Reunion Beach, Elin Hilderbrand [novel books to read txt] 📗

a long life. But a child . . . there was no getting past that. Elinor, having lost a child, understood and never left Maeve’s side.

“You know,” Elinor said in an upbeat tone, striving for a change of mood, “I got a birthday card for Kristina every year of her life.”

“You’re kidding?” Maeve tilted her head, perplexed. “But, you didn’t know where to send them.”

“No.” She pointed to a sweetgrass basket on the coffee table. It was filled with envelopes. “There they are. I didn’t have her name, so I couldn’t address them.” She smiled. “Now I have a name to add.”

Maeve’s expression softened. “You’re giving them all to her today.”

“It’s one of my surprises.” She glanced at the pile of sealed envelopes. “I wrote something to her each year. I can’t remember all that I said. I hope it’s not too maudlin.”

“Confession time,” Maeve said, raising her palms. “I went to her Facebook page this morning and put a Happy Birthday notice up.”

Elinor was shocked. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “But . . . she doesn’t know who you are.”

“I figured I’d explain all today.” Then, seeing Elinor’s face she blurted, “Why? Was that wrong? I just wanted to let her know how excited we all were.”

“No, of course not,” Elinor said in a rush. “She has to be happy about a birthday greeting, right?” She chewed her lips. At least Elinor hoped she would be. This was all still so new. She wasn’t sure what did or didn’t cross the line into too much.

Her phone pinged. She met Maeve’s eyes, startled, then rushed to her phone on the table.

“It says she’s on Isle of Palms,” Elinor announced. She felt her heart rate accelerate. “She’ll be here any moment.” Elinor looked out the front window and brought her fingers to her lips, tapping them. “I told her to park in my driveway.” She moved her arms to wrap around herself, suddenly awash in self-doubt. “Was it silly of me to suggest we meet on the beach? Maybe I should text her to come to the front door. I should just stay here.”

Maeve rallied, nudging her friend toward the door. “Stick to the plan. It’s showtime. Just go!”

* * *

DAUGHTER

Kristina left the mainland via a long stretch of road called The Connector. It carried her over vast acres of cord grass, dark green and vibrant. The marsh spread out around her like a velvety carpet, dotted here and there with white egrets standing in exposed mud. The tide must be going out, she thought, and wondered what it might be like to live in an area dictated by the tides.

The Connector arched over a long ribbon of water she knew was the Intracoastal Waterway. A motorboat was racing below, sending a long stream of wake behind it. Then, without warning, there was the Atlantic Ocean. Her breath caught in surprise at seeing the ocean looming before her, so broad and majestic, cloaked in a brilliant blue hue that reflected the cloudless sky. The sight filled her with hope.

She drove on, leaving The Connector and crossing onto Isle of Palms. The first thing she spotted was the water tower. It stood starkly against the horizon, like an omen.

“I’m here, Joe,” she said aloud, feeling sure she was heard. “I couldn’t have made it without you.”

She felt his presence, as she often did throughout the years. Joe had given her a start with his gift of money, true. However, it was as though he’d always been by her side, holding her hand, each step of the journey, ever since that first step leaving the hospital after his death.

At the stoplight, she reached for her phone and texted Elinor that she’d arrived on the island. The thought struck that she’d see her mother soon. In minutes. The light changed and she pressed the gas, moving forward across Palm Boulevard straight toward the sea. When she turned right onto Ocean Boulevard, her stomach tightened, and her fingers began to dance in anticipation on the wheel. This was really happening. There was no turning back now.

She craned her neck from side to side, gaping at the mansions that bordered Ocean Boulevard. Peppered here and there on across the street were quaint cottages. Elinor’s house would be one of those. Oddly, that pleased her. It felt less daunting to go to a more normal-size house than some grand mansion. Still, she was relieved Elinor had suggested that they meet on the beach. She’d explained why on their phone call.

“The beach has always been my sanctuary. My church. Most mornings I stand at the shoreline and say a prayer for your health, your happiness. A prayer that someday I would meet you. And at last, my prayer has been answered. So it seems only fitting that we meet in God’s church, don’t you think?”

At last Kristina found Elinor’s address. She was here. She swallowed hard and pulled into the driveway beside a tidy white beach cottage with a large, covered porch fronted by giant hydrangeas. A small blue flag hung over the entrance with wording in sunshine yellow: Welcome Kristina.

Stepping out from the car, she felt as though someone was watching her. She glanced up at the row of front windows. Was her mother in the house? Should she knock on the door first? She stood on rubbery legs that still thrummed with the five-hour journey. Turning her head, she spied a bit of blue water between the houses.

The ocean called her home. She closed the car door, adjusted her purse on her shoulder, and began to walk toward the designated Fifth Avenue beach path. Her flat heels dug into the soft sand as she made her way in the shade of two large houses. The narrow path led over the dunes, cloaked with small yellow flowers and tall, drooping sea oats. She paused at the top, feeling the salty breeze of the sea caress her cheeks. Elinor was right, she thought. Being by the water had a way of calming the