Page 62 of Captiva Book Club

“Are you okay?” Christopher asked.

Becca forced a smile and nodded. “I’m fine. Just…thinking.”

But she wasn’t fine, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

She sighed, letting her head fall against his shoulder. “I don’t know. I just feel…off. I should relax, but I can’t stop my mind from racing about all the things I need to get done for school and before the baby comes.”

She paused, swallowing hard against the lump forming in her throat.

“I wish I could turn my mind off for a little while.”

“That’s why we came to Captiva early. I hoped this would help. Does it?”

She smiled and lifted her head, nodding. “Yes, Chris. It does help,” she lied, but had no other choice.

“Let’s talk about Eloise,” he said. “I keep wondering who she’ll look like.”

The name of their unborn daughter hung in the air between them, a beautiful secret they kept to themselves until Christmas.

“I miss my mom so much, and I keep thinking about how she, Grandma and Gran will never meet Eloise. It breaks my heart.”

“I think…I think I need to go see them,” she said quietly, almost as if she were speaking to herself.

“You want me to drive you to the cemetery?”

“No, I want to go by myself, I need…Actually, I’m not sure what I need. I’m hoping I’ll find that out when I get there. But I think…I think I need to do this alone.”

He nodded. “I understand, just promise me you’ll let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” Becca promised, squeezing his hand.

She kissed his cheek and then got up from the towel.

“I’ll be back soon,” she said, giving Christopher a small, reassuring smile.

Becca had originally wanted to talk to her father to get some clarity on her feelings, but the last two days he was always busy with work. Ever since Becca was a little girl, she hated interrupting her father when he was working.

Although a casual, family-friendly business, Powell Water Sports was an important part of their lives. It afforded the Powell family an income to keep the family of six healthy and with a roof over their heads.

The business never took on loans or debt, and it was something Crawford was proud of. Learning to budget and live below one’s means was a lesson that served Becca well as she became an adult.

She felt fortunate to come from a close and loving family, and after her mother died, she appreciated how hard her father worked to keep the family together.

Being the youngest and a girl, islanders always assumed Becca was spoiled and treated differently than her brothers. Nothing could be farther from the truth. She was expected to work just as hard as her brothers, and there was nothing her parents ever did to single her out among their four children.

Some considered her a tomboy, although the label never set well with Becca. She was a girl and then a woman, and an accomplished one at that. There wasn’t anything her brothers did that she couldn’t do, and more than a few times she’d proven her emotional and physical strength to make a point.

For all the male dominance in her home growing up, Becca’s mother, grandmother and great-grandmother, whom she called Gran, instilled strong female confidence and wisdom in Becca’s life, and she missed them dearly.

It was a forty minute drive to the cemetery, and she found her mother’s grave alongside her Grandmother, Grandfather, Great-Grandfather and Gran. As she pulled up in front of their plots, she chuckled, remembering her Gran’s words.

“I need shade. You know how easily I burn. Make sure I get the shadiest part of our family plot.”

It had been months since she last visited the cemetery and she felt guilty for not visiting sooner.

The warmth of the late December sun gently warmed her skin. The sky was a soft blue, with only a few wispy clouds drifting lazily above.

The cemetery was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of palm fronds and the distant sound of traffic from the nearby road.

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