Lessons of a Lowcountry Summer Page 9

  All eyes were trained on Theo as he leaned back against the dark red Naugahyde booth. He gave each one a long, measured stare before he fixed his gaze on Noelle. “What have I done to make you think I love Brandon more than I love you or Christian?”

  With wide eyes, she asked, “You… you love me—us?”

  “If you’d asked me that question six months ago, or even a month ago, I would’ve said no.”

  “And now?”

  Theo smiled. “Now, pumpkin, I realize I love you and your brothers enough to sacrifice whatever it takes to make certain you’re safe and happy.”

  Christian cleared his throat. “What would you sacrifice?”

  He told them about the television project for the cable network and the September thirtieth deadline he had to complete the six scripts. He also revealed that he had been willing to pass on the project until his agent had offered the use of his house on McKinnon Island.

  Christian looked at his brother and sister, then decided to become the spokesperson for the group. “In other words, you need us to stay out of your face until you complete the scripts?”

  Theo shook his head. There was something about Christian that reminded him of himself when he was his age. Outspoken, confident. He could also assume a take-charge posture when called upon.

  “All I’m asking for is your cooperation. You know I usually get up early to write, so I would appreciate not being disturbed unless it is a life-and-death situation. Miss Helen is more than capable of answering your questions and solving problems. The afternoons and evenings will be our time together. I promised to teach you all to swim, and I intend to keep that promise.

  “If you want to go somewhere, then let me know the day before. Christian, you have your driver’s license, and I’ve already cleared it with Mr. Helfrick that you may drive his SUV, but only on McKinnon Island. If you need to leave the island, then either Miss Helen or I will accompany you. Every Sunday night I will give each of you a weekly allowance. If you spend it before the next Sunday, then you’ll have to wait.” He paused. “Are there any questions?”

  Christian bit back a grin. “It sounds good to me.”

  Theo glanced at Brandon. “How about you?”

  “It’s cool, Theo.”

  “Noelle?”

  She shrugged her shoulder. “I suppose it’s okay.”

  Theo paid the bill and left a generous tip. As he waited for everyone to get into the SUV, he thought about Noelle’s response. Why, he thought, was it so hard for him to get through to her? She had accused him of favoring Brandon when it was she he had bent over backward for. He had heard people say it was easier to raise a boy than a girl, and for the first time in his life he believed it.

  Twelve

  You will have the road gate open, the front door ajar.

  —Patrick Kavanagh

  Hope sat on her porch, drinking her second cup of tea.

  Yesterday’s storm had passed over the island, leaving the sky a startling blue. Bright NO SWIMMING orange pennants flapped wildly from metal stakes placed along the beach. Children who had visited or grown up on McKinnon learned quickly not to ignore the colorful flags. The pennants, usually posted before or after a storm, indicated rough surf and dangerous undertow, which could sweep the strongest swimmer under within seconds.

  Her gaze narrowed when she spied a lone figure walking the beach. Someone was up early. She continued to sip the flavorful herbal drink as she watched the figure come closer and closer. Then, Hope went completely still when she saw the person turn and walk toward the water.

  Don’t you see the orange flags?

  Within seconds the figure was on the beach, then gone, swept away by the tide. Dropping her cup, Hope bounded off the porch, racing toward the water. Her bare feet sunk into the wet sand as she sprinted and dove into the ocean. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest as she searched under the water. She came up for air, filling her lungs with oxygen, then dove under again. Then she saw her. Braided hair fanned out around her brown face like octopus tentacles.

  Reaching out, Hope caught the braids and began pulling as she fought the force pulling her and the girl downward. She wrapped the braids around her fist, and kicked her legs until she broke the surface. Then she began swimming back to the beach. Her eyes burned and her throat was raw from swallowing salt water.

  She collapsed on the beach, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Head lowered, she crawled on hands and knees to the slender figure lying facedown in the foaming surf. Hope turned her over, her eyes widening when she stared down at the face of a young girl who stared up at her with a flat, hard expression. The hatred blazing from her eyes chilled Hope even more.

