t had been one of those dazzling, perfect summer days that Cara knew she would keep tucked away in her memories forever. The sun shone high in a cloudless sky, the ocean was refreshingly cool and the onshore breezes kept the bugs at bay. They stayed out for the whole glorious day, catching their second wind when Brett showed up with a long-tailed kite that looped joyously overhead. The tide was high and, holding hands, Cara, Brett, Linnea and Cooper ran into the surf, squealing. They had great piggyback wars, she with Linnea on her shoulders and Brett with Cooper perched high and crowing on his. When the children grew sleepy, they joined Toy and Julia under the umbrellas to stretch out on towels. The warm air breezes gently dried them while the murmurings of the surf lulled the children to nap.

As the sun began its downward descent, it seemed as though all the people on the beach decided in unison that they were hungry and eager for the holiday feasts and fireworks to come. Folks stood and began folding up their beach chairs and shaking out their towels, calling children in from the water. Toy and Julia scuttled away early to help get the food laid out for dinner. Brett and Cara stayed behind with the children to gather the beach paraphernalia. Cooper ran back to the surf to rinse off his feet only to find them just as sandy by the time he returned to the group. When he made too much of a fuss and kicked the sand in frustration, Cara worried that she’d kept the children out too long and that they would fade out before the fireworks. She looked up to catch Brett’s eye. They exchanged a long look, smiled, then, by unspoken signal, agreed to ignore the child’s outburst.

Linnea stood alone a few feet off, patiently waiting to go home. Her towel was wrapped around her slender shoulders and her teeth were chattering. Cara’s heart lurched at the sight of her. She was in that tender age before hormones kicked in where girls floated somewhere between child and teen. Her white-blond hair was a sharp contrast to her pinkened skin. Cara had discovered today that Linnea was keen to see the baby turtles and she’d extracted a promise from her aunt that she could come out to Primrose Cottage for an extended visit to help baby-sit the nests. Cara looked forward to spending the time together and discovering more about her niece.

“I’m starving,” Cooper said with a pout, leaning against Cara’s leg. She looked down at the scowling tanned face.

“Are you?” she asked with a pouting expression of her own. He nodded seriously and she could feel the scrape of sand against her thigh. The poor little fellow was coated from neck to toe with salt and sand. Her heart pumped with affection. With their dark, wet hair sleeked back, their deeply tanned skin and their brown eyes fixed on one another, Cara thought someone might pass and think they were mother and son, the resemblance was so strong.

“I’m starving, too,” Brett said to the boy, coming up to rub the top of Cooper’s head with his hand. He rested it atop Cara’s shoulder. Cooper turned his head to squint up at the tall man as though trying to figure things out.

Cara felt part of a strange tableau, one that depicted a typical American family celebrating an American holiday. She hadn’t believed in such visions, or the feelings of sweetness and contentment that were running through her at the moment.

“Okeydokey,” Cara replied to both her guys. “We have a mountain of food waiting for you up at the house. If everyone will just grab something to carry, we’ll head up for hot showers, clean clothes and a feast. Linnea, are you ready, honey? Cooper, you can take the lead.”

By the time they’d showered and changed into clean clothes, the tables were overflowing with fried chicken, steamed crabs and shrimp, corn on the cob, pickles, all kinds of greens and salads, biscuits, four pies and two cakes. Lovie lorded over the feast attending to every detail and decoration. Her wispy hair was pinned back from her face and she’d carefully applied her favorite red lipstick, which perfectly complemented her red dress.

In the twinkling fairy lights she appeared to Cara as the charming, vibrant hostess she once was. Cara thought back on all the times she’d watched her mother at the many parties her parents had given at the Charleston house. Caterers in black carried trays of delicious-smelling appetizers and champagne while her mother glided through the rooms chatting with her guests, making introductions, then whirling back into the kitchen to supervise the staff. The huge parties had been an enormous amount of work. But even though she knew her mother was exhausted, Lovie had made it appear effortless.

James and John Peterson, Emmi’s sons, arrived just as they were ready to serve. Cara greeted them warmly, trying to make them feel at ease, but they stepped into the house like condemned men. Their awkward, stiff movements spoke clearly of their eagerness to do their duty for their mother’s sake, then leave as quickly as possible. Emmi’s boys were tall like her and had her red hair, rangy build and green eyes. James, the eldest, was more conservative in dress and manner. He obviously spent more time in the library than on the beach because he was as bright red as a cooked lobster. In contrast, John’s skin was as tanned as shoe leather and his soft hair frizzed out like an aura of spun gold.

