“You stalking me or something?” he said with a grin.

“Oh, yeah, that’s what I’m doing.” Carson settled the gear she carried for Nate on the bench under the thatched roof and took a seat. She looked out over the lagoon. A young woman in a bright blue rash guard and swimsuit sat on the dock in front of two young dolphins. Beside her was a blue cooler filled with fish that the dolphins kept their eyes on. Taylor and Carson watched the trainer put a pair of dolphins through their paces. The morning was punctuated with short blasts from her whistle and her high voice of praise for the dolphins. An older couple and two young children, probably grandchildren, lined up along the lagoon to watch. The little girl was enthralled, clapping her hands whenever the dolphin performed its task.

“Where’s Nate?” Taylor asked.

Carson was impressed that he’d remembered her nephew’s name. “He’s with Joan in the classroom. I’m supposed to butt out for a while so they can work in private. I worried that Nate would have a meltdown when she asked me to leave, but nope. Not a whimper. I’ve been relegated to pack mule.”

“Joan’s like that. Everyone falls under her spell. You mentioned he’s in the Pathways program—Nate has special needs?”

Carson widened her eyes a bit. Clearly someone was feeling chattier today. “Nate has Asperger’s, which is a high-functioning autism. He’s very smart,” she hurried to add, “but he’s become withdrawn lately and we’re hoping this program will help him open up more.”

“It will,” Taylor replied.

She shot him a quick glance, wondering about his certainty. “I hope so. But my biggest worry now is just getting Nate into a routine. He’s not very flexible. We narrowly avoided a serious meltdown when we arrived, but I slaved over making a new routine for him.” She laughed lightly. “I feel like Suzy Homemaker. I’ve got pictures posted all over our room and I put a schedule on the fridge—complete with shiny stickers for effort. It’s written in stone what time we get up, when we eat, our toiletry habits, and what time we go to bed.”

“Sounds good to a Marine.”

She skipped a beat. “You’re a Marine?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She’d been right that he had the fitness and short haircut of a military man. “I thought you might be a soldier.”

“Not a soldier,” he corrected. “A Marine. A soldier is army.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Carson hadn’t known the distinction.

“Just different,” he explained. “But most military men live on a strict schedule.”

“I’ve never been much of one for schedules. I’m not lazy,” she quickly added, seeing his expression grow dubious. “I’m very disciplined. I surf and I’m out on the ocean at dawn most mornings. But living by a clock? Not so much. I have more of the free-spirit mentality. Making a schedule was a new experience, let me tell you.”

“You don’t have kids?”

“God, no. Far from it. I’m not even married. What about you?”

“Nope. Not married. No kids. Just a dog.”

“Girlfriend?”

He tried to hide his grin. “Nope.”

She noticed he didn’t ask whether she had a boyfriend. His diffidence was intriguing.

“What brings you back here today?” she asked, getting to the question in the forefront of her mind. “Yesterday I figured you were a tourist. But today you’re back and you know Joan.”

He looked out at the lagoon. “I’m back most days.”

Curious, she thought. Getting the man to talk was like pulling teeth, but she could be stubborn, too, so she waited him out. She didn’t want to press him. His reticence led her to believe he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“I’m doing a program with Joan myself,” Taylor volunteered at length.

Surprised that he’d answered her question, Carson turned her head to look at him. He was still watching the group in the water.

As if sensing her curiosity, Taylor stretched and started gathering his things.

“Got to go. My session starts soon.”

“Where is your session?”

“The other side of the park, where the boys hang out. They call it the bachelor pods.”

“Cute.” Carson smirked.

Taylor rose and slung his USMC backpack across his shoulder. “See you.”

They said a brief good-bye and she watched him walk off along the path to a different section of the park. She wondered if she’d see him again. She hoped she would. In his long cargo shorts, gray T-shirt, and sandals, he looked like any other tourist clustering the lagoon. There wasn’t any limp or physical signal of an injury. And there was no mistaking the power in his muscles as he made his way along the path. Now more aware of his background, she readily picked up how he turned his head from right to left, scoping out the crowd.

Sullivan’s Island

Dora got into her running clothes and tiptoed through the quiet, dimly lit house, careful not to wake anyone. She was delighted that she’d awakened before Harper for her morning walk. She moved swiftly down the streets, while above in the trees birds chirped out their dawn song. Soon her feet hit the soft sand of the beach path and then, at last, the great expanse of the beach and sea. She stood on the precipice of the dune, smelled the sea air, felt its breath on her face and her chest expand at the sight of a new day’s sun rising. The sky was a glory of pastels that shimmered in reflection on the calm sea.

This early in the morning, the sand was untrammeled. Bits of mica glistened in the lavender light. Dora stopped to take off her new walking shoes, preferring to go barefoot during this stretch. The hard-packed sand was moist under her feet as she walked briskly near the shoreline. It was breakfast time for the shorebirds. Peeps ran on straight legs, playing tag with the waves, gulls cruised low, and higher in the sky, pelicans flew in formation.

Early mornings were an introspective time on the beach. A young couple jogged past her. In the distance, a man played with his chocolate Lab, throwing a ball into the water and watching the big dog jubilantly leap after it into the sea. Dora wasn’t jogging yet, but in only a few days, her pace had quickened and there was a snap and precision to her walk. She wasn’t as winded, either. As she walked, she kept pace by thinking of new words to describe herself: alive, empowered, strong. Just thinking the words made her feel better.