On Folly Beach

by Karen White

  But then Lulu remembered what Maggie had told her about how you couldn’t help who you loved, and that Maggie loved Cat like a sister and Lulu knew that she couldn’t let Cat drown herself. She began to move forward quickly, her fingers so frozen that she fumbled with her flashlight, unable to turn it on. She stumbled and dropped it, hearing the sound of broken glass as the flashlight hit something hard.

  Squatting, she picked it up and held it under her coat and forced the power switch by using her two thumbs. Not even a flicker of light appeared and Lulu knew she’d probably broken the bulb and that it would be no good to her tonight.

  She stood, prepared to call out Cat’s name, but stopped when a light shone from an upstairs balcony at the first house. It was a round, small spot of light, and it was gone almost as soon as she knew she’d seen it. Lulu’s eyes searched the dark, wondering how Cat could have gotten inside so fast until she spotted Cat on the beach, unmoving as if she, too, had seen the light.

  Again, the spot of light appeared on the balcony, except this time Lulu was looking right at it and could see more than she had before. Somebody was standing outside holding a flashlight, flipping it on and off in an uneven pattern.

  Her eyes searched out Cat until she spotted her, moving into the dark surf toward the steps of the house. Lulu moved forward, creeping closer now that the ocean hitting the beach was making enough noise to hide behind. Her feet barely felt the cold water as she stood in the damp sand watching as Cat made her way up the wooden steps, stopping at the top for a moment before moving around the side of the house to where the light continued to appear.

  It stopped so quickly, it was like a blanket had been thrown over it. From where she stood, all Lulu could see was two people facing each other on the upper balcony. They stood still for a moment, then began to move like dancing shadows. It looked like they were talking but the crash of waves against the sand erased any words before they reached her. And then, suddenly, they moved together, creating one single shadow. They disappeared for a moment, pressed against the side of the house, hiding in the darkness under the roof’s overhang, before appearing again at the railing.

  Lulu squinted, trying to see what was happening. And then, unexpectedly, the shadow broke into two again and one of them moved toward the door and opened it. The two figures melted into one again before disappearing completely inside the house. Lulu imagined she could hear the bang of the door as it shut, leaving the beach and the night dark and still again.

  Blowing hot breath onto her hands to warm them in the way Jim had once shown her, Lulu turned around and headed home, hoping to be back in her bed before Maggie awoke. She’d already made up her mind not to tell her sister what she’d seen—not that Lulu even knew what she’d seen. But as she’d learned before, sometimes it was better to be quiet and listen, then wait until the time was right to reveal what you knew.

  She continued to walk along in the dark, listening for Cat’s footsteps behind her, while she thought about lights in the darkness, and all the secrets the night could hold.

  CHAPTER 13

  FOLLY BEACH, SOUTH CAROLINA

  August 2009

  Emmy emerged from the back office at Folly’s Finds with a stack of paid bills to be mailed. She hadn’t planned to hide in the office as long as she had, but she’d had to wait until the puffiness under her eyes had diminished at least a bit. The night before, she’d heard the footsteps again, but this time they seemed to be walking in circles, leaving her more bereft and full of questions than before. She’d spent the rest of the night lying awake and listening to the night sounds around her, waiting for the footsteps to return and point her in the right direction.

  She lifted her hair off the back of her neck and sighed. It was only nine o’clock in the morning, but she was already sweating despite the air-conditioning. It got hot in Indiana in the summer, too, but nothing like the waterlogged air of South Carolina’s Lowcountry. She stuck her fingers inside the neck of her short-sleeved cotton sweater and readjusted the belt on her skirt in the hope of letting air in to touch her skin.

  Emmy spotted Janell behind the counter at Playgrounds, serving various coffee confections to a dedicated group of locals whose names and faces were finally starting to sink in. A man in his sixties wearing a loose floral shirt, a Bermuda bathing suit in a conflicting pattern, dark socks up to his knees, and sandals waved a greeting to her. “Good morning, Miz Hamilton. It’s going to be another hot one.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right, Mr. Bivens. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this hot in my life.”

