The Beach Trees

by Karen White

  Suddenly shy, I pulled away and began methodically turning off the lights.

  “That can wait, Aimee. Come upstairs with me.”

  He pulled on my hand and led me up the steep, narrow stairs to the large master bedroom, and I tried to erase all thoughts of Mr. and Mrs. Guidry in this same room.

  The moonlight flooded the space with a fuzzy brilliance, blurring the edges of the world around us. I kicked off my shoes and slid down my stockings. The gold band on my finger felt warm and heavy on my skin as I walked into his arms and spread my hands across his back.

  He kissed me, and the blood pounded in my head to the cadence of the surf outside. I felt the tug of the zipper at the back of my dress and then the cool air caressing my bare skin. I reached up to hold the dress in front of me, afraid to let it fall. He tugged but I wouldn’t release it, feeling embarrassed to let him see me.

  He settled the dress on my shoulders and rezipped it before saying, “Don’t go away. I’ll be right back.”

  I heard him running down the wooden stairs and out the front door. Within minutes it slammed again, and his feet raced up the stairs. He stood in the doorway, holding a bottle of wine, a corkscrew, and two glasses. “From your grandmother,” he said, wearing a wide grin.

  We sat on the bed, sipping wine and talking. We spoke of the old summers, and this place, and all the happy memories we had. Gary spoke of our children, and how we would spend each summer here with them and their friends until we were old and gray. We spoke of our future grandchildren, too, and how we would take them fishing on the pier and listen to them whispering on the sleeping porch.

  The talk of children prompted me to bring up something that I hadn’t had the courage to ask, the wine making me much bolder than I would have been. “What about your heart, Gary? I mean . . .” I looked down into my glass. “I mean, do your doctors say it’s okay to . . . to . . . you know . . .”

  “Have conjugal relations?” He threw back his head and laughed. “My doctor said if I was strong enough to run up stairs, I was strong enough to have sex. And if I was strong enough to run up two flights of stairs, then I could have sex twice.”

  I laughed, too, feeling the alcohol from the wine race to my head, relaxing me. I took his glass from his hand and placed them both on the nightstand. Then I stood and let the dress fall from my shoulders. Gary stood, too, and slid the straps of my slip down my arms.

  He took a deep breath. “Aimee . . .”

  I pulled back, worried at the tone in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, sweetheart. I just wanted you to know that you’d make a horrible voodoo queen, because your spells fail spectacularly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He kissed me slowly and then said, “I’m glad to report that both balls are present and accounted for.”

  I laughed softly, smelling his champagne breath, remembering that long-ago summer day on the levee when I’d told both him and Wes what I’d hoped would happen on their wedding nights. “That’s a good thing, since it would be hard to fill this house with children without them.”

  He kissed me again and then we lay down on the bed, the moonlight and the water an unbroken cocoon around us.

  The sun woke me the following morning as it streamed across the bed, lighting on Gary’s head and coating it with bright highlights. He lay on his stomach, his left arm stretched around me. I moved on top of him, kissing him gently on the neck and smelling sweat and stale champagne.

  He rolled over, toppling me from my perch and pinning me under him in a twist of sheets. With a low growl, he yanked the sheets out from between us and threw them on the floor. I closed my eyes, hiding myself from the intensity of his gaze, and felt the heat of his kiss on my belly.

  We made love through the morning and early afternoon, tracking the time by the slant of the sun against the wall. Finally, we rose, and fixed something to eat in the kitchen. I stood barefoot, wearing only his shirt, while I made sandwiches. He stood behind me, crunching on an apple, a hand constantly touching me.

  He nibbled at my neck, pulling at the shirt and baring my collarbone. He paused and spoke, his breath hot on my skin. “Did you think about Wes when we were in bed together?”

  I turned in his arms, pushing away from him, the counter cutting into my back. “Why would you say that?”

  “I’m not blind, Aimee. I see the way you’ve always looked at him. The way you still do.”

  I stepped forward, pressing my forehead into his shoulder. “I married you, Gary. Isn’t that enough?”

