Beach House Reunion (Beach House #5)(10)

“But why?” Emmi asked. “You’d wanted this for so long. It was a gift.”

“I wasn’t sure if I was up to the task.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” asked Emmi, her voice gentled.

“I couldn’t. I didn’t want to call anyone. This decision I had to make alone.”

“I guess I can see that,” Emmi said softly.

“I had a lot to think about. Was I too old? What would I do about my job? Could I afford it? Did I want to be a mother at my age? When Brett died, that dream died with him. I was trying hard . . . so hard . . . to move on. To make a new life for myself.”

Emmi reached out to place her hand on Cara’s arm in unspoken understanding.

“Then one night I had this dream. It was so real, like watching a scene in a movie, only I was in it. Mama, too. I could smell her perfume.” She looked at Emmi and Flo to gauge their reaction. The two women had leaned forward, listening intently. “It was during the hurricane, that last summer with Mama.”

“Ah, yes,” Flo said in a breath of understanding.

“The tidal surge had pushed into the house, and the water was rising foot by foot. I’ll never forget walking through the blood-warm water in the middle of the night, worrying about snakes or God knew what else. We were sitting in the dusty, steamy attic space, holding on to each other while the wind screamed and tore at the roof overhead and the inky waters rose higher in the house.”

Cara shivered in memory.

“But despite the storm’s fury, Mama was as calm as the eye of the hurricane.” Cara could feel again her mother’s arms around her. “I heard her voice as clear as a bell in my dream. She told me the same thing she did that night. She spoke in that same raspy voice. Remember that?”

“Of course,” said Emmi.

“It was from all the coughing,” added Flo.

Emmi prodded, “So what did she say?”

Cara wiped her eyes, remembering. “I’m sorry. I’m just tired.”

Emmi reached for her hand. “We miss her too.”

“That night I asked Mama,” Cara continued, “?‘How will I find my happiness? How will I know?’ Mama cupped my face and smiled. I swear, in my dream I felt the force of that smile enter my soul like a beam of light. It gave me strength, filled me with faith. ‘You’ll know, my precious,’ she told me. ‘One day you’ll look up and see it—and just know.’?”

She looked at Flo and Emmi, silent and thoughtful.

“When I awoke the following morning, I was filled with a sense of peace. Like a storm passing, my mind was clear. Later that day I met Hope for the first time. It might sound strange, but it felt predestined. I looked at her and I just knew she was mine.”

“Oh, Cara . . .” Emmi said.

“And I knew I had to come home. I want to raise Hope here, at the beach house where I’ve been happy and where I hope she will be too. Here, with you.” She squeezed Emmi’s hand. “And you.” She looked over to Flo and met the older woman’s blue gaze. “And Toy and Ethan, Heather and Bo, Palmer and Julia, Linnea, Cooper. You’re my family. I need you. And so does Hope.”

“It takes a village,” Flo said in summary.

“We’re here. Right next door. And our door’s always open.”

Cara nodded, taking a resolute breath. “I know.”

“By the way, did you name her Hope?” asked Emmi. “Because it’s kind of perfect.”

Cara shook her head and looked at Hope, her dark brown eyes never wavering from Cara’s. She felt the love for her child pumping through her veins. “Elena named her Esperanza. ‘Hope’ in English.”

Emmi smiled. “Like I said. Perfect.”



Chapter Three



Loggerheads have gorgeous reddish-brown carapaces and get their name from their massive heads and strong jaws that can crack hard-shelled creatures like conch, crab, clams, mussels, and sea urchins.

IT WAS STRANGE living back under her parents’ roof. For the last four years, Linnea had lived an independent life. She liked being able to do what she wanted, when she wanted. That freedom had been hard-won from her hovering parents, and she wasn’t willing to relinquish it.

Although, she thought with a glance around her room, it is a beautiful prison. Linnea was lying on her back, legs crossed, on her four-poster rice bed. Their house on Tradd Street was a historic gem. Her grandmother, Lovie, had restored it from near ruin back in the 1960s when she and her grandfather, Stratton, bought it. Lovie had returned the great house to its original state of elegance. She’d expanded the gardens, too, and to this day, the house was on the city’s garden tour schedule. When Linnea’s father inherited the house from his parents, her mother had upheld Lovie’s standards. Julia truly loved the house and had not only maintained it but also updated it with impeccable taste befitting the treasured family antiques. Her daddy was always complaining about the cost, but Linnea knew he was proud of the family home.

Linnea’s room had once been her aunt Cara’s. Her mother had redecorated it with gorgeous wallpaper covered with creamy white magnolias. She also had her own bathroom with vintage black-and-white linoleum that she’d begged her mother to keep. Cooper slept in his father’s childhood room down the long hallway with a guest room in between—which suited her just fine. The house was divided into “the upstairs” and “the downstairs.” Though never spoken, it was understood that the upstairs was spared her parents’ purview, since their master suite was on the main floor.