“They’re as different from each other today as they’ve ever been,” she said to Lucille. “And yet, in the past few weeks I believe they’d discovered that they’re not without some rather profound commonalities. Don’t you think?”
“If by commonalities you mean they’re not at each other’s throats and beginning to like each other again, I’ll give you that,” Lucille replied.
“That, too, of course,” Mamaw said with a hint of impatience. But it was so much more than this, and yet too difficult to put into words. Though the girls were still negotiating the delicate bonds of sisterhood, in the past weeks she’d heard in their voices, and seen in small gestures, the beginnings of reconnection. A rediscovery of the magic they’d once shared when they were together at Sea Breeze during those long-ago summers—the three of them huddled on the beach under a single towel, whispering together in their beds, sipping from three straws in a single root-beer float, exploring the mysteries of the island and beach. Her prayer was that as the summer unfolded and the women shared time again at Sea Breeze—the very name implied a breath of fresh air—they would discover the life force that would give their lives purpose and meaning.
The sound of laughter swelled from below, drawing Mamaw’s attention again. Something had stirred the girls to that belly-holding, bent-over laughter that brought tears to the eyes. Their high-pitched hoots were louder than the piercing call of the osprey circling above them. Mamaw’s heart swelled and her eyes grew misty again.
“Look at them,” she said to Lucille. “That’s how I always want to see them. Happy. Bonding, supportive of each other. After we’re gone, that’s all they’re going to have. Is that too much to ask?”
“I reckon that’s every mother’s prayer,” Lucille said.
“I’m worried about them,” Mamaw said from the heart. “They look happy for the moment, but they’re still so unsettled. All of them. I wonder what I can do to help them.”
“Now don’t you start up on that again. Remember the trouble that caused? You got them all here. You got them back in the game. That’s all you can do. Now it’s up to them to play out their own hands.”
“But the cards are still being dealt,” Mamaw cautioned.
Lucille shrugged. “Sure enough. Till the game is over.” She turned to Marietta and they exchanged a look that spoke of a lifetime of shared worries. “You win some, you lose some.”
The symphonic honk of the Cadillac’s horn brought their attention back to the girls below. Carson was looking up to the rooftop, her arm straight in the air, waving. Mamaw and Lucille raised their hands and enthusiastically returned the wave. They watched as the big car pulled slowly out of the driveway with Dora and Harper trotting after it, shouting “Death to the ladies!” With a final honk, Carson hit the gas. The engine roared and she took off, disappearing around the hedge of greenery.
Dora and Harper remained at the end of the driveway waving for several moments. Then they linked arms and began walking together toward the beach.
“My, my, my,” Mamaw muttered at the sight. That was a first for those two. She looked beyond to the sparkling blue ocean. The waves rolled in and out in their metronome rhythm. Maybe Lucille was right, she thought, though she’d never admit it to her. Life really was just a game of cards.
Mamaw turned to Lucille. “Time to get out of this sun. Are you up for a game of gin? I’ll spot you twenty points.”
Lucille harrumphed. “The day I need you to spot me is the day I take up checkers.”
Mamaw laughed, feeling suddenly buoyed with hope. She grasped the stair railing, but before leaving the porch she paused, lifted her gaze, and took one final, sweeping look toward the sea. The blue Cadillac was nowhere to be seen, but in the distance she caught sight of the two women making their way together down the long, winding path.