On Folly Beach

by Karen White

  Janell stood outside emptying a coffeepot full of water on the camellia bush. She straightened when she saw Lulu.

  “Haven’t see you for a while, Lulu. Emmy said you’ve got lots of orders waiting. I was hoping we could talk so I know how much metal—”

  Lulu kept walking, putting a lot of effort into standing up straight. “Not right now, Janell. Maybe this afternoon.” She waved her hand and headed to the front yard.

  She almost shouted with relief when she spotted Abigail’s car parked at the curb, the driver’s side open and the engine running as if she’d just dashed into the store for a quick moment. With a quick glance around, Lulu slid into the driver’s seat, plopping the spade on the seat next to her and belatedly noting the cake from the Cake Stand done in the shape of matching pink and blue booties, on the floor of the car.

  Pressing her hand against her chest, she leaned forward and shut the door, then put the car into drive. The pain was insistent now, so much so that she could barely find the strength to press the gas pedal. It was early October, too late to be worried about tourists crossing the street in front of her.

  When she made it to the empty lot, she didn’t have the time or energy to try to park parallel to the curb, so she drove up on the property with her front tires sinking into the sandy soil.

  She rested her head on the steering wheel with the air-conditioning blasting as sweat prickled her face. Her right arm felt numb, and she had the alarming thought that she’d have to dig with her left hand.

  Using her whole body to push open the door, she fell out of the car, barely catching herself on the side window. She stared across the empty lot, calculating how far it was to the cross at the back of the property. Taking a deep breath, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other until she’d reached the cross. Then, her eyes blurry with pain, she made the twenty paces to the right and stopped.

  She knew if she got down, she might not be able to get up again, but she had to try. Carefully, she went down on one knee, then the other, wincing from the pain in her chest and knees. Then, awkwardly gripping the spade in her left hand, she tried to dig. But now her left hand wasn’t cooperating either, and she succeeded only in scraping away the smallest amount of dirt and dead grass.

  Her eyes dimmed, and she looked up, expecting to see a cloud covering the sun. Instead, the blue sky illuminated the world around her, the sun shooting halos of light around her peripheral vision. And then, inexplicably, she saw Maggie. She was walking toward her from the direction of the ocean, and she was shaking her head.

  Lulu closed her eyes tight, knowing that her punishment was near. She waited for what seemed like a long time, then opened her eyes again, wanting to see Maggie’s face just one more time. The pain vibrated through her body now, radiating down her arms and legs. But none of it mattered; she was going to see Maggie again.

  But when she opened her eyes, all she saw was darkness.

  CHAPTER 23

  FOLLY BEACH, SOUTH CAROLINA

  January 1943

  As Maggie finished rearranging the shelves of her lending library one more time, she listened with only half an ear to her daytime drama, Against the Storm, on the radio she’d brought from the house. She’d been spending so much time at Folly’s Finds since Cat’s marriage that she’d lost track of some of the story lines. It was Lulu who’d suggested she bring in the radio, and it was only then that Maggie realized how much time Lulu was spending in the store instead of at the house, too. It was almost as if Lulu thought Maggie would disappear if Lulu let her sister out of her sight for a moment. Maggie supposed it was natural for a young girl who’d lost both parents at an early age to fear separation. But a part of Maggie—the part aware of Lulu’s secretive nature and dark, private thoughts—wondered if Lulu’s fear stemmed from something else entirely.

  Maggie stood back, examining the shelves. Her favorite books—the ones Peter had given her and most of her travel books—were already moved to the very top. But now they were also pushed back to the wall so that the spines weren’t visible to anyone standing below. She’d even gone as far as to place dictionaries and reference materials—books she was sure no one would ever willingly borrow—haphazardly in front.

  This had been Peter’s idea, whispered in her ear the first time they’d huddled together in their coats and blankets in the sand under the stars and listened to the ocean breathe. The blood rose in her cheeks as she remembered their stolen time spent together cocooned in each other’s arms, and all the times since. She tried not to think what her mother and father would think, or anybody else she knew. Despite Folly’s past, which included a vacation home for prostitutes, she would be scorned if her friends and neighbors knew her secret.

