The Widows of Sea Trail-Vivienne of Sugar Sands

by Jacqueline DeGroot

  My thoughts went back to the diet and how much I could realistically lose in a week’s time if I went all out. If I stuck with the plan, walked three miles each day, and drank only one small glass of wine at night, I figured I could lose another six or seven pounds. I was three days from the end of an eleven-day cycle, so soon I would have three free days. The premise of this diet is the likelihood that in the three day break you won’t put back all of what you lost in the preceding eleven, and that maybe, some of the good habits from the regimen will even carry over into the free days and you’ll maintain the entire loss. I had not done that so far, but figured for the incentive I now had, I could stay the course and even lose on the break.

  I would have preferred our first meeting to be a month from now when I would have a better chance of achieving my goal of weighing 135 pounds, but that wasn’t to be, I was still going to be a bit on the “plush” side unless I found a surgeon with a sculpting knife or opted for lipo at a plastic surgery clinic in Myrtle Beach, which I was not going to do. So my mind reverted to camouflage. What could I wear to hide ten to fifteen pounds, most of which were in my ass, hips, and breasts? Mentally I went through my wardrobe, selecting and rejecting until finally I remembered a black suit in the back of my closet that I hadn’t worn since Dale’s funeral. Then I’d worn it with a frothy lace blouse. I wondered what the effect would be if this time I paired the jacket with a shiny gold or silver cami. I’d seen a taupe-colored one at Belk’s that had some lace edging. Hmmm . . . and the shoes? This called for heels of course, the highest I could manage without having to kick them off under the table as soon as I sat down. And a snazzy purse to match of course, and those whimsy earrings I bought from Eula Dyer at Sue Hunady’s Holiday sale last fall, and . . .

  Before I knew it I was at the jetty. I had broken a sweat and had just kept pumping along. I laughed out loud, had I finally broken into this mystical zone everyone was always raving about, where exercise became euphoric?

  I smiled at the two lovers I saw on the backside of Bird Island wrapped in a heavy blanket, snuggled up against the dunes. There was something energetic about the prospect of being in love and I wondered how many dates I would prepare for before I met the man who would snare my heart again. Surely, I wouldn’t get it right the very first time at bat.

  Just as I got to the jetty, I saw a group of young women returning and smiled at them. They looked at me funny and one even laughed as they passed me. Then I remembered my “new” lips. There was no down time with this procedure, but Johnny had said there would be some swelling I would have to endure for a few days. I would have Lisa Rinna lips—overly plumped with both lips turned out for a very exaggerated pout. I had forgotten about my lips since they were still numb from the medication and the ice pack I’d had on them. I turned and mentally shook my finger at the women’s backs, saying they could only hope to look half as good when they were my age. I turned back and continued down the beach, realizing from that brief turn around that I would have to duck my head and fight against the wind for the return trip.

  I stopped at the Kindred Spirit mailbox and read the letters from today and yesterday. This time of the year there would only be one or two a day. During the season, there would be so many that fresh notebooks would have to be brought out bi-weekly.

  One of the letters was from a woman who extolled the beauty of the island and the State’s prudence in buying it when the opportunity had presented itself a few years ago. Another was from a man who, ring in hand, was going to propose to his girlfriend on this very site at sunset, and a third was from what I assumed was a teenager, fraught with angst over the way her best friend was acting—getting drunk every night and giving it up to whichever lucky boy happened to hook up with her at the Myrtle Beach clubs on the weekends. She sounded like a local and I had to wonder if she or her friend had a connection to anyone I knew. There were very few teenagers who lived on the island all year long, and hardly any on the plantation to speak of. Ocean Isle, Shallotte, and Holden Beach had the bulk of them. The girl sounded sincerely worried about her friend. She signed her name as Jazzy.

