“I feel so lost. And scared.”
“About that life you got growing inside of you?”
Carson took a deep breath and nodded. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to do anything.”
Carson couldn’t look at her. “I think I do.”
“I see.” Lucille went quiet.
“You don’t think I’m a terrible person?”
Lucille snorted and shook her head. “You’re in trouble. And you’re scared. I can see that.”
“I’m thinking of going away.”
“ ’Course you are.”
Carson frowned and looked up. “Why do you say that?”
“ ’Cause whenever trouble comes, you run away.”
“No, I don’t!”
Lucille patted her hand, her thick knuckles and stubby nails beautiful to Carson. “Yes, child, you do. Always have. I’ve known you since you were born. When someone gets too close, you cut loose. Carson, you can’t ever outrun the kind of fear you got bottled up inside. You think if you don’t let anything or anyone get too close you won’t get hurt again, like you were when your mama died, or when your daddy took you away from us to go to California. I never thought your mamaw should’ve let that happen. You cried then like you’re crying now.” She sighed heavily. “And now, you’re upset I’m gonna leave you, too. Now, don’t deny it,” she said, waving her hand against Carson’s open mouth. “The plain truth is, I am going to die and there’s nothing you can do and it scares you. I see it in your eyes. And you’re afraid your mamaw’s gonna die, too. Well, child, one day she is!”
“No,” Carson cried, her shoulders shaking as the tears gushed. She lowered her head to Lucille’s shoulder as she did when she was a little girl. “Don’t leave me. I don’t want you to go.”
Lucille patted her hand as Carson released the pent-up tears that she’d held at bay for too long. Tears of sorrow for Lucille’s illness, for the pregnancy, for her breakup with Blake, for her guilt over Delphine, for all the sorrows she knew were as yet coming.
When she finished Carson pulled herself back up and reached for a tissue.
“Feel better?”
Carson shrugged. “I feel drained.”
“A good cry is like letting loose the steam from a pipe. Gotta do it before it bursts.”
Carson blew her nose. “I’m crying a lot lately.”
“Hormones.”
“Oh, God . . .” Carson said with a long sigh.
“You and I, we’re both participating in the cycle of life. The beginning and the end. I find that kind of reassuring, don’t you?”
Carson looked out the window.
“We all enter and leave this world alone.” Lucille tapped Carson’s hand, drawing back her attention. “But it’s sharing our lives with others what makes life worth living. And makes the leaving easier. When your time comes, you know you’re leaving a part of yourself behind, with them.”
Lucille moved to sit higher up against the pillows. Her face scrunched up in pain with the effort while Carson fluffed up the pillows. Once she settled back, Lucille looked again at Carson, her dark eyes piercing.
“What’s really ailing you, child?”
Carson lowered her head. Her confusion and despair were like a black hole, sucking the light from her life. She squeezed her wildly swinging emotions into three tiny words: “I am afraid.” She hastily wiped her eyes. “You’re right. I don’t like being afraid. I feel frozen, like I did back when I was floating in the ocean staring into the deadly eyes of the shark. I couldn’t move. That’s how I feel now. My mind can’t make a decision.”
Lucille made a face and scoffed at the notion. “But you got away! You made it to shore. See? That’s what I’m talkin’ about. Girl, you got good instincts. I used to watch when you went out in that ocean riding them waves and wonder what that must feel like.”
“I didn’t know you watched me surf.”
“Well, I did. Your mamaw and I both did. You know how to move your feet and your legs, when to move a bit to the left or right, how to ride that wave back to shore.” She released a gentle laugh. “You might look like a natural out there, but I know how you got up early and went out there day after day, no matter what the weather. After all them years, your body just knows what to do. And now you’re doubting yourself? Girl, get out of your head! We might all be cheering you on from the beach, but it’s like I was saying. You’re alone out there on the water. You got to trust your instincts to take you where you’re supposed to go.”
“This isn’t the ocean. This is life. It’s different.”
“No it ain’t.” Lucille gave her a no-nonsense look, her beautiful, intelligent eyes radiating faith and encouragement. “Carson, honey, life is like that ocean out there. It’s deep and bountiful, and the waves just keep on comin’. Sometimes the waves get choppy, sometimes they smooth. You just got to ride them, Carson, same as you always done.”
Lucille’s smile fell as her voice weakened. “Whatever you decide, don’t be afraid. I don’t never want to hear you say those words again. You hear?”
Carson nodded.
“You’ve got good instincts. Listen to them. You’ll know what to do.” Her eyelids lowered and she patted Carson’s hand a final time. “Now I’m tired. Didn’t sleep a wink in your mamaw’s bed. Go on and let me rest, eh? Just a little while.”
Carson bent to kiss Lucille’s cheek. She smelled of vanilla.
“Sweet dreams, Lucille,” she whispered.
Carson stepped outside the cottage and closed the door quietly behind her. She stood on the edge of the porch and raised her face to the warmth of the morning sun. The fog had lifted, though a soft rain still fell. The shrubs, flowers, and grasses were no longer bent over by the pounding rain and struggled to stand taller, shaking off the drops. Bits of leaves and debris lay scattered across the gravel, remnants of the storm. Looking up, she saw the ball of sun pushing rays of golden color through the dispersing clouds. Behind them, soft hues of rose and blue already were stretching across the morning sky.
Overhead, the calls of the birds grew increasingly strident, and beyond, she heard the roar of the ocean. As always, she followed its call. Carson walked across the gravel toward the beach, eyes on the sky.