On Folly Beach

by Karen White

  Emmy started to turn back inside, but stopped suddenly, sloshing coffee on her bathrobe. Quickly changing direction, she passed the dining table and placed her cup on top of it, then headed for the bedroom, where she’d brought all of the inscribed books from the very first box she’d opened from Paige’s Pages that still hadn’t made it to the shelves of Folly’s Finds. They were in a small box by the door, and she picked it up and dumped the books onto the bed, sorting through them until she found A Farewell to Arms.

  She quickly flipped to the back cover and found the sketch of the bottle tree—the same picture that had convinced her to leave Indiana and move to Folly Beach. Leaning over, she looked closely at the ink sketch, noticing something she hadn’t seen before. Lodged inside one of the bottles on a lower branch was what appeared to be a rolled-up piece of paper. She sat up and chewed on her lip, staring at the picture. Finally, Emmy slid the book from her lap and reached for the phone, eager to tell Heath about her discovery and what she thought it meant.

  As her hand touched the receiver, the telephone rang, startling her.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Emmy—it’s Heath. I hope I’m not waking you.”

  She glanced at her bedside clock and saw that it was nearly nine thirty. “You’re just trying to make me feel guilty because I’m not walking on the beach, aren’t you?”

  “Not at all. I figured you’d be too sore to go back. Give it another day.” She was about to contradict him when he spoke again. “How soon do you think you can get to the store?”

  Emmy sat back on the bed. “The store? You mean Folly’s Finds?” She glanced at the clock again. “About half an hour. Why? Is there something wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve been here working on this attic access since about six o’clock this morning so all the messy parts would be done before you opened on Monday. Everything’s on schedule—but I just found something that I think you’ll want to see.”

  “Can’t you just tell me over the phone?”

  She heard the smile in his voice. “That wouldn’t be a surprise, then, would it?”

  “Fine. Because I have something to show you, too.” She waited to hear him ask her what it was.

  She could hear another smile in his voice as if he knew what she was waiting for. “Great. You can show me when you get here.”

  They said good-bye; then Emmy showered, dressed, and threw the book with the drawing into her purse. As she opened the front door, she saw a familiar car in her driveway, parked behind her own car so that she couldn’t leave. After locking the front door firmly behind her, she climbed down the stairs looking for Jolene.

  The car was empty, so after checking the street and in front of the house, Emmy walked to the back, wondering if she should have called Heath first. She felt guilty at the thought since every encounter she’d had with Jolene after the incident in the restaurant, although always on the phone, had been nothing but professional, and the work she’d submitted to Emmy so far was exceptional. But Emmy still had the image of Jolene on her couch, wearing an engagement ring for a wedding that wasn’t to be, and she couldn’t help but feel wary.

  Emmy found Jolene on the finished part of the dock, looking up at the empty Osprey nest. Jolene turned as she heard Emmy approach. “Heath didn’t tell me if the ospreys returned this year. I’m supposing they did but it would have been nice to see.”

  Emmy came to a stop at the end of the dock near the bottle tree. She wondered if Jolene would have known to check inside the bottles for the note Heath had left her, feeling relieved that it wasn’t there anymore. “I don’t know. I didn’t even notice the nest until after they would have left.”

  Jolene turned her head back toward the marsh, her hands tucked into the pocket of a long, brocade coat.

  “Did you need to talk to me about something? I love the design of Lulu’s pages that you sent me this week. I think they’re good to go without any changes. I’d actually planned to e-mail you today.”

  Jolene reached her hand up to push away hair that had blown into her eyes, the sapphire ring glinting in the sun. Emmy stared at it as a heaviness settled on her like a coat, its pockets filled with lost dreams and good-byes. Her thumbnail flicked the gold band around her own finger, feeling the weight of it on her skin.

  Jolene nodded absently. “Good. I thought you’d like it. But I’m actually here today to see Lizzie and her babies. I’ve got a hotel room in Charleston, so I won’t intrude on Abigail and John.” She turned her head and sent Emmy a fragile smile. “They’re kind to me, but I always get the feeling that they’re waiting for me to leave.”

