Lessons of a Lowcountry Summer (9 page)

At the supermarket she gathered organic steaks and hamburger patties, bottled juices, and dairy products. She paid for her purchases, loaded the trunk of her rental car, then drove across the causeway to wait for the ferryboat.

As she maneuvered her car onto the ferryboat, she noticed that a black Lexus SUV bore South Carolina plates. Normally she would've left her car to stand at the rail to watch vehicles and passengers board and disembark at each island, but not in today's stormy weather.

The rear doors to the Lexus opened, and two young black men wearing baseball caps, T-shirts, shorts, and deck shoes stood at the railing and pointed as Hilton Head Island came into view.

 

“Thankfully the rain stopped.”
Rebecca placed a large wicker basket on a chair in Hope's kitchen. “I kept listening to the radio, waiting to be told that we would have to evacuate.”

Hope removed a small dish of sliced lemons from the refrigerator. “We would have to have a lot more wind and rain before that happens.” She spied the picnic basket. “What on earth did you bring?”

A mysterious smile curved Rebecca's mouth. “Oh, just a little something.”

Rebecca's little something turned out to be ruby tea biscuits filled with red jam. She'd also brought an exquisite porcelain tea set emblazoned with tiny violet flowers. Hope watched as she placed the pot and matching cups and saucers on the white linen tablecloth. Reaching into the basket, she pulled out two sterling place settings and matching serving pieces.

Hope was impressed. When she'd asked Rebecca to join her for afternoon tea, she hadn't thought it would be comparable to high tea at Buckingham Palace. “Everything is so elegant.”

Flashing her dimpled smile, Rebecca curtsied. “I'd like to think of us as McKinnon's Sophie Ladies.”

“Sophie Ladies?”

Rebecca sobered. “This summer you and I will become the island's Sophisticated Ladies. But only during high tea, madam.”

Hope laughed. “I like you, Rebecca. You've got lots of class.”

Hazel eyes shimmered with excitement. “Why, thank you, Hope.” The famous Dr. Hope Sutton thought she had class, while her mother-in-law viewed her as a gauche interloper from the North whose family pedigree boasted factory and mill workers, day laborers, and civil servants. Rebecca was the first Leighton to graduate from college.

She had gone to Hilton Head earlier that morning to shop and had stopped in a gift shop to look for items she could send back to Charleston for her parents and children. She'd spied the tea set and hadn't been able to resist buying it. After she'd told the shopkeeper she planned to have afternoon tea with a friend while summering on McKinnon, the woman had suggested she add the sterling silver place settings.

She glanced around the kitchen. “This place is lovely. It's a lot more modern than where I'm staying.”

“That's because I had it done over.”

Rebecca's eyes widened. “You're not renting?”

“No. I inherited this house and the surrounding property from my grandparents.” There was half an acre behind the house that led into the woods, where her grandparents had kept their livestock and tended a vegetable garden.

“Please tell me about your family.”

Over several cups of lemon verbena tea and jam-filled tea biscuits served on a warm plate, Hope wove a mesmerizing tale of the summers she had spent on McKinnon as a child. Rebecca listened, enthralled. She envied Hope and the time she'd spent with her brothers and sister. She had become an only child at nine after her younger sister had died in a hit-and-run accident.

“I remember the first time I helped my grandmother cook chitlins.”

Rebecca grimaced. “I'd eat chitterlings if I could get past the smell.”

Hope arched an eyebrow. “Oh no, you didn't call them chit-ter-lings, girlfriend.”

“Isn't that what they are?”

“Not!” Hope stated emphatically. “Down here they're
chitlins.”
She peered closely at Rebecca. “Do you have
any
Southern roots?”

A rush of color darkened Rebecca's cheeks. “I don't think so.”

“Where are you from?”

“Lowell, Massachusetts.”

“How many generations?”

“At least six.”

Hope shook her head. “That's a shame, Yankee girl. If you intend to spend the summer on McKinnon, then get ready for an infusion of Gullah culture and language.”

Throwing back her head, Rebecca laughed until tears rolled down her cheeks. It had been a long time since she had really laughed without constraints. Picking up a napkin, she dabbed her eyes. Before she'd married Lee, before she had become a mother, she'd laughed all the time. When had her life become so serious?

“When I got off the ferryboat yesterday, I asked a man how to get to Beach Road, but I couldn't understand a word he said,” she confessed.

