ome sweet home,” Brett declared, leading the way up the crumbling cement walkway. “Come on in and I’ll cook you up some dinner.”

Cara just stared at the small 1960s stucco bungalow. “It’s pink!” she exclaimed.

“I call it the Pink Flamingo.” He pointed to a metal pink flamingo roosting in the ground near the front entrance. Catching her expression he chided, “Now, before you look at me like that, it’s important to remember that you’re back on the island. It might be a very different thing if I had a pink house up north. But here it’s very Bermuda.”

“I know that. It’s just that I have a hard time picturing you in a pink house—anywhere.” She looked at the compact, boxy structure with the gray sloping roof. Dominating the front lawn, shielding the little house from the busy street, was an ancient live oak tree that stretched its perfect-for-climbing branches across the front lawn and graced the house with shade. Her heart pinged, recalling her own favorite tree growing up.

“It’s a very sweet house,” she said.

“Sweet? Now that really hurts.” He unlocked the door. “Come on in before you say anything else.”

The interior was pure bachelor. The walls were dingy gray, the light fixtures strictly of the hardware store variety and what little furniture there was represented years of collecting whatever could be obtained free or on the cheap. A bicycle was parked by the front door and a wet suit and kayak lined the hallway. And his business office was little more than a bunch of mail, papers, books and manila folders cluttering the dining room table. Her eyes skimmed over the mayhem quickly, drawn instead to the glorious view outside the wall of sliding glass. The water of the Intracoastal was racing with the current of the changing tide. It was breathtaking and she instantly fell in love with the place.

She was standing at the glass patio doors looking out when he came up behind her. His strong arms encircled her, dwarfing her, and his big hands rested against her abdomen pressing her to him. She felt an electric jolt when he touched her and closed her eyes with a sigh. Was he making his move at last?

“Hungry?” he asked.

She told herself she wasn’t going to fall into that ridiculous banter about how she was hungry for his kisses. It was too clichéd, too utterly banal.

“I’m starving,” she replied, suddenly coy.

“I’m going to fix us some dinner,” he said, drawing his arms away.

She watched him walk away, stunned. “You do that,” she said, half smiling, half pouting. She told herself he was just throwing her off her mark. Other men would have slipped their hands up her blouse and made love to her on the spot. Dinner would have been an afterthought.

She turned her head in time to see Brett open the glass sliding door and walk off across the yard and down to the end of his dock. Curious, she moved closer to the door, resting her hands upon the cool glass. The glass was smeared with water spots and grime, but she could still see well enough that Brett was bent over the dock. A moment later, he was pulling up a crab pot. The black iron cage emerged dripping with water and filled with what she could only guess were plenty of snapping crabs. Brett appeared to know exactly what to do with them.

Who was this guy, she wondered? Most of the men she’d dated went to the refrigerator or picked up the telephone to get dinner. She leaned against the door and laughed. Brett was nothing remotely like any other man she’d dated.

Thank God.

Together they cooked the crabs in a big stainless steel pot on a gas burner out on the back porch. Cara melted some butter in the microwave while Brett shucked corn. The setting sun cast a pink pall on the water and deepened Cara’s hair to a chocolate brown that matched her eyes. She’d pinned it high up on her head; eating crab was a two-handed affair that required lots of dipping in butter and lots of napkins.

She and Brett sat in the dwindling sunlight while the candles flickered in the hurricane lamps. As they ate their sweet crabmeat and drank beer from cans, it seemed so easy to fall into a rhythm of conversation. They talked about their jobs, the latest turtle nest, plans for the porch and anything else that came to mind. As the night wore on, she found she liked Brett more and more. She liked the way his eyes focused on her when she talked and the way she could laugh readily, like with an old friend. It was comfortable—almost too. And as she watched the way his face moved when he laughed and the way his blue eyes intensified as he told a story, she wondered whether he felt the same about her or if this was merely the way Brett Beauchamps was with everyone.

After they finished clearing the empty shells and husks and returned to the table with cold beers, Cara told Brett about Darryl and Toy. He reacted exactly as she’d thought he might. His mouth set in a grim line and his large hand crinkled the metal of his beer can.

