The Summer's End (33 page)

Harper slammed the front door as she left the house. Her feet pounded on the wood stairs as she fled down them, and then across the gravel driveway to the street. Why did they always see her as the lucky one? Because of money? Didn't they know yet that she was just as adrift, just as vulnerable, as they were?

Her hurt felt as if it were burning a hole in her heart, and tears were streaming down her face, causing her to gasp as she pumped her arms, faster and faster, farther from Sea Breeze. Yet no matter how far or fast she walked, she knew she couldn't outpace the hurt, the regret, and, too, the fear that was nipping at her heels.

Mamaw stood at the entrance to the kitchen staring at the shocked faces of Carson and Dora. They stood silently, looking contrite.

Although Mamaw had not heard all they had said, she'd heard enough. She looked into Carson's eyes. “Shame on you.”

Then Mamaw slowly turned and left.

H
arper pumped her fists as she ran full out along the beach. The tide was going out and her heels dug deep imprints into the sand. She ran until she couldn't run any farther, almost clear to Breach Inlet. Panting, she walked higher up to the dunes and stretched her tired legs in front of her on the warm sand.

She'd run hard, putting distance between herself and the pain she'd felt at Carson's snarky comments. They were nasty and unfair and had hurt her already tender feelings. But the running had taken the sting out of the words, and sitting here, winded and her fury spent, Harper had calmed enough to see Carson's venom for what it was—hurt, jealousy, and fear. All emotions she understood.

Squeezing her fingers in the warm sand, Harper wondered if the words burned more because they came from Carson. She was usually upbeat and genuine. Caring. Harper had always admired
Carson, looked up to her, from the first moment they met.

She recalled the first time she'd seen Carson when Harper had arrived at Sea Breeze. Harper was six years old, like a tiny doll, small and delicate and all fancy dressed in a smocked dress and anklets that had frilly lace trim, with a big bow in her red and gold hair. In contrast, Carson was wearing a sand-crusted swimsuit and torn cutoff jean shorts. She was as brown as a berry, barefoot, and her wild, dark hair was salt dried and sticking out in angles.

Harper loved Carson on the spot. She looked wild and confident, everything Harper wanted to be. What her heroines looked like in her imagination. Carson had taken Harper's hand in a protective manner and led the way to the library, where Mamaw had created a bedroom for Harper. The moment Harper had walked in and seen all the books, she broke into her first smile.

Their friendship had blossomed slowly over that summer. Looking back, Harper saw that it was fate that she'd arrived that particular summer when Dora was letting go of Carson's hand. In doing so, Dora was letting go of her childhood—games and make-believe—and welcoming all the drama associated with teen years. Harper had arrived just in time to fill the void that Dora had left.

In fact, because of all the adventure books she'd read, Harper was better at their games of imagination than even Dora. Oh, the make-believe she and Carson had played!
Tom Sawyer
and
Huck Finn
had them floating down the creek looking for Injun Joe.
Treasure Island
and Mamaw's stories of their illustrious ancestor the Gentleman Pirate sent them hunting for
buried treasure year after year.
Tuck Everlasting
had them convinced they'd find the pool of immortality. And
Peter Pan
was the ultimate adventure for young girls living on an island who loved pirates, mermaids, and fairies.

Looking back, Harper could see how Carson had helped her blossom at Sea Breeze. Every summer Harper would arrive looking like a prim schoolgirl on a class trip. Within a few days of her arrival on Sullivan's Island it was as if she'd removed her timid, submissive self with her fancy clothing and allowed herself to be the bright, inquisitive, adventurous girl lurking inside. She and Carson were inseparable. Their hearts beat with the pulse of the tides.

Then the inevitable happened. Carson, too, grew older and put away her childhood games. The final summer that they'd spent together was mostly whiled away on the beach. At sixteen Carson was consumed by surfing, and eleven-year-old Harper tagged along to sit under an umbrella and read. The next year Mamaw wrote to Harper that Carson wouldn't be coming to Sea Breeze. She'd decided to stay in Los Angeles and get a summer job. Although the invitation remained open for Harper, she didn't want to spend the summer alone. Her mother had just purchased the house in the Hamptons, and Harper elected to spend the summer there instead. And that had been that.

Carson didn't see Harper again until years later at Dora's wedding. They'd both privately groaned at having to wear the pink, frothy gowns but dutifully did their duty. The next time they saw each other was a year later under sadder circumstances. Carson had been too distraught at their father's funeral to share much with her sisters. And soon after, they came together again for Granddad Edward's funeral. All the joy at
Sea Breeze seemed to have been shrouded with sadness.

That was the last time all three sisters had been together at Sea Breeze until this summer. Yet, this summer had proved that time and distance couldn't break the bond they shared. Harper could get mad at her sisters, disagree with their choices, distance herself from them, but they were always with her. They were her blood. Her family.

