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Last Light over Carolina, by Mary Alice Monroe
Download PDF Last Light over Carolina, by Mary Alice Monroe
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Last Light Over Carolina
Every woman in the sultry South Carolina low country knows the unspoken fear that clutches the heart every time her man sets out to sea. Now, that fear has become a terrible reality for Carolina Morrison. Her husband, shrimp boat captain Bud Morrison, is lost and alone somewhere in the vast Atlantic fishing grounds, with a storm gathering and last light falling. Over the course of one terrifying, illuminating day, Carolina looks back across thirty years of love and loss, joy and sorrow: How she rejected a well-to-do upbringing to marry Bud and embrace his extraordinary lifestyle by the sea . . . how hard times and loneliness have driven them apart . . . and how, with one mistake, she may have shattered their once-unbreakable bond forever. While their the close-knit community rallies together to search for one of its own, Carolina knows their love must somehow call him home, across miles of rough water and unspeakable memories.
New York Times bestselling author Mary Alice Monroe explores a vanishing feature of the southern coastline, the mysterious yet time-honored shrimping culture, in a compelling tale of a strong woman struggling to prove that love is a light that never dies.
- Sales Rank: #89381 in Books
- Brand: Brand: Pocket Books
- Published on: 2010-06-08
- Released on: 2010-06-08
- Original language: English
- Number of items: 1
- Dimensions: 8.25" h x 1.20" w x 5.31" l, .70 pounds
- Binding: Paperback
- 400 pages
- Used Book in Good Condition
From Publishers Weekly
From the bestselling author of Time Is a River and Swimming Lessons comes a serviceable novel set in present-day coastal South Carolina. The tale follows shrimp boat captain Bud Morrison, and his wife, Carolina, through one eventful day. Despite their ardent love for one another, and how wildly passionate their love affair began, after 33 years of marriage, imprudence, distrust, financial strain and poor communication have clouded their relationship. When Bud's deckhand is a no-show for work, Bud decides to take his boat out alone, despite a fast approaching storm. After he's injured in a boating accident, he begins to reflect on his life and love. Meanwhile, Carolina has had a premonition and spends her day reminiscing about her marriage and analyzing the missteps. Although the story is a frank and easy to relate to look at a long-term marriage, some maudlin passages and uninspired thematic work can make it feel borrowed from a Lifetime movie. (July)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
About the Author
Mary Alice Monroe is the New York Times bestselling author of more than a dozen novels, including The Summer Girls, The Summer Wind, The Summer’s End, Last Light Over Carolina, Time Is a River, Sweetgrass, Skyward, The Beach House, Beach House Memories, Swimming Lessons, The Four Seasons, and The Book Club. Her books have received numerous awards, including the 2008 South Carolina Center for the Book Award for Writing, the 2014 South Carolina Award for Literary Excellence, the 2015 SW Florida Author of Distinction Award, the RT Lifetime Achievement Award, and the International Book Award for Green Fiction. An active conservationist, she lives in the lowcountry of South Carolina. Visit her at MaryAliceMonroe.com and at Facebook.com/MaryAliceMonroe.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
1
September 21, 2008, 4:00 a.m.
McClellanville, South Carolina
For three generations, the pull of the tides drew Morrison men to the sea. Attuned to the moon, they rose before first light to board wooden shrimp boats and head slowly out across black water, the heavy green nets poised like folded wings. Tales of the sea were whispered to them in their mothers' laps, they earned their sea legs as they learned to walk, and they labored on the boats soon after. Shrimping was all they knew or ever wanted to know. It was in their blood.
Bud Morrison opened his eyes and pushed back the thin cotton blanket. Shafts of gray light through the shutters cast a ragged pattern against the wall. He groaned and shifted his weight in an awkward swing to sit at the edge of his bed, head bent, feet on the floor. His was a seaman's body -- hard-weathered and scarred. He scratched his jaw, his head, his belly, a morning ritual, waking slowly in the leaden light. Then, with another sigh, he stiffly rose. His knees creaked louder than the bedsprings, and he winced at aches and pains so old he'd made peace with them. Standing, he could turn his bad knee to let it slip back into place with a small pop.
