by Harper Lin
“I didn’t see no one, Beck. I just saw you carrying on a conversation with the fence,” Teddy replied.
“But I’m not fibbin’,” Becky insisted. She looked around. “He said his name was Mr. Wilcox. He said he hadn’t seen a young ’un in a long time and that he was sure he’d never see Spanish moss again.”
Teddy walked up to Becky’s side. He looked closer at the broken bits of fence and wrapped his hands around the rusty bars and peeked over to the other side. Remnants of tombstones that had been broken and worn from years of exposure dotted the ground.
“Hey, Beck. Look at this.” Teddy pointed through the bar to a tombstone just a few feet out of reach. “Am I reading that right?”
“I don’t know. What’s it say?”
“That looks like it says Robert Albert Wilcox.” He kept pointing. “Right there.”
Becky pressed her face against the bars, feeling the grit and dirt against her cheeks. She strained to see where Teddy was pointing.
“Well, I’ll be. That sure does say Robert Albert Wilcox. What do you think it means?” Becky looked at Teddy.
“I don’t know. Maybe you were talkin’ to his ghost,” Teddy said as if he were offering her a slice of apple pie. Over the years, as Becky became more and more aware of her unusual talent, Teddy never seemed to bat an eye.
“Why doesn’t it bother me?” he had replied when she asked him this question at the age of twelve. “First, if it doesn’t bother you, it shouldn’t bother me. Second…” He laid his head playfully on her shoulder. “It’s one of the many things that make you unique to everyone else I know. What good would it do me to tell everyone that you see spirits? They’d be convinced I turned to backwoods moonshine, and I’d be shipped off to the drunk tank for sure. No. I think your communications with those who have passed on is a secret best kept between friends.”
Around a clump of trees, Becky saw a shack with strings of multicolored lights dangling from the drooping roof to a tall pole.
“We’re here,” Teddy said.
“This is it? It’s nothing more than an oversized shanty.” Becky sat straight in her seat. “I love it!”
The music that poured from the building came from a swinging live band. Voices of men laughing and women whooping could also be heard. The smell of cigarette smoke and gasoline overpowered the scent of the creek and the tall reeds that grew along the edge of the water. Other cars were parked at odd angles around the place, and a few bicycles lay lazily on the grass.
Teddy hopped out of the car and quickly got the door for Becky. After he offered her his elbow, the pair walked briskly to the entrance. A woman with smoky eyes and bright-red lips smiled as she ushered them in. The place was hot with bodies crammed tightly together, talking, dancing, or enjoying activities that required even closer contact.
“Becky! Over here!”
Becky’s ears perked up at the sound of her own name. It didn’t take but a second for her to see her dear friend Martha Bourdeaux waving her arms, kneeling on a chair at a small table surrounded by at least six people.
“Come, Teddy. Our adoring fans await.”
“You go on, Becky. I’m going to get us a couple of drinks. Anything special I can get you?”
“Whatever is wettest,” Becky replied with a shrug, kicking her heel up. She bustled over to Martha, who hopped out of her chair to give her friend a hug.
“What took you so long? I was afraid you weren’t coming.” Martha huffed, taking Becky by the hand and pulling her toward an empty space where they could talk.
“Are you kidding? Why, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Becky squeezed her friend’s hand. “That’s some band. Just those four fellows are making that music. Isn’t it amazing? It sounds like Count Basie’s got the whole gang here.”
“I heard you left a poor gentleman caller waiting with bated breath at your doorstep. That Heathcliff boy was just heartbroken.” Martha poked her friend in the shoulder.
“You heard about that already too? Teddy knew all about it as well.” She jerked her chin in Teddy’s direction as he approached holding a glass in each hand.
“A gin rickey for the lady. And how are you, darlin’?” Teddy leaned in to give Martha a peck on the cheek.
“I’m just fine, Teddy. I was asking our mutual friend here what happened with the Heathcliff boy. She was just about to tell me the gory details.”