  Mostly, she tried not to think about her own conscience, or the consequences of her sin. She was shamed, but somehow defiant, too. It seemed that her entire life she’d spent doing the right thing, being everyone’s constant; a jetty deflecting others’ sorrows at the expense of her own. She had let Jim go so easily, and even Peter—at first. But she wasn’t that same girl anymore. Lulu’s revelation had awakened something that had been festering since she’d promised her mother to protect Cat. It was an unnamable thing between resentment and loyalty, a truth she’d tried to deny her entire life. She had passions, and wants, and desires—all the things she’d kept hidden. Until Peter. And Peter loved this new and brave Maggie, and that was who she now chose to be.

  “I was hoping you’d have something for my niece.” Maggie redirected her attention to Lillian Rhodes, an attractive blonde whose family had owned the same summer home on East Arctic since the turn of the century. “She’s coming to stay with me until the war is over. They live in Cape Hatteras, and my sister is just petrified that the Germans are going to invade. There have been so many ships sunk right off the coast there, and two weeks ago an Eagle Scout patrolling the beach found a dinghy that had been hidden behind the dunes. They think it was used by spies from a German U-boat. Who knows where they are now? My sister just didn’t want to take any chances with Rebecca.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be safe here, Mrs. Rhodes. Our patrols are pretty thorough, and we haven’t seen anything out in the water for months now—not since Mrs. Knutson thought she saw a German sub while she was on lookout duty. They’ve probably all gone north because they know they can’t get to us here on Folly without being seen.”

  Mrs. Rhodes widened her blue eyes. “That’s exactly what I said. So Rebecca will stay with me until the end of the war. I’d like my sister to come, too, but she wants to stay put for her husband. He’s a merchant marine, and when he gets leave, she wants to be there.”

  “I understand.” Maggie changed the subject. “So how old is Rebecca and what types of books does she like?”

  As they talked, the bell over the door rang. Maggie didn’t go look, knowing that most of her customers would come find her or leave the money on the counter if they just needed a newspaper or some other item they could grab themselves. She was reaching up for a copy of A. A. Milne’s When We Were Very Young when she heard the sound of a coin hitting the bottom of the can behind her.

  Her neck tingled, like it had been brushed with an unseen kiss. She had to pause for a moment to catch her breath, feeling the heat begin to pool behind her knees. Schooling a professional smile on her face, she turned around.

  “Peter, what a nice surprise. Welcome home. Cat must be so happy to see you since the baby’s due any minute now.”

  He took off his hat and held it in his right hand. In his left, he held a book. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Rhodes. Margaret.” He nodded to each of them, his eyes meeting Maggie’s briefly. “I haven’t seen Cat yet. That’s my next stop. I wanted to return my book first before I forgot.”

  He handed it to her, and Maggie took it, briefly glancing at the title: Romeo and Juliet.

  Mrs. Rhodes eyed it, too. “Is that Shakespeare? I think Rebecca might enjoy that. She’s very advanced for her age.”

  M
aggie held the book close to her chest. “I’m not sure it would be appropriate, Lillian. How old did you say Rebecca was—fourteen? I think it sends the wrong message to young girls, not to mention it has such a sad ending. Especially in these times, I think a more uplifting book would be more suitable.”

  Mrs. Rhodes knitted her eyebrows, not looking entirely convinced.

  Maggie turned back to the shelf, her eyes rapidly scanning the books. She tipped back the binding of the first book she found, and pulled it off the shelf. “Has Rebecca read the Betsy-Tacy stories? This one is the first in the series—but there are two more. Every girl is reading them right now.”

  Lillian took the book and opened it to the first page, reading silently to herself. Smiling she said, “You’re absolutely right, of course. I can see how this type of story would be much better for a young girl like Rebecca. Do you have the other two in the series? That way, if she likes this one, I can come back and get the next two.”

