“Went trottin’ through here an’ out the dog do’ a while ago,” Cleta said. “Lookin’ for a spot of shade, mos’ likely.”
Emily nodded. The cool, damp patch on the front lawn, where the hose was kept hooked up for watering, was a sometimes retreat for Elvis, and there was usually at least a breath of wind off the river.
But he was not there when she looked, before going back out to the kennels. When she reached the training ring, Lulu was just coming down the stairs from her apartment. There were two sleepy puppies in her arms, and Elvis trotted beside her left heel.
“I hope it’s okay about the puppies,” she said. And, catching Emily’s look, “I really didn’t kidnap him. He just appeared and scratched at my door, so I let him in. I expect he heard the puppies up there, and was checking on them.”
“I expect so,” Emily said. Elvis trotted up to her and thrust his nose into her hand as he did when he wanted attention.
“You mustn’t bother Lulu,” she said to him in a sweet, false voice. He looked at her intently, and then licked her hand. For the rest of the afternoon, while Emily and Lulu raked and swept and spread straw and checked the nursing mothers and filled kibble and water bowls, they hardly spoke. Elvis followed at Emily’s heel and sat down gravely when she began a new chore. Emily and Lulu maintained their silence. The gap between twelve and twenty is enormous, and the one between downtown Charleston and a spaniel breeding farm is even larger. When they were done for the day, they parted with polite good-byes. Elvis trotted, grinning, beside Emily as they went into the house to get ready for supper and flopped down beside her on her bed when she stretched out after her bath.
“I’ll bet she called you up there, didn’t she?” she said to him. He grinned his doggy grin and burrowed closer.
“Well, don’t follow her around. It hurts my feelings,” Emily said, and Elvis whined and licked her face.
The next day was a repeat of the first, except that great, bulbous purple-rimmed clouds blew in from the ocean and piled up over the river, and the smell of ozone and fresh rain hung in the air.
“We’ll skip the puppies for today,” Emily said. “It’s going to pour, and we need to get the older dogs checked and fed and watered. I think it’ll storm before noon.”
At lunchtime they went from the barn out into the ring, where everything lay still and charged before the breaking of the storm. Kenny Rouse sat on the fender of his truck, just outside the fence, legs crossed. He grinned when he saw Emily and put his hands up to cup his chest as if holding breasts.
This time fury, not fear, reddened Emily’s face. Beside her Elvis began to growl softly. When Lulu came out into the sun, Kenny cupped his hands over his crotch and thrust his pelvis forward, all teeth showing. Elvis’s growl deepened.
“Who is that moron?” Lulu said, in a cool, carrying voice.
“Kenny Rouse,” Emily muttered. “He cleans and feeds sometimes when we’re not around. I don’t know why Daddy keeps him. He’s always staring at you and grinning, and touching himself. I hate him.”
“Hmmm,” Lulu said, but she said no more. She gathered up an armful of the puppies she was keeping in her apartment and nodded good-bye to Emily and went up the stairs. This time Elvis did not follow her. He went into the house with Emily, his eyes on Kenny Rouse, who still lounged on his truck looking after Lulu. Elvis’s hair was a stiff ridge on his neck.
Just after lunch, as the first fat raindrops were starting to sizzle and splatter down on the parched earth, Kenny Rouse banged on the screen door. Walter Parmenter went to answer it. Elvis growled again, deeply. Emily got up and went out into the foyer and hid in her old spot under the stairs to listen. Elvis had never growled at knocks on the door before.
“I quit,” she heard Kenny Rouse say in his lazy, nasal drawl. “You owe me for last week.”
“You weren’t here last week,” Walter said. There was no affect in his voice. He had never, Emily knew, liked Kenny Rouse, but kennel workers were few and far between.
“Well, the week before,” Kenny said sullenly.
“I don’t owe you anything,” Walter said, his voice flattening. “But it looks like somebody’s already paid you what you deserved.”
“Shit,” Kenny spat, and Emily put her head around the stair railing and looked at him. There was a perfect, small handprint on his cheek, glowing redly in the storm dusk.