“I just plumb forgot. It isn’t like the Heathcliff boy has that many qualities worth remembering.” Becky took a sip of her drink. “I don’t mean to talk so petty about the boy. It isn’t his fault his mama hangs over him. But surely Mrs. Heathcliff has got to know we’ve nothing in common.”
“You have plenty in common to a woman like Mrs. Heathcliff. You have lineage and land.” Martha shook her head. “Nothing else matters.”
“Well, it does to me.” Becky took another sip. “Mama was dreadful angry with me too. She wasn’t going to let her daughter make her the pariah of Savannah. I sent Teeter with a handwritten invitation for the Heathcliff boy to come calling tomorrow.”
Again, Becky mushed her lips together as if she were being offered her least favorite food, liver.
“Well, bless your heart.” Martha laughed. “You are a good daughter. The Heathcliff boy probably won’t be able to sleep a wink tonight.”
“Hey, I’ve a stellar idea. Why don’t you and Teddy drop by? I’ll pretend it’s a big coincidence. Lucretia is making cream cheese pound cake and sweet tea. It’ll be delightful. Plus, it would take some of the pressure off that poor Heathcliff boy. Lord only knows what nervousness does to his stomach and lower intestines. You’d be saving the man a heap of embarrassment.”
“She is a smooth talker, isn’t she?” Teddy nudged Martha.
“She sure is. I don’t know, Teddy. She needs to learn her manners.” Martha clicked her tongue before slipping her arm through Teddy’s. “I think we’d better discuss it on the dance floor.”
“You’re going to leave me alone?” Becky pouted her red lips and put her hands on her hips.
“Oh, Becky, you won’t be alone for long.” Martha nodded, gave her best friend a wink, and hurried off, pulling Teddy along with her.
Becky took a sip of her Gin Rickey before turning around, and she was glad she did. She saw Adam White heading right for her. And there was no scary recluse leering at her. At least not that she could readily see.
Chapter Four
After a few pleasantries, Adam whisked Becky out onto the dance floor. She felt as if she could have stayed on her feet with him until the sun came up. But when the band took a break, Adam took Becky by the hand.
“How about a little fresh air?” he asked. Becky nodded and looked at Martha, who was smoking a cigarette while watching. She winked at Becky then went back to the lively conversation at the tiny table.
Even though the night was warm, it felt downright chilly after emerging from the crowded shack. A shiver ran across Becky’s shoulders, and she shuddered involuntarily.
“Are you cold? I can get my jacket from my car. It smells like ink, but it’s pretty clean.” His smile took all the sense out of Becky’s head.
“No. Thank you,” she gushed, still holding his hand. “The cool air feels good.”
They walked a little farther in the direction of the creek and the shadows of the trees, when Adam stopped.
“I’m glad I saw you here tonight,” he said, looking up at the dark sky. “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
“Oh? What is that?”
“I wanted to ask you if I might come ca—”
“Becky! Becky!” exclaimed Martha, charging out of the shanty. “We need you! Teddy’s taken a turn!”
“What?” Becky asked with clenched teeth.
“I told him to slow down, but you know how he can get sometimes.” Martha shook her head.
“No one can handle this? It has to be me?” Becky looked up at Adam with the biggest I’m so sorry in her eyes as she s
tomped toward Martha.
“I’m so sorry,” Martha whispered then looked up at Adam and gave him a pleasant hello that he returned in kind.
When they were back in the juke joint, Teddy was in a chair, leaning against a wall and drenched in sweat with his eyes closed.
“Looks like it’s time to go home,” Becky muttered. “Can you kind gentlemen help me get my friend in the car?”
“I’ll help you,” Adam offered immediately. With one yank of Teddy’s arm, he was over Adam’s broad shoulder, being carried out like a sack of potatoes. Becky felt her knees turn rubbery as she saw Adam’s biceps bulge. He carried Teddy like he was as light as a newborn baby. Once he had Teddy safely in the passenger seat, Adam turned to Becky.
