold on a minute,” he said in a rush. “Toy?”

She agonized, bringing the phone back to her ear. “I’m here.”

“It wasn’t right what you did. Leaving me like that. I came home and you were gone. I mean, shit, Toy. What was that?”

“It wasn’t right for you to throw all my stuff out on the street, neither. Denise told me you did that. I didn’t even have a chance to get my things.”

“I was mad and I had a right to be. We had something real good and you went and broke it.”

“I didn’t want to! But it got too much. I was scared.”

“You were scared of me?” His voice rose.

“Not you exactly. I was scared for the baby.”

“See, that’s what I mean. That baby is coming between us. I told you this would happen and I was right. We don’t need this shit right now. You’re too young. I’m too young.”

“I’m pregnant. We can’t take it back. And don’t even say it, Darryl! I’m not getting rid of it.”

He inhaled his cigarette. She could hear him exhale a long plume. “Then that’s it, I guess.”

“I guess,” she said softly.

“Toy, baby, think what you’re doing. I’ve been going crazy these past few months, missing you. There was no reason for you to leave. You know I was sorry. I just got mad. Where are you?”

“I—I can’t tell you.”

“What do you mean you can’t tell me? What do you think I’m gonna do?”

She heard the anger building again and immediately tried to placate him. “I don’t think you’re going to do nothing. It’s what I might do. I might see you and want to come back to you.”

His voice lowered to a seductive note. “And what would be so wrong with that?”

She melted a little. “Nothing. Just not yet. I want to stay here while I’m pregnant. Then after the baby’s born, I’ll look the way I did before, you know? We can be together then.”

“That might work.”

She took heart instantly. “I know you’ll love the baby when you see it. I’ll take care of it and you won’t have to worry about anything.”

“Whoa. I told you. I’m not ready to be anybody’s father.”

“But Darryl, you are somebody’s father.” She heard a woman’s voice calling Darryl in the background. Gripping the phone tighter, she asked, “Who’s that?”

“Some girl.” He didn’t even try to make an excuse.

“What’s she doing there?”

“What do you think? You’re not here. Remember that. You made a choice.”

“You pig!” Seized with a jealous fury, she hung up the phone. Her breathing was erratic and she felt small pains in her belly. She took deep breaths and made circles with her fingertips along her taut abdomen. This had gone much worse than she’d imagined.

She leaned against the wall and brought her hand to her eyes. Everything was such a mess. She knew he was mad but she’d hoped he had missed her and wanted to get back together. What a laugh. How could he already be with another woman? She probably wasn’t even the first. How could she be such an idiot to think he still loved her? That’s what she got for getting involved with a player.

A moment later the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Just thought you’d like to know I have your number.”

“Darryl, you can’t call me here! You can’t come here neither, hear?”

“Don’t you go tellin’ me what I can and can’t do. You’re mine, don’t be forgettin’ that. I’ll come by when I’m good and ready. And when I do, you’re coming back home with me. Where you belong.”

“If you want me back, you’ll have to want the baby, too.”

But he hung up on her before she could finish the sentence. Her heart was pounding again as she put the receiver gently back. He always had to have the last word. And he usually came through with his threats.

She stared at the phone, chewing her lip. She didn’t feel anger anymore. Now, she felt fear.

Whenever she thought of Emmi, Cara thought of the day they’d learned about kissing under Emmi’s front porch. It was the summer after seventh grade and she and Emmi and Tom Peterson had sat on the cool earth in the dank shadowy light and played spin the bottle. She couldn’t remember who suggested the game—probably Emmi—but she vividly remembered the fierce, unspoken competition between them to get the first kiss from Tom. They both had a crush on the boy, even if he was shorter, skinnier and a year older than them. But he had dreamy eyes and a smile that showed his shiny white teeth and melted them both into pools of prepubescent desire.

Not that they really understood a lot about desire at thirteen, but they did understand kissing Tom Peterson first was a prize. They sat on the dirt in a tight circle of three, she perched on her knees, Emmi and Tom Indian style. Tom went first. It was a hot day and Cara felt beads of perspiration forming on her upper lip and brow. She gave them a hasty swipe with her forearm but kept her eyes peeled to the bottle. Round and round that Coke bottle spun. Cara held her breath and clenched her hands into tight fists on the ground. She glanced at Tom. He was looking at Emmi. With her fiery hair in pigtails high up on her head and all tied up with yellow ribbons, Cara knew that Emmi looked ten times prettier. She squeezed her fists even tighter, wishing she’d let her mom pull her own long dark hair into braids like she’d wanted to. Cara said it itched her scalp and had stubbornly insisted on letting it hang all loose and scraggly.

