A hurricane warning is in effect tonight through Sunday as Hurricane Melissa makes her way toward the Lowcountry of South Carolina. Winds are out of the east/southeast and expected to exceed seventy-five miles per hour as the storm approaches with gusts maybe as high as ninety miles per hour. This is still a Category One storm but what happens in the next twenty-four hours can change all that. And just to remind our listeners, this might be a good time to bring in your porch furniture, secure those garbage cans, and make your property storm-ready. Make sure you have plenty of working batteries and drinkable water in case you lose power. For more comprehensive information on how to hurricane proof your home and to protect your loved ones go to Live5news.com.
“I’m not too impressed,” I said. “Looks like more of a wind maker than a rainmaker.”
“You’re not impressed?” she said.
“Heck no. I grew up with hurricanes always threatening to blow us to kingdom come. This is going to be messy but it’s not really dangerous. Unless it gets here on a high tide and a full moon. The moon’s not full, is it?”
We googled the phases of the moon on our phones.
“On the wane,” I said.
“Yeah, but it’s still pretty full.”
“Yeah, that’s not so great,” I admitted. “When is it supposed to make landfall here?”
“I don’t think they’re too sure it’s going to make landfall in South Carolina at all. At least not yet.”
“So let’s just leave the television on then. You feel like breakfast?”
“French toast made from diet bread, egg whites, and low sugar syrup?”
“Why not? I’ll nuke us some center cut bacon,” I said. “Three strips for only seventy calories.”
“Well, now that we are both officially back on the market, we have to watch it, don’t you think?”
“I think I’m not thinking about it yet,” I said as I poured a lot of real half-and-half into my mug of coffee. “Dieting is too stupid, and so is thinking of us as merchandise.”
“You’re right, of course. But my clothes are too tight.”
“That’s different. Let’s give up meat and dairy.”
“Except for bacon and yogurt.”
“Deal. Starting Monday.”
It made me laugh to think about how we’d devise these ridiculous plans to save calories when it seemed like we never lost a pound unless we flat-out starved and worked out like Olympians.
I never went to work. Bill and Judy Turner said they weren’t really expecting to see anyone that day. Rain was bad for business. I was just as happy to stay home and help Mary Beth make sandwiches.
Tommy rolled in around three with Ed and Ursula and they began bringing in all the boxes of glasses and the party tables from the cottage.
“Check out my very cool bow tie!” he said, unwrapping the tissue paper and holding it up to his neck.
“Awesome,” I said and giggled.
“I’ll just put it on the piano until later,” he said and left the room.
“Like an art object,” Mary Beth said and laughed.
“Exactly!” Tommy said, stepping back into the kitchen and smiling. “But I have to tell y’all, I think it’s getting worse out there. Seriously. I said to Ed that maybe we should try to set the bar up indoors but he said, and he’s right, that the whole point of this party is to be out on the portico and watch the sun going down. The sun, my friends, is nowhere to be seen.”
“How about the Ravenel Bridge is swinging in the breeze a little?” Ed said. “I didn’t say anything about it when I first came in because it seemed like the rain and wind were letting up. Bottom line? It’s not.”
“And the harbor out front is crazy water, choppy, swirling around like it shouldn’t be doing,” Tommy said. “I don’t know, y’all.”
“This is not good,” Mary Beth said.
We flipped on the television, and, sure enough, over the past few hours the storm had been upgraded to a Category Two and was predicted to go to a Three by nine that night. The airport was a ghost town, speed limits were reduced to twenty-five miles per hour on the bridges, and Charleston was all but officially closed.
“That’s it,” I said. We looked at one another already knowing our party was not going to happen. No way in hell! “Y’all? We need to cancel this thing. It’s insane. What if there are wrecks or whatever? What if somebody gets hurt? We might get sued, which means my parents will get sued and then Mary Beth and I would be homeless.”
“Shoot,” Mary Beth said. “You’re right.”
“What about all the food?” Tommy said.
“The only thing we’d really lose is the shrimp salad, which y’all should take some home, or we could just come back here Sunday when the storm is gone and have our own party, couldn’t we?” I said.
“My mother would just save it and serve it on Sunday. She’d give the shrimp more lemon juice and tell us to eat it anyway,” Mary Beth said.
“Classic,” Tommy said and smiled his goofy lopsided smile, loading big scoops of the salad into a plastic bag for himself and then another one for Ed. “Ursula? You want some?”
“Sí!” she said.
“I’m betting very few people would show up anyway,” Ed said. “I mean, who goes out in this weather?”
He was probably right, but we started texting and tweeting as fast as we could, putting the kibosh on what was supposed to have been our final soiree. We agreed that maybe we’d just reschedule for a couple of weeks later. The shelf life on vodka, frozen pigs in blankets, cheese and crackers and tortilla chips was pretty much good until Thanksgiving or longer.
In the middle of our flurry of messaging and racing around, transferring things back to the cottage, my phone rang. It was Porter. I walked out to the hall and answered it.
“Hello?” I was very unexcited to hear his voice.
“Ashley? It’s Porter.”
