Left Turn at Paradise Read online

  “Oh, I did that all on my own. I was so afraid that I’d never live up to your legacy and expectations that I did everything I could to live down to them.”

  Hearing those words hurt more than Barbara could have imagined. How had she ever let things get so bad? “If I’d shown more care, you never would have felt that way,” Barbara said. “You were smart and beautiful. You didn’t need to live up to anyone’s expectations. I was too harsh.”

  “If you were harsh, it was because I provoked you at every turn.”

  “Because it was the only way you knew to get my attention. You tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen. I was so wrapped up in how your actions affected me. I never stopped to think how what I did affected you. I failed to see you.”

  “I made sure people only saw what I wanted them to see.”

  The front door swung open with a squeak, and Grace emerged with another glass of lemonade. “I see you two are busy throwing yourselves on your swords,” she said. “That’s best accomplished while drinking something cool, tart, and sweet.”

  “I thought tea cured everything,” Elizabeth said.

  “Normally, yes, but we’re dealing with an overabundance of bitterness and guilt here.” Elizabeth tried to grasp the pitcher, but Grace slapped her niece’s hand away. “I pour, you drink. You don’t look like you could lift a feather.”

  “I’m a lot stronger than I look.”

  Grace peered over the pitcher. “I suppose you are at that. Beating cancer, facing your mother—“

  Barbara sputtered. “Excuse me.”

  “We all know how intimidating you can be, Barbara.”

  “I just had a heart attack. How intimidating can I be when I can barely make it to the porch swing and back?” she asked, her words dripping with sarcasm.

  “You are formidable no matter what your health,” Elizabeth said.

  “I’ve had to be.”

  “Me too. I had to be strong and smart and accomplished so I could live up to your name. I just never knew how to do that. I wasn’t smart, and I never accomplished much beyond turning a guy’s head or earning a few wolf whistles in construction zones.”

  Well, just when she thought her sense of guilt couldn’t get any worse. “Did I make you feel that way?”

  Elizabeth paused, her lips tightening. “Mostly I made myself feel that way.”

  Grace picked up her own glass and then went back inside. “You girls go easy on each other,” she said before the door banged shut.

  Barbara turned back to her daughter. “I only wanted you to reach your potential,” she said. “You had so much promise.”

  “Maybe I didn’t want to be loved because I had promise,” Elizabeth said on a whispery sigh.

  Barbara leaned her head against the chain of the swing. “How can two people find so many ways to destroy one another?”

  “Mom, I told you, I destroyed myself. And I destroyed any chance of a relationship with my daughter when I left her on your doorstep.”

  Barbara straightened at the mention of Layla. “Why did you leave her? You could have knocked. Can you imagine my shock when I opened the door and found a baby strapped into a car seat?”

  “I didn’t know if I could trust you,” Elizabeth said, gazing into her lemonade.

  Barbara winced. How could she have gone down such a terrible path? To make her daughter feel she had no one to count on? No one who believed in her?

  “I was a terrible mother.”

  Elizabeth jerked as if she’d been slapped. She reached for her mother’s hand. “No. You weren’t terrible. You can’t think that. That’s not why I came back here.” She stood and started pacing, her feet setting an anxious rhythm across the wooden slats. “This isn’t going the way I thought it would. I thought I’d be doing all the groveling. I’d beg your forgiveness, and we’d cry, and it would be like a greeting card commercial. I didn’t expect—”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t expect to be asked to forgive you.”

  “Is that the problem? You can’t forgive me?”

  “Mom, I forgave you a long time ago. I knew deep down you wanted what was best for me, but I didn’t think I deserved anything after what I’d done. I punished myself for years. I fulfilled every nightmare you ever imagined about me just to prove you were wrong. But you weren’t wrong. I wasn’t fit to raise a child or be a wife or a mother.”

  “If I’d helped instead of judged perhaps you would have been.”

  Elizabeth stared and her head shook back and forth slowly. “Where is my mother, and what have you done with her?”

  Barbara rested her hand against her daughter’s cheek. “I’ve had thirty years to regret how I acted. I’ve lain awake every night since, hoping I’d get a chance to make it right.”

