Then the boat swamping, people tumbling into the water, reaching for the boy, seeing the look of silent suffering, the mother’s anguish as she held him. The blood.
He must have jerked himself awake at that point, overwhelmed with guilt. The guilt was always there, but kept constantly under control. Only his dreams loosed it, like a beast ready to devour him.
Running both hands through his damp hair, he clutched the back of his neck. Hot in here—maybe that was what had triggered the dream. It had been hot that day, too, but cooler once the patrol boat was out on the ocean.
A breath of jasmine-scented air touched her face. No use trying to go back to bed right away. He’d go to the kitchen, get a drink, maybe walk around a little until his nerves settled.
He padded silently down the stairs, reminding himself that the house’s three occupants slept behind the doors on the first floor. And thinking of them made him realize exactly why he’d dreamed tonight. It wasn’t the heat or the strange bed.
It was Cathy and Jamie. That first glimpse of the boy had done it. He’d seen Cathy bending over her son protectively, seen the look of patient suffering in the boy’s eyes, and he’d been right back there on the water off the Florida Keys.
Reaching the kitchen, he drew a glass of water from the tap. Tepid, but he drained it anyway in a long, thirsty gulp. He set the glass on the counter. Its click was followed by another sound—a creaking board. He turned.
Cathy stood in the doorway. Barefoot like him, she wore a striped robe that fell to her knees. Her hair was pulled back in a braid. Even in the dim light, he could see the question in her eyes.
She crossed to him quietly. “Is something wrong?”
“Just couldn’t sleep.” He wasn’t going to tell her why—not now, not ever, even though it might help to explain his initial reaction to Jamie.
“I don’t wonder, with this heat. I’m sure you’re used to air-conditioning.” She moved to the refrigerator and got out a pitcher of water, picked up his glass and poured. “Have this. At least it’s cold.”
“Thanks.” He took the glass she offered. It was frosty against his palm. “You’re not sleeping, either.”
She made an indeterminate little gesture with her hand. “Fretting about whether I’ve forgotten something, I guess. Or whether anything will go wrong.”
“I’m not surprised. The arrangements for this trip have been as complicated as planning a NATO summit.”
That brought a smile to her face. “You’re right about that. I thought a dozen times in the past couple of days that Grandpa would cancel the whole visit.”
“Luckily we had our secret weapon.”
At her look of incomprehension, he grinned. “Jamie. That boy could charm the birds from the trees. He reminds me of my brother, Cole. Cole can talk anybody into most anything.”
She tilted her head to one side, looking at him. “Is Cole like you?”
“In looks, you mean? He’s not as big as I am—more wiry, I guess you’d say. Not in temperament, either. I’m like my daddy, slow and solid. Maybe a little bit boring. Cole, he’s like quicksilver, gets mad fast, gets over it fast. I guess that’s why he’s flying a jet instead of running a patrol boat like me.”
“I don’t think you’re boring,” she said. “And it’s surely a good thing you’re patient, or planning this trip with my grandfather would have driven you crazy.”
“It’s okay. He has to have mixed feelings about going back after all this time.” He paused, wondering if she had any more insight than he did. She and her grandfather didn’t seem all that close. “Do you have any idea why he’s refusing to go to the beach house? My grandmother just assumed he’d want to stay there. I think she’s a little hurt that y’all are going to my mama and daddy’s in Mount Pleasant instead.”
She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it back into the loose single braid, maybe buying time. “He hasn’t talked to me about it, but I’m guessing he won’t go there because that’s where he had the big breach with his father. Too many bad memories, maybe.”
He considered that. “Bound to be some good ones, too, but…” He let that trail off, inviting her to finish the thought.
“He hasn’t forgiven his father.” She shook her head, the braid swinging. “The poor man’s been dead for half a century, I s’pose, but Grandpa can’t forgive him. He’s not good at forgiving.”
Something in her tone alerted him. “It sounds as if you have some personal experience with that.”
She didn’t speak for a moment—long enough for him to wish he hadn’t pried. This trip was going to be difficult enough without having her mad at him the whole time.
She let out her breath in a little sigh. “I know better than anyone.” She spread her hands slightly. “You’ve seen how he is with me. You probably wouldn’t believe that we were as close as could be once.”
“What happened?” he asked softly, just to keep her talking.
She stared blankly toward the window where a small patch of moonlight showed, but he didn’t think she was seeing that.
“I let him down,” she said finally. “He had his heart set on my going to college. He and Grandma saved every penny they could to make that happen. And then I had to lose my head over a guy. Quit college, get married. Break my grandma’s heart, to hear Grandpa tell it.”
If it had been daylight, she probably never would have said a word of that. The dark, silent kitchen seemed to encourage confidences.
“What you did was only what thousands of other kids probably do every year. It’s not so bad.”
“It was to Grandpa. He said if I persisted in doing something so foolish, he’d wash his hands of me.”
“But you’re here now.” What had happened to the man? Where did Jamie fit into the story?
“After Jamie was born, my husband left. I worked, but Jamie needed so much care—well, eventually we needed a place to live. Grandpa needed someone to look out for him.” She shrugged. “It worked out all right eventually. But I wouldn’t count on him forgiving anytime soon.”
Her voice had hardened, and she’d warned him off the private, obviously painful past. No matter. She was coming to Charleston, and he’d have time to hear the rest of the story.
“I’m pinning all my hopes on Miz Callie,” he said lightly. “This is her heart’s desire, and I imagine she can be just as stubborn as your grandfather.”
Cathy seemed to shake off the remnants of the past. “Let’s hope so, for all our sakes.”
Leaning against the counter, he studied her face, pale and perfect as a black-and-white drawing in the dim light. “There’s something I’ve been wondering about. I know why I’m going to all this trouble to bring Ned back to his family. Why are you?”
She looked startled and defensive, taking a step back. “I…I want what’s best for my grandfather, that’s all.”
Was it? He wasn’t so sure. He had a sense that there was more to Cathy’s desire to get her family to Charleston than he’d heard.
He’d be patient. He didn’t have to know all the answers tonight.
But he would know them, eventually.
“We’re going over the Ravenel Bridge now.” Adam’s voice was cheerful, as it had been