“So what did you do?” asked Merry.
“I coaxed him over into the grass. It was softer. I thought maybe he’d walk there,” said Mamma.
“That was a great idea,” said Poppy.
Daddy continued to rinse while we all distracted Mamma, getting her to tell us what had happened.
“Well,” said Mamma, “it was a great idea for about five minutes. Until he saw the fiddler crab.”
“Oh no.” Blake smothered a grin.
“A fiddler crab?” said Joe. “Basset hounds chase fiddler crabs?”
“This. One. Does.” Mamma gestured at Chumley.
Chumley commenced howling again.
“Hush up,” Daddy, Mamma, Blake, Merry, and I all said at once.
Mamma turned around so Daddy could hose her back. “The strip of grass isn’t wide along that section of Marsh View Drive. It starts getting muddy quick, then there’s patches of spartina grass, and mud flats, and, well, the marsh. The tide was out, so there was a wide swath of mud. Chumley started barking at the crab right along the edge. The crab skittered right out across the mud, and Chumley found his second wind, just like that.”
“Oh, no.” I could see this playing out vividly in my imagination. It was not a pretty sight.
“Lightnin’ here was on one of those retractable leashes,” said Mamma. “I had it set to give him a lot of slack. He took it. He chased that crab about ten feet into the pluff mud before he started sinking.”
“We’re lucky we didn’t lose the hound dog,” said Daddy. “His short little legs, portly physique…”
“You’re lucky you didn’t lose me.” Mamma turned around, leaned into her roar.
Daddy stopped spraying her.
“That muck is like quicksand,” she said. “Chumley sank into it up to his stomach. He couldn’t move.”
“Poor Chumley,” said Poppy.
Blake’s eyes got big. He, Merry, and I all gave Poppy warning glances. She had a soft heart for animals. But right then, we all knew the smart play was to show Mamma sympathy, and Chumley had drug her through the mud. Literally. Sympathy for Chumley just then was downright dangerous.
Mamma looked at Poppy, raised an eyebrow. “I went into the mud after him. I sank into it up to my knees.”
“Oh, Mamma,” I said. “That just sounds like a nightmare to me.” And it did. Pluff mud was full of the bacteria that ate the decaying spartina grass, plus decaying material from fish, shrimp, and all manner of things I didn’t care to think about.
“It was a nightmare,” said Mamma. “I wrapped my arms around Chumley and pulled and pulled. Finally he came free, but I fell backward, him on top of me. We were both wrestling around in that revolting mud for what seemed like hours. I thought we would both be sucked under and never be seen or heard from again.”
“Mamma, that’s horrible,” Merry said.
We both moved closer to her, wanting to comfort her, but neither of us wanting to touch her.
Mamma said, “I think that’s good enough I can go indoors, Frank. Let me see the hose for just a second to get a bit of it out of my hair.”
“I can squirt your head.” Daddy demonstrated.
“Frank.” I just knew Mamma was giving him the look, but you couldn’t really tell it because she still had mud on her face. She held out her hand.
Daddy handed her the hose, grinning.
She turned it on him full force.
“What are you doing?” Daddy sputtered. “You know I’ve practically got pneumonia.”
“This mud has bacteria in it,” said Mamma. “You may have gotten some on yourself.” She squirted him gleefully.
“Stop that, now,” said Daddy.
“No.” Mamma got closer, squirted him in the face.
Daddy ran. “Look here now, I’m gonna end up in the hospital.”
“You have no idea exactly how true that is,” said Mamma.
She chased him around the pool deck ’til he was good and wet. Then she handed Blake the hose.
“I’m going inside to shower,” she said. “I’ve already made the tomato pie, field peas, and potato salad. The chicken is soaking in buttermilk in the refrigerator. Liz, you’ll have to fry it, and make the gravy. The biscuits are ready to bake.”
“Okay, Mamma,” I said.
“Merry, set the table, and help your sister warm things up.”
“What can I do to help?” asked Poppy.
