She let her fingers glide over the black metal bed. This had once been Linnea’s room too, when she’d visited her grandmother and later, when she’d lived here with Cara. Oh the memories…
Across the hall a second bedroom faced the ocean. This had once been her daddy’s bedroom, back when he and Cara were the children. Years later, when Grandmama Lovie had left Charleston and moved back into the beach house, she’d hired Toy Sooner as her live-in caretaker. After Lovie’s passing, Toy married and became a Legare and had a house of her own. In a few weeks, this room would belong to Annabelle.
Linnea closed the door of Hope’s room and walked past the black-framed photographs on the wall, showing generations of family members frolicking on the beach, having barbecue at the cottage, gathered in groups with smiles. There had been many wonderful memories in this house for the Rutledge clan. Looking at the faces, she could name them all.
Stepping into the living room, where yellow pools of light spilled out on the muted colors of the oriental carpet, she thought how she’d always felt safe in this house. More so than in the grand house on Tradd Street in Charleston. This cottage had been a sanctuary for three generations of Rutledge women, and their friends as well. She wondered if Annabelle would feel the magic when she moved in. Linnea wanted to carry on the legacy of the beach house. To be the support and inspiration to others that Cara and her grandmother had been.
The beach house wasn’t very different today from when her grandmother lived in it. A respect for the original design of the house had endured the generations. The only change was when Cara and Brett had enclosed the seaward screened porch into a three seasons room and extended the deck. She’d refreshed the paint, changed fabrics, but the cottage remained intact. As Cara liked to say, why mess with perfection?
Linnea went to pour some apple juice for Hope when she heard a quick knock on the porch door.
“Hello?” came Cara’s voice.
“In here!” Linnea was all smiles, eager to make Hope feel welcome. She picked up the new Barbie doll she’d bought as she turned to greet them.
Hope spied it immediately. “For me?” exclaimed the little girl, her dark-brown eyes lighting up even as her hands reached out. At six, she loved presents.
Linnea caught Cara’s eye and mouthed a thank you for the suggestion.
Cara handed Hope a manila envelope. “It’s all the things you need to know for Hope.” She began to rattle off items using her fingers. “Her doctor’s phone number, her favorite foods, the foods she hates, her favorite games, TV shows, her routine. Anything I could think of to help you. But of course, just call me if you have any questions at all.”
Linnea pulled out two pages of typed notes. “I can’t imagine you’ve left anything out,” she said with a wry smile.
“It’s tough without her going to school. The days get long, believe me,” she added with a roll of the eyes, then sighed. “Two weeks seems forever. I may not make it. I’ve never been away that long before. Not even when she went to the hospital. I slept in her room.” Cara clasped her hands tight as though to keep them from shaking. “I would stay here with her, except I have to take care of David.”
Linnea had never seen Cara so vulnerable. “We’ll be fine,” she said reassuringly. “And you’re just across the street if I need you.”
Cara’s watery eyes brightened. Support, friendship, hope… these were a woman’s lifelines. “I’ll stop by to see her, of course.”
“Is that a good idea?” asked Linnea with trepidation.
Cara’s smile fell. “Why not?”
“I mean, you’ll be in close quarters with someone who might have the virus. That means you could be a carrier too.”
“Oh no, I don’t think so,” Cara said dismissively. “First of all, he probably doesn’t have the virus. This is precautionary. Second, I won’t have any contact with David. I even wear gloves when I bring him food and wash the dishes, collect his laundry. And I spray the house with disinfectant all the time. I order groceries in, so I won’t have exposure. It’ll be fine.”
Linnea had her doubts. If Cara felt that secure, why was she bringing Hope to her house at all? she wanted to argue. Cara was usually very level-headed and was obviously having a hard time with the separation.
“We’ll be fine, won’t we, Hope?” Linnea asked, turning to smile at the little girl. Hope glanced up and returned the smile before focusing again on her new doll. “Now, off you go. Deal with your patient.” She leaned in to kiss Cara’s cheek, then caught herself. “Oops, no! We don’t do that anymore.”
Cara shook her head with a sad smile. “We’ll get through this.”
“We always do.”
* * *
LINNEA GLANCED AT her watch, feeling the need for a glass of wine. Yep, it was almost 5 p.m. She was sitting on the living room floor across a game board from Hope, who was lying on her belly, ignoring the game, obviously as bored as she was. Next to them was a scattered pile of games that they’d already played. Lunch had been a disaster. Nothing Linnea prepared was like Hope’s mother’s—therefore rejected. Hope had settled for plain bread and butter and a glass of water. Linnea put her head in her palm. My God, I’m feeding the child bread and water!
The afternoon had gone smoothly enough. But now the games were done, they both were bored, and the dreaded dinner hour was approaching. Linnea wanted nothing more than for Cara to come by and pick up Hope. Babysitting was done, thank you! How was she going to manage ten to fourteen days?
“I think we’re done with the games for the day, don’t you? How about I make us some dinner?”
Hope didn’t look at her. She appeared dejected and tired as she started picking up the red, blue, green, and yellow game pieces. “I want to go home.”
“I know you do, honey. And you will. As soon as your daddy gets better.”
“I want to go home,” she said, this time louder with a tremor in her voice.
Linnea took a deep breath, then climbed to her feet. They needed a change of scenery, some fresh air, before the child had a meltdown. “Let’s go outside and take a walk,” she suggested in a cheery voice. “What do you say?”
Hope looked up at her, frowning. “No.”
“Come on,” she cajoled. She reached out her hand. “It’ll be fun.”
Seeming unconvinced, Hope took hold of Linnea’s hand and allowed herself to be tugged to her feet.
They slipped into shoes and sweaters, since it was unusually chilly. Linnea gently herded the child out the door into the waning light. The sun was lowering, cooling the air even more. Immediately Hope took off in the direction of the beach—and home. Linnea did some fast thinking.
“This way! There’s something I want to show you.”
Hope stopped and pointed to her house. “No, there.”
“I have to show you something. You’re going to love it. Hurry, now.” She wiggled her fingers in a come on, even as her mind scrambled to think of what she could possibly show that a six-year-old would find amusing.
The azaleas were aflame, honeysuckle filled the air with its cloying scent, and the dunes surrounding the house were sprouting with buds of wildflowers. These were spring glories that she thrilled to—but would a child? No, she thought with a sigh. Linnea searched the natural landscape, and as she did, it dawned on her that she had to see the outdoors with new eyes—with the eyes of a child—filled with awe and wonder.