“Well, we made a stop at the beach.”
“You took her to the beach?”
“Whyever not? She loves it! In fact, the only time she squawked was when I lifted her up to put her back in the stroller.” Flo smiled. “You should’ve seen her. At first, she wasn’t sure what this sand was, scrunching it up in her hand. Then she tried to eat it, of course. Thank heavens I was quick enough. She loved grabbing handfuls of sand and letting it slide through her fingers. Spent at least fifteen minutes doing just that.” She chuckled softly. “This child’s a lowcountry baby, that’s for sure and certain.”
Cara was taken aback. Hope loved the beach? She wished she had been there to share her first visit. Why hadn’t she taken her? What had been more important?
“I’ve been so focused on getting the house settled, I didn’t get to the beach yet.”
“Honey, take it from me. Life’s too short to only do work. From the moment of birth, babies are poised for leaving. Before you know it, this little tyke will be grown and packing up to go to college or move to some other state, and you’ll only have your memories to hold close.”
Cara was quieted by the advice. “I don’t really have a lot of choice in the matter. I have to earn a living.”
“Of course you do. You’ll find a way. Most mothers do. But really, Cara, what did you come here for if you don’t go to the beach?”
Cara couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re right, of course.”
“I know it,” Flo said with a smug smile. She gazed at the baby. “I gave her a bottle, and she fell asleep lickety-split. Look at her,” she said with warmth. “As content as a cat with a belly full of cream.”
Cara looked down at her daughter. Hope’s long lashes rested against her full cheeks, pinkened slightly by the sun. With her dark hair and rosy lips, she looked like a tiny, perfect Snow White.
“You know,” Flo said, looking up again at Cara, “it struck me several times how much Hope looks like you.”
Cara was surprised by this. Delighted. “Like me?” When she looked at the baby, all she saw was glimpses of Elena.
“With her dark hair and eyes. For sure. And she sure loves you. Even when she was having the best time, she’d look for you and ask, ‘Mama?’ ”
“You can’t know how much it means to me to hear that.”
Flo’s eyes glittered. “Did you get your work done?”
It was just like her to deflect emotion. “I did. Thanks to you. Really, you’re a lifesaver.”
“Happy to do it. Hope’s a real charmer.”
Cara took a deep breath and asked, “So, are you free again tomorrow?”
“Aw, honey, this was more exercise than I’ve had in months!”
“You wouldn’t have to walk her every day.”
Flo slowly shook her head. “I’m not strong enough—or fast enough anymore. Sure, I could help you out in an emergency, but for every day you need someone who has the energy to play with her. Someone young who likes children.”
Cara sighed. “Do you know anyone like that?”
“Not anymore. I used to when I did social work. That’s how I found Toy for your mother. But I’ve been out of the system for too long. Don’t worry. You’ll find someone.” Flo began pushing the stroller up the driveway. “For now, though, she’s asleep, and I’m still here. Run and get some more work done. Oh . . .” She turned back. “Don’t forget the party tomorrow night.”
“Of course. What should I bring?”
“The guest of honor, of course. Hope!”
Chapter Five
Under the cloak of night, the loggerhead drags her three-hundred-pound carapace in a tank-like crawl across the beach to the dunes. It is a long, perilous journey for her. She leaves deep, unmistakable tracks in the sand as she plows forward to fulfill her destiny.
WHEN CARA SAW the pink balloons fluttering in the air, tied to the iron gate of Emmi’s house, she felt her heart swell. She really and truly was being welcomed home with her daughter.
Although Emmi’s house was just beyond her driveway, Cara packed like she was going across state lines. Diapers, bottles, wipes, a change of clothes, a blanket, myriad toys. She piled baby and accoutrements in the stroller and headed for the door—then stopped short. She’d forgotten the wine. Cara didn’t have food to share—she hated to cook—but she could always be counted on for a good bottle of red.
The night air held that perfect blend of warmth without humidity that she called island balmy. Though it was six o’clock, the sun was still high in the June sky. Hope had been napping, so she was running late for the party. She plowed the stroller through the crushed-shell driveway she’d just had put down. When she crossed into Emmi’s front garden, she heard the laughter of children coming from the street. Turning, she spotted Toy, sporty in a pink summer top and denim short shorts that showed off her tanned legs, walking up the driveway with her two children. Her left shoulder sagged with the weight of the bag she was toting. Her blond hair was long now and pulled back in a ponytail that made her look even younger than her thirty years.
Then there was Little Lovie. Cara’s heart flipped, and her lips automatically turned up at the sight of the child she’d watched grow from infancy. Her goddaughter had sprouted from a chubby-faced girl into a coltish, beguiling thirteen-year-old with the same smattering of freckles across her nose and wispy blond hair as her mother. Behind her was a mischievous boy of about five who was poking at her bottom with a bird feather. Cara shook her head, smiling. She’d peg him as a Legare any day, with his lanky build and curly brown hair just like his daddy—and his being a dickens. He stopped poking his sister, distracted by Flo’s garden gnome.
Toy spotted her and squealed, “There you are!” She hurried forward, tottering on her espadrilles under the weight of the bag. “Let me see that baby!” She rushed a kiss to Cara’s cheek, gingerly set down the plastic bag that held a covered dish, and, eyes gleaming, bent to look at Hope. “Oh, she’s precious!” she crooned. “She has your coloring. I’ve been dying to hold her since the moment I saw her picture.” She turned her face toward Cara. “May I?”
“Of course. If she’ll let you. She’s a bit clingy with the move and all.”
With the hands of a practiced mother, Toy had Hope unbuckled and in her arms in no time. She rocked her gently from left to right on her curvy hip. Little Lovie and Danny clustered around her, big eyes studying the baby.
“Can I hold her?” asked Little Lovie.
“Not here, honey,” Toy told her. “Maybe when we get inside where you can sit. She’s pretty heavy.”
“I can lift her,” Little Lovie assured her mother, embarrassed by the implication that she was too young.
Her spirit was what Cara loved most about Little Lovie. Her fearlessness and belief in herself. She was a born naturalist who loved bugs, sea turtles, dogs, chickens—any critter, really—more than dolls or jewelry. Brett had taken a special liking to her and treated her as the child he’d never had. Maybe because he was the one who’d found Toy during the worst of Hurricane Brendan and got her to the hospital for Little Lovie’s birth. Her knight in shining armor; there’d been a special bond between them.