  Emmy glanced back at her car, confirming that she couldn’t maneuver around Jolene’s Audi without hitting the palm tree that sat by the driveway. “You’re welcome to stay here for a while longer, but I’m actually on my way to Folly’s Finds, and I can’t move my car.”

  Jolene made no indication that she’d heard. Instead she turned her attention to the pile of lumber near the dock. “This is so typical of Heath. He’s so exacting in his professional work, always finishing projects on time even if it kills him. But for his own projects, he can’t seem to finish. It’s almost as if he’s afraid that when they’re complete, he’ll find himself having to deal with the real issues in his life.” She turned around and began walking toward Emmy, stopping next to the bottle tree, and examining a squat cobalt jar suspended vertically like a blue angel. “Like our engagement. He’s told me that we’re not getting married, but neither one of us can quite believe it’s true yet.” She held her hand up and wriggled her ring finger.

  Not knowing what to say, Emmy indicated the cars in the drive. “I’ve got to move my car and you’re blocking me. Would you mind . . . ?” She stopped, catching the unmistakable scent of alcohol on Jolene’s breath as the other woman studied the tree.

  Jolene reached up and touched one of the bottles, the sun shining directly on her face and illuminating her bloodshot eyes and her lipstick, which appeared to have been applied with a shaking hand. “I guess I’d better be talking to Lulu about getting my own tree since it seems I need one.”

  Emmy laid her hand on Jolene’s arm. “Look, I’m heading over to the store right now and Lulu’s bound to be there. Why don’t you come with me? I’ll drive.” She began leading Jolene back to the cars. “Just move your car out into the street so I can leave the driveway, and I’ll wait while you take my spot.”

  Jolene nodded as she pulled her keys from her pocket. As she slid behind the wheel of her Audi, she looked up at Emmy. “How long are you going to wear your wedding ring?”

  Emmy pulled back. “I don’t know.”

  Jolene placed her hands on her steering wheel and stared straight in front of her. “I was hoping you’d know so you could tell me how long a person has to wait until she knows for sure that there’s no reason to keep on waiting.”

  The thought of Maggie waiting through a hurricane flashed through Emmy’s head, but before she could say anything else, Jolene had closed her car door and started the engine. Then she backed out into the street and instead of waiting drove away, leaving Emmy standing in the driveway, wondering how long was long enough.

  ON THE WAY TO FOLLY’S FINDS, Emmy called Heath’s cell phone, and when no one answered, she called Abigail and told her about Jolene. Abigail said she knew where to find her and would commandeer the car keys if necessary.

  When she opened the door to the store, she was greeted by the ringing bell and the sight of her store wrapped in plastic sheets and covered with a coating of drywall dust. An aluminum ladder rose from the middle of the floor to a new rectangular hole in the ceiling. The only color in the room besides Janell’s hand-painted sign for Folly’s Playgrounds was Lulu’s wall mural for the new children’s corner. She’d painted the ceiling a midnight blue, then covered it with iridescent golden stars that mimicked the night sky. The walls above and between the low shelves—Lulu’s idea to make them more kid-friendly—were filled with what appear
ed to be books falling from the sky. The titles and authors of popular and classic children’s books were painted on the spines and splayed covers, and flitting around the books and shelves like ribbon were passages from some of the books. Emmy’s favorite was from Nancy Drew: Nancy, look out!, which, according to Lulu, appeared in every single book in the series.

  Emmy had taken photographs of the space and sent them to Jolene, and Jolene had used the colors and patterns as the wallpaper for Lulu’s bottle-tree pages. Lulu hadn’t seen them yet, but Emmy was anticipating the big unveiling. Emmy had yet to see Lulu smile in direct response to something she had said or done, and Emmy thought that maybe her waiting was about to pay off.

  “Hello? Anybody here?”