  Maggie hoped she hid her relief. “Why don’t you take all of them now to save you a trip? I promise you, she’ll love them. Lulu read them all in two days and is eagerly waiting for the next one.” She turned back to the shelves and quickly found Betsy-Tacy and Tib, and Betsy and Tacy Go over the Big Hill. “All you owe me is a single nickel.” She indicated the can. “Just drop it in there, and take one out when you return the last book.”

  “Thank you, Maggie. I do appreciate it. I’ll send Rebecca back so you can meet her.”

  The bell rang, and two men in uniform entered, the last one holding the door open for Mrs. Rhodes as she left. Peter’s eyes held Maggie’s for a moment before Maggie turned to greet the two men.

  She returned to Peter, her eyes meeting his as the spot behind her left ear began to ache. Forcing her voice to sound normal, she said, “I have a book I thought you might like. I’m holding it behind the counter for you.”

  Maggie felt his gaze on her as she walked to the shelves under the cash register, where she kept her pocket book and lunch pail, and slid the slim volume toward him. “Do you like plays?” She turned and handed him the book with the green linen cover. “This is a series of plays by John Ford. My favorite is The Lover’s Melancholy.”

  He took the book from her, his fingertips lingering over hers, making the spot at the base of her throat tingle with a remembered kiss.

  “I’ll look forward to reading it.” His eyes held hers for a long moment until the two customers approached to pay for their purchases.

  The door opened abruptly, shortening the ring of the bell. Lulu ran inside, her face red and covered in perspiration despite the chill outside, one of her pigtails loose from its ribbon. “Maggie! Martha told me to get here just as fast as I could—she said Cat’s started her pains and they’re coming real fast.”

  Clutching the book tightly, Maggie said, “Go get Dr. Brown and tell him what you just told me. I’ll go right home.”

  The two customers left and Maggie ducked to pull out her purse. “Peter’s back—and in the nick of time, I would say.”

  Lulu stood facing Peter, breathing heavily as she scrunched her nose. “Just now? But I saw you . . .” She stopped, her face going slightly paler. “Never mind.” Turning on her heel, she ran back out the door without another word.

  Maggie grabbed her purse and coat, and as she flipped the Closed sign in the door before opening it, she realized that Peter was still staring after Lulu.

  AS IT TURNED OUT, DR. Brown beat them to the house by about five minutes. Lulu had run into him coming out of McNally’s and they’d taken his car to the house. Peter and Maggie rushed past the doctor’s car on the curb, stopping abruptly inside the door as a loud scream rumbled down the stairs. Turning to face Peter, Maggie said, “Keep your coat on and wait on the porch. I’m hoping there’s still time to take her to the hospital, but be prepared to wait just in case there isn’t.”

  His gaze strayed to the staircase behind her, then settled back on her face. “All right. I’ll wait there. Just let me know if . . . if she asks for me.”

  Maggie’s eyes slid away as she nodded, his hand squeezing hers as she turned to run up the stairs just as another jarring scream exploded from upstairs like a sudden tidal surge. Lulu leaned on the wall outside Cat’s bedroom, her color back to normal and looking a lot calmer than Maggie felt.

  Just as Maggie reached the top step, Martha opened the door with a bundle of towels wrapped in a sheet. Maggie clenched her teeth when she saw the blood on one of the towels, watching as it stained the sheet in a growing circle of crimson.

  Martha handed the bundle to Lulu. “You go take this and throw it on the back porch, then rush right back up here with more clean towels, you here? And be quick about it.” Her brown eyes settled on Maggie. “You get in here fast—she been askin’ for you. Doctor say it won’t be long.”

  Lulu stopped at the top of the stairs, holding the bundle as far away from her body as her arms could reach, and turned her face away. Through gritted teeth, she said, “I’m never having babies. Not ever.” Then she ran down the stairs, managing to get down them without tripping.