A salty wind whistled through the open window, fluttering the pale curtains. Bud walked across the wood floor to peer out at the sky. He scowled when he saw shadowy, fingerlike clouds clutching the moon in a hazy grip.
"Wind's blowin'."
Bud turned toward the voice. Carolina lay on her belly on their bed, her head to the side facing an open palm. Her eyes were still closed.
"Not too bad," he replied in a gravelly voice.
She stirred, raising her hand to swipe a lock of hair from her face. "I'll make your breakfast." She raised herself on her elbows, her voice resigned.
"Nah, you sleep."
His stomach rumbled, and he wondered if he was some kind of fool for not nudging his wife to get up and make him his usual breakfast of pork sausage and biscuits. Lord knew his father never gave his mother a day off from work. Or his kids, for that matter. Not during shrimping season. But he was not his father, and Carolina had a bad tooth that had kept her tossing and turning half the night. She didn't want to spend money they didn't have to see the dentist, but the pain was making her hell on wheels to live with, and in the end, she'd have to go anyway.
He'd urged her to go but she'd refused. It infuriated Bud that she wouldn't, because it pointed to his inability to provide basic services for his family. This tore him up inside, a feeling only another man would understand.
They'd had words about it the night before. He shook his head and let the curtain drop. Man, that woman could be stubborn. No, he thought, he'd rather have a little peace than prickly words this morning.
"I'm only going out for one haul," he told her. "Back by noon, latest."
"Be careful out there," she replied with a muffled yawn as she buried her face back into the pillows.
He stole a moment to stare at the ample curves of her body under the crumpled sheet. There was a time he'd crawl back into the scented warmth of the bed he'd shared with Carolina for more than thirty years. Even after all that time, there was something about the turn of her chin, the roundness of her shoulders, and the earthy, fulsome quality of her beauty that still caused his body to stir. Carolina's red hair was splayed out across the pillow, and in the darkness he couldn't see the slender streaks of gray that he knew distressed her. Carolina was not one for hair color or makeup, and Bud liked her natural, so the gray stayed. Lord knew his own hair was turning gray, he thought, running his hand over his scalp as he headed for the bathroom.
Bud took pride in being a clean man. His hands might be scraped, his fingernails broken and discolored, but they were scrubbed. Nothing fancy or scented. He tugged the gold band from his ring finger, then slipped it on a gold chain and fastened it around his neck. He didn't wear his ring on his hand on the boat, afraid it would get caught in the machinery. The cotton pants and shirt he slipped on were scrupulously laundered, but no matter what Carolina tried, she couldn't get rid of the stains. Or the stink of fish. This was the life they'd chosen.
As he brushed his teeth, he thought the face that stared back at him looked older than his fifty-seven years. A lifetime of salt and sea had navigated a deep course across his weathered face. Long lines from the eyes down to his jaw told tales of hard hours under a brutal sun. A quick smile brightened his eyes like sunshine on blue water. Carolina always told him she loved the sweet smell of shrimp on his body. It had taken her years to get used to it, but in time she'd said it made her feel safe. He spat out the toothpaste and wiped his smile with the towel. What a woman his Carolina was. God help him, he still loved her, he thought, tossing the towel in the hamper and cutting off the light.
Carolina's face was dusky in the moonlight. He walked to the bedside and bent to kiss her cheek good-bye, then paused, held in check by the stirring of an old resentment. The distance to her cheek felt too far. Sighing, he drew back. Instead, he lifted the sheet higher over her shoulders. Soundlessly, he closed the door.
