Summer's Child

  “I’m fine,” she said, trying to shake off the feelings of warmth for him. “I’ll be back at the café later this afternoon.” With that, she clutched the jar closer to her chest and left the house, wondering if he’d noticed she was wearing the short seersucker robe she always wore over her bathing suit. She hardly looked as though she was on her way to a doctor’s appointment.

  She found Rory on the beach by the cul-de-sac.

  “Hi!” he said when she set her beach chair in the sand next to his.

  He looked pleased to see her, and that pleasure tugged at her guilt. She was not being very kind to the men in her life.

  “Hello.” She took off her robe, sat down and pulled a tube of sunscreen from her beach bag. “How are you?”

  “Better, now.” Rory said. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”

  “Well, I had some time before I have to go in to work, so I thought I’d come up here for a while.”

  “Here.” He leaned over to reach for the sunscreen. “Let me put that on your back for you.”

  She held the tube away from him. “I can do it,” she said. She squeezed some of the lotion onto her hand and tried to transfer it to her back.

  Rory laughed at her contortions. “Come on, don’t be shy.” He reached for the tube again, and this time she handed it to him. She leaned forward in her chair as he massaged the lotion into her back and shoulders.

  This is a mistake, she thought. How should she handle things with Rory? She didn’t want to lead him on, yet she knew of no other way to be able to spend time so close to Shelly. She knew she was giving him the wrong impression. He thought she was repeatedly driving round trip between Rodanthe and Kill Devil Hills just to see him.

  She was relieved when he stopped rubbing her shoulders and was no longer touching her. She was not unaware of his attractiveness, but no man—not Rory, not her husband—could pique her interest these days. “Thanks,” she said, leaning back in her chair.

  She chatted with him about the weather and a little about some attempted conversation he’d had the day before with Zack. Something about sex; she didn’t want to get into that. She hoped he would mention Shelly, trying to wait an appropriate amount of time before delving into her favorite topic herself. Her gaze was on those people walking along the beach, hoping to see the tall, young, blond woman who was capturing her heart.

  When a few minutes of silence had passed between them and it was apparent he was not going to mention Shelly, she could stand it no longer.

  “Oh, before I forget,” she said, forcing her voice to sound casual, “I have something for Shelly in my car.”

  “She’s at work today,” Rory said. “But I can give it to her, if you like.”

  “At work? You mean at the church?” Her heart sank at the realization that she had come all the way down here and Shelly was not even at the Sea Shanty.

  “Right. St. Esther’s.” Rory shaded his eyes to look at her. “What do you have for her?”

  “Oh, just an old jar of shells. It’s been collecting dust at my house for ages, and I thought she might be able to put it to good use.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Rory said. “Don’t forget to leave it with me before you go.”

  “I might as well drop it off at St. Esther’s myself,” Grace said. “I have to go right past there on my way home.”

  Now that she knew Shelly was not around, she was anxious to get back on the road. But it would look odd to leave this soon, and besides, Rory still wanted to talk.

  “I spoke with one of the neighbors today,” he said. “A woman who was here when Shelly was found. She was one of those kids who was very shy and quiet and faded into the woodwork, but I think it made her a keen observer of everything that was going on around her.”

  “And…so, what did she observe?” Grace held her breath, waiting for his answer.

  “Oh, she’s really playing a guessing game about who might have left Shelly on the beach. Same as everyone else. Only…” His voice trailed off.

  “Only what?”

  “She said she always thought it was my sister. My sister, Polly. She had Down’s syndrome and was fifteen at the time Shelly was found. I think Linda’s out of her mind, of course, but…the thought is still grating on me.”

  “Is there any chance she could be right?” Grace asked.

  “No, no way.” Rory shuddered. “At least I hope there was no way. Surely my mother would have known. But then…I’m starting to think crazy things. Like what if it had been Polly? And what if my mother knew and kept quiet about it to protect her? My mother was very protective of Polly, and I don’t think that would’ve been totally out of the question.”

