Summer's Child (11 page)

D
ARIA AWAKENED HUNGRY THAT
S
ATURDAY MORNING
. T
HE
sunlight poured into her bedroom, where everything was white and blue and clean and bright, and she felt the blissful realization that she did not have to go to work or teach a class or do anything other than goof off all day. Perhaps she would go to the gym. Perhaps Rory would go at the same time. Then, suddenly, she remembered that Ellen and Ted were in the cottage, and her mood plummeted.

They had arrived the night before, and Daria had instantly felt her spirits sink when their car pulled into the driveway. She hadn’t had to deal with her cousin since the summer before, and only now did she realize how heavenly the year had been without Ellen’s opinions and interference. Daria had greeted the two visitors, then pleaded exhaustion and went to bed, feeling a little guilty leaving Chloe and Shelly to provide hospitality.

Ellen, along with Aunt Josie, had spent all of her summers at the Sea Shanty until the year she married Ted. Since then, she and Ted and their two daughters came down on occasional summer weekends. They never waited for an invitation. Ellen would simply call and say they were coming, and after all these
years, Daria felt unable to tell her no. Anyway, Chloe would never let Daria turn their cousin away. Chloe was able to view Ellen from an entirely different perspective. “We have to understand why Ellen is the way she is,” she would say. “Her father died when she was little. Aunt Josie wasn’t exactly the warmest, most maternal human being on earth. We need to have sympathy for Ellen. We need to show her love and compassion.” But it was hard to show someone love and compassion when all you received was sarcasm and insensitivity in return.

Trying to recapture her good feelings, Daria got out of bed and pulled on shorts and a T-shirt. She glanced out her window at Poll-Rory, wondering if Rory was up yet. Then she walked down the stairs to face her guests.

She found Ellen on the porch, pouring orange juice into glasses on the picnic table. A platter of waffles and sausages rested in the center of the table, and Daria knew that Shelly had busied herself cooking that morning, probably to escape from Ellen.

“Well,” Ellen said, looking up from her task, and Daria noticed that her cousin’s hair was strewn with silver now. The color was actually pretty, especially in the sunlight pouring through the porch screens, but it looked as though a five-year-old had cut her hair with dull scissors. “You look a little more with it this morning.”

Already, Daria felt her skin prickle. “I’m sorry I crashed so early last night,” she said, sitting down in one of the rockers. “It had been a long day at work.”

“Well, no one held a gun to your head when you picked such a physical career,” Ellen said. She set the pitcher down on the table and arranged the glasses by the individual place settings.

“Guess I’m just a masochist,” Daria said, unwilling to get
into a fight.
Better than being a sadist
, she thought, remembering the mammogram she’d had the year before. A small cyst had appeared in her breast and her doctor had ordered the test to rule out anything serious. The mammogram had been simple, quick and painless, but she imagined the experience would be entirely different if a technician like Ellen were responsible for tightening that cold plastic vise.

Chloe walked onto the porch and glanced at the table. “How come there are only four place settings?” she asked.

“Guess,” Ellen said. “Ted’s going fishing.”

As if on cue, Ted walked onto the porch, fishing pole in one hand, bucket in the other. “What’s been biting lately?” he asked Daria.

Daria tried to remember the latest fishing report. It was impossible to live in the Outer Banks and not be aware of what was biting.

“Croaker, I think,” she said. “Spot. Bring us home some dinner, okay?” She didn’t dislike Ted. He was overweight, with a belly that protruded farther over his waistband every year. He had kind brown eyes and a receding thatch of gray hair. He was bland, reticent and a doormat to his wife, but there was little offensive in his own demeanor. For as long as Daria had known him, Ted would take off for the fishing pier first chance he got, and she didn’t blame him for wanting that escape.

He gave Ellen a peck on the cheek. “See you tonight, honey,” he said. “Be ready to fire up the grill when I get home.”

“Why?” Ellen asked. “Are you picking up some steaks on the way back from the pier?”

“Very funny,” he said as he left the porch to walk out to his car.

Shelly carried a bowl of fruit onto the porch. “Let’s eat,” she said, and the four of them sat down at the picnic table.