  I dug in the mailbox and found a pen and wrote back to her. Jazzy,

  There’s probably nothing you can do on your own to change your friend’s behavior. Chances are that things are only going to get worse for your friend. As hard as it might be for you to consider this, you need to alert her parents to the risks she is taking, even if it means losing her as your friend forever. Yes I mean forever, as she will probably never speak to you again if she finds out you were the one who told on her. But you owe it to her. She could die from drinking too much or establish a life-long pattern of drinking that could ruin her life. She could get an STD from unprotected sex, or even get pregnant. Because she’s having one-night stands with multiple partners, many who are only in town for a night or two, she might never know who the father is. You need to be a true friend and sacrifice your friendship for her life. She won’t thank you for it—probably ever. But at least you won’t have to live with the knowledge that you could have saved her from permanently screwing up her life. Trust me on this, I’ve seen it happen many times. V.

  Having done my good deed for the day, I replaced the pen and notebook and braved my way back to the water line where the sand was packed and easier to walk on. The wind had picked up and I felt biting mist hitting my face. Great, I thought, I’m quite a slog from the nearest shelter of any kind. I’ll be soaked to the skin by the time I make it back to the pier and to my car, and with my luck this will turn into bronchitis by morning, effectively ruining my date with Philip Camden next week. I fingered the cell phone I always carry in my pocket. Cat or Tess would pick me up at the 40th Street access and save me a good soaking. I took my phone out and opened it. Then I snapped it shut. Hell, I wasn’t going to wimp out. I started jogging, my head bent low, plowing against the wind and rain. I hated running almost as much as I hated dealing with my greedy, evil-minded stepchildren. But I hadn’t backed down with them, and I wasn’t about to give in to this spate of foul weather either! I poured it on, concentrating on one thing—putting one foot in front of the other—until the rain started coming down so fiercely that I had no choice but to fall to my knees and cover my head.

  I was at least half a mile from the closest house, which probably wouldn’t even be occupied. I was freezing and soaked completely through, and I couldn’t see but ten feet in front of me, and what I could see was a solid sheet of pelting rain. I couldn’t help it, I began to cry. The absolute last thing I needed was more water, but my eyes were streaming with it. I was so tired of being alone. So desperately tired of struggling and managing every part of every single day all by myself. I hated that there was no one at home to worry if I didn’t make it home tonight. I was as lonely as I have ever been. And I was as scared as I’d been the day I took my top off and begged a loathsome man to give me a job humiliating myself at that bar. I sank to the sand, sobbing and shaking. Talking to Philip about all this had brought old memories to the foreground, dredging up things I hadn’t thought about in a long time.

  I don’t know how long I sat on the wet sand sobbing but I started when I heard the drone of a motor and looked up to see two yellow lights headed my way. At first I thought the lights were going to go around me, but then I noticed the lights were attached by something in the middle. At the last second, both the driver and I realized a crash was imminent. I rolled toward the water and the dune buggy spun in the sand, locking up against the softer sand higher on the beach. I was far enough down the beach that a wave washed over me and I felt my bone marrow fill with ice.

  Big, strong hands went under my body and lifted me. I was snuggled up to a hard chest and carried to the dune buggy, which I now saw was actually a carryall. I was deposited in the back and covered with a tarp. Then I heard the engine start up and felt the back and forth movement of the vehicle shifting against the sand as it backed up and straightened. Moments later the engine roared and I felt the flappi
ng of the tarp as I was driven toward what I assumed was the pier.

  “You’re an idiot ya know.”

  That brogue could only belong to one man. Roman. “Yes, yes I know,” I mumbled. Then I swiped at my tears

  with a wet sleeve. As if he’d be able to tell my tears from the rain. He turned back to look at me. “Good God lass, what’s happened to your lips, surely they’re not frostbitten?”

  I had to chuckle. “No, I had them plumped today.”

  “Well, I don’t want to be the one to tell you this but I think you went way overboard.”

  “They’re just swollen, they’ll be fine in a day or two.”

  “Good, because all this walkin’ ain’t going to do you a bit o’ good with those sausages around your teeth. You looked just fine before ya know. Damn fine.”

