She walked in, leaving the door ajar, and crossed the room to my father. Like b.u.t.ter over hot toast, she slipped her arms around his waist, bringing her body close to his. He kissed her temple and said, "I only got as far as telling her I'd like for her to go."

I stepped away from the two of them and over to the bookcase where my father's priceless collection of first editions was displayed in alphabetical order, according to author. "You'd like me to go? But why? I haven't been to the house in years. Not since . . ." I couldn't finish it. Couldn't say it.

"Your mother died."

I nodded.

The kids had gone with their grandparents, but not me. There was too much of Mom there. Too many memories. Too many of her photographs.

The one thing Mom and I shared-that none of her other daughters were interested in-was photography. When she was a child, it had been the connection between her and her father, a professional photographer. The only thing they had in common, she told me. Mom made sure that was not the case with us.

When I was eight years old, she'd slipped a Kodak 110 in my Christmas stocking along with a package of cube-shaped flashbulbs. While the relationship between the camera and me was somewhat disastrous (I kept cutting off the very thing I was trying to photograph), Mom said I had "the eye for photography." By the time I was twelve, I was shooting with a basic .35mm, and by age fifteen I had a case full of lenses, filters, and a bulk loader for rolling my own film. While my friends partic.i.p.ated in a variety of sports, I stood on the sidelines and photographed them. I became the official photographer for any and all high school events, which made me feel satisfied, as though I'd partic.i.p.ated in them. Volunteering to photograph my senior prom allowed me to say no to any guy who asked me to be his date. Mom finally demanded that I at least allow my cousin-who was a year younger than me-to escort me because "no young lady should ever go to a dance unescorted."

It was their effort. Not to make sure I went to the prom with a date but that I continue to move forward after that past summer in Cedar Key.

And Steven.

"Dad," I said, breathless. "I'm just not sure I . . ."

Dad crossed his arms as Anise's arm fell from around his waist. She said, "I'll stall dinner."

She left the room.

"Tell me something, Boo." His voice was firm but kind. "What's keeping you from the beach house? You always loved it there when you were a kid."

I shook my head. "When I was a kid, yes. But really, Dad. I'm a grown woman now. What in the world would I do there all by myself, day in and day out? It's not like I'm a teenager killing time with Rosa or Heather."

Or Steven.

"Good point, but what do you plan to do in Glenmuir? What do you have planned for the long weeks the boys are with their father?"

"Well . . ." I said, pacing a few steps along the bookcase. "I thought I'd read."

"You can read in Cedar Key."

"And I thought I'd work on my lesson plans for next year."

"You can do that in Cedar Key too."

"Heather and I have talked about doing some girl things . . . you know, like manis and pedis and shopping trips."

My father raised a brow.

"Dad, why is it so important to you that I go to the coast?"

Dad looked at his feet and sighed. "Do you remember Eliana?"

"Of course I do." I smiled at the thought of the housekeeper and her raven-haired daughter. "Remember when Rosa and I pretended we were sisters as though there wasn't a difference to be found?"

Dad's eyes met mine. "There wasn't. I always taught you girls never to look down on anyone because of their station in life."

"And we haven't. Well, maybe not all of us . . ."

Dad grimaced. "Jayme-Leigh. If that girl weren't so smart and such a good doctor, I'd swear she wasn't mine." He chuckled as though only to himself.

I smiled at him. "So, back to Eliana."

"She pa.s.sed away recently."

"Oh, Dad. I didn't know . . ."

"Rosa called. Her mother still went to the property every week to clean it-did you know that?"

"No."

"I've paid her year-round whether we were there or not. A house has a way of getting dusty and moldy when its owner isn't around."

I forced a smile. "So then? Why do you want me to leave mine?"

"I need to hire someone else now. I want you to take care of it for me."

I blinked. "But you and Anise go for part of the summer. Why not do it then?"

"There are some things I need to take care of here before I can go."

"What kind of things?"

"Work related, Kimberly. Not for you to worry about."

"If they are work related, why not let Jayme-Leigh take care of them?"

He shook his head. "These are things I have to handle, Kim." He placed his hands on his hips. "Look, sweetheart. I need you to do this for me, okay?" He sighed. "I've always been able to rely on you, haven't I?"

"Of course but . . ." I put my fists on my hips. "This really has nothing to do with Eliana, does it? It has more to do with getting me to Cedar Key. Away from here."

"Let's face it, Boo. Remember last year when the boys spent part of their summer with Charlie? You were like a caged animal. You drove us all a little crazy and yourself even more."

That much was true.

"And it's only going to be worse this year," he said.

"And you think that by doing this little thing for you-finding a replacement for Eliana-I won't worry about my sons?"

Dad shook his head. "Oh no. You'll still worry, but . . ." He winked at me. "Have you forgotten the magic of Cedar Key?"

I took several deep breaths, thought about the question, and answered it honestly within my own heart before answering my father. "Yes, Dad. I have." I looked at my sandaled feet, wiggled my toes. "But I haven't forgotten that summer. Have you?"

