The Summer Girls (16 page)

Still looking at the rod, Nate complied and said flatly, “Thank you.”

“It’s a lovely gift,” Dora said, her voice high with enthusiasm. “Thank you so much, Mamaw. He loves it.”

Mamaw’s face fell slightly at Nate’s lackluster reaction, but she rallied and offered Dora a faint smile. “I hope he enjoys it.”

“Oh, he will!” Dora exclaimed. “Won’t you, Nate?”

Nate did not reply. He lowered the rod and shifted uncomfortably under the attention.

Carson saw Harper leaning against the counter, studying the boy silently. Dora’s determination to be enthusiastic over Mamaw’s thoughtfulness was hard to witness and Carson felt a sudden empathy for her.

“You know, Nate,” Carson said in an even voice, “that is a very good rod. Once you start fishing, you’ll love it. Guaranteed.”

“I don’t know how to fish,” he said with little emotion. “My father knows how to fish but he never taught me. He said I wasn’t old enough and too clumsy.”

Carson shot a glance at Dora to see her face twist in sorrow.
Carson cursed Cal for being too damn lazy or uncaring to take his nine-year-old son fishing.

“Nah, you’re the perfect age to learn,” Carson said. “Did you know that Granddaddy taught me when I was even younger than you? We used to sit right out there on the dock and fish for red drum, flounder, all kinds of fish. Then we’d clean them and Lucille would cook them up and serve them swimming in butter with a little lemon and parsley. Remember, Mamaw?”

Mamaw’s eyes warmed at the memory. “Your great-granddaddy is in heaven now, Nate, so it seems only fair that
we
teach you.”

“What do you say?” Carson asked.

“Say?” Nate asked, not understanding the idiom.

“Do you want us to teach you how to fish?” Carson explained.

“No.”

“Oh,” Carson said, deflated.

“I want you to teach me how to play with the dolphin.”

“Dolphin?” asked Dora. “What dolphin?”

Carson groaned inwardly. She wasn’t prepared to share Delphine with anyone.

“The dolphin that comes to the dock,” Nate answered in his matter-of-fact manner. “It’s Aunt Carson’s dolphin.”

Dora looked at her with confusion. “
Your
dolphin?”

“No, of course not. It’s just a wild dolphin that sometimes comes by the dock.”

“Her dolphin has a name,” Nate said. “She calls it Delphine. That is a very good name. Delphine plays with Aunt Carson,” Nate informed them with conviction.

Carson looked around the room to see all eyes glued to her. She sighed. “It’s a long story. If you want to hear it, come down to the dock. Fishing is a slow sport and we’ll have lots of time to yak.”

The afternoon proved to be an enormous success. Mamaw passed out large floppy hats and suntan lotion and Lucille packed a picnic lunch of curried chicken sandwiches on whole wheat bread, pickles, tangerines, homemade oatmeal cookies, and plenty of iced sweet tea. Dora prepared Nate his own picnic of accepted food, which he ate without complaint. The women feasted under the shade of the dock’s roof, then began the great fishing venture.

At first there was a lackluster response from Harper. She relayed a litany of excuses—how she didn’t sit in the sun, how she needed to catch up on work, had e-mails to answer. But Mamaw cajoled her to bring her laptop out on the dock, where she could sit in the shade. Harper obliged and settled under the roof of the dock with her iPad. Meanwhile, Mamaw set bait and helped Nate and Dora cast from the dock.

Carson brought out her camera and it felt good to take her first photographs since leaving Los Angeles. Behind the lens of a camera, Carson was able to catch glimpses of her family in close-up, details of their personalities often missed by the naked eye.

She noticed that Harper was skilled at being invisible. While “the little mouse” stayed quiet and tucked away in
the corner, people forgot she was there, which allowed her to observe private moments. Her fingers were always tapping at her computer or phone. Carson wondered if she was writing wry vignettes to her mother, something along the lines of “Amusing Tales from the South.” Or “Redneck Riviera.”