“There you are!” Emmi called as she hurried to greet them with hugs and kisses that embarrassed them. “Toy, come on over here. There’s some fellas your age I want you to meet,” she called out, waving her hand to draw Toy over.

Cara felt for the girl as she ducked her head, cheeks aflame, and dragged her feet over to meet them. The boys rocked on their heels, nodded their heads curtly and mumbled their nice-to-meet-yous but their eyes glazed over. Toy kept her eyes averted and mumbled some barely audible hello.

Didn’t they see how pretty she was? Cara wondered as Emmi strained to keep up the conversation. Without those bangs in her eyes, anyone who looked could see that, when she smiled, sweetness shimmered in them like the sun in an azure sky. But the two boys couldn’t see beyond the bulge of her belly. They kept their gazes on the walls, the ceiling, anywhere but on Toy as she stood with her shoulders slumped and her nervous fingers plucking at her gauzy dress as though trying to conceal the obvious swelling of her belly beneath it.

Cara flashed back to a memory of being Toy’s age and feeling awkward and overlooked by handsome boys like James and John—boys like Brett. The pain was still acute just to witness. She wished she could whisper in Toy’s ear that it was okay, that someday it would all be different. Except she knew Toy wouldn’t believe her. The sprinklers whirred in the background, emphasizing the silence that dragged on after they’d exhausted the topic of fireworks displays.

“I think it’s time we all eat,” Lovie announced with a loud voice, mercifully ending the torturous exchange.

Cara led the boys to the tables, away from Toy, where she removed lids and Saran Wrap and placed serving spoons in all the dishes. Once their plates were filled, the two made a beeline out of the house to the front porch where they proceeded to shovel mass amounts into their mouths as quickly as they could.

Gazing around the room she spotted Toy and Linnea sitting together on the rear porch steps—as far away from the boys as they could get. She said a mental thank you to her niece, impressed that she had sensed a wounded spirit and had the kindness of heart to keep Toy company.

Florence, Lovie and Miranda sat together on the front porch. Brett chatted with them for a while, then found his way back to Cara’s side to join Emmi and Julia around the outdoor table.

As predicted, the boys left soon after eating. A cheerful, relaxed mood returned to the small group, even though everyone was aware that Palmer was absent from the family gathering. No one mentioned it, but Cara thought Lovie felt it most intensely. Something had transpired between them during his visit and she was anxious to learn what. When they’d returned from the beach she had found Lovie sitting on the porch, just staring out at the sea. Though she rallied when she saw them and made a great fuss over the children, Cara had been alarmed to see that her eyes were rimmed red, as though she’d been crying.

Julia, on the other hand, seemed to barely notice or care that Palmer wasn’t around. “Oh, he’s always gone,” she said airily when Cara asked her about it. Linnea didn’t seem to care one way or the other and Cooper didn’t even ask where his father was. He sat himself down next to Brett and allowed only this big, tall man to help him crack his crab claws. The little boy was obviously seeking a male role model. Cara wondered if Palmer had any clue as to what he was missing.

Or did Brett?

Emmi, Julia and Cara were wrapping up the last of the food and bringing out the coffee when Florence came in from the porch, her face strained with worry.

“Has anyone seen my mother?”

Cara’s gaze flew about the room. “Wasn’t she out on the porch with you?”

“I thought she came inside a little while ago.” With a frown, she hurried down the hall to the bedrooms calling, “Mother?”

Everyone began to look for Miranda but it didn’t take long to figure out she wasn’t in the house. Cara felt the tension shoot skyward as everyone realized that the old woman might have wandered off in the dark somewhere. Miranda wasn’t senile, but she sometimes was a bit confused.

“I’ll go check my house,” Flo called out as she headed for the door. “She probably just went home.”

Brett went with her, but in a few minutes they returned, not even trying to conceal their worry.

“She’s not there!” Flo exclaimed. “Are you sure she’s not here? Have you checked everywhere?”

“I checked the grounds with the children. She’s not here,” replied Cara.

“Maybe we should call the police,” said Emmi.

Cara heard a gasp and looked at the children’s faces. The mention of the word police had their eyes as round as the moon. “Wait, let’s just think a moment,” she said, interjecting a dose of calmness. “When was the last time anyone remembers seeing her?”

“About thirty minutes ago. We were watching the sunset,” answered Flo.

“Yes, she was talking about the hatchlings,” Lovie added. “I remember her going on about how they like to come out an hour after the sun goes down.”

