Chapter Twenty-Two
Florida is the most important nesting area in the United States for loggerhead, green, and leatherback turtles. A staggering 80 percent of loggerhead nesting occurs in six Florida counties. A twenty-mile section of coastline from Melbourne Beach to Wabasso Beach comprises the Archie Carr National Wildlife Refuge, the most important nesting area for loggerhead turtles in the western hemisphere. A thousand nests per mile are recorded.
TWO DAYS LATER the storm had passed and the sun rose on a calm but changed shoreline. Cara hovered over news reports, shocked at the photographs of waves crashing the sea wall of Rainbow Row in Charleston, the severe flooding and the battered dunes on Isle of Palms.
As soon as the all-clear for Isle of Palms was declared, she packed the car back up, eager to return to the beach house. David asked her to stay in the mountains longer, but with Cooper in the hospital and Linnea not answering her texts, Cara was anxious to get home.
Her fingers were dancing on the wheel by the time she drove up to Primrose Cottage. Her eyes hungrily devoured it, scanning quickly. There were the usual fallen palm fronds and torn screens on porches, but she blew out a plume of relief at seeing no damage. She realized how very much this house meant to her—no, even more, what the beach house symbolized for her: a strong foundation, grace under pressure, continuance, resilience.
“We’re home!” she called out to Hope.
Moutarde chirped from his travel cage at hearing the joy in her voice.
The front steps were still damp and covered in leaves and mud. The torn front porch screens flapped in the wind and her plants had been knocked over, spilling dirt and geraniums. These she scooped back up as best she could; then she laid a blanket on the front porch for Hope to play on while she unscrewed the aluminum panels covering the front door. It didn’t take too long. Lifting Hope into her arms, she pushed open the front door.
Inside, the house was dark and humid and had that shut-in staleness of an attic. She flicked a light switch. Nothing. So, she thought with dismay, the electricity is out. She couldn’t open a window because of the hurricane shutters. Still, enough light peered through the cracks that she could tour the house with Hope in her arms, searching for any leaks or damage. Her last stop was the rear porch. This had been Brett’s last project. He’d been very proud of the design of the sunroom with a wide deck in back. Cara sighed with relief to see that all was intact. No puddles on the floor.
She settled Moutarde back in his large birdcage, then went outdoors and around to the back to remove the shutters from the sunroom. Her eyes scanned the roof, the trees, and the broad deck that Bo had constructed. Thank God all was unscathed. There was work to be done to get the house opened, but they were blessed.
From around the house she heard the rumble of tires in the driveway next door, followed by car doors slamming, then footfalls in the gravel.
“Hello! Anybody home?”
Cara walked toward the voices. “I’m in the back!”
Emmi rounded the corner of the house first, her mouth stretched across her face in a grin. She looked disheveled and wan, but ran to Cara to embrace her in a sisterly hug. Flo ambled up more slowly, but her arms were strong with emotion. The three women formed a circle, arms around each other, love flowing from one to another.
“We made it through another one!” Flo exclaimed.
Lastly John stepped onto the deck like a knight in shining armor, brandishing not a sword but a battery-operated drill. He grinned, his cheeks shadowed in stubble. “I’ll get those panels down for you in no time.”
While the other women opened their house and John was busy removing shutters, Cara sat on the deck while Hope played and tried to reach Linnea, then Julia, and finally Palmer. But none of the calls went through. She ran her hand through her hair, sick with worry. She’d seen on the news the terrible flooding the city had, especially around the hospital. She could only hope they’d all had the good sense to stay home and wait out the storm. There was some comfort in knowing that Cooper, at least, was safe in the hospital.
Before too long the hurricane shutters were removed, the electricity had been restored, and a fresh pot of steaming coffee was made to bolster the troops. The first thing Cara did was to go from room to room and push open all the windows of the house. The musty odor dissipated as salt-tinged ocean breezes blew through, balmy and fresh. She enjoyed the domesticity of sweeping the deck and walkways, dragging yard debris to the street. There was a serenity to everyday chores, a kind of Zen. Cara laughed as she worked, watching Hope try to keep up with her on her chubby legs. Cara began feeling that peace had been restored at Primrose Cottage.
