Lessons of a Lowcountry Summer (4 page)

Kendall lowered his head. It was a full minute before he pushed off the bed and left Hope's bedroom. Without a word, he opened the front door and walked out of Hope's life.

 

 

H
ope had set up
a lunch reservation with the program manager of Atlanta talk radio station WLKV at Londel's Supper Club. Over a pre-lunch cocktail, Derrick Landry outlined the talk show's call-in format to her.

She touched a corner of her cloth napkin to her mouth. “When is your projected broadcast date?”

Derrick dropped his gaze. “October eighth.”

Hope studied the features of the very attractive black man in his early sixties. His lightweight wool suit had been tailored to fit his tall, slim body to perfection. She hadn't missed the admiring female glances directed at him when the maitre d' had shown him to her table.

“I may not be available to start. To be honest, I'm not certain whether I'll be able to accept the offer. I may have to undergo a surgical procedure around that time.”

“When will you know for certain?”

“I have a follow-up visit with my doctor October first.”

“If you do have the surgery, how soon will it be before you will be able to resume your normal activities?”

She shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe three to four weeks.”

“I'll have to relay this news to my boss, then I'll get back to you with his decision.”

Hope pulled a business card from her purse and handed it to Derrick. “You can contact me by phone or e-mail.”

Nodding, Derrick slipped the card into the breast pocket of his jacket. “What do you recommend for dessert?”

She smiled at him. It was apparent he wasn't going to brood about her reluctance to commit to his station's proposal.

“Warm bread pudding with a caramel sauce.”

“It sounds wonderful. What are you having?”

“Nothing, thank you. I'm going to pass on dessert.”

Derrick angled his head. “But you hardly touched your food.”

“I don't have much of an appetite.”

And she didn't—not since the day Kendall had come to her. Hope had told herself to get over Kendall's deception, but she couldn't. He was a man she had fallen in love with, planned to marry. Several times a week she woke up sobbing into her pillow. There were times when she stayed in bed most of the day, unable to motivate herself to eat or change her clothes. Forcing herself to read and answer letters had become a monumental task.

She missed Kendall. Missed his companionship, missed sharing a bed and her body with him. He'd filled up the empty spaces in her life.

A waiter took Derrick's dessert selection, and twenty minutes later they stood at a corner on Frederick Douglass Boulevard, hailing a taxi to take him back to his Midtown hotel. Hope shook his hand, then watched as he got into the taxi. She waited until the taxi pulled out into the flow of traffic before she turned and headed back to her apartment.

Like an aging, celebrated actress getting Botox injections, Harlem was undergoing a face-lift. Every week more and more pale faces blended with the black and brown ones eating in restaurants, attending church services, enrolling in schools, and riding the subway and buses downtown to towering office buildings. One young white couple with two children and a biracial couple with a child on the way had purchased the last two remaining abandoned brownstones on her block. The changes on One-Two-Five Street were phenomenal. Major store chains had set up shop to offer goods and services to the residents of the historically black neighborhood.

A black-owned bookstore had recently opened its doors, and Hope had made it a habit to frequent it at least once a week. Every time she perused the self-help section, she thought about writing her own book based on the letters published in her “Straight Talk” column. She usually dismissed the idea because she did not have the time to devote to writing a book.

Now that she wasn't seeing Kendall she had time—lots of it. She had time, and she owned property on McKinnon Island. Her pace quickened, her step lighter as she turned down the block leading to her brownstone apartment building.

She wasn't impulsive by nature, but within seconds she knew what she had to do to heal her mind while she waited for her body to heal. She would spend this summer on McKinnon Island.

 

Marissa Sutton-Baker
met Hope as she parked her rental car behind a row of others lining the driveway at their parents' Teaneck, New Jersey, home. She stuck her head through the open driver's side window. “Where's Kendall?”

Hope removed the key from the ignition. “He's not coming.”

Straightening and stepping back, Marissa folded her hands on her hips. She watched Hope get out of the midsize Toyota. “Why not?”

“I'm not seeing him anymore.”

“But… but aren't you engaged?”

Shaking her head, Hope curved her arm through her sister's and walked around the house to the backyard patio, where their father sat with their mother and several aunts. “I broke off the engagement. Close your mouth, Marissa,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Get the fuck outta here!”

“Watch your language, Rissa,” Patrick Sutton warned, lines of frustration creasing his forehead. He couldn't understand why his daughter couldn't speak without using profanity.

Marissa frowned at her father. “Remember, I'm grown, Daddy.”

“Then act grown and responsible, baby daughter. After all, there are children here. They hear enough foul language in the street without hearing more from family.”

Hope squeezed Marissa's hand as her sister rolled her eyes at their father. Of the four Sutton offspring, Marissa had been the rebel and most difficult to control. She had spent more than half her childhood banished to her room, where she'd passed the time reading poetry and writing in her many journals.

“Let me say hello to Daddy, then I'll meet you in my old room.”

Hope kissed all the women at the table, then went over to her father. Leaning over, she kissed his clean-shaven cheek. His light brown eyes sparkled like citrines. She had inherited her mother's coloring and body type and her father's clear brown eyes.

“Congratulations, Daddy. You made it.” Her father had retired as postmaster at the Wyckoff, New Jersey, post office.