  Grace felt sorry for him. He was torturing himself with this, and she wanted to rescue him. “Yes, but if it had been Polly, don’t you think you would have known something was going on with her? You lived in the same house.”

  “You’re right,” he said. “It’s just that Linda planted that seed in my mind and it’s been eating away at me ever since.”

  Grace looked down at her pale legs. “Well, as usual, I’m starting to burn,” she said, although her legs looked just as white as they had when she arrived. “I’d better head back to Rodanthe.”

  “We can go in the cottage for a while,” Rory suggested. “Or we can go somewhere for a drink or a cup of coffee.”

  She turned away from the hope in his eyes. “No, I can’t, really. I just came down here for a little break, but I’d better get back to work.”

  Rory stood up and folded her chair for her. “You must love driving,” he said, alluding to all the time she was spending in the car for a mere half hour on the beach. Especially when she had a beach a few blocks from her own home. He had to think she was either madly in love with him…or simply mad.

  “I don’t mind,” she said.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to give your shells to Shelly for you?” Rory asked.

  “No,” she said. “If I leave now, I’ll have time to stop at the church.”

  Grace had never been to St. Esther’s and was not certain if she should go into the church itself or the small building beside it. She opted for the building, and once inside, found herself in a wide, woodsy-smelling corridor. A man stepped into the hallway from one of the offices and walked toward her.

  “Hello,” he said. He was dressed in a short-sleeved, blue plaid shirt and khaki pants, and he was sandy-haired and handsome. He eyed the jar of shells in her arms, then looked at her quizzically.

  “I’m looking for Shelly Cato,” she said.

  He motioned toward one of the wooden benches against the wall. “Have a seat,” he said. “I’m Father Macy. I’ll find her for you. I think she’s working in Father Wayne’s office right now.”

  “Thank you.” Grace took a seat, the heavy jar on her lap, and watched the priest walk down the hall and disappear into one of the rooms.

  In a moment, Shelly stepped into the hallway from the same room. She smiled as she walked toward Grace, a small look of confusion on her face. “Hi, Grace,” she said.

  Grace stood up. Her heart did a dance in her chest, as it had every time she laid eyes on this young woman. “Rory said you were here, so I hope you don’t mind that I stopped by,” she said. She held out the jar in front of her. “I have this collection of shells that’s been lying around my house forever, and I thought, rather than throwing them out, I’d see if you might be able to use any of them.”

  “Thanks.” Shelly took the jar from her arms. She tilted her head to discern what might be behind the glass. “There’s probably some in here I can use,” she said.

  Grace did not want to leave, but there seemed to be little else to say. Her throat began to tighten and ache. “Okay, then,” she said. “I’ll probably see you in the cul-de-sac next time I come up to see Rory.”

  “Okay,” Shelly said. “Bye.”

  “Bye.” Grace turned to leave, but Shelly stopped her.

  “Grace?” she asked
. “Are you and Rory just friends?”

  “Oh. Yes, Shelly. We’re just friends.”

  Shelly’s smile broadened. “Good,” she said. “Thanks for the shells.”

  Back in her car, Grace had to force herself to drive out of the church parking lot and away from Shelly. She was going to have to be very careful. Her heart was going to give her away if she didn’t keep her emotions in check. She had not expected things to play out this way when she’d first gone to Kill Devil Hills. She’d only wanted to find out how much Rory had learned about the discovery of the newborn. She had not known then that the baby had lived.

  Poor Rory was so far off the mark with his investigation. She was torn between being glad of that fact and wishing he knew about the nurse. Why had no one seen the nurse? She would love to have a word or two with that woman, although she wasn’t at all certain she could control her actions if she were ever to find her. She almost felt sorry for Rory that he was barking so tenaciously up the wrong tree, but she would never help him. As a matter of fact, she would have to do all she could to lead him astray.

