The Hurricane Sisters (23 page)

“Do you know how often you say the word
awesome
?” He was smiling when he said it but I knew it was another lesson in how to be a politician’s partner.

“Probably too much. I’ll try to be aware of that. Anyway, have you ever seen a llama?”

“No. Can’t say I have, except on
Animal Planet
.”

“I love that show. So, would you like to?”

“Maybe someday,” he said. Porter was smiling. I thought he liked the idea. “So is that your surprise? You’re going to take me out in the country to a llama farm?”

“No. Well, I can, any time you want. But my big surprise is that because Skipper had his stroke, my brother, Ivy, flew in from San Francisco to see what he could do to help . . .”

“What kind of a name is Ivy for a man?”

“Well, it’s a nickname because he’s Clayton Bernard Waters IV, so the IV is like ivy. Anyway, we’ve all called him that since he was really little.”

“I see.” He was quiet for a moment. I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. “And so?”

“So he’s going to meet us at Cypress for one drink and then he’s got other things to do. I just wanted him to meet you.”

“Okay. If it’s only for a drink. I really want this night to be ours, you know?”

He seemed slightly miffed but maybe I was imagining things.

“Of course, I know. I feel the same way. But Ivy’s hardly ever here and he’s just so great. So I thought it was a good idea.”

“Then let’s park the car and go find your brother who’s named for a houseplant.” He snickered and I thought it was funny. At least he had a sense of humor.

We pulled into the parking lot and paid the attendant.

“Hello, Mr. Senator? He’s also named for a category of very select schools. And for Old Moneybags, our father.”

Porter turned off the engine and looked at me. His smile was a little too wide then.

“So I imagine then that your father is a gentleman of means? Not that I googled him or anything.”

“Massive. Not Rockefeller or Bill Gates fortunes but enough to live a pretty large life. I guess. But he’s pretty frugal so what can I say?”

“And your mother works, doesn’t she?”

“Yes. She works for a nonprofit that helps battered women and children.”

“That’s a nasty can of worms, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that. I mean, I’m sort of proud of what she does.”

“Yes, I’m sure in many ways you would be. But I just think it’s strange for your father, if he’s so successful, to let her be exposed to that kind of thing.”

What did he mean? People who were rednecks on drugs? Or that it was too unpleasant a business for a lady of refinement?

“I don’t think he thinks of it that way.”

“Okay. Well, I’m just glad to know he can pay for the wedding,” he said and reached over to tickle me on the inside of my knee, a move that totally creeped me out. He got out of the car and came around to open my door.

However, he had said that magical word—
wedding!
That wasn’t my imagination, was it?

We went into Cypress and took the elevator upstairs to the bar. There was Ivy waiting at a small table. He stood up and extended his hand to Porter.

I could tell that Porter hated Ivy on sight. It might have been because of the way he dressed. Ivy was a cutting-edge fashionista. Porter was not. We all ordered a glass of wine. They made pleasant enough conversation about San Francisco and Ivy’s business and James and the state of politics in the South and across the nation. We talked about Maisie and how she was living with Skipper and the unfortunate accident with the llama spit. It should’ve been a home run but the night was lost. What had happened? Why was Porter so uneasy? Ivy, for some reason beyond me, seemed to get an unspoken signal from Porter that he should leave and so he stood to go. His wineglass was still half full.

“Well, this has been very nice, but I have to get back to the hospital to see about Maisie,” he said and gave me a kiss on my cheek. “We’ll talk in the morning?”

“Of course!” I said. “Love you!”

“Love you too, Ashley River,” he said and pressed the elevator button.

I thought, What happened here?

Porter paid the tab and a few minutes later, we went downstairs to dinner. He ordered a bottle of red wine because he said we were sharing chateaubriand and Caesar salad, which in my mind was the perfect dinner. But what was supposed to be an amazing night seemed like it had already gone to hell in a handbasket, as Maisie liked to say.

“Okay,” I said. “Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Ashley. What could be wrong?”

“Well, your jaw is twitching, for one thing. It does that when you’re nervous.”

