Free Pawleys Island-lowcountry 5 by Dorothea Benton Frank Page B

An absolute angel.”
    I didn’t feel like an angel at all as I pulled into the parking lot of Rebecca’s building and got out. She was sitting on the bottom step, tying her sneakers.
    “Let’s go,” she said.
    “Okay.”
    We crossed the dunes, and as always the spectacular sight of the wide and long stretch of beach made my heartbeat quicken. The blue sky was clear with the tiniest shreds of white clouds stretching out just above the horizon. Flocks of seagulls flew in formation overhead, and scattered pelicans slowly circled and then dive-bombed into the waters, catching sushi. Hundreds of little sandpipers darted to the edge of the shore, digging for periwinkles, and scurried away on the arrival of each foamy wave. The water sparkled under the rising sun and the salt-scented eastern breeze blew our hair away from our faces.
    We began to walk in earnest and talked now and then about safe topics—the day, the view and so on. She told me about Claudia Kelly, her plastic surgeon friend from Atlanta. This led us to discuss the many sins of the media and how it hyped public opinion that women over forty were finished unless they got a surgical overhaul.
    “The number one reason men leave their wives is for a younger woman.”
    “How come you know so much about divorce?”
    It seemed like the moment to give her some background information on myself, hoping she would feel more comfortable to talk about her disaster.
    “I’m an attorney,” I said. “I was a senior partner in the largest matrimonial practice in South Carolina. Until I quit.”
    “Oh? Why did you quit?”
    I stopped, leaned to put my hands on my knees and breathed deeply. Rebecca stopped too, waiting for me to answer. If I thought I had the right to grill her about her private life, then was she not entitled to the same privilege? I considered it and then decided I would tell her.
    “My son died. My husband died two years later. I needed to reorder my life. It was a lot to take. It still is.”
    “Oh! My god, Abigail! I am so, so sorry. Can I ask what happened?”
    “Sure. My husband went into the hospital for knee replacement surgery. When he was in college, he played football for Carolina and tore up his knees so many times that he had to…Well, we’re all familiar with the agony and the ecstasy and so forth. Anyway, he was too heavy, and while he was under the anesthesia, he had a heart attack. They couldn’t revive him. He was only forty-seven.”
    “Good Lord! That’s awful! And your son?”
    “Car accident. He was twenty. That’s the worst. Yeah. Ashley was just twenty. My beautiful boy. My only child.”
    I choked up and struggled to regain my composure. Rebecca didn’t know what to say. What could she say? Only what everyone usually managed to sputter…
    “Oh, Abigail! I am so sorry!”
    “Yeah, well, thanks. That’s the story. I can’t stand around and see people I like be taken advantage of. It’s my perpetual lawyer gene or something. I’d give anything to have my husband and son back. Anything. So I’m thinking that if I can’t have mine, maybe I can at least see if it’s possible to do something about what’s happened to you. That’s why I have been asking so many questions, I guess. Besides that, I guess Huey and I probably are a couple of busybodies.”
    I started walking again. Rebecca followed, working to keep up pace. I took a number of deep breaths. I hated to talk about Ashley. If I just kept the story to myself, if I didn’t say the words, then maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe it had not all really happened. Maybe Ashley was home with John, watching a ball game. Maybe I was just on vacation at Pawleys for a few weeks or months, in some kind of limbo that would keep me from the reality of my horror. Stolen lives. Death. So final and unbelievable that it was impossible to accept. If I didn’t look at it, think about it, talk about it…I could stay sane. I worried that if I lingered around it too much, I might be