  22

  “MY CALVES ARE KILLING ME,” KARA SAID AS SHE HUFFED UP Jockey’s Ridge next to Daria.

  Kara was a beautiful whiner. She was one of the prettiest girls Daria had ever seen, but she hadn’t stopped complaining since she and Daria had turned onto the beach road from the cul-de-sac. She’d studied her nails in the car and seemed quite shy; if a complaint didn’t come out of her mouth, nothing else did, either, despite Daria’s attempts to get her talking.

  Rory and Zack had invited them to watch their hang-gliding lesson, and although Daria figured her invitation came as a result of Grace being unavailable, she accepted it readily. It was a Thursday, which meant she’d had to take off early from work, leaving Andy to finish a project in one of the older homes in Southern Shores, but he had encouraged her to go.

  It had been a while since she’d climbed the dunes at Jockey’s Ridge. The last time had been a couple of years ago, when she’d come with Shelly and Chloe to watch the competition in which Sean Macy had prevailed. Strange how when you lived somewhere, you tended to take for granted the area’s most interesting and easily available attractions.

  “There they are.” Kara pointed to a group of people surrounding a single hang glider at the crest of the dune.

  Daria could pick out Rory and Zack, who stood side by side, their backs to her and Kara. They both shared that unmistakable broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped build.

  “Let’s get a little closer and sit down,” she said.

  They hiked higher, Kara complaining with every step about the hot sand burning her feet. Daria had advised her to wear shoes, but the warning had fallen on deaf ears.

  They sat down near the group. Rory spotted them and waved, and Daria thought he was probably a bit nervous. She’d taken a lesson herself, years ago, but once had been enough. For all her athletic strength and usual fearlessness, she preferred to remain earthbound whenever she could.

  It was fun, watching the class. Each student took several turns running down the side of the dune, the hang glider heavy on their backs until the air lifted them into a steady glide above the sand. Some students managed longer flights than others, some went fairly high while others stayed close to the ground, and a few never made it off the dune at all, the nose of the glider catching in the sand before they’d even had a chance to take off.

  Rory’s first flight was low, but the second took him high above the two instructors, who ran down the dunes beneath him.

  “Go, Dad!” Zack yelled, his hands cupped to his mouth. “Whoo-hoo!”

  Daria had to smile. For once, Zack didn’t seem to think his father was such a loser. Indeed, Rory’s body was in perfect alignment with the glider, and his flight was as smooth as satin. He was a quick learner.

  Kara’s gaze was fastened on Zack, though, not Rory, and she wore a perpetual smile on her lips. She was clearly enamored of him, and Daria could not blame her. Zack looked just like his father did at fifteen, with his tan, athletic body. He had Rory’s green eyes and sun-streaked hair, covered right now by a helmet. She’d thought she was in love with Rory when he was Zack’s age; she knew she was in love with him now. She’d seen many people fly hang gliders before, but this was the first time she’d been mesmerized by the pilot rather than the flight.

  Okay, she thought, so at least you have him for a friend. She could talk easily to him, and he certainly was open with her, although she wished he would spare her his feelings about Grace. He was the first man she’d ever met who truly understood and respected the commitment she felt to Shelly. He was perhaps misguided and single-minded in his pursuit of Shelly’s background, but at least he was being honest with Daria about it.

  More honest than she was being with him.

  23

  THE DAY WAS PARTICULARLY HOT, THE SUN DAZZLING ON THE glassy waves of the ocean, and Shelly reveled in the feeling of the cool salt spray against her skin as she walked along the beach. She had a destination; she usually did, although Daria and Chloe and most everyone else thought her walks were aimless and without purpose. They didn’t really know her. They thought she was one person, but she was actually another.

  Although she was anxious to get where she was going, the young couple and their baby sitting on a blanket near the water were an irresistible lure. Shelly stopped next to their blanket and got down on her knees in the sand near the baby.