She was preparing a picnic dinner of food scavenged from the fridge and cabinets when she heard more car wheels in the driveway, followed by the honking of a horn. Who could that be? she wondered as she put down the bread slices and walked to the kitchen window to peer out. Her heart skipped in joy.
“Linnea!” she called out. Cara rushed to pick up Hope from among her toys. “Linnea’s here,” she told her, and scurried out the back door to meet her on the deck.
Linnea ran to kiss Cara, then swept Hope up in her arms and twirled her around, squealing with happiness.
“I was so worried!” Cara said, her gaze hungrily devouring every inch of Linnea’s face. “I couldn’t reach you. I didn’t sleep a wink for worry.”
“I’m sorry. We couldn’t get service or the Internet. I tried texting you on the way over.”
“How did you get here? I saw the flooding on TV. It’s horrible.”
“I know,” she said wearily. “Some of the roads are like rivers. Mama called the city Venice. But there were side roads that we could use to get through the city. It took forever.” She kissed Hope and handed her back to Cara. “Thank goodness we were driving Mama’s tank. My little Mini Cooper would never have made it.”
“Linnea, how’s Cooper?”
Her smile slipped. “He’s doing better. He’s in the psych ward.”
Cara frowned with concern. “Oh.”
“It’s really okay. We couldn’t get back to the hospital because of the flooding.” She rolled her eyes. “Mama was fit to be tied. But we called this morning and he’s doing better. There’s a big bright room where they can keep an eye on him. It’s not like he’s locked up in a cell or anything. Cara, I’m glad he’s there. He’ll get the help he needs right now. And he can’t go anywhere even if they released him. The hospital area is a lake. We got out just in time, or we’d still be stuck there. The doctors and nurses are coming in by boat!”
“It was unbelievable. I—”
She stopped when she heard her mother’s voice.
“Hello?” Julia rounded the house. Despite the long, ragged night, she appeared strong and steady, dragging two suitcases. She stopped when she saw Cara and Linnea grinning and laughing.
Cara hurried to her side with Linnea. “Welcome,” she said warmly, leaning forward with Hope in her arms to offer a kiss of greeting.
Tears filled Julia’s eyes. It seemed as though she’d been holding herself together by a thread and now for the first time she felt she could let go and that one, slender thread tore and released the flood of anguish.
Cara understood and handed the baby to Linnea. She wrapped her arms around her sister-in-law. “You’re safe now,” she told her softly. “You’re with us.”
Cara took Hope back in her arms and was guiding the women indoors when they heard the husky sound of John’s voice.
“Linnea!”
Turning, they saw John racing around the corner of the house. His hair was tousled, red stubble framed his face, and his green eyes were pinned on Linnea. He took the stairs in two leaps and ran to scoop Linnea into his arms and plant a breath-sucking kiss.
Emmi hurried around the corner after John and, seeing the two locked in an embrace, stopped short. Then, her face glowing, she fist-pumped the air. Flo followed at a slower pace, blinking up at them in confusion.
Cara took in the scene, holding Hope close, and leaned against a porch pillar, swamped by a wave of memories of another such day. Another aftermath of a storm. Only that time, it was Brett who had come running. For her. Closing her eyes, she felt again his arms around her, tight and sure and strong. The feel of his lips claiming hers. It was so real she could smell him. Brett’s presence was strong, and her heart ached for him. Hot tears seeped from the corners of her eyes, and she squeezed Hope tight and took a ragged breath to stop them.
Then she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders and two short, reassuring pats. Cara opened her eyes to see Emmi standing beside her.
“I know,” she said in a low voice.
She sniffed, bolstered by her friend’s understanding. Emmi remembered, too.
John’s arms tightened around Linnea. “You didn’t answer your phone!”
Linnea hiccuped a laugh that sounded more like a cry. “No service,” she choked out.
He rocked her in his arms, his relief palpable. “Don’t ever leave me again.”
“No,” Linnea said, smiling into his face.
Cara looked to Emmi, a sympathetic smile easing across her face. The old matchmaker was grinning with pleasure. When their eyes met again, Emmi gave her a thumbs-up.
“Mercy!” Julia exclaimed. “I guess that’s why Linnea calls this the Social Club.”
“That would be my house,” Emmi said, stepping forward to help with the suitcases. “Next door. I’ve got a mountain of food. Come on, everyone. Let’s eat.”
