Sullivans Island-Lowcountry 1 (26 page)

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Authors: Dorothea Benton Frank

Tags: #Fiction, #Domestic Fiction, #General, #Sagas, #Women - South Carolina, #South Carolina, #Mothers and Daughters, #Women, #Sisters, #Sullivan's Island (S.C. : Island), #Sullivan's Island (S.C.: Island)

BOOK: Sullivans Island-Lowcountry 1
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tle girl and you’re a young lady now.”

The awkward moment passed.

“And that makes you feel really old and decrepit, huh? Any-

body want some sour cream? Metamucil, maybe?”

“Old? Decrepit?”Tom was horrified at the thought.

“Not too decrepit to wash your mouth out with soap, young

lady!” I said.

“Like Livvie did to you and your brothers?”

“Honey, she scrubbed our mouths until we spit bubbles.

God, I’ll never use Ivory soap again. I can still taste it when I

think about it.”

“Oh, Mommy! Tell us that story!”

“It was the day I called Aunt Carol a bitch. She had done

something, O Lord, I don’t even remember. Probably told me to

correct my posture or something.Well, I was hanging clothes on

the line with Livvie and I said the evil word under my breath.

Livvie grabbed me by the hand and had me up the steps in two

seconds and my head in the kitchen sink. She turned on the

water, grabbed the soap and with my ponytail in one hand and

the soap in the other, I got religion!

“She said, ‘Ain’t no chile—I don’t care who—ain’t no chile

gone use that kind of talk in this house while I’m here!’

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“God, I cried and spit and cried, but I never said ‘bitch’ in

front of her again.”

“She gave it to everyone, didn’t she?”

“Yep, Uncle Henry ate soap, Uncle Timmy ate soap. Yep,

when she nailed us, here came the suds!”

Beth and Tom were laughing. We were all enjoying our-

selves so much it made me wish for a moment that the dinner

could last forever.Tom refilled my glass with the theatrical flour-

ish of a French sommelier in drag. I toasted him and looked

around the table at the faces before me. We had been a great

family once. A perfect family. Had Tom’s one indiscreet episode

really destroyed that?

Beth insisted on doing the dishes. She filled the sink with

suds while Tom and I cleared the table.

“She’s really great, Susan. I owe all that to you. You’ve

given me a truly magnificent daughter. How can I ever thank

you?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A sack of fifties would help. Here, give

me the napkins.They need to soak. Seriously, you’ve always been

pretty solid behind me in whatever I did with her. I’ll share the

credit with you.”

It was the truth, in all fairness to him. I blew out the candles

and the smoke from the wicks traveled, spiraling through the

darkened room. Now what? I took an arm filled with plates,

flatware and soiled linen to the kitchen.

“How’s it going? Is the spark still there?” Beth whispered to

me over the din of the running water and the ruckus of the storm.

“What kind of spark? Let’s just clean up and we’ll see what

tomorrow brings.”

I dropped the plates into the water, then turned to take the

linens to soak in a tub in the laundry room and to check Tom’s

clothes. She followed me, hissing like the snake tempting Eve.

“Mom! You’re always so impossibly philosophical!”

“No, I’m not. I’m realistic.”

“No, you aren’t! You’re blind! Can’t you see that you have

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

169

a perfect opportunity here to snag Dad? Look, I’m going upstairs

after the dishes are done.Whatever, okay? I’m not coming down-

stairs unless the roof does. Got the message?”

“Yeah, I got it. Look, let your father and me try to work

things out. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, Beth.Things

aren’t always as simple as they appear on the surface.”

“There you go again. Just try, Mom.Try for me. For us.”

She gave me a hug and hurried back to the dishes. I needed

to talk to Maggie and fast. I couldn’t trust my reserve and judg-

ment after half a bottle of red wine. I picked up the cordless wall

phone in the kitchen and dialed her number. Then I buried

myself in the laundry room, pulling the louvered door tight.

“Maggie?” I whispered.

“Who’s this?”

“It’s me. Susan.”

“What’s wrong? Why are you talking like this? Are y’all all

right?”