Little Nate was very intense about everything he did. Every photo showed him with his brow furrowed and his gaze sharp as Mamaw taught him how to set the bait, cast, reel in. To his credit, Nate observed silently, no matter how long Mamaw took to explain things—and she could get long-winded. When it was his turn to try, his little fingers were nimble.

Dora, in contrast, did not engage. She hovered near Nate, whether out of worry or habit Carson couldn’t be sure. She held her fishing rod in a listless fashion, leaning against the railing and gazing off at the sea. In a close-up shot, Carson caught Dora’s beautiful blue eyes swimming in tears.

By midafternoon, the sun was high and the fish weren’t biting. Not that anyone really cared. Carson had slipped a bit of Firefly sweet-tea vodka into the iced tea to give it a little kick and help loosen the tongues. It worked. As Carson set aside her camera, Harper set aside her iPad and the ladies talked amiably about safe subjects such as movies, recipes, happy memories. Only Nate remained relentlessly alert at the pole. Occasionally Carson would hop up to help him cast again, or Dora would reapply suntan lotion on his arms and face.

Suddenly, Mamaw yelped and jerked back her rod. “I got one!”

In a chorus of cheers, everyone leaped to join her. Giddy with her good luck, and perhaps a bit less surefooted from her “tea,” Mamaw hooted while the girls laughed and whistled. Carson leaped for her camera to capture Mamaw’s comical struggle. Mamaw finally reeled in the smallest red drum Carson had ever seen.

Dora laughed at the sight of it dangling from the line. “Sure was a lot of fight for such a puny fish.”

“Hey,” said Carson defensively. “It’s the only fish we caught!”

“Well, take a picture of my prize,” Mamaw said, holding the little fish proudly in the air. “Before I toss it back in.”

Nate was a hound on the scent, close at Mamaw’s side as she grabbed a pair of pliers.

Carson wasn’t sure Mamaw wasn’t too woozy to wield the pliers and stepped in, but Mamaw indignantly waved her aside.

“I’ve been fishing since before you were even a glimmer in your father’s eye. Now, stand back.” She grabbed hold of the fish and deftly removed the hook. “Nate, honey, do you want to do the honors and toss this
puny
fish back into the water?”

“Yes,” Nate replied in a voice husky with fear and excitement. To his credit, he reached out with both hands and clasped the fish tightly. It wiggled but Nate held on as he walked to the front of the dock with his arms held stiffly before him.

Carson followed him, hoping he didn’t squeeze the fish to death before he released it. Looking over the railing, she was surprised to see Delphine, her mouth open and her gaze on Nate holding the fish over the water.

“Don’t feed the dolphin!” she cried out, but it was too late. Nate released the fish.

In a flash, Delphine leaped to catch the fish adeptly in her mouth. She tossed it in the air, caught it again, and dove, disappearing with her treasure.

Nate burst out in a high-pitched laugh of delight. He leaned far over the railing on tiptoe, beaming, as he searched for signs of Delphine. Dora put her hands to her lips, eyes wide in amazement at the sight of her son’s joy. This was the first time she’d seen Nate smile all weekend.

Delphine positioned herself beneath the dock and made a series of staccato, nasal calls to an appreciative audience.

Harper sat at the dock’s edge dangling her feet in the water. Despite generous lotion and her floppy hat, her skin was turning pink. “I think she wants more fish!”

“She’s begging,” Carson said with disapproval, looking down at the dolphin and shaking her head. “She must’ve been fed fish before. That explains why she’s so friendly. Oh, stop it,” she called out to Delphine. “Ladies don’t beg!”

“Is that the same dolphin that was here this morning?” Mamaw asked.

“That’s Delphine,” Nate announced. “She is Carson’s dolphin.”

“She’s not
my
dolphin,” Carson said again, getting the sense she was fighting a losing battle. She looked into the water to see Delphine waiting below, her dark eyes gleaming. “You’re not helping,” Carson told the dolphin, but as always, Carson couldn’t help but smile back.