“Just let him show his hairy ass around your place and he’ll be one sorry little bastard. In fact, I hope he does show up.”

“What is it about men that they just can’t wait to beat their chests and have a good fight?”

“I’m not joking around, Cara. I hate guys like that. Hitting a woman makes them feel like a man. I like nothing better than giving his type a chance to pick on someone his own size.”

“I know and I agree. I just hope we don’t have this little gladiator exhibition at Primrose Cottage.” She reached up to stroke his arm while a flicker of worry crossed her face. “You never know about a lowlife like that. He might carry some kind of weapon. A knife or a gun.”

“I can handle it.”

She considered this.

“What?” he asked on the defensive. “You’re looking at me funny. You don’t think I can?”

“Just the opposite. When you say you can handle it, I believe you. I’ve never felt that way about a man before.”

“Felt what way?”

“Safe,” she replied, surprised she’d admitted something so personal. “My last boyfriend—” She paused and put her hand to her cheek. “God, isn’t that a horrible word for a woman my age to use? Boyfriend? It makes me feel like I’m going steady.”

He frowned. “What about him?”

His eyes were intense and she wondered with a smug pleasure whether he might be a tad jealous. Interesting.

“Well,” she drawled, trying to decide where to begin and how much she wanted to divulge. Talking about old beaus with new beaus could be a tricky business, so she opted for the less is more approach.

“Richard and I worked for the same advertising firm. We could talk about anything work related and I thought we made a pretty good team. We had good times together, too. You know how it is when you find someone who shares your interests. But when it came to personal things, like my relationship with my mother or my well-being, I didn’t tell him anything. I didn’t consciously make the decision not to, I just never did. I’m very closemouthed about my personal life as a rule. Looking back, however, I realize it was instinct. I never really knew for certain if he’d use that information against me somehow. As it turned out, I was right.”

“What happened?”

“He got promoted and I got fired. Not that I blame him for that, but he knew about it and didn’t warn me.”

“You got fired? When?”

“Last month. Before I came here.”

“That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“What more can I say? It happens. What difference could it make to you?”

“A big difference. Damn, the last thing I’m going to do is take your money when you don’t have a job. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You really are too sweet. Is that another of your rules? A Lowcountry man never takes money from a lady down on her luck?”

“If it wasn’t before it is now.”

“Not to worry,” she replied, liking him even more. “This lady is fine in that department. I can afford a porch. Maybe not a house, but a porch, yes.”

“No.”

“Brett, please, don’t argue,” she said, stopping what she could see was a torrent of words about to spill from his open mouth. “This is something I need to do. It’s hard to explain, but I need to do something to help Mama, to make her feel better in any way I can. There have been so many years of meaningless exchanges between us. I know this will make a difference to her and I want it to come from me. Whatever the cost financially, I don’t care. It’s the emotional cost if I don’t do it that’s prohibitive.”

Brett considered this. “It won’t be much.”

“Oh, no you don’t. No cutting any corners or pricing your time cheap. I respect hard work and value a job well-done. Though I appreciate the thought.”

“You forget. I care about Miss Lovie, too.” He paused then asked, “She’s very ill, isn’t she?”

She dreaded going into this discussion tonight yet knew it couldn’t be avoided. She nodded. “She has cancer.”

He lowered his head.

Cara reached out to place her hand over his. “Brett, I really want to thank you for taking the job. I realize I came on strong earlier. Maybe I was a little pushy. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be. It’s just that I felt this sudden panic. The doctor thinks she may only have this summer and I wanted to do this for her before—” She sighed. “Before it was too late.”

“I thought it was something like that. She looks kind of frail.”

“I know. It’s hard to see her this way. It kills me when she won’t eat or when she has to pause for breath. And she’s beginning to cough now, too. Did you notice that? It scares me. I feel so helpless just standing by. When I see a problem I like to step in and fix it. But I can’t fix this.”

