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Authors: Marta Perry
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head.
Instead, she swung her feet to the floor, toes curling into the rag rug that covered the bare boards. Normally she slept soundly, but last night her dreams had been a confused kaleidoscope of people and images. She couldn’t remember specifics, but she’d woken with her throat clogged with unshed tears.
Because of James? Maybe so.
She stretched, trying to shake off the feeling, but it per-sisted, even while she pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and drew her hair into a ponytail.
James had shown he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was—the man she’d fallen in love with. She’d been right to break it off, no matter what anyone said—anyone, in this case, being her mother. She’d tried to explain, hampered by the fact that she didn’t want to tell them she’d lost her job as well as her fiancé. There’d be time enough for that revelation when she’d decided what she was going to do with herself.
And in the meantime, there was Miz Callie’s problem to focus on. She shoved her feet into sneakers and headed for the stairs.
No sign of Miz Callie until she glanced through the sliding glass doors. Her grandmother was on the deck, red plastic bucket in hand, saying something to Lindsay, who looked up at her with an adoring expression.
Grabbing an apple from the pewter bowl on the table, she hurried out to join them.
“Hi. Wow, it’s going to be a hot one.”
Miz Callie settled her floppy hat on her head. “That’s why Lindsay and I are going on turtle patrol so early.”
“You like the turtles, too?” She smiled at Lindsay. The child nodded, but her gaze slid away from Georgia’s. “Come along,” Miz Callie said. “You may as well get
some exercise with us, since you slept right through your runnin’ time.”
“I did, didn’t I?” She stretched again, stifling a yawn, and nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
Miz Callie handed her the bucket, filled with the para-phernalia they’d need if they found a new nest.
Lindsay’s lower lip came out in a pout. “You said I could carry it. That’s not fair.”
Georgia gave the bucket to the child. “Sure thing, Lindsay.”
Lindsay snatched the bucket and spun to hurry down the stairs. A reluctant “thanks” floated back.
Georgia looked at her grandmother as they followed her. Miz Callie shrugged and shook her head in a not-in-front-of-the-child way.
When they reached the packed sand where the walking was easier, Lindsay danced along the lacy ripples of incoming waves.
Miz Callie smiled. “You used to do that very thing.” “All kids do, don’t they? Well, maybe the boys didn’t.
They always had some plan to carry out.”
“Mischief, as often as not.” Miz Callie was smiling.
Lindsay’s small figure looked as light and insubstantial as one of the sandpipers when she spun, her hair swinging in a pale arc.
“She doesn’t like me, does she?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Miz Callie shook her head, sighing a little. “Truth is, she’s probably a bit jealous. You coming along, snagging my attention. And her father’s.”
“I haven’t—” She gulped. “I haven’t snagged Matt’s attention, as you so elegantly put it. I’m only spending time with him because you got me into this.”
“Lindsay doesn’t know that.” Her grandmother watched the child, frowning. “She’s just desperate for folks to make her feel safe in this new place, with her mother gone and all. She’s a bit lost.”
Georgia winced. She’d felt that way herself.
“I should let her have her walk with you.” She stopped. “I could make some excuse…”
Miz Callie linked her arm in Georgia’s. “You’ll do no such thing. Might be good for that child to see that family can be bigger than just a couple of people.”
“She and Matt do seem pretty much on their own. Has he ever mentioned any other family to you?”
“I can’t say he has.” She sent Georgia a shadowed glance. “Speaking of family, I got together the information Matt asked
Instead, she swung her feet to the floor, toes curling into the rag rug that covered the bare boards. Normally she slept soundly, but last night her dreams had been a confused kaleidoscope of people and images. She couldn’t remember specifics, but she’d woken with her throat clogged with unshed tears.
Because of James? Maybe so.
She stretched, trying to shake off the feeling, but it per-sisted, even while she pulled on shorts and a T-shirt and drew her hair into a ponytail.
James had shown he wasn’t the man she’d thought he was—the man she’d fallen in love with. She’d been right to break it off, no matter what anyone said—anyone, in this case, being her mother. She’d tried to explain, hampered by the fact that she didn’t want to tell them she’d lost her job as well as her fiancé. There’d be time enough for that revelation when she’d decided what she was going to do with herself.
And in the meantime, there was Miz Callie’s problem to focus on. She shoved her feet into sneakers and headed for the stairs.
No sign of Miz Callie until she glanced through the sliding glass doors. Her grandmother was on the deck, red plastic bucket in hand, saying something to Lindsay, who looked up at her with an adoring expression.
Grabbing an apple from the pewter bowl on the table, she hurried out to join them.
“Hi. Wow, it’s going to be a hot one.”
Miz Callie settled her floppy hat on her head. “That’s why Lindsay and I are going on turtle patrol so early.”
“You like the turtles, too?” She smiled at Lindsay. The child nodded, but her gaze slid away from Georgia’s. “Come along,” Miz Callie said. “You may as well get
some exercise with us, since you slept right through your runnin’ time.”
“I did, didn’t I?” She stretched again, stifling a yawn, and nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
Miz Callie handed her the bucket, filled with the para-phernalia they’d need if they found a new nest.
Lindsay’s lower lip came out in a pout. “You said I could carry it. That’s not fair.”
Georgia gave the bucket to the child. “Sure thing, Lindsay.”
Lindsay snatched the bucket and spun to hurry down the stairs. A reluctant “thanks” floated back.
Georgia looked at her grandmother as they followed her. Miz Callie shrugged and shook her head in a not-in-front-of-the-child way.
When they reached the packed sand where the walking was easier, Lindsay danced along the lacy ripples of incoming waves.
Miz Callie smiled. “You used to do that very thing.” “All kids do, don’t they? Well, maybe the boys didn’t.
They always had some plan to carry out.”
“Mischief, as often as not.” Miz Callie was smiling.
Lindsay’s small figure looked as light and insubstantial as one of the sandpipers when she spun, her hair swinging in a pale arc.
“She doesn’t like me, does she?”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Miz Callie shook her head, sighing a little. “Truth is, she’s probably a bit jealous. You coming along, snagging my attention. And her father’s.”
“I haven’t—” She gulped. “I haven’t snagged Matt’s attention, as you so elegantly put it. I’m only spending time with him because you got me into this.”
“Lindsay doesn’t know that.” Her grandmother watched the child, frowning. “She’s just desperate for folks to make her feel safe in this new place, with her mother gone and all. She’s a bit lost.”
Georgia winced. She’d felt that way herself.
“I should let her have her walk with you.” She stopped. “I could make some excuse…”
Miz Callie linked her arm in Georgia’s. “You’ll do no such thing. Might be good for that child to see that family can be bigger than just a couple of people.”
“She and Matt do seem pretty much on their own. Has he ever mentioned any other family to you?”
“I can’t say he has.” She sent Georgia a shadowed glance. “Speaking of family, I got together the information Matt asked
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