Contents ( 66)
- Cover
- Books by Valerie Fraser Luesse
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- Map of Florida
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Keep Reading for a Preview of Valerie Luesse’s Next Book!
- Prologue
- one
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Ads
- Back Cover
“I can’t do that right away because I can’t let them know we’re talking. But I’ll straighten it out as soon as I can.”
“Thanks, Judy. I owe you. Guess I better get goin’. You take care.”
“No, you take care. Heavens to Betsy, Peyton, I’m in your corner, but your luck needs to change. You and Lisa are wearin’ me out. Call me if I can help you.”
Emotionally drained but determined to put Miami behind him physically, at least, Peyton mounted his bike and returned to the highway that would take him to his last stop on the mainland—Homestead.
thirty-five
Kate took the Madame Queen up the San Sebastian to a tiny, tucked-away cove surrounded by palms and mangroves, then dropped anchor right in the center of it. Spreading her quilt on the mahogany-decked bow of the boat, she lay down and let the river gently rock her.
In the early morning hours, the air was still cool, the sky a soft, hazy blue-gray not yet splashed with sunshine. Kate wasn’t in the mood for sun. Part of her wished it would rain and rain from morning to night—rain so much that she could climb into the Madame and let the floodwaters carry her out to sea.
It was a selfish wish, one she kept to herself, though she imagined Aunt Gert knew. Kate wondered how much longer her aunt would indulge her sorrow and solitude. Eventually, Aunt Gert would say, “Enough, Katie—now get on with it,” but so far, she had exercised remarkable restraint.
With the exception of waves breaking on the shore, there was no more peaceful sound on earth than water lapping against a boat. Marshall always loved it. On their honeymoon, he had rented a spare little cottage with gingerbread porch bannisters wrapping all the way around it. The house sat high on stilts that lifted it into the palms, and it had a dock and a small sailboat. They took the boat out almost every day. Marshall was born to be on the water. He probably would have been happier as a fisherman than a lawyer.
Kate and Marshall had shared a hammock on the porch one stormy afternoon, looking out at nothing but palm fronds swaying in the wind and turquoise water rippling under the pelting rain. The air smelled of citrus and sea salt. Her face nestled perfectly into Marshall’s warm shoulder as the hammock swayed with the rhythm of the wind and the rumble of thunder.
Now Kate could hear the flapping of wings above and opened her eyes to see pelicans flying down the river. They looked like feathered airplanes. Maybe Marshall should’ve enlisted in the Army Air Force, which he’d thought about, instead of waiting to be drafted as his father had insisted. She knew George Cabot meant well. He was hoping against hope that the war would end before the Army came for his eldest son, who was then in his thirties. The other two had let their father arrange cushy appointments stateside, but Marshall would never do that. He said it wasn’t fair to those lacking his means. And so he took his chances on the draft—a gamble that he lost.