“No, you can’t. Nobody can. It’s nature.” He turned his palm over to wrap his fingers around her wrist. “I hope you don’t mind my speaking honestly. We all look at death as an aberrance of nature. Something that has to be fixed. Every day I see nature at work and not all of it is pretty. Life is just plain dangerous and sometimes cruel. But it’s beautiful, too. We have to remember that at times like this. It’s hard to watch Miss Lovie pass on because we love her. But if it’s her turn, our challenge is to help her through it, not to fight it. That just makes it harder for her.”

“But sixty-nine is so young. It’s not fair.”

“Who said life was fair? When a child dies, is that fair? Are wars or disease fair? Or even when a ghost crab grabs hold of a hatchling just after it pops out of the nest. Is that fair?”

“Oh, please,” she said sharply, tugging her hand away in annoyance. “I don’t want to hear platitudes. This isn’t some abstract intellectual discussion.”

He looked slightly wounded.

“Look,” she tried to explain. “When I read in the papers about a tragedy in which someone dies I feel saddened and say, ‘Oh, that’s too bad.’ Even when someone I vaguely know dies, I manage to go on about my business. But this is about my mother. I feel it intensely and it makes me so angry to feel so helpless.” She brought her hands to her face. “I don’t want my mother to die.”

Brett came around the table to sit by her side and put his arms around her. She felt very small and leaned into him, relishing the comfort she found there.

“I’m so scared. There’s so little I can do.”

“You’re doing a lot. You’ve come home, which I’m sure means a lot to her. And now you’re rebuilding the beach house, which means so much to you both. It doesn’t take brains to see the symbolism in that.”

“It feels like everything is spinning out of control.”

“Maybe it’s spinning into focus.”

She sniffed against his chest. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’m too much in the thick of it to see clearly. I have to get through to the other side first. It scares me that it’s all just beginning. I feel all alone.”

“But you’re not. I’ll be here.”

He didn’t say anything more, only tightened his arms around her. When he lowered his head to hers there was no nervousness or wondering whether she’d given the wrong cues. The current between them felt as natural and powerful as the flow of the mighty waterway yards away.

The following morning when Cara and Lovie returned home from their duties on the beach, the house seemed unusually quiet. No music blaring from the CD while Toy went through her morning chores, no humming in the kitchen. Cara saw Lovie standing rigid in the middle of the room with her head cocked.

“Listen,” she whispered to Cara, waving her closer. “Do you hear someone crying?”

Cara stood still and listened to the sniffling and muffled curses coming from Toy’s room. Lately, Toy had been keeping herself separate, going to her bedroom and closing the door. Meeting her mother’s eyes, Cara said sotto voce, “She’s been moody lately. It’s probably her pregnancy.”

“Moody is one thing but crying is something else entirely.” With a determined tred, Lovie led the way to Toy’s bedroom. The door was ajar and, peeking in, they found her sitting hunched over a great knot of fabric that was obviously stuck in the angrily buzzing sewing machine. Toy was wearing a short, fuzzy blue robe that revealed thin, tanned legs and bare toes painted a bright violet. She looked up as they entered, her face distraught.

“It’s ruined,” Toy wailed, giving a frustrated yank at the fabric. “I tried and I tried and I just can’t get this damn thing to work out right. I hate sewing.”

“Honey,” Lovie said, placing a calming hand on Toy’s shoulder. “Why didn’t you ask me to help?”

“I didn’t want to trouble you and I thought I could do it on my own. It didn’t look so hard when I picked out the pattern. It’s this fabric. It’s so slippery!” She angrily tossed the trailing piece of fabric off her lap.

“Bless your heart. You probably didn’t know that’s a very difficult fabric to sew,” Lovie said.

“Especially for me. I’m so stupid.”

“No, you are not,” Cara said, jumping into the fray.

“Then how come I can’t do it? Lots of people can sew.”

“It’s not your fault that you’re having a hard time with this project,” Lovie said looking at the pattern. “Anyone would. It’s also a difficult pattern. If you don’t mind my asking, have you ever had sewing lessons?”