“I know that.” I hoped it sounded like I was saying, so what?
“What’s the matter?”
I could detect a trace of panic in his voice.
“What do you mean, what’s the matter?”
He was silent then. Did he think all he had to do was pick up the phone and everything would be okay between us again?
“Are you staying out at the beach during the storm?”
“I haven’t decided,” I said as evenly as I could, hoping it sounded like, why should I tell you?
“Ashley? You haven’t told anyone, have you?”
So was this what he thought somebody with a conscience acted like?
“You mean, did I tell anyone what you did to me?”
“You wouldn’t dare. And besides, you know you wanted it. Anyway, it would be your word against mine and who would believe . . .”
“Don’t you dare threaten me, you, you . . . bastard!” I said and pressed the end button.
Was he serious? No one would take my word over his? If I’d gone to the ER that night they could’ve had enough DNA to hang him by his toes! I went back into the kitchen where everyone was still frantically repacking glasses into boxes and putting food back into shopping bags. I was so angry I was practically hyperventilating. I had to hold on to the side of the counter while I tried to calm myself down.
“What’s wrong?” Mary Beth said. “He called again? What now?”
“I can’t talk about it,” I said. My face and neck were so hot and my heart was pounding in my ears. He threatened me. And he said I had no credibility.
Tommy was standing there with the last load of boxes in his arms, listening but not saying a word.
“I think I’m going downtown,” I said. “Mary Beth, let’s close up the house and go to my mom’s. I’ll call her on the way and let her know.”
“I agree,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“
Good idea,” Tommy said. “Let’s get off the island. I’ll take Ed.”
“I can drop off Ursula,” Mary Beth said. “You want to ride with me, Ash?”
“No, I’m going to take my car and I want to just go over all the windows and everything once more before I leave.”
Within the next fifteen minutes or so, everyone was gone. It didn’t seem like it was raining so badly then. I thought about just staying the night by myself. I didn’t really feel like being with my mom and a houseful of people. But I knew the storm would get worse. It would. And the wind would grow even stronger. Of course, there were other dangers to be considered. The house might flood, a tree might come through it, or we might lose power. You just never knew. The whole house might blow away. But I knew enough to know when to head for the hills and that was the plan. I was going to my mother’s and somehow I would suppress my anger at Porter and no one would know.
I threw pajamas and a bunch of underwear in a tote bag and my cosmetics that I thought I’d want. I took my laptop and my chargers and threw them in too. Then I took what jewelry I had that was worth anything and put it in a sock, burying it in the bottom of my tote.
I checked and double-checked to see that all the windows were locked and then I locked the front door and raced to my car. I didn’t set the alarm because who robs houses in a hurricane? I called my mom.
“Mom? Are you home?”
“Yes! We closed early. I’m here with Maisie and Skipper. Are you coming home? I’ll tell you these fool weathermen had me thinking tomorrow was the worst day of the storm, but no! They’re wrong again.”
“I’m on my way and Mary Beth too.”
“Well, thank God. Just take your time, all right? The wind is fierce. Go slowly on the bridge.”
“I will. Don’t worry. I’m already in the car. I’ll see you soon.”
I drove on and it was true, the weather was just dreadful. The water was almost to the top of the causeway. And just as I came to the traffic light at Rifle Range Road I realized I’d left my shoebox of cash behind. I swung my car around through the gas station and headed back to the island. I was only ten minutes away from the house. With my luck it would be the first hurricane in the history of Sullivans Island besieged by looters.
I pulled into the yard and there were pools of water everywhere. I looked at the cottage once more, thinking about my paintings and wondering if it would be better to move them to the second floor of the big house. I should have thought of that a couple of hours ago, I decided. I hopped out of the car with just my keys and made a run for the front steps. It took a minute to get the door open but I finally did, the ferocious wind grabbing the door away from me and slamming it against the wall of the foyer. The doorknob left an indentation in the plaster. My mother was going to give me the devil about that.
“Oh, fine!” I shouted to the house and left the door open, making a beeline for my bedroom closet.
As quickly as I could, I emptied the contents of the box onto my bed and stuffed all the money into another purse that had a zipper running across the top. I hurried out toward the front door and there stood Porter.
“What are you doing here?”
“I thought we needed to have a little talk, Ashley.” His tone was threatening.
“About what?” I said. I was suddenly frightened.
“About what you said to me. Do you understand what would happen if anyone thought I had raped a woman? Do you understand that it would ruin my whole career? Do you?”
All I could think at that moment was that I wasn’t going to lie for him, not then or ever. I don’t know what possessed me to give me such courage.
“Well, Porter, you didn’t seem to care about that when you held me down on my bed, did you?”
I never even saw his fist coming, but he hit me on my cheek, and then with the back of his hand he slapped my face, splitting my lip. I fell back against the wall and he started choking me. I couldn’t breathe.
“You insignificant little whore,” he said, “you’d better learn to keep your mouth shut or next time . . .”
