The Guests on South Battery

by Karen White

  I stopped pushing, Sophie’s words resonating with me. Why had Button left Hasell’s room untouched all those years, almost as a shrine, and then left the disposal of it to a perfect stranger?

  “Why are you letting him do that?” Sophie asked, watching JJ gnaw on the metal safety bar.

  “You said we should let our children touch things so they’re exposed to germs.”

  She reached over and gently lifted JJ’s head. “Within reason. That’s metal. Why are you letting your baby chew on metal?”

  I whipped out a cloth diaper from the diaper bag—Jayne kept it well stocked according to my checklist I kept next to it in the mudroom. At least that was one thing she did according to my instructions. While Sophie was busy hoisting Skye up in the swing to keep her from slipping out one of the leg holes, I knotted the clean and bleached diaper around the safety bar just in case JJ felt like chewing on it again.

  We resumed pushing, enjoying the quiet morning in the park and watching off-leash dogs running in circles as if they couldn’t believe their luck at being set free. I’d brought General Lee, Porgy, and Bess here once, but the puppies had been insistent on running in opposite directions, and General Lee was torn among trying to supervise them, and barking them into submission, and chasing something—or someone—that only he could see. I’d been more exhausted than they had when we returned home, and I’d sworn to never do that again.

  “So, how’s Jayne working out as a nanny?” Sophie asked. She had opted to share parenting duties with her husband, Chad, an art history professor at the college, instead of hiring a nanny, and the two of them took turns wearing baby Skye while they taught classes. I had no idea what they planned to do once the baby was big enough to walk, but I was sure it would be as unappealing to me as wearing my baby to work.

  “All in all, pretty great,” I said, remembering the broken night-light, the rearranged nursery, and the incomplete spreadsheets. “The children really respond to her and seem to love her, so that’s all good.” I could see her preparing to ask a more pointed question, so—always one to avoid conflict—I said, “And Jack says she has the patience of Job dealing with the twins.” He’d added “and you,” but I refrained from mentioning that part to Sophie.

  “It doesn’t bother you that she’s so attractive?” Sophie managed to squeeze in.

  There. She’d said it. The way Sophie could read my mind was pretty close to psychic. It was why she was my best friend. Because she and I both knew that I could never avoid the ugly truth when she was around. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t going to try.

  “Is she?” I said. “I guess she’s pretty, in an all-American athletic kind of way. I don’t think blond is her natural hair color, so she’s probably closer to average when she wears her hair naturally.”

  Sophie responded with raised eyebrows.

  “Come on, Sophie. She’s the nanny. So what if she’s attractive?”

  She sighed. “I think I should read your tarot cards again.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think there are certain . . . undertones . . . in your life that you should be aware of. I just get these weird vibes from Jayne. It doesn’t mean anything, probably, and most likely it’s just because she looks so darn familiar, but I can’t place it. That’s probably what’s so unsettling to me, not that I think there’s something going on.”

  I stopped pushing. “Going on?”

  She waved her hand in the air. “That didn’t come out right, either. What I meant is that Jayne’s uncertain background and the way she looks so familiar just give me pause. I think I’ll be happier than even she will be if and when Jack figures out why Button Pinckney left her the house. And I’m sure that what I saw was exactly what they said it was.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “That didn’t come out the right way. I swear I’m morphing into Rebecca here. What I meant to say is that a couple of days ago I dropped by to say hello to you and to ask Jayne a question about the new kitchen we’re putting in—if she wanted to keep the servants’ bells as a piece of artwork. She and Jack were, oh, there’s really no better way to put this, but they had their arms around each other standing right there in the middle of the foyer—I let myself in because the doorbell wasn’t working again. They were each holding a golf club, and there were plastic cups and golf balls all over the place. Jack said she was teaching him a trick shot.”

  “A trick?”

  “Look, Melanie, I’m sure it’s exactly as they said. Jack loves you, and would never do anything to compromise that. But she is attractive and she’s living under your roof. Don’t get me wrong—I like her, too. There’s just something . . . uncanny about her.” She shrugged. “I just wanted to let you know.”

  I felt ill all of a sudden. “I think I should go home. I need to take a shower before work, and it takes forever these days to find something in my closet that fits.” I turned away, embarrassed to find myself so close to tears.

  Sophie lifted out Blue Skye and tucked her into her front carrier. “I’m here anytime for a tarot reading. Just let me know.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said, strapping the babies back into the stroller. “I’ll call you.”

  After transferring the babies and stroller into the Volvo, I drove home slowly, my thoughts warring between anger and tears before eventually settling somewhere between rational thought and incredulity. I was a big girl now. The new, mature Melanie. I could discuss anything with Jack because I trusted him. We were married. Life partners. I wasn’t the same insecure Melanie Middleton he’d first met, the woman who’d fake a foreign accent just so she could pretend to be somebody else on the other end of the phone.