  “Who told you to pull me out?”

  Hope’s fear was supplanted with rage so intense that she wanted to slap the girl for risking not one, but two, lives. “What did you say?” The question had come out in a raspy whisper. The girl closed her eyes and turned her head. The fragile rein on Hope’s temper snapped, and she reached out and pulled the girl up, shaking her until her head rolled limply on her shoulders.

  “If you want to kill yourself, then you should’ve done it further down the beach where I couldn’t see you!” The girl opened her eyes, glared at Hope, then broke down and cried.

  Seeing the girl cry was Hope’s undoing. The girl was a little more than a child. Her wet T-shirt clung to a slender body with just a hint of budding young breasts. Wrapping her arms around her shoulders, Hope held her, rocking her like a mother would a fretful infant. “It’s okay,” she crooned softly. “You’re going to be all right, sweetheart.”

  Noelle heard the soothing feminine voice, and suddenly she felt safe. “Mama,” she sobbed before another wave of tears flowed unchecked.

  Hope went completely still. The girl thought she was her mother. She decided to play along. “Yes, baby? I’m here for you.”

  “Why did you have to die, Mama? Why couldn’t you and Daddy wait to come back another day?”

  Easing back, Hope stared at the girl’s grief-stricken expression. She could tell from the look in the girl’s eyes that she was beginning to realize she wasn’t her mother.

  “Let me go!”

  “Not yet.”

  Her delicate chin quivered. “Please.”

  “Not until you tell me your name.”

  Panic rioted within Noelle. She needed to get away. “I can’t.”

  Hope smiled. “Why not?” She had affected her therapist voice.

  “Because you’ll tell my brother.”

  “Tell him what?”

  “That I tried to kill myself.”

  Hope’s hands moved up, and she cradled the girl’s face. Sand clung to her forehead and cheeks. “Did you really want to kill yourself?”

  Noelle’s lashes fluttered wildly. “I don’t know.” She shrugged a narrow shoulder under her wet T-shirt. “I don’t know how to swim.”

  “Do you know what the orange flags on the beach mean?”

  “No.”

  “They are put there to warn people not to go into the water.”

  Noelle sniffed loudly. “I didn’t know.”

  “I want you to come back to my house with me, where you can clean yourself up.”

  “Will you tell my brother what I tried to do?”

  “I can’t answer that question because I don’t know who you are.”

  Biting down on her lower lip, Noelle closed her eyes. “My name is Noelle Anderson.”

  Hope dropped her hands and smiled. “What a beautiful name.”

  Noelle opened her eyes. “I was born a week before Christmas.” There was a hint of pride in her voice.

  “How old are you, Noelle?”

  “Thirteen.”

  Thirteen, suicidal, and an orphan, Hope mused. It was definitely a dangerous combination.

  “Does your brother know where you are?”

  Noelle shook her head. “No. But I told Miss Helen I was going for a walk.”

 
Hope did not ask who Miss Helen was. “They’re probably going to be looking for you if you don’t get back soon. Come into the house with me and wash your face. Then I’ll take you home.”

  Reaching out, Noelle clutched Hope’s wrist. “Promise me you won’t tell my brother that I tried to hurt myself.”

  Hurt. The girl had tried to kill herself, and she’d thought of it as an attempt to hurt herself. And why did Noelle think Hope would know her brother? The name Anderson was not one she was familiar with.

  “I won’t tell him if you promise not to go into the water by yourself again.”

  An expression of indecision crossed Noelle’s young face before she finally said, “I promise.”

  Hope waited while Noelle washed her face and rinsed her braided hair. She handed her a towel to absorb most of the water. Hope didn’t have any clothes that would fit Noelle, so the girl would have to go back home wearing her wet shorts, sneakers, and T-shirt.

  They walked along Beach Road in silence, and it wasn’t until they made their way toward a winding unpaved road that Noelle asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Hope.”