“Just the basics in seventh grade. We made a pillow or something like that. I thought I could figure it out. But all these steps…It’s so hard.”

“Sewing is one of my most favorite things in the world to do. It’s not the least bit hard. But you can’t build a house until you learn how to hammer a nail.” Her gaze glided over to Cara, a sparkle in her eyes. “Isn’t that right, Cara?”

Cara let it slide. “Mama’s right,” she said to Toy. “If anyone can teach you, she can.”

Toy remained sullen and silent.

“Nothing worth doing is ever easy,” Lovie continued. “I’d be pleased to teach you. And I don’t think we could do any more harm to that fabric. Don’t look so glum. What do you say to the idea of going to town to pick out an easier pattern? We’ll find a nice, crisp cotton fabric. Something that won’t be slippery and get caught in the machine.”

“I’ll take her for you,” Cara said. “The trip to town might be a bit much for you.”

“I don’t need to be mollycoddled. I want to go to town.”

Cara could see in her mother’s eyes her dismay at facing the reality that she wasn’t up to shopping excursions any longer.

“Oh, very well. But in the meantime,” Lovie said, turning to Toy, “a little bird told me that you have a birthday coming up. Shame on you for not telling me.”

“It’s no big deal. I don’t expect you to do nothing.”

“But of course we should do something. Your eighteenth birthday! That’s a milestone.”

Toy’s face reddened and she squirmed in her seat. “If, you know, you’re thinking to get me anything at all, well, I’d be grateful if you’d get something for the baby instead. I can get by, but I don’t have a thing for the baby and I need just about everything. That’s what I’m saving all my money for.”

Cara was moved, remembering the days when she was Toy’s age and starting out in Chicago without two dimes to rub together. She would never forget that particular kind of fear.

“You’ll be getting lots of things for the baby when we give you a baby shower,” Cara said, privately determined to make certain Toy had whatever she needed. “But for your eighteenth birthday, you must get something just for you.”

“Let us buy you a dress or two,” Lovie cajoled. “To make you feel pretty.”

“No, ma’am, it wouldn’t be right. I can make my own clothes. I’m just getting the hang of it.”

Lovie looked pointedly at the pitiful mess all caught in the needle. Toy, looking at it again, burst into tears.

Cara and Lovie exchanged a long look, both sure it had to be the hormones.

“There’s no use arguing,” Cara said with a gentle laugh. “She’ll wear you down eventually. Then, of course, after she was done you’d have to go round two with me. Just say yes and let us have the pleasure of buying you a little something for your birthday.”

Toy’s face twisted in confusion and Cara felt a pang of sympathy for her. Her pride was kicking in and she was trying to save face. “Please, Toy,” she said, coaxing. “We really won’t give up until you say yes. And it will make Mama happy to do this for you.”

Toy wiped her eyes and Cara saw that the tears had been replaced with relief.

“Okay,” she said with an embarrassed shrug of her shoulders. “If it’ll make Miss Lovie happy, maybe just one dress.”

Later that afternoon, Cara and Toy sat at an outside umbrella table at Port City Java for lunch. At their feet were large bags burgeoning with several maternity dresses, shorts and tops made of light, beautiful fabrics of a quality and style unlike any Toy had owned before. She didn’t even know that there was such a thing as a maternity swimsuit! There was also a brand-new layette for the baby—little tops and bottoms too cute for words.

In the back of her mind, Cara knew she should be careful with her money now that she had no income. But she didn’t care. She was having a ball. In Chicago she’d been too busy to do much shopping and she’d never enjoyed it anyway. At her favorite clothing stores she had saleswomen set things aside for her to try on. For gifts, she’d found it more efficient to pick up the phone, order online or send a gift certificate.

But today had been a whole new experience for her. Toy’s excited expression as she tried on dress after dress and the sound of her “oohs” over a pair of shoes were pure pleasure. Cara remembered standing in the layette section of Belk’s department store. She and Toy had giggled like schoolgirls at seeing the layout of pastel infant clothing, especially the teensy knitted sweaters with adorable bears and kittens embroidered on them. Toy had wanted just to touch them. Cara had watched her stroll through the department skimming the fabrics with her fingertips, an expression of awe on her face.

