On Folly Beach

by Karen White

  Emmy’s hand immediately went to her cell phone to call Heath before she remembered it was close to four o’clock in the morning. She leaned back in her chair and stared at the familiar face in front of her, and waited as the puzzle pieces began to slide into place.

  EMMY HATED HOSPITALS. SHE SUPPOSED it was because she’d been to one so many times as a child to visit her mother after each miscarriage. They reminded her of forced smiles and lost expectations, and stale lollipops given to her by well-meaning nurses.

  Roper Hospital was no different. Despite the different-colored walls and tiled floors, layout, and artwork, it was still a hospital, and Emmy found it hard to shake the feeling of having been there before.

  At the main desk, she asked for directions to the floor where Lulu had been moved; then she made her way to the waiting room, where Heath had told her he’d be with his parents and Lizzie. In the end, she hadn’t told Heath what she’d found out about Peter. She’d already stepped too far over the line, and she’d rather keep Peter’s secret for the rest of her life than cross that line. Her only goal in speaking to Lulu this morning was to find out about what had happened to Maggie and Peter. That way, Emmy told herself, she would know the end of their story and could move on. As to where, or what, she had no idea.

  Heath stood as she entered and greeted her first before Emmy made the rounds of hugs and kissing cheeks, finally settling into a chair next to Lizzie. After sitting down, she noticed Jolene standing in the corner. Her color was slightly better than when Emmy had last seen her, her eyes clear but sad. Emmy remembered what Heath had told her about Jolene’s mother, and realized that Jolene had an even greater reason to hate hospitals than Emmy did. Jolene gave Emmy a small smile before finding a seat on the bank of scratchy cloth chairs beneath the window. Close enough to the family but not too close.

  Emmy touched Lizzie’s arm. “How are you? How are the babies? I guess I’m going to have to make the drive over to Mt. Pleasant soon to actually see them.”

  “We’re fine. Thanks for asking. Joe’s with them now, which means I can’t stay long—you know how men are when they’re required to multitask.” She rolled her eyes at her father’s grunt.

  Turning to John, Emmy asked, “How’s Lulu?”

  “A lot better than she should be, apparently. Still as crusty as ever and no permanent damage to her heart. They say she’ll be able to go home in a few days. There will be some adjustments with her diet which she won’t be happy about, but we’ll work on it.” He sent a quick glance to his wife. “Right now she’s refusing to talk to anybody but you. And she wants to see you, Heath, and Jolene together.”

  Emmy glanced up, meeting Heath’s eyes before they both turned to Jolene, who looked just as surprised.

  “Well, then, we’d better go see her.” Emmy stood and began walking toward the door, her flip-flops slapping against the tile floor.

  “Emmy,” Abigail called to her, “flip-flops in October?” She smiled, her perpetually browned skin creasing.

  “Well, it warmed up today, so I figured I might as well.”

  John let out a chuckle. “Careful, there. The more you start dressing like a tourist, the more you start looking like a native.”

  Emmy paused at the door while Jolene and Heath joined her. “I think I’ve heard that before.” With a smile, she allowed Heath to hold open the door as she and Jolene passed through and made their way to Lulu’s room.

  The room had two beds, but the other bed was unoccupied, and the partition separating them was pulled back. Heath set three chairs by the bed and they sat down, Emmy by herself on Lulu’s left side.

  Lulu watched them, her glasses lending her face an odd normality, considering the oxygen tubes coming from her nose. Without greeting any of them, she turned to Emmy. “So what do you know?”

  Used to Lulu’s abruptness, Emmy didn’t answer. Instead she said, “I’m glad you’re doing better. John tells us that you’ll be coming home in a few days.”

  Lulu’s lips twitched as if she was trying not to smile. Serious again, she repeated, “What do you know?”

  Emmy leaned forward. “Jolene and Heath are here. Is that all right?”

  “I asked them to come, didn’t I?”

  Emmy blew breath out of her lower lip, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “Are you sure? I only know bits and pieces—which could be more dangerous than knowing the whole story. . . .”