He rubbed his aching knee as he made his way down the ancient stairs. The old house was dark, but he didn't need a light to navigate his way through the narrow halls. White Gables had been in Carolina's family since 1897 in a town founded by her ancestors. When they weren't working on the boat, they were working to infuse new life into the aged frame house, repairing costly old woodwork and heart pine floors, fighting an interminable battle against salt, moisture, and termites. His father often chided him about it, telling him it was like throwing more sand on a beach eaten away by a strong current. In his heart, Bud knew the old man was right, but Carolina loved the house and the subject of leaving it was moot. Even in the dim light, he saw evidence of it in the shine of the brass doorknobs, the sparkle of the windows, and the neat arrangement of the inherited threadbare sofa and chairs. Every morning when he walked through the silent old house, he was haunted by the worry that he'd cause Carolina to be the last of her family to live here.
Bud went straight to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He leaned against the cool metal, staring in, searching for whatever might spark his appetite. With a sigh he grabbed a six-pack and shut the door. The breakfast of champions, he thought as he popped open a can of beer. The cool brew slaked his thirst, waking him further. Then he grabbed a few ingredients from the pantry and tossed them in a brown bag: onions, garlic, potatoes, grits, coffee. Pee Dee would cook up a seaman's breakfast later, after the haul. He added the rest of the beer.
At the door he stuck his feet into a pair of white rubber boots, stuffing his pants tightly inside the high rims. The Red Ball boots with their deep-grooved soles and high tops were uniform for shrimpers. They did the job of keeping him sure-footed on a rolling deck and prevented small crabs from creeping in. He rose stiffly, rubbing the small of his back. Working on the water took its toll on a man's body with all the falls, twists, and heavy lifting.
"Stop complaining, old woman," he scolded himself. "The sun won't wait." He scooped up the brown bag from the table, flipped a cap onto his head, and headed out of the house.
The moon was a sliver in the dark sky and his heels crunched loudly along the gravel walkway. Several ancient oaks, older than the house, lined their property along Pinckney Street. Their low-hanging branches lent a note of melancholy.
The air was soft this early in the morning. Cooler. The rise and fall of insects singing in the thick summer foliage sounded like a jungle chorus. He got in his car and drove a few blocks along narrow streets. McClellanville was a small, quaint village along the coast of South Carolina between Charleston and Myrtle Beach. There had once been many similar coastal towns from North Carolina to Florida, back when shrimping was king and a man could make a good living for his family. In his own lifetime, Bud had seen shrimping villages disappear as the value of coastal land skyrocketed and the cost of local shrimp plummeted. Docks were sold and the weathered shrimp boats were replaced by glossy pleasure boats. Local families who'd fished these waters for generations moved on. Bud wondered how much longer McClellanville could hold on.
His headlights carved a swath through the inky darkness, revealing the few cars and pickup trucks of captains and crews parked in the lot. He didn't see Pee Dee's dilapidated Ford. Bud sighed and checked the clock on his dashboard. It was 4:30 a.m. Where the hell was that sorry excuse for a deckhand?
He followed the sound of water slapping against the shore and the pungent smell of diesel fuel, salt, and rotting fish toward the dock. Drawing close, he breathed deep and felt the stirring of his fisherman's blood. He felt more at home here on the ramshackle docks than in his sweet-smelling house on Pinckney Street. Gone were the tourists, the folks coming to buy local shrimp, and the old sailors who hung around retelling stories. In the wee hours of morning, the docks were quiet save for the fishermen working with fevered intensity against the dawn. Lights on the trawlers shone down on the rigging, colored flags, and bright trim, lending the docks an eerie carnival appearance.
His heels reverberated on the long avenue of rotting wood and tilting pilings that ran over mudflats spiked with countless oysters. Bud passed two trawlers -- the Village Lady and the Miss Georgia, their engines already churning the water. He quickened his step. The early bird catches the worm, he thought, lifting his hand in a wave. Buster Gay, a venerable captain and an old mate, returned the wave with his free hand, eyes intent on his work.
There were fewer boats docked every year, d...
Most helpful customer reviews
40 of 44 people found the following review helpful.
