A small johnboat sat anchored along a mudflat with fishing rods already in the water.

“It’s a free country.” Devlin steered the boat to the opposite side of the creek so as not to cause a wake for the other fishermen. “Plenty to go around. We’ll just mosey on a little farther up the creek.”

Dora turned her head to view a gray-haired man and woman sitting side by side in the boat. Their backs were to Dora, but something about them was familiar. Dora turned her body to lean over the boat’s railing, squinting to get a better look.

“Oh, my word!” she exclaimed. “That’s Mamaw!”

“What?” Devlin slowed the engine to a growl, then moved to the side of the boat for a better look. “Well, I’ll be damned, it is. Who’s she with?”

“I don’t know.”

Nate exclaimed, “It’s Old Mr. Bellows.”

“Are you sure?” Dora squinted.

“Oh, yes.” Nate gave a confident nod. “They’re friends. I saw them talking at the dock.”

A small smile played at Dora’s lips. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Nate replied matter-of-factly.

As they drew nearer, Dora cupped her hands over her mouth and called out, “Hey, Mamaw! Ahoy there!”

Mamaw swung her head around, following the call. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp at recognizing them. Dora laughed at her grandmother’s startled expression and waved her arm in a wide arc, gleefully thinking, Aha, caught in the act! Nate and Devlin called out greetings as well. Mamaw waved back with a feeble gesture, obviously flustered. They were traveling farther away from the couple, but Dora could still see them sitting, shoulders touching.

“Mamaw, what are you up to?” Dora murmured to herself. She couldn’t wait until the card game that night.

Mamaw was well aware that she and Girard were sitting so close that their shoulders were touching. She’d not only allowed it, she enjoyed it. It had been a long time since her stomach had fluttered at the touch of a man. And it was harmless enough. They were two old acquaintances, even friends, fishing together on a summer morning. It was all perfectly innocent.

Then why did it feel like anything but when Dora had caught them together? It was downright disconcerting, she thought as her hands tightened on the rod.

Girard chuckled at her side, lost in his own thoughts.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, slightly annoyed.

“Oh, just feeling a bit like two teenagers caught sneaking out.”

Mamaw glanced at him, saw his amused expression, and couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s true,” she said ruefully. She’d wanted to keep this to herself. The outing was above suspicion, yet she knew the thoughts racing through her mind were far from dewy innocent.

She’d been remembering the crush she’d had on Girard Bellows some fifty years ago. She’d met Girard at a welcome party thrown for the Bellowses by their good friend Bitsy. Sullivan’s Island was a small community and, in those days, close-knit. Many of the families in their group had connections that spanned generations in Charleston. They’d grown up together, went to the same churches, their children and their children’s children went to the same schools. The Bellowses, however, were considered “from off” by the local families. This created a powerful curiosity factor that had the island gossips eager to learn more about them.

The party had been at Bitsy’s shore house. On this balmy night the katydids were singing. Cars were parked along the narrow streets for blocks and Bitsy had the cottage lit up. A group played soft jazz, and tables creaked under the weight of food. Marietta had stepped out onto the back porch to escape the smoke-filled rooms. She remembered the heavy scent of jasmine lingering in the air. The sun was setting and candles were flickering in the hurricane lamps like fireflies.

Across the porch a tall, lean man was standing in a cluster of men drinking scotch or bourbon and talking about guns or money or business. Although most of them were tan, his was darker—that of a man who spent time on the water. His blue eyes shone brilliantly against the ruddy color, and when he laughed, which he did freely, his teeth shone white. Bitsy had thought he was dreamy, like Cary Grant. And, she’d added meaningfully, his family was very old money. His wife, Eleanor, was exceedingly beautiful and well-bred, yet Marietta had always found her dull and even dim.

Marietta had walked up to the cluster of men. Bitsy’s husband, Bob, was in his cups and grandly introduced her as “our resident nature lover.” Girard had immediately turned an interested gaze upon her and began asking a series of questions, surprisingly well informed, on the local wildlife. His upper-crust New England accent fell sweet on her ears, though, she recalled, it had grated against Edward’s.

That initial conversation was the beginning of a longtime friendship. Though there might have been a slight undertone of flirtation to it, the only passion they’d shared concerned wildlife and the local landscape.

“Do you remember the first night we met?” she asked him.

Girard turned and smiled. His blue eyes, paler now with age, still had the ability to capture her attention and hold it. “I most certainly do. I remember thinking you were the most interesting woman I’d met that night.”

“Only that night?”

“The most interesting woman I’d met in my life.”

Marietta scoffed at that. He always was a charmer. Though it was his intelligence that had attracted her the most. He had eclectic tastes and she found his opinions challenging. Girard could discuss finance, science, art, and politics with equal ease and distinction.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason. I was just remembering how, even from the first, you and I could talk on and on and I’d lose track of time. Like right now. I have no idea whatsoever what time it is.” She laughed. “And I couldn’t care less.”

That first evening at Bitsy’s party they’d stood together on the porch and talked while the night darkened around them and the candles sputtered in the lamps. It was terribly rude not to mingle, but she despised idle gossip and was having such a good time talking about environmental issues with someone who cared.

“I remember being annoyed when your husband came to draw you away,” Girard said.

“Later, he admonished me for sparking gossip. We had quite a row about it.”