  He pushed against me, his arms pinning me to his chest. His voice was low and seductive, his lips almost brushing mine as he spoke. “Just making sure. Because I want all of you.”

  I smoothed the hair off his face, then slid my hands down to rest on his naked shoulders. “You do have all of me.”

  He laughed, making his chest rumble. “Good. Now can we have something to eat?”

  I cuffed him on the side of the head and resumed making sandwiches, glancing at Gary now and then and wondering how much of what I said was true.

  As we ate our sandwiches, Gary said, “Wes had a strange request for me.”

  I kept chewing, trying not to show too much interest. “What was it?”

  “He asked that I make sure Xavier stayed away from you. That he might be dangerous.”

  The food in my mouth felt suddenly very dry. “Why would he say that? I haven’t even seen Xavier since the night of the Comus Ball.” I looked down, remembering the feeling I had of somebody watching me, waiting for me.

  “He didn’t say. But I think Wes believes Xavier might have helped Mother leave with that artist fellow. Who knows?” He reached over and took my hand, squeezing it. “That’s all in the past. All we have now is our future. Together.”

  I smiled, but my appetite was gone. I continued to eat without tasting anything, hoping that Gary was right.

  We left three days later to return to our lives in New Orleans. As we pulled the car out of the driveway, dusk had begun to fall, robbing the earth of its colors. The sun leaked red and orange into the sound, bathing the house in fiery light. Gary drove, his right arm around me, and I watched the house disappear in the rearview mirror, an icon for the family we would one day have. I gave a sigh of contentment and leaned on my husband’s shoulder, ready to begin our life together.

  “I get to sit in the front seat!”

  I slung my purse onto the floor of the car and looked at Johnny. “No, sir. Uncle Gary believes that it’s safest for little people to sit in the back, and I think he might be right.”

  The little boy scowled, his lower lip protruding as far as it would go. “My mommy lets me.”

  “I’m not your mommy, and it’s my car. Either sit in the back or we’re not going to go see 101 Dalmatians.”

  His eyes widened as if to determine whether I meant it. I nodded, and he jerked open the back door, then climbed in.

  I leaned into the backseat. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, sweetheart.” I placed a kiss on top of his head, then closed the door.

  “Where’s Uncle Gary?”

  “I don’t know—he said he was right behind us. Hang on a second and I’ll go find out.” I ran up the steps of the Guidry house, still unsure whether I was enough of a member of the family to simply walk in. Gary and I had our own apartment on Carrollton, but Gary still called this house home. I had my own key, but had never used it in the months since my marriage. I rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer.

  After a few minutes, I rang again before opening the door myself.

  “Gary—why didn’t you answer the door?” The door closed with a small click behind me. “Gary! We’re going to be late.”

  A small groan came from the parlor and I ran inside. Gary lay on the sofa, a forearm thrown over his face. “I’m here. Sorry. Couldn’t quite manage to get the door.”

  I raced over to him, kneeling in front of the sofa. “Gary—what’s wrong? Do I
need to call the doctor?”

  He lifted his arm. “No, I’ll be okay. I just took one of my pills but it takes a few minutes.” His arm fell back over his face.

  His skin was chalky white and mottled like the marbled mausoleums in the cemetery. I sat down next to him and picked up his hand, his skin clammy. “Are you sure I don’t need to call the doctor?”

  “Only to set the broken bones in my hand. You’re squeezing it too tight.”

  “I’m sorry.” I hastily loosened my grip, smoothing my fingers over his hand. “I’m worried about you.”

  His eyes closed as he talked, his breathing slowing and his color returning. “I’ll be fine—I just overexerted myself wrassling with Johnny. He may be small, but he’s tough.” He smiled. “I can’t wait for a dozen of my own.”

  “I can’t wait to see you give birth to them. The things you must be learning in med school.” I nudged him slightly with my elbow.

  “I’ll be happy to start with just one.” His eyes opened, and he reached his hand up to touch my cheek.

  I held his other hand and brought his palm to my lips and kissed it. “We’re only just married, Gary. We should wait.”

