Low Country Christmas

by Lee Tobin McClain

  “Is that what we are?” he asked, his voice that of a practiced flirt. “Friends?”

  She put a hand on his arm. “Don’t, Cash. Don’t cover it over with...that.” She waved a hand at him.

  “With what?”

  “That fake romantic stuff.”

  “It’s not fake, Holly.”

  Her heart pounded, but she ignored it. “Okay, it’s not fake, but you’re covering up something real. What’s bothering you?”

  He met her eyes, studied her, then shook his head. “Holly, Holly, Holly. What’s going on between us?”

  “You’re avoiding telling me why that phone call upset you so much.” She caught his hand and smiled at him to soften her words.

  He looked like he was about to tell her, but a commotion at the doorway made them both look in that direction. It was Sean, speaking urgently to the woman who’d been checking people in. She pointed in their direction, and as soon as he saw them, he started beckoning to them.

  They hurried over, Cash still holding Penny.

  “What’s wrong?” Cash asked.

  “It’s Pudge,” Sean said. “He’s in the hospital, and it’s not looking good.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  RITA WALKED INTO the hospital waiting room, already freaking out.

  Hospitals weren’t her favorite places in the best of times. In fact, they made her feel sick, not so much physically as mentally.

  She remembered her own surgeries after T-Bone had found her, the roaring confusion and aching head as she’d come to understand that she’d lost the memories of her entire life up to that point.

  Her other hospital experience had been T-Bone’s last days, the sadness and grief made confusing by her anger that he had withheld the truth about where he’d found her until the very end. So she’d had a double loss in that hospital in Maine: the loss of the man she’d come to love, and the loss of the years she might have spent trying to find her past, her children.

  Now, walking into the waiting room outside the intensive care unit, she wasn’t exactly shocked that the tension in the air was thick. Sean was kneeling beside Ma Dixie, who had her face in her hands and was unsuccessfully trying to conceal the fact that she was sobbing. Liam, Yasmin and Anna were talking to a nurse.

  Cash was pacing, his face tight with tension; Holly sat watching him, Penny on her lap, sleeping.

  “What are you doing here?” Cash stopped pacing and frowned at her.

  Well, okay then. She gave him a pass on politeness, because she knew that he was close to Ma and closer still to Pudge. “Got a couple of phone calls asking me to come,” she said, keeping her tone easy. “I hope I can be of some use, even if it’s just running out for coffee or taking Penny home.”

  “Sure. Sorry.” He turned away. It was as if he was angry at Rita for the fact that Pudge was sick.

  Holly beckoned to Rita, and she went over and sat beside the younger woman.

  “I’m sorry he’s acting awful,” Holly said. “This was a shock, and he was already upset about some phone call he got right before we rushed over here.”

  “Hard to keep up all your social graces when you’re hurting.”

  “He’ll be glad you came when he settles down and realizes that we need some help. Ma Dixie is a wreck, and the boys need you.”

  The thought of her sons needing her, of being able to help them, warmed Rita’s chest. She hadn’t been able to help them when they were younger, and she’d built up a serious lack of mothering somewhere deep inside. Any way she could fill that gap just made her happy.

  “How’s Pudge doing? What happened?”

  “As far as I can tell,” Holly said, stroking Penny’s hair, “he just keeled over in the kitchen out at their place. Of course, Ma couldn’t move him. She was afraid she’d lose him before the ambulance could get there, but they were able to revive him and bring him in.”

  “His heart?” Rita asked.

  Holly nodded. “Probably so, although they’re not saying for sure.”

  The small group talking to the nurse broke up, and Yasmin came over. “Everyone always said he was a heart attack waiting to happen,” she said, her expression bleak. “Now, it’s happened.”

  Ma Dixie was sitting alone, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, so Rita went to sit down beside her. At the same moment, Cash sat down on her other side.