EVERYONE FOLLOWED EMMI over to her house. Linnea took Hope along when Cara asked for a few minutes alone.
She still felt Brett’s presence keenly. He was here with her, she knew it. She went to the pergola and laid her hand against the wood, patting it with appreciation. She thought back on hurricanes past that had ravaged Lovie’s pergola. Each time, Brett had faithfully rebuilt it for her. It had become both a tradition and a family joke.
This one Brett had built for Cara. He’d chosen the best wood, thick and strong. “Built to last,” he’d declared. Cara looked up and saw that the canes of the roses were twisted and broken. More red petals had drifted down to dot the deck. But this time, Brett’s pergola had persevered.
“Oh, Brett,” she said, and hugged the pillar of the pergola. This was her sign. “Strong and sure. I know what you’re trying to tell me. And I hear you. No more tears. I’ll weather the storms. I’ll persevere. Live again. Love again. I will treasure each day.”
She reached up to wipe away the last of her tears. “And each day,” she said, looking out at the endless sea, “I’ll remember you.”
THE SUN WAS setting on an emotional day. Hope was asleep in her crib. The canary was back in his cage. All the debris had been swept and the windows were free of shutters. Cara felt a sense of peace she hadn’t known since Hurricane Irma threatened the Atlantic.
The three Rutledge women sat together under the pergola, all in their pajamas, sipping wine, finding comfort in one another’s presence. It was a typical post-storm night. The humidity had blown off and the sky burst with unusual brilliance. Lovie had always claimed it was God’s way of reassuring them that all was well.
They did what women have done since the days of hunters and gatherers. They shared their stories, their fears and triumphs, finding both solace and support in the process. Julia spoke of the exchange with Palmer in front of the portrait of Stratton. Linnea told Cara of her decision to go to California and how that had sparked her father’s fury. Finally, Cara confessed the depth of her feelings for David. There was laughter amid the tears, too. Especially when Cara described David’s log house in North Carolina.
“Shades of Pemberley?” Linnea teased.
So much has happened, Cara thought. It would take days, weeks, to sort things out. Foremost on her mind, however, was her brother. No one had heard from Palmer since he’d rushed out of the house into the storm. The reports of the flooding in Charleston were alarming, but Julia had remained stoic, praying, convinced Palmer was all right. Cara never allowed such things to chance, however. She’d called all the hospitals and the police, but no one had seen him.
Cara asked, “Julia, have you reached Palmer yet?”
She nodded pensively. “Finally.”
“For heaven’s sake! Why didn’t you tell us?” Cara asked, anger rising in her chest. “We’ve all been so worried. Where is he?”
“Forgive me for not telling you. I only just talked to him, and I’ve been sitting here in a stew, trying to figure out what I’m going to do next. I was going to tell you.”
“When?” Cara blurted.
“Mama, tell us now,” Linnea demanded, sitting up in her chair. “Where is he?”
“He’s at the hospital,” she said in a tone of disbelief.
Cara felt alarm. “Is he hurt?”
“No, no,” Julia said in a rush. “In the psych hospital. With Cooper.”
Cara was astonished.
“With Cooper?” Linnea asked, worry ringing in her voice. “Is everything okay? Is that good for Cooper?”
“Yes,” Julia said with reassurance. She swallowed and took a breath. “He went to apologize. He’s been talking with Cooper. Making peace somehow.”
There followed a stunned silence.
Cara was much relieved. Then she knew a moment of pride in her brother. It washed over her, sweeping away all the resentment lingering from the last exchange.
“You see why I needed to digest that before I told you. I needed to know my own mind, my own heart.” Julia spoke levelly, without apology.
“Mama, I’m so happy,” Linnea said, and came over to the settee to rest her head on Julia’s shoulder.
Cara was still peeved that Julia hadn’t told them instantly, but that was overcome by her pleasure at the outcome and seeing the new bond established between mother and daughter. She was glad she hadn’t charged off and started a row. Emotions still ran high and they needed to be supportive now, not combative. She thought of her brother, and wondered how he’d managed to fight his way through the raging floodwaters to reach the hospital. His determination was staggering. It gave her hope to contemplate the implications.
“This is important,” Cara said, sitting up.
Julia and Linnea, interrupted, looked up.