“Oh, I can’t thank you enough, Adam. And I had a wonderful time.” She blinked her long brown lashes and smiled. “You’re a very good dancer. Uh, what was it that you wanted to ask me?”
“It was nothing important,” Adam said as he stood dangerously close to Becky, looking straight down his chest at her. “It can wait.”
“But I don’t know when I’ll be out again. I mean, my family has all but booked my summer, and well, if there was something important you wanted to tell me, now might be the perfect time.” Becky nervously fidgeted with the beads on her clutch.
“Well, it’s a rather strange custom to someone like me, coming from up north, but I was hoping I could come and…”
“Becky? Can you take me home?” Martha appeared out of nowhere. “Without you and Teddy, the night is basically over. May as well go home and count sheep.”
Becky sighed and looked down at the ground. “Of course I can take you,” she muttered.
“Thank goodness,” Martha said as she climbed into the rumble seat. “Oh, this fresh air feels good. I’ll never get the smell of cigarettes and gin rickeys out of my dress.”
“I better be going, Adam,” Becky said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Savannah ain’t that big a city.” When Adam winked at Becky, she had to hold herself up with the open car door. Adam backed away, waving and smiling before disappearing inside the shanty.
“He is a really good-lookin’ fella.” Martha clicked her tongue. “For a Yankee.”
“Martha, you couldn’t have waited just five minutes to come get me? All I needed was five minutes. I’m sure he was going to ask to come calling on me.”
“Why doesn’t he just come calling?” Martha asked, tilting her head as Becky started the engine and put the car in gear.
“Have you forgotten Judge and Kitty? How would it be with a Yankee arriving at my door unannounced?” Becky shook her head. “No. My parents would need to be informed about Adam if he were to get a fair shake. And even then, I don’t know if he would.”
“Do you like him that much?” Martha asked.
“I don’t know what it is about him. He makes me laugh, and he dances really well. But tell me, Martha, and be honest.”
“Yes, he is Douglas Fairbanks and Rudolph Valentino rolled into one.” Martha bit her lower lip. “I’m just being honest.”
“That isn’t what I was going to ask. Oh, I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m so disoriented. I’m like a child lost at the zoo.” Becky frowned as she looked at Teddy, who stirred slightly and then fell back asleep even as the car jostled him around.
After only having to backtrack twice along the dirt road, Becky found the gravel path that led to the main road and headed in the direction of Pooler, which was just on the outskirts of Savannah.
“Boy, it is a nice night.” Martha tilted her head back, letting the wind tousle her brown hair. “It feels like we haven’t been out together in ages.”
“What are you talking about?” Becky chuckled. “We’ve seen each other at least once a week for the past two months.”
“Yes, but we go out, and we find our fellas and dance the night away and have so little time together. I think we need a good old-fashioned party.” Martha’s eyes popped as she leaned her head in between the two front seats.
“Oh, really? Could it be because someone’s birthday is quickly approaching that the idea of a party is being suggested? I was born at night but not last night, Martha Olivia-May Bourdeaux,” Becky said as she shifted gears.
“It’ll be divine. We’ll have a barbeque, and we’ll move the furniture in the parlor for dancing. I’ll invite everyone, and if you want to cause some scandal, I’ll even invite your Mr. White.” Martha batted her eyes. “He’s a Yankee? Why, he was so chivalrous I would have never guessed it. Do I sound convincing? We’ll just pretend we didn’t know he was from the sinful dens of the North.”
Becky laughed. “I think everyone in Savannah knows Adam White is a Yankee. No, that will get your party shut down faster than a goose on a June bug. Besides, I’ve only conversed with him on a handful of occasions. It’s hardly an engagement.”
The trio drove the rest of the way to Pooler with Martha doing most of the talking as she planned her upcoming birthday party.
“And charades! I love playing charades. We can set up a card table for penny poker. This was your best idea ever, Becky,” Martha said as Becky drove the car up the cobblestone drive that lead to the Bourdeaux Estate.