“What next?”

“We came inside to get coffee,” replied Flo. “I was talking with her about whether the caffeine would get her too jazzed but she wanted some so she’d stay awake for the fireworks. Both Lovie and I came in the kitchen and chatted with you a few minutes while the coffee perked—gee, not long. When we came back out to the porch with her cup, she wasn’t there.”

“So you didn’t see her come into the house?” asked Cara.

“Isn’t the first nest due to hatch any day now?” Emmi asked. “She always likes to go down and check the nests.”

Relief flooded Flo’s face. “That’s got to be where she went. I could bean her for not telling anyone. Lord, I just hope she doesn’t get lost on the way.” She turned on her heel and trotted back toward the door.

“Which street is it, 6th or 27th?” Emmi asked, following her.

“She only cares about the nests on her stretch of beach, so it must be 6th,” Lovie replied as she followed them out the door.

Cara hurried out to the porch to catch up. “Mama, are you sure you’re up to going out again? It’s been a full day and you were pretty tired.”

“You bet I’m sure,” she declared, her eyes dancing. “Miranda has a sixth sense about these things. If she took off like a bird dog for the nest, then I’ll wager there’ll be a boil tonight. Nothing can keep me away! I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me.” The screen door slammed as she followed them down the stairs and disappeared around the corner.

In the house, Julia grabbed hold of her children.

“Oh no, you don’t. Not without your sweatshirts. Those mosquitoes will eat you alive.” When they opened their mouths to argue, she said firmly, “No sweatshirts, no go.”

They weren’t about to waste time arguing. They tugged their sweatshirts from the knapsacks, then ran out the door with Julia in hot pursuit.

Cara heard the swish and slam of the doors and felt a shiver of excitement at the prospect of the first hatching tonight. She hurried to the porch to grab a couple of beach blankets, her cap and the trusty red bucket of supplies. “You coming, Toy?” she called out.

“No, y’all go ahead. I think I’ve had enough beach for one day. I’ll man the fort.”

“You sure, now?” Brett asked solicitously as he passed her at the door. “You don’t mind being alone?”

She blushed a bit at his concern and shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m tired.”

Brett caught up with Cara on the porch. Grabbing hold of the blankets in one hand, he scooped her into an impulsive, possessive kiss that set her spinning, words like lost and found running through her head.

“Been wanting to do that all day,” he said with a low voice as he drew away. Then he took her hand and together they took off down the stairs, running like kids to catch up with the rest of the gang.

Cara and Brett found them all standing with Miranda at the 6th Avenue nest. Most of the holiday revelers were farther down the beach by the pier waiting for the fireworks to begin. Flo’s finger was wagging as she lectured her mother about leaving without telling anyone. The children were dancing on tiptoe, getting all worked up about the prospect of seeing baby turtles. Lovie was on her knees bent over the nest, peering at it through the eerie red glow of her turtle flashlight.

“What’s the verdict?” Cara asked, sinking to her knees beside her in the sand.

“See that depression?” Lovie asked, pointing her light to reveal a dip in the sand. “That’s a clear sign something’s going on down there. Children, do stop jumping around so close to the nest. They’ll never come out if you keep that up.”

Miranda came closer to peer at the nest in the light. “Why don’t you stick your fingers down in there and see if the turtles are on top.”

Lovie shook her head. “Let’s just let them be. They’ll come out in their own good time.”

“Aw, go on and hurry things a bit,” Julia said as she came near. “You used to help them out. The children are all excited.”

“This isn’t a show for the children,” Lovie replied to a chorus of groans. “I used to do a few things I shouldn’t have but we’ve all learned. Remember the time they came out with their lunch pails out? I still feel bad about that.”

“You always bring up that one time.” Flo was resentful since it had happened on her watch. “We covered them right back up.”

“More than once…” Lovie countered.

“What’s a lunch pail?” asked Cooper.

Brett patted the blanket beside him as he stretched his legs out beside Cara, who could sense the teacher in Brett about to slip out. Cooper lost no time claiming the spot beside Brett.

“Well now,” he began in a slow drawl. “The lunch pail is a little yolk sack that gives the hatchling the energy it needs to make it to the Gulf Stream. If he comes out of the nest before he’s eaten his lunch, he’s doomed. You see, once the turtles hatch and run to the sea, they do what’s called a swimming frenzy. They swim without eating for twenty-four hours. That is, if they’re lucky enough not to get eaten themselves by ghost crabs and raccoons on the beach or fish and birds in the sea.”

