Lighthouse Cove (South Carolina Sunsets Book 7)

by Rachel Hanna

  Chapter 3

  Emma knelt in the middle of the flower bed, hunched over as she pulled out weed after weed. It was amazing any flowers were growing at all, but daffodils were hearty plants, apparently. When Henrietta had called to say that the flower beds needed to look perfect before they started giving tours, Emma realized just how much she’d taken on. Was it going to be worth it just to hide from her old life?

  Plus, she’d never been much of a gardener. Living in apartments for her whole adult life didn’t lend itself well to getting in the dirt. Her job had been far too demanding to worry about planting flowers. Most of the time, she was working overnight hours and wouldn’t see the fruits of her labor if she had planted a garden.

  As she stood over the plant bed, catching her breath, she felt a small sense of accomplishment when she looked at the pile of weeds she’d pulled. Each one represented a cleaning out of sorts, although she wasn’t prone to deep metaphorical thoughts.

  “Well, hello there, new neighbor!”

  Emma turned to see three women standing there. The one who spoke was older, and she was carrying a large glass cake plate with something inside. The other two women, one with shoulder length straight hair and the other with a huge head of curly hair, stood there like they were embarrassed.

  “Hi,” Emma said. She felt a bit like the new kid at school.

  “Sorry if we scared you,” the straight haired woman said. She figured she should learn their names.

  “Oh, it’s fine. I was just working on this flower bed. I’m Emma,” she said, reaching out her hand.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m SuAnn, and these are my daughters, Julie and Janine.”

  After all of the handshakes, Emma stepped back and forced a smile. An awkward silence hung in the air for a long moment before SuAnn took over again. She was a forceful one, that was for sure.

  “I own the bakery in town, so I brought you one of my famous pound cakes as a welcome to the island.” SuAnn handed her the domed cake plate.

  “Thank you. It’ll take me awhile to finish it.” The cake was huge, and Emma was never going to be able to finish it, but she appreciated the effort anyway.

  “Well, we’re already here. What do you say we come in and have a piece together? We’d love to get to know you!”

  Oh dear God. She wanted to come inside? The cottage was a wreck, and she wasn’t really up for company right now.

  “Mom, let’s not intrude,” Janine said, elbowing her mother.

  “No, it’s fine. Really. But I have to warn you that I’m still unpacking, so the house is a bit of a mess,” Emma said, wishing she was brave enough to tell this woman no.

  “Oh, we totally understand!” SuAnn said, smiling expectantly.

  Emma turned and walked toward the front door, the three women trailing behind her. Gosh, she hoped her underwear wasn’t on the top of her laundry pile in the living room.

  As they walked inside, she hurried over to the living room and cleared the sofas. “Please, have a seat. I’ll get us some plates.”

  SuAnn nodded as they all sat down on the sofa. Emma dug through the cabinets in the kitchen, trying to remember where the plates were. She still hadn’t gotten the hang of the place yet. Finally, she found some small salad plates. She quickly cut four pieces of the moist poundcake and put them on the plates, grabbing some plastic forks she’d bought before returning to the living room.

  “Sorry about the plastic ware. The kitchen wasn’t exactly stocked when I got here. I just haven’t had time to go shopping yet.”

  “I’ll bet. It must be a huge undertaking to get this place ready for visitors,” Julie said, smiling. She seemed nice. Her mother, on the other hand, seemed a bit… much. But she made a great poundcake.

  “We start doing tours next week, so I’m in a bit of a time crunch.”

  “Hen was certainly behind the eight ball with this one,” SuAnn said, shaking her head.

  “Hen?”

  “Henrietta. You’ve met her, right?”

  “Oh, yes. I didn’t know anyone called her Hen.”

  “Nobody but me,” SuAnn said, smiling proudly. “But I can get away with it since we’re best friends.”

  Noted. Don’t say anything bad about Hen around SuAnn.

  “Is there anything we can do to help you, Emma?” Janine asked.

  Emma smiled. “Thank you, but I’ve got it under control even if it doesn’t look that way. Where do you ladies live?”

  “I have an apartment in town,” SuAnn interjected before taking a bite of her cake.

