She’d lain in bed in the weak light of dawn, rejecting the notion to go back to sleep until her alarm went off.
As she laced up her running shoes a short time later, she’d been aware that the morning jog she planned to take due west to the nearest beach was for more than exercise.
No matter what her mother claimed, Tara had known she’d find her there. The beach was where her mother had spent the morning of this date for as long as Tara could remember.
“Even after all this time, it hurts like a thorn in my heart to think about them,” her mother said. “Looking at the water brings it all rushing back. It doesn’t matter that this is the bay and it happened a long way from here at the ocean.”
Tara never pressed her mother for the details of the tragic day. Over the years, however, she’d picked up bits and pieces of information. She knew, for example, that the tragedy had occurred at one of the beaches on North Carolina’s Outer Banks. After saving up for months for their first beach vacation, her parents had chosen one of the little towns on the Outer Banks. The location made sense because it was a manageable drive from their home in Charlotte.
“If it hurts so much, why do you do this to yourself, Mom?” Tara asked gently.
“I don’t seem to know how to stop.” Her mother’s gaze was still on the water. “I can picture them clear as day. Sunny was running full tilt for the ocean, laughing and shouting. Scott was coming up right behind her. He swept Sunny into his arms and lifted her into the air, twirling her around.”
Tara should stop her mother before she got any further. She parted her lips to speak, but her vocal cords froze. She’d never heard the entire story. So help her, no matter how painful it was, she wanted to hear it.
“I was smiling on my way back to the hotel. I left my beach chair there. Scott didn’t want me to go back for it. He said the beach blanket was plenty good enough. He wanted me in the water with him and Sunny. But I wanted that chair.”
She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling raggedly.
“Our hotel was but a couple blocks from the ocean,” she said. “Still, it couldn’t have taken me more than fifteen minutes to get the chair. I remember humming on the walk back, that song about what a beautiful morning it was.”
Her mother swallowed. Again Tara thought about stopping her. Again she let her continue.
“I could tell right off the bat something was dreadfully wrong.” Her mother spoke in a monotone. “There were a dozen or so people in a half circle at the shoreline, standing around something. One woman was screaming. Another was crying. I couldn’t figure what they were staring at. I thought maybe Scott would know. I looked around for him. Except I couldn’t find him. And that’s when I knew.”
Her mother’s pain was so raw that Tara felt it, too. She put her arm around her mother’s shoulder, drawing her close.
“A man was trying to do CPR on Scott. He’s the one who pulled them out. He said it happened really fast. They were in water about waist-deep when a big wave came. Scott must have lost hold of Sunny, because he started shouting for help. When the man got to him, the water was over Scott’s head. He was caught in an undertow.” Her mother’s lips trembled. “The man maybe could have saved him, but Scott told him to find our little girl. When he did, it was too late for both Scott and Sunny.”
Tara squeezed her mother’s shoulders tighter, horrified at the scene her mother described. She’d always known her father and sister had drowned, but without the specifics the story didn’t have the power to grab her by the heart and squeeze.
“If only I hadn’t gone back for that stupid chair,” her mother said in a small voice. “Maybe things would have turned out different.”
Tara shifted her body so she could look into her mother’s
face. “It wasn’t your fault, Mom. You know that, don’t you?”
“That’s
As she laced up her running shoes a short time later, she’d been aware that the morning jog she planned to take due west to the nearest beach was for more than exercise.
No matter what her mother claimed, Tara had known she’d find her there. The beach was where her mother had spent the morning of this date for as long as Tara could remember.
“Even after all this time, it hurts like a thorn in my heart to think about them,” her mother said. “Looking at the water brings it all rushing back. It doesn’t matter that this is the bay and it happened a long way from here at the ocean.”
Tara never pressed her mother for the details of the tragic day. Over the years, however, she’d picked up bits and pieces of information. She knew, for example, that the tragedy had occurred at one of the beaches on North Carolina’s Outer Banks. After saving up for months for their first beach vacation, her parents had chosen one of the little towns on the Outer Banks. The location made sense because it was a manageable drive from their home in Charlotte.
“If it hurts so much, why do you do this to yourself, Mom?” Tara asked gently.
“I don’t seem to know how to stop.” Her mother’s gaze was still on the water. “I can picture them clear as day. Sunny was running full tilt for the ocean, laughing and shouting. Scott was coming up right behind her. He swept Sunny into his arms and lifted her into the air, twirling her around.”
Tara should stop her mother before she got any further. She parted her lips to speak, but her vocal cords froze. She’d never heard the entire story. So help her, no matter how painful it was, she wanted to hear it.
“I was smiling on my way back to the hotel. I left my beach chair there. Scott didn’t want me to go back for it. He said the beach blanket was plenty good enough. He wanted me in the water with him and Sunny. But I wanted that chair.”
She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling raggedly.
“Our hotel was but a couple blocks from the ocean,” she said. “Still, it couldn’t have taken me more than fifteen minutes to get the chair. I remember humming on the walk back, that song about what a beautiful morning it was.”
Her mother swallowed. Again Tara thought about stopping her. Again she let her continue.
“I could tell right off the bat something was dreadfully wrong.” Her mother spoke in a monotone. “There were a dozen or so people in a half circle at the shoreline, standing around something. One woman was screaming. Another was crying. I couldn’t figure what they were staring at. I thought maybe Scott would know. I looked around for him. Except I couldn’t find him. And that’s when I knew.”
Her mother’s pain was so raw that Tara felt it, too. She put her arm around her mother’s shoulder, drawing her close.
“A man was trying to do CPR on Scott. He’s the one who pulled them out. He said it happened really fast. They were in water about waist-deep when a big wave came. Scott must have lost hold of Sunny, because he started shouting for help. When the man got to him, the water was over Scott’s head. He was caught in an undertow.” Her mother’s lips trembled. “The man maybe could have saved him, but Scott told him to find our little girl. When he did, it was too late for both Scott and Sunny.”
Tara squeezed her mother’s shoulders tighter, horrified at the scene her mother described. She’d always known her father and sister had drowned, but without the specifics the story didn’t have the power to grab her by the heart and squeeze.
“If only I hadn’t gone back for that stupid chair,” her mother said in a small voice. “Maybe things would have turned out different.”
Tara shifted her body so she could look into her mother’s
face. “It wasn’t your fault, Mom. You know that, don’t you?”
“That’s
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