Dora cast a dubious glance at her grandmother. She stood and looked out over the garden, her finger tapping against her lips as she considered the possibilities. It might be good for her to get her hands back in the soil again, she thought. To create something. She needed creativity in her life—what woman didn’t? It occurred to her that she’d let that important part of her life go.

“We’d have to come up with a plan, first,” Dora said.

Harper opened her laptop with alacrity. “Right.”

“It’s already midsummer, so we’ll only want plants that can withstand the lowcountry summer heat. I don’t know what the garden centers have left in stock. Offhand, sweetgrass would be nice, and they don’t flower till October, a profusion of pink fluffy heaven. It will look showy when you put the house on the market, Mamaw. Then there are hardy plants like gaillardia, lantana, verbena . . .”

“Slow down,” Harper said. “I’m typing them up.”

“And roses,” Mamaw added, getting swept up in the idea. “We must have a few roses.”

“Roses too,” Dora said with a dramatic sigh. “If that’s what you want. There are knockout roses now that can handle the heat. We’ll plant them just for you. Harper, when you research plants, remember to keep in mind zones. This is Sullivan’s Island, not the Hamptons.”

Harper snorted. “That much I figured out.”

Mamaw clapped her hands. “Oh, girls, this is a wonderful idea!”

The pounding ceased and a sudden peace descended.

“I’m heading inside in search of breakfast,” Dora said. “Or is it lunchtime? Whatever, my diet is all pretty much the same these days—vegetables and fruit. By the way, where is Lucille? I haven’t seen her pattering about in the kitchen.”

“She has a doctor’s appointment. She’ll be back soon,” Mamaw answered, picking up her book again.

Dora’s brow furrowed with concern. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

“Darlin’,” Mamaw said, “at our age, we go in for regular maintenance.”

Dora walked off to the kitchen. Before she left the porch, she looked back to see Harper bent over her laptop, her fingers tapping away. Harper was always typing. What was going on in that clever mind of hers? She’d discovered this morning how little she really knew about her. Digging around a bit might indeed be a good idea.

Florida

It was a hot and steamy July morning that made even a lowcountry girl sweat. The air-conditioning in the cottage rumbled noisily but did a poor job cooling the space. Carson’s alarm went off at seven. She’d blearily opened her eyes as the sunlight pierced through the drawn curtains, but Nate was already awake, playing his video game. She figured it gave him a measure of comfort in the strange place and she let him play until it was time to dress.

They spoke little as they fumbled through the morning routine. The dreaded shower was not mentioned and Nate dressed himself in his usual soft-fabric, elastic-waist clothing. Breakfast was touch and go in the hotel’s dining room. Nate scrutinized every option, laboriously deciding a blended fruit yogurt and a piece of white toast was acceptable. He was amused by the packaging of the tiny boxes of cereal and took one, though he ate little of the cereal. For Carson, coffee was enough and she drank it like a camel, storing caffeine in her body for whatever surprises the day held.

It was a short drive to the Dolphin Research Center, barely long enough for the air-conditioning to cool the car. Yet Nate was already anxious when they pulled into the parking lot beside the giant sculpture of a dolphin and a calf. Nate danced on the balls of his feet, tugging at her skirt to hurry her as she locked the car. They walked at a clip through the front entrance and the gift shop, past souvenirs and T-shirts that held no interest for Nate. He tapped his fingers by his mouth as she registered at the desk and received their passes. As soon as she opened the door to the park, Nate shot out and began running.

“Nate! Wait!” she called out, and took off after him on the winding walkway past cages of exotic birds calling hello, a water park, and a few quaint cottages. She turned the corner to see Nate standing frozen, arms out stiffly in an arrested posture. Before him a large lagoon spread out along the glistening Gulf of Mexico.

“Why did you run off?” she asked, catching up to his side.

Nate didn’t respond. He remained motionless, staring in disbelief and wonder at the lagoon. Only his fingers moved, and they trembled.

“Are you okay?” she asked, suddenly concerned that he was on the verge of a meltdown.

Then she heard the high-pitched whistle. To her ears it was a concerto of welcome that she translated in her heart. In the front of the lagoon she saw five dolphins clustered along the walkway, watching the passersby and waiting. Returning her gaze to Nate, she understood immediately why he’d balked.

“Do you see all the dolphins, Nate? Isn’t it wonderful?”

“I can’t go near them.”

“Yes, of course you can. That’s why we’re here.”

“No. Blake said we are not supposed to go near the dolphins.”

“Blake was talking about the wild dolphins. The dolphins in the Cove. These dolphins live in this lagoon. It’s their home. It’s okay to visit them, Nate.”

“I . . . I don’t want to hurt them,” he said in a trembling voice.

Her heart nearly broke at hearing this. She’d known that he was deeply disturbed by Delphine’s accident at the dock. But she’d never understood how much blame he’d assumed for his part in it. She could hear in his voice that he’d taken on all the blame, and that was far too big a burden for these young shoulders to bear.

She knelt next to him and spoke gently. “Nate, what happened to Delphine was an accident. It was my fault for bringing her to the dock in the first place. But she’s doing better. She’s going to be okay. You’ll see for yourself when I take you to see her. These dolphins are healthy. They’re used to people visiting them. Here, it’s okay for us to swim with them. We can get close to them. That’s why I brought you here. So you can understand the difference between dolphins that live in a facility like this one and dolphins in the wild. Okay?”

He brought his fingers to his mouth.

“Listen! They’re whistling for you. They want you to come over. Let’s get closer, okay?”