  Janell appeared from behind the counter of Folly’s Playgrounds, where she’d been restocking cups and napkins, and waved before coming around and joining Emmy in the war zone holding two steaming mugs. Handing Emmy a cup of coffee, she asked, “So, do you like it?”

  Emmy looked around at her nearly unrecognizable store. “I’m going to withhold judgment, if that’s all right. I’m having a two-for-one sale for my ‘more on Mondays’ promotion tomorrow, so I’m hoping we’ll be ready in time.”

  “Believe it or not, Heath said the messy part down here is done, and he’ll have this cleared by this afternoon so it can be business as usual tomorrow. He’s hired a cleaning crew to come suck up all the dust as soon as he’s done.”

  “Good to know.” Emmy took a sip of her coffee and looked around. “So, where is everybody?”

  A thump from the ceiling answered part of the question. Janell tilted her head back and stepped away as if anticipating something falling through. Her green-and-blue beaded earrings jangled as she moved her head, reminding Emmy of the ocean. “Lulu was here earlier, but she seems to have disappeared. I just went outside to ask her about the next orders so I could get started on the metal work, but she wasn’t there. Even checked in the shed but no luck. She doesn’t believe in cell phones, so I couldn’t call her.” She took a sip out of her mug. “The last I saw her was about an hour ago, right after Heath showed her what he found.”

  “Do you know what it is?”

  Janell nodded. “He knew you’d ask me, so he made me promise not to tell. But to be honest, I don’t understand what’s so exciting about it. He said you’d understand.”

  A voice called down from the ceiling hole. “Emmy? Is that you?”

  Emmy moved to stand next to the ladder. “I’m here. Can I come up now?”

  “Sure. Just hold on tight to the ladder, and I’ll help you up when you get to the top.”

  Handing her mug to Janell, Emmy stepped onto the first rung and began to climb. When she’d reached about the fourth rung from the top, Heath reached down with both hands and held her arms while she climbed the rest of the way, thankful for his support as she stepped off the ladder and onto the dusty wood floor of the attic.

  The space was lit by a half-moon window on the street side of the store, the sun picking up dust motes and plaster dust in its wedge of light. Lighter-colored studs stood out against darker wood, a testament to the hurricane repairs made after Hugo. At first glance it appeared that the attic was empty, until her eyes adjusted to the dimness, and she saw a box on the opposite end from the window identical to the box shipped to her mother in Indiana.

  She approached the box, the back of her neck tingling. “Is this your surprise?”

  “I’m thinking this is the missing box of books. I haven’t gone through them yet, but I can’t imagine what else they could be.”

  “It’s them.” Kneeling in front of the box, Emmy peered inside and lifted out the first book she saw: a travel guide to Paris from nineteen forty. Feeling out of breath, she looked up at Heath. “It’s them,” she said again.

  Because of the dust and dirt on the floor, she had to resist the impulse to dump out the contents of the box. Instead, she stuck her hand in again and grabbed the first book she touched. Holding it up to the light, she read the title aloud: “Around the World in 80 Days.”

  Eagerly she flipped randomly through the pages, stopping when she spotted the bold black ink of the male writer in the upper-right-hand corner of a page in the middle of the book.

  It will be cold, so bring something warm. Don’t let her see you leave or we will never be free. I will wait for you, just as you once promised to wait for me.

  Feeling breathless, Emmy held the book up for Heath to read. “What do you think?”

  “Sounds like two overly dramatic teenagers to me.”

  Emmy pulled the book back and snapped it closed. “What did Lulu say when you showed her the box? Did she recognize it?”

  Heath looked uncomfortable. “She didn’t say anything, actually. She just glanced at the box, then went back down the ladder.”

  Their eyes met. “I have something to show you, too, that might be connected.” Emmy slid her purse off of her shoulder, then pulled out the copy of A Farewell to Arms with the bottle-tree sketch, and opened it up to the inside back cover.

  She stood, then turned it around to show the drawing of the bottle tree to Heath. “Look really closely at the bottle on the lowest branch. What do you see?”