“They’re so little,” she’d said, voicing Cara’s own thought.

“Why not try one on for size?”

Toy laughed. “Pink or blue?”

“Hmm…Yellow I think. We wouldn’t want to insult Baby.” It was more fun than serious, rather like trying on makeup or jewelry.

“What do you think?” Toy had asked as she gingerly held up a newborn “onesie” to her belly. Delicate lace and tiny embroidered ducklings bordered the soft yellow fabric. As the outfit lay against Toy’s body, the reality that in the not-too-distant future a new baby would indeed be wearing the tiny garment changed the mood. Tears moistened their eyes.

Cara had bought the yellow outfit on the spot, and several more like it. The more Toy said she didn’t want anything, the more determined Cara was to buy her something extra.

Cara found herself smiling at the memory and she cast an affectionate glance across the table at Toy, who was hungrily devouring her sandwich. It occurred to Cara that if she’d had a child at Toy’s age, that child would be older than Toy now.

What was having a baby like, she wondered? What was it like to bring another human being into the world? She sneaked a quick glance at Toy’s belly, trying to imagine the feel of life inside her. She couldn’t.

Being a mother meant she’d be responsible for that child for life. She’d have to have a job, a place to live and the means to provide. She supposed that wasn’t so very different than what she was doing right now. What would be different was the loss of her independence because there’d be this little creature tugging at her skirts needing to be taken care of. Mama used to tell her that, from the moment she saw her firstborn’s face, she never had another good night’s sleep.

She tried to imagine herself a mother, holding her baby to her breast, seeing her face for the first time. Seeing a part of herself in the eyes of another being. She warmed to the vision.

Then she felt a sudden sense of loss. She’d likely never have a child.

Cara sat blinking in the afternoon sun dazed with the full impact of the realization. It wasn’t that she’d actually decided not to have children, more that she’d been busy building her career and never got around to thinking about it. Now here she was, forty, sitting at a little outdoor bistro with an iced cappuccino, suddenly realizing that she’d forgotten to have children.

“I sure wish Miss Lovie could’ve come with us,” Toy was saying to her. “She’d love this sandwich.”

Cara turned her head, realizing that Toy was speaking to her. “What? I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Maybe we should bring one of these sandwiches home for Miss Lovie?”

Cara brought her wandering mind quickly back into focus. Dragging her emotions along was a bit harder. She took a deep breath. “It’s a nice idea, but I don’t think Mama’d eat it. It’s pretty spicy and her appetite is dwindling to nothing.”

Toy put down her sandwich with a dramatic show of concern. “Don’t I know it! I’m trying to cook all manner of things that she might like, but I swear, no matter what I make she picks at it like a bird.”

“Don’t take it personally, Toy. It’s the illness. I had a long talk with her doctor the other day and he thinks she’s doing pretty well, considering. Her energy level is good and her mood is up. But he warned me that it won’t be long before she’ll start to…” She hesitated. She didn’t want to voice his word: deteriorate. That sounded so inhuman. Like a specimen breaking down in a lab or a piece of fruit withering in the refrigerator. “Soon it will be a struggle to get her to eat at all.”

Toy’s face reflected the dismay they both felt. “I can’t believe it’s really happening.”

Cara set down her fork. “I know. It will be hard. We’ll need each other then, Toy, for help and support.”

Toy nodded solemnly.

“I keep thinking of her the way she was when I was growing up. She had so much energy. And my, did she love to shop. This trip would have been right up her alley. She was on a first-name basis with the sales clerks in every boutique on King Street.” Cara smiled remembering. “You should have seen her back then. She was such a belle. She had this tiny waist and beautiful blond hair. She always looked just so.” Cara laughed in a self-deprecating manner. “What a pair we made. I always felt like the gangly sidekick. Going shopping for dresses with her was torture. When I tried things on I felt so big and gawky next to her. The nicer she was the crankier I became. She never understood that I wished I looked like her. But I couldn’t tell her that, of course. I probably didn’t even realize it at the time. Our shopping trips always ended with a quarrel and days of self-loathing. I think that’s why I hate shopping or wearing dresses to this day.”