  “I sure am sorry you’re facing this,” Rita said, handing her a box of tissues from the end table. “I’ve been in your shoes. I’m here to help with anything you need, back at home, or wherever.”

  “Thank you, honey. I love that man.” Ma’s chin trembled, and Rita’s own chest hurt, remembering her last days with T-Bone. She put an arm around Ma and gave her shoulders a squeeze.

  Cash drew in an audible breath. “Look, Ma, I hate to bring this up,” he said, “but should his next of kin be notified?”

  Ma’s head swung around to face Cash. “He told you about that, did he?”

  Cash nodded.

  “I think you’re the only one of the boys who knows, then,” she said. Her lips flattened. “Yes, they should be notified. I have the phone numbers back at the house.”

  Realizing this was a domestic drama that didn’t concern her, Rita started to stand, but Ma put a hand on hers, pulling her back down. “You said you were willing to run errands? I might have one for you.”

  “Of course. Anything.”

  Ma looked from Rita to Cash. “His kids never did one thing for him,” she said, “but I reckon it’s their right to know, to have one last chance to make amends,” she said. She turned to Rita. “There’s an envelope clipped up top of the refrigerator that has the phone number of Pudge’s wife and children,” she said, meeting Rita’s eyes with a kind of defiance, daring her to judge.

  “His... Oh.” Rita kept her face still, concealing her surprise. She wouldn’t have pegged Pudge and Ma for an illicit relationship. There must be a lot more to the story, but now wasn’t the time to probe or discuss it. “Do you want me to bring it to you?”

  “No,” Ma said. “I don’t want to talk to that woman, or those children, either. If you could just tell them that their father, Pudge LeFrost, might not make it...” She broke off and buried her face in her hands again.

  “Of course.” Rita squeezed the other woman’s shaking shoulders.

  “I can take care of it,” Cash said.

  “No,” Ma choked out to Rita. “Cash shouldn’t have to deal with that. Will you do it for me?”

  “Ma, I can—”

  “She’s right. I’ll handle it.” Rita had had little enough opportunity to protect one of her boys from something ugly. Doing it satisfied something deep inside, even though Cash was in his thirties and didn’t really need protection.

  “Check with the doctors first,” Ma said.

  “Of course.” She knelt in front of Ma. “If his prognosis improves, do you want me to hold off calling them?”

  Ma nodded and squeezed her hand. “Thank you,” she said. “Just use your own judgment. I’m in no state to make a decision.”

  “I will.” Rita left Ma to be comforted by Cash. Now she had to make a call that involved eating some crow, but there was no help for it. She scrolled through her contacts and tapped on Jimmy’s number.

  “So you finally decided to call,” he said. His voice wasn’t friendly.

  Not a good start. “I need a favor.” She glanced around the room and reminded herself that this wasn’t about her or looking good and righteous in front of her boyfriend. “Look, I’m at the hospital because Pudge LeFrost is quite ill. I have to do some things for the family, and I need help with Taffy.”

  “How’s Pudge? What happened?” All sarcasm was gone from Jimmy’s voice.

  She looked up and saw a couple of scrubs-clad doctors approach the small cluster at the door. There was a quick
conversation and then they all headed over to Ma. The woman who appeared to be the head doctor sat down and took Ma’s hand, and Rita’s heart sank. But she was smiling, and Ma listened and didn’t break down. No bad news yet.

  “I think they’re getting more information right now,” she said into the phone, “but it’s serious. His heart.”

  “Aw, man.” Jimmy was silent a few seconds. “If you get the chance, give my regards to Ma Dixie. I’ll do anything I can to help.” He hesitated. “And you’re right to be there when the family needs you. I’ll take care of Taffy.”

  “Thank you.” Relief swam through her because Jimmy was so willing to help. Quickly she gave instructions on feeding and walking the dog. She wanted to make a joke about how they might bond, but decided she’d better leave well enough alone. Jimmy was a good man at heart and knew how to look beyond his own petty concerns and emotions. She was grateful for that.