  His wife, wearing a strapless floral sundress and sneakers, approached with two cups. “You need to go get yourself something more suited to our climate, sweetheart. The saying here on Folly is that if you want to look like a local, dress like a tourist.” She laughed at her own joke, and Emmy laughed with her, recognizing the truth of her words.

  Turning to Janell, Emmy asked, “Has the mailman been here yet? I’ve got a stack of bills that I’d love to go out today.”

  Janell looked at her oddly. “Just put them on the counter where you usually do, and I’ll make sure they get mailed.”

  “I hate to make you do that. If you’ll just tell me where the mailbox is, I’ll be happy to do it myself.”

  Janell laughed, her long, beaded earrings clicking. “We don’t have mailboxes here on Folly, Emmy. Since the beginning of time, we’ve gone to the post office to pick up our mail. A few years back, they took a vote to see how many people wanted home delivery, and not enough people did. So we go to the post office to drop off and pick up our mail.”

  Emmy stared at her. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I just assumed I kept missing the mailman.” She scraped her hair away from her face. “The heat must be frying my brain or something. Look, tell me where the post office is, and I’ll take the mail this morning.”

  Janell smiled and slid a package across the counter toward Emmy. “Too late, I’ve already been. But you can go later if you like. It’s an easy walk—just over on East Indian and right behind the Catholic church. Just don’t go at noon—they close for an hour at lunch.”

  Emmy shook her head. “I promise to go from now on. Really. I can’t believe I didn’t figure that out. I’ve been trying to mail a postcard to my dad since I moved in. I was just too embarrassed to admit that I couldn’t find the mailbox either here or at the house.”

  “Actually, I think you’re going to have to fight me over that. It’s sort of where we get all the news, if you know what I mean. On a slow day, it can be the highlight of my day.”

  “I see. Well, then, maybe we’ll just have to take turns.”

  Janell laughed again, then greeted a customer standing behind Emmy. Excusing herself, Emmy picked up the package and took it behind the counter in the bookstore. She read the return address with some surprise, and wondered what her mother could be sending her.

  She sliced the tape to open the outer box and found a translucent white gift bag from Zoey’s Boutique in Fishers, Indiana. Stuck to the outside of the bag was a folded note written on Paige’s Pages stationery. Being careful to untape the note without tearing it, Emmy opened it up and read: I saw this and thought of you—a little something to help you beat the heat and perhaps feel a little more native.

  Since you’ve left, your father has become restless and has started talking about traveling. Not sure if that will last, but maybe we can fit in a visit to Folly Beach while we’re at it.

  The note wasn’t signed, but at the bottom there was a postscript: P.S. Don’t forget to drink plenty of water and wear sunscreen.

  Putting the note aside, Emmy lifted the bag out of the box. After cutting the curling ribbon that had been attached to the handles, she pushed aside a swath of tissue paper and found a pale yellow cotton dress with tiny spaghetti straps, and a matching hat with a wide brim and strings that tied under the chin. When she lifted the dress, she discovered what looked like a scrap of material tucked beneath it. Curious, she plac
ed the dress on the counter and lifted up the material, only to find that it was an improbably small black string bikini. Dropping it quickly back into the box, Emmy looked around to see if anybody else had seen it just as Abigail walked through the front door.

  “Good morning, sugar,” she called out to Emmy as she entered wearing the ubiquitous Folly uniform of a tank top and shorts with flip-flops. Turning her head toward Janell, she said, “I’m wearing red today—let me know if you have anything pretty to go with it.”

  Abigail stopped in front of the counter, scrutinizing Emmy’s face before lifting her hand to Emmy’s cheek, the way Paige had done when Emmy had been small and sick with a fever. “Ben been back visiting, has he?”

