The Summer Wind (16 page)

Harper saw the relief and gratitude in Dora’s eyes, then dug deep and let the perceived slight go. It was better this way than if they both went to Florida, she thought. Divide and conquer. Carson could take care of Nate, and she’d take care of Dora.

“The other day you asked for help. We’re just trying to give it to you,” Harper told her. “While Carson takes Nate to Florida,
I’ll help you get started on a workout program. We’ll have fun. We’ll get manis and pedis. We’ll have massages. We’ll do whatever you want to do without thinking about schedules or routines or who needs something. Best of all, while
you
are healing, you can relax knowing that
Nate
is healing, too.”

“I don’t care if I get my nails done,” Dora told her, and sniffed as tears flooded her eyes. “I just want to roam the beaches and sleep.”

God help me
, Harper thought. She wasn’t sure handling Nate wouldn’t be easier than her opinionated and currently emotional sister.

T
he two-block strip of restaurants on Sullivan’s Island was buzzing with chatter and laughter from the summer crowds. Dora grumbled to herself upon seeing the throng of tourists from all over the area crowding the streets looking for an island restaurant to enjoy dinner. The days of Sullivan’s Island being a slow, quiet Mayberry by the sea were long gone. Word got out and now it was tough to find a parking spot for dinner, much less a table. A golf cart, however, was small, and she found a spot on a side street between a tree and a cluster of rocks that she could squeeze into.

She pushed the parking brake and sat for a minute in the island quiet, feeling uneasy. What was she doing here? she asked herself. She was still a married woman, and here she was, going to a bar to meet a man she hadn’t seen in some fifteen years. She should have stayed home with Nate. After all, he was leaving for Florida in a few days. Though, when she’d left,
he was playing video games with Harper and had barely said good-bye. Lucille would feed him dinner and she’d be home by the time he went to bed.

Dora knew the anxiety lay in herself. She was reluctant to let Nate go, afraid that something might happen to him if she wasn’t with him. She was also nervous about tonight—saying the wrong thing or doing something tactless with Devlin. What would they talk about?

She checked her watch. If she was going to meet Devlin, she had to go now. She hated being late. She brought to mind Devlin’s face. At the memory of the spark she’d felt when he’d asked her for a drink, she felt again a flutter of anticipation. It had been a very long time since she’d gone out with a man for a drink.

Dora gathered her purse and strolled behind a young couple walking arm in arm, talking in that polite way that told her it was probably a first date. It was a night for romance. The air was balmy, not humid, and the fairy lights along the outdoor eating areas were twinkling in the dusky light. Dora felt pretty in her Lilly Pulitzer summer shift. Her blond hair fell softly to her shoulders, tucked behind her ears, which bore pearls. She knew her hairstyle and clothing were much the same as they were in high school, but her mama told her classic never went out of style. When she reached the corner, diners spilled out onto the outdoor umbrella tables.

Dora checked her watch; it was two minutes after five. She sucked in her tummy and stepped inside the door. The booths were crowded with patrons laughing, eating, having a good time. Overhead, the fans were whirring and all the windows were open. She nervously searched the tables for Devlin.

He wasn’t there.

All the giddiness she’d felt coming here fizzled in her stomach. She stood awkwardly at the door, feeling heat color her cheeks. Devlin had not waited for her after all.

Her disappointment was greater than she should have felt. After all, it wasn’t a real date. Devlin merely suggested they have a drink. It was a last-minute gesture, a kindness to an old friend. He may have waited a few minutes, but why would he choose to spend the night here on the off chance she’d show up?

Another couple was trying to enter the restaurant. Dora stepped aside to let them pass. All the tables looked full but she didn’t want to tuck tail and go home. Searching, she spied an open seat at the bar.

She could hear her mother’s voice in her head:
Nice girls don’t sit alone at a bar.
Dora never had. She’d always followed the rules of a good girl.
And look where that got you
, she reminded herself. Tonight she’d showered and put on a pretty dress, took care with her makeup, and even spritzed a bit of scent. To go home now felt defeatist. Dora decided she’d had enough of retreating.