Finally the bottle slowed. It landed on Cara. She lurched forward with triumph. Then she stopped, suddenly shy. Tom was blushing furiously and Emmi was uncharacteristically quiet, looking down as she drew circles in the dirt. Tom looked at Cara, wiped his mouth and then, in the manner of a condemned man, leaned on his knuckles toward her. Cara swallowed hard and inched forward on her knees toward him, aware of Emmi’s gaze on them. Right there and then, over an empty Coke bottle which later she was sure was somehow prophetic, Cara closed her eyes and received her first kiss. To this day she could feel the zing she felt then, from her lips clear down to her toes. Yes, please!

Though it was to be years before she’d do any serious kissing, she knew at that moment that kissing was right up there on her list of favorite things to do. As for Tom, on the next spin he got to kiss Emmi and he’d been kissing her ever since. They both went to Bishop England High School and dated on and off throughout. During the summers, though, they all hung around together like the Three Musketeers. Their main objectives were to get tanned, go to the movies at night and avoid being trapped into turtle duty during the day. Emmi and Tom both went to the University of South Carolina and got married right after Tom’s graduation. Cara had been a bridesmaid.

Then they lost touch as friends often do when they grow up and go their separate ways. Yet even though they never spoke or wrote much over the years, Cara learned from Christmas cards or via her mother that Emmi and Tom had moved to Atlanta where Tom was an executive at Coca-Cola. They had two children, boys, right away. Yet, unlike with other friends she’d made and lost over the years, Cara always felt with Emmi that the intangible thread between them was strong and secure.

Arriving at the beach she saw a woman sitting on a large piece of driftwood poking a stick around in the sand. She was as broad in the beam as the tree trunk she sat upon. Bits of coppery colored hair curled around the rim of her sunhat. Cara walked closer. Before she reached her, the woman turned her head and her face lit up.

“Cara!”

“Emmi!”

With a joyful laugh they closed the remaining distance and hugged tightly. In the rocking Cara felt the years peel away and they were thirteen again, pals forever. When they stood apart, Cara saw tears glistening in Emmi’s eyes as they hungrily scanned each other’s faces.

“You haven’t changed a bit. Damn you,” Emmi said, her wide mouth stretching happily across her face. On her, a smile was more than a facial expression. It was a statement.

“Neither have you.”

“Oh, go on, liar.”

Emmi had gained weight proportionately, though on her large frame she didn’t look fat so much as big. Her face was tanned and the faint freckles sprinkling her nose and cheeks gave her a youthful look. She still had that wonderful exuberance about her and her green eyes danced in welcome.

They just grinned at each other for a moment, soaking each other in. “It’s so wonderful to see you again,” Cara said with feeling. “How long has it been?”

“God, years. Too long.”

“It’s terrible.”

“I know. But didn’t it go by quickly?” After they chuckled Emmi said, “So, you’re still not married?”

“Uh-uh. What can I say? You stole Tom from me and after that…” She shrugged.

Emmi laughed, but there was a strain in her eyes that Cara didn’t miss.

“How is Tom? Is he around? I’d love to see him.”

“Oh boy, where is he now? Let’s see,” Emmi tapped her lips in thought. “He’s in South America, even as we speak. He’s still with Coca-Cola and he’s overseeing a new plant in Peru. He’s back and forth a lot, mostly forth. I got tired of sitting around the house and came here. We pretty much decided we wouldn’t see a whole lot of each other in the summer.” She kicked her toe in the sand. “Sort of like your mom and your dad used to be.”

Cara blinked. Her mama had come to the beach house as an escape from her husband, but Emmi didn’t know that. As close as they were growing up, Cara could never confide to Emmi the personal problems of the family. If there was one thing her mama had drummed into her head, it was to never hang the family’s dirty laundry out on the line.

“Since the boys were born we’ve come here every July and for holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. The boys love it here and, of course, so do Tom and I. Then last year my parents retired to Florida and gave me the beach house. So here I am.”

“How about your boys? I’m guessing they’re surfer dudes now, bronzed and breaking hearts every week?”

“Yes and no. They come once in a while for a weekend. James, our eldest, is an obsessive-compulsive studier. He’s in premed at Duke and refuses to waste his time coming to the island to hang out during the summer. So he stays on campus. John’s got his friends and a job. He still fiddles around with a surfboard when he visits, which is not too often. He prefers it in Atlanta. At his age the last thing he wants to do is spend time with his mother.”

“So you’re living alone here for the summer?” Cara asked.

“Yes, ma’am, and loving every minute of it. I’m as free as a bird. Whoopee!”

Cara laughed to see Emmi spread her arms and flap them like the gulls overhead. “You’re still as crazy as ever.”

Emmi dropped her hands and removed her hat to smooth her hair. Cara found it bittersweet to see the long thick red hair she’d admired cut bluntly around the chin and mingled with a few strands of gray.

“No, sadly I’m not anymore. But I’m trying to regain a little craziness in my life. Let’s not go down that road quite yet, honey. Tell me about you! I hear you’re some big muck-a-muck ad executive in Chicago. I always knew you’d amount to something, Caretta Rutledge.”