“He probably said, ‘Down yondah' and pointed in the direction of the ocean.”

“That's the only word I understood.”

Hope gave Rebecca a basic course on the Gullah language. She told of the annual gatherings in Beaufort, on Hilton Head, and on Georgia's Sapelo Island that celebrated a fading language and way of life. They talked until the pot of tea cooled and nightfall blanketed McKinnon.

Hope offered her neighbor a quick tour of the small, three-bedroom house. “My grandmother and great-grandmother pieced all of the quilts.”

Rebecca fingered a faded, multicolored quilt covering an iron bed in the smaller of the bedrooms. It was stitched together using various colors and fabrics. “It's beautiful.” Her attention was directed to a trio of small round baskets on a table under a window. She peered inside. They were filled with dried flowers and herbs.

“Those baskets and all of the others in the house were woven here on the island.”

Rebecca gave Hope a direct stare. “Who wove them?”

“I don't remember who in particular, but I'm certain some of the older women still make sweetgrass baskets.”

“Can you introduce me to them?” Rebecca did not feel comfortable enough to seek them out on her own because she did not understand their Gullah dialect.

“Do you want to buy some?”

“No. I want to learn how to weave them.”

Hope stared at her new friend. Rebecca had come to McKinnon Island wearing raw silk and expensive jewelry, had purchased sterling silver pieces and a Sevres tea set for their afternoon tea, yet she wanted to learn to weave baskets like her African ancestors.

“Give me a few days to find out who would be willing to give you lessons, then I'll let you know. Anything else you'd like to learn to do while you're here?”

“How to quilt by hand.”

“I'll ask about both.”

Rebecca smiled again. “Thanks, girlfriend.”

Hope returned her smile. “You're quite welcome, girlfriend.”

After Rebecca left, Hope retreated to the bedroom, where she had set up her temporary office. She plugged her laptop into a telephone outlet and checked her e-mail. There were three new messages.

Hope read Derrick Landry's from WLKV:

 

Hope, The show's producer has decided to push back the broadcast launch for “Straight Talk” to accommodate your full medical recovery. Please advise as to a tentative start date. Cordially, Derrick.

 

The second one was from Lana, wishing her well.

The third was from Kendall:

 

Hi, Baby. I hope you are well. Miss you. Love, KC.

 

Hope shook her head.
Sorry, KC, I don't do threesomes.

With a click of the mouse, she deleted his message.

She answered Lana's and Derrick's e-mails, then inserted a new disk and began outlining the topics she wanted to cover in her book. It was after two when she finally turned off the computer and readied herself for bed.

 

 

T
heodore Howell mounted
the half dozen steps to the wraparound porch and unlocked the front door. Jeff, a native New Yorker who now made his home in Los Angeles, had built a vacation home on a South Carolina Sea Island reminiscent of a Louisiana Lowcountry plantation-style house. The smell of freshly hewn wood was redolent in the air. The interior smelled new.

He smiled. Foul-mouthed and at times irascible, his agent had made good on his promise to assist him in completing the pilot. Jeff had arranged for a private jet to fly him and his family to Savannah, Georgia. It had been raining when the jet had touched down, and less than an hour later they had been on their way to the landing to wait for the ferryboat to take them to McKinnon Island. Luggage for five had taken up most of the cargo space in the SUV, and that had meant he and Helen would have to return to Savannah to shop for enough food to last at least two weeks. He flipped a wall switch near the door, and warm, gold light from sconces mounted on walls and columns separating the living and dining rooms brightened the gloomy interiors.

Turning, Theo met the curious gazes of his brothers and sister. “Chris, I want you and Brandon to unload the truck and put everyone's bags in their room. Then get out of those wet clothes.” They had preferred standing out in the rain during the ferryboat ride to McKinnon. He smiled at Noelle. “If you want, you can come with me and Miss Helen.”

Noelle stared at Theo, her expression impassive. “Where are you going?”

“Back to Savannah to shop for groceries.”

She pushed back the hood to her bright yellow slicker and rearranged her braided hair.

“No, thanks.”

He gave her a narrowed look. His sister had been unusually quiet during the coast-to-coast flight. She hadn't eaten any of the food served by the flight attendants, and she had spent the time either sleeping or listening to her disc player.

“Suit yourself. I expect you to have all of your clothes put away before we come back.” He directed his attention to his brothers, who were checking out the stereo equipment behind the doors of a massive armoire. “Chris, you're in charge. And I should not have to remind you that I don't want strange kids in the house when I'm not here.”