“Look, I’m a high-profile guy, representing the people of our state. Your family is just a lot more colorful than the folks I’m used to, that’s all. Give me a little time to process the llama farm and Maisie and battered women and Ivy, okay?”

“What is there to process?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

He finished the wine in his glass and refilled his and mine before the waiter could get to him.

“Sorry, sir,” the waiter said.

“No problem,” he said and then turned back to me. “Okay, here’s a really superexaggerated example of how I see it. Do you remember the television show called
The Munsters
?”

“I think so, why?”

“Well, everyone is either Frankenstein or a vampire or a werewolf except for the niece, Marilyn. She’s blond and beautiful, just like you. And she doesn’t realize she’s surrounded by a family that’s very odd. That’s all.”

“And I’m Marilyn?”

“But in a much more subtle way. How’s your salad?”

I had not realized that the salad was in front of me. I took a bite and smiled at him. I drained my wineglass and he refilled it. Did he think I came from a family of freaks? Was he trying to tell me that my family flunked the interview? Oh my God! He was going to dump me. He was going to try and sleep with me because I had said we’d go to bed together on this, our next date. Then he was going to dump me! I was supposed to be his wife and eventually the first lady of the United States of America! Now it wasn’t going to happen? What were my options? I had to think fast!

While I sliced and ate my roast beef, and he talked about himself and his important political future at the national level while I nodded in agreement, I had this thought. It had probably been a long time since he had sex with someone my age. I was sure I had more stamina than that last one, what was her name? I couldn’t remember. Cindy something? And my generation of girls was a lot wilder than his. We’d do anything. The wine was definitely going to my head but I was still feeling pretty damn bold. Whoops! I used a curse word.

I hardly remember the drive back to the island but I remember thinking I was going to have to seduce him because he was acting pretty chilly. I’d get him out on the portico. That portico was my secret weapon. Yeah, baby! I mean,
yes,
baby!

We pulled into my yard and he stopped the car.

“Want to take a look at the moon with me?” I said and thought I sounded like a sultry temptress.

“Ashley? I don’t want you to ever think that I would take advantage of a tipsy girl. Do you know what I mean?”

“Porter? I’ll let you know when I think you’re taking advantage of me and besides, I’m not tipsy.”

I could barely make out the details of his face.

“Right. Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.”

So he helped me out of the car and he walked me up the front steps. I fiddled with the key and finally got the door open.

“Thanks for a nice evening,” he said.

“Don’t you want to come see the ocean with me?”

“Okay. For one minute. Then you need to go sleep it off, honey chile.”

I thought I was being clever to pull him down the hallway to my bedroom instead of out to the portico.

“Stop! Ashley, stop!”

He got pissed and pulled away, which under normal circumstances wouldn’t have amounted to anything. But because I was wearing some really high heels I lost my balance and fell, hitting my head on the edge of the door on the way down to the floor. I could feel something warm running down my forehead and I knew I was bleeding.

“If you weren’t so aggressive, this wouldn’t have happened,” he said. “Besides, I make the call on who I sleep with and when it happens. I’m sorry.”

I remember him handing me a face cloth and I remember the sound of the front door closing. And I remember that I started to cry.

CHAPTER 14

Liz—Headed North

The hospital moved Skipper to a regular room yesterday, which was much less stressful for him. And it was nicer for us because we could come and go as we pleased. It was late in the afternoon, and I had just arrived at MUSC after a long day at work. A very nice young woman, a speech pathologist, was taking Skipper somewhere for a session. I just caught him for one second on the way out the door, but that brief moment was long enough for him to dazzle me with a clear and coherent greeting with only the smallest hesitation.

“Well, hello, Liz! Are those nice flowers for me?” he said.

I nearly clutched my bosom and gasped like Melanie from Twelve Oaks. But of course I didn’t. Still, his words were a wonderful surprise.

“Yes, they are! How are you feeling today, Skipper?”

“Right as rain,” he said and smiled.

“Let’s go, Mr. Dempsey,” the pathologist said.

“Later!” he said and shot me a peace sign.

He left, walking with just the support of her arm. I was left to talk about Skipper’s recovery with Maisie and Ivy, who had probably been there all afternoon.