Cara sighed and moved to sit down on the long palm trunk that had washed ashore. She patted the warped wood and Emmi came to join her. They sat shoulder to shoulder and both stretched their long legs out before them as they did as kids. Cara’s legs were lean and pale beside Emmi’s tanned, thick ones.

“Was is the operative word,” she replied, then kicked her heel in the sand. “I got canned. Just before I came here. I went to work one day with a new client on my mind and before an hour was up I was escorted out the door by an armed guard. Now that’s an experience you never want to have, I can promise you.”

“What?” she asked, sounding shocked. “Did you embezzle pots of dough or bring an Uzi into the cafeteria?”

Cara laughed. “Hardly. Let’s just say it was spring-cleaning and I was a superfluous dustball. A big and expensive-to-get-rid-of bit of dust, but discarded nonetheless.”

“Cara, I’m so sorry.”

“It happens. More often in this business than you’d think. But,” she added with chagrin, “you still never think it’s going to happen to you.”

“So, how are you? I mean, are you okay or are you destitute-and-on-the-streets kind of unemployed? We used to say we’d always take each other in if we had to and my door is always open.” She paused. “Is that why you’re home?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay,” she said with a light chuckle. “At least so far. I was with the agency for a long time and the severance package was very generous. I’m far from destitute, but I wish I could tell you I’ve got a great stock portfolio or something. I figure with my costs set, I can afford to regroup this summer. A headhunter is already looking into things for me and I’m confident something will turn up. I just hope it’s sooner than later or I might take you up on that deal.”

“Any time. We’re blood sisters, remember?”

“God, do you know how lucky we are to have been kids when we were? These days it’d be crazy to share blood like that.”

“We would’ve done it anyway.”

“You think?” She kicked the sand again and her tone changed to a more philosophical note. “You know, it’s providential. I realized that when I woke up this morning. If it had happened to Mama last year, I couldn’t have stayed for the summer. But now I can.”

“Whoa, back up. You lost me. If what happened to your mother?”

“My mother has cancer.”

Emmi sat straight up and looked stricken. “Miss Lovie? Oh, no.”

“I only just found out myself. It’s lung cancer. Apparently it’s already metastasized and there’s really nothing more they can do.” Her throat constricted and she abruptly stopped speaking.

“Oh no, no, no. Not her. That’s just shitty.”

Cara nodded. “She’s asked me to stay for the summer and I’ve agreed. That’s what I meant. I have the time to stay now because I was fired, where a year ago I couldn’t have swung a whole summer off.”

“Well, you could have.”

“Not and kept my job. But that point is moot now, isn’t it? And what does losing a job compare to losing my mother?”

Emmi shook her head sadly. “I’m so sorry, Cara. My heart is sick. The whole island will be heartbroken, too. Why, most everyone who’s ever spent time here knows her as the Turtle Lady. We all saw our first hatchlings because of her.”

“Remember how she used to raise a flag whenever a nest was due to hatch?”

Emmi nodded, then offered a rueful smile. “But she used to help them hatch a little, too, if you know what I mean. There are strict regulations against that now.”

Cara didn’t know or care about regulations. All she knew was that her mother would not be here next summer when the loggerheads returned. “It’s so unthinkable to imagine that she’s really dying. It’s hard to accept. When I see her I think, ‘okay, she’s sick.’ But I still can’t imagine her life coming to an end. It’s odd, but in some ways the summer looms so long. Yet, when I think this will be her last summer, then it seems frighteningly short.”

“Imagine how it must feel to her.”

“That’s what’s so amazing. She doesn’t seem the least bit afraid.”

“What is she do—”

Emmi was interrupted by the high-pitched hello of a woman approaching up the beach. Emmi raised her arm and waved back. “Hey there!” To Cara she said, “There’s Florence. You remember Florence Prescott, don’t you?”

“Of course.” Cara watched the woman approach. Flo had been like an aunt to her growing up. Yet, she was ageless, too, her brilliant white hair a stark contrast to her very tanned skin. She wore a green T-shirt with a picture of a loggerhead and the words Turtle Team across the front.

Flo shook her head as she drew near and called out, “As I live and breathe, it’s Caretta Rutledge in the flesh. How are you doing, darlin’?”

Cara stood to embrace the woman with the same ease she had for years when Flo walked right into their kitchen for a morning cup of coffee. “I’m fine. You look great! Oh, it’s so good to see you again.”

“You’re looking pretty good, too,” Flo said, removing her sunglasses and giving Cara the once-over with blue eyes shining like searchlights. “For someone on death’s doorstep. Lovie told me you’d been under the weather since you arrived.”

“I was, but I’m better now.”

“The island makes you feel better. You should come home more often.”