  The front door flew open, followed by a slam and the running of small feet. Johnny stood in the threshold, a bundle of energy and tousled hair. “Come on! We’re gonna miss the movie!”

  Gary shook his head. “Sorry, bud. I’m not feeling great. Would you mind going with just your aunt Aimee? She can be your date.”

  Johnny’s brilliant blue eyes brightened. “Okay. But you get to take me again another time.”

  “Sure, bud. Maybe next weekend.”

  “Will you be all right, Gary? Do you want me to drop you off at home first?”

  He waved me away. “I just need to rest—I’ll be fine.”

  I kissed him gently, his eyes already closing. Then I stood and held out my hand to Johnny. “Come on, handsome. Let’s go.”

  Wes pulled into the driveway behind my car as we stepped out of the house.

  “Daddy!” Johnny ran to his father, arms outstretched, and was caught and lifted high in the air.

  Wes rumpled Johnny’s hair. “How’s my favorite guy?”

  “I’m taking Aunt Aimee on a date to see 101 Dalmatians. Wanna come?”

  Wes glanced at me and I shrugged. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”

  He looked confused for a moment, then said, “Why should I mind? There’s no reason why you and I can’t take my son to a movie.”

  “Right,” I said, looking at everything except his face. “No reason at all.” I thought of Gary asleep on the couch, and wondered if he’d mind. “We’d better hurry if we don’t want to miss the beginning. I know how you men are if you do—you’re totally lost for the rest of the film.”

  Both Wes and Johnny gave me identical smirks, making me laugh.

  Wes walked toward his car. “We’ll take mine, since I’m parked behind you.”

  Without complaint, Johnny hopped into the backseat. I slid into the front passenger seat, feeling like an impostor sitting in Lacy’s seat, stealing a few hours of her family.

  As we drove, Wes glanced over at me. “Marriage suits you, Aimee. You’re practically glowing.”

  I felt the telltale heat on my face. “Thanks. Gary and I are very happy.”

  He was silent for a moment, but I didn’t look up. “I’m glad for both of you.”

  We rode the rest of the way in silence peppered only with the occasional question from the backseat.

  We sat in the front row at the movie theater, the large box of popcorn on Johnny’s lap in the middle. Once, Wes and I reached inside the box at the same time, and our hands touched. I jerked back as if I had been stung. I spent the rest of the movie sitting on my hands to make sure it didn’t happen again.

  Afterward, we took Johnny out for hamburgers and a chocolate malt. He kept up a constant chatter, full of questions and commentary, so Wes and I didn’t have to make conversation. I was in midbite of my cheeseburger when Johnny asked, “How does a baby get in a mommy’s tummy? Donna Peacock’s mommy’s going to have a baby and she said that God put the baby in there, but I can’t see how.”

  Wes coughed and I nearly choked on my food. We looked at each other, then at Johnny. “Ask your mother,” we said simultaneously, and then had to stifle our laughter. At that moment, Johnny spilled his chocolate malt all over himself, the floor, and me, fortunately offering us a respite from answering the question.

  I waited outside the restaurant on Napoleon Avenue while Wes took Johnny to the restroom to try to clean the little boy off as much as possible. It was one of those perfect spring days that New Orleans doles out sparingly, with cerulean blue skies and almost no humidity. My hair stayed in soft waves around my shoulders instead of kinking up in tight curls; my skin was soft instead of moist. I felt almost glamorous. I sat down on a bench facing the wide median and the streetcar tracks for the old Napoleon Avenue line that had stopped running nearly ten years before.

  “Miss Aimee?”

  I swung around, my breath hovering in my mouth. Xavier stood in the alley beside the restaurant behind me, his eye a lonely point of light in his dark face.

  He stepped back farther in the shadows when he heard my gasp. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I stood and walked closer to him. “I know that. You just shocked me, that’s all.”

  His eye darted around nervously. “I saw you with that little boy, Johnny. And Wes. Where’s Gary?”

  “He wasn’t feeling well, so he stayed home.”

  “My mama says he doesn’t have much longer.”

  A fly landed on my forearm, and I swatted it away. “Don’t say that, Xavier. Your mother isn’t a doctor.”