Right before I thought I was going to black out, I saw Tommy’s face. He grabbed Porter by the back of his jacket and spun him around. Then in a series of moves that had to be the chops and kicks of some kind of martial arts, he whipped Porter’s ass. When Porter was knocked completely unconscious, Tommy looked at me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, but my voice was raspy and I was shaking from head to toe.
He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911.
“I never liked this guy. Told you he was an asshole.” Tommy came over, put his arm around me, and gave me a squeeze. “Let’s get you a cold cloth.”
We stumbled to the kitchen, threw a clean dish towel in the sink, covered it with cold water, and wrung it out. Tommy gave the details of what had happened to the authorities and where we were. In minutes I heard sirens.
There was a police car, a fire engine, and an ambulance in the yard.
“Why’d you come back, Tommy?”
“To get my tie. That thing cost almost a hundred dollars!”
“Really?”
“And I had a bad feeling.” He smiled at me.
I could feel my lip starting to swell. And there was blood all over me.
The police were suddenly inside the house and when they saw Porter on the floor, they recognized him and called for a stretcher.
“What happened here?” said the police officer. “Isn’t that guy a senator? What did he do?”
“He was trying to choke her when I got here,” Tommy said.
“No, he wasn’t,” I said and then I stopped.
My mother, Mary Beth, and Maisie were also there.
My mother said, “We’ve been calling your cell phone for almost an hour! I was frightened out of my mind! Are you all right? Oh my God! What did he do to you?”
“What the hell, Ash?” Mary Beth said.
“Oh, my poor sweet girl! Come here and let me see your lip,” Maisie said.
Before I could move, the officer said, “It looks like the senator has some explaining to do. Do you want to press charges, young lady? I’m gonna need everyone’s names and some ID.”
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” my mother said. “She wants to press charges. Ashley. You have to. It’s the right thing to do.”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Liz!” Maisie said. “Why in heaven’s name do you want to subject your daughter to a public free-for-all? It won’t do any good. It won’t change anything.”
“Oh, yes it will. Do you understand that if this sweet young man—what’s your name, son?”
“Tommy. Tommy Milano.”
“Mother, if it hadn’t been for Tommy here, we’d be planning a funeral for my daughter for the same reasons we buried Juliet.”
“What are you talking about? Juliet died from an aneurysm,” Maisie said.
“An aneurysm caused by a head injury caused by abuse. Her stupid abusive boyfriend banged her head on the floor!”
“He did no such thing.”
By now, there was a small audience of people with dropped jaws, just listening. Except for Galloway who was handcuffed to the gurney and bellowing about his rights.
“Ashley!” he screamed. “Tell them the truth! Tell them Tommy did this to you and I was trying to save you! It was not me! Tell them!”
I walked over and looked him right in the eyes.
“I’m not lying for you, Porter,” I said.
“We really could have had something,” he said and closed his eyes.
“Juliet’s boyfriend did no such thing,” Maisie said again. “He was a lovely man.”
“No, he wasn’t and, yes, he did,” my mother insisted. “You knew it and I knew it and we denied it for years! Why do y
ou think I do the work I do?”
“I’m sorry, Liz,” Maisie said and she started to weep. “Oh, God.”
“What’s done is done, Maisie.”
“I should’ve been more honest with myself and you. All these years, we’ve carried Juliet’s tragic death in our hearts and silently, I blame myself.”
“Don’t do that, Mom.”
My mother called Maisie Mom.
“But you don’t understand! Ashley is just so much like my Juliet. I just wanted to do the things for her that I would’ve done for your sister if she had lived. That’s all.”
“We can’t change the past. If I couldn’t help my only sister, at least I can help others. But, most of all, I’ll be damned straight to hell if I’m going to stand by and watch my daughter be strangled and pummeled by this scum.”
“You’re right,” Maisie said.
“So, yes, we’re going to court and, yes, it’s going to be messy but this is the last time Porter Galloway is going to hurt anyone and most of all, my daughter. Ashley? Are you with me?”
“One hundred percent,” I said and I began to cry. This was all too much for me. I was completely overwhelmed.
I watched and listened as the police officer read Porter his Miranda rights and the EMS attendants rolled him out of the house.
“You’re going to regret this!” Porter screamed.
Mom leaned over Porter’s face and said quietly, “No. We won’t, but you will.”
A chill ran through my body.
“You okay now?” Tommy said.
“I think so. Tommy—thank you.”
“Sure,” he said. “Officer? Do I need to come with you?”
“Yes, you do. I just want to get a few more details from Ashley. You all right, sweetheart?”
“I’m fine,” I said.
But I wasn’t fine. Mary Beth put some ice in a baggie and covered it with a thin towel and handed it to me.
“Hold this on your cheek for a few minutes and then switch it to your lip,” she said.
“Thanks,” I said, and we exchanged looks of horror and disbelief.
I answered the officer’s questions while my mother, who was also weeping, held my free hand. I had never loved her as much as I did then. She only left me for a brief moment when she walked the police officer and Tommy to the door and then it was just us—Maisie, my mother, Mary Beth, and me.
The Hurricane Sisters: A Novel Page 27