“How are your girls doing in France?” Daria asked Ellen, scooping some of the fruit onto her plate.

“Oh, they’re loving it. It sounds like they’re doing more shopping and manhunting than studying, though.” Ellen laughed.

“I’m going to miss not having them around this summer,” Daria said honestly. Ellen’s daughters were nothing like their mother, and they always tried to include Shelly in their activities, despite the fact that they were five years younger.

“I can’t say that I miss them,” Ellen said. “It’s finally peaceful at our house. No loud music. No teenagers running in and out of the house day and night.” She suddenly looked at her watch. “How come you’re not working today?” she asked. “You always used to do your EMT work on Saturdays, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m taking a break from it,” Daria said.

Ellen looked surprised. “Supergirl’s getting too old for that regimen, huh?” she asked.

“Something like that,” Daria said, taking the easy way out.

“And where’s Pete?” Ellen asked. “Feels strange not to have him hanging around here.”

“We broke up,” Daria said.

“You’re kidding.” Ellen looked genuinely sympathetic. “You were so perfect for each other,” she said. “He was your type, I always thought. You need that supermasculine sort of guy, you being the athletic type yourself. You only look feminine next to a man like Pete.”

“Well, it just wasn’t meant to be,” Daria said, thinking that Ellen had even managed to turn her condolences into an insult.

Daria heard the slamming of the porch door across the cul-de-sac and instantly turned in the direction of the sound, as if she’d been waiting for it. Rory was walking across his yard
to his car. Daria extracted herself from the picnic-table bench and opened the porch door.

“Hey!” she called. “Do you want to go to the athletic club later?”

Rory stopped to look at her, his car door half-open. “I have company coming today,” he said.

“Oh, okay. See ya.” She closed the door and took her seat at the table again, trying to mask her disappointment. She wondered if “company” meant Grace.

Ellen was staring across the cul-de-sac. “Is that…?”

“Rory Taylor.” Shelly finished the sentence for her.

“Well, my, my, my,” Ellen said. “After all these years.”

“He’s going to find my real mother,” Shelly said.

“He’s going to try, hon,” Daria corrected her. “You know he might not be able to.”

“Well, that’s an asinine waste of time,” Ellen said.

“What does asinine mean?” Shelly asked.

“Oh, come on, Shelly, you know that word,” Ellen said. “Stop playing stupid.”

“I
don’t
know it,” Shelly protested.

“It means, what on earth is the point in him trying to find your mother?” Ellen said. “What will you do with her once you find her? Take her on some tell-all reality show so you can yell at her for screwing up your life?”

“Ellen.” Chloe made a very un-nunlike face. “Be kind.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Shelly said.

Daria knew that when her younger sister’s voice took on that tinny edge, she was two seconds away from crying. “We would all rather Shelly didn’t pursue this,” she said to Ellen, “but it’s important to her.”

Shelly looked surprised at her sudden support. “Thanks,” she said.

“Well, good,” Ellen said. “Shelly’s finally being allowed to
make a decision on her own. After twenty years of you telling her when to blow her nose.”

Daria could think of no suitable retort that would not upset Chloe, so she kept her mouth shut. Ellen had always complained about Daria’s overprotectiveness toward Shelly. Right from the start, she’d tried to change Daria’s approach with her. Shelly should have been in regular public-school classes, she’d argued. She would have learned to keep up eventually. She should be forced to live on her own and get a real job like everyone else. Daria babied her too much. Shelly had never learned to stand on her own two feet. And on and on.

Ellen had no sympathy for Shelly’s fears. Even at Sue Cato’s funeral, when Shelly was beside herself with grief and battling a whole new crop of fears precipitated by the loss of her mother, Ellen saw fit to torment her. After the funeral, everyone went back to the Catos’ house for a dinner of sandwiches and salads. Shelly was sitting on an overstuffed chair in the living room, and Ellen, knowing full well her cousin’s irrational fear of earthquakes, snuck up behind the chair and shook it, sending eight-year-old Shelly flying out of the room in terror. Daria, then nineteen, had smacked her older cousin across the face, starting a brawl that left few physical injuries but plenty of hard feelings.

