Undertow (13 page)

Let’s see… what to write about this beginning?

It’s a crazy time for all of us. So much is changing. This morning I decided to run to my usual escape down by the shore to relax and find my center. I was meditating when I remembered being a little girl and stripping off all my clothes so I could run and jump naked into the surf. It was always so warm and swirly, and I would pretend I could turn into a mermaid and swim down deep to rule some magical kingdom. The memory made me smile, and I peeped through one eye at my surroundings.

Nope, too many early vacationers to attempt a repeat performance. Even here on Port Hogan Road, the beach condos are taking over. Damn Bill Kyser. His big plan is only going to make things worse.

In those days, I could come down here almost any time and be alone. That’s when I’d started my habit of skinny-dipping. Now I have to be content to sit on the shoreline, eyes closed, legs crossed simply breathing in the air and listening to the sounds of my home. My inspiration.

I giggled at the thought of me skinny-dipping now. I could just see the headline, “Local Girl Caught Naked in the Gulf!” Miss Stella would get a big laugh out of that.

My benefactress has a wicked sense of humor despite her reputation as one of the most straight-laced members of society. I know her better, though. I had a wonderful time growing up here. She says I’m her favorite little orphan, and she’s encouraged me in everything I’ve done.

Orphan.

Technically, I’m not an orphan. I wouldn’t even be here if my slacker dad hadn’t dumped me with the nuns after my mother had her nervous breakdown. He cut and ran right back to New Orleans, leaving me with the good sisters at the Little Flower Convent.

Loser.

A man who deserts his family isn’t worth the time of day, if you ask me.

When my mother died a few years later, he never even came back for the funeral. Miss Stella told me not to hold it against him, and I’ve decided to take her advice. I’d actually like to thank him. Miss Stella’s given me a better life than any I could’ve had with him. A beautiful life full of color and art and living by the sea.

In two weeks, I’ll be in the biggest wedding in town, which still makes me laugh sometimes. Who would’ve ever believed a waif like me could be inseparable friends with someone like Meg Weaver? I guess chalk it up to small towns and childhood memories.

But it’s more than that. Meg’s like my sister, even if we’re like night and day. It’s funny, we
are
sort of like night and day—her glowing sunshine, and me quiet night.

She’s determined to marry her Billy, and nothing I can say will change her mind. He’ll be the ruin of our hometown, and she’ll be right there on every community board and snooty rich-wives club supporting him.

But I love her.

I’ve never met anyone as sweet or as loyal as Meg, and I’ll gladly stand up for her to marry whomever she pleases. Even if it’s someone I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole.

Today I went to her house to try on the maid of honor dress she picked out for me. I imagined it would be some terrible Pepto-Bismol pink number with lots of frills and lace. Meg is very girlie, and she loves all the trappings of the princess set.

When I arrived, her mom, who we all call Gigi, was in the sitting room entertaining one of her DAR friends. She motioned me upstairs, and I wondered again why she was letting Meg get married so young. Especially to Bill. He’s so focused on his big dream. There’s no way he can love Meg as much as he loves himself and his plan. But these old hens only see one thing: grandbabies. They see beautiful Margaret Weaver marrying (okay, I’ll admit it) gorgeous Bill Kyser, and they go all
Gone with the Wind
. If he’s ambitious, well that just makes it all the more romantic.

I think it’s a total mistake. Meg’s so tender, he’s sure to end up hurting her.

Up in her room, she was giddy with excitement about her big day. “Oh, Lexy, I never thought you’d get here. I can’t stand it! You’re gonna die when you see the dress.”

“Well, you don’t want me to die,” I laughed, flopping on her bed. “Who’d be your maid of honor? Pamela Browning?”

“Pamela Browning!” she shrieked. “Oh, Lex. You’re hilarious! Wouldn’t that just toast her buns?”

We both laughed at that. Pamela had shamelessly flirted with Bill since she moved to Fairview junior year, and we all expected her to do something desperate the night of the wedding.