  Noelle gave Hope a sidelong glance. The woman who had pulled her out of the water was beautiful. Her strange-colored eyes glowed like bits of gold in her dark brown face.

  “Who named you that?”

  Hope smiled. “My mother. She had had two boys, so when she discovered she was going to have another baby, she hoped I would be a girl.”

  “I guess it’s a nice name.”

  “I’d like to think it’s a wonderful name.”

  Noelle pointed to her left. “I’m staying there.” The house was built on a slight incline less than a hundred feet off the road.

  Hope sighed. It was one of the newer houses on McKinnon. First there was one, two, then the self-contained, gated communities. In less than twenty years the landscape and the faces of the inhabitants would probably change completely. How long would it be before a developer arrived, checkbook in hand, to offer her an astronomical amount for her to sell her heritage?

  “Do you want me to go in with you?”

  Noelle shook her head. “I’ll be all right.” She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, blinking back tears. “Thank you, Miss Hope.”

  “You know where I live, Noelle, so if you need someone to talk to, then just drop by. My door will always be open for you.”

  A smile trembled over Noelle’s mouth. “That’s okay. I won’t bother you.”

  Hope returned her smile. “It’s not about bothering me. I was thirteen once.”

  The teenager nodded, then turned and made her way slowly toward the two-story house overlooking the beach. Hope watched until she disappeared from view before she turned to retrace her steps.

  Noelle made her way around to the back of the house, opening a rear door that led into a mudroom. She removed her wet shoes and brushed grains of sand off the soles of her feet, then walked into the kitchen.

  She came to a complete halt when she saw Theo leaning against the cooking island, sipping coffee. There was no way she could make it up to her bedroom without him seeing her wet clothes.

  “Theo?”

  He turned, his gaze widening when he took in her wet hair and T-shirt. He set down the mug in slow motion. “What happened to you?”

  “I went into the water.” She had decided to tell the truth.

  Theo closed the distance between them. “Didn’t you see the orange warning flags?”

  “I didn’t know what they meant.”

  Curving his arms around Noelle’s shoulders, he pulled her to his chest. “I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.”

  Noelle had expected Theo to yell at her, not console her, and that shocked and confused her. The floodgates opened, and as she sobbed against his shoulder, she confessed how she had tried to kill herself by drowning and about the woman who had jumped into the ocean and pulled her to safety.

  Lowering his head, he kissed her damp hair. “It’s all right, pumpkin.”

  “You’re not mad at me?”

  Theo closed his eyes and mumbled a silent prayer of thanks. All that mattered was that Noelle was safe. He opened his eyes. “No, baby girl, I’m not angry with you.”

  She pulled back and stared up at him. “That’s what Daddy used to call me.”

  “Baby girl?” She nodded. “Would you prefer I not call you that?”

  Her smooth brow furrowed. “It’s okay if you do.” She appeared so much younger than thirteen.

  Theo’s gaze met and fused with his sister’s. “I can’t replace your father, but I promise to take care of you, be there for you in good times and not so good times. I don’t have any experience with children, teenagers in particular, so I need you to be patient with me.”

  The corners of her mouth lifted. “You do yell a lot, Theo.”

  He frowned. “Do you have to remind me of that?” Theo cradled her face in his hands. “If you need to talk about anything, I want you to come to me first.”

  “I promise you I won’t try it again.”

  He knew he had to watch Noelle carefully, because if she’d attempted suicide once, then there was always the possibility she might try it again. “I’m going to hold you to that promise, otherwise you’re going back into counseling.”

  A shadow of alarm touched her face. She hated the therapist and did not want to go back to her. “I mean it, Theo.”

  “If you’re to become responsible for your behavior, then you’re going to have to face the consequences.”

  “I’m grounded?”

  Theo nodded. “For the next three days you will help Miss Helen around the house. And that includes doing laundry, cooking and cleaning. You will not be permitted to leave the house or hang out on the beach.”

