She pulled away, shaking her head. “Miz Callie said we could sit with her.”
“That’s right.” She waved to the Bodines, gesturing to the benches. “Come on, everyone sit down. Lindsay and I picked the best table here in the shade.”
Short of being rude, there was nothing he could do. Apparently Georgia’s parents felt the same, and in a moment they were all seated around the picnic table.
Spanish moss, drifting in the breeze, made moving shadows on Georgia’s face as she leaned over to hand out cups of ice cream. When she slid one to Lindsay, his daughter shoved it away.
“I don’t want chocolate.”
“Lindsay, that’s your favorite.” Her comment was impolite, but he didn’t want to scold her in front of other people.
Her lips tightened for a moment. Then she took the ice cream. “Thank you,” she muttered.
Miz Callie diverted attention with a comment about the turnout, Georgia’s father responded and the talk became general.
Matt glanced at his child under cover of the conversation. Lindsay was snuggled close to Miz Callie, almost deliberately ignoring the others.
What was that all about? That too-familiar helpless feeling rolled over him. Jennifer had been the one to handle everything where their daughter was concerned, and he’d been so busy getting his career going that he’d let her. Even then, he’d sometimes felt a little envious of their close bond. Now…now too often he felt adrift, ill-prepared for the role he had to fill.
Georgia sat next to her father, her face relaxing when he said something in a low, relaxing tone. For just an instant he envied their closeness.
“Georgia’s always been her daddy’s girl,” Miz Callie said softly. “She missed him terribly when he had to be away.”
“Away?”
“Ashton was in the Coast Guard for thirty years. The boys missed him, too, of course, but it affected Georgia the most.”
So the Bodines were a military family. That went a long way toward explaining Miz Callie’s reluctance to confide in them about her plans.
“Tell me, Mr. Harper. Where were you raised?” Delia Bodine’s question, cutting across the table, startled him.
“Boston,” he said. And not raised so much as thrown out to strive or fail on his own. “I lived there all my life until we moved down here.”
“Let me think.” She gazed at her husband. “Ashton, do we know anybody in Boston?”
“There was that Carlton boy who was in Cole’s year at the Citadel. He was from Boston.”
“Margo Lawton’s daughter married someone from Boston, I believe,” Delia said. “Or Cambridge, maybe. Now, what was his name?”
He recognized what was going on. His partner had explained to him the particularly Southern passion that could be encapsulated in one question:
Who are your family?
They wanted to place people.
Well, they wouldn’t place him, no matter how they tried. “Cambridge is near Boston, isn’t it?” Delia fixed a cool
stare on him. “Was your home anywhere close?”
“More cake, Miz Callie?” Georgia reached for her grandmother’s plate.
Delia broke off her questioning to stare at her daughter’s hand, gasping a little. “Georgia! Your ring! Don’t tell me you’ve lost it. What on earth will James say?”
Georgia snatched her hand back as if she could hide the evidence. “I didn’t lose it, Mamma.”
“Well, then, where is it?”
Delia had forgotten about him. The relief he felt was tempered with regret that his reprieve had come at Georgia’s expense.
Georgia put down the plate she was holding. “I gave it back to James. The engagement is off.”
How much it cost her to say that bluntly in front of all of them, he couldn’t imagine.
“What do you mean?” Delia Bodine looked as horrified as if her daughter had announced that she was taking up bank robbery. “How could you—”
“Enough, Delia.” Georgia’s father didn’t raise his voice, but it held a tone of command. “We can talk about this later. I’m sure Georgia had a good reason for her decision.”
Georgia’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Thank you, Daddy.”
He’d like to say something comforting, but it wasn’t his place. Maybe the best thing he could do for her was make himself scarce, so the Bodine family could have this out in private.
“About done, Lindsay?” He slid off the bench. “I think we should head for home.”
“I don’t want to go yet,” Lindsay wailed. “It’s not late.
Why do we have to go?”
He resisted the urge to explain and held out his hand to his daughter. “It’s time.”
For an instant he thought she’d argue. Then, pouting, she slid off the bench.
“Say good-night to everyone,” he prompted. “Good night,” she mumbled, gaze on her feet.