  She started to gather her things, figuring she should probably go out to Pudge and Ma Dixie’s before the sun went down since their place was rather remote. She would get the phone numbers and hold on to them until more information was available.

  She glanced back at the group, unsure of whether it was her place to listen in on what the doctors were saying, or ask questions. Probably best to just go and run this errand.

  But as she walked out the door, Cash came up beside her. “Can you talk a minute?” he asked.

  “Of course. Did you find out anything about how Pudge is doing?” She figured it wasn’t terrible news. Ma and the doctors were still talking, and they all looked serious, but not he’s-dying serious.

  “It’s a waiting game for now. He came through surgery and the damage doesn’t seem to be extensive. But his overall health isn’t great.” Cash looked away, then looked back at her. “Listen, I’m sorry I was short with you before. I’m a little upset, but there’s no excuse for me being rude to you.”

  Rita blinked and patted his arm. Another surprise today, this one good: Cash was acting civil. “You’re forgiven. It’s a stressful time.”

  “How do you do that?” He was looking at her closely, studying her as if he’d never seen her before.

  “Do what, honey?”

  “Forgive so easily. Keep coming back.”

  She didn’t have to give that a second thought. “It’s easy,” she said. “It’s what mothers do.”

  * * *

  THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Cash headed south. He knew he was driving like an idiot, especially with the heavy rain that had blown in, but he felt like his whole life was about to wash into the swamp.

  Pudge had made it through the night and was hanging on, but not by much more than a thread. Seeing him pale and still in that hospital bed had done something to Cash. Especially when he considered that Pudge might die, and that his kids might never have the chance to see what a great guy he was. Or to make up for neglecting him, or to settle their grievances.

  It made the fact that he was driving to see his own father now doubly strange. He remembered the bad side of his dad, definitely. You’d had to be careful around him; he was as likely to beat up their mother as say a civil word. He’d given Cash a few licks as well, though not as much as Sean, who had tried his best to take the blows for his younger brothers.

  Liam and Sean flat-out hated their father. As a kid, at least, Cash’s feelings had been more mixed. Memories he’d long forgotten welled back up. He remembered when Orin had come home from work excited, telling about how he’d sold three cars that day or, later, how he’d rolled back the odometers on some vehicles and made successful deals. That last had made Mom frown, but she’d taken the bills he’d handed her from a big roll of money.

  Odometer fraud. As an adult, he realized that it was illegal, a felony even. No wonder their mother had frowned.

  Cash hadn’t known that as a kid, though. He’d just admired the money, had high-fived his father. It was one of the few times his father had slung an arm around him, smiled and laughed.

  “That’s my Cash,” his father had said, “living up to his name.” He’d pulled off a twenty and handed it over, untold riches to a kid.

  As he’d gotten older, Cash had followed in his father’s footsteps. He’d gone around the neighborhood collecting broken appliances, cleaned them up, charmed the local old guys into helping him fix them and then sold them. He used the money to buy the kind of stuff an eleven-year-old wanted—fancy sneakers and shirts, an expensive handheld video game.

  “Where’d you get the money for that?” his father had asked when he’d seen the game, looking suspiciously at their mom. She’d gotten a scared look on her face, like she didn’t know what story to tell. She always tried to protect them, but in this instance, she hadn’t known how.

  He’d jumped in and told the truth, expecting to get a beating for it and maybe be made to return the game. But to his surprise, his dad had laughed uproariously and fist-bumped him. “That’s my boy,” he’d said. The next day he’d taken Cash down to the bar and bragged about what he’d done.

  The approval had felt good. Another time, he’d bought a bunch of glow sticks cheap and sold them to people at the Fourth-of-July celebration, enticing the kids and making them beg their parents. That time, he’d shown his father his earnings and then regretted it, because Orin had been down a few and “borrowed” most of Cash’s stash. Instead of paying him back, he’d brought Cash some poorly fitting clothes and shoes, which Cash now realized had almost surely been stolen.

