“Am I waking you up?”

“No,” she said begrudgingly.

“Good,” Mamaw said, and walked in. She went directly to the bed.

Dora expected her to rest her hand on her shoulder, offer a gentle pat of encouragement. Instead she took hold of the sheet and whipped it off her body.

Dora swung around and stared at her agog.

“Dora, it’s high time you stopped this pity party and got out of bed!”

“I don’t want to.” Dora grabbed for the sheet and pulled it back over her shoulders.

“I don’t care. I’m telling you I want you up and out of this bed this instant. Do you hear me?”

Dora hadn’t been spoken to like that since she’d been a little girl. She was too stunned to speak. Instead, she turned her back to Mamaw and curled up in a ball and began to cry.

“Oh, Dora,” Mamaw said with exasperation, sitting on the bed beside her.

“I’m so unhappy,” Dora wailed.

“Darling, you passed unhappy miles ago. You’re right at the corner of depressed and downright miserable.”

“I know,” Dora sobbed. “I hate my life, I hate myself. I hate everything.”

Mamaw, unforgivably, laughed.

“It’s not funny,” Dora ground out.

“No, it’s not. But you’re having what my mother would call ‘a case of the vapors.’ Lying in this bed wallowing isn’t helping.”

“I like it here.”

Mamaw stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Dear girl, when I invited you to return to Sea Breeze from the hospital, I intended for you to begin your healing here. If you wanted to stay in bed and wallow, you should have gone home with your mother.”

Dora grunted and curled her legs tighter against her chest.

Mamaw went to the windows and opened the curtains wide, flooding the room with sunshine.

“Look outside, child! There’s the ocean, the beach, the sunlight, the sweet-smelling air—and it’s all just waiting for you. You mustn’t turn your back on it any longer.” She tapped Dora’s shoulder. “Or on me, for that matter. You’re acting like a spoiled child and I won’t have it.”

This was classic Mamaw, coming to the point, not the least afraid of speaking her mind. Honesty was always easier to deal with, and suddenly Dora felt glad Mamaw had come into her room like a ray of sunshine. A bit ashamed of her behavior, Dora rolled over to face Mamaw.

“I feel like such a fool,” she said. “I’ve failed as a wife. As a mother.”

“Of course you haven’t.”

“Haven’t I? My mother certainly thinks I have. I feel like I’ve broken some rule of womanhood. I’ve fallen down and just can’t get myself up. Every time I try, I just fall back again.”

Mamaw’s face softened. “Let me help you.”

Mamaw took Dora’s arm and gently tugged her into a sitting position.

“There. That’s better.” Mamaw stood back and surveyed Dora, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny. “Child, you are one hot mess. When was the last time you washed your hair? And you look so pale. Fair skinned and pale are not the same thing. I know just what you need. Stand up, girl. You heard me. Stand up!”

Dora obliged. She wasn’t one to ignore Mamaw’s order. She slowly stood, a bit off balance from all the time spent lying horizontally, sighing dramatically in a small show of rebellion.

“Good. Now, look at me, Dora.”

Dora slowly, hesitatingly, raised her gaze to meet Mamaw’s. She met Mamaw’s eyes and felt the timeless connection of her grandmother’s gaze.

“Come with me, child.”

Dora didn’t speak but offered her hand to Mamaw while her heart whispered, Yes!

Mamaw took hold of Dora’s hand and led her down the hall to her bedroom. Dora felt like a child, her gaze darting from left to right, not wanting her sisters to see her in this state, as she allowed herself to be herded along. She was aware of Mamaw’s hand in hers, dragging her from the abyss. She didn’t want to let go.

Once in Mamaw’s suite, with the door firmly shut, Dora felt safe. This was Mamaw’s feminine sanctuary—plump chintz chairs, lots of pretty pillows, paintings of the ocean and wetlands, fringe on the curtains.

Mamaw released a slow smile. “There, that’s better. Whenever I feel chewed up and spit out, I take a nice, hot, perfumed bath. It does wonders for my spirit. How does that sound?”

Dora’s face perked up a bit at the suggestion.

“Wonderful.”

“You sit here, dear, while I fill your tub,” Mamaw instructed. “No, no, don’t do a thing, just relax!” she added cheerily, brushing away Dora’s halfhearted effort to help.

Dora sat on the big queen bed, feeling very much a child again as Mamaw disappeared into her bathroom. Dora heard the thunk of the pipes and the gush of water. Shortly after, a sweet scent wafted into the room. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. Roses . . . it was intoxicating. Mamaw came back into the room with a big aqua-colored towel and handed it to Dora.

“Undress,” she ordered. “The bath will take a few minutes to fill. While you wait, drink this.” She handed her a small glass of amber liquid.

“What is it?”

“Rum. Neat. It’s aged and as smooth as a baby’s butt, so enjoy it. But don’t whisper a word of this to Lucille. She’ll have my butt if she finds out I’ve still got a bottle hidden.” She giggled and her eyes shone with triumph. “Behind the toiletries. The small bottle blends right in!”

“But Mamaw, I shouldn’t drink this.” She moved to hand the glass back. “We all agreed. No alcohol.”

Mamaw gently pushed Dora’s hand back. “Precious, this is one thing I’m not worried about with you. None of us are perfect. We don’t need perfection. Balance will do.”

Dora sipped from the glass. The rum was smooth and burned only slightly on the way down, warming her chest. It felt utterly lovely, and, this early in the day, decadent.

She removed the nightgown with lace trim that always made her feel like an old lady. Kicking it across the room, she swore she’d never wear it again. She slipped into Mamaw’s thick terry robe.

Mamaw stepped from the bathroom and called her name.

“Dora! Come, child.”

Dora stepped into a room filled with steam and scent. Mamaw helped remove Dora’s robe and guided her into the steaming tub. It was so hot Dora lowered herself into the water by fractions of an inch, giving her body time to acclimate. Gradually she stretched out and let her body ease fully into the perfumed, bubbly water. She leaned back and let her head rest against a pillow at the edge of the tub. Closing her eyes, she inhaled the steam and felt the tension flow from her body to vanish into the water. She sighed, feeling as though somehow she’d been rescued. The drops on her face were not tears but perspiration.