He was conscious of Delia’s critical eye on his child, and irritation flared. She had no right to criticize. Currently, she wasn’t doing such a great job with her own daughter.
Georgia leaned against her father, and Ashton Bodine put his arm around her.
Matt said good-night, wondering whether he’d ever have that kind of closeness with his child.
Georgia stretched, cracking one eye open to glare at the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. She always put the shade up when she slept in this bedroom so that she could see the stars when she fell asleep and be awakened by the sunlight on the waves. But today she could have easily pulled the covers back over her head.
Instead, she swung her feet to the floor, toes curling into the rag rug that covered the bare boards. Normally she slept soundly, but last night her dreams had been a confused kaleidoscope of people and images. She couldn’t remember specifics, but she’d woken with her throat clogged with unshed tears.
Because of James? Maybe so.
She stretched, trying to shake off the feeling, but it per-sisted, even while she pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and drew her hair into a ponytail.
James had shown he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was—the man she’d fallen in love with. She’d been right to break it off, no matter what anyone said—anyone, in this case, being her mother. She’d tried to explain, hampered by the fact that she didn’t want to tell them she’d lost her job as well as her fiancé. There’d be time enough for that revelation when she’d decided what she was going to do with herself.
And in the meantime, there was Miz Callie’s problem to focus on. She shoved her feet into sneakers and headed for the stairs.
No sign of Miz Callie until she glanced through the sliding glass doors. Her grandmother was on the deck, red plastic bucket in hand, saying something to Lindsay, who looked up at her with an adoring expression.
Grabbing an apple from the pewter bowl on the table, she hurried out to join them.
“Hi. Wow, it’s going to be a hot one.”
Miz Callie settled her floppy hat on her head. “That’s why Lindsay and I are going on turtle patrol so early.”
“You like the turtles, too?” She smiled at Lindsay. The child nodded, but her gaze slid away from Georgia’s. “Come along,” Miz Callie said. “You may as well get
some exercise with us, since you slept right through your runnin’ time.”
“I did, didn’t I?” She stretched again, stifling a yawn, and nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
Miz Callie handed her the bucket, filled with the para-phernalia they’d need if they found a new nest.
Lindsay’s lower lip came out in a pout. “You said I could carry it. That’s not fair.”
Georgia gave the bucket to the child. “Sure thing, Lindsay.”
Lindsay snatched the bucket and spun to hurry down the stairs. A reluctant “thanks” floated back.
Georgia looked at her grandmother as they followed her. Miz Callie shrugged and shook her head in a not-in-front-of-the-child way.
When they reached the packed sand where the walking was easier, Lindsay danced along the lacy ripples of incoming waves.
Miz Callie smiled. “You used to do that very thing.” “All kids do, don’t they? Well, maybe the boys didn’t.
They always had some plan to carry out.”
“Mischief, as often as not.” Miz Callie was smiling.
Lindsay’s small figure looked as light and insubstantial as one of the sandpipers when she spun, her hair swinging in a pale arc.
“She doesn’t like me, does she?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Miz Callie shook her head, sighing a little. “Truth is, she’s probably a bit jealous. You coming along, snagging my attention. And her father’s.”
“I haven’t—” She gulped. “I haven’t snagged Matt’s attention, as you so elegantly put it. I’m only spending time with him because you got me into this.”
“Lindsay doesn’t know that.” Her grandmother watched the child, frowning. “She’s just desperate for folks to make her feel safe in this new place, with her mother gone and all. She’s a bit lost.”
Georgia winced. She’d felt that way herself.
“I should let her have her walk with you.” She stopped. “I could make some excuse…”
Miz Callie linked her arm in Georgia’s. “You’ll do no such thing. Might be good for that child to see that family can be bigger than just a couple of people.”
“She and Matt do seem pretty much on their own. Has he ever mentioned any other family to you?”
“I can’t say he has.” She sent Georgia a shadowed glance. “Speaking of family, I got together the information Matt asked for. I’ll show you when we get back to the house.”
Georgia blinked. “What did you do—stay up all night looking for things?”
“Most of it was right there in your grandfather’s family Bible. The rest—well, I guess I did sit up a mite late. When you’re my age, you don’t need as much sleep as you used to.”
“Even so—” She stopped, because Miz Callie was clearly not listening.
