Lynne walked up carrying medical equipment in her arms. “What’s she doing?”

“She’s echolocating. She won’t stop. She keeps coming back and doing it over and over. Look at her—here she comes again.” Delphine was gently poking her rostrum near Carson’s abdomen. Still laughing, Carson turned around, showing Delphine her back. “Is this a new game for her?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Lynne replied, slipping into the pool beside Carson. She handed Carson a long plastic feeding tube. “Sometimes she echolocates on the metal pole when we sweep the pool. I can feel the tingling on my palms. It’s kind of a weird feeling.”

“Exactly.”

Lynne gave Carson a curious look. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

Carson barked out a laugh. “God, no. Why do you ask?”

“A few years back I was in here with a dolphin and the same thing happened to me. The dolphin kept coming by and echolocating my belly. Over and over.” She laughed. “A week later I found out I was pregnant.”

Carson felt her body go cold in the water. “You mean, the dolphin . . .” She couldn’t say the words.

“. . . saw my fetus before I even did,” Lynne finished for her. “Amazing, huh? It could see something was different inside me and was curious. That little fetus is three years old now. Makes for a good story, doesn’t it?”

Carson couldn’t reply. Of course she wasn’t pregnant, her mind screamed. Blake always used protection. Still, just the possibility freaked her out. She turned her head to look at Delphine, who was floating nearby, her mouth open and relaxed, watching her with an angelic smile.

What do you know? Carson thought irritably.

Carson had to focus as she assisted Lynne with administering the medication to a compliant Delphine. Then, at last, it was Nate’s turn to play. Carson climbed from the water to sit alongside the pool with her feet dangling in the water and watched Nate toss the ball over and over to Delphine. The dolphin was like a dog, never tiring of going after the ball and tossing it back. The two of them were in heaven. Nate didn’t need to get into the water. He was seeing for himself that Delphine was okay, that she didn’t blame him.

Delphine isn’t the only one on the mend, she thought with a bittersweet smile. She remembered Taylor’s words: Not all wounds are visible.

An hour after Carson and Nate had said their emotional good-byes to Delphine, with a promise from Lynne to keep Carson apprised of the dolphin’s progress, Carson stood with her hands on her hips, staring uncompromisingly at the little white stick lying on the bathroom counter. It was an exercise in frustration, like waiting for a pot of water to boil. She lowered her head and closed her eyes. She’d never realized how long three minutes could be. Nor that a heart could pound so fast or her hands feel so cold. Lifting her head, she checked the wall clock. Three minutes . . .

She licked her lips, took a breath. Her hands were shaking as she held up the tip of the little stick to the color chart on the box.

Carson stared at the stick and felt the blood draining from her face. She slipped slowly to the floor, feeling faint. Over and over her dazed mind kept screaming, There must be some mistake. She lurched for the box and read the directions again. Then she looked at the stick again. The two little lines were a bright, unyielding, mocking pink.

Carson leaned back against the wall and stared at one long, narrow crack in the bathtub’s porcelain. It forked in the middle of the tub and became two cracks. She kept tracing the crack back and forth, her brain unable to think beyond the glaring truth of those two lines.

She was pregnant.

Chapter Eighteen

Charleston, South Carolina

Mamaw pulled the Camry into a space in front of the Medical University and craned her neck, searching for Lucille. Usually Lucille drove while Mamaw preferred to be the passenger. The Camry belonged to Lucille, and Mamaw didn’t feel comfortable with the strange car, but since she’d given the Blue Bomber to Carson she no longer had “wheels,” as Carson said. Today she’d driven Lucille to another of several recent doctor appointments. Mamaw did not like how weak Lucille was looking and insisted on driving her to the city. In turn, Lucille had insisted that Mamaw not wait in the hospital for her. Instead, Mamaw could do a little shopping in town, a rarity these days. She had tried to get into her old groove on King Street, but found that most of her favorite boutiques had closed, replaced by hip little cafés and trendy shops.

There was a time she could walk into a boutique and expect the clerk to have a card on file with her sizes. Today no one knew her name. She’d spent her entire life in this city, was a sixth-generation Charlestonian. Generations of her family were buried in this city—her husband, her son—as someday she would be.

And yet, sitting between these massive hospital buildings, watching the traffic go by and throngs of people crowding the sidewalks, she didn’t feel that it was home any longer.

What was keeping her? she wondered. Not more than a minute later she spotted a slightly stooped woman in a navy-and-white shirtdress pushing through the hospital revolving door. She stopped on the sidewalk and stood clutching her bag, looking from left to right, the wind picking up the hem of her dress.

“Lucille!” Mamaw called out the window.

Lucille lifted her hand to acknowledge she’d seen her.

When did Lucille get so old? Mamaw wondered as she eased the car into drive. And so frail? It seemed to have happened overnight. Worry creased her brow. A body didn’t get so frail so quickly with the flu. A shiver of fear swept over her as she pulled up to the curb.

Lucille climbed into the passenger seat with a soft grunt. She fumbled with the seat belt buckle. Once Mamaw heard the click, she flicked on her blinkers and carefully steered the car back into traffic.

“I’m sorry if I kept you waiting,” Lucille said. Her voice sounded tired and she leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

Mamaw glanced at the woman beside her. Lucille looked drawn, her usually plump cheeks sunken. In her hand she carried a large paper bag from the hospital. Medicine, Mamaw guessed. She drove carefully through the tight traffic on narrow city streets, turned onto East Bay, then headed for the bridge.

She breathed easier once she was on the expansive Ravenel Bridge that towered over the Cooper River. She glanced again at Lucille. Her head was turned as she sat quietly looking out at the expansive view of the Cooper River.