  Leave it to Roman to make me feel stupid and vain.

  We bounced across the wooden planks on the emergency access by the gazebo then sped up when the tires hit the pavement. I heard him call out to someone and then felt my body shift and slam against the side rails as he turned left and accelerated again. A few minutes later we jerked to a halt and I felt the tarp being pulled off me. Roman lifted me into his arms and I heard him call out, “Get us a room and make it quick!” Into my ear he whispered, “They had to tie up the bridge because of the wind, we were the last car over. It’s startin’to die down now, but no tellin’when we can get you home. I’m thinking you’re gonna need a room to recover from this though.”

  I was tight against his chest, being carried as a child, my face held to his shoulder by his hand on the back of my head as he ran up a series of steps. For the first time in a long time I felt safe, cared for, treasured in an ethereal way. I knew it was because Roman loved Tess, Tess loved me, and therefore, he loved me. I wanted a man to love me the way Roman loved Tess. And in that moment I was determined that I wouldn’t settle for anything less.

  “Tess, get all the blankets off this bed and see if there’s more in the closet. Cat, you get her clothes off and towel her dry, her hair too, then wrap her head in a towel. Matt, we’ll need a thermometer, see if the innkeeper has one. If she’s more than four or five degrees down, we’ll have to call for an ambulance. They may have to send an airlift if they can’t close the bridge. We’ll need some warm water for her to drink.”

  “No, no,” I murmured, “No ambulance.”

  “I’m not likely to be trusting the likes of you. You, not knowin’ to come in out of the rain!” he said in an agitated huff.

  “I was trying to!”

  “Don’t give her such a hard time Roman,” Tessa said. “The squall did come on pretty fast. Nice lips, Viv,” Tessa teased.

  “ ’Tis good she’s respondin’and fighting me, and that her pulse is steady. And she’s shiverin’ so she can increase her own temperature if she’s a mind to.”

  I was shivering so hard my teeth could be heard chattering as I sat on the toilet seat and Cat pulled off my shoes and socks and then my coat. I heard Tessa kick the bathroom door shut as my jogging pants were pulled down my legs. They were so cold they actually felt as if they were on fire, an odd sensation considering I knew how cold they were. I looked down and saw that my thighs were bright scarlet. My sweater, t-shirt and cami came off next and I was left in my bra and underwear. The door was inched open and a glass filled with warm water was placed on the counter along with a digital thermometer. Roman’s voice gave the admonition, “Be sure to take her temperature before giving her the water.”

  Tess and Cat helped dry me and as gentle as they tried to be, I cried out in pain. My skin prickled and I felt pins and needles shooting through my whole body. The door burst open and Roman said, “Hurry and get her temperature!”

  Not too cold to be self-conscious, I opened my mouth when Cat shoved the probe inside. Mere seconds later she hollered out, “94 and a half!”

  “Borderline. Let’s get her wrapped up.” When I was bundled, he picked up the glass with the warm water and fed it to me, urging me to drink it all.

  I cried as they tried to get me to walk to the bedroom, my joints hurt so badly. I felt awful; I was shivering, but felt like I was burning. Roman picked me up and carried me the last few feet to the bed.

  Matt came to the door and said, “The paramedics are on the way, they got the bridge in place. God, what’s wrong with her lips?”

  “Good, she may need some of those fancy aluminum blankets they have,” Roman said as he rolled me into a blanket. “Donna’ worry about the lips, it’s just her vanity gettin’ the best of her.” Then he reached inside and pulled my panties down and off, my bra was dispatched from the top opening.

  “You gotta admire how fast he can get a woman out of her underclothes,” I mumbled, as he tucked the blanket around me and grabbed for another. Layer upon layer was added and wrapped around me until I was cocooned as if in a sleeping bag. I started to feel better, although I was still shivering pretty violently.

