The Time Between

by Karen White

  She gave me a haughty glance as her answer, and I took hold of her arm again. We made our way to the old section of the cemetery behind the church, where a large stone mausoleum sat nestled between an iron fence and thick green foliage.

  The name J. B. LEGARE was set in bold-lettered relief above the doorless opening. I knew the missing door was part of an island legend, a legend about how one of the crypt’s internees had been mistakenly buried alive and found on the floor inside the door years later when the crypt was reopened for another burial. Afterward, the door wouldn’t stay closed, so it had simply been removed. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t prowled the cemetery at night with Lucy and Eve to see if I could hear ghostly moans. But I had no intention of mentioning any of that to an impressionable Gigi.

  “Gigi?” I called again.

  Her head popped out of the opening. “There’s a mommy and a daddy and a little boy in here, and the little boy was only six years old when he died. His parents must have been very sad.”

  She said this matter-of-factly, as if her expression of grief had nothing to do with her at all.

  I looked at the dates on the three headstones that were part of the far wall of the crypt. “His mother died when he was three, and then his father died two years after he did. How very tragic.”

  “Daddy says that happened a lot a long time ago when they didn’t have medicines or shots or clean hands. Or chemotherapy,” she added cheerfully, the long word slipping so easily from her young mouth.

  “They say the father died of a broken heart,” Helena said.

  “Do they have medicine for that now?” Gigi asked, her upturned eyes reflecting the dappled light.

  “No,” answered Helena. “I do not think they will ever find a cure. Perhaps time. But I have always thought that those who did not have long to grieve were the fortunate ones.”

  I thought of the young soldier with the blond hair and the enigmatic smile. “Have you ever been in love?”

  Her gaze remained focused on the stone pediment. “Yes. Once. A very long time ago.”

  “Did you get married?” Gigi asked with the enthusiasm of one who sees weddings only as an occasion to wear a long, beautiful white gown.

  “No. We planned to marry after the war.”

  I held her arm tighter, feeling her wilt like a tulip in the heat.

  “And you, Eleanor. Have you ever truly been in love?”

  I thought of Glen and all the feelings I had ever had for him, but I was no longer sure of their label. “I don’t know,” I said, looking away.

  “Things do not always work out as we have planned, do they? Sometimes the hardest thing is not to just survive the grief, but to step around it and move on. It helps if your suitcases are not so full.” She took a deep breath. “I am ready for my ice cream now.”

  She pulled away from me and began her slow progress back to the car. I stayed where I was, watching her and the small figure of Gigi staying close, wondering if Helena had been talking about herself or about me.

  I followed them out of the cemetery as the setting sun sent shadow arms between the stones, embracing those who no longer had the choice to move on.

  CHAPTER 23

  Eleanor

  I sat at my desk, occasionally glancing up to see if Finn was off the phone or away from his computer, or to see any movement away from either that would indicate that he wasn’t actually working and I could interrupt. The tarnished silver box that Gigi and I had found in the sweetgrass basket nearly three weeks before sat in the bottom of my purse wrapped in a dishcloth. The fact that it was hidden from view did nothing to make me forget that it was there.

  Because there’d been no music found in the basket, Gigi had returned it to where she’d found it, just as we’d agreed. But the image of the soldier’s face haunted me, and I could not forget him. Nor could I forget my conversation with Helena in the cemetery about love and grief, and I remembered something she’d said to me when we’d first met. Have you ever known grieving that ends only when your own heart stops beating?

  I had thought at the time that she was speaking only about Bernadett, but now I wasn’t so sure. I had felt the frailness of her bones under my fingers and seen the paleness of her skin as we’d walked in the cemetery, and I knew that whatever the items in the basket might mean, she was not yet strong enough to see them.

  But, true to form, I couldn’t let it go. For weeks I had tossed and turned at night, seeing the boy’s face and recalling the Bible verse verbatim. In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are no more.

  I’d wake up, drenched in sweat, imagining the old Gullah woman sitting in the dark watching me, watching and waiting for me to understand something that was as evasive as capturing moonlight in my hand.

  Finally, Finn stood and walked over to his coffeemaker, but just as I started to stand, his secretary, Kay, also stood, with a stack of papers, and entered his office after a brief knock. She sent me a smug look before closing the door behind her.

  The phone on my desk rang and I picked it up.

  “It’s me, Lucy. Do you have plans for lunch?”

  “No, but I have work—”

  “No excuses, Eleanor. You’ve avoided me long enough. We’re going to Fast and French. I’ll meet you out front at noon.”

  I took a deep breath, knowing she would come in and drag me out if I stood her up. “Sure. See you then.”

  “And you might want a little heads-up. The ex–Mrs. Beaufain just stormed the building. She should be hitting your desk at about t minus five seconds. She doesn’t look happy. Good luck.”

  The phone went dead. I looked up at the commotion in the reception area as Ellen Ward, the receptionist, ran into the back-office area, trying to catch up to a fast-moving Harper Beaufain Gibbes dressed in head-to-toe navy blue Chanel. If I thought I could get away with it without being noticed, I would have taken a photo with my iPhone to show Eve for costume ideas.