“It’s like a prison break,” Emmi added for the children. “The baby turtles are just sitting there under the sand, waiting for the signal, while one little guy sneaks out to check things out. Then once they get the all clear—boom! They come scrambling out of the tunnel and run madly to their escape in the sea before they get caught by the crabs.”

“You mean the crabs eat the turtles?” Cooper was horrified.

Brett nodded. “Hatchlings are a gourmet meal for them. They can feel the movement in the sand and tiptoe close. Then the crab chases the little guy and nips him in the ten-dons with his pincers.” Brett reached out to nip at Cooper with two fingers. He squealed in delight and terror and tried to wriggle away. Brett held on firm, laughing and acting out the rest of the tale. “They hold on tight as they drag the poor baby turtle down into the hole, and the very first thing they do is gobble up the eyes.” Cooper squealed again as Brett pretended to be pinching out his eyes.

“Thanks, Brett,” Julia said with exaggeration. “Now I’ll have to deal with nightmares.”

“Don’t you fret. They’ll be too tired to dream tonight,” Lovie said.

“Well, that’s one lecture I slept through in high school,” Cara said with a teasing jab in Brett’s ribs. “Say, Cooper, do you want to get those crabs?”

“Yeah!” His face was furious as he scrambled to his feet.

“Me, too,” exclaimed Linnea.

Brett joined them. They showed Cooper how to stuff the crab holes with wrack and sand. He took to the task like the pirate he was at heart, jabbing the spartina sticks in like swords, shouting, “Take that. And that!” Linnea swept the beach clear of debris and filled ruts with graceful, waltzing movements.

“Like this, Aunt Cara?” she asked, eager to please.

“That’s right, sweetie. You’re doing it just right.”

Soon, all was in readiness for the hatchlings’ race to the sea. They gathered around the nest again to sit and wait in an expectant silence as the moon rose higher in the sky, its light shimmering brightly on the water.

Toy stood before the small mirror over her dresser and brushed her hair, her movements slow and dejected. If she just saw the top of her body in the mirror—just the head, neck and shoulders—then she didn’t look all that different from the richer girls who lived around here. Her new golden brown hair color was real natural-looking and she liked the way it fell softly to her shoulders.

She set the brush on the bureau and, looking down, traced the curve of her belly. But this was all those boys saw, she knew. In their eyes, she wasn’t a teenager anymore. All they saw was someone pregnant, used up and discarded.

“Do you think I’m special?” she asked her baby, stroking the mound of her belly. She hated the tear that rolled down her cheek and wiped it away angrily. What good was crying? She had gotten herself into this mess. She might as well try to get herself out of it.

Lying on the bed were her schoolbooks. A few weeks earlier Cara had knocked on her door, then come in carrying them and a brochure about the GED program. She’d sat with Toy every night at the table and gone over the lessons while Lovie sat with her feet up on the sofa and listened. When Toy passed her first test, Cara hooted with delight. “When you graduate, you can go to college!” She’d said it like she really meant it, too. Not like she was just being nice.

Toy stretched out and opened her algebra book. She didn’t tell Cara this, but she’d never even dreamed of college. College didn’t hold anything for girls like her. She had a baby to take care of. She needed to get a job.

She was tired after all the party preparations and the sunshine, but she’d not done much studying in the past couple of days so she’d just better “buckle down and do it,” as Cara liked to say. Toy had learned a lot of Cara’s sayings. Things like “putting one’s nose to the grindstone” and “not procrastinating.” Toy grinned, saying the word aloud. “Procrastinate.” It was one of those big words she’d always wanted to use and she liked best that it meant exactly what she wanted to say. She’d always thought big words were just for showing off, but now she knew that one right word could say what five or six little ones couldn’t. And that thought helped to lift her spirits.

A while later, while solving simultaneous equations, Toy was distracted by the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel outside. She lay still, her ear cocked, but she didn’t hear anything more. She felt cozy and secure in her little room and wasn’t afraid. There were lots of folks parking in the road to watch the fireworks from the beach. She returned to her algebra, chewing her lip and wishing Cara was home to help her with this problem. She worked on until a short while later she heard the unmistakable popping and thunderous exploding of fireworks.

She stopped working to listen closely. They sounded real close. Maybe she’d be able to see them if she stood out on the deck. Just as she stepped outside, another boom rumbled and color exploded in the sky. She leaned against the railing and arched on tiptoe to look out over the eastern sky. The fireworks were coming from Sullivan’s Island. Two more fired off in rapid succession.