“How did she get here?” Harper asked. “At our dock?”

Carson tried to downplay the drama. “What can I say? She likes me.”

Mamaw laughed with pleasure. It was a lovely trilling sound, feminine but not silly. “You always were our little mermaid.” She reached out to gently cup Carson’s face in her palm. Then she turned and leaned over the railing to stare imperiously down at the dolphin. Delphine tilted her head, staring back in her beguiling manner.

“You are a pretty thing, aren’t you?” Mamaw declared.

As she straightened, a breeze caught her coral-colored silk scarf and sent it floating in the air. Mamaw gasped and Carson lunged to grab it but the scarf floated just out of her reach, sailed in the air a moment, then landed in the creek.

“Off it goes,” Mamaw said with a sigh. “It was only a Ferragamo.”

Delphine took off after the brightly colored scarf floating in the water. Curious, the dolphin poked at the floating fabric like it was a piece of flotsam, then lifted it in the air and tossed it. She grew excited by the game and swam around the scarf in a tight circle, tossing it a few more times. Then she grabbed the scarf and disappeared with it under the surface.

“You little thief!” Mamaw called out at the widening ripples.

“She’s back!” Harper said, pointing to the dolphin emerging farther out in the cove. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh. My. God.”

Delphine returned to the dock dragging the coral scarf around her pectoral flipper, looking like a lady walking along the boardwalk.

Everyone started laughing then, even Mamaw. She leaned over the dock railing. Beneath her, Delphine was dragging the Ferragamo scarf in her mouth. Carson lowered the camera and gazed at the faces of her family—Harper, Dora, Mamaw, Nate—recognizing that this was a singular moment for them all. Everyone was smiling and laughing, and it was this enigmatic dolphin that had appeared from nowhere to bring them to this tipping point.

“At least you display good taste,” Mamaw called out in her inimitable imperial tone. “Welcome, Delphine, you little minx! I hereby declare you one of my Summer Girls.”

Carson, Harper, and Dora clapped and hooted, united in Mamaw’s welcome of the dolphin. The mood shot upward as Delphine paraded her scarf in the water beneath them.

“I want to catch another fish for Delphine,” Nate declared, walking off to fetch his rod.

“Wait. No. We shouldn’t,” Carson called after him. “There are laws forbidding feeding dolphins. Fines.”

“Oh, why not?” Dora asked, getting caught up in Nate’s enthusiasm. “Who’s going to see us? And what harm can feeding one little fish do? It’s their natural diet, isn’t it? Nate is so excited. I haven’t seen him get so interested in anything else but his video games. And look, she obviously wants it!” She hurried over to Nate’s side.

Mamaw picked up some bait and waved Nate closer. “Bring your rod. You’d better get crackin’, boy. You’ve got a customer waiting.”

“Don’t worry,” Harper said, tapping Carson’s arm in a consoling fashion. “It took all afternoon to catch that one fish. I doubt they’ll catch another.”

Carson crossed her arms in worry, glancing from Delphine to her family. Mamaw and Nate were bent over a hook, head to head, attaching bait. Dora picked up her rod and began casting out. Even Harper had joined the fray, taking Carson’s rod to Mamaw for bait. They were talking to each other, communicating.

Below them, Delphine was still there, head out of the water, watching them with curiosity. The scarf was gone, no doubt tucked away in some safe spot. Carson didn’t have the heart to argue. After all, who was she to interfere? Wasn’t Delphine free to come and go at will? Maybe Dora was right. What harm could come from offering Delphine one little fish?

T
he time for her party had come at last. Mamaw rested in the coolness of her sitting room, the shades drawn against the relentless sun, shuffling a deck of cards. Her hands moved with deft skill, cutting the deck in half, making air whir against her palms as the cards fell into place. One by one, she snapped seven cards onto the small desk to begin yet another game of solitaire. Her hands stilled when she heard a soft knocking on the door.