“Yes! No! I mean, yes, we’re fine! I don’t want to be overheard.

Listen, I need your advice.” I remembered I was calling her in the

middle of a hurricane.“Y’all okay? The storm, I mean.”

“Oh, yeah, we’re fine.The lights flickered a little while ago

but the power’s still holding.What’s going on?”

“Good, good.Tom’s here.”

“What? How did he get in?”

“Beth let him in. I come home, after another episode with

that good-for-nothing cur Mitchell, and find him ’eah, waiting

on me, in my own house.”

“Have you had anything to drink? You sound a little tipsy.”

“Yeah, Gawd. Been nursing a bottle of grapes with that

man. Listen up, now. First he shows up ’eah with a bag of fulla

filet mignon from Harris Teeter and an ’82 merlot.”

“Go on! Tom? Tom Hayes? That cheap sumbitch? You lie.”

“I swear on Saint Peter’s holy ring.Then he close up all the

shutters to the south side of the house, up on a ladder in the

pouring rain.”

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“Better check he head for scarlet fever.”

“Oh, do chile, that ain’t de only fever he got. He hot for ya

sister now! Red hot! I got Don Juan ’eah.Tell me what!”

“I can’t be telling you nothing. You is grown! But, iffin I

was you, I’d be mighty careful.”

“What you mean, careful? He out there in my pink bathrobe,

strutting like the NBC peacock!”

“What you say? Bathrobe? Oh, Lord, my sister done lose she

mind! Y’all? Mind done left she head.”

I started giggling and couldn’t stop.

“I thinking you be taking a little nip of Oh Be Joyful you-

self, ’eah?”

“What you gone do in a storm, ’eah? Jack Daniel be on the

front porch, rocking with my husband and Maybelline, but I’m

in ’eah talking fool with you! What you gone do? Give ’im back

he pant or put him in the bed?”

“I ain’t be for know.”

“Then don’t be asking me,” she said. She paused and I heard

the ice tinkle against her crystal glass.“Iffin that man was mine,

first, I beat he behind good. Then when he real sorry, I mean,

sorry for true, I might let him, you know, get he wish.”

“Oh, do chile, you is bad and you ain’t no help, ’eah? I gots

to hang up.Y’all all right?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I was sitting on the floor at this point. I pushed the discon-

nect button and sighed in complete confusion. Suddenly,Tom’s

hand opened the door, and there I was. Busted. He was biting

his hand to keep from laughing. He’d heard every word.

“My pants dry yet?”

“Do you want them right now?” I was thoroughly

embarrassed.

“Well, actually, maybe not. Maybe never. I like this robe.

New image, all that. How’s Maggie?”

“Fine. Great. Fine.”

He offered me a hand and helped me up. It was the first time

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

171

we had touched in months. It felt like the hand of a friend, which

made it impossible to resist him when he pulled me against his

chest.Then, he kissed me. In the midst of this reunion, we heard a

thunderous crash, and the lights went out.

“What the hell was that?” I mumbled.

“Who cares? Did you feel the house move?”

“I’m not sure. Better check Beth.”

“Right.”

We dropped our arms from around each other and took a

breath. It was as black as pitch and we couldn’t see a thing.

“Flashlight?”

“Yeah, right here in this drawer.”

“Pants?”

“Hold on a minute.” I reached in the dryer for his damp clothes

and he put them on in a hurry. I handed him a flashlight and took

another for myself.We hurried down the dark hall to the steps.

“Beth?” I yelled up the stairs.

“What was that?” she called back.“Did you hear that?”

“Dunno. Stay there, I’ll bring you a flashlight!” Tom called

up to her.“You all right?”

“I’m fine.”

He took my light and gave it to her.

“Come on down, honey, until we can see what that was,” I

said.

“Y’all go sit in the living room,” Tom said, “and I’ll have a

look around.”

“Tom?”

“Yeah?”

I reached out for his arm.“Be careful.”

“Don’t worry. I think the damage has already been done.”

The understatement of the night.

