Diane Chamberlain - Summer's Child

“I’m glad to hear you say that,” Daria said.

“Daria,” Rory said slowly, “I don’t mean to push you on this. But maybe Shelly is more capable than you give her credit for. Maybe she would be able to take care of a baby with Andy’s help.”

“You don’t know Andy well enough,” Daria said.

“He is nearly as… unreliable as she is. He’s a great carpenter, but he wants to be an EMT and there’s no way he’ll ever pass the test. And do I have to remind you of the accident with the pilot? Grace’s daughter? If it hadn’t been for Shelly’s lapse in judgment during that rescue, Grace’s daughter might still be alive. How can I be sure she’d use any better judgment in taking care of a child?”

What? Shelly raised herself to her elbows to hear better. What was Daria talking about? The pilot was Grace’s daughter? What had she done to cause her death? She searched her memory, racing back over those frantic minutes in the cold water. What had she done? And what was she doing to Daria? Daria was crying on the other side of the window because of her. She’d been the cause of Pete breaking up with her.

She’d had no idea. She’d just gone merrily on her way, thinking Daria was just as happy as she was in the Outer Banks. And now she was standing in the way of her relationship with Rory, as well. But there was no way she could leave the Outer Banks. No way. No way. No way.

If Daria had never found Shelly on the beach, the pilot would still be alive.

Somehow she’d killed the pilot. And she was slowly killing her sister, as well.

Ivory was beginning to get worried. He’d been on the beach nearly an hour, and there was still no sign of Daria or Shelly. He’d helped Jill and her husband build the fires and carry the picnic table from their house to the beach. People had arrived, including Chloe, who was carrying Daria’s baked beans, and Ellen and Ted, sunburned from their day on the fishing pier. Daria would be over soon, they told him; she was with Shelly, who was still a little groggy from her seizure that afternoon. Now he was wondering if he should go to the Sea Shanty to make sure everything was okay.

As darkness fell, Zack and the other teenagers loaded their plates and went off to their own bonfire, away from the adults and the Wheelers’ two youngest granddaughters, who at eight and nine, were caught between the older kids and the grownups and not very happy in either camp.

The adults started eating once the teens had moved away from the food-laden table, but Rory held off, still waiting for Daria. Coppery sparks rose into the sky from the bon fire, and he sat on a beach chair, talking to Linda and Jackie, their dog Melissa lying at his feet. He kept glancing toward the Sea Shanty, and finally spotted Daria walking toward him. He excused himself from Linda and Jackie and went to meet her. Only when he was next to her, did he see that Shelly was with her.

“Hi, Shelly,” he said.

Shelly gave him a halfhearted wave before walking away from them, toward the teenagers.

Putting his arm around Daria’s shoulders, he guided her to the picnic table, covered now with half-empty bowls and trays of food.

“I was getting worried about you,” he said.

“I didn’t want to leave Shelly,” Daria said, looking over her shoulder toward the group of teenagers.

“She hasn’t pulled out of her post-seizure fog the way she usually does.”

“She doesn’t seem like her usual perky self,” he admitted remembering the weak wave she’d offered him.

“She’s not. She’s very… subdued. And she’s not talking to me. She’s angry with me for blowing up at her, I guess. I still feel bad about it.”

“Isn’t she going to eat?” Rory asked.

“I doubt it. She said she’s not hungry.” “What is she usually like after a seizure?” he asked.

“Tired. She usually sleeps for a while, and then she rallies. Not this time, though.”

“Could her pregnancy have something to do with it? Either physically or psychologically?”

“I wondered that myself,” Daria said.

“I’ll have to do some research into seizures during pregnancy.”

Rory handed her a plate.

“The food is different than it was when we were kids,” he said, spooning some of her beans onto his own plate.

“Everything’s low-fat now. It’s all salads and couscous and tabouli.

What happened to the burgers and the barbecue? “

Daria smiled, and he was glad to see it.

“I didn’t realize it, but you’re right,” she said.

“I come to the bonfire every year, so the changes have been gradual for me. But com pared to when we were kids, this is completely different fare.”

“Except for your beans,” he said.

“They’re the only good, down-home cooking on the table. Your mother used to make these, too, didn’t she?” He ate a forkful of the beans before moving on to the next offering.

“Uh-huh.”

“I remember, because I wouldn’t eat them,” he said with a laugh.

“I

thought it was weird that they had all these different-colored beans in them. Didn’t look like the canned kind I was used to. ” He took another bite.

“Didn’t know what I was missing.”

He couldn’t believe he was talking to her about beans and food, when his insides were still churning from their conversation that afternoon. In less than two weeks, the country would divide them. She felt the same way, he could tell by the way she looked at him as they sat down on the beach chairs near the fire. It was a look of resignation and sorrow that made him reach out to touch her arm. He wished they had the beach to themselves rather than having to share it with their neighbors from the cul-de-sac.

Daria suddenly looked over her shoulder in the direction of the cul-de-sac.

“There’s Grace,” she said.

Rory turned around. Sure enough, Grace had crossed through the sea oats and was walking toward them, a large bowl in her arms.

“What’s she doing here?” he said under his breath to Daria. He hadn’t seen Grace, hadn’t even heard from her, since the day he’d told her that he and Daria were together. He stood up and took a step away from the circle to greet her.

“Hi, Rory. Hi, Daria,” Grace said, an uncertain smile on her face.

“I

hope you don’t mind my stopping by. I brought some fruit salad. “

Daria rested her plate on the fire ring and stood up to take the bowl from Grace’s arms.

“We’ve got the food over here,” she said, walking toward the picnic table.

Grace must have caught Rory’s look of confusion as they followed Daria to the table.

“I know you weren’t expecting to see me here,” she said.

“And, Daria, I want you to know how really pleased I am that you and Rory are… you know, seeing each other.”

Daria gave her a half smile.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I think you two are really good together,” Grace continued “But when I remembered that tonight was the bon fire, I decided to come over. I hope that’s all right. It’s just that I knew everyone from the cul-de-sac would be here, and there’s something I need to talk about.

To everyone. “

Why? he wanted to ask. Grace had perplexed him. from the moment he’d met her. He wasn’t sure what she was up to this time, but he didn’t feel like making her his responsibility.

“Okay,” he said.

“Help yourself and come sit by the fire.”

He and Daria waited while she took a couple of spoonfuls of food onto her plate, then the three of them moved to the fire. Rory found an empty beach chair and set it in the sand next to Daria for Grace.

Better next to her than him, he thought. Chloe, who was sitting on the other side of the fire near Ellen and Ted, greeted Grace by name, but the other neighbors merely nodded and smiled in her direction.