  With renewed confidence, I parked the car in the carriage house and hoisted each child in my arms, entering the house through the kitchen. I heard them laughing from somewhere inside the house, the sound of a golf ball being struck as loud as a firecracker in my ears. I listened to all three dogs barking and scampering after what sounded like a ball rolling across the hard floor, followed by a shout of laughter from Jack. Then there was a silence so loud and pregnant that I couldn’t move, could barely breathe. A silence that seemed to go on and on. Even my heartbeats seemed leaden. The children watched me in absolute silence, as if they, too, wondered what was happening on the other side of the kitchen door.

  I forgot all about the new Melanie, leaving her on her knees panting in the dust. Quietly, I stepped back through the kitchen and let myself out the door, closing it softly behind us.

  CHAPTER 20

  Iglanced up at the sound of a car door slamming and saw my mother’s car parked behind mine in the driveway at the Pinckney mansion on South Battery. It was a Sunday, so the workmen’s trucks were gone, although the overflowing Dumpster still monopolized most of the driveway.

  She wore a long and drapey red sweater over a black blouse and cigarette pants, with small, dainty kitten heels on her feet. Red leather gloves covered her hands up over her wrists. She looked beautiful as always, and way too young to be my mother. The only thing marring her features as she approached me was the small crease in her brow caused by her expression of concern when she regarded me.

  She sat down next to me on the brick steps, unaware or uncaring of their dusty nature. “Are you all right, Mellie?”

  I sniffed. “Just a spring cold,” I said, adding a cough just in case the sniffing wasn’t enough to convince her.

  “You told me it was allergies on the phone,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, I think it might be both.”

  She frowned at me. “What’s wrong, Mellie? Did you and Jack have a fight?”

  Maybe it was the last twenty-four hours of misery and lack of sleep, but like a hairline crack in a dam during a flood, that nudge of compassion immediately destroyed all my composure, allowing every self-pitying fiber in my body to spill out onto my mother’s shoulder.

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nbsp; She held me tightly and patted my back the way I did to JJ when I tried to tell him that he couldn’t eat dirt. “Now, now, Mellie. It can’t be as bad as all that. Why don’t you tell me about it so we can figure this out together?”

  “It’s Jack,” I sobbed. “And Jayne.”

  She drew back and for a moment I thought she was upset about the makeup and tears saturating her sweater. “What about Jack and Jayne?”

  “When I came home on Friday after walking in the park with Sophie and the babies, he and Jayne were in the foyer.” I stopped, hoping she would use her psychic abilities so I wouldn’t have to finish the story.

  “Okay. They were in the foyer. And then what happened?”

  I sighed. Why did this psychic gift never work when I needed it to? “I heard them. I think they were practicing golf swings or something—”

  “In the house?” she interrupted. “You’d better not let Sophie know. She’d have a fit and probably plaster them both up in a wall.”

  Fresh tears sprang to my eyes as I imagined Jack and Jayne stuck together for all eternity.

  Ginette resumed patting my back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I was just trying to lighten the mood. So what happened next?”

  “Well,” I sniffed, “I heard the sound of a club hitting a ball and then the ball rolling. Jack laughed at something and then . . .”

  “And then?” She leaned forward.

  “Nothing. Not a sound. Not a word or another laugh. Nothing. Silence.”

  “And when you walked into the foyer, what was going on?”

  I stared at my mother, stricken. “What do you mean? I didn’t want to walk in on them!”

  She stared back at me for a long moment, blinking. “You didn’t go in to see what was going on?”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t. I didn’t want to see them . . .”

  “See them what, Mellie?”

  I shrugged, not wanting to put my fears into words. “You know.”

  Ginette sat back and took a deep breath. “Actually, I don’t. Because you didn’t go in to see for yourself and instead allowed your imagination to fill in the blanks.”

  “But what else could they be doing besides . . . besides . . . hanky-panky?” I spat out, using Jack’s words that suddenly sounded worse than if I’d used the word “fornication.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, pretending to think. “Practicing their putting, maybe? Admiring a painting? Or maybe they’d walked into another room and you couldn’t hear them. There are dozens of things they could have been doing that could never be called ‘hanky-panky.’” She gave me a settling look. “So, what did Jack say when you asked him about it?”

  I became suddenly very interested in studying my cuticles.

  As if following my train of thought, she gently took hold of my chin with her thumb and index finger and forced me to look at her. “What did Jack say, Mellie? It’s been almost two days. Surely you’ve talked to him by now.”

  I shook my head, dislodging a drip from the end of my nose. “I couldn’t. I’ve been hiding out in the guest room pretending I have the flu and sneaking into the nursery when Jayne isn’t around so I can see the children.”

  She put her fingers on her temples and I was encouraged, thinking she was channeling somebody to help me. Instead she just shook her head. “This is worse than I thought. Mellie, sweetheart, what happened to your resolution to be a better version of yourself? You’re a wife and mother now. You need to be more open and honest in all your relationships—especially your marriage. You deserve it, and—more important—your children deserve it. Jack loves you, Mellie. I have never for a single moment doubted that, and I don’t believe you do, either. Regardless of what was going on in that foyer, you owe it to yourself, your marriage, and your children to find out and deal with it.”