  “But you did make it right,” Elizabeth said. “Through Layla. She’s everything you always wanted me to be and more.”

  “She was my chance to right the wrongs I’d done.”

  Elizabeth stopped her pacing and leaned against the railing. “I didn’t tell Layla… everything.”

  Barbara frowned. “What?”

  “I only told her that we fought and that I ran to Aunt Grace’s.”

  “She doesn’t know?”

  “I tried at first, but she’s so protective of you. She wouldn’t hear one word against you. Besides, the last thing I want to do is damage your relationship with her. You’re all she’s ever known, and I couldn’t live with myself if I destroyed what you two have. I don’t think she could take it.”

  Barbara experienced a simultaneous wave of guilt…and pride. Guilt that Elizabeth had felt the need to jeopardize her best chance at forging a relationship with her daughter by withholding part of the truth. And pride that she wanted to spare Layla the anguish of knowing it.

  “You sound just like a mother,” Barbara said.

  “Maybe…finally. I only hope you can teach me how to reach the child I threw away.”

  “I’ll do everything I can.”

  Elizabeth took a deep, steadying breath. “Good, because I need your help. There’s something else I haven’t told Layla, and I’m not sure how to do it without her hating me.”

  Barbara tensed. “What else is there?”

  “It’s the other reason I’ve come home.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  July 4th was heralded by the arrival of a billion tiny flags, which appeared overnight on the front lawns of every house in town. Some legends had elves building shoes overnight. Shellwater Key had flag fairies leaving red, white, and blue calling cards behind.

  Mother Nature left her mark on the day as well, in the form of heat wrapped up in a wet blanket. When Layla stepped outside, the force of the suffocating humidity about knocked her over. Even in a sundress, she felt on the verge of melting like a wax candle. She retreated back to the air-conditioned comfort of the house.

  “You know, there’s probably a patriotic show on TV,” she said, as she walked into the kitchen. “We could watch that and stay cool.”

  “And miss the parade?” Aunt Grace asked in horror, as if Layla had suggested high treason. “What about the picnic and the concert in the park tonight?”

  “Gran gets to stay here.”

  “I’m an invalid,” came Gran’s dry response from the table.

  “I hate leaving you alone,” Layla said.

  Gran glanced down at the table. “I won’t be alone.”

  As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Aunt Grace jumped like a racehorse at the starting gate of the Kentucky Derby and took off toward the front of the house.

  Layla looked at Gran. “What’s she up to?”

  Gran didn’t answer, and a moment later Aunt Grace returned…with Beth. She paused uncertainly in the doorway as if waiting for permission to come in. Layla didn’t know why Beth would hesitate. She’d already been granted entry, courtesy of Aunt Grace. When Layla had come home yesterday she’d learned that her great-aunt had staged a reunion.

  At first, La
yla had been furious…until she talked to her grandmother and saw the truth. Gran’s eyes had regained their sparkle. Her mouth had lost the strained, pinched quality. She smiled all the time, and even moved with greater ease. Layla couldn’t find it in herself to wish that away.

  Aunt Grace beamed as she surveyed her family members. “Look who’s here to sit with you, Barbara!”

  “Elizabeth…” Gran smiled and started to get to her feet.

  “Don’t get up, Mom,” Beth said, with enough urgency in her tone that Layla couldn’t miss the genuine concern. Beth rushed over and put a hand on Gran’s shoulder as if to hold her in the seat. “You stay right there,” she said, kissing Gran’s cheek.

  Aunt Grace folded her arms and nodded her head in satisfaction. She quirked a brow in Layla’s direction. “Warms the heart to see them together, doesn’t it?”

  Layla knew she was being challenged – dared if one wanted to get technical – to protest. She also knew she couldn’t.

  Aunt Grace beamed and clapped her hands. “Well, looks like we have ourselves a babysitter for this morning.” She tugged on Layla’s arm. “Come on, dear. We need to stake our place on the parade route before all the good spots are taken.”