  Emmy widened her eyes with surprise as Abigail tucked a strand of hair behind Emmy’s ear. “He’ll be there as long as you think you need him.” She dropped her hand. “Maggie stayed with me for a while, too. I think it was because I was so worried about running the store without her, and not knowing what to do. But as soon as I began to feel more confident about my abilities, she stopped coming round.”

  “I don’t . . .” Emmy shook her head. “I don’t believe in ghosts. I’m just having bad dreams.”

  Abigail patted her hand. “And that’s okay. I don’t think I believe in ghosts, either. But whatever our minds create to help us get over a rough spot is a welcome thing.” Her smile faltered a bit. “When Heath was so sick, I felt Maggie close by again, and it helped me get through it. She’d been a second mother to him, so I think it natural that my thoughts would turn to her. It made me feel not so all alone. Not that my family and friends weren’t there for me. It’s just that nobody else was his mother, that’s all. It’s the hardest thing in the world for a mother to see her child suffering.”

  She studied Emmy closely, making Emmy wonder if Abigail knew about her dead brothers and what the loss had done to her own mother. Maybe being so far from home, Paige had no one to conjure; no one to talk with when the night was at its darkest.

  “I know Heath had radiation. If you don’t mind me asking, what was it for?”

  Matter-of-factly, Abigail said, “He had a brain tumor. By sheer accident, we found it very early. Heath was riding his bike—without a helmet, of course, because that’s what fool boys do—and fell off and hit his head. He said he felt fine, but I insisted that he go see his doctor, and the doctor ordered a CAT scan of his head. And that’s how they found it. No bigger than a peanut, but there it was.”

  “And it was malignant?”

  “That it was. They were able to get all of it, but he had to go through radiation to make sure. That was almost two years ago, and to see him now, it’s hard to believe. Except he gained a scar and lost a fiancée.”

  Emmy pictured her mother rolling her eyes at what Emmy liked to think was her intellectual inquisitiveness but what Paige had always referred to as just plain nosiness. Pushing away the image of her mother, Emmy asked, “So Heath broke off the engagement when he found out he was ill?”

  Abigail shook her head and pursed her lips. “No. Jolene can’t handle serious illness. Her mother died of breast cancer when she was twelve, which is why Lulu says she couldn’t handle Heath being so sick. But sometimes I can’t help but think that it was because Jolene couldn’t take the fact that her very perfect life had reached a bump in the road. Some people are like that, you know: they just fall apart at the first hurdle instead of looking for ways to go around it.”

  Come back to me. The note in the bottle was beginning to make a lot more sense to her now. “But he still wants her back?”

  Abigail shook her head. “Not anymore. Heath has never been the kind of person who can live with the broken pieces. Even if it’s all glued back together, he’d still see the cracks. I’m not saying that he’s still not just a little bit in love with her, since there has to be a reason why he hasn’t asked for the ring back. It belonged to Maggie, and should stay in the family.” She began absently straightening the racks on the counter, her gaze taking in the package from Emmy’s mother. “Jolene stayed in Atlanta until recently, but has been driving up here just about every other weekend for the last few months to see if Heath will change his mind. It’s exhausting for all of us.”

  “Because of her drinking?” Emmy bit her tongue, too late to pull the words back.

  “Among other things.” Abigail slid the package closer and lifted the bikini out of the tissue paper. With a lifted eyebrow, she said, “I was going to suggest you buy some new clothes that would keep you cooler, but I never expected this.”

  Embarrassed, Emmy explained, “My mother sent it—although I can’t imagine why. I don’t even own a bathing suit, and if I did, it wouldn’t look like that. But she sent this, too.” She pulled out the yellow sundress and held it up. It even appeared to be the right size.

  “They’re both nice, Emmy. Don’t say no to the bikini so quickly.” Abigail winked. “You’ve got the figure for it, although it’s hard to tell with all that fabric you’re usually wearing.” Coming behind the counter, Abigail placed her purse in a drawer. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

  Emmy smiled at the older woman, relieved that the subject of Abigail’s retirement hadn’t come up since Emmy had purchased the store. It was the proverbial pink elephant in the room, but neither one of them seemed in a rush to address it and the situation seemed to work out for both. Every other week, Emmy processed the payroll checks, and Abigail smiled and thanked her, and that was all. It was as if they each needed Folly’s Finds for different reasons, and they accepted the status quo for the time being.