  Several passersby paused to stare at me talking with a black man, then ambled on. “I’m taking care of you, Miss Aimee. You don’t need to be scared of the dark anymore. I’m watching out for you.”

  I moved closer. “Have you been following me, Xavier?”

  “You need to be careful. You don’t always know what some people will do to keep a secret.”

  “What secret?”

  “Mr. Guidry . . .” he began but then stepped back as a boisterous throng of young people emerged from around the corner on Dryades Street, the leader carrying a football that he’d occasionally toss into the crowd and then catch as it was tossed back to him. After they passed I looked back at the alley, but Xavier was gone.

  I searched for him in every direction, calling his name, but he was nowhere to be found.

  Johnny and Wes emerged from the restaurant, and I smiled at them, feeling the prick of gooseflesh on the back of my neck as we walked toward the car, sensing Xavier’s gaze on me and wondering how he’d known that I was afraid of the dark.

  The chirping of a cricket awoke me. I turned to Gary but felt only cold, empty sheets. I sat up with a start, seeing a shadowy silhouette by the window. I relaxed when the shadow turned toward me, and my night-light illuminated Gary’s face.

  I slid out of bed and joined him on the window seat. The cricket sang nearby, its lonely call unanswered. I reached for Gary’s hand, entwining my fingers with his. His were stiff and unforgiving, but I didn’t remove my hand. He’d barely spoken to me after my return from the movies with Wes and Johnny.

  Gary’s eyes glittered in the reflection of the moonlight. “Ray Von says a cricket in the house is bad luck.”

  “Ray Von says a lot of odd things. I don’t pay any attention to her.”

  “Maybe you should.” He turned back to the window.

  I slid closer to him on the seat, repositioning myself to rest my back against his chest. “I saw Xavier yesterday. Outside the restaurant—Wes and Johnny didn’t see him. He said that he was watching out for me.”

  “Maybe he has a crush on you. It doesn’t seem too uncommon.”

  Ignoring his jibe, I said, “Lieutenant Houlihan has been looking for him, but I’m not sure if I should let him know that Xav
ier is here. He’s hiding for a reason, but I can’t help him, because he won’t tell me anything. He said your father’s name, but then he disappeared before he could tell me more.”

  Gary shrugged. “Wes and my father don’t tell me anything. Except that Wes thinks Xavier is dangerous. Maybe you should tell the lieutenant that you saw him.”

  I closed my eyes, listening to the cricket sing, the strident notes drifting in the dark night. I changed the subject, not wanting to argue. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

  He shifted behind me. “I couldn’t sleep. Thinking too hard, I guess.”

  I snuggled close to him. “Thinking about what?”

  His voice was close to my ear, low and deep. “About how I wish you would light up when you look at me the way you do when you look at Wes.”

  The plaintive cry of the cricket came closer this time, almost to the window seat.

  “That isn’t true.” I reached behind me and touched his cheek, feeling the prickly stubble of his beard. “Please let it go. I can’t move on if you keep dragging me back into the past.”

  He turned his head into my palm and kissed it, his lips warm and wet. He didn’t say anything, but faced the window again with a deep sigh.

  I stood and held my hand out to him. “Come to bed with me.”

  He looked up, his eyes hidden in dark pools of shadow. In a fluid motion, he stood and pulled me down with him onto the floor. His caresses were rough and tender at the same time, bruising and arousing. I felt his love for me, and it touched my soul and erased all thoughts of Wes from me for another night. I fell asleep in Gary’s arms, listening to the cricket’s solitary call as the black night faded into purple morning.

  CHAPTER 24

  A storm surge is a large dome of water, often 50 to 100 miles wide, that sweeps across the coastline near where a hurricane makes landfall.

  —NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE

  Julie

  I dreamed I sat on the porch at River Song, the way it had once been before the storm had come and taken it away, leaving behind only memories and a scarred oak tree. I looked beside me and saw my sister, Chelsea, and she smiled back at me. She was the nine-year-old girl I had known, but her eyes were older and wiser, and when I looked closely, I realized they were Monica’s eyes.