Smiling, Patrick Sutton curved an arm around her waist. “Thanks, Hope.” His smile faded. “You still losing weight?”

“A little.” It was a lie. Over the past two-and-a-half-weeks she had lost twelve pounds. She now weighed one hundred fifty-eight pounds. When she graduated high school she'd weighed more than that.

“Don't get too thin,” he warned softly. It was a known fact that Patrick liked women with a lot of flesh on their bones. “Where's your boyfriend?”

“I'll never be thin, and Kendall couldn't make it.” Reaching into her shoulder bag, she took out an envelope. “Here's a little something to help keep you in shape.”

Patrick took the envelope and opened it, his eyes widening in surprise. “Well, I'll be.”

“What did you get?” asked one of his sisters-in-law.

“A gift certificate for golf clubs.” He stared at Hope. “How did you know I wanted a set?”

“Mama.”

Patrick stared across the table at the woman whom he had married forty-two years ago, and smiled the dimpled smile that had enchanted her the first time they'd met. Hope straightened. Her many nieces and nephews were having fun splashing in the pool the elder Suttons had had installed the summer before. Their parents lay on webbed chaises under the protective covering of large umbrellas, dozing or talking quietly to one another.

“I'm going inside for a few minutes.”

Flora Sutton frowned at her eldest daughter. “Why don't you get something to eat first? I made your favorite—fried ribs.”

“I'll eat later, Mama.” And she would. She would fill up on her mother's wonderful Gullah dishes before driving south to McKinnon Island.

“You're wasting away to nothing.”

Hope smiled as she made her way toward the house. There was no pleasing her family. First she was too heavy, now she was too thin. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimmed coolness of the house, then climbed the staircase to the second story. She found Marissa in her childhood bedroom, sitting on a cushioned window seat.

Marissa patted the cushion beside her. “Sit down, Big Sis.”

Hope complied, staring at the pattern on the area rug. “I broke up with Kendall because I found out that he's bisexual.” She told Marissa what she had witnessed and the subsequent meeting with Kendall when he'd come to her apartment.

Her sister launched into a string of explosive expletives that shocked Hope, who thought she had heard it all. “I knew it,” Marissa said angrily. “I knew there was something wrong with him last year when the two of you came here for the Fourth of July cookout. He couldn't take his gaze off Trey when he came out of the house wearing his swim trunks. His eyes lasered in on my man's johnson like he was a piece of ass.”

“Why didn't you say something?”

Marissa sucked her teeth. “Do you think you would've believed me? You probably would've accused me of being jealous.” Her glare dared Hope to refute the accusation.

“You're wrong, Marissa.” The softness of Hope's words belied her rising annoyance.

“We've always disagreed about men.”

“That's because we have a different perception of who we want as lovers or life partners.”

“Trey may not have a college degree or wear designer labels to work, but he's still better than that freak you've been sleeping with.”

Marissa's words revived the pain Hope had tried to exorcise. She loved Marissa, but her sister's tongue was a weapon.

“Trey not having a college education never bothered me, Marissa. His insecurities and not wanting you to get your degree does.”

Marissa's eyes filled with tears. “I know that, and I don't care, because I'm going back in the fall. I need to feel as if I've accomplished something other than being a stay-at-home wife and mother. I'm not Mama.” Shifting slightly, she curved her arms around Hope's neck. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did about you sleeping with a freak.”

Hope hugged her sister back. “Kendall's not a freak. He's just confused.”

“I don't believe you. How can you be so calm and understanding?”

“I've treated many clients who are conflicted about their sexuality. As to being calm—I have to be, or I would put a serious hurting on him.”

Marissa pulled back, eyes wide in surprise. “You were thinking about hurting him?”

“Big time.”

“You should've called me. I would've had Trey page a few of his dawgs from 'round the way who've spent more time in jail than out. They would've given Kendall an instant sex change without benefit of anesthesia or a scalpel.”

Throwing back her head, Hope laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. She could always count on Marissa to make her laugh.

“Have you had yourself tested?”

The question sobered Hope immediately. She met Marissa's direct stare. “Yes. It came back negative.” Even though Kendall said he hadn't slept with his lover, she knew she would not relax until she'd taken the test.

Marissa smiled her attractive, dimpled smile. “Good for you. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you. I love you, Hope.”

“And I love you, too, Little Sis.” She glanced over her sister's shoulder. “I'm going away for the summer.”

“Where to?”

“McKinnon Island.”

“Why?”

Hope let out an audible sigh. “I need to get away and relax, unwind. I've been toying with the idea of writing a book based on the letters I've received for ‘Straight Talk.' I know I'll never write it if I stay here. There are too many distractions. The island will give me the solitude I need.”

“What about your column?”

“I'll continue with the column. I've submitted enough responses to run until the end of September.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Tonight.”

“Is that why you're driving a rental?”

Hope nodded. “Yes. I'll drive until I get tired, then I'll stop and check into a motel. I've packed my laptop and a printer, so we can always communicate by cell phone or e-mail.”

“Are you certain you're not running away from yourself?”

“No. What I'm probably doing is trying to find myself. I'm thirty-eight, unmarried, and childless. I need to discover who I am and what I want. I know you, Junior and Bobby never liked spending the summers on McKinnon, but I've always loved it.”