  Emmy stepped around the counter. “Glad you asked. I’ve been separating our sales into categories, analyzing which areas produce the most volume and which ones don’t. This huge wall here is dedicated to travel and maps. I agree that it’s one of my favorite sections in the store, but it just doesn’t sell enough to dedicate the square footage that we’re giving to it. I would like to pare it down considerably, maybe to the bottom three shelves where we keep the classics, and use the space to introduce an out-of-print book section and maybe even a local interest or local author section, too. We could also use some of the space to increase our children’s area and put in a bigger reading corner for weekly story hours. What do you think?” She held her breath, surprised at how important Abigail’s nod of approval was to her.

  Abigail stepped closer to the shelves, her hands on her hips, as she studied the space, her eyes narrowed as if picturing Emmy’s changes in her head. After a long moment, she turned back to Emmy.

  “I completely agree. I think the reason why I’ve kept this section so big for so long is because of Maggie. It was her favorite, and I suppose I just kept it because of that. But I was thinking, too. . . .” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped a finger against her chin. “I’ve got a box of Maggie’s travel books and her favorites somewhere. She wanted to keep them with her when we were packing up before Hugo, and only agreed to let Lulu take them at the last minute, which is why they were separate from the other books. And I’d totally forgotten about them until now.” She was silent for a moment as she contemplated the shelves. “But if I could locate them, we could incorporate them into the new out-of-print section. It could be quite a collection because they’re so old.”

  Emmy’s eyes brightened. “And I’ve been thinking about starting a Web site, moving the rare-books portion of the business completely online—maybe even highlighting the old travel books. I’m sure there are collectors who browse the Web looking for that exact thing.” She took a breath. “But first we’ve got to get rid of that cash register and move into the twenty-first century with a computerized system.”

  The creases around Abigail’s eyes deepened. “Well, then, looks like we’ve got some work to do. And if it’s all right with you, I’d like to ask Lulu if she wouldn’t mind helping with the design of the children’s corner. She’s got a really good eye for that kind of thing.”

  “Hrumph.”

&
nbsp; Both women turned toward the back door, where Lulu had apparently been standing for some time. Abigail placed her hand over her heart. “You scared me, Lulu. I didn’t hear you come in.” She turned to Emmy. “Lulu once told me that when she was a young girl, she liked to pretend that she was Nancy Drew, girl detective, and would practice sneaking around undetected.”

  Lulu pretended not to hear and stepped forward, her hair in braids and wearing the same shorts and shirt Emmy had seen her wearing the first time they’d met. “Maggie wouldn’t want you to sell her favorite books.”

  Abigail tilted her head to the side. “You know, I thought just the opposite. She loved sharing those books when she was alive, loved talking about different places with other people. Don’t you think that making the books available to other readers would be a way of honoring her?”

  Emmy moved to stand next to Abigail. “And we wouldn’t have to make them all available for purchase. I’d be more than happy to let you go through them and pick out which ones you’d like to keep. But I agree with Abigail: sharing Maggie’s books would be the best way to honor her memory.”

  Lulu’s only answer was a snort. Ignoring Abigail and Emmy, she walked past them to the spot where Emmy had wanted to put the children’s corner. “A story hour would be nice. Maggie had one during the war to keep the children’s minds off of their daddies, who were off fighting. Watching me didn’t leave a lot of time for her to contribute to the war effort, so she did what she could. Gave them books, too, which she couldn’t really afford to do, but that was her way. Still, I don’t think you should go selling her books.”

  Abigail said, “This whole argument might be moot if I can’t find that box of books. You had them last, Lulu, but I don’t remember evacuating with them. Do you have any idea what happened to her box of favorites?”