“OK, toasty buns,” I said, sitting up. “Go ahead. Let me see it.”

She opened the armoire, and my eyes flew wide. I gasped when I saw the dress she’d picked out for me. Meg might act like a dumb blonde, but she’s got my number. It was beautiful. Dark maroon with an airy tulle skirt. She laughed at the look on my face, and I carefully touched the delicate, clearly expensive fabric.

Then I put my arms around her and kissed her cheek. “I love it,” I whispered.

“You are going to be so beautiful in this dress, Lexy, I’ll be lucky if anyone even looks at me.” She rested her temple against mine.

“I’ll blend into the wallpaper next to you,” I said.

Meg could be a model. She’s the all-American girl with long shimmering blonde hair, blue eyes, and a perfect figure. When they cast the Barbie dolls, she’s clearly what they’re going for.

Once, a while back, I’d considered using her to practice my portrait work, but then I decided no one would buy it. It would be impossible to believe someone like her exists in the real world. As I watched her pacing, discussing her wedding plans, it struck me she was actually glowing. I couldn’t figure out how she did it.

“And you have to wear makeup to my wedding, Lexy, now don’t roll your eyes.” She pulled out her tools. “You’re lucky to have such an even skin tone and those lashes or you’d never get away with it.”

I did roll my eyes, but she ignored me. “Here, let me just put a little shadow on your lids and some lip gloss. Now look. Perfect.”

We looked in the mirror, faces together, and I exhaled a laugh. Like I said, night and day.

“Oh, Lexy, we’re the perfect team,” she said.

“Team for what?” I tugged her golden lock and crossed my legs under me.

“Anything! You have to stay here.”

“Not this again,” I groaned. “No way. You can bury yourself in this place if you want, but I’m getting out.”

“You make it sound like prison,” she pouted. “You know, you might realize the older you get, that it’s not so bad to be around people who know you and love you.”

“I understand it being right for you. But I can’t stay here, Meg. It’s too small and claustrophobic. I’ll go crazy if I don’t get out of this place.”

She sighed, tossing her makeup brush on the counter. “So Billy wants us all to go out on his boat next weekend. You in?”

“I don’t know,” I picked up one of her gigantic wedding magazines and started turning pages. “I’ve got a lot of packing to do, and you know I don’t like boats.”

“Please, Lexy,” she begged. “You’ll be leaving soon, and I’m afraid it’ll be one of the last times we’re all together.”

“Who else is going?” I glanced up at her.

“Bryant and one of his girls. I don’t know. Maybe Donna?”

I didn’t mind Donna Albriton. “Okay,” I agreed.

Being with Billy tends to bring out the hostile side of me, but I love Meg so much. I don’t want her to think I don’t approve of her future husband, even if she is
way
too young to be getting married.

June 11, 19--

I can’t believe I hadn’t figured out Meg was pregnant!

Of
course
that’s why they’re getting married way too young. Bill would never have strayed from his carefully laid plans without something major happening.

Now I know, and now I’m sworn to secrecy. And I also know there’s no changing her mind—not that there was ever a chance of that. Even at five years old, all Meg wanted to do was grow up to be a wife and a mommy. She saw Bill in ninth grade, and the first thing she said was, “It’s him.”

I felt a pain in the pit of my stomach. She hadn’t even spoken to the guy, and there she was staking her entire future on him. But Bill’s always been kind to Meg. It’s funny, he seems as in awe of her as everyone else is. She’s so sweet, it’s hard to believe. And she’s so innocent, you wonder how she manages to make it through a day without getting lost or injured. She’s in the perfect location to live her life happy, secure, and protected straight through to the end, surrounded by her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

I, on the other hand, am getting out of here as fast as possible. Not that I don’t love my hometown. It’s a beautiful place that I will always carry in my heart as my inspiration. I just need to meet different people. I need new experiences and more stimulation. Seeing the same old faces and the same roads and store fronts day after day has become so monotonous, I’ll turn into my crazy mother if I don’t leave.