Christian gave Theo an incredulous look. “You're buggin'.”

“I may be buggin' but the rule still stands, Mr. Personality.” Christian's grin was sheepish. There was something about the seventeen-year-old's personality that was infectious. He made friends easily, and girls were drawn to him like a moth to a light. He had a deep voice and a smile sensual enough to make older women forget his youth.

“Which room is ours again?” Brandon asked. He was to share a room with his brother in one of the two first-floor bedrooms, while Theo would take the other.

“You and Chris get the one in the back.”

Jeff had explained the layout of the house to Theo. Two bedrooms with adjoining full baths, sitting and dressing rooms took up the entire second floor. Two guest bedrooms were on the first floor. The one in the rear of the house was larger than the one in a wing off the kitchen, which faced southeast and afforded a view of the ocean and unlimited daylight.

Theo took a quick tour of the spacious house while the boys unloaded the bags from the SUV. The house and what he had seen of the island were ideal for his work. He knew Helen would be more than pleased with the large, state-of-the-art kitchen. Each bedroom had a fireplace, and the French and Colonial furnishings were in keeping with the house's eighteenth-century design.

The seating arrangement in the family room, with angled sofa, chairs, and a love seat, was more appealing than if the furniture had been positioned parallel to the walls. French doors and mullioned windows let in light despite the cloudy, rainy weather.

Theo walked out to the porch and found Helen waiting for him. “How do you like it?”

Helen stared out at the mist above a copse of oak trees shrouded with soggy Spanish moss. The rain was tapering off. “It's not me, Theo, but those kids.”

“You don't think they'll like it here?”

Shifting, she stared at her employer. Theodore did not have a clue. She might not have had any children, but she was aunt to enough nieces and nephews to know something about children. “It's too remote. Will there be other kids their age to interact with? How long will it be before they become bored?”

“I don't know and I can't think about that now.”

He wanted to tell Helen that the money he would earn for writing the pilot and scripts would generate enough income so that he would not have to accept another project for the next five years. And he needed to devote the next five years to his siblings. In five years Christian and Brandon would have graduated college and Noelle would be entering college. Brandon, a student in an accelerated academic track who had advanced a grade, was now a high school senior along with Christian.

Cradling an arm under Helen's elbow, Theo escorted her to the Lexus. Waiting until she was seated and belted in, he rounded the vehicle and took his seat behind the wheel. Glancing at the porch before turning on the ignition, he saw his brothers and sister standing together. They were watching him.

Suddenly it hit him! He was all they had. They were watching him leave, wondering if he would come back or vanish within seconds, like their parents. He turned the key but did not shift into gear. Seconds later, he opened the door and walked back to the porch. He was met with three quizzical stares.

“Come on.”

Uncertainty filled Christian's gaze. He and Brandon had changed their clothes. “I thought you said we had to unpack.”

Theo smiled. “You have the rest of the summer to unpack. We'll eat out, then we'll shop for food.”

“Hot damn,” Christian whispered, while Brandon led Noelle to the Lexus.

Theo curved an arm around Christian's neck, holding him in a tight embrace. “You are going to have to watch your mouth when the ladies are present, brother.”

“What ladies?”

“Miss Helen and Noelle.”

“Noelle's a girl.”

Theo tightened his grip. “She's a lady, Chris, and I want you to respect her. You're her role model when it comes to selecting a boy she'd like to date. And if she's used to hearing profanity, then she won't be repulsed by it.”

“Are you really that lame, Theo? I've read stories about you dating four honeys at the same time. And I used to say to myself, ‘Man, he's got it goin' on.' But after living with you, I don't know what to think.”

“They were just stories.”

“Are you saying you don't get
none?” Christian asked in a
low voice.

Theo dropped his arm and angled his head. “If you're asking if I sleep with women, then the answer is yes, but never two, three or four at one time. I've always had a problem keeping names straight, so I decided it's easier to sleep with one woman at a time. And always with a condom. Remember, going out with a woman doesn't mean you have to sleep with her.” A slight smile curved his mouth. “But, I must confess that I haven't had any female companionship since you guys came to live with me.”

Christian managed to look embarrassed. It was the first time he and Theo had discussed sex. “What are you going to do? Wait for Noelle to move out before you get a girlfriend? By that time you'll be so old you'll forget how to do it.”