Cara heard the scold beneath the smile and nodded. “I’m here for the summer now, Flo.”

Flo’s expression changed quickly to become serious and her eyes flashed in understanding. “So, she’s finally told you?”

Cara nodded, tightening her lips.

“Good. I’m glad. She needed to tell you as much as you needed to hear it. Lovie needs you now, Cara. She’s missed you something fierce.”

Flo’s voice was full of conviction and Cara shifted her weight. She’d never thought her mother needed her, much less missed her.

“It’s going to be hard on all of us,” Flo continued, “but we can’t let on. We need to keep upbeat.”

“I was thinking,” Emmi broke in. “We’ll have to figure out how to cover for Lovie over the summer if she can’t keep up with her schedule.”

“You won’t be able to take it away from her,” Flo replied in her matter-of-fact manner. “The turtles are her life.”

“No, they’re not,” Cara said. “She needs to think about other things this summer and she may not be up to the task. The turtles have taken my mother away for long enough.”

Flo studied her face, then spoke slowly. “You never understood about your mother and the loggerheads. And I guess there are parts of the story you never can. But trust me on this, Caretta. If you take those turtles away from her, you’ll kill her faster than any cancer will. She’s been doing this for as long as you’ve been alive and it means the world to her. Not just the turtles, but also the feeling of renewal they give her. It’s a special connectedness to God, to the earth, to the best part of herself. She’s earned that small bit of peace—and you know what I’m talking about.”

Cara didn’t reply.

“Why, you know how much she looks forward to the turtle season every year. She lives for it. Finding and marking the nests, waking early to find tracks or staying up late to sit with eggs till they’ve hatched. She keeps all the records, writes the newsletter, gives lectures, instructs the children, welcomes the tourists and who knows what else? She’s like a mama hen worrying about each and every one of those hatchlings.

“And on top of all that, people with causes live longer, age slower, stay sharper and are just damn more agreeable.” She released a quick smile that set her eyes glittering like topaz. “Even if they are a bit single-minded. Take the turtles away from Lovie and what’s she got left? Just her illness, that’s what. Dry rot will set in and she’ll be waiting to die. I’ve seen it happen too often. Why, the very notion boils my blood. I say she needs to feel a part of this team now more than ever. Olivia Rutledge is the Turtle Team.”

Emmi nodded her head in staunch agreement.

Cara, who had remained silent during Flo’s fiery defense, ran her hand through her hair. “What do you recommend we do?”

Flo heard the deference and exhaled a long breath. Chewing the end of her sunglasses, she regarded Cara shrewdly. “You should get involved.”

“With the Turtle Team? Me?”

“Exactly.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Thanks for the offer, but I’m not the Turtle Team type.”

Flo brought back her shoulders. “I’m not sure there is a type.”

“Sure there is. The nurturing type.”

She skewered Cara with a look. “And you’re saying you are not the nurturing type?”

Cara looked her right back in the eye. “That’s what I’m saying.”

Florence burst out laughing. “The hell you aren’t. You just don’t know it yet. There’s nothing like a nest of hatchlings to bring it out, too. Okay, now here’s my suggestion. Just hear me out. We both know your mama wants to spend time with you this summer. This would be the perfect project for you to share. She might not be up to doing all the tasks, though, so you can take over a lot of the physical activities like getting up early and following up on the turtle track reports and checking the nests at night. Lovie can do the charts, write the newsletters and still come down to the beach as often as she feels up to it. That way, no one is taking away any of her duties.”

Cara made an agonized face. “But I’ll be taking on a lot of them. Flo, you know I’ve never wanted to be a turtle lady.”

“Oh, come on,” Emmi chided, nudging her in the ribs. “Your mama came over to my house and got me involved last summer and I have to admit, I was reluctant to have to get up early every morning, especially with the boys gone and no breakfast to make. But you know your mama. The next thing I knew I was walking the beach every morning, feeling great, and couldn’t wait for the sun to set so I could sit out there by the nests with the girls at night. Being part of the team grounded me and made this island my home again. You were just saying a minute ago how the summer loomed so long. This will give it focus. Best of all, you’ll have this to share with your mama.”

“And she needs you now,” Flo added simply.

Cara realized that this one quietly spoken statement was the winning argument. Her mind spun, trying to think of alternative solutions. But there were none. She felt herself being dragged along into this decision like a piece of driftwood in the tide.

“Will you help me? I don’t have a clue what to do.”

“Of course. We all will,” replied Flo. “But not to worry, Caretta. You’ve got the greatest teacher of all.”

Emmi’s eyes filled suddenly and she wrapped her arms around her once again.

“I’m so glad you’re home. Welcome back.”

The loggerhead deposits her leathery, Ping-Pong ball sized eggs into the nest cavity, laying two, three or four at a time. She will lay eighty to one hundred and fifty eggs in each nest.