Mamma’s shoulders raised and lowered in a long sigh. “Try to forget what you’ve seen here today.”
“Blake, after I’ve gone inside, give your father the hose. Frank, get Chumley cleaned up. Somebody please get the mud off the pool deck and where it’s tracked in the house. I can’t believe I did that. I took temporary leave of my senses.”
Thank heaven, it seemed as if she’d returned.
“I’ll wash up out here after we get the mud off the dog,” said Blake.
“I’ll help,” said Joe.
Nate said, “I’ll mop up inside.”
“I’ll help out in the kitchen,” said Poppy.
“Thank you all.” Mamma walked inside, head high, her posture impeccable.
We all watched her go. Once she was inside, Merry started to giggle. That got me started. Poppy chuckled. Blake snorted. Then we were all laughing so hard we were holding onto each other.
An hour later, Merry, Poppy, and I were in the kitchen. The dining room table was set, Nate had opened two bottles of pinot noir and put them on the table, with two in reserve on the sideboard. I took the last of the chicken out of Mamma’s two large cast iron frying pans and started the gravy.
Nate popped into the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help in here?”
“I think we’ve got it. Thank you, sweetheart.”
“I uhh…I mopped the foyer. But when your daddy took Chumley upstairs, well, the floor got all messy again. I’m going to remove that right quick before your mamma comes down.”
“Wait…Daddy took Chumley upstairs?” I turned away from the gravy to look at him.
“He got most of the mud off him, but some of it was deep into his fur. And he still stank pretty bad. Your daddy put him in the bathtub. Blake’s up there with them.”
“This isn’t good,” I said.
“Does Mamma know?” Merry asked.
“I don’t think so,” said Nate. “She hasn’t come out yet.”
“Mamma doesn’t allow Chumley in the bathtubs in the house,” I said. “He takes a bath outside. In the wintertime, he gets a bath at the vet.”
“Desperate times,” said Nate.
Merry grabbed a bottle of bleach from the pantry and handed it to Nate. “Take this up to Blake.”
“Tell him he’d better clean that bathroom up like it’s a crime scene,” I said.
“Roger that.” Nate took the bleach and left the kitchen.
“I’ll go help.” Poppy took off after Nate.
It was 8:00 before we all sat down to dinner. Merry had cut fresh hydrangeas and arranged them in a low crystal vase. I lit the candles before I took my place to Mamma’s right.
Everyone was quiet all of a sudden. I looked at Blake for assurance all was well upstairs. He nodded. Hopefully Mamma would never know Chumley had taken a bubble bath in the guest room.
Mamma drew a deep breath. She looked her usual regal self, if a bit tired. “How is Chumley?”
“The hound dog is clean as a whistle,” said Daddy. “He’s in there in his bed by my chair, taking a nap.”
“The house looks so clean. Thank you, whoever got all that mud up off the floor.”
“That was Nate,” I said.
“Of course it was,” said Mamma. “Thank you, darlin’.” She smiled warmly at Nate.
“Nothing to it,” he said.
“Dinner looks del
icious,” said Mamma. “Thank you, girls.”
“Well, Mamma, you did all the hard parts,” I said. “All we did was heat things up.”
Mamma pressed her lips together, looked at me from under her eyebrows. “Nonsense. See there, you can fry a chicken when you set your mind to it.” She held out her hands to Merry and me. “Let’s say grace.”
Mamma prayed, “Father in Heaven, thank you for this food. Bless it to our use, and us to thy service. Thank you, Father, for delivering me from the depths of that horrible, vile, sucking, mud. Thank you for my family, who set things to rights. And please, Father, be with Darius. He had a hard start in this life, Father. He’s been gone a long time, and has no doubt been led into temptation while in Hollywood. But he’s one of us, Father, part of our Stella Maris family, and he’s returned home to us. Protect him and help those who are working to clear his good name. In Jesus’ name we pray.”
We all said amen and commenced to passing serving dishes and platters.
