from here up to Cape Cod, so I’ve heard. Grown-ups would stop talking about it when we came into the room. But we knew. We talked about what we’d do if the Germans landed. Your granddad was going to fight them off with his slingshot, as I recall.”
Miz Callie’s words made it all too real. Her skin prickled, and she rubbed her arm. “I can’t imagine living through that.”
“You mustn’t think we were frightened all the time. Land, no. We played on the beach just like we always did—a whole crew of us kids. We just weren’t allowed to roam as far as we wanted—there was a gunnery range from Station 28 all the way up to Breech’s Inlet, and of course they expanded Fort Moultrie down at the other end.”
She tried to picture it. “You were living right in the middle of a military installation, it sounds like. I’m surprised your folks stayed on the island.”
“Pride, I guess. My daddy used to say that Hitler wasn’t going to chase him out of his house.” Miz Callie smiled, as if she could still hear her daddy’s voice. “Folks took it personally, you know. I guess that’s why the family was so upset with Ned.”
“Did you know that at the time?”
Her grandmother turned a page in the album, frowning down at it. “I think maybe us kids knew something was going on, even if we didn’t know what it was. We were in and out of each other’s houses, and we’d hear things. I remember Ned’s daddy being in an awful mood, it seemed.” She pointed to a faded photo. “There we are— the whole bunch of us.”
The photo was a five by seven, so it was a little easier
to see than the others. Kids in swimsuits, the front row kneeling in the sand. She picked out Miz Callie and Granddad without any trouble. She put her finger on a tall figure in the second row. “Is that Ned?”
Miz Callie nodded. “Fine-looking boy, wasn’t he? And there’s my cousin Jessie, and the Whitcomb boys—my, I haven’t thought of them in years.”
This might be exactly what she needed, and there seemed no way to ask the question except to blurt it out. “Are any of them still around?”
“My sister Lizbet, down in Beaufort, you know that.” She touched the young faces with her finger. “I don’t know about the Whitcomb boys. They were good friends of your granddad and Ned, but they moved away to Atlanta, I think. Tommy Barton—he was Ned’s pal. He got into the army that next winter, died somewhere in the South Pacific.”
All those young faces, their lives encapsulated in a few brief sentences. Georgia glanced at her grandmother, another question on her lips. But she stifled it. Miz Callie had tears in her eyes, and the finger that touched the photo was trembling.
Georgia clasped her hand. “Will you let me borrow the album for a few days? Adam has a scanner, and I know he’d be glad to scan the pictures into his photo program on the computer. He can probably restore them, at least a bit. Okay?” Miz Callie nodded, leaning back in the chair. “You do that, sugar. We’ll look at them again. Maybe I’ll remember
somethin’ useful.”
“You’ve already helped.” She rose, bending to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “We’ll work it out. I promise.”
Chapter Eight
M att hesitated on the dock at the Isle of Palms Marina, watching as Georgia stepped lightly onto the deck of a small boat. When he didn’t immediately follow her, she looked at him, eyebrows lifting.
“Is something wrong?”
“You’re sure you know how to drive this thing?” He grabbed a convenient piling, using it to steady himself as he negotiated the transfer to the boat. Falling into the water wouldn’t do a thing for his confidence level.
“Positive.” Her face relaxed in a grin. “Trust me, Adam wouldn’t let me take his boat if he weren’t sure I knew how to handle it. He taught me himself, and he was a tough taskmaster. He had me in tears more than once, but I learned.”
“Adam is the brother that’s in the
Miz Callie’s words made it all too real. Her skin prickled, and she rubbed her arm. “I can’t imagine living through that.”
“You mustn’t think we were frightened all the time. Land, no. We played on the beach just like we always did—a whole crew of us kids. We just weren’t allowed to roam as far as we wanted—there was a gunnery range from Station 28 all the way up to Breech’s Inlet, and of course they expanded Fort Moultrie down at the other end.”
She tried to picture it. “You were living right in the middle of a military installation, it sounds like. I’m surprised your folks stayed on the island.”
“Pride, I guess. My daddy used to say that Hitler wasn’t going to chase him out of his house.” Miz Callie smiled, as if she could still hear her daddy’s voice. “Folks took it personally, you know. I guess that’s why the family was so upset with Ned.”
“Did you know that at the time?”
Her grandmother turned a page in the album, frowning down at it. “I think maybe us kids knew something was going on, even if we didn’t know what it was. We were in and out of each other’s houses, and we’d hear things. I remember Ned’s daddy being in an awful mood, it seemed.” She pointed to a faded photo. “There we are— the whole bunch of us.”
The photo was a five by seven, so it was a little easier
to see than the others. Kids in swimsuits, the front row kneeling in the sand. She picked out Miz Callie and Granddad without any trouble. She put her finger on a tall figure in the second row. “Is that Ned?”
Miz Callie nodded. “Fine-looking boy, wasn’t he? And there’s my cousin Jessie, and the Whitcomb boys—my, I haven’t thought of them in years.”
This might be exactly what she needed, and there seemed no way to ask the question except to blurt it out. “Are any of them still around?”
“My sister Lizbet, down in Beaufort, you know that.” She touched the young faces with her finger. “I don’t know about the Whitcomb boys. They were good friends of your granddad and Ned, but they moved away to Atlanta, I think. Tommy Barton—he was Ned’s pal. He got into the army that next winter, died somewhere in the South Pacific.”
All those young faces, their lives encapsulated in a few brief sentences. Georgia glanced at her grandmother, another question on her lips. But she stifled it. Miz Callie had tears in her eyes, and the finger that touched the photo was trembling.
Georgia clasped her hand. “Will you let me borrow the album for a few days? Adam has a scanner, and I know he’d be glad to scan the pictures into his photo program on the computer. He can probably restore them, at least a bit. Okay?” Miz Callie nodded, leaning back in the chair. “You do that, sugar. We’ll look at them again. Maybe I’ll remember
somethin’ useful.”
“You’ve already helped.” She rose, bending to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “We’ll work it out. I promise.”
Chapter Eight
M att hesitated on the dock at the Isle of Palms Marina, watching as Georgia stepped lightly onto the deck of a small boat. When he didn’t immediately follow her, she looked at him, eyebrows lifting.
“Is something wrong?”
“You’re sure you know how to drive this thing?” He grabbed a convenient piling, using it to steady himself as he negotiated the transfer to the boat. Falling into the water wouldn’t do a thing for his confidence level.
“Positive.” Her face relaxed in a grin. “Trust me, Adam wouldn’t let me take his boat if he weren’t sure I knew how to handle it. He taught me himself, and he was a tough taskmaster. He had me in tears more than once, but I learned.”
“Adam is the brother that’s in the
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