Theo laughed, and so did Christian. “It's like riding a bike. You never forget. But, on a more serious note, I will not bring a woman into the house as long as any of you live with me.”

“That's old school, man. I know kids whose mothers bring men home after their fathers move out.”

“I'm very conservative about certain things because I was raised by my grandmother, not
our
mother.”

Christian's brows drew downward in a frown. “What was up with that?”

It was apparent Mary hadn't told his siblings about her life before she met and married James Anderson. “I'll tell you about it one of these days.”

Theo knew the day of reckoning could not be avoided forever. Brandon, Noelle and Christian had known that they had a much older brother, but what Mary had neglected to tell them was that she had waited more than two decades to acknowledge and reconcile with her firstborn. On his thirtieth birthday, Theo had called Mary, and they had had a mother-son talk for the first time in their lives. He'd thought turning thirty had precipitated the telephone call, but it wasn't until after he had hung up that he'd realized it had been because he missed his grandmother, whom he had buried two months before. It was as if he'd had to connect with somebody—anybody with whom he shared blood.

“When?”

“Before we leave here. Now, let's go. I want to get back before the last ferryboat pulls out.”

In the six months he had lived with Theo, Christian had learned enough about his older brother to know when to concede—except the night when L.A.'s finest escorted him and Brandon home. After the first slap from Theo, he realized it was dangerous to open his mouth before he engaged his brain. A couple puffs of weed had left him temporarily insane. Once his head cleared the following morning, he swore he'd never physically challenge Theo again, because if he slapped that hard, he did not want to find out how hard he could punch.

 

Theo stared at Noelle
across the table, flanked in the booth by Helen and Brandon. They had arrived only minutes before a large crowd had gathered outside the door to Johnny Harris, the city's oldest restaurant.

“Have you decided what you want?”

She did not glance up from the menu in front of her. “I'm not hungry.”

“But you haven't eaten anything all day, sweetheart,” Helen crooned.

Noelle pushed out her lower lip. “I
said
I am not hungry.” She had spoken through her teeth.

“Noelle!” Theo raised his voice, and diners from a nearby table turned in their direction. He closed his eyes and covered his mouth with his right hand. His sister continued to push buttons he never knew he had. He opened his eyes and lowered his hand. “Please apologize to Miss Helen.”

Noelle glared at him. “What did I say?”

“It's not what you said, but how you said it.”

“Apologize, Ellie,” Christian said, using his pet name for his sister. He could feel the tension coming from Theo.

Tears flooded Noelle's eyes, and she bit down hard on her lower lip. “I'm sorry, Miss Helen,” she said after a long silence.

The pink color on Helen's cheeks began to fade. “Apology accepted.”

Noelle perused the menu again, then said, “I'll have the broiled lobster, if it's not too expensive.” There was no price next to the selection.

“Don't worry about the price,” Theo said. “Just order whatever it is you want.”

Brandon closed his menu. “If that's the case, then I'll have the lobster, too.”

“Hey. I'll take one also,” Christian chimed in.

Theo sighed. James and Mary Anderson had indulged their children beyond their financial limitations. Mary rarely cooked, preferring instead to dine in expensive restaurants. She thought nothing of pulling her children out of school to accompany their father on location, where she utilized the services of tutors hired by movie studios for their child actors. At first it was a novelty for the young Andersons to visit major cities and foreign countries, but as they'd grown older and formed friendships with their schoolmates, they'd begun to balk at leaving home. Mary had continued to accompany her husband, and when she had she'd left her three children in the care of a fulltime housekeeper.

Theo studied the menu. “We'll order four lobsters, mussels in a butter sauce, crusty fried oyster, and soft-shell crabs.”

Noelle wrinkled her nose. “I don't like oysters.”

“She never ate them,” Brandon volunteered.

Theo looked at Brandon under lowered lids. “If she says she doesn't like oysters, then she doesn't have to eat them.”

Noelle smiled for the first time in days. “Thanks, Theo.”

“How about the fried frog legs?” Helen asked. The response was a chorus of yucks from the others at the table.

A waiter came to take their order.

The food lived up to the restaurant's fabled reputation as all conversation ended and everyone concentrated on eating everything on their plates.

“What's the damage?” Brandon asked after the waiter placed the check on the table. Everyone had eaten so much that they found it hard to move out of the booth.

Theo picked up the itemized bill, barely glancing at the total. “Are you paying, Brandon?”