  But then I saw a dejected-looking Gigi trailing behind her mother, her face streaked with tears. Thinking only of the little girl, I walked quickly over to her and scooped her up in my arms. I had never held her, and although I knew she was small for her age, I was still surprised by how light she felt in my arms. She nestled her face into my neck, where I could feel each shuddering breath.

  “Put her down.” I recognized the voice from the only other time I’d spoken with Gigi’s mother. It was one I wouldn’t forget.

  “No,” I said without thinking. All I knew was that Gigi was now clinging to me like a baby monkey, her fingers clutching my shoulders so tightly that I knew she’d leave marks.

  “How dare you? I am her mother and I am telling you to put her down.”

  “Harper. Always a pleasure. I don’t believe you’re the one in charge here.”

  She whipped around to stare up into the very angry eyes of her ex-husband. “She is my child,” Harper said, her skin darkening but making her no less attractive.

  “Actually,” Finn said with a wry smile, “from what I recall of high school biology, she’s my child, too.”

  It was the first time I’d seen them together, and even I had to admit that they must have once made a very beautiful couple. Just like the house in which they’d lived together, where everything seemed almost too perfect.

  Finn continued, his darkening eyes belying his calm voice. “And last time I checked, I had full custody, which means I’m in charge. Why are you here, and why is Gigi upset?” He touched Gigi’s head, as if to let her know he was near, but she remained clinging to me.

  I wondered if Finn had called her Gigi in front of her mother on purpose.

  With her lips clenched together, Harper yanked a wrinkled piece of paper from her handbag and threw it at Finn. “Because of this.”

&
nbsp; Finn unraveled the paper and stared at it with a blank expression for a few moments. “What is it?”

  “It’s a drawing Genevieve made for me. It’s disgusting.”

  Finn lowered the piece of paper. “There is nothing disgusting about this. And please watch what you say in front of our daughter.”

  “She needs to hear it. She needs to learn what’s appropriate and what’s not, and apparently with the ragtag crew you’ve set up to watch her this summer, she’s being exposed to unsavory things.”

  Harper didn’t look at me, but I knew to whom she was referring.

  Finn’s voice deepened into something closely resembling a growl. “I’m not going to repeat myself. Watch what you say in front of Gigi, or I will throw you over my shoulder and physically remove you from the premises.”

  I almost laughed out loud at the mental image, but the weeping child in my arms held me back.

  Harper stiffened. “You can at least tell me what that’s all about,” she said, indicating the drawing.

  “I have no idea, except that it shows our daughter has a drawing talent we hadn’t known about and that she has a very clever imagination.”

  Harper narrowed her eyes. “You must be joking. It’s a picture of a cemetery. A cemetery. How would she even know about such a place?”

  My throat seemed to shrink. “May I see it, please?”

  I could tell that Harper was about to object, but Finn ignored her and held it up for me to see. Finn was right about Gigi’s drawing talent. Although it was not true art in any sense of the word, she had an amazing eye for detail and color, and the subjects in her colored-pencil drawing were easily recognizable. But it was the subjects that I focused on simply because they were so odd.

  The mausoleum we’d visited while at the Presbyterian cemetery was cleanly drawn, complete with the green forest behind it and the large, bold letters J. B. LEGARE. The walls of the structure weren’t colored in a solid color like most children would have done, but in varying shades of brown.

  It wasn’t even the figure of the Gullah woman from the basket stand sitting in the middle of the doorway that made my heart shudder. She wore the same blue-and-white-checkered dress she’d been wearing when we stopped by her stand and bought the Dreams of Rivers basket. The woman’s voluminous chest was accurately portrayed to the point where the buttons were pulling apart in the middle, where dark skin showed through the breaks in the fabric. She was holding a pretty good representation of a newly started basket, the fronds sticking out from the round bottom like the sun’s rays.

  It was the words written in a childish hand in blue letters across the sky that caught my attention as I read them over and over. All good-bye ain’t gone.

  My eyes met Finn’s. Regardless of what he interpreted the drawing to be and my own interpretation of it, we were of like mind. Gigi had drawn this because she was ten years old and was borrowing from things she’d seen and heard in her short life. Unfortunately, she’d chosen to share it with her mother.

  “Do you see what I mean?” Harper spit out. “Look at her . . .” She struggled to find a word other than “breasts.” “Her chest. It’s grotesque. And who taught Genevieve to speak in ungrammatical English?” Her voice rose to an even higher pitch. “And who is that woman? Certainly nobody I’ve introduced her to.”

  Something pulsed in Finn’s jaw. He reached for Gigi and she slid into his arms. Looking at his ex-wife, he said, “I need you to leave now, before I say something we’ll both regret. Gigi can stay with me.”

  Harper looked surprised, as if she’d been expecting Finn to side with her about the appropriateness of the drawing. “You’re not going to punish her?”

  I understood now why Finn had asked to hold the child. Otherwise, I think he might have been forced to resort to the physical removal he had threatened earlier.

