Sullivans Island-Lowcountry 1 (39 page)

ago, or something terrible. Timmy find she on the floor when

he go to take she supper and Miss MC call the doctor.They is in

there now. Your uncle is on the way.”

“Oh, God. Did anybody call Daddy?” Maggie asked.

“He ain’t there.We done call him.”

“Probably out in the country at the construction site,” I said.

We heard Uncle Louis’s car door slam and the running of

his shoes up the back steps.

260

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

“Where’s my momma?” he asked, nearly out of breath.

“In she room,” Livvie said quietly.

All at once I realized that this could mean Sophie was going

to die. Shoot, we had just buried Tipa. I wasn’t sure what a

stroke was, but I knew they killed people all the time or, worse,

left them alive in very bad shape.

“Can we go in?” I asked, not really wanting to see anything.

“Y’all bess be waiting ’eah with me for now. Go wash your

hands and help me chop celery for the stuffing tomorrow. No

matter what happen, still gotta eat. I don’t think she gone tonight.

I don’t feel like that’s so.”

“Anything from the guy in the mirror?” I asked flippantly.

This was going to be some holiday.

“Nothing, but I check on him directly. Maybe he got a ticket

for Mizz Asalit to board the train to glory, but I don’t think so.

Not tonight, nohow.”

“How do you know this stuff, Livvie?” Timmy asked.

“In my bones, son, in my bones.”

We heard the doctor on the hall phone ordering an ambu-

lance. I crept out and stood by him. He ignored me until he’d

made the call.

“What is it, child?”

“I’m Susan, Dr. Duggan. Remember me? How’s our grand-

mother?”

“Grave situation, Susan. Miss Sophie’s unconscious. I’ve

given your mother something to help her rest and I’m taking

your grandmother over to St. Francis.We’ll know a lot more after

we see how she does tonight.”

“Golly. Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. She can’t die now!”

I worried that Sophie would be snatched from us like Tipa

was. After his funeral, Sophie had reverted to her former behav-

ior. She no longer spoke. She wouldn’t bathe, except when Livvie

took charge. She rarely left her room. Still, she was my grand-

mother and I wasn’t ready for this.And she had helped me to my

room in the dark that horrible night.

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

261

The ambulance arrived quickly. Maggie was upstairs giving

the twins a bottle;Timmy and Henry were changing into their

pajamas. I was entrenched in the kitchen, making a platter of

sandwiches for a quick supper. When I saw the medical team

come in I stopped slapping ham on mayonnaise to see what was

going on.

I peeked in Grandma Sophie’s room. They were lifting her

onto a stretcher. They buckled big straps around her tiny body

and covered her with a white blanket. She seemed so small. I

thought she might get cold and hurried around them to her

closet to get her bathrobe and slippers. I pressed them into

Uncle Louis’s hands.

“She’ll need these,” I said.

“You’re a good girl, Susan,” he said. “Tell MC that I’ll call

her later.Your Aunt Carol and I are going to spend the night at

the hospital. Ask your daddy, when he gets home, to call over

there too.”

“Okay.”

I followed them out the front door and down the steps. A

terrible fog was rolling in. It was awful to see an ambulance

parked in front of our house in the mist.
Nightmarish.
I stood

on the porch for a few minutes after they left, listening to the

siren wail. It became faint and then finally I could hear it no

more. I leaned on the banister and listened to the ocean. Mrs.

Simpson’s porch light went out. She’d probably seen the whole

thing.

The screen door closed behind me and I knew without

looking that Livvie had come to make sure I was all right. She

put her hand on my shoulder.

“Gone be all right, chile, gone be all right.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Come on back inside now, this porch is a pneumonia hole

tonight.”

“Think she’s gonna get well, Livvie?”

“Chile, we can’t see what’s in Gawd’s mind, and you know

262

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

your grandmomma ain’t been right since Mr.Tipa gone. Might

be she time, but only Gawd knows that.”

“Livvie, Maggie and I got you something for Thanksgiving.”

“What you talking about?”

“Well, we got you a big box of chocolate candy. I hope it

cheers you up.You’ve been so, I don’t know, different lately.”

“Oh, chile.” She heaved a great sigh.“I guess I been carrying

the world. Don’t you worry. Livvie’s alright and you gone be

alright too, ’eah?”

“We could open it and look at it. If you want to, I mean.”

“Let’s do that, ’eah? We could all use some sweetening up.”

She smiled at me and latched the screen door.

We went into the living room to turn out the lights and

Livvie gave the mirror a hard look. It was irresistible, the tempta-

tion to peer into the future, I supposed. I knew that if I could’ve

seen anything in the darn mirror, I’d have been looking all the

time. She rubbed her eyes and looked again.

“Can’t be,” she said.

“What? What’d ya see? Tell me!”

Ignoring me, she went to the old round mahogany table,

which held old family photos by the dozens. She picked up a

picture of Daddy’s momma, who had died before I was born.

She lifted another one of Grandma Sophie and Grandpa Tipa

on their wedding day.

Livvie clenched her jaw and replaced the photograph, wip-

ing her fingerprints away from the silver frame with her apron.

She started to sing.

“Livvie, talk to me!” I was becoming frightened.

“Chile, listen to these words,” she said and started to sing.

“Sometimes I feel discourage,

and think my work’s in vain,

but then the Holy Spirit

revive my soul again!”

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

263

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means when trouble come knocking on your door, you

turn your mind to the Lawd, that’s what.”

“You saying trouble coming ’eah?”

“Mizz Susan, I’m saying that Gawd put me ’eah in this

house for a reason. Iffin trouble does come knocking, I gone

hold you together. You ’eah me?”

“That’s it? That’s all you gonna tell me?”

“That’s it. Now, let’s finish that stuffing for the bird, and get

a little bite of chocolate.”