Chloe suddenly stood up. “I have to go over to St. Esther’s,” she said. “Do you mind cleaning up?” She was looking at Daria.

“No problem.” She thought Chloe was rather brave to leave her there with Ellen, when she had to know Daria was ready to rip her cousin’s throat out. But she managed to get through the washing and drying of the dishes without incident, and then she escaped to the athletic club, alone.

R
ORY HANDED
G
RACE THE GLASS OF LEMONADE, THEN SAT
down in one of the other chairs on Poll-Rory’s porch. They had the cottage to themselves. Grace had arrived just as Zack left for the water park with Kara and her various siblings and cousins. Rory had felt nervous about this meeting between Zack and Grace, when it would be apparent she was there for some purpose other than to borrow the phone. Zack had merely mumbled a greeting to Grace, then left the cottage with Kara. He seemed truly indifferent to whatever Rory wanted to do. Maybe he was even pleased that Rory had someone to keep him occupied and off his back.

Grace was wearing an emerald green sundress, sandals and the blue see-through sunglasses. Her light brown bangs were long and sexy. He liked looking at her.

“Well,” Grace said, “tell me more about the child who was found on the beach.”

He was hoping she would ask that question. They’d talked about the shop she ran in Rodanthe—it was part sundries and part café, she said—and they talked a bit about Zack, and he began to wonder if his story about Shelly was not all that compelling after all. But now she seemed interested, her gaze focused on the cottage across the cul-de-sac.

“What would you like to know?” he asked. “What do you think people would want to know about her?”

“What her life has been like,” Grace said. “What she looks like. You said she’s beautiful?”

“She’s a beauty, all right,” Rory said. “Tall and blond.”

“And brain-damaged.” Grace pursed her lips as though this fact made her angry.

“She’s just a little…” He didn’t want to say
simple
. Somehow that word was not appropriate. “She’s…ingenuous, if you know what I mean. I don’t know her well, I’ve only spoken to her a few times, but she seems very trusting in an innocent sort of way.”

“Was she treated well by her adoptive family?” Grace asked.

“She’s loved,” he said. “Her mother died when she was eight, though, and one of her sisters took over her care.”

“Oh…” Grace frowned. “Poor little thing. She lost two mothers.”

“I think Daria took terrific care of her, though.”

“What about…holding a job? Can she work? How did she do in school? What about socially? Did she—”

“Whoa.” Rory laughed, pleased. He should be writing down her questions so he’d be sure to address them in the program. “One question at a time. I think she had some special classes. I guess I’ll have to find out more about that. And she works as a housekeeper at a Catholic church, but Daria—her sister—told me she needs a lot of supervision. Shelly is pretty dependent on her.”

“The brain damage…what do they attribute that to?”

“Something to do with her birth, I guess, or with the time she spent abandoned on the beach. I don’t know. I don’t know if anyone really knows.”

“I don’t see how you can possibly find out who left her on the beach after all this time,” Grace said. “I mean, I’m a little
worried about you being disappointed. It seems like an impossible task.”

He was not worried. All he had done so far was sift through the police records, but he was making a list of people to talk to, including the detective involved in the case and everyone on the cul-de-sac. He didn’t feel rushed. He had the whole summer.

“You’d be amazed the things we’ve found out through researching incidents for
True Life Stories
,” he said. “Sometimes the mysteries are solved during the research itself, like the time we figured out who had murdered a little boy, even though the police and FBI had been on the case for years and had turned up nothing. Our researchers brought a different perspective to the case and were able to uncover the real murderer.” He guessed that Grace was not a regular viewer of
True Life Stories
or she would have known the incredible success the program had had in solving the unsolvable.

“That’s amazing,” Grace said. “But how exactly will you try to find out who the baby’s mother is?”

“By questioning people. Sometimes people remember things now that didn’t seem important enough to report to the police at the time. And they’ll disclose those things to me. Another way we’ve solved mysteries is by presenting all the details of the story on the show, and then people come forward with the truth. You’d be surprised at how often that happens.”

“How sure are you that you’ll be able to solve this one?” Grace asked.