Now it was time for them to close ranks.

Harper rose and slapped the sand from her damp legs. She slowly stretched while looking out at the serene sea, the waves rolling gently to shore, one after the other. Not many days were left for any of them at Sea Breeze, she realized. Not with the offer to buy hanging over their heads. She didn't want to spend her final days here fighting. They were all on shaky ground now. Hot-tempered and spike-tongued. She didn't want one more moment of anger between them.

Harper knew what she had to do. Turning toward Sea Breeze, she took off on a run.

Carson sat on the dock with her feet dangling in the water, staring idly out at the racing current. She felt like a piece of the driftwood floating by, aimless and of no value. Her left hand clutched a small brown paper bag. Inside was a small bottle of tequila that she'd hidden away when the sisters and Mamaw had all taken the pledge to ban alcohol from Sea Breeze at the beginning of the summer.

Mamaw's words stung.
Shame on you.
Carson felt them deeply because she knew she deserved them. She
was
ashamed.

Carson knew in her heart that Harper's motives to buy Sea Breeze were genuine and selfless, like the woman herself. Harper was amazingly generous, more so than anyone else Carson had ever met. It was not because Harper had money. Carson knew plenty of people who had gobs of dough but held on to it with a miserly fist, always suspicious that someone might be trying to take advantage of them or steal it. They were not nice people to be around. Harper was that rare person who didn't act as if she had money or prestige. If she had any fears or suspicions, they were that people liked her only because of her money, rather than for herself.

Carson put her hands to her face. She was most ashamed because she knew this was Harper's most vulnerable point, her soft underbelly, and she'd targeted it with her barbs.

She was so good at hurting people. After Blake had left her at the coffee shop, she'd wandered around alone for a few hours, in a daze of depression. Blake's parting words resounded in her brain.
You weren't the only one to lose a baby.
Carson squeezed her eyes tight.

Why did she always feel everything was her fault? she wondered. Why couldn't Blake see she wasn't ready to let him or anyone else in that close? She'd lived a life of taking care of herself, taking care of her father. Of trusting her instincts.

What if she was kidding herself? she thought dismally. What if she didn't have good instincts? Look where they'd gotten her so far. She was a complete and utter failure at everything she'd ever tried. Jobs, sports, relationships . . . Even Delphine. The one living creature she'd ever truly bonded with, loved, trusted. Look what had happened to her. All because the dolphin had made the mistake of loving her. What was wrong with her? she agonized.
Other people were getting on with their careers, were married, even had babies. Her sisters . . . especially her sisters. Dora had fallen in love, discovered a new talent, was moving on to her new place. Harper and Taylor were building a future. Once again, she was odd man out. It was fun when she had work and could jet out to some exotic film location. Even if she didn't have someone in her life, she'd had her career. Something to call her own.

What did she have now? She grimaced and put her hands to her face. Nothing. Blake deserved better. She couldn't be with anyone now. She just wanted to be alone. To think.

And to drink.

God help her. Her thirst for alcohol was so strong her body ached and her throat burned for it. She turned her head and looked at the bottle of tequila nestled in the brown bag, thought of all it promised: forgetting, numbness, immunity. Carson smacked her dry lips. She could almost taste it.

She wasn't an alcoholic, her brain was screaming at her. She hadn't had a drink in months. The original bet with her sisters was that she wouldn't drink for a week. She'd proved she wasn't an alcoholic, hadn't she? What was she so afraid of? All she had to do was open the bag, pull out the bottle, unscrew the cap, and take a little sip. Just one sip. To prove she could screw the top back on.

Even in her weak-willed state, Carson could hear the rationalizations of an addict.

The sound of feet running up the narrow wood dock pulled her face from her hands. Carson wiped her eyes and looked over her shoulder to see Harper trotting toward her, a sheen of perspiration on her brow.

Carson felt a rush of love as she rose up and ran to meet her sister at the upper dock. They wrapped arms around each other in a tight hug. Carson felt the moisture on Harper's body and smelled the tangy scent of sweat.

“I'm so ashamed,” Carson cried in her sister's arms. “I'm so sorry.”

“No, no, it's okay. I overreacted.” Harper was crying, too.

“I didn't mean the things I said. They were vile and mean. Ugly.”

“Yeah.” Harper hiccuped.

Carson laughed and pulled away. “You don't have to agree with me.”

Harper saw her sister's red-rimmed eyes. “Just saying . . .”

“You're all sweaty.”

“I know. I've been running.”

“Let's sit down and put our feet in the water. Cool down.”

Carson led the way to the lower dock, a favorite spot of theirs to talk. She discreetly pushed the brown bag with the tequila out of the way.

They sat at the edge of the dock and slipped their legs into the water the way they always did when they came to the lower dock. Harper leaned back on her arms and let the refreshing breeze wash over her.