“Mamma, you have outdone yourself once again,” I said. “This all looks amazing.”
“It’s nothing fancy,” said Mamma.
“It looks pretty fancy to me.” Poppy’s eyes were large.
Daddy poured gravy on a biscuit, looked at Blake. “You get things settled down downtown?”
Mamma glanced my way. “Your brother’s been tied up with these protesters.”
“Protesters?” I scrunched my face at her. “Who’s protesting what?”
Blake said, “People are all worked up because Darius is in jail.”
“You didn’t arrest him,” I said. “He’s not in jail here.”
“Yeah, I know,” said Blake. “Everyone just wants to show support. Reverend Wilson from over at First Baptist has a prayer vigil going. The group marched through town with signs saying, ‘Free Darius,’ and all such as that. No one showed up to argue with them, so it all worked out. Everybody’s heart’s in the right place. Except the press. They’re looking for dirt, anywhere they can find it.”
“Well, there isn’t any here,” said Mamma.
“Are you sure about that?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” asked Mamma.
“Just asking.” I was thinking about secret marriages and babies, wondering how long it would be before someone dug all that up. “I’m worried for Nell and Bill. Are they still at the B&B?”
“Yeah,” said Blake. “So far no one’s found them.”
I turned to Nate. “Where is Arianna staying?”
“Who’s Arianna?” asked Blake.
“Darius’s first ex-wife,” I said.
“How many does he have?” Blake gave me an incredulous look. “When did she get here?”
“Three,” I said, thinking about Trina Lynn, and how the number varied based on whether that marriage was legal or not. “And this afternoon. Nate brought her over.” I raised an eyebrow at my husband.
Blake looked at Nate, then at me. “What am I missing?”
Nate said, “Not a thing. She needed a ride. I gave her one. Dropped her off at Calista McQueen’s house.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I looked at him.
“E-liz-a-beth,” Mamma said. “Wrinkles. Untwist your face this instant.”
“She asked to be dropped at Calista’s house. Said she was expecting her,” said Nate.
“Well, at least she has a place to sleep,” I said. “I’d love to know the story there.”
“Would you now?” Nate grinned.
I tilted my head at him. “Did she tell you how she came to know Calista?”
“They’ve never met,” said Nate. “Calista called her right after her altercation with ex-wife number two.”
“How did she get her number?” I asked.
Nate said, “Now that, I don’t know. But Arianna hopped on her private jet and came running. She wants to help clear Darius’s name.”
Blake closed his eyes. “When are they going to release Darius?”
“Hopefully in the morning,” I said.
Blake raised his glass. “Let’s hope everything goes well at the bond hearing. Things’ll settle down once he’s home. What did Fraser say about the ex-wife at Darius’s house?”
“Oh shit. I forgot to ask him. Things have been happening fast.”
“Elizabeth. Language.” Mamma gave me the look.
“Sorry, Mamma.”
Blake said, “Well, I guess Darius can handle his ex-wives when he gets home.”
“Have there been any more press conferences?” I asked.
“Yeah, the third ex-wife had herself another one this afternoon. The folks from First Baptist came out for it. The thing is, everyone here likes Darius. Not a soul believes he killed Trina Lynn. If the TV people would just stop agitating everyone, putting microphones in peoples’ faces, asking ridiculous questions that have nothing to do with Trina Lynn’s murder, things would be fine.”
“Eat your dinner, son,” said Mamma. “All this is too upsettin’ to be discussing at the dinner table. Did you girls see there’s banana pudding in the refrigerator in the pantry?”
“Banana pudding?” Joe’s eyes got big.
“Yummy,” said Merry.
“Better save room,” said Mamma.
“I found my horn while you were out on your walk,” said Daddy. “It was hidden in the attic. I can’t imagine how it got up there, can you?”
Mamma laid down her fork. “I’m going to have a long talk with Warren Harper. The man has obviously been reading trashy new age magazines.”
“What kind of horn?” asked Poppy.
