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
Now she was looking at Peyton again. She sat up in bed and said, “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry.” He put his arms around her and held her tight. “I just didn’t see another stroke coming, honey. I wish I could’ve prepared you—but I wasn’t ready myself.”
Aunt Gert, who had been sitting silently while his mother poured out her grief, finally spoke—but in a quiet voice, not her usual commanding one. “Peyton, let’s give your mother this room till we figure out what’s what. Everybody’s way too tired for any o’ that business right now. You like the porch best anyway, so that’s all settled. Katie, are you hungry at all?”
Peyton’s mother grimaced, as if the thought of food might do her in right now.
“Alright, then. Tomorrow morning we can figure out what happens next, but for right now I think sleep is best. Or at least rest. I doubt any of us will sleep much tonight.”
Peyton kissed his mother on the cheek, then walked silently out to the sleeping porch, feeling stunned, numb, and a little nauseated. He lay down on one of the beds, thankful for the cool pillowcase against his face and the breeze coming off the river. It wasn’t possible, was it—that his dad could be gone from this earth? Even when he was drinking, at least he was here. Peyton could look at him in the flesh and still see the father he had been before the war. But never again.
“You didn’t take time to pack, if I know you,” Aunt Gert said. “Not to worry. I still maintain your special drawer.”
Kate mustered a weak smile. “When Marshall would take Peyton to UGA for the weekend and I’d come down here, you used to take me shopping every time, but you wouldn’t let me wear my new clothes till the next trip.”
“My way of keepin’ you comin’ back,” Aunt Gert said, handing her a nightgown from the drawer and sitting down next to her on the bed. They put their arms around each other.
“What on earth am I going to do?” Kate asked.
“Nothing tonight, Katie. Nothing tonight.”
seventeen
On a cloudless May morning, Peyton steered the Madame Queen through the pass and into the Atlantic, bound for Anastasia Island. The morning sun threw its golden light onto blue-gray water as a warm breeze blew out of the south. It might rain tonight.
The boat glided past the public beach, where cars and pickups parked right on the sand and a jubilant crowd of locals and vacationing families spread their blankets and set up their volleyball nets. But there was nothing jubilant about the Madame Queen this morning. Her passengers were in mourning.
Peyton steered the boat to a now familiar inlet on Anastasia and secured it at the dock. Then he helped the women climb up. His mother was carrying an urn, delivered by messenger. The three of them left their shoes on the dock and made their way over the dunes. Gentle waves washed the shore at low tide.