She saw Toy’s expression change to a guilt-ridden worry. “Oh, but I loved shopping with you today,” Cara hurried to assure her. “After all, you and Baby were trying on all the clothes. I got to sit back and enjoy.”

Toy seemed to believe her. “Well,” she said in an airy tone, “you turned out just fine. I wish I were as tall as you. You look like a model.”

“Hardly, but speaking of which, Mama will ask you to model everything when we get back. Just you wait.”

Toy picked up her sandwich with both hands and took an enormous bite. She started to say something else, but stopped and waited to finish chewing. Cara held back her smile.

Toy pointed to Cara’s plate. “Is that all you’re eating? I feel like a cow next to you.”

“I’m going out with Brett for dinner, so I’m leaving lots of room.”

“Again?”

For a second, Cara was caught up in her memories of the night before. She’d spent half the night trying to work out why she was so pleased with the evening when she still hadn’t gone much beyond kissing. Though it was a great kiss.

“We’re going to go over the plans for the porch tonight,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone to quash the “Do tell!” in Toy’s eyes. “He thinks he can start work by the end of the week. Can you believe it?”

“I think he’d move mountains for you.”

“What do you mean?”

Toy wiped her mouth with an exaggerated demure pat of the napkin. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Cara tried not to grin as she looked down and stirred her ice with the straw. “No, that’s not the reason he’s doing the job. I told him about Mama’s condition and it was like lighting a match under that man. He can’t get the job done fast enough. It’s very sweet, actually.”

“That’s because he’s a sweet man. Quiet but strong, you know? There aren’t many of them out there, as far as I can tell.”

“Take my word on it. There aren’t.”

“I don’t think Darryl ever looked at me the way Brett looks at you.”

“What do you care about the way he looked at you?”

Toy set her half-eaten sandwich back down on the plate. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I didn’t want to worry Miss Lovie, so it’s good we can talk about it while we’re alone.”

“I’m all ears.”

“It’s Darryl. I called him. Just to see how he was,” she hurried to add when she saw the spark ignite in Cara’s eyes. “We were together for a long time, you know?”

Cara stirred her ice and tried to keep her voice even when inside she was roiling. “And what did he have to say for himself?”

“Not much. He’s such a creep. There was another girl with him and he didn’t care if I knew it. I think he even wanted me to hear her. To punish me, you know?” She snorted. “As if.”

“Still, the betrayal hurt, I’m sure,” Cara responded, thinking of Richard.

Toy nodded grimly.

“Well, good riddance to rubbish, right?”

Toy shifted in her seat and kept her eyes down.

“Is there something else?”

“He must have caller ID or Star 69’d me or something ‘cause he knows my number now. I mean, your number. He called me the other day—but I hung up on him.”

“I see.” Cara sat back in her chair while a thousand possibilities whirred in her mind, none of them good. “What do you think he might do?”

“Darryl? With him anything’s possible. He thinks I, like, belong to him, you know?”

Cara felt her heart accelerate. “So, do you think he might come to the house?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice low with fear. “I told him not to.”

“Okay, good. What did he say? Exactly?”

“I don’t remember exactly. Something about how I couldn’t tell him what to do, and if he comes, he’s taking me back with him.” Her voice was beginning to tremble. “I know when he talks like that, soft and kinda weird, that he’s really mad.”

“There’s no point panicking. It can’t be good for your baby. Why don’t you drink some of your juice and then you can tell me more about the man.”

Toy nodded, settling down. She sipped some juice, then followed Cara’s lead and ate more of her sandwich. Although Cara’s outward appearance was calm, she was very worried and fighting off the urge to run home and lock all the doors.

“What does Darryl do for a living?” she wanted to know.