  “I’m old, Emmy, but not yet dead. I know Heath and Jolene are here because I can see them with my own eyes. So when I ask you to tell me what you know, it’s because I want them to hear it. All of it.”

  Without glancing at Heath or Jolene, Emmy nodded. “All right then.” Leaning back in her chair, she kept her eyes on Lulu as she spoke. “The messages in the books were between Maggie and Peter, although Peter’s handwriting was different from the inscriptions in your book and Maggie’s. I believe that was deliberate, as he didn’t want anybody connecting his unsigned margin messages with him.” She stared hard at Lulu to see if the last part had any effect on her, but Lulu’s expression remained the same.

  Emmy continued. “Cat married Peter in June nineteen forty-two, and seven months later, she had a baby. I’m assuming that’s John, Heath’s father, since the birth date matches.”

  “Go on.”

  Emmy glanced at Heath and Jolene, who looked as confused as she felt. “That’s really all, except . . . except for Peter’s real name.” She waited for a moment to see if Lulu would stop her.

  “Yes?”

  Emmy drew a deep breath. “It was Peter Koehler, wasn’t it?”

  Lulu’s face appeared to soften, to smooth out its wrinkles and age spots as if the weight of years was being lifted. “And what else?”

  Again Emmy glanced at Heath, but his face remained blank. “He was a German spy, embedded on Folly to collect information and send it to the U-boats that were off the coast here and farther north. He was part of a larger spy ring that was mostly apprehended in nineteen forty-one—all except for him. He disappeared in nineteen forty-three.” She swallowed. “That’s all I know.”

  Lulu’s eyes were closed and Emmy thought she might have gone to sleep. She’d started to stand when Lulu’s hand shot out and grabbed her forearm, her grip surprisingly strong. Lulu’s lips were thin and colorless, but her eyes were a rich hazel behind her glasses. “I want you to know the rest of the story. But at the rate you’re going, I don’t think I’ll live long enough for you to figure it all out by yourself.”

  Emmy sat back down. “Don’t say that, Lulu. You’re going to be fine.”

  Lulu frowned but didn’t pull away. “I didn’t mean today. But I’m not going to live forever, and at the rate you’ve been going, I’d have to.” She sent a cursory glance to Heath and Jolene. “It’s time to tell the truth.” She took a deep breath, her eyes closed. “It’s time to tell the story of how I killed the one person I loved most in this world.”

  Emmy leaned forward, the puzzle pieces she’d so neatly placed in her head beginning to scatter. “Who, Lulu? Peter?”

  The old woman shook her head, her eyes searching out Heath’s. “No. It was Maggie. I killed my Maggie.” She closed her eyes then and said, very softly, “I’m going to start at the very beginning, on the night when Maggie first met Peter on the Folly Beach pier.” Then, after a deep breath, she began to tell her story.

  CHAPTER 29

  FOLLY BEACH, SOUTH CAROLINA

  May 1943

  The rain fell hard on the dirt road, each drop like a little slap. Lulu knew she’d never be able to listen to rain again without seeing Cat lying in the backyard and feeling so scared she thought she might actually die.

  She ran to the end of the street, where the Healy family lived. They had five boys and all of them had bikes. Lulu figured they wouldn’t miss one for a couple of hours, especially since it was raining.

  She took the first bike she found leaning against a palmetto trunk near the end of the driveway. As she pedaled a
way, she realized it must belong to Harold, the oldest boy, because she had to stand to pedal it since the seat was too high up.

  It was hard moving the bike through mud and puddles, and she could hardly see because of the rain blowing in her eyes. She knew she was crying, too, but none of it mattered. She needed to get to Peter before Maggie did, and that was all she needed to be thinking about.

  She passed no one, taking back streets just in case, and moving toward the farthest end of East Ashley. She spotted Peter’s car pulled up on the side of the road, partially hidden by scrub brush, but she’d been looking for it. It was empty, as she’d been hoping, and the final part of her plan fell into place. Allowing herself to sigh with relief, she began to feel a little less worried that her plan wasn’t going to work.