“Oh, baby, if only you could see this,” she said excitedly.

“All I need is to see you.”

Toy startled at the voice coming from the darkness. Her heart pumped so hard it sounded like fireworks exploding in her head. She didn’t need any light to tell her who it was.

“Darryl!”

She heard a shuffling in the sand and gravel and there he was, plain as day. He stood at the bottom of the porch steps with his hands in his pockets and one foot on the first step. She knew she should be afraid or mad, but all she felt was the same traitorous shiver of pleasure she always felt whenever she looked into those baby-blue eyes.

It had been so long since she’d seen him, since a man had looked at her the way he was looking at her now. Not with boredom or disgust, like those Peterson boys had looked at her, but in a way that made her feel the way a woman wanted to feel. He looked good, too. Cleaned up. His brown hair was shorter, cut in a softer style that curled around his neck and open shirt collar in a sexy way. His jeans were dark blue without any stains or holes in them and, looking at the boot on the step, she could see it had real fancy detailing in the spit-polished leather.

“You did something different with your hair,” he said.

Her hand darted to self-consciously tuck a piece behind her ear and she blushed, knowing he was studying her with the same intensity. “I thought I’d try something a little more…mature.” She’d almost said grown-up but thought of the better word.

“Well, it’s different, that’s for sure. You look, I don’t know…real nice.”

Pleasure washed over her, soothing her wounded pride. She remembered how nice he could be and she relaxed.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “I told you not to come.”

“I didn’t mean to cause you no trouble,” he answered. “I have a gig at the Windjammer on the island later, and I thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing. That’s all, Toy. I swear.”

There was something in his eyes that drew her in. A lost, little-boy look that made her want to mother him. She thought of words like lost and found, believing there was someone out there for everyone. “The Windjammer’s a real good gig.”

He moved up a few steps, taking them slow. “Yeah. Me and the guys feel like it’s a break. Never know who’s in the audience around here. This might be the one.” He was standing right in front of her now, staring down at her with his hands at his sides. He wasn’t very tall, not even as tall as Cara, but in her mind she’d thought of him as big. She could smell his cologne and her stomach fluttered with desire.

“I was thinking how you were always there for me, Toy, whenever an important gig came up. My little good luck charm.”

The humidity rose like a mist around them. She could hardly breathe.

“Be there for me tonight, baby.”

Her eyes closed and she leaned into him.

Her belly touched him first. Her eyes flew open and, looking down at the obstacle between them, she laughed nervously. She was relieved beyond words to hear his low chuckle in the dark.

“I told you that little guy was getting between us,” he said.

She smiled tremulously because she didn’t hear any of the meanness she’d heard before whenever he talked about the baby.

“He’s getting big,” she said.

“He’s gonna be a big fella.”

It was odd them talking about the baby—their baby—as if they knew it was a boy. But suddenly she knew it was and she saw in her mind a little Darryl. She brought her hand to her belly to stroke it. She felt a little choked up standing close with her baby and the father. It was almost like being a family.

“When’s he going to be born?”

“September. Around the fifteenth. He’ll be a Virgo.”

“Is that good?”

“They’re all good, silly. A Virgo is smart and good with details. I’m a Gemini. Sensitive.”

“I hear that.” He stepped closer, narrowing the space. “What am I?” His voice was husky.

She licked her lips again. “A Leo. That’s the lion.” For no reason she understood, that suddenly seemed terribly sexy.

“I miss you, Toy. Nothing’s the same without you.” He reached up just to skim her arms gently with his fingertips.

She felt the calluses from his guitar strings on her pliant skin and a flood of memories played back like the lyrics of a beloved song. “I miss you, too,” she said softly, reverently.

He lowered his head and the pull was strong. She tilted hers and closed her eyes. She felt his lips cover hers and press softly, and in her heart she saw only the Darryl that loved her.

“Do you want to come hear me play?” he asked when they pulled apart.

The invitation was unfathomable. To go out. To a club. Like old times. A chance to not be old before her time.

“Just give me a minute.”

She hurried to her room to brush her hair and put on some lip gloss. Grabbing her purse from the bed, she turned off the light and hurried back to Darryl. The algebra book lay open on the bed, forgotten.

Male and female turtles are similar except for the male’s long tail and longer claws on the flippers used to grip a female during mating. Courtship is tempestuous. Males may fight with each other in pursuit of a female. When receptive, the female accepts her suitor.