“Well, what he really wants to do is play in his band. He’s really good. You should hear him. It’s kind of country rock. He writes his own songs, too. Wrote one about me. He keeps talking about going to California so he can get noticed. He says there’s no one gonna discover him around here. All he needs is one break and he’s going to make it.”

Cara didn’t care for the sound of pride in Toy’s voice. “Does he support himself with his music?”

“No. Not yet, anyway. He works other jobs. Last job he had was at Best Buy selling stereos and stuff like that. Before that he tended bar. He likes to be around music.”

“Tended bar? How old is this guy?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four? But you just turned eighteen. How old were you when you started going out with him?”

“Sixteen, but I didn’t move in with him until I was seventeen,” she hastened to explain. “He said I was too young before.”

“And he didn’t think a high school girl of sixteen was too young for a twenty-two-year-old man? Doesn’t he know the law, for Christ’s sake? Toy, one false move from him and you could send his butt to jail.”

“I don’t want to do that! I told you, I love him and he’s been real good to me. He took care of me when my parents were so mean.”

All Cara could think was how utterly horrid the parents must be to let their underage daughter go off with an older man like that. “Do you think this Darryl still loves you?” When Toy only looked down and shrugged she asked, “Well, more to the point, do you think he still feels that he owns you? Because if he does, then I’d say it’s likely he’ll show up.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Really. I was just lonely for him and wanted to hear his voice. I didn’t think that he could trace me. Are you sure he can get the address?”

“If he wants to find you, he can. We should be prepared in any event. I don’t want him bothering my mother.”

“Oh, don’t worry that he’ll do anything to Miss Lovie or to you! He’s not crazy like that. If he comes, he’ll just come for me. And I’ll go with him so there won’t be no trouble.”

“Oh, yes, there will be trouble if that jerk thinks we’ll let him force you back.” Despite her resolve, she’d raised her voice at the thought of some bully dragging Toy away against her will.

“I don’t want any trouble, Cara,” she said, fear in her eyes. “Maybe I should just leave.”

“I know you don’t want trouble,” she said in a softer tone. “That never crossed my mind. But if there is trouble, is there anyplace else you could go? Just for a few days? Not for our sakes, but for yours. How about your mother’s? Just for a night?”

“No. They don’t want me back and I’d never go back, either. That’s how I ended up going to the shelter in the first place. If I don’t stay here, the only place left is the shelter. Or I could just go back with Darryl.”

“That’s out of the question. Besides, you’d only face this situation again sooner or later.” For a moment, neither of them spoke. “No, it’s best you stay put. We’ll work it out somehow.”

“Cara, as much as I love living with you and Miss Lovie—I mean, it’s as close as I’ve ever come to having a real home—maybe it’s better that I go with Darryl now.”

Cara put her elbows on the table and tapped her lips at the innuendo. At times like this she was sorry she’d given up smoking. She studied Toy’s face and saw again the stubborn determination that she’d seen in her eyes the first time they’d met. “Just answer me this. Do you want to go back to him?”

Toy only stared back, her blue eyes limpid with indecision.

Cara shook her head. “Oh, Toy…”

“I’m so confused! I don’t know what to do,” she cried, bringing her hand to her forehead. “I still love him. I don’t want to lose him. He’s the father of my baby.” She threw up her hands and sat back in a huff. “And now you’re all mad at me. Or disgusted.”

“No, no, Toy, I’m not mad. And certainly not disgusted. These are your feelings. And while I may not agree with them, I accept that’s how you feel. What I’m most concerned about now is your safety, and your baby’s safety.”

“I’m scared for my baby, too. I’m not worried about what he might do to me.”

“You should be, Toy. Don’t forget, he’s raised his hand to you once already. You can’t give him another chance.”

“I won’t. But he won’t want to do it, either.”

“Do you want to take the risk with your baby?”

“No.”

“Okay then. It sounds to me like you’re not ready to go back to Darryl. At least not yet.”

Toy shook her head.

“Then that’s settled. You’ll stay with us. But if he calls again, will you tell me?”

“He won’t.”

“But if he does?”

“I’ll tell you.”