And yes, I confess, I’m hoping for a better selection of guys. Ones who aren’t so focused on the big game or drinking beer or shooting guns.

Savannah is going to be the answer to my prayers. It’s bigger, but not too big. And it’s on the water, so I can go down and commune with the ocean as much as I need to. I’ll miss Miss Stella and her great house on Port Hogan Road, but I can come back and visit anytime.

So I agreed and last night we all went out on Bill’s boat. I can’t relax on a boat, but I couldn’t say no to Meg. She’s right. In a month I’ll be gone, and I don’t know how long it’ll be before I see my dear friend again.

It’s unclear how her being Mrs. Bill Kyser is going to change our friendship. I hope not at all, but of course, I have no idea how my going to SCAD will change things. I confess, I’m as sad-nervous-excited-melancholy as my dear friend facing my future.

I watched Bill a little more closely last night. I was sure he was shaking in his boots at what all was coming with fatherhood on top, but you’d never know it to look at him. He’s so focused. I don’t know where he gets it. His dad is as laid-back and easygoing as the next good ole boy rancher.

Maybe it was too many hot summers driving the combine, but Bill’s been harping on this plan of his for two years now. He and Bryant, the tycoons of South County.

We had one short exchange on our outing last night. He had just set the boat on course when he sat down beside me.

“Congratulations, Daddy.” I smiled at him.

He frowned.

“What’s the matter?” I said. “Nervous?”

He laughed once. “You don’t think I should be?”

“I think you should be scared to death.”

June 16, 19--

Meg’s wedding certainly had style—just like her. It was the fairytale event she’d always planned, complete with the cruise into the sunset. Watching her and Bill leave, I imagined the end of all the stories where the fairytale princess lives happily ever after, and I wished them the best. I really did.

And with that behind me, my sights moved to art school and chasing down my dreams.

I’ve got two weeks to get ready, and Miss Stella is helping me pack all of my art supplies and clothes. Last night she came and sat on my bed to talk a few minutes.

“I remember the day you came here,” she smiled taking my hand in hers. “You were such a tiny little thing with those big black eyes. I loved you the minute I saw you.”

I crawled across the bed to put my head in her lap. “I remember I was so scared in this house all alone,” I said, hugging her thick waist. “When I was at Little Flower, I’d shared a room with seven other girls. This was the biggest place I’d ever seen.”

She combed my long hair with her fingers. “You perked right up after you started helping me in the garden, and then after you started school.”

“After I met Meg. I remember the first time I saw her, she was like one of those little Christmas angels. Perfect in every way.”

Miss Stella chuckled. “I wasn’t surprised at all by your friendship. Margaret Weaver might seem like she has everything, but I recall her having trouble relating to other children.”

“That’s funny. I never noticed.” I traced the eyelet hem of her gown with my finger, thinking. “She always seemed to know everyone and have lots of friends.”

“Knowing people and having friends are two different things. But the two of you were right for each other. You’re an old soul, and she gravitated to that.”

“To hear her tell it, she gravitated to my looks,” I laughed. “Something about us being exact opposites.”

“Children are funny.” I could feel Mrs. Stella braiding my hair. “They’re fascinated by the strangest things. But Meg’s attraction to pretty things affects her judgment.”

I lifted my chin, catching her hazel eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Two people can marry young, and it can work out. But Bill Kyser doesn’t even know who he is yet, and he’s very distracted by his ambition.”

I put my head back down and closed my eyes. “Meg’s pregnant.”

Miss Stella didn’t answer.

“I don’t think she’s told her parents yet,” I said. “Will you not tell them? Please?”

I felt her sigh then. “I don’t make it into Fairview much. I don’t see why I’d have any reason to cross paths with Georgiana Weaver.”