  The stench of blood and sweat hit Maggie as she entered the room. Dr. Brown was draping a sheet over Cat’s upraised knees, and he turned toward Maggie. “That baby’s ready to come. No time to get her to the hospital.” He approached her, his gray eyes serious behind his glasses. “Where’s your phone? I need to call my office and have my nurse bring me what I need. And whatever you do, don’t let her push until I get back.”

  Maggie sent the doctor to the kitchen while Martha stood by Cat’s head, mopping her forehead with a damp rag. Maggie moved to the side of the bed, hardly recognizing the Catherine she knew in the swollen, shiny face of the woman on the pillow. The large mound of her stomach protruded under the white sheet like an exposed secret and Maggie found she couldn’t look at it. Instead she took Cat’s hand, the skin clammy and cold. Cat gripped her fingers tight enough to break them, like they were a drowning victim’s last hope.

  Maggie glanced up at Martha, who’d given birth six times and had helped bring four grandchildren into the world. “Thanks, Martha, for staying. Does everything . . . ?” She swallowed, unsure how to phrase her question. “Does everything look all right?”

  Martha gave her a weary smile. “So far. Baby coming real fast, is all.”

  Cat began to thrash on her pillow, squeezing Maggie’s hand even tighter until Maggie could feel the bones rubbing against each other, the band of her ring cutting into the flesh on the inside of her finger.

  “Don’t you push, Miss Cat. Doctor ain’t ready for you to push.” Martha held the cool cloth on Cat’s forehead, pressing on it as if to hold in the pain.

  Cat screamed, raising the hair on Maggie’s scalp. “I have to. I have to.” She began to groan, and Martha dropped the rag to use both hands to hold Cat’s legs down until the urge had passed.

  “I’ve got to see what’s taking Lulu so long with them towels. Miss Cat be fine for a moment with you here, okay?”

  Maggie nodded at Martha’s reassuring glance.

  Cat was breathing heavily, her eyes bloodshot from the strain. “Open the window, Mags. It’s so damned hot in here.”

  Maggie stood, rubbing her hand to renew circulation as she approached the window and pulled up the lock. With an easy shove on both sides, the casement windows opened, allowing a cool breeze and fresh air to penetrate the pall of the room. Forcing a light tone, she said, “I wish the window in my room would open so easily.”

  “Mags?”

  Reluctantly, Maggie returned to the side of the bed and reached for Cat’s hand with her right one. “Yes, Cat, I’m here.”

  “I need you to promise . . .”

  A heavy stone of dread rolled into place in the pit of her stomach. “Promise what, Cat?”

  “I need you to promise me . . .” She licked dry, cracked lips. “I want you to take the baby. If I die. I want you to raise this baby as your own. You’d be a much better mothe
r—we both know that.” She clenched her eyes, her hands flying to her protruding stomach, her fingers arched like claws. “Promise me.”

  Panic seized Maggie as she squeezed Cat’s hand between both of hers. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’re not going to—”

  “Promise me.” Cat’s voice was urgent, her head beginning to toss on the pillow as another contraction gripped her frail body.

  Martha, carrying a bundle of clean towels, entered the room at the same time as the doctor. She approached the bed while Dr. Brown went to the window, closing both sides with an irrefutable snap. “It’s too cold in here—we’ll all end up with pneumonia.”

  Cat began to writhe again, but her eyes settled on Maggie’s face. “Promise me,” her mouth formed but no words came out.

  Slowly, Maggie nodded, making another promise that would bind her to someone else forever. She imagined the stone in the pit of her stomach growing moss, reminding her how permanent the bond of a promise made could be: as delicate as a spiderweb, but just as impossible to extricate yourself once the words were spoken. Maggie stepped back from the bed, feeling already the soft filament of a web forming around her.

  CHAPTER 24

  FOLLY BEACH, SOUTH CAROLINA

  October 2009

  Emmy found a spot close to the Reynolds house on West Hudson, and parked her car. The party wasn’t scheduled to start for another fifteen minutes, but Heath had said he and his dad had found something to show her, and he’d asked her to get there a little early.