  “She’s adorable,” Shelly said, studying the baby’s blond ringlets. “She is a girl, isn’t she?”

  “Yes,” the young woman said. “Her name is Anna.”

  “How old is she?” Shelly asked. The baby was banging a plastic shovel against a pail, and Shelly picked up a small plastic rake to help her in the game.

  “Thirteen months,” said the mother. The father said nothing. His gaze shifted from Shelly, out to sea, and back to Shelly again. A lot of men were shy like that when it came to talking about their children.

  “Hi, Anna.” Shelly ran her hand gently over the baby’s fine blond curls. “My name’s Shelly.” She glanced up at the green and white umbrella above the blanket, then looked at the mother. “It’s good you have this big umbrella for her, because her skin is very fair,” she said.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Shelly looked at the baby’s perfect little hands and feet. “Did you worry when she was born that she wouldn’t have all her fingers and toes?” she asked. “I know moms worry about that.”

  “Yes,” the mother said. “But we were very lucky. She was perfect.”

  She touched one of the baby’s toes, and leaned close to the little girl. “This little piggy went to market,” she said. Then she looked at the mother again. “How long did it take you to have her? I know sometimes it can take a really long time.”

  “Oh, not that long.” The woman glanced at her husband, who continued to sit in silence.

  “Were you scared?”

  “Scared?” the mother asked.

  “About the pain, I mean,” Shelly explained. “I think I’d be scared.”

  “A little,” the woman said.

  “Do you nurse her?” Shelly asked.

  “I…at first.” The woman glanced at her husband again, as if he might know the answer to these questions.

  “How old was she when you stopped nursing her?” Shelly asked.

  “I think we’d better get back to the house.” The young man suddenly spoke to his wife.

  “Good idea.” There was a look of relief on the wife’s face, and Shelly realized their abrupt departure was to get away from her. She had asked too many questions. Too many personal questions. It was a bad habit of hers.

  “No, no.” She jumped to her feet. “It’s still a beautiful day. Still early. I think you all should stay here, but I should go.” The man and woman stared up at her, not saying a word, no doubt surprised by her sudden exit. “Bye, now.” Shelly waved. “Bye-bye, Anna.” She walked away from them quickly, a bit emb
arrassed over her behavior. She’d made them nervous. They probably thought she was a crazy child abuser. They had it so wrong. She could never harm a child, especially not a baby as beautiful as Anna.

  She felt again that aching inside her, that longing that had been with her for quite a while now. How she wanted a baby of her own! And with any luck, she would have one soon: her period was late.

  24

  RORY SAT ON HIS FRONT PORCH, WAITING FOR GRACE. THEY were going to an early movie, then out to dinner. He’d suggested he come down to Rodanthe for this outing, but as he might have predicted, she said she would prefer to drive up to Kill Devil Hills. He finally asked her why she never wanted him to come to Rodanthe, and she sounded surprised by the question. “I don’t have anything against you coming down here,” she said. “It’s just that I love to get out. And I know you’d rather not be that far from Zack.”

  He’d spent the last couple of hours on the Internet, trying to find information on those two young women who’d disappeared from North Carolina and Virginia twenty-two years ago. He tracked down some old newspaper articles, but they didn’t tell him anything he didn’t already know.

  “Hi, Rory!”

  He looked next door to see Jill walking toward her car. He waved, and Jill changed direction, heading toward him. She climbed the steps to his porch and sat down.

  “I heard you and Zack had a great time on the dunes,” she said, slipping her sunglasses onto her head, where her thick, silver hair held them snugly in place.

  “Yeah, we did.” The afternoon had been, for want of a better term, a bonding experience. No doubt about it. Of course, there had been no time for heavy conversation, which had made life easier for Zack. Instead, there had been shared concentration on the task at hand and the pleasure of reliving every moment of the class afterward. “We might even do it again,” he said to Jill.