  He squinted at the drawing, his eyes widening when he spotted the note in the bottle.

  “What do you think this means?” Emmy asked.

  “I have no idea.” He raised an eyebrow. “But I bet the librarian does.”

  Emmy smiled back even though he’d called her a librarian. “Remember me telling you that of all the messages I’d read, not once was there any specific time or place mentioned? I guessed that the information would have been placed elsewhere, so if anybody stumbled upon one of the notes, the whole gig wouldn’t be up.”

  “You mean, like this was some sort of secret affair.”

  She bit her lower lip. “Yes.”

  “And you think the notes were stuck in a bottle tree.”

  “Yes, I do.” She looked steadily at him, waiting to see if he’d arrive at the same conclusion she had. When he didn’t say anything further, she said, “Who do we know who’s made a lifelong habit of tucking notes in bottles?”

  Heath sobered. “Aunt Lulu. But she can’t know anything about the messages. She would have said something already.”

  Emmy gave him a dubious look, not feeling so convinced. “I know the handwriting isn’t hers—I’ve seen it enough on her orders, unless she’s deliberately changing it.” She looked up at Heath again, remembering something Lulu had said about Cat’s first husband, Jim. We all had a thing for Jim. “Do you think Lulu and Jim . . . ?” She shook her head. “Never mind. Jim was killed in nineteen forty-one when Lulu was eight. And these notes were definitely not written by a nine-year-old.”

  Standing, Heath brushed his hands against his jeans. “They’re probably just notes between my grandparents. Maybe they liked a bit of drama. By the way, my dad found a sample of my grandfather’s handwriting. You can look at it to compare when you come to the party.”

  Emmy stood, too, and slipped the book back into her purse. “I’d like the chance to examine all of these. Could you help me bring them down the ladder and put them in my truck?”

  “Sure.” He didn’t move right away. “Although I’m thinking you’re taking all of this a little too seriously.” Absently, he rubbed the scar on the side of his head the way Emmy imagined a pilgrim would rub a relic. “Maybe you’d be better off focusing on your business right now. Jolene told me that your ideas for Internet expansion are amazing. It would seem to me that somebody looking to move forward would leave all this stuff in the past, where it belongs.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with what I’m doing. There’s a story here, and I don’t know the ending. I can’t let it all go just like that.” She eyed him curiously. “Are your objections because all of this most likely involves your grandmother?”

  “Well, how would you feel if somebody found out something in your family’s history that
wasn’t exactly what you’d been led to believe?”

  She paused. “Look. I understand. And I promise you that if I find anything, I’ll tell you first. All right?”

  “But then it would be too late—I’d know the truth even if nobody else does.”

  She frowned at him, thinking, and realized there was something more to his objection. “Maybe your resistance is because you like things to be perpetually waiting to be finished.” Bending over to lift the box, she added, “You can still die even if you have unfinished business. Believe me, I know.”

  When she straightened, he took the box from her, and when he spoke, his voice lacked the geniality she’d begun to associate with him. “Stand at the top of the opening and hand me the box when I get halfway down the ladder.”

  She moved into position and took the box again, then did what he asked. When she reached the bottom of the ladder, Heath had already made it to the back of her truck. In silence, she opened up the back and waited for him to slide the box inside. He closed the door carefully, then turned to her.

  “E-mail me your ideas of what you need in terms of storage and space in the attic, and I’ll do some measurements and draw up plans. I have to go to Atlanta for work for a couple of weeks, but I can e-mail you my ideas for you to look at. I’ll be back for the party and we can go over things then.”

  Emmy folded her arms across her chest. “I guess you don’t want to ask Aunt Lulu about the sketch, do you?”

  Heath looked past her head. “No, not really. I don’t think this digging is good for anybody. Finding the truth isn’t going to make you forget your troubles for more than a few minutes at a time, much less bring your husband back.”

  “Fine,” she said, digging her car keys from her purse. “I guess I’ll just ask her myself.”