Carolina Shrimping
By Amazon Customer
Last Light Over Carolina by Mary Alice Monroe is a salty sea tale of Bud Morrison, a longtime captain of a shrimp boat, and his wife of over 30 years, Carolina Brailsford on the day he suffers a debilitating injury at sea. Over the course of the day, memories of Bud and Carolina reveal the heady first years of their marriage interspersed with the prime of the shrimping industry. As the day unwinds, so does their marriage as the shrimping business takes a hit for the worse with the influx of foreign shrimp.
Carolina is portrayed as intelligent, hardworking, and committed to her marriage. Bud seems to be drawn ever farther away with the Miss Carolina just to make ends meet. Bud and Carolina seem to be a team that thinks it is working together only to be drifting ever farther apart. But through it all the beauty of the ocean and their love for each other will eventually lead them to safe shores.
By the time divorce is considered, I alternately wanted to cheer for Carolina and conk some sense into Bud. The ending is all encompassing and painted on the broad South Carolina shores. I had a big lump in my throat and tears in my eyes with the most satisfying conclusion. There had to be a majestic ending for a story that just gets bigger as it goes along.
Last Light Over Carolina can proudly sit on your shelf with Treasure Island, Kidnapped, Mutiny On The Bounty, and Moby Dick. The story is involving, gritty, dramatic and altogether well written. It is highly readable and memorable and gets my big thumbs up.
17 of 17 people found the following review helpful.
A beautiful homage to lowcountry shirmpers
By CandysRaves (and Rants)
I first found out about this author when I ordered the wrong book. I meant to order The Beach House by James Patterson and instead ordered The Beach House by Mary Alice Monroe. She pulled me into that beautiful book and I've been a fan ever since.
I also grew up near Charleston, so I'm familiar with the area and the traditions. She never ceases to make me remember something. This book was no different. From the talk of Hurricane Hugo (I was 14, it's been nearly 20 years, but I remember almost every detail of those 2 weeks of insanity after it hit) to her uncanny ability to make a specific place a character, she always brings me back.
I now live in Austin and when I start to feel homesick, I know I can pick up her books and be there again. Her description of McClellanville, of the boats, of the smells, of the shrimp, of the people... they all draw you right back to the docks of the coast. The town and the boats - they all became vivid characters for me. I remember driving down to the docks and buying shrimp off the piers as a kid, I remember seeing the men unloading the haul. I remember seeing the boats trawling off of the coast while we were at the beach. My point? This woman has talent!
The book itself is amazing. I found myself laughing, crying, wishing, being angry and then crying all over again. The storyline is a beautiful homage to the lives of the family of shrimpers. It's not an easy life and many don't end well. Bud and Carolina, Josh and Lizzy are proof of that. They are characters, but I bet there are people just like them that could attest to how difficult of a life it can be.
The flashbacks were so well done, following Bud and Caroline's journey - it was the perfect way to do it. The ending left me scared until I realized there was another chapter (oh, thank goodness, there's that bow that I like my stories all tied up with!).
Thank you, Ms. Monroe... for bringing me back to the lowcountry. My momma always taught me to be polite, so really - a heartfelt thank you for your writing. It never ceases to make me feel at home again.
21 of 24 people found the following review helpful.
Another winner from Monroe
By LDG
I have followed Monroe's work for some years and have seen it deepen and mature from book to book. Her sense of place and relationships has always been sure and her depiction of the emotional states of her characters both sensitive and deft. With Last Light Over Carolina, Monroe once again draws attention to issues of vanishing resources and ways of life, describing the life of Shrimpers through both the female and male voice to great effect. She explores the differences between new love and a mature love with penetrating insight and brings each of her characters to a truer understanding of how they are complicit in their own downfall. There is greater suspense in this book about whether Bud and Carolina or Lizzy and Josh with their new-found understanding of themselves and their relationships will have an opportunity to change their lives. I think readers will find the conclusion to Last Light Over Carolina as emotionally satisfying and richly rewarding as the entire read. Pick it up, give it to a friend, tell others--you'll all be happy you did.
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