“He did it!” Cara said. When the two women stared back at her uncomprehendingly, she added, “He broke the cycle. Thank God.”
“I couldn’t have stayed under the same circumstances,” said Julia with conviction.
Cara saw the new strength in Julia’s eyes. “I wouldn’t have either.” Then she smiled. “But look at you! You stood your ground. You can’t know how proud I am of you.”
“Me?” Julia asked. “I only did what any mother would do.”
“No,” Cara said, and it near broke her heart to say it. “Not every mother. My mother didn’t.”
Julia looked stunned. “Lovie?”
Linnea lifted her head, listening, her gaze on Cara.
“You broke a cycle too,” Cara said to Julia.
“I don’t understand.”
Cara took a sip of her wine and set the wineglass on the table. She shifted to a comfortable spot and crossed her legs. This story would take strength to tell.
“I was a little younger than you, Linnea,” she began. “Just eighteen. I was telling my father I wanted to go to Boston University. He said I couldn’t go.” She glanced up at Linnea. “It went very much like what you experienced. Only my father was crueler. Harsher.” She glanced away in shame. “When I close my eyes, I can still see his belt flying in the air, feel the snap of leather like a bullwhip.”
“He beat you?” Linnea blurted in a shocked whisper.
Julia’s eyes also widened. This part of the story Cara had never shared.
“Just that once. But I’ll never forget the humiliation. It’s hard to speak of it even now. But it’s important you know.” She shuddered. “The ghost of that horrible man still lives there, I swear it. That’s why I don’t like to step foot in that house.”
“I know,” Linnea said in a soft voice. “I felt him too.”
“Palmer certainly did,” said Julia. “He hated the son of a bitch.” She ducked her head. “Excuse my French.”
“But that means Daddy is like him,” Linnea said in a quiet voice.
Cara straightened, unable to let Linnea think that about her brother. “No, he’s not,” she said with conviction. “He proved to you that he’s not at all like him. He was stuck in a family pattern. A bad habitual resolution of his anger and his deep sense of failure.”
“But—”
“Listen to me,” Cara interrupted. “Don’t you understand what happened? Last night your father broke that cycle!” She paused, trying to find the right words so that Linnea would comprehend the vital truth. “When my father hit me, my mother cowered in the background. I looked to her for help.” Cara swallowed. “But she didn’t come to my rescue.” She released a long sigh. A lot of water had flowed under that bridge.
“I understand her reasons now, but then I felt abandoned. Alone. But, Julia,” she said, focusing on her sister-in-law. “You intervened! You stood up for your daughter. You said no.” Cara felt her emotion welling up. “I am so proud of you. And of Palmer, too.”
“Palmer?” asked Julia with indignation.
“Yes. You not only shamed him. You forced him to see who he was becoming.”
Julia’s eyes glimmered in understanding. “His father.”
“Right,” Cara said. “The one man he never wanted to be like. Don’t you see, Linnea, if we didn’t stop this cycle, Cooper would treat women like his father did. He’d become the worst of Palmer.”
“Not Coop . . .” Linnea said, shaking her head.
“Yes. That’s the power of the cycle. Honey, you didn’t know Palmer at Cooper’s age. He was every bit as sweet. And conniving . . . Let’s not make Cooper out to be an angel here. He’s made some pretty big mistakes, for himself and for his family. He has to take responsibility for his own actions. And you”—she looked at Linnea and then Julia with a meaningful gaze—“you have to let him fight those battles. And not try to fix things for him.”
The women went quiet, listening to her.
“But the work isn’t done yet. We have to help Palmer find the strength to really change.” Cara looked at Linnea with an unwavering eye. “This is the time for understanding. And compassion. And love for your father.” She turned to Julia. “And your husband. I assure you, he doesn’t feel any of those emotions for himself. I wager he feels pretty badly right now. He’s hit rock bottom. And that’s good. That will help motivate him to break the cycle for himself.”
A gentle breeze wafted through the air, carrying the scent of jasmine. Cara inhaled the sweetness, eyes closed; opening them again, she saw Julia and Linnea, her family. She leaned forward and stretched out her arms to the women. It was impossible to keep the optimism from her voice.
“Are we in this together?”
Linnea and Julia reached out to take her offered hands to form a united circle.