  “Mama never grounded us.”

  He wanted to tell Noelle that parents not establishing boundaries for their children contributed to all types of antisocial behaviors. “I am not your Mama, Noelle.” There was a hard edge in his voice.

  “I understand.” The two words were soft, barely audible.

  “Good. I want you to change your clothes, then check in with Miss Helen.” He cradled the back of her wet head in his hand, leaned down, and kissed her forehead. “We’ll talk again later.”

  Theo watched Noelle as she walked out of the kitchen. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath until he felt the tightness in his chest. The enormity of his sister’s suicide attempt finally hit him, and he moved on shaking knees to a tall stool at the cooking island. Christian and Brandon had lost their mother and father, and he shuddered to think how they would react to losing their sister, too.

  Resting his elbows on the granite countertop, he buried his face in his hands and did something he had not done in a very long time—he prayed. He prayed for guidance, strength, and especially for understanding. He needed all three in his attempt to become a surrogate father to his siblings.

  Hope sat at the table on the porch and rearranged the three-by-five index cards for the third time that morning. She stared at the topics she had written with a black marker: Relationships, Marriage, Divorce, Adolescent Years, Health, Death and Dying, Spirituality, Money Matters, Lifestyles, Parenting, and Career vs. Job. There were eleven cards—an uneven number. She needed to either add one or delete one. She shook her head. All of the topics were essential, so that meant she would have to come up with one more.

  Leaning back against the cushioned rocker, she closed her eyes. She had a monumental task in front of her—going through hundreds of disks to extract the letters she wanted to reprint for her book. Each disk, labeled by month and year, contained every published “Straight Talk” column. Now, if she could come up with one more topic, she would begin to review the archives.

  Hope heard someone clear his throat, and she opened her eyes and sat up straighter. Standing on the first step to the porch was a tall, slender black man whose face was vaguely familiar. She had seen him befo
re but could not remember where.

  Pushing off the rocker, she stared at him as a knowing smile softened her mouth. He looked as if he had stepped off the pages of a Ralph Lauren ad, with his navy blue golf shirt, white pleated front walking shorts, and navy canvas Docksiders. She could not remember the last time she had come face-to-face with a “preppy brother.” She wanted to see the eyes concealed behind the lenses of his sunglasses. Perhaps then she would recognize him.

  “Good morning.”

  Theo’s impassive expression did not change. He did not want to believe, could not believe the woman Noelle had told him about was Dr. Hope Sutton. The celebrated psychologist-advice columnist had saved his sister’s life. He had seen her guest appearances on several televised talk shows, but he had to admit she was much prettier in person. Even with her hair pulled off her bare face and dressed in an oversized T-shirt with a pair of cropped pants, she was delightfully feminine.

  He inclined his head. “Good morning, Dr. Sutton.”

  He knew who she was. “Hope Sutton.”

  Theo smiled for the first time. “Hope, Dr. Sutton. It doesn’t matter what you call yourself, because I would like to thank you for saving my sister’s life earlier this morning.”

  “You’re Noelle’s brother.” The question had come out like a statement.

  “One of her brothers.” Removing his sunglasses, he extended his right hand. “Theo Howell.”

  Hope’s jaw dropped slightly as she stared at the proffered hand. She did not want to believe that Noelle’s guardian was the brilliant, high-profile, womanizing scriptwriter Theodore Howell.

  She crossed her arms under her breasts, bringing his gaze to linger on her chest. “May I make a suggestion, Mr. Howell?”

  Theo dropped his hand. “What?”

  “Take good care of your sister. She’s too young to be in so much pain.”

  “I had her in therapy,” he countered, not caring if he sounded defensive.

  Hope lifted an eyebrow. “Had?”

  “She wouldn’t stay.”

  “She’s only thirteen, and at that age she should not be allowed to make her own decisions on her emotional well-being. She’s the child and you’re the adult. I suggest you act like one.”