“Sophie was a lost soul. She took a risk with her own life and the life of her child. And paid the highest price for it. There’s nothing more to say about that.” Mamaw looked around the room, at the portrait hanging over Carson’s bed. She prayed she could find the words to bring the confidence of that ancestor back into her granddaughter’s spirit.
“As for Parker,” Mamaw continued, “he, too, paid a high price for his failures. He never forgave himself for not helping Sophie with her drinking, or for leaving you behind in that burning house. It haunted him till his dying day. I fear your father never really made it out of that fire. Why do you think he wouldn’t leave you with me? I begged him to leave you with me, to let me take care of you, but he said he was your father and he wouldn’t leave you behind ever again.”
“He should’ve,” Carson ground out against Mamaw’s lap. “I wish he had.”
“I do, too. But he was your father and for all his faults, he loved you. Try thinking on that, honey, and let go of the anger.”
Carson felt weakened by the emotional onslaught. She closed her eyes. “I don’t want to think about it. Or him. I just want to forget all of it. Forget everything.”
“That’s denial, dear,” Mamaw said. “You are not that little girl any longer. You’re a woman. At least now you know the truth, and in time it will help you gain perspective.”
Carson turned her head away on the pillow.
“Listen to me now. I know you harbor a guilt, undeserved, for not being with your father when he died. You poor, motherless child. Who was taking care of you? You were not Parker’s parent. That was not your job. That was mine. Release that guilt from your heart. Release your anger at your father. Let it all go.”
Carson squeezed her eyes shut and felt the heat of tears pooling against her pillow. “I can’t,” she said as a whimper.
“You must. If you keep your guilt and anger festering inside of you, they will poison your life. You must find it in your heart to forgive your father . . . Nate . . . your poor dead mother.” She paused. “Me. And yourself. For your own sake.”
Mamaw patted Carson’s hand and rose to her feet, spent. She felt ancient, like some old relic whose bones were about to splinter into dust. Before leaving the room, she turned at the door and looked once more to her granddaughter. “Remember, my darling. Your father didn’t save you. But you saved him.”
A spell of bad weather had moved in. Three days of nonstop rain. Dora stepped from Nate’s room and quietly closed the door behind her. She slumped against the door. He was always sensitive to noises, and the thunder that rumbled all night long had kept him awake. That merely added to the meltdown Nate was suffering.
Dora straightened, wiping her face with her palms. She looked across the hall to see Carson’s bedroom door was closed. From the room she shared with Harper, she heard the click-clacking of fingers against a keyboard. Dora sighed with annoyance. Harper had been holed up in there for days, either on her phone or her iPad or her computer. Hiding out.
Dora went in search of Mamaw and found her sitting in the living room. She appeared to be absorbed in her book and didn’t respond to Dora calling her name. When Dora drew near, however, she saw that Mamaw was nodding off. Dora turned to leave but her foot accidentally bumped the coffee table. Mamaw awoke with a start.
“I’m sorry,” Dora said, cringing. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Mamaw was blinking heavily. “No, no, I just dozed off.” She smiled wobbily. “It’s the rain. The steady pitter-patter always makes me sleepy.” She breathed deeply. “I love a good summer rain, love the green smell of the earth and the rumbling of thunder in the distance.” She reached out to pat the sofa cushion beside her. “Come, sit down. It’s nice to have some company. The house feels as quiet as a tomb.”
Dora came to sit beside her grandmother. She turned her head to see Mamaw studying her clothing. Despite the rainy weather, she was wearing white pants and an aqua tunic top covered in white starfish. Being with her more stylish sisters, Dora was trying to take better care of herself. She no longer merely slid into elastic-waistband pants and a baggy top.
“You look very pretty today,” Mamaw complimented her. “Cheerful. We could use some cheer around here.”
“Thank you,” Dora replied, pleased that her effort was noticed. “How’s Carson?”
Mamaw’s smile slipped. “Not very well. And Nate?”
“The same. That’s what I’ve come to talk with you about. Mamaw, I’m worried that he’s regressing. He won’t come out of his room and he just sits on his bed, reading books about dolphins. He doesn’t talk, except to ask about Delphine. Have we heard anything?”
“No,” Mamaw said. “We haven’t heard a word. Blake promised to call. I expect they don’t know yet.”
Dora considered this. “That can’t be good. Mamaw, what if they can’t save her?”
“I don’t think we’ve reached that point yet.”
“I have to prepare for the possibility. I’ve been thinking . . . Perhaps it’s best to get Nate home, away from here, where all he thinks about is that dolphin. If the dolphin should die, I don’t want him here.”
“Will it make any difference?”
“There’s everything here to remind him of her.”
“I really think he should stay here, at least until he learns what happened to Delphine. You know he’ll wonder and worry if you don’t. He’s not one to simply forget about it.”
“No, I suppose you’re right.” Dora wrung her hands in indecision. She felt lost, unable to navigate through these choppy waters.
Mamaw paused, dreading going into the discussion, but she had to know. “Do you think Nate realizes what he did? That’s a large burden for such small shoulders.”
Dora felt herself go under the wave of worry. She sighed heavily and sank back against the sofa cushions, shaking her face in her hands. “I don’t know! I just don’t know if he understands guilt. He can’t communicate that with me.” She took a calming breath, realizing that Mamaw couldn’t understand fully what she was going through with Nate.
“He understands that Delphine is hurt,” Dora tried to explain, “and that she went to the hospital in Florida. He feels very badly about that.” Her eyes began to tear. “He has such a hard time regulating his emotions normally, and now . . .” She threw up her hands. “It’s all such a hot mess.”