  The way Cash had tried to impress his father made him ashamed, now that he was older and knew the awful things Orin had done. By putting together what Sean remembered and what Rita had told them, gleaned from the long-haul trucker who’d picked her up on the side of the road, he knew Orin had beaten her badly and left her for dead.

  Cash hated to think it of his father, but it was believable, given what he remembered about how Orin had treated their mother.

  He sighed and looked out at the salt marshes on either side of the road—they stretched out flat, with waving gold-green grasses, cut through with meandering creeks. Way off in the distance, on the left, the ocean rolled. Birds soared overhead, sometimes swooping to partake of the marsh’s delicacies.

  The land, the low country, comforted his brother Sean. For Liam, it was the town of Safe Haven that meant the most to him; his mission in life was to keep it safe.

  As for Cash, he’d always felt like his thing was money. It was what comforted him. Now that he had Penny, though, now that his brothers had settled down and he’d developed this strange longing for Holly, he didn’t know what his goals were, what to work toward.

  In the midst of that confusion, his father had called, claiming to be sick and wanting to see Cash. He’d chosen to call Cash out of the three brothers. Which made a certain amount of sense, because Cash was the one who was most like Orin, and probably least likely to judge. Maybe Orin, like Pudge, regretted the past and wanted to open some doors.

  The whole situation had him thinking about Rita a lot, too. How she’d shown up at the hospital, had put up with his own rudeness and just quietly helped people, not intruding, not acting like she was in charge, but ready to help.

  That’s what mothers do, she had said to him.

  Cash supposed he needed to grow up and stop blaming her for something that had happened long ago. If anyone was to blame, it was the man he was headed to see.

  He spotted his exit, put the blinker on the Tesla and turned off. Orin was staying a few miles off the highway in a little town at the very southern border of South Carolina. Out in the boonies. Well, he’d liked that rural environment when they were growing up so it made sense that was where he was living now.

  Ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of a blue, single-wide mobile home straight out of the 1950s. Probably really was that old, judging from the rust stains along the base. A tumbledown shed stood beside it, and
long-needled pines waved their branches overhead. Off to one side, he could make out a house; the other side was a tangle of vegetation.

  So this was what his dad had come to. The big wads of money had never been a regular thing, but it looked like what supply there’d been had dried up.

  He got out of the car, walked through the rain to the front door and climbed sagging wooden steps. His heart was thumping double-time, triple-time, and he was sweating through his shirt.

  He hadn’t told anyone he was coming here. He’d considered telling his brothers, but he knew they’d insist on joining him, probably to beat up Orin for what he’d done to their mother. Understandable, but it wouldn’t fix anything. Besides, his brothers were needed back at home, needed by Ma Dixie and by their children.

  There was every chance that Orin was still a skunk, and if so, Cash wanted to limit the damage. His family didn’t need to know the man had tried to get back in touch. It was a book that could quietly be closed if things didn’t look right.

  But there was another reason Cash wanted to see his father: in his heart, he was hoping the visit would reveal something to him, something about himself. If his father had changed, as he had sounded like on the phone, then maybe Cash could change, too. If Orin regretted what he’d done and had turned over a new leaf, gotten more interested in people he loved and less focused on money, then there was hope for Cash. Hope for him as a father and a family man.

  He hadn’t seen his father for fifteen years at least, and he’d been a kid back then. A sick sensation of fear rose in his throat, his body bringing back the terror that used to accompany his father’s return home.

  In his memories of his father, he’d forgotten about that terror. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

  He actually took a step back, but the door opened.

  And there was his father.

  The man who’d given Cash his name and the worst of his traits looked out from the same dark blue eyes that Cash saw in the mirror every day. His hair was overlong and greasy, and the shirt he wore wasn’t any too clean, but he was a good-looking man for all that—strong, fit, clean-shaven.