kitchen. The candles, stuck into a motley assortment of holders, sat on the counter, along with a pack of matches. Georgia carried three into the living room, setting one on the table next to Miz Callie and the others on the mantel.
As she did so, lightning cracked in a spectacular display over the water, lighting up the beach for a split second. Then the power went off.
“That was fast.” Georgia groped her way back to her
grandmother, fumbled with the matches and lit the candle. She made quick work of lighting the other two, welcoming their soft yellow glow.
“Thank you, sugar.” Miz Callie patted the overstuffed hassock next to her, and Georgia sat down. “There now, all safe and cozy.”
A roll of thunder sounded, so loud it seemed to rattle the dishes in the cupboard. Georgia moved a little closer to her grandmother. “This is just like old times. How many summer thunderstorms have we waited out in here?”
Her grandmother chuckled softly. “Remember when Amanda hid under the bed?”
“I sure do. But it’s probably not safe to remind her of that anymore.” The polished, efficient Amanda she’d lunched with bore little resemblance to the terrified child who’d refused to come out from under the bed in a storm. “This house stood through Hugo. I don’t reckon
anything short of that will bother it.”
Sorrow touched her grandmother’s face for a moment, and Georgia knew she was thinking about her own family home. Before Hurricane Hugo, it had been on the lot beyond where Matt’s rental house stood.
“I’m sorry. You lost so much in Hugo.”
“Plenty of people did.” Miz Callie patted her hand. “I just hope Lindsay’s not frightened. Maybe I should have warned Matt to have some candles ready.”
“I’m sure he’s capable of handling the situation.” The mention of his name brought back those moments on the beach. She wrapped her fingers around her wrist. She could feel his grasp, see the play of emotion in his eyes.
Miz Callie leaned back in the rocker, her gaze on Georgia’s face. “I s’pose it’s too soon, but I can’t help but wonder…” “Nothing new to report yet. Matt is searching the military records as a starting point.” She needed to do her
part—to get Miz Callie talking in hopes that more would emerge. “If there’s anything else you can remember about that time, it might help.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” She took something from the bookcase behind her. “I had a look around today, and I found this.”
Georgia took the book she held out—an old leather album, its cover watermarked. She opened it carefully. The brittle pages cracked at a touch, and some of the photos had washed out so much that they were indeci-pherable, especially by candlelight.
“They’re in a bad way, I’m afraid.” Miz Callie touched a faded picture. “That’s my mamma and my little sister, your Great-aunt Lizbet. Mamma and Daddy bought me that little Brownie camera for my birthday, and I was so proud of it. Never stopped taking pictures that whole summer.”
“The summer Ned left?” A little shiver of excitement went through her.
Her grandmother looked surprised. “That’s right, it must have been, because that’s the year I got the camera, 1942. We had a crab boil on the beach, I remember, but we had to have it before sunset because of the blackout.”
“Blackout?”
“Georgia Lee, don’t tell me you didn’t know there were blackout regulations during the war.” Miz Callie shook her head at such ignorance.
Georgia flushed. “I knew. I just didn’t think about it affecting your having a fire on the beach, I guess.” It seemed incredibly long ago to her, but obviously not to her grandmother.
“Goodness, child, that was crucial, because of the U-boats. German submarines,” she added, as if doubting Georgia would know the term.
“You mean you were actually in danger here?”
Her grandmother’s gaze misted. “They sank ships along the coast
As she did so, lightning cracked in a spectacular display over the water, lighting up the beach for a split second. Then the power went off.
“That was fast.” Georgia groped her way back to her
grandmother, fumbled with the matches and lit the candle. She made quick work of lighting the other two, welcoming their soft yellow glow.
“Thank you, sugar.” Miz Callie patted the overstuffed hassock next to her, and Georgia sat down. “There now, all safe and cozy.”
A roll of thunder sounded, so loud it seemed to rattle the dishes in the cupboard. Georgia moved a little closer to her grandmother. “This is just like old times. How many summer thunderstorms have we waited out in here?”
Her grandmother chuckled softly. “Remember when Amanda hid under the bed?”
“I sure do. But it’s probably not safe to remind her of that anymore.” The polished, efficient Amanda she’d lunched with bore little resemblance to the terrified child who’d refused to come out from under the bed in a storm. “This house stood through Hugo. I don’t reckon
anything short of that will bother it.”
Sorrow touched her grandmother’s face for a moment, and Georgia knew she was thinking about her own family home. Before Hurricane Hugo, it had been on the lot beyond where Matt’s rental house stood.
“I’m sorry. You lost so much in Hugo.”
“Plenty of people did.” Miz Callie patted her hand. “I just hope Lindsay’s not frightened. Maybe I should have warned Matt to have some candles ready.”
“I’m sure he’s capable of handling the situation.” The mention of his name brought back those moments on the beach. She wrapped her fingers around her wrist. She could feel his grasp, see the play of emotion in his eyes.
Miz Callie leaned back in the rocker, her gaze on Georgia’s face. “I s’pose it’s too soon, but I can’t help but wonder…” “Nothing new to report yet. Matt is searching the military records as a starting point.” She needed to do her
part—to get Miz Callie talking in hopes that more would emerge. “If there’s anything else you can remember about that time, it might help.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” She took something from the bookcase behind her. “I had a look around today, and I found this.”
Georgia took the book she held out—an old leather album, its cover watermarked. She opened it carefully. The brittle pages cracked at a touch, and some of the photos had washed out so much that they were indeci-pherable, especially by candlelight.
“They’re in a bad way, I’m afraid.” Miz Callie touched a faded picture. “That’s my mamma and my little sister, your Great-aunt Lizbet. Mamma and Daddy bought me that little Brownie camera for my birthday, and I was so proud of it. Never stopped taking pictures that whole summer.”
“The summer Ned left?” A little shiver of excitement went through her.
Her grandmother looked surprised. “That’s right, it must have been, because that’s the year I got the camera, 1942. We had a crab boil on the beach, I remember, but we had to have it before sunset because of the blackout.”
“Blackout?”
“Georgia Lee, don’t tell me you didn’t know there were blackout regulations during the war.” Miz Callie shook her head at such ignorance.
Georgia flushed. “I knew. I just didn’t think about it affecting your having a fire on the beach, I guess.” It seemed incredibly long ago to her, but obviously not to her grandmother.
“Goodness, child, that was crucial, because of the U-boats. German submarines,” she added, as if doubting Georgia would know the term.
“You mean you were actually in danger here?”
Her grandmother’s gaze misted. “They sank ships along the coast
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