  The good citizens of Shellwater Key did enjoy their seasonal parties. Every season had its moment of revelry, and summer belonged to July 4th. Layla drove to the parking lot of the high school. From there she and Aunt Grace joined the mass migration of townsfolk walking the few short blocks to the parade route along The Strip. Throngs of people – dads with kids on their shoulders, moms pushing strollers, and teenagers trying to look bored – formed their own disorganized parade.

  The Strip had already begun to fill, but Aunt Grace managed to finagle their way to the perfect spot up front. Layla couldn’t help but be impressed. Being seventy-eight – and having the ability to appear helpless and fragile – seemed to work like a charm in encouraging other bystanders to give way.

  “I don’t remember you liking the parade this much, Aunt Grace,” Layla said.

  She turned to look at Layla in astonishment. “What’s not to like?”

  Layla didn’t have time to reply because trumpets announced the start of the festivities. Bystanders craned their necks to see their first glimpse. Soon, the high school marching band came into view, with the Drum Major leading the way. Majorettes flinging batons in the air came next, along with a dozen cheerleaders in tiny blue skirts and sporting enough hairspray to split the ozone. The Drum Major blew his whistle in sequence, and the band kicked in with America the Beautiful.

  Following the band came a convertible carrying the Mayor and his family, including Tammy-Lynn who bestowed a Queen-like smile upon her throngs of admirers. Next in line was a battalion of police officers on horseback. Then Rotary Club members throwing out handfuls of candy, the American Legion, a group of clowns, a float carrying this year’s Miss Sunrise winner, a group of women in Betsy Ross costumes, a fife & drum corps dressed in American Revolutionary garb, and finally, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Abraham Lincoln on a float designed to look like the Declaration of Independence.

  Layla admitted she’d grown cynical over the years. Corny, small-town celebrations were for hicks and old-timers. Shellwater Key’s 4th of July parade flashed its hokeyness with proud abandon. But as she watched people waving their tiny flags and singing along to patriotic tunes, her bruised heart lifted.

  Then a group of armed services members passed. The men and women ranged in age from kids who barely looked old enough to shave, to stooped, elderly men sporting balding heads. And there in the middle of the group was Old Man Conklin.

  “Larry Conklin was at Pearl Harbor,” Aunt Grace said.

  Larry had managed to fit into his old naval uniform. He marched with his shoulders back and head held high. Tears burned Layla’s eyes as she watched him. All of them. Last came a young man in a wheelchair. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-two. A long scar marked one side of his face, running from the bottom of his cheek up to his hairline, and his left arm and leg were in casts. A man in dress slacks and a Marine’s T-shirt pushed the young man’s wheelchair.

  Aunt Grace reached for Layla’s hand. “Charlie Alden,” she said. “Wounded in Afghanistan. And that’s his old football coach pushing the wheelchair. Charlie’s dad died when he was fourteen.”

  Layla drew in an anguished breath of sympathy and concern. A knot gripped her stomach as she watched Charlie wave and smile, despite his injuries.

  She glanced down at her aunt. “Thanks for making me come with you. I needed this.”

  Aunt Grace squeezed Layla’s hand. “We all do, occasionally.”

  The parade ended, and the crowd began to disperse. Layla and Aunt Grace headed home to rest and cool off before the picnic and concert in the park that night. Going home meant Layla had to face her mother again. When Layla and Aunt Grace walked into the house it was to the sound of laughter emanating from Gran’s temporary bedroom.

  “He looks so sweet,” Layla heard her grandmother say.

  “Mostly when he’s sleeping,” Beth answered with a gurgle of laughter.

  They rounded the corner and found Gran and Beth sitting on the bed looking at a photo album. Gran started. “Oh, you’re back! How was the parade?”

  “It was wonderful,” Aunt Grace said. “I always get teary-eyed when the veterans march.”

  “Larry Conklin still in charge?” Gran asked.

  Aunt Grace chuckled. “Of course.”

  “What are you guys looking at?” Layla asked, indicating the album.

  “Just some old pictures,” Elizabeth said, snapping the book shut. “Does Shellwater Key still hold the picnic in the park?”

  Layla couldn’t help but feel her mother had just thrown up a smokescreen, but Aunt Grace took the bait. “They do,” she said. “I was about to get the food ready. Layla, will you help me?”