  She reached over and took both my hands in her gloved ones. “Promise me that you’ll deal with this tonight? That you’ll talk with Jack and get this all sorted out?” Her lips twitched into a small smile. “I must say makeup sex is always the best sex.”

  I pulled away, thoroughly disgusted. “Ew, Mother. Please don’t ever use the word ‘sex’ in my hearing—especially when I know you’re referring to you and Dad. It’s just . . . wrong.”

  “I have no idea why you think that way, Mellie. After all, how else do you think you got here?”

  I shuddered again and she laughed. “All right. I’ll try not to say it again in your hearing. But promise me you’ll talk to Jack? Tonight. Don’t let this fester any longer.”

  “But what if—”

  She put her finger on my lips to silence me. “Just find out. I’m sure it’s not anything near as dire as you think. You’ll never know until you talk it out with Jack. I know you prefer the head-in-the-sand approach that you apply to most ghosts, but I don’t think that’s worked out very well for you, either, has it?”

  “No, but . . .”

  She gave me a look that made me stop what I was about to say.

  I made no move to go inside, and not just because of the waves of energy beyond the door in the house behind us, the pulsing against the weather-beaten wood and peeling paint like little fists.

  “Mother, can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course. Anything. I hope you realize how desperate I am to make up for all those absent years when a girl needs her mother most.”

  I blinked at her, my eyes prickling with moisture. “Am I fat?”

  “What?” She actually leaned away from me, as if I’d uttered a really bad expletive.

  “Am I fat? I need you to be honest with me.”

  She took a deep breath and settled back into her place next to me. “No, Mellie. You’re not fat by anyone’s definition. You’ve definitely filled out more since your pregnancy, but it suits you. You might have been a little too thin before—although I have no idea how you managed that, since I’ve never seen a person eat that much junk food and not be the size of a house—but with the added pounds you have female curves in all the right places.”

  “So you’re saying you can tell that I’ve gained weight?”

  “Sweetheart, your body has just created two of the most precious children—you should honor it by adoring it and treating it well. Most important, you need to realize that dress size is only a number. A woman can be beautiful in any size, as long as she conducts herself with self-confidence. That alone is worth all the makeup and expensive clothes in the world.”

  I leaned into her. “Where were you when I was sixteen and really needed to hear this?”

  “Yes, well, that’s part of your problem, I’m afraid. But we’ll work through this together, all right?”

  I nodded, then sniffed. “Jayne has the body I used to have, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes, she does. Well, except for the bust. You never had a bust like that. But you’re not Jayne. And Jack picked you. Never forget that.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “If it means anything to you, I’d say you’ve more than made up for lost time. It seems a shame that all your wisdom is wasted on just one child.”

  A shadow passed over her face, and I looked up, surprised to find a bright blue and cloudless sky. She smiled, casting aside any hint of clouds or shadows. “Yes, well, that’s what grandchildren are for. And because of you, I now have three whom I adore. So really I should be thanking you for making my old age not nearly as bleak as I once imagined it might be.”

  Without a tissue I resorted to wiping my nose with the back of my hand while my mother pretended not to notice. “So,” I said as I stood, “you ready to fight some ghosts?”

  My mother stood, too, delicately wiping the seat of her pants as we turned to look up at the house. “As ready as ever. I got a good night’s sleep and I’m well hydrated—and I’m prepared for what’s coming. I think that could have been the problem when we met wi
th Veronica. I was completely taken off guard. This won’t be easy, and it will probably weaken me, but I’ll be ready for it. And you’ll be here to hold my hand so we can be stronger together.”

  “Deal,” I said, unlocking the door and leading her into the foyer. “Why did you suggest we come in the middle of the day? I thought you said that the spirits were always more active at night.”

  “They are. There are fewer electrical disturbances at night, so they have more energy then. I thought it best that I first meet them when I’m not the one at a disadvantage.”

  “Good idea,” I said as I closed the door behind me. The house was an even bigger mess than the last time I’d been there because, I was sure, of Jayne’s reluctance to decide what she wanted to do with all the furniture. So it had to be moved and stacked in a different room as the renovations progressed. The only rooms Sophie had marked as out-of-bounds were the attic room and Button’s room because of their personal nature. But, as she’d mentioned, the roof repair wasn’t going to wait much longer and something would need to be done sooner rather than later. As long as she promised not to move any of it to my house for safekeeping until Jayne decided, I didn’t really care what happened to it.

  Ginette lifted the hair off the back of her neck, a sheen of perspiration already making her face dewy. “It’s cool outside, but my body can’t seem to regulate its temperature, so I’m either burning up or freezing all the time. I guess that comes with age.”

  “It’s cooler upstairs with the window unit—assuming they remembered to keep Button’s door open.”