The Beach House. Mary Monroe Alice

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after Emmi and I checked around a bit, we found a nice place for the nest. All in all, a good day.”

      “But a long one for you,” she amended with a serious look.

      “Oh, I’m fine, really. A little out of breath, but not the least bit fagged out.”

      “No pain?”

      “None at all.”

      “And you got that message from the volunteer about 6th Avenue?” she asked, bringing a small bowl filled with pills to Lovie.

      “I did, thank you. Flo passed it on to me.” She looked down at the pills and wrinkled her nose.

      “Come on, Miss Lovie, you know you got to. See? I bought you a doughnut to help with the swallowing. ‘A spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down,’ just like the song says. Now, come on, don’t put it off.”

      Lovie grimaced as she faced the mound of pills but Toy remained at her side, arms resolutely crossed over her chest as she waited. She hated to play the heavy but the doctor hadn’t been fooling around when he’d taken Toy aside and told her it was her job to make sure that Lovie swallowed each and every one of the pills. She tried to keep the conversation about turtles going to take Lovie’s mind off the swallowing.

      “So, did that call about 6th Avenue turn out to be a nest?”

      After a noisy swallow Lovie set the glass down and shook her head. “A false crawl. She came up the beach quite far, then wandered around a bit before turning back. We searched carefully but didn’t find a nest. I suspect she’s the same mother who laid the eggs a little farther down on 17th. The tracks were similar.” She stared at the remaining pills with dejection.

      “Come on, now, just a few more,” Toy prodded. She watched as Lovie took a deep breath, grabbed the two final pink pills, then swallowed them with a shiver of disgust.

      “There, that’s done.”

      “Horrid things. I don’t know why I still bother.”

      “Don’t say that. You know why. We want you around for a long time.”

      Lovie’s face softened and she looked at Toy with a sad expression. “At least for the summer.”

      “Oh, much longer than that. I’m already shopping for your Christmas present. But, yeah, summer is best. You’ve been so happy since the turtles came.”

      “And now, my own Caretta is back.”

      Toy’s smile fell.

      Lovie tilted her head and gazed at Toy speculatively. “You’ve met?”

      The legs of the chair scraped the pine wood floors as Toy joined Lovie at the table. She sat in a clumsy flop, leaving room for her growing belly.

      “Sort of. She answered that phone call about the tracks and I walked in from the store while she was talking. I think we kinda surprised each other.”

      “She fell asleep early last night. I thought we’d all have a chance to meet after you came home from the movies. As it turned out, I didn’t have a chance to tell her about you.”

      “I figured that. She looked at me like…Well, let’s just say she wasn’t glad to see me.”

      “Cara can be quite formidable.”

      Toy snorted. “I swear, Lovie, I can’t believe that she’s your daughter. I never seen two women cut from such different pieces of cloth.”

      Lovie chuckled, then said ruefully, “I’m sure she’d agree with you.”

      Toy twisted her mouth and began picking at her nail. “I was thinking. Maybe I should go someplace else, just for this week or so while she’s here. Give you two a little time alone.”

      “Where would you go?”

      “I guess I could go back to Darryl’s for a week.”

      “That’s out of the question.”

      Lovie’s sharp tone brought Toy’s gaze to her face. Lovie had straightened in the chair and her eyes were shining.

      “It’d just be for a week. I know he wants me back.”

      “We won’t even discuss the possibility of you returning to that man.”

      “He loves me.”

      They sat across from each other in a long silence. Lovie reached out and put her hand over Toy’s. “When I invited you to live here, I wanted you to feel that this was your home. I think we’ve managed quite nicely for ourselves here, don’t you?” When Toy nodded she continued. “So what made you think you’d be suddenly booted out when a guest arrived?”

      “We’re not talking about some guest. Cara’s your daughter.”

      “And you have become as a daughter to me, too.”

      Toy lowered her head and fixed her gaze on the small hand over hers. It was a mother’s hand. Though the skin was pale, almost translucent, with blue veins protruding over bones as fragile as a sparrow’s, Toy saw in it so much love and strength she felt her eyes water with emotion.

      Lovie said softly, “Tell me you’ll stay? That you’ll try to make this work?”

      Toy nodded sharply, embarrassed for her tears.

      

      Glancing at the clock Cara saw through bleary eyes that it was nearly noon. Her head felt groggy, as though she could sleep another twelve hours. But she couldn’t spend the entire day in bed, could she? The thought that yes, she could, was disquieting. Her mouth felt as if it were filled with cotton and a faint thrumming still pulsed in her skull. Swinging her legs off from the bed, she slipped into a pair of boxer shorts and padded down the hall toward the kitchen.

      She felt out of place in her childhood summer home, as if she didn’t belong. The beach house even looked different. Her mother had gutted and redesigned the small rooms of the old cottage to create one main, airy room in the center of the house that opened up at the front and back to large, covered verandas. To the left of the house was a small hall that led to the two small children’s bedrooms and a shared bath. To the right was the master bedroom, bathroom and a tiny kitchen. The clunky old kitchen she remembered was a far cry from the sleek galley kitchen with modern appliances she stepped into now.

      The only thing she recognized was the dish cabinet. Through the glass-fronted doors she saw the remainders of china sets that had been handed down through generations. Choosing a blue-and-white Meissen cup, she was comforted by something at once familiar on an out-of-sorts morning. The coffee was still blessedly hot in a thermos and someone had thoughtfully laid out a small plate of doughnuts.

      Moving at a slow pace, she carried her cup and pastry to the screened porch and slumped into a large wooden rocking chair facing the ocean. Straight ahead, across the empty lot of low-humped dunes and wild, gnarled greenery, the ocean placidly rolled, distant and unwelcoming.

      “Well,

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