He turned and swaggered off the porch, and made an obscene gesture back at the house, and stalked across the lawn and got into his truck. As he was screeching out of the turnaround, gravel flying, Emily looked toward the barn and saw Lulu standing at the bottom of the stairs, hands in pockets, rocking back and forth on her heels. She was smiling, a faint smile, and when she saw Emily she gave her a little salute, then turned and went back up her stairs.
“It’s just you ladies from now on,” Walter Parmenter said when he joined Lulu and Emily at the puppy ring early the next morning. The storm had scrubbed the earth and sky clean, and everything glistened with sunshine and coolness.
“Why is that?” Emily said innocently, not looking at Lulu.
“Rouse quit yesterday. Just quit. Didn’t even wait around for his money.”
He cocked his head at Lulu.
“Wonder why that was, now?” he said.
“What a pity,” Lulu said mildly.
Emily grinned unwillingly at Lulu, who nodded slightly.
No more was said about the defection of Kenny Rouse, but after that it was as if a tiny fissure had appeared in the lacquered wall between Emily and Lulu Foxworth.
In the days that followed, Lulu captivated the Parmenters, with the exception of Emily, with her willingness, hard work, impeccable manners, and passion for the dogs. She was proving to be a talented and intuitive trainer, and she never went up to her apartment without a brace of Daisy’s puppies. By now they were happy, cheerful pups, eager to please. It was just as Walter had said. No one saw her after she went up to the apartment at the end of the day, but sometimes they heard faint music, usually classical, and an occasional puppy squeal, and sometimes deep in the night, if Emily waked, she could see a light burning in the apartment window. Beside her, Elvis would whine, but he did not pace as he had at first, and he did not follow Lulu up her stairs again. Gradually, Lulu was weaving herself into the routine of Sweetwater, and she did it so quietly and matter-of-factly that even Emily, though grudgingly, had to admit that the arrangement was working well.
Walter Parmenter had not ceased his attempts to lure her in to dinner with them, and the twins were still scuffling and preening, but the momentum finally faded, and the posturing slowed and stopped. When Walter made yet one more attempt to invite Lulu to dinner, and was just as pleasantly and politely rebuffed as always, Jenny took him aside.
“I wouldn’t push her,” she said. “She seems to need to keep things like they are, and if you push, she’ll just leave, and then what will you do about the Hunt Club?”
So Walter gave up, and in the hot nights, the light in Lulu’s window burned late, and sometimes Emily would wake and hear Elvis, pacing once more.
“It’s none of your business,” she said sleepily to him, and he jumped back into bed with her and snuggled into sleep.
7
ON THE FIRST OF JULY, Rhett and Maybelle Foxworth came to visit Lulu. They had not come before; Emily wondered why, and once asked her aunt.
“I don’t imagine it’s their choice,” Jenny said.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and for once the Lowcountry was behaving as it did in the dreams of people who had left it a long time before but never stopped aching for it. The air was soft and sweet with the scent of flowers both close by and borne in from faraway by the river wind. It was cool in the deep shade of the front porch, and not really hot when you went out onto the lawn and down to the river or back toward the kennels and barn. The sucking humidity had lifted temporarily and the sky and reflecting river were so blue that they almost hurt the eye. The wind that lifted with th
e incoming tide made the river, running full, glitter and dance, and off on the faraway hummocks, and even to the woodland beyond, you could see the sharp details of palmettos and soft webs of moss and resurrection ferns, the shivering of the small live oak leaves, and the ink black trunks of the forest trees.
Every citizen of the water and marsh and sky seemed to put in a courtesy appearance for the Foxworths: mullet jumped in the river, shrimps popped, turtles splashed into the water from mossy banks, ospreys dived and wheeled in the blue vault of the sky, and even the young eagle who lived across the river, on the edge of the wood, swept by, casting a prehistoric shadow. Off on the hummocks the ensigns of the white-tailed deer flashed in the deep shadows, and from Sweetwater Creek, the roar of a big bull alligator drifted across the peninsula.
“Why, it’s lovely here, isn’t it?” Maybelle Foxworth said. She wore a flowered shirtwaist, and a blue band held her helmet of gilded hair off her face. “It’s the kind of day that makes you remember why you wanted a plantation in the first place. Yours is such a sweet place. It’s very like Maybud, don’t you think, Rhett?”