“I have a feeling about it,” Rory said. “Probably whoever abandoned Shelly confided in someone over the years. Or maybe she’s suffering from having made that decision. Maybe she would want to be reunited with her daughter after all this time.”

To his delight, the door to the Sea Shanty opened and
Shelly walked out into the yard. She was wearing her white bikini, her gauzy skirt. She turned in the direction of the beach.

“Speaking of Shelly,” Rory said, nodding in the direction of the Sea Shanty.

“Is that her?” Grace leaned forward in her chair. She lifted the sunglasses off her nose for a better look.

“It sure is,” he said. “Would you like to meet her?” He was anxious for another opportunity to talk with Shelly himself, but she had already disappeared over the dune. “We can catch up to her,” he said, and glanced at Grace’s fair skin. “I have some sunscreen in the cottage you can use.”

Grace stood up. “I already have some on,” she said.

They began walking toward the beach.

“I used to be a sun worshiper,” Grace said. She held her arm out in front of her as they walked, and studied the pale skin. “I guess that’s hard to believe right now.”

“Well,” Rory said, “at least you won’t get skin cancer.” He winced. That had been an insensitive thing to say. Maybe she’d
had
skin cancer, or some other form of cancer, and that was her problem. He wanted to ask her about her illness, but it felt too much like prying.

“Hey, Shelly!” he called as they crossed over the dune.

Shelly turned at the sound of her name and waved to him as she started walking toward them. The breeze tossed her blond hair into the air and blew her skirt against her long legs, and he wondered if Grace was as captured by the sight of her as he was.

“Hi, Rory,” she said.

“I just wanted to introduce you to a friend of mine,” Rory said. “This is Grace.”

Shelly smiled and held her hand out to Grace. “I’m Shelly,” she said. She wore small, rose-colored sunglasses, and Rory had to smile. They certainly suited her view of the world.

Grace shook Shelly’s hand, but said nothing.

“Can we walk with you awhile?” Rory asked.

“Sure,” Shelly said. “Down by the water, okay? I want to get my feet wet.”

Once they began walking, Grace was no longer quiet. She bombarded Shelly with questions. What was her job like? What did she like best about it? What did she like least? What was growing up like for her? Did she have friends? Shelly answered every question with the sort of childlike honesty Rory was coming to expect from her.

“Rory told me about…how you were found on the beach,” Grace said. “Did you always know about that? Did you always know that you were adopted?”

“Oh, yes,” Shelly said. She giggled. “It was pretty obvious, anyway. I mean, everybody else in my family has really dark hair, and they’re not very tall. And there I was, this skinny, blond string bean.”

“But it sounds like your adoptive family took great care of you, right? Maybe it was for the best that your mother…deserted you, and you ended up with a good family.”

“Absolutely,” Shelly said. “I got a really good family.”

“Were you always very tall?” Grace asked. “I mean, were you the tallest girl in your class when you were growing up? You’re nearly as tall as me.”

“Yup,” Shelly said. “And I think, actually, I’m taller than you.” She looked at the top of Grace’s head, measuring. “The beach is slanted, and it’s hard to tell.”

“Kids always teased me when I was young,” Grace said. “They said I looked like Olive Oyl. Did you get teased a lot?”

“No, hardly at all. Daria wouldn’t let anybody tease me.”

“Daria is her sister,” Rory explained, in case she’d forgotten.

Grace nodded. “Yes. The one who found her…found Shelly.”

“She’s Supergirl,” Shelly said.

“You mean…because she saved you?” Grace asked.

“Me and a lot of other people. She’s an EMT. Well, she was, anyhow.”

“She sounds like an amazing person,” Grace said. “I’m so glad she’s taken such good care of you.”

Rory was beginning to feel superfluous to the conversation, but he didn’t mind. He was taking mental notes, trying to ascertain from Grace’s questions what aspects of Shelly’s life would be of interest to his viewers.

“Rory said you make necklaces out of shells,” Grace said.

“Not just necklaces,” Shelly said. “All kinds of jewelry.”

“I’d like to see your jewelry sometime,” Grace said.

This was Grace’s natural style, Rory thought: passionate interest in others. He liked that about her very much. He wondered if she would be able to draw Zack out with her questions, the way she was doing with Shelly.

