Summer's Child. Diane Chamberlain
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kind of conversation. Let’s go up on the deck.”
She followed him out the back door and up the stairs to the small deck, with its view of both ocean and sound. Nearly as good a view as from the Sea Shanty’s widow’s walk.
“I’d offer you something to drink,” Rory said, “but all I have right now is water and milk. Zack already drank the soda I bought. I’d forgotten how much food he can go through.”
Daria sat in an Adirondack chair and slipped her sunglasses on again, even though the sun had fallen well below the horizon. Rory’s green eyes were uncovered, and she wished that were not the case. There was something about his eyes that had always made her weak-kneed, even when they’d been kids.
After a few moments of chatter about Zack and the view and the changes that had taken place in Kill Devil Hills during Rory’s absence, she got to the point of her visit.
“I know Shelly asked you to find out about her past,” she began, “but it’s really not a good idea. You don’t understand Shelly. She’s not—” Daria hunted for the right choice of words “—like everyone else,” she said. “I know she seems perfectly fine. I know she’s beautiful, and a wonderful person, but—”
“I think I do understand,” he said. “I picked up on what you’re saying when I met her. Did she suffer some brain damage when she was born?”
Daria was surprised that he’d grasped that fact; she hadn’t thought Shelly’s problems were that obvious. She nodded. “Yes, that’s what they figure. Her IQ is in the very low-average range, but on top of that, she has some learning disabilities that kept her back in school. Plus, she has a seizure disorder and, although she’s on medication for it, it’s not under very good control. She’s not allowed to get her driver’s license because she’s never been seizure free for a year, and that’s the requirement.” She glanced toward the Sea Shanty, but the only part of the cottage she could see from back here was the widow’s walk. “She’s a bit phobic,” she continued, “and very dependent on me. After Mom died, she became my responsibility. She was only eight, and I was just nineteen. Now she gets scared when I’m not around.”
“Why was she your responsibility?” Rory looked puzzled. “What about your dad? He was still living then, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, but Shelly was too much for him to handle. She really needed a woman. A mother.”
“What about Chloe? She was the oldest. Why didn’t she help?”
Everyone asked that question, and Daria was ready with her answer. “Chloe was already a nun,” she explained. “She was living in Georgia, and there really wasn’t much she could do.”
“What did you mean about Shelly being phobic?” he asked.
“She’s afraid of a lot of things—earthquakes and snakes, for example, even though she’s never encountered either. But mostly, she’s afraid of being away from the Outer Banks. Pathologically afraid.” Daria wasn’t sure how to explain this. She’d tried over the years to describe Shelly’s fears to doctors and teachers, but no one really seemed to understand. “Shelly is only happy on the beach,” she said. “When she was little, we came to the Sea Shanty for the summers and spent the rest of the year in Norfolk, and we began to notice that she had a sort of…split personality. She’d be anxious and down in the winter, and relaxed and up in the summer.”
“Well, aren’t most kids that way?” Rory smiled. “I sure was.”
“Yes, but for a different reason,” she said. The light on the deck was fading, and she took off her sunglasses. “At first, we thought it was because she was in school in the winter and free in the summer, the way it is with most kids. But gradually we realized it was the beach itself that made her calm and happy. One time, when she was only about seven years old, we came down at the beginning of the summer. Dad had just pulled the car into the driveway—he hadn’t even come to a stop—when she jumped out and ran to the beach, right to the exact spot where I’d found her, although there was no way she could have known that. She sat down there and watched the ocean, all by herself, all afternoon. It was as if she could finally relax.”
Rory actually shivered. “That’s a little spooky,” he said.
“It was,” Daria agreed. “But after all these years, I’ve just come to accept that about her. She needs the beach. Period. After Mom died and I realized how happy Shelly was here, I started bringing her down on weekends. Just Shelly and me. Dad was…” She remembered her father’s years as a widower as one long fall into a life barely lived. “Dad withdrew after Mom died. He never dated or did things with friends, even though he was only in his fifties. He spent more and more time at church. Chloe and I used to say that he and God were dating.” She laughed at the memory. “He loved Shelly and me, but essentially, we were on our own. So, anyhow, Shelly had to settle for weekends at the beach. But then, when she was twelve and went on a field trip with her class to a museum in Norfolk, she disappeared. We didn’t know if she’d been kidnapped or what.” Shelly had been kidnapped once before, but she didn’t want to get into that.
“The police looked for her,” Daria continued. “The next day, when she was still missing, I called Chloe in Georgia to tell her about it. Chloe wondered if Shelly might have gotten here to Kill Devil Hills somehow. It seemed impossible, but it turned out that’s where she was. We never did find out exactly how she’d managed to get here—some combination of buses and hitchhiking, I guess. She’d broken one of the Sea Shanty’s windows to get in and had pretty much set up house for herself. I decided that was it—we’d move here.” She glanced at the widow’s walk again. “I still don’t know if it was the right thing to do for her. Maybe she should have been forced to tough it out somewhere else, because—to be honest—I think she’s even worse than she was. Whenever we have to go to the mainland now, to visit someone or to see a doctor, she gets panicky. But I love her.” She looked directly into Rory’s eyes and saw sympathy there. “To see her miserable tears me apart,” she said. “To see the total joy in her face when she’s safe on her beach makes it all worthwhile to me.”
“Maybe it was the right move for her,” Rory said. “She’s able to hold a job here, it sounds like. Would she be able to do that if you lived back in Norfolk?”
“I don’t think she would have been able to get out of bed in the morning if we’d stayed in Norfolk,” Daria said. “And she’s very responsible about her work. But frankly, there really isn’t much she can do to earn a living or to allow her to live independently. Sean Macy—the priest at St. Esther’s—and the others who supervise her give her a lot of direction in the housekeeping she does. Sometimes I think they keep her there out of pity. She probably wouldn’t be able to hold a job anywhere else.” Daria suddenly felt as though she had painted a one-sided picture of her sister. “She does have skills, though. She’s very kindhearted and likable. She’s creative. Her jewelry is actually in demand. She’s a terrific swimmer. Physically, she’s very graceful.”
“Yes,” Rory said, “I noticed that.”
“She can’t work, but she sure can play volleyball.” Daria smiled. “She excels at just about everything that’s fun. She just can’t do the serious things in life very well.”
Rory laughed. “Maybe we should all take a lesson from her,” he said. Then he leaned forward, his face now sober and not far from hers, and she saw the fine lines around his eyes. “I understand what you’re saying about Shelly and why you’d be concerned about her,” he said. “But she certainly knew what she was doing when she wrote to me about True Life Stories. She understood what the show is about and how it might be able to help her.”
Daria felt tears of frustration form in her eyes. He still didn’t get it. “Shelly is so vulnerable,” she said. “She’s fragile. She needs protection. People take advantage of her very easily. She’ll do anything if she thinks it’s helping someone else.”
“Are you saying she’s only enthusiastic about me telling her story because she