“I think it’s got a lot of what I wish Maybud had,” Rhett Foxworth said genially, his baby’s face, snub as a .45 pistol, turned to the river and the woods beyond.
“It’s got enough uncut field and pasture land, and the ridge back there we saw coming in, for some great upland hunting. We’ve got the wetland, but we don’t have that. Like to hunt it sometime.”
“Anytime,” Walter Parmenter beamed. “Just say the word.”
They sat in the old wicker armchairs and glider that had been on the porch as long as Emily could remember. They looked better, though. Walter had made the grumbling twins give it all a new coat of dark Charleston green, and Cleta had washed and ironed the cushion covers. Jenny had brought some of her prized green plants and hanging baskets from her small balcony, and somebody had dragged the molting rubber plant that mourned its life away in Walter’s office, and trimmed it, and polished its leaves. Two or three days of sun and air had restored it to some of its former Victorian grandeur. Emily had a fleeting glimpse, in her mind’s eye, of what this porch, and indeed the whole house, might have looked like in its glory days.
Cleta brought out mint iced tea and the cheese straws that Jenny had made earlier, and everyone but Emily and Lulu ate and drank and pronounced it all wonderful. Lulu was once again as still and white as when she had first come and Emily felt unsettled and apprehensive, though at what she did not know. She disliked the long flowered skirt and yellow sleeveless T-shirt Jenny had bought her, and she disliked the senior Foxworths. She wished that they would go away so that this perfect day could be given its due.
“Lulu,” Maybelle said, putting down her iced tea with the air of someone getting down to business, “you’re looking well, sweetie. I was afraid, you know, that maybe the isolation and all…but you do look rested, and I think you just may have gained a teeny bit of weight. Are you getting lots and lots of rest? Are you taking long walks and enjoying this pretty place? Have you had a swim yet?”
“Mostly I’m working with the dogs, Mother,” Lulu said evenly. “But yes, I get plenty of rest when the day’s over.”
“Don’t you just adore her little nest?” Maybelle burbled, looking fondly at her daughter, who did not return the look.
“Well….” Jenny said hesitantly.
“I haven’t had them up, Mother,” Lulu said. Her voice tightened slightly. “Everybody’s so tired at the end of the day that I hate to insist they come see my…nest.”
“Lulu, that’s really very rude of you,” her mother said. “We’ll go and have a peek before we leave.”
“Maybe Lulu hasn’t gotten it quite like she wants it,” Jenny said hastily, and Lulu shot her a grateful look.
“Yes, I’m still moving things around,” she said.
“I had it just perfect, sweetie,” her mother said, pouting a bit. It would have been effective if her pink lipstick had not smeared on her front teeth. “I couldn’t wait for you to show it off. Don’t fiddle with it too much. I thought it was just you.”
Lulu said nothing.
“I guess you’ve noticed that we brought your car out for you,” Maybelle went on. She nodded toward the little red BMW, whose top was down, red lacquer gleaming. “Your daddy had it repainted. Doesn’t it look pretty?”
Pretty was not the word Emily would have used. The little car was perfect, jewel-like, like a fine netsuke carving or a Fabergé egg. Walt Junior and Carter were practically quivering with the desire to put down their glasses and dash out to inspect it. Even Cleta, coming in and out with refills, looked at it and shook her head and smiled. “MMMM Mmmmm! That some car,” she said.
Still, Lulu said nothing. Emily noticed that the muscles beside her mouth were clenched and a small vein throbbed in her temple. Lulu’s face was like the satiny mask of a geisha, but anger was breaking through, crumbling it. Emily had never seen anger on that face before. She stared, fascinated.
“Thank you, Mama, but you know I don’t want the car out here,” Lulu said. Her voice was perfectly level. “I told you that from the beginning, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but everybody changes their mind, lovey. It’s been a long time now. All your friends miss you. They’re all talking about you, wondering why you’ve buried yourself out here in…ah, this pretty place. I thought you might not want to disturb these nice people by having visitors out here, but with the car you could run into town whenever you wanted to for a little lunch or something. Or you could meet halfway. Sister’s at Jasmine, that’s not far at all, and Missy Longstreet is having a house party in a couple of weeks for her roommate, the one from Virginia. Everybody you know will be there. I said I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t leave your little nun’s cell—not that it isn’t divine out here—and come. Surely your sweet doggies could spare you for a few hours a week.”