“Good idea!” I was suspicious. “Gosh, it’s late! Are you

sleeping here tonight?”

“I hadn’t plan for that, but seeing how Mizz Asalit done

gone off and all, maybe I bess stick around for the night.”

“Yeah, that’d be good.”

We chopped in silence, popping Jordan almonds and

chocolate-covered caramels, except for when Livvie would sing.

Rutabagas, potatoes, onions, celery, carrots, parsley. Collard

greens, stripped of their spiny stems, soaked in a tub of salted

water with vinegar to tenderize them. Ham bones pulled from

the freezer to thaw to flavor the turnips and greens.

When Maggie came down, we added leaves to the dining

room table and we got out Momma’s best cloth. The snowy

damask covered the table just right. It was beautiful. We set the

table with a centerpiece of fruit and nuts in my grandmother’s

Waterford bowl.We put smilax leaves all around the bottom and

thought it looked fine.

Livvie put the twins to bed. Momma was sleeping. The

phone didn’t ring. Daddy still wasn’t home. Uncle Louis didn’t

call.

“Eleven-thirty! You girls bess get on to bed and rest,” Livvie

said.“I’ll just sleep on the cot in the twins’ room.”

“Where’s Daddy?”

“Chile, that ain’t for y’all to worry about. Be plenty of time

264

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

tomorrow to find out. Now go on to bed. Thank you very

much for the beautiful chocolate. It means a lot to me.”

“Livvie, you mean a lot to us,” I said.

“That’s right,” Maggie said quietly,“you do.”

Just knowing Livvie was two doors away, I fell asleep like a

stone sinking to the bottom of a river.

Thirteen

Taking Control

}

1999

was coping with my new life very well, I thought.

Basically, I gave the devil to those who needed it (that

I would be Beth) and kissed those deserving a kiss (that

would be Beth, too). It wasn’t easy, but I was putting one foot in

front of the other and, like Livvie used to say, I was thanking

God for my chance.

Tom was still withholding information needed to finalize

our divorce settlement. Last week he had sent Beth home with

an envelope containing a thousand dollars in cash. I knew it was

guilt money—his guilt over the night of the storm and Beth’s

disappointment. I also knew he was being paid in cash by

more than a few clients and not reporting it as income. I needed

the thousand but I knew we’d go through it in a hurry. I stashed the

bills in my old tennis shoes and tried not to feel like a hooker

for the moment.

Why Tom was dragging his feet on finalizing our separation

agreement I didn’t understand. It baffled me, given the fact that

266

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

Karen, the New Age Nympho, was once again living with him,

or at least she was there every time Beth went for weekend vis-

itation. I called Michelle Stoney and asked her to rattle his cage.

When Michelle asked him why he hadn’t turned in all

the tax documents she had requested, he said,“I have to call the

accountant.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I said, “what does he think? That I have

an automatic money machine in the living room? Hasn’t this

gone on long enough?”

“I know. Give me twenty-four hours. I’ll threaten a lien.

That’ll put a fire under his fanny. It doesn’t sit well with the bar

association, either, for lawyers to be sued for nonsupport. I’ll call

you tomorrow,” she said.

That conversation taught me that even Michelle Stoney,

great feminist advocate, needed gentle reminders to keep the

ball rolling. I had to look out for myself.

The list went on. I still had the pleasure of Tom’s bimbo,

Karen, and her mouth to deal with. She had told Beth that her

sex life with Tom was so fabulous that she didn’t care if they ever

got out of bed! I left a message on her machine.

“Tiger Woman?” I said. “This is Susan Hayes calling. Kindly

confine the bells and whistles of your sex life with
my
husband to

conversations with other adults. Do not, under any circumstances,

attempt to educate my daughter about the joys of illegal cohabi-

tation. My daughter is a minor and does not need to hear about

how her father and his concubine thrill each other. The minute

descriptions of your repugnant gymnastics are of no interest to

either one of us. If this message needs any clarification, you may

call me. If this continues to be an issue, my lawyer will call you.

You’ll find
concubine
and
repugnant
in the dictionary—if you own

one—which I seriously doubt.”

As long as I was telling her off, I figured an extra drive-by

shooting couldn’t hurt.

And I could never overlook Mitchell Fremont, the most

irksome man in the galaxy. He was like one of those Bop ’em

S u l l i v a n ’ s I s l a n d

267

Bob dolls. My brother Timmy had one when he was little. He’d

punch its red nose and it would keel over and pop back up for

another punch. Whenever I caught Mitchell eyeing me in the

office, I’d shoot him a Warrior Princess death ray, then watch

him keel over and pop back up. Mitchell had evolved to comic

relief of a sort.

On the happier side of things, my first column ran on

Thursday as Max Hall had said it would. We had entitled it

“Geechee Girl Remembers,” which seemed clever enough. I

thought the column and the cartoon looked pretty good, but

it had been edited without anyone telling me. That upset me

because I would’ve been happy to make changes but I wouldn’t

have made the same changes. In any case, it would earn me a

hundred or so dollars and that was good. Beth’s feet were still

growing and I was still shrinking. Journalism was a new universe

and I’d just learned my first lesson there too.

It turned out that Maggie was wrong about Grant, thank

God. He did indeed have a pack of matches but said he had

picked them up from the boys’ room, worrying that they were

smoking. Their son Bucky apparently admitted they were his

and, yes, he had been smoking and, yes, he was grounded for

two weeks.That was a huge relief. One divorce in the family at

a time, thank you very much.

Maggie had called me to congratulate me on the column

and we were talking about trusting men when my other phone

line beeped. I put her on hold, thinking that call waiting was a

fiendish device. I should cancel it and give Beth her own line as

soon as I could afford it. It was Roger Dodds.