A few minutes passed. By then I realized the house had

been hit by something and I began guessing how much damage

there was while at the same time thanking God that none of us

were hurt. Beth sat close to me on the couch. We could see

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flashes of lightning through the shutters and the thunder con-

tinued to boom all around.

At last we heard Tom coming down the stairs.

“We’ve got company on the third floor. I need a mop, some

towels and some big garbage bags.”

“What happened?”

“Branch came through a window into the guest room.

There’s a helluva mess up there, but it’s too dark to clean it all

up. I’m gonna run for the saw and cut the limb, then just cover

the window with plastic so the rain won’t keep coming in. It’s

not fatal.”

“You were right, we should’ve closed the third-floor shutters.”

“Who knew? I’ll be right back.”

I held the flashlight and Beth followed me upstairs with the

mop, towels and bags. When I opened the door to the room I

couldn’t believe what I was seeing. A live oak branch, six feet

long, complete with Spanish moss, had invaded our house. The

curtains, their swag and the rod were ripped from the wall and

hanging from the branch. The window and its frame were

destroyed. It would be tomorrow before I could assess the dam-

age, but under my feet I felt pieces of bark, small twigs and soak-

ing wet carpet.The wind and rain just kept coming through the

hole in the wall.

“Some mess, huh?”Tom was behind me now.

“I never imagined one branch could cause so much dam-

age,” I said quietly.

“That’s not the half of it; the rest of the tree is lying against

the house. Too much rain this summer, probably loosened the

roots. Better have the foundation checked and the support

beams. Here, you hold the light and I’ll saw the branches away.

Beth, try to pick up what you can, I know it’s dark, but let’s try,

okay?”

“But, Daddy, this is terrible! We could’ve been killed if we’d

been in here!” She began to cry. I put my arm around her for a

moment. I had to admit I felt like crying myself.

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

173

“Beth, this is no time to start crying. Buck up, baby. Let’s

help Daddy, okay? Later we can all have a good cry together.”

When silence came we knew the eye of the storm had

arrived. We stopped our work for a moment to go outside and

look at Queen Street.The three of us—the Wise Men, the Holy

Family, the Three Stooges, the Ricardos—to think “the three of

us” made me giddy with pleasure. The three of us opened the

front door and held our breath. Our front yard was covered with

limbs.To the left we saw the top of the oak tree peeking around

the edge of our house. Clouds swept across the new moon,

which would surely bring flooding.Tom and I stepped out onto

the walkway.

“Stay there for a moment, Beth. Let us just see that it’s safe

to come out.”

She nodded her head and rubbed her arms as though

chilled. In a flash I wondered if she was dramatizing to make

Tom see that she needed him. But, admitting the fallen tree had

frightened me as well, I linked my arm through Tom’s and cau-

tiously, in the light rain, we went to do a quick investigation

before the back side of the storm arrived.

The street was littered with every kind of article you could

imagine, from garbage cans smashed into windshields, to a rock-

ing chair hanging precariously from a tree. Palmettos lay across

the flooded roads. Wires hung down from every building in

sight.The silence was eerie.

Carefully, we made our way around the house to see the

tree.There it was—huge, uprooted and lying on the side of our

house. I could only guess what the cost of repairs would be.

“Good thing I closed the shutters. Can you imagine if I

hadn’t done anything?”

“Next time use duct tape instead.” Gallows humor.

“Very funny. Like it would’ve made a difference. Let’s go

finish up.”

Tom finally cut away enough of the branch so that we could

cover the window with garbage bags to keep the rain out. I took

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D o r o t h e a B e n t o n F r a n k

the spreads off the twin beds and pulled the curtains all into bags

to take to the cleaners in the morning. Beth had disappeared

downstairs. It seemed that the strength of the storm was finally

dissipating.

“I’ve gotta wash my hands,” Tom said. “Think there’s any-

thing else around here for me to put on besides your bathrobe?

I’m soaked again.”

“Yeah, me too. I think I’ve got some old sweats that might

do the trick. I’ll bring them to you.”

We were curiously quiet, the two of us. As we changed this

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