  Roman sat me up and fed me more water. The tepidliquid felt as if it was burning my mouth. I looked up at Roman and saw how worried he was, and then I heard people running up the stairs and the door banging open.

  So, there I was with seven people in the bedroom staring down at me, all bundled up, my face with my huge lips sticking out, my soggy bra and underwear tossed in a heap beside the bed. It occurred to me then that they both were mostly lace, as I certainly needed no padding of any sort, and that Roman and Matt had seen me in them. I shivered but this time it was something other than the cold that caused it. I was mortified and then relieved as I knew the fact that I cared about issues of modesty meant I was more than likely out of danger.

  The three newcomers, all fresh-looking paramedics, stood by the bed for a moment then each opened the suitcase they’d brought in and started hooking me up to whatever was in each case. Roman gave them my vitals; giving my temperature as 94.5 Fahrenheit adding, “That’s 35 Celsius, and her pulse is 68.” Tessa noted that he’d taken it three times and that it hadn’t changed. Then Roman pulled Tessa out of the way and I felt my hand fall out of Cat’s as Matt pulled her aside, too.

  Numbers were called out that meant absolutely nothing to me and a man was talking into a radio to what sounded like some kind of command center. Back and forth they talked about my lips, wondering what could have caused them to swell to three times their normal size.

  A hand gently stayed mine as I tried to take off my turban-styled towel. “You have a cardiac monitor on, just lie still.”

  I took a deep breath and did as they asked. Then I motioned for the young man to bend down and come closer. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I whispered, “I’m afraid they made me drink too much water.”

  He chuckled and said they’d help me to the bathroom as soon as I warmed up just a bit more. He touched my lips with his gloved fingers, “Do these hurt?”

  I laughed and shook my head. Then I mumbled something about it being from a cosmetic procedure.

  Forty-five minutes later the paramedics left, and Cat and Matt went to get me some dry clothes. Roman returned the carryall to the pier and Tessa got some brandy from the trunk of their car. She and I sat on the bed looking out at the Intracoastal, watching the boats and sipping the brandy while we waited for everyone to get back.

  “How’d you know to come get me?”

  “You said you were going to take your walk on the beach after seeing Johnny, and you weren’t home when we called. This squall came up so suddenly that it made me think you could easily be in it. When we saw your car in the parking lot at the gazebo, we knew you were stuck somewhere out there. Thank God, you always walk in the same direction. Roman got Marc to loan him the carryall.”

  I looked over to see Roman, who had just come back and was now leaning against the doorframe, handsome as sin, his hair still damp from his ride in the rain.

  “Thank you, Roman. I couldn’t have made it back without you. I would have died out there on the beach.”

  “Nei
ther Tess nor Cat are about to let you get out of this date next week, even by dyin’. So I’d advise you to take care, maybe use the treadmill at the Pink Palace until springtime, eh?”

  “Ahh, I sense a bit of testiness now, now that the danger of me dying is over.”

  “Well, you did interrupt somethin’Tess and I were workin’ on. However, seeing you in your lovely lingerie made up for the interruption. Don’t you be losing too much weight on this new diet. Somewhere there’s a man who’s going to appreciate those generous curves of yours. And those lips, once they settle down a bit, they should be vera nice too.”

  I went warm all over. This time the tingling wasn’t from the cold. Seemed all I needed to get my body temperature back to normal was a few flattering words by a rogue of a man. I laughed, “Roman, you certainly are good for what ails a woman. I hope to God that the man who appreciates my ‘generous curves’ is half as charming as you are.”

  The three of us clinked glasses and continued to sip and watch the boats go by while we waited for Cat and Matt to get back. When they did, I got dressed, blew my hair dry, fixed my makeup from the purse Roman had retrieved from my car, and we all went to The Grapevine for dinner. I had shrimp with cocktail sauce, one lonely piece of Italian sausage, and a glass of Chianti. And plenty of ribbing from Mac, the owner, about my Jolie pout, referring to Angelina’s generous kisser.