Quieting her mother’s voice in her head, Dora walked straight to the bar stool, feeling like a brazen hussy as she took a seat. She folded her hands on the bar and looked from left to right. Truth was, she felt awkward sitting alone on the stool, as if she were wearing two left shoes.

“What can I get for you, miss?” asked the bartender, stepping up. She recognized the gray-haired man from the times she’d eaten lunch in this pub. He was the manager, and Carson’s former boss. She couldn’t remember his name, and he didn’t recognize her, either.

“A glass of white wine, please,” Dora answered.

“Chardonnay’s the house.”

“That’ll be good.”

He delivered it quickly, then served another customer. Dora took a sip, needing the bolstering.

Time passed agonizingly slowly. She looked idly around at the photographs, designer beer cans, and sports memorabilia that decorated the pub, pretending to take an interest, but it was no use. She wasn’t enjoying herself. Outdoors, the light was fading. She didn’t relish driving home in the dark in the golf cart. Wasn’t even sure the front lights worked. She looked at her watch, then glanced behind the bar, hoping to catch the bartender’s eye for her bill.

“Dora! You came!”

She felt an arm slide around her waist.

“Devlin! You’re here,” Dora said, trying to keep her voice pleasantly disinterested instead of immensely relieved.

“Sure I’m here. Told you I would be.”

“But I didn’t see you.”

“Had to make a quick call. Can’t hear my phone in here. You didn’t think I stood you up, did you? I knew if I did that, Dora Muir would never give me a second chance. Hell, I’m dumb, but I’m not that stupid. I told Bill to keep an eye open for you.” Devlin turned and signaled the bartender, who promptly came with a cold beer and set it in front of him.

“Thanks, Bill. Hey, I told you to keep a lookout for Dora here.”

Bill looked at her, eyes narrowing. “You’re Dora? Sorry. He told me you were Carson’s sister but I didn’t see the resemblance.”

“No one usually does,” Dora replied, then added, “We’re half sisters.”

Devlin said, “Dora’s the pretty one.”

It was cheesy, Dora knew, but his eyes gleamed with sincerity and the compliment warmed her.

“They have the same eyes. That blue,” Devlin said, shaking his head with appreciation.

“Nice to know you,” Bill said with a curt nod. “How’s Mrs. Muir? Haven’t seen her about lately.”

“Good. Real good.”

“Put hers on my tab,” Devlin told him, indicating the wine.

“Got it,” Bill said, then moved on to another customer.

The couple beside Dora stood to leave and Devlin smoothly slid onto the vacant stool.

“You hungry?” he asked, playing the perfectly solicitous gentleman.

Dora shook her head. She hadn’t eaten dinner and the French fries smelled heavenly. Ordinarily she’d have ordered some, just to nibble, but they no longer were on her diet.

Devlin took a long swallow of his beer.

“Bill knows your order without you telling him?” she observed.

“Oh, sure. We go way back. This is kind of my office.”

Dora raised a brow. “Really? I can’t imagine you get much work done here.”

“Enough,” he said with a sly grin. “Real estate is a lot about who you know. And everyone on the island stops by Dunleavy’s.”

“And there’s plenty of beer on tap.”

“That, too,” he agreed with conviviality. “I haven’t seen you
in here this summer. Or anywhere, for that matter. Where you been hiding yourself?”

“Hiding? I live in Summerville. I come here for a few weeks in the summer with my son, Nate. I don’t go out much.”

“What about your husband?”

She paused, noting his increased interest. “He stays in Summerville during the week and comes for the weekends. Or did,” she amended, looking at her wineglass.

“I’d heard you might be getting a divorce.”

Dora looked sharply up. She didn’t like hearing that her private life was being talked about on the island. “From Carson, I suppose?”

He shrugged.