“Hello, hello!” I gave them both a peck on the cheek. “This room is so much more cheerful,” I said, putting the vase of flowers I had brought on his chest of drawers. “At least now he doesn’t have to feel like his life is hanging by a thread.”

“Hard to be cheery in an ICU anyway,” Ivy said. “How was your day?”

“Just fine. My Sister’s House got a gift from All Air today for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Not a bad day’s work. Thanks for asking. How are you, Maisie?”

“Fine, thank you. Here’s the
really
good news. I think his doctors are going to release him tomorrow,” Maisie said. “Then he’s going to have to endure a lot of physical therapy until he’s strong enough to have the carotid artery surgery. What an ordeal he’s facing!”

Did Maisie say congratulations? No.

“Like he hasn’t been through enough?” Ivy said. “And so have you! That’s why I’m here, Maisie. I can drive him wherever he needs to go. And you too. Ivy’s Limo, at your service! And I can stay for as long as you can stand me.”

“
Stand
you? I
adore
you!” Maisie said.

“That’s awfully nice of you, Ivy. You’re so dear!” I said.

“You’re just finding that out?” Maisie said. “Humph! I’ve known that for years!”

“Now, now, girls, don’t fight over me,” Ivy said and laughed. “So, Mom? I met Ashley and Porter Galloway last night for a drink.”

Maisie could be so persnickety.

“Oh? I didn’t realize she was seeing him for sure.”

“Oh, yeah,” Ivy said. “I think she’s pretty sweet on him.”

“Oh, dear. What did you think of him?” I asked. I could tell from his face that it didn’t go well.

“He wouldn’t be my first pick for a brother-in-law,” Ivy said. “That’s for
sure
.”

“He’s nothing but a scallywag,” Maisie said.

“And it was pretty clear that I made him uncomfortable,” Ivy said.

“Why?” Maisie said.

“Please, Maisie,” I said. “We don’t have to spell it out, do we, Ivy?”

“No. First, I wasn’t wearing a seersucker suit and, second, I’m probably the first gay man he’s ever engaged in conversation. He was a nervous wreck, like it’s contagious or something.”

“Son? Don’t worry about him. He’ll be out of her life before you know it.”

“One can only hope,” Maisie said. “I don’t like him for our Ashley.”

“Me either,” Ivy said. “Too conservative for my taste.”

“Hmm. I’m sure he’d be crushed if he knew,” I said.

“Probably not,” Ivy said. “Have you heard from Dad?”

“Not really. We’ve only had the briefest conversation earlier this week about Skipper. You know, when the stroke happened.”

Ivy and Maisie looked at each other with the strangest expression and I knew I was about to be on the receiving end of news I didn’t want to hear.

“Don’t y’all have a habit of calling each other at least once a day or something?” Maisie said.

What business was that of hers?

“James and I totally have a bed check every night.”

This conversation had been rehearsed without me. Obviously.

“Why would we?” I said.

“Because if he’s not obliged to check in with his wife, it makes it easy to forget he’s
got
a wife.”

“Mom, all I’m saying is there might be too much slack in his leash,” Ivy said.

“I really don’t want to discuss my marriage with my mother and my son,” I said. “It’s completely inappropriate.”

“Well, you can’t live your whole life in a state of denial,” Maisie said. “It just isn’t a mentally healthy thing to do.”

“
Denial?
” I said to her. “You’re going to lecture
me
about denial? You’re kidding, right?” I could feel my temperature rising.

Maisie didn’t take the bait. She said, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean by that. I’m just suggesting that you might like to take a few days and go see what’s going on in New York. That’s all.”

“I couldn’t possibly go now. We’re just in the middle of a new campaign at work and Tom needs me. Besides, Clayton will be home tomorrow.”

“Well, then, next week or the next,” Ivy said. “I agree with Maisie and I just think you should slip into Manhattan unannounced and drop in on Dad’s life to see what he’s up to these days.”

“Unless
work
matters more than your marriage,” Maisie said.

“Yes,” Ivy said. “That’s completely your call.”