Unlike the Mackenzie plantation with its traditional white paint, wraparound porches on the first and second floors, and grand stoic pillars, the Bourdeaux Estate was a brick building that Becky always thought resembled a courthouse more than a home. But as she pulled up, a flood of wonderful memories of parties and barbeques and stories and secrets she had shared with Martha filled her head.
“In addition to me, who else will you be inviting to this grand event? Teddy should be on the mend by that time.” She tickled her friend under the chin. His response was to grunt and slap her hand away without opening his eyes.
“We have to invite the Hershes and the McGowans, and I’m sure Cecil and June would be back from their trip.” Martha pouted her lips, and her right eyebrow arched.
“What?” Becky asked suspiciously.
“I’ll have to invite Fanny Doshoffer.”
“Oh, why?”
“Now, I know your cousin is a hard pill to swallow, but—”
“Hard pill? She’s arsenic,” Becky argued. “That girl lives to aggravate me. Every single thing I do she’s either already done or will be doing a thousand times better than me. I can’t stand her.”
“I know. But her mama and my mama are the dearest of friends. They have been since their families fought side by side in the Great War.” Becky put her hand to her chest for dramatic effect.
“They were not in the Great World War together at all,” Becky whined.
“I’m talking about the Civil War. What other war is there to a Southerner? Besides, she does often imbibe too much ambrosia. I find out all the juicy gossip about the people around town. Relations as well as strangers,” Martha said as the car came to a stop.
“Lord only knows what that girl says about me,” Becky replied, angrily jiggling the gearshift and yanking up the parking brake.
“Why, darlin’, you know she does that only because she’s jealous of you.”
“Martha, you sound like my mother.”
“Becky, in this instance she’s right. Now, you go on and get this fox-trotting travesty home and then go buy yourself a new dress. I’ll have the invitations in the mail by morning.”
Martha hopped out of the rumble seat and gave Becky a tight hug and Teddy a peck on the cheek that he brushed away like a pesky fly. She kicked up her heels as she hurried up the steps to her house.
As Becky drove, her companion in the passenger seat at the moment was worthless in the art of conversation. So, without a second thought, she took a more scenic route back home that brought her past the official entrance of the Old Brick Cemetery.
With the moon showing half its face, there was just enough light for her to see by after she shut off the lights on the car. Before crossing the threshold of the boneyard, she listened. T
eddy was snoring contentedly. The crickets chirped up a symphony. A barn owl screeched off in the distance. But other than that everything seemed to be asleep.
With her clutch under her arm and the pretty lace shawl she’d brought with her, Becky walked into the dark cemetery. The headstones stretched up from the dark shadows like crooked teeth. The oak trees that had grown to massive heights over decades reached high over her head as if they were trying to touch the stars.
Normal people would never visit the graveyard at this witching hour. Becky never once thought herself a witch. But she was looking to talk to someone.
Her heels made a clonk, clonk, clonk sound on the brick walkway that branched out in all directions. After making her way deeper into the heart of the cemetery, Becky found a long, flat above-ground tomb, on which she sat. The tomb was old and chipped around the corners, but the rest of it remained beautifully intact. It was too dark to read the name, but as Becky ran her hand over the letters, she felt a cool draft rush across her shoulder blades. When she turned her head to the right, she saw an older woman standing there.
“Good evening,” Becky said with a smile. “Are you enjoying the night air?”
“I am,” the woman replied. She wore a simple housedress like Becky had seen in family photos of her relatives who passed away long ago. “I’ve come to enjoy my strolls at this hour. So many interesting people out and about, like yourself.”
She smiled pleasantly as she took a seat next to Becky. They chatted for a few moments until the woman abruptly stood up.
“Is everything all right?” Becky asked calmly. The behavior of spirits was sometimes unpredictable. But up to this point, Becky had never worried about her own safety.
“Someone is watching,” the woman said in a whisper.
“Someone…like you or someone like me?” Becky looked around in the darkness. She had never been scared in the cemetery even at the stroke of midnight. But something was setting her short hairs up.
“Neither,” the woman replied before walking off into the darkness without making a sound.