She looked at Walter and smiled brilliantly.
“Of course,” he said. “Emily can easily take over.”
Yeah, right, Emily thought.
Lulu drew a deep breath. “Mother,” she said, “I work very hard out here all day long. I’m doing a good job, I think. The puppies are coming along just wonderfully, and I don’t want to break the momentum with them. I’m doing valuable work for a change. I’m not going to just leave and go into town on a whim for lunch with somebody I’ve known since Miss Hanahan’s, and I’m not coming to Maybud, and I’m not going to Missy’s stupid house party. I told you I wasn’t going to leave here until at least September, or until they threw me out, and I meant it. I’m happier here than I’ve been in a long time.” (“Happy?” Emily thought.) “So you’ll just have to take the car back.”
She stopped and looked around, and said, in her low voice, “I must sound ungrateful and very rude. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
The Parmenters all nodded vigorously.
“Lulu…” her mother began. Lulu stood up, suddenly and stiffly.
“Please excuse me,” she said formally. “I haven’t fed Giddy’s puppies yet, and the big dogs need a run.”
She turned as if to leave.
“Lulu!” Maybelle’s voice was no longer lilting and teasing.
“Emily will be glad to do it for you if you want to visit with your parents a while longer,” Walter said.
Emily glared at him. She had planned to take Elvis over to the dolphin slide that afternoon. They might be there, it had been so hot….
“No,” Lulu said. Her voice was steel. “I love doing it. Besides, I talk to Mama every day on my cell phone. Mama, I’ll call you tonight. Excuse me.”
And she was gone. But before she turned, Emily had seen tears on her smooth bisque cheeks. Unwilling pity twisted her heart. The Foxworths really were awful. Or at least, Maybelle was.
“I’d have left too,” she said to herself.
There was a long, stinging silence, and then Maybelle Foxworth said sweetly, “She’s such an impulsive thing. She
always was, wasn’t she, Rhett? I hope you don’t think she was raised to behave like this. She’s been so overtired….”
“Don’t give it another thought,” Jenny said warmly. “She’s really working very hard, and she’s just a natural with the dogs. I can remember some truly spectacular scenes with my mother. Lulu couldn’t hold a candle to me at that age.”
Emily looked at her aunt; she could not imagine Jenny Raiford making a spectacular scene with anyone.
Maybelle Foxworth half-rose from her chair, obviously ready to concede the field to her daughter and flee. But Walter said genially and loudly, “You can’t go yet! Jenny and Emily made their special strawberry shortcake just for today. You have to have a piece before you go.”
Emily looked wildly at her aunt. Strawberry shortcake? Jenny would not meet her eyes.
“Well, just a bite,” Maybelle murmured, and sank back into her chair. Emily did not think she had ever seen anyone so anxious to be somewhere else.
Cleta brought the shortcake and the Foxworths sat nibbling it, poised on the edge of their seats. Emily’s face and neck burned. Didn’t he realize? Couldn’t he see? The Foxworths had been slumming all along, and doing it so well that no one had noticed. Until now.
“Emily, come and join us,” her father said, and she got up apprehensively out of her chair and went to sit beside her father on the glider.
“I’ve heard that you’re very active in the affairs of Charlotte Hall,” he said to Maybelle Foxworth. Emily could feel her face drain white, and then flame.
“Well, I’m an alumna,” Maybelle said stiffly. “As was my mother, and as is Lulu.”
“I’m considering schools for Emily here, and I wondered if you thought Charlotte Hall would be suitable for her. Her grades are top-notch, and of course she has long Charleston ties, through her mother’s family.”
“Her mother. Yes,” Maybelle said in the tone that one would use in charming a cobra. “I think I was at a party or something with her before I married,” Maybelle went on. “Very vivacious and so vivid, wasn’t she? We all wondered who she was. Oh, and of course you would have been there,” she turned her shark’s smile on Jenny. “I think your sister was still in school, but I remember that you had just graduated from…was it North Charleston Community College?”
Sweetwater Creek Page 12