“And anything else. Notes, flowers, but especially if he comes to the cottage. You have to tell me. That’s all I ask.”

“Okay.”

Cara could only hope she would. She swore she would not let Darryl take advantage of this child again and was suddenly glad at the prospect of having Brett around the house for the next few weeks. She made a point of picking up her fork and jabbing at her salad to lighten the mood. If she ate a bite, however, she’d choke. Across from her, Toy was despondent. Cara wouldn’t let that bastard Darryl ruin their day.

“I was thinking,” she said, changing the subject and striving for a positive note. “If you’re not too tired, let’s really splurge and get manicures. The yard work has ruined my nails. I’ve heard raves about a salon called Shear Paradise. And since it’s your eighteenth birthday, why not get your hair done? Something new. I’m told Terri is a wizard. What do you say I try and get an appointment?”

“Really? I’ve seen that place. Are you sure?”

Cara looked at Toy’s face. A makeover was just what she had in mind, but for much more than just her hair and clothes. Beneath the heavy makeup and bright-yellow hair Cara saw an insecure young girl seeking direction. Toy had a good heart and a sharp mind. All she needed was a chance. “I’m sure.”

A waitress came to take their plates.

“No, don’t take that!” Toy said when the waitress reached for her dessert. Toy picked up her fork and began cutting into the pecan pie covered with melting vanilla ice cream.

Cara watched as the waitress gave Toy’s pregnant belly a second look. The waitress couldn’t have been any older than Toy but with her tight, cropped knit top exposing a flat belly and beaded jewelry, it was obvious that this girl lived in a different world than Toy. Cara leaned forward. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but did you get your high school diploma?”

Toy shook her head. “I couldn’t. I mean, I could have, but my being pregnant and all made it, you know, too embarrassing. And Darryl didn’t want me to. He told me I didn’t need it. I just figured if I wanted to, I could get it later.”

“And do you want it?”

She looked up, surprised by the question. “I guess.”

“Good. Because you really should get it. Why don’t we look into the GED? I’ll bet if you study real hard, you could take the test by the end of summer. I’ll tutor.”

“Why would you want to do that for me?”

Cara folded her hands on the table. “I was just thinking. If I’d had a child when I was your age, she would be about your age. I know, I know,” she said with a chuckle. “The thought surprised me, too. But after I got over the shock that I was old enough to be your mother, I thought how neat it would be if I did have a child your age. A daughter like you.”

Toy set down her fork. “I never knew you thought that way about me.”

“We may have gotten off to a bumpy start, but I think we’ve both learned to trust each other a little bit. And like each other, too. Don’t you?”

She nodded. “I got a hint after you took down Palmer for me.”

“I’ll probably never have a child,” she said, giving voice to the realization for the first time. “Or a grandchild. So it would mean a lot to me if you’d let me help you.”

Toy swiftly looked down at her belly and began to stroke it with her small hands. “It’s weird, but when I was little and my mama and daddy would fight, I’d put the covers over my head and wish I could be adopted by some other family. A real nice family with a pretty house and people who smiled and talked to each other and said goodbye when they left the house.” She looked up at Cara, yearning swimming in her pale blue eyes.

“I’ve been so happy at Primrose Cottage. It’s like what I dreamed of back then, like you and Miss Lovie have adopted me. But you haven’t, of course,” she hurried to add, as though embarrassed for the sentiment. “I’m grown-up now. And having a baby to boot. But I want you to know that what you just said means a lot to me. A whole lot.”

Cara’s breath stilled in her throat as the impact of that statement sank in. She knew what it had cost Toy to make it. They’d both exposed their vulnerable spots and now everything had changed between them. Cara reached out to place her hand over Toy’s. It was an impulsive move, a heartfelt gesture. But when she looked at their joined hands, Cara realized that she was imitating her mother’s familiar gesture.

Up to eighteen thousand loggerheads per season nest in the southeastern United States, the bulk of them on the eastern beaches of Florida. Sea turtles travel long distances as they migrate between their feeding grounds and nesting beaches. Although there are many theories, no one is certain how the turtles navigate their way.