Blake said, “Dad, please.” If I were him, I’d’ve been worried too. Poppy had already seen too much crazy.
Merry said, “I think it makes perfect sense. Daddy has bronchitis. Playing a didgeridoo has been proven to be good for your lungs. How did it get in the attic?”
Merry had given Daddy the didgeridoo for Christmas a few years ago. I’d thought it was a joke—we all did. Daddy was infamous for asking for odd things to send us all on scavenger hunts at Christmas time and around his birthday. But he’d hauled it out a few months back and commenced playing it. Mamma was sorely vexed with Dr. Harper for encouraging Daddy’s musical pursuits on the grounds it might be good for his overall lung health, an idea Mamma set no store by whatsoever.
“I haven’t the faintest notion.” Mamma picked up her fork and took a bite of tomato pie.
“Maybe after supper I can play it for you,” Daddy said to Poppy.
“My nerves can’t take that this evening,” I said. Daddy made a godawful racket with that didgeridoo, perhaps similar to the moans of a wounded wooly mammoth.
“Your nerves?” Mamma looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “I’ve been shut up here with him for ten days.”
“Dad,” said Blake, “are you just bored with being sick?”
“You know what, I forgot,” said Daddy. “I’ve got to go out after dinner.”
“Go out?” Mamma stared at him. “Out where?”
“Over to the Pirates’ Den.”
“Have you lost your mind?” asked Mamma.
“The mayor, John, Robert, and I need to talk,” said Daddy.
John Glendawn and Robert Pearson were two members of our town council. Daddy was one as well. My godmother, Grace Sullivan, and I made up the rest of the current council. What was Daddy up to?
“Talk about what?” asked Mamma.
“We have business to discuss, Carolyn.” Daddy picked up a chicken leg.
“What kind of business can’t wait until you’re well?” I asked.
“I can tell you exactly what they’re up to,” said Mamma. “The mayor wants to have an informal meeting with your father and a few other members of the town council to discuss who will fill Michael Devlin’s recently vacated seat.”
“No one mentioned it to me.” I was on the town council.
“Liz, darlin’.” Mamma’s tone notified me how I was being obtuse. “You know very well how this works. Before they can officially discuss anything, these old coots have to drink over it and decide what they think, what they’re all going to say, officially.”
Daddy said, “There’s not a thing wrong with old friends getting together to talk these things over before somebody’s there writing every word we say down for God and everybody to pick over, analyze, and twist all around if they feel like it.”
“You’re sick, remember?” asked Mamma. “So sick I risked my life this afternoon to walk your dog.”
“I told you I could walk the dog.”
“And Warren Harper told you to rest.”
“So now he’s a genius and we should listen to him,” said Daddy. “But when he tells me to blow my horn, he’s a quack.”
“You have been outside too much today already,” said Mamma. “And you got wet, for heaven’s sake.”
Daddy looked at her slack-jawed. “Well whose fault is that, I’d like to know?”
Mamma inhaled slowly, smiled at Poppy, whose head was rotating back and forth between the two of them like she was watching a tennis match. “You’re not going anywhere until the doctor tells you it’s all right to be out and about.”
Blake said, “Dad.” There was a plea in his voice.
Daddy smiled at Poppy, pushed some peas onto his fork with a biscuit, and delivered the bite to his mouth. The rest of the meal passed in relative peace. We chatted about harmless things: the hydrangeas, how chicken always tastes better fried in cast iron, and Mamma’s remarkable banana pudding. Then Merry, Poppy, and I cleared the table.
We wandered into the den, where Mamma and Daddy had reconvened the discussion of Daddy going to The Pirates’ Den. “Blake, take his keys,” Mamma directed.
“I took them an hour ago,” said Blake.
“Where are my keys?” Daddy leveled a serious look at Blake.
“I’ll tell you later,” said Blake. “Poppy and I need to be heading out. Dad, try to be a more cooperative patient, would you?”
“I need my keys,” said Daddy.
LOWCOUNTRY BOOMERANG Page 15
