“Flying off and leaving me alone!”

“I know that. But it don’t change things, does it? You’ve got your plans, and now I’ve got mine.”

Mamaw brought her trembling hand to her eyes. “Lucille . . .”

“I’m not afraid to go,” Lucille said in a peaceful tone. “Seeing those manacles made it right clear in my mind. We’re all shackled to this life for the duration. We carry our load. Looking back, I’ve lived a good life. I’ve no regrets. Way I see it, it’s my time to cross the water. I like to think I’ll face the crossing with the same courage of my ancestors.” She looked up and smiled. “I’m gonna be set free.”

Mamaw tightened her lips.

“I’m only afraid of one thing,” Lucille said in a soft voice, looking at the bag of medicine in her lap.

“What’s that?”

Lucille lifted the bag. “The pain. They give me all these pills. But they’re not working so good no more. The cancer’s taken a turn. The time for all this hospital rigmarole is done.” She shook her head resolutely. “I don’t want no treatments. I know that. But . . . I don’t want to face this alone.”

Mamaw looked into Lucille’s dark, watery eyes. They bulged slightly, unblinking against a chalky face. Mamaw saw a ghostly image of what was coming. She grasped Lucille’s hand and held it tight. “I’ll be right here, sitting by your side all the way. You won’t be alone.”

Lucille’s lips quivered and she held tight to Mamaw’s hand. “That’s all I needed to know.”

Chapter Nineteen

Carson crossed the Ben Sawyer Bridge over the Intracoastal Waterway as dusk settled over the lowcountry. The water shimmered in dusky twilight pinks, and bordering the banks, thick rows of palms formed dark shadows.

She turned off the air-conditioning, rolled down the windows, and let the sultry air flow into the stale car. She breathed deep the scents of mud and salt, raking her hand through her hair, loosening the elastic, and letting her hair catch the wind. She was nearing home.

When she’d arrived at Sea Breeze the previous May without a job or a place to live, she’d thought that she’d hit rock bottom. She’d been penniless and adrift. In retrospect, compared to how she felt now, that seemed like a cakewalk.

During the long trip home from the Keys, Nate had mostly slept, exhausted from his busy week, and she had plenty of time to think about the new life growing inside of her. She vacillated between benign curiosity, idly tapping her belly like a cat playing with a bug, and abject terror of an alien life growing inside of her. She had to first decide whether to tell Blake. Part of her wanted to make her decisions without involving him. It wasn’t his body, after all.

Despite her independence, however, it felt selfish, even wrong, not to tell him. Blake wasn’t a one-night stand. He was someone she had a relationship with, someone she cared deeply for. Someone she might even love. The father of this unborn child. Didn’t he have the right to know?

She’d always been self-reliant. She’d spent most of her youth taking care of her father; she’d been more a maid than a daughter. When she turned eighteen she’d left to live alone, existing hand to mouth most of the time. She was not accustomed even to accepting help, let alone asking for it.

Carson ran her hand through her hair, weary and bleary-eyed. She’d been going over and over this issue in her head for twelve hours and was no closer to a decision. All she knew for certain was that she was exhausted and thirsty, and needed to pee. And that this fetus inside of her felt like an uninvited guest.

She glanced in the rearview mirror at the young boy sleeping in the backseat, strapped in by his seat belt. His head hung loosely to the side and his mouth was open; he was snoring gently. Her heart pinged with affection as tears filled her eyes. She loved that little boy and knew he loved her, in his own way. In retrospect, she had truly enjoyed being with Nate, taking care of him, watching him mature. Would she have these feelings for her own child? Could she be a good mother?

Glancing at the road, Carson saw she was nearing the turnoff for Sea Breeze. Her hands clenched the wheel and her heart rate shot up as her base instincts reared. All she wanted to do was to drop off Nate, then put the pedal to the metal and roar out of the driveway. To keep on driving. To run far, far away.

The following evening, Carson was sitting at the wood table in Blake’s apartment staring at a plate of shrimp and grits. It was a hot and humid night heralding the oncoming storm, but he’d slaved over the stove to prepare the meal for her homecoming. Thunder rumbled and the ceiling fan over the table was causing the tapered candles to drip wax onto the tablecloth.

Across the table from her, Blake was looking anxiously at her face. Shrimp and grits was her favorite dish but she couldn’t eat. She’d managed a few bites of the grits but the rich, buttery sauce was too much for her. Just the smell of seafood made her feel sick. More than the smells, however, the news she had to share had her stomach tied in knots.

Hobbs lay patiently under the table, watching for the piece of shrimp she slid under the table into his waiting mouth.

“More water?” Blake asked, already lifting the pitcher.

“Yes, thank you.” Her mouth felt filled with unspoken words.

Carson quietly watched him pour, heard the ice clink as it fell into her glass. She knew she was being sullen and withdrawn. To make up for it, he was being exceedingly solicitous, tiptoeing around her.

He set down the pitcher and looked at her full plate. “Aren’t you hungry? You’ve hardly taken a bite.”

“No,” she said, slowly shaking her head. She felt bad for all his effort for naught. “I’m not feeling well.”

“Oh, baby, I’m sorry. You should’ve told me. You do look a little off.”

She snorted a short laugh. “Do I?”

“You still look great,” he hurried to add. “Beautiful. As always.”

Carson’s face was glistening with sweat, and she knew she was being testy. It wasn’t Blake’s fault she was pregnant . . . at least not entirely. She set her napkin on the table and pushed back a bit in her chair. Hobbs moved back with a dissatisfied grunt.

“Blake, I have something to tell you.”

Blake looked at her warily. “Okay.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Blake sat motionless, his eyes wide. After a moment he blinked, and she could see he was gathering his wits. “Are you sure?”