  “Sure, Aunt Grace,” Layla said, eager for an excuse to get out of the room.

  “I think I’ll join you tonight,” Gran said suddenly, though Layla had the impression her grandmother hadn’t just made the decision. “And Elizabeth is coming with us.”

  Everyone stilled, including Beth. “Mom, I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said.

  “Think of your condition, Barbara,” Aunt Grace chimed in. “You don’t want to excite yourself and have a relapse.”

  “My heart is fine,” Gran insisted. “We can’t keep Elizabeth’s return a secret forever. At least this way, we’re in control.”

  “This isn’t crisis management, Gran.”

  Gran frowned. “In Shellwater Key it is, and I say we have to present a united front. Let everyone know that Elizabeth has reformed her life, and that we’re overjoyed to have her back.”

  “Sounds like talking points,” Layla muttered, not liking the situation at all.

  “If need be,” Gran said. “If we stand together and show everyone that things are fine, pretty soon the talk will die down.”

  “Unless Beth is hiding some other secrets,” Layla said. She looked at her mother. “You don’t have any estranged husbands to contend with, do you?”

  Beth froze, and her cheeks went pale. “I… no.”

  Gran sent Layla a narrow-eyed glare, and Layla suddenly remembered why generations of medical residents lived in fear of Dr. Barbara McCarthy.

  “Sorry,” Layla muttered.

  Gran nodded once. “So, it’s settled. We’ll go to the picnic together as a family, and we will smile and have a good time.”

  “I think it’s a wonderful plan,” Aunt Grace said. “And I dare anyone to say something about our Elizabeth.”

  Beth shook her head. “I think you’re all crazy, but okay. Let’s rip off the bandage.”

  “Layla?’ Gran said.

  Layla felt the force of three pairs of eyes staring her down. “Do I have a choice?”

  Gran smiled. “You always have a choice.”

  At sunset, Layla and her family h
eaded for Gulfview Park, which marked the southern end of The Strip. Situated on a several acres of land overlooking The Gulf of Mexico, the park had always seemed like a peaceful oasis. Green as far as the eye could see, with lush foliage, trees, and towering royal palms that gave way to a magnificent vista of undulating blue sea.

  Usually, the park seemed restful, but tonight each patch of grass was considered prime real estate as every family in town gathered for the evening’s festivities. As before, Aunt Grace somehow maneuvered them to a perfect spot underneath a tree near the bandstand.

  Layla spread out her great-aunt’s special patriotic quilt, which was embellished with red, white, and blue interlocking stars. Aunt Grace emptied the picnic basket and arranged all the food while Beth got Gran settled in a folding chair.

  It didn’t take long for folks to notice the extra person in the McCarthy clan. At first, no one seemed to recognize Barbara McCarthy’s wayward daughter. Then Old Man Conklin walked by. He was back to his usual golf shirt and green pants pulled halfway up to his armpits. He greeted Gran and Aunt Grace, nodded toward Layla, and then turned to her mother. His gaze almost passed over her, but then he stopped and did a double take.

  His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Knew I hadn’t dreamed you up.”

  Beth stepped forward. “How are you, Mr. Conklin?”

  “You broke your mother’s heart, you know,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “I do,” Beth said, in the same vein.

  He stared for another moment and then nodded as if satisfied. “It’s good that you’ve come home. High time your family had something to celebrate.”

  Beth blinked, and Layla was sure she saw her mother fighting off tears. “Thank you,” she said.

  Aunt Grace beamed at him. “Larry, join us for supper. I’ve made too much food as usual, and these two don’t eat enough to nourish a baby sparrow,” she said, tilting her head toward Gran and Beth.

  “Don’t mind if I do,” he said.

  Old Man Conklin unfolded his own chair and sat down. From there he proceeded to make the introductions to everyone who happened to drift by their quilt. He boldly, and loudly, announced that God had answered prayers in bringing Elizabeth McCarthy back to the bosom of her family. And since no one wanted to question The Almighty’s purposes, they had to be content with exchanging awkward hellos or variations of “Praise God”.