"No, Boo. I haven't forgotten. But maybe it's time to build some new memories." When I didn't answer, he added, "If the house goes too long without someone to keep it up, no telling what it'll look like by the time Anise and I get there in July." He sighed for added drama.

"It won't be that bad." We stared at each other until my resolve broke. "Okay, Dad. I'll go to Cedar Key; I'll find a replacement for Eliana. But then I'm coming straight home."

Dad chuckled as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and steered me toward the door and dinner. "Promise me one thing, Boo."

"What's that?"

"That if you want to stay, you will."

I stopped long enough to kiss his cheek. "I promise, Dad. But I won't want to stay, so don't be disappointed."

Dad smiled. "We'll see. Like I said, there's magic along the marshes of Cedar Key. You just need to be reminded."

5.

On the way home I told the boys we'd spend the next day doing anything they wanted. I'd barely gotten the words out of my mouth before they yelled, "Wet 'n Wild!"

I groaned. "Wouldn't you guys rather stay home? Sleep late? Go to the pool and read a good book?"

"Oh, come on, Mom," Chase said from the backseat. "You know you love Wet 'n Wild. You love anything that has to do with water."

I smiled. "It's true."

I was reminded of my father's request that I go to Cedar Key, and for a moment, I thought of the marshes, the beach, the stretch of the Gulf. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad . . .

"All right. Wet 'n Wild it is. We'll get there when it opens and leave when it shuts down. How does that sound?"

Happiness rushed from the backseat.

I spent the next day splashing and laughing with my children. When the day was over and our bodies were thoroughly sun-kissed, we headed home. The sun had nearly set, slathering the gray at the end of the day in hues of pinks and blues. I thought again of Cedar Key and its spectacular sunsets. Of how residents and visitors gathered to watch nature's end-of-the-day show. Something deep within me-a feeling I'd long ago forgotten-stirred.

When we arrived home and I'd shut off the engine of the car, "Fun Mom" became "Just Mom."

"Okay, young men of mine. Upstairs to shower."

"We know, Mom," they both said.

"We're not two anymore, you know," Chase said.

My sons. When did they think they'd grown up? "Uh-huh. Okay, then. Who's up for popcorn and a movie after your showers?"

Chase and Cody scampered toward the back door, each one carrying part of our day's gear. I gathered what was left and followed them. Max met me at the top of the stairs, tail wagging, eyes expectant. I reached down to pet him. "Who left you in the house?" I asked as though he could answer. I looked toward the boys' rooms and called out, "Whoever is not in the shower, Max needs to go outside." Max immediately bounded down the stairs to wait for his savior.

Upstairs in my room I started the shower. The phone rang as I peeled my bathing suit from the stink of my skin. I was content to ignore it, but a minute or so later I heard a loud knock on the bathroom's closed door. "Mom!"

"Yes, Cody." I reached for a towel, wrapped it around me, and opened the door just wide enough to peek out.

"Dad is on the phone for you."

Expectancy was in his eyes, a look I never quite got used to. As if, with every call, there lay the possibility of reconciliation. Perhaps, I imagined his mind wondering, if they talk long enough, and the conversation is friendly enough . . . perhaps . . .

"Did you tell him I was about to get in the shower?"

My son's face went blank. "No."

I smiled in hopes of easing any negative feelings I had about this moment. Charlie was the last person I wanted to speak with. "Well, did he say what he wanted?"

Again the eyes brightened. "No, but I told him we went to Wet 'n Wild today."

I nodded. "Okay, well . . . tell him that I am in the shower and I'll call him back."

Cody shook his head. "I can't. He said to tell you it's important. And he sounds really serious."

A sudden fear overtook me. What if one of his parents was sick? Or worse? "Tell him I'll be there in a minute." Cody nodded and started to back away. "Oh, and Cody . . ."

He looked at me, then blinked. "Yes, Mom?"

"Close the bedroom door on your way out."

"I know, Mom," he said.

I closed the bathroom door, turned off the shower, and dashed into the bedroom, where I picked up the bedside phone. I heard Cody on the extension, happily telling his father about the day and about how many times he'd ridden and conquered the Storm, one of the thrill rides the park offers.

Charlie replied with, "Buddy, that sounds great, and I promise we'll do that when you come for your visit, but I think I hear your mom on the other line."

I squared my shoulders. "Cody, you can hang up, sweetheart. Get your shower, okay?"

"Okay, Mom. Love you, Dad."

"I love you too, buddy."

My heart twisted. When I heard the click of Cody disconnecting his extension, I said, "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"Cody said it was important. Is it your parents? Has something happened to one of them?"

"Good grief, Kimberly. Calm down. I just want to talk to you about picking up the boys and-"

"What's so important about that? You get them on Monday. Just like last year; pick them up at 9:00 in the morning. They'll be ready."

"Whoa there, Miss Att.i.tude."

"I don't have an att.i.tude, Charlie."