Instead, her grandmother was staring landward with a look of outrage on her face. Before Georgia could react, Miz Callie went striding toward the dunes, waving her hat.
“What do you think you’re doing? Get away from that!” Georgia ran to catch up as Miz Callie approached the people on the dunes. Tourists, she could see at a glance. A sunburned man with a kid in tow. The boy had crawled under the plastic tape that marked off the turtle’s nest and
was burrowing in the sand. “Stop it, you hear me?”
The boy kept right on with what he was doing, and the man shot her an annoyed glance. “The kid’s not doing any harm, lady. He just wants to see the turtle eggs.”
“Get him out of there.” Miz Callie glared at him. “This is a protected area. As the tape clearly shows.”
“Hey, we’re just trying to see a little nature. Something for him to talk about when he gets home.”
Miz Callie, apparently too impatient to argue, shoved past the man and tapped the boy. “Out!”
“Ow! Leave me alone!” The boy, as ill-mannered as his father, swung his shovel at Miz Callie’s arm.
Her grandmother winced as it landed with a thwack. Georgia stepped over the tape, grasped the boy’s arms and pulled him away from the hole he’d made, avoiding the kick he aimed at her shins.
“It is a federal crime to interfere with the sea turtles,” she said loudly, drowning out the kid’s yells and the father’s protests. “If you’re not out of here in two minutes, I’m calling the police.”
That silenced them. The man grabbed his son and pulled him away. With a fulminating glance, he stalked off, the boy wailing his desire to dig up the turtle’s nest.
Georgia took a deep breath and turned to her grandmother. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, darlin’. Just fine.” She smoothed her hand along her wrist. “The little monster just landed a hit on my bad wrist, that’s all. But you…” She looked at Georgia
with the beginnings of a smile in her eyes. “Child, you purely tore a strip off them. I didn’t know you had it in you to lose your temper like that.”
Georgia gave a shaky laugh. “I didn’t, either. I guess when I saw him hit you—”
“He was a bad kid.” The small voice came from behind them. They’d forgotten Lindsay in the excitement.
Her grandmother reached for the child and pulled her close in a comforting hug. “Let’s just say he’s been badly brought up. No one has taught him to observe the rules.” Lindsay put her arm around Miz Callie’s waist, as if to assure herself that she was all right. “He didn’t understand
about the turtles, did he?”
Georgia grinned. “I see you’ve indoctrinated her already.” “Of course.” She hugged Lindsay. “I’m fine, child. He’ll
think twice before he bothers a nest again.”
“Georgia sure told him.” Lindsay’s solemn gaze rested on her, a little more favorably.
“Well, I tried.” She got down on her knees and crawled under the tape. “Want to help me fix the nest?”
Nodding, Lindsay crawled in next to her and imitated Georgia’s movements, filling in the hole and smoothing sand over it.
When they’d finished, they crawled back out again and stood to survey their handiwork.
“Good job.” She rested her hands on her hips. “Looks just like it should, don’t you think?”
Lindsay put her own small hands on her hips. “Yes, I do,” she said definitely.
Georgia suppressed a smile. Maybe Lindsay’s quarrel with her had been overcome.
That seemed borne out as they started back down the beach. Lindsay skipped along between them.
“Did you used to look for turtle nests with your grandmother when you were little?” she asked, tilting her face up toward Georgia.
“I sure did. Miz Callie taught me and my brothers everything I know about the ocean and the shore.”
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Two. Both older than me. And a whole mess of cousins. When we were all here together, we made quite a tribe.” She smiled at the memory. They were all close enough in age that they’d played and fought as equals.
“I wish I had cousins. Or brothers.” Lindsay’s voice sounded very small.
Georgia exchanged a concerned glance with her grandmother over the child’s head. “Maybe you’ll get some cousins. If your aunt or uncle gets married, then their children would be your cousins.”
“I don’t have any aunts or uncles. Just Daddy. And my grandparents. They live in Arizona.”
It sounded lonely. She tried to imagine what her life would have been like without her big, sprawling, noisy, interfering family. She couldn’t.
“Tell you what,” she said, putting her hand lightly on Lindsay’s shoulder. “Next time we all get together, you can be a part of our tribe. Okay?”