  She dropped the bike in the sand as she neared the beach and continued on foot, noticing that the rain had let up and was coming down now in a constant drizzle. But the waves were white-tipped and angry-looking, splashing up over the rocks of the groin that extended out into the ocean. Lulu eyed the lighthouse, reassured to see there was still enough island surrounding it. She’d checked the tide schedule that morning—a habit started when her father was alive and they’d sat down for breakfast together. She’d been very small, but it was the only time she ever remembered having his attention.

  Looking up at the sky, she figured it was around six thirty, and high tide would be coming in about an hour, although the storm seemed to be pushing it in early. Lulu crossed her fingers like Amy had taught her to do, and made a wish that everything would happen now like it was supposed to.

  At first, she wasn’t sure she’d heard her name being called or if it had just been the wind echoing against the deserted stretch of beach. But she’d been expecting to see Peter, so she didn’t scream when he touched her arm.

  Rain poured off the brim of his hat, and his raincoat and pants appeared black from the rain.

  “Lulu,” he said again and she made herself not step back, “did you give Maggie the book?”

  She nodded, and when she spoke, she remembered to shout so he would be sure to hear her over the rain. “Yes. But there’s a problem. The police came to the house looking for you. They want to know where you are. Maggie’s afraid that they’re watching for your car all over the island.”

  He drew back, his eyes looking black behind the rain. “Isn’t she coming?”

  “Yes. She’s definitely coming. But she’s coming by boat. And don’t worry about her—she knows the water and has been out in a boat in weather worse than this. She wanted to make sure you knew that so you wouldn’t worry. She’s going to borrow a neighbor’s boat and pick you up at the lighthouse. She’s got it all figured out. She can’t get close to the beach with the currents and everything, so that’s the safest place. After she picks you up, you’ll head to Sullivan’s Island, where she’s arranged for a car.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Whose car?”

  Lulu didn’t flinch as she quickly ran through possible answers in her head. “She didn’t tell me. She said it would be safer for me if I didn’t know.”

  His shoulders relaxed under his soaking raincoat. “When will she be here?”

  “She told me no later than seven thirty. There are people looking for you all over Folly right now, and you need to head to the lighthouse to hide before the creek gets too deep.”

  He glanced over at the creek, which separated Folly Island from Morris Island, then at the ocean beginning to swell the creek’s banks as it did at every high tide. Lulu crossed her fingers tighter, hoping he’d believe her and not ask her any more questions.

  Looking back at her, he asked, “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

  She stared at him, knowing that it was all over, that he was about to guess everything. But then the words came to her lips, exploding from her mouth before she even had time to figure out what they were. “Because I love my sister. And Maggie loves you no matter what and wants to be with you.” She knew she sounded convincing, because for the first time that night, she’d told him the truth.

  Lulu held her breath as he continued to stare at her. Finally he said, “All right.” Cupping his hand over his wristwatch to protect it from the rain, he added, “Tell her I’ll be waiting at the lighthouse door.” He frowned. “Are you sure she can handle a boat in this kind of weather?”

  Looking him straight in the eye, Lulu answered, “She’s visited or lived on Folly Beach for most of her life. There’s nothing she doesn’t know about the ocean or how to handle a boat.” She looked behind him to the creek. “You need to hurry. The creek is rising fast.”

  “Thank you, Lulu. You’re a good sister.” He unbuttoned the top of his raincoat and reached into an inside pocket. But before the raincoat fell back into place, she saw the canvas bag that was slung over his shoulder. A canvas bag that looked like the kind used by couriers in the few war movies Maggie had allowed her to watch. Lulu pretended she hadn’t seen it and instead accepted what he was offering her.

  She took it, not realizing it was a chocolate bar until he’d already started to walk away in the direction of the lighthouse. “Thank you,” she called out to him, but the rain and wind pushed the words back to her. She watched him until he’d waded across the creek; then she turned around and began to walk away, unable to watch him anymore.