“You know,” Grace began slowly, “sometimes when babies have a rough start in life, as you did, they develop health problems. Do you have any special health problems?”

The question struck Rory as odd. Intrusive and leading. Was she trying to get Shelly to admit to the brain damage? What on earth was Grace’s purpose in that?

But Shelly did not seem the least bit put off by the question. In fact, she embraced it.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” she said, a look of surprise on her face. “How did you know that?” She looked at Rory. “She’s really smart,” she said, nodding toward Grace, who wore a tight smile.

“I guess she is,” Rory said.

“I get seizures,” Shelly said. “Do you think it’s because I was left on the beach?”

Grace touched her arm in comfort, and Rory was moved by the gesture. It seemed as if it had been the right question
to ask, after all, and he thought that Grace was an amazing woman. Intuitive, curious and kind. Why on earth would her husband have left her? Of course, he didn’t know if that was the way it had happened. And anyway, Glorianne had left him.

“Perhaps, but not necessarily,” Grace answered Shelly’s question. “Some people are born with that problem. You probably would have the seizures whether your mother left you on the beach or not. How often do you have them?”

“Not very often,” Shelly said. “But I’ve never gone a year without one, so I can’t drive. Which is annoying.” Shelly made a face. “Daria or somebody has to drive me everywhere. Although I walk a lot. I can walk to St. Esther’s if the weather’s not too bad. Anyhow, I take medicine, and that helps me not have them as much.”

“Rory told me he wants to tell your story on his TV show. What do you think about that?”

“I think it is extremely cool,” Shelly said, grinning. Then she instantly sobered as she looked at Grace’s shoulders. “Your shoulders are burning,” she said.

Rory saw she was right. The skin next to Grace’s green sundress was turning pink. “We’d better go back,” he said. “Or you’ll be sore tonight.”

They stopped walking and Grace glanced at her shoulder, scowling.

“You have to start out really slow getting a tan in the summer,” Shelly advised. “And use lots of 15.”

“Thanks.” Grace smiled at her. She looked up at the sun, as if wishing it might go away. Then she sighed. “Yes, I guess we’d better go back.”

“I’m going to keep walking for a while,” Shelly said. “It was nice meeting you, Grace.”

“And you, too, Shelly,” Grace said. She watched as Shelly took off down the beach, then began walking next to Rory.

“What a delightful young woman!” Grace beamed.

“You were great with her,” Rory said.

Grace looked surprised by the compliment. “I just talked to her, that’s all. She’s quite easy to talk with. I see what you mean about her being…ingenuous. Someone could take advantage of her way too easily.”

“And I don’t want to do that,” Rory said, instantly defensive.

“Oh, I wasn’t suggesting you would.”

“Sorry. I’m a little sensitive about it because Daria thinks I shouldn’t delve into Shelly’s past. But Shelly wants me to. You can tell that, can’t you?”

“Yes, she does,” Grace said slowly. “But maybe she doesn’t know what’s best for her.”

They walked in silence for a while, and Rory wondered how Zack would respond to all of Grace’s questions.

“Would you like to go out to dinner with my son and me tonight?” he asked as they climbed over the diminutive dune to the cul-de-sac.

“Oh, thank you,” she said, “but I have to work.”

Although she seemed far stronger today than she had the first time he’d met her on the beach, she was once again tremulous as he walked her to her car in his driveway.

“Do you need a glass of water or anything before you go?” he asked.

“No, thank you.”

“You seem shaky all of a sudden,” he said.

“I just…” Grace looked toward the cul-de-sac as she got into the driver’s seat. “I guess I’m just thinking about Shelly. I feel sorry for her. For what she’s been through.”

Rory nodded. “I know,” he said. “She’s had a good life with the Cato family, but I still get angry every time I think about that woman who abandoned her on the beach. Shelly came—”
he held his thumb and forefinger a quarter of an inch apart “—this close to dying.”

Grace stared through her car window toward the beach. “Maybe you shouldn’t be too quick to pass judgment on that woman without knowing the circumstances, Rory,” she said. “Who knows what she was going through?”