“Uh-huh.” She looked at her wineglass. “We’re separated,” she replied, deliberately vague.

“I’m divorced.”

“Yes, I heard. Sorry.”

“It happens. I’m not gonna lie, it’s tough when you go through it. But I have my little girl to show for it. Cute as a button. The same age as your son.”

Dora turned her head, interested. “How did she fare in the divorce? I’ve heard it can be hard on children.”

His face clouded and she caught a glimpse of hurt behind his happy facade.

“I tried to make it easy for her. Gave my ex-wife all she asked for. But she still made me jump through hoops to see Leigh Anne. That was the hardest part.” He paused for a swig of beer.

“Leigh Anne—isn’t that your mother’s name?”

His eyes sparked with pleasure. “You remembered,” he said with a hint of surprise that she did.

“Of course. Your mother was always very kind to me.”

“She liked you.”

Dora smiled, remembering the heavyset woman with the beautiful, sad eyes.

“She passed a year after Leigh Anne was born. Too young. I felt robbed.” He drew a long swallow of his beer. “Well, she lived to see her first grandchild. I got that much right, at least.”

“I’m sorry, Devlin. I didn’t know your mama passed.” Devlin was an only child, and his mother, divorced, had raised him on her own. They’d been very close.

“It was hard,” he admitted. “I had a couple of dark years after. Looking back, I can see how it wasn’t easy for Ashley. I drank a lot, went out a lot. It cost me my marriage.”

Dora leaned closer as his voice lowered.

“But after a while you work things out, and the hurt and pain passes.”

“I am sorry you went through all that.”

“Life goes on,” he said in a more upbeat tone, clearly wanting to let that line of conversation drop. “You and I, we had something special, you know?” Devlin said, changing the direction. He waved his hand when she made a face. “I’m not just saying this ’cause you’re sitting here. I often think back on those days we were together. How long did we go steady? Four years?”

Dora smiled into her glass. “At least. Till you went off to college.”

“Columbia is only two hours away,” he chided.

“You forget my home was in Charlotte, and without a car, you may as well have been clear across the country,” Dora said archly.

“I called you, you know, when you went off to Converse College.”

She smiled, remembering the tingle she’d felt just hearing his voice again on the phone. “I was already dating Cal.”

“Yeah,” he said slowly. “Bad timing.” His glance leisurely swept her face. “You know, if we’d gotten together again a mite sooner, I might not have married Ashley and you might not’ve married what’s-his-name, and we’d be married right this minute.”

She laughed into her drink. “Maybe,” she agreed. “But then I wouldn’t have Nate and you wouldn’t have your sweet Leigh Anne.”

“We can’t change the past.” Devlin grinned and leaned forward. “But we can change the future,” he added flirtatiously. He turned and signaled to Bill for another round.

Dora slid her elbows onto the bar and swirled the wine in her glass as she listened to Devlin tell a colorful story of how he and his buddies had bagged a marlin. She noticed the pleasant cadence of his speech, the way his Southern accent, heavier than Cal’s, drawled out vowels, and the mirth in his blue eyes as he chuckled.

Devlin was the same amiable person she’d remembered, and yet so very different from the boy she’d dated so many years ago. He’d gained a confidence that replaced his cockiness, an assuredness that came from success. As she watched his animated face, it occurred to her that she wasn’t enjoying the story as much as the music of his voice.

In a moment of sudden clarity, she understood that was how it was for Nate, too. At bedtime he liked her to tell him stories until he fell asleep. When he had a meltdown, she knew
what
she said didn’t matter as much as
how
she said the words to calm him.

She listened to Devlin and sipped her wine, enjoying the simple pleasure of being out and having the attention of a man again. She no longer felt awkward or nervous sitting at the bar. She wasn’t a woman alone. She was with Devlin—an old friend, a former lover. She was merely having a drink at a bar. Yet it wasn’t a date, either. She could stay or she could leave. There were no expectations. No pressure.