  When she’d reached the road, where she’d left the bike, she stopped, unsure what to do next. Maggie would be home by now and wondering why Johnny was alone. She’d be worried, and might even check the backyard and find Cat. Lulu squeezed her eyes tight, hoping the storm would keep Maggie inside the house.

  She sat down on the bike, trying to tell by the sky what time it was, but the clouds had long since created an early nightfall, making it impossible to even guess. She wondered if Peter had figured out by now that Maggie wasn’t coming, and that the door leading up into the lighthouse was bolted shut, allowing for no escape from the water that was only going to get higher. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the picture of Peter slipping under the waves. But there was another picture, too: a picture of Peter managing to swim back to shore.

  She heard herself groan, knowing that she needed to go back, to be sure that Peter was gone and Maggie was safe. Or else she would spend her entire life wondering.

  Despite the mugginess of the air and the pelting rain, she shivered as she began running back to the beach she’d just left. The creek was impassable now, and if she tried to cross it, the strong currents would take her out into the ocean with no hope of getting back. She walked along the edge of it on the Folly Beach side, her saddle shoes sinking into the sand and filling with water with each step.

  Squinting into the rain, she gazed over at the lighthouse, which was now completely surrounded by water. She stared harder, hoping to see some sign of Peter just so she would know. She was about to give up when she spotted him on top of the cofferdam that Jim told her had been built around the foundation of the lighthouse to protect it from falling into the sea. The storm was pushing the waves up over the edge, covering the lone figure with water. Lulu couldn’t be sure, but it looked like Peter was staring back at her.

  Her eyes stung from the rain and she blinked, and when she looked back, he was gone. Scrambling down the beach to where the rocks of the groin met the shoreline to get a better view, she stared out at the almost-black water and began to shake. It wasn’t that she hadn’t known it would happen, or that it had to happen to keep them all safe. She’d just never expected it to be so real, not something she read about between the covers of a book. And he was going to die because of her.

  “Peter!” she screamed because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Then she spotted him, a black dot in the white-tipped waves, halfway between the lighthouse and the rocks, and all of her thoughts of protecting Maggie seemed to fade. She saw only a person struggling in the water who needed help—someone who wouldn’t be there if it hadn’t been for her. She stood tall and waved her
hands, hoping he could see.

  She studied the direction he was moving, and how fast, and realized that he’d be going past the tip of the groin, and if she could get there in time, she’d be able to reach out and grab an arm. If only she could get there in time.

  Being as careful as she could on the slippery rocks, she began to make her way up the groin, stopping when a huge wave pushed at her and covered her with water. Her eyes stung with the salt and the rain, but she no longer felt any pain. She could only focus on the tip of the groin and getting there as fast as she could.

  Somehow she managed to reach the farthest rocks, which were now nearly submerged. She’d lost a shoe and her hand was bleeding, but when she looked at the blood, it seemed that it was somebody else’s hand. Lifting her head, she looked out toward the ocean again, relieved to see the figure in the water was exactly where she’d thought it would be.

  “Peter!” she called again, and she could tell he’d heard her because he looked up. She couldn’t see his eyes and she was glad. Leaning over as far as she could without falling in herself, she stuck out her arm and waved it back and forth to make sure he saw it. “Over here,” she screamed, just in case he could hear her.

  He lifted an arm and then another as if he was trying to swim, but even Lulu knew that was useless. Her father had lectured her about the currents here, how dangerous they were and how the best thing would be to let the current carry you away until help could reach you. Otherwise, you exhausted yourself and drowned. She could tell by how slowly Peter was moving that he’d been trying to swim to shore and that he didn’t have much time.

  “Peter!” She waved again, and he was close enough this time that she could see his eyes, and they were hard and cold, and she knew she would see those eyes again in every nightmare she’d ever have for the rest of her life. His head sank beneath the waves and she stretched farther, figuring he was moving so fast that she probably had only one chance to grab his arm.