  “Of course not. It’s a beautiful, artistic drawing, made by my daughter. I think I might even frame it and put it on my desk to look at every day. That’s how much I love it. And if you can’t see any of that, then you need to resign your position on the board of the Gibbes Museum of Art.”

  I thought Harper might actually stamp her foot. “This is my child, and I will not have her raised like a . . . a . . . a street child.”

  It was so absurd that if it had come from anybody else, I would have laughed.

  Finn deserved an award for how calm he remained. But then I was reminded that this was his office, and all these people worked for him. He was in control, as always, and I wondered if he ever got tired of it.

  With precise and deliberate words, he said, “Despite who is raising her, Gigi has become a loving, smart, charming, and polite little person, and if you’d ever take the time to get to know her instead of projecting who you’d like her to be, you’d see that.”

  Harper’s chin shook, but ever cognizant of how things looked, she kept her voice low. “I am her mother. I know who my child is, and it is my job to make sure she is raised properly.”

  Finn’s eyes turned frosty. “It’s a little late to remember you’re her mother.”

  Harper drew back as if struck, and that’s when it occurred to me and apparently Finn that Gigi was listening to every word. Finn set Gigi down next to me and, after a brief pat to her head, said to Harper, “Let’s continue this in private, please.”

  He began stalking toward his office, anticipating that Harper would follow, which, after a brief hesitation, she did. As soon as the door closed behind them, Gigi sighed, then hiccupped. I sat down at my desk and pulled her into my lap.

  “I think your picture is lovely. I’d love for you to make one for me. But only if you want to.”

  She gave me a wobbly smile, and it hurt to know that anybody would ever wound this child with words. “What does ‘grotesque’ mean?”

  “It means your mother doesn’t recognize true art or beauty when she sees it.” I stopped, forcing myself to remember that I was talking about Gigi’s mother. I tucked a piece of fine white-blond hair behind her delicate ear. “Sometimes when people are unhappy but don’t know why, it makes them angry, and sometimes they turn that anger on innocent people. You just have to remember that their hurtful words aren’t about you at all.”

  Gigi rested her head on my shoulder. “Why is Mommy unhappy?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. Unfortunately, it makes it hard for her to appreciate her perfect, sweet, and talented daughter.”

  She lifted her head, a deep furrow between her brows. “When will she be ready to see me like that?” Her expression lacked any guile, her gray eyes wide and innocent.

  I recalled the conversation on the way to the library that I’d had with my own mother, when she’d told me that it was my independence that had made her focus on Eve during our growing-up years, and not any lack on my part. I was still trying to digest it, not to forgive or explain it, but simply to excise the part of me that believed I would never be good enough.

  “I don’t know, sweetie. Time is a funny thing. It can take some people a whole lifetime before they realize they’ve been playing tug-of-war all by themselves.”

  She stared blankly at me.

  “I’m trying to say that it takes some people a very long time to realize something they thought was true isn’t true anymore. And maybe never was.” I stopped, aware that I was no longer thinking about Harper.

  Taking a deep breath, I asked, “The words at the top of the picture—where have you heard them before?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the basket lady said it.”

  Gooseflesh erupted on my arms as I realized that I would have remembered it if I’d heard it again. “Maybe,” I said, eager to stop this conversation so I wouldn’t have to think of other explanations.

  We both looked up to see Kay standing by the desk and holding out a wrapped candy bar. “I figure I don’t really need thi
s but thought Gigi might like it.”

  The little girl’s eyes lit up and I gave Kay a grateful smile. Whatever misgivings or suspicions she might harbor toward me, I knew that we were in accord concerning this child.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Tetley,” Gigi said, already opening the wrapper.

  At that moment, Finn’s office door was thrown open and Harper stormed through it, heading toward my desk. Her frown softened as she regarded her daughter, who had already managed to smear chocolate over her mouth.

  “Your father wants to keep you for the rest of the day and possibly tonight, too. Is that all right?” She actually looked as if she wanted Gigi to say no.

  Gigi just nodded.

  Harper forced a smile. “All right. Just please try and remember your manners.” Bending down, she gave Gigi a kiss on the top of her head.

  She turned cold eyes to me. “Finn assures me that you are more than capable of taking care of Genevieve, and although I distrust many of his instincts in other areas, on matters pertaining to our daughter I do not.” She moved her gaze to Gigi, who had stopped eating and was solemnly staring up at her mother. “Just . . .” She stopped. “Please be extra careful with her.”

  With a brief touch to her daughter’s head, she turned on her Louboutin heels and walked quickly out of the office. I stared after her, realizing something about Harper Beaufain Gibbes that she probably didn’t even know about herself. She was afraid. Afraid of loving her child too much. As if she kept her at arm’s length so the thought of losing her wouldn’t hurt so much. I almost felt sorry for her.

  “Eleanor?”

  Finn stood by my desk where Kay had been. “Can I see you in my office, please? Kay can keep an eye on Gigi.”

  Kay was already walking toward us, her hand outstretched. “I’ll take her to the kitchen to see if we can find some milk to wash down that candy bar.”