The Summer Girls - Page 65/86

“Does not,” he said, reaching for the cheese.

“Does too,” she said, laughing now as he gripped her, manhandling her in the tussle for the cheese.

Blake won and stepped back, triumphantly holding the cheese in the air, out of reach while Hobbs barked.

“Really, Blake,” she moaned, “grits are best plain with lots of butter.”

“Trust me,” he told her, lowering his arm. “With eggs, you want the cheese.”

“So much for showing a girl a good time,” she quipped.

“You’ll see,” he said, smirking.

While Blake stirred the eggs, they sipped hot coffee and shared some of the twists and turns of their lives, the crazy chapters, the poignant moments. All part of the usual dating interrogation. His fascination with marine life had been lifelong and marked most of his memorable moments.

“Aren’t you still tempted to explore other areas?”

He stirred the grits, considering. “I still travel a lot, to conferences or to study. I spent several months volunteering in the Gulf after the oil-spill debacle. We’re seeing a significant increase in untimely deaths in dolphins in that area and I fear we’ll see repercussions from that disaster for many years to come.”

“No, I mean to just pick up and go. To travel for the sake of traveling.”

He shook his head. “I’m thirty-seven. I got that out of my system. My head’s in a different place now.” He looked up at her, suddenly serious. “What about you?”

Carson sipped her coffee, unsure of her answer. “If you’d asked me that question a month ago, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I liked to say I went wherever the wind blew. The minute I heard about a photo job, anywhere in the world, I’d be on the first plane out. I spent the last four years based in L.A. with a TV series. It was a change for me. I thought I’d love staying in one place, going out with the same people, maybe save a few dollars.”

“I take it you didn’t?”

She shook her head. “Actually, I did. For a while. But by the time the series was canceled I was already feeling the wanderlust. I hated my apartment and had broken up with my boyfriend.”

“Maybe L.A. was the wrong place,” Blake suggested. “I loved the Bahamas, but it wasn’t home.”

Carson caught the faint whisper of hope in his tone. “Maybe,” she said, but she was unconvinced.

“Stir this for me?” Blake said, handing her the spoon. When she took the wooden spoon he grabbed hold of her waist and lowered his head. “I needed to kiss you just now.”

She laughed lightly, feeling a bubbling of interest. When his lips touched her, it was spontaneous combustion all over again. Blake reached over to turn the heat off the grits. Then he reached down to lift her off her feet in his arms.

“Wait,” Carson called out, waving the spoon, dripping grits on the floor that Hobbs quickly dispensed.

Blake walked her to the sink, where she dropped the spoon. Laughing, she ducked her head on his shoulder as he carried her to his bedroom. Suddenly all the terribly corny comments about being hungry for something other than grits easily flowed from her tongue.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The following day Carson sat on the dock, her feet dangling in the water, waiting for Nate. The seawater was warming as summer progressed. She knew that by September the ocean would feel like bathwater to her. She’d developed a routine with Delphine. If she whistled and banged on the dock, Delphine would often appear. Carson longed to see her, and knew that Nate would be eager, as well. Yet today she found she could not call her.

Blake’s words came to mind. Feeding dolphins is not kind. It’s self-indulgent. Selfish. People are thinking of themselves, not the dolphin. Carson kicked the water mulishly. Sure, she’d heard the warnings about not feeding the dolphins. She’d seen the signs. She’d just thought that her bond with Delphine was special. She’d rationalized that it was okay for her, even if it wasn’t okay for everyone else. The trouble was, she still wanted her relationship with Delphine. She didn’t know if she could give it up. She was torn about what to do. As she sat, swinging her legs in the water, one word played over and over again in her mind. Selfish.

The reverberations of footfalls on the dock drew her attention. She looked up to see Nate negotiating the step down to the lower dock. He was filling out; his life preserver didn’t hang so pitifully from his shoulders. He was also tan and his light brown hair was turning blond from the sun. She smiled, thinking how much her nephew looked like a typical beach boy.

“Hi, Nate,” she called out. “Ready to swim?”

Nate looked out over the water. “Where is Delphine?”

Carson paused, knowing full well that his fixation on the dolphin was not going to be easy to dampen. Still, she’d made up her mind to do the right thing.

“She’s out there somewhere. Either playing with her friends or hunting fish. Let’s just go in the water and have a good time.”

“Call her, Aunt Carson.”

“I already tried,” she lied, not wanting a meltdown. “Come on, let’s jump in the water. She’ll come if she wants to.”

Nate searched the water again while Carson held her breath. Then he seemed to accept what she’d said at face value and began to climb down the ladder into the water.

Carson followed him, realizing she might have come upon the solution to her moral dilemma. She wouldn’t feed the dolphin any longer, nor would she call her to the dock. Delphine would come if she wanted to.

That evening Mamaw was in the kitchen getting a glass of milk when she heard a strange creaking and rustling outside on the porch. She set down the glass and walked to the door. Darn raccoons were back again, she muttered to herself. She flicked on the light and opened the door. She was startled to see Nate. He froze with eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. In his arms he precariously balanced three fishing rods and a bait box.

“What on earth?” Mamaw asked.

Nate didn’t say a word. He only lowered his arms and squinted in the bright light.

“Nate, what are you doing out here?” she asked him, her tone scolding. “Do you know what time it is?”

“It’s eleven thirty,” Nate replied.

Mamaw couldn’t quite get accustomed to how literal the boy was. “Yes, and that’s way past your bedtime.”