  “We live here on the island,” Julie said. “My husband and I run The Inn At Seagrove, and I’m also part owner at the bookstore. Janine lives in my old cottage.”

  “I run the yoga studio in town,” Janine said.

  “Wow. Very accomplished women,” Emma said.

  “We believe in strong women around here,” SuAnn said, setting her empty plate on the table.

  “Sorry I didn’t have any coffee,” Emma said, suddenly feeling like a terrible host.

  “No problem. We invited ourselves at a very inopportune time,” Julie said, standing up. “And we aren’t going to keep you from what you need to do anymore.” Janine stood too, but SuAnn wasn’t budging until Julie walked over and pulled on her arm. “Besides, I need to get to work and Janine has classes to teach. Come on, Mom.”

  “Already? We didn’t get a very long visit. I wanted to know more about you, Emma.”

  Emma wasn’t ready to share much about herself, especially her recent past. She was thankful that Julie was practically dragging her mother out of the cottage.

  “She has work to do, Mom. Let’s leave her to it.”

  SuAnn finally stood and walked toward the door. “We’ll be sure to come back and take the tour next week, so we’ll get plenty of time to chat then.”

  Janine rolled her eyes. “Let’s not threaten her, Mom.”

  Emma loved the back-and-forth relationship that these grown daughters seemed to have with their mother. She wished that she’d had that, even though she could tell there was some frustration and old baggage there. Her mother had never really been motherly, and her grandma had belonged in a mental ward or possibly prison. Definitely not the stuff funny sitcoms are made of.

  She said her goodbyes to the women, thankful that she didn’t have to reveal much about herself during the short visit. As she watched them walk away and disappear into the mossy trees, she wondered if she’d be able to keep her cover for very long, or would someone recognize her and reveal who she really was.

  Dixie stood at the end of the dock and waited for her son’s boat to come back. He’d taken a small group of businessmen on a tour of the marsh, but he said he’d be back in time to meet her for lunch. It was long overdue, and she was looking forward to it.

  Of course, she had an ulterior motive, as mothers often did. It was hard for her to see her son making what she thought was a mistake, and she was going to try to say something about it. Whether he appreciated her uninvited input was another question altogether.

  She didn’t like to think of herself as a meddler, but as she’d gotten older, she’d come to accept that part of herself. Aging had given her the ability to say what she wanted and just be considered an old woman with no filter between her mouth and brain.

  Sometimes, it was refreshing that no one seemed to expect as much from her anymore. Even though she knew she could contribute just as much to society as anyone else, the unfortunate side effect of aging was that people thought you were all washed up at a certain age. It wasn’t true, but she tried to use that stereotype to her advantage when she could.

  Finally, she saw William’s boat appear around the last turn of the marsh before his dock. She smiled and waved, and he gave her the same look he did when she showed up at school to pick him up - like she was embarrassing the heck out of him.

  The three businessmen stepped out of the boat, thanked William and said hello to Dixie before walking down the path. “Hey, M
om,” he said, leaning in and kissing her cheek. “Been waiting long?”

  “Nah, not too bad. Thankful I sprayed myself for mosquitos before I came, though.”

  “Yeah, you know how marsh life is. And the no-see-ums are terrible today.”

  Many tourists were unprepared for the little annoying and painful flying insects, but locals knew them all too well. They were also known as biting midges, and they would swarm a person without them even realizing it. So tiny that they were almost impossible to see, the person would be left with numerous painful bites. When William was a kid, he called them “flying pirahna”, and that description seemed to fit quite well.

  “Ready for something to eat? I’m starving!”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been going full-force all day. Had a fishing charter early this morning, but Janine made me breakfast to-go. My stomach is empty now. Where should we eat?”

  Dixie smiled. “Well, I actually made us lunch. I thought maybe we could take a little boat trip?”

  William stared at her. “Mom, I’ve been in that boat all day.”

  “I haven’t.” Mother guilt was always effective. Truthfully, she wanted this conversation to be as private as possible, but she also wanted to finally take a ride on her son’s boat.

  He sighed and hung his head. “Fine. But what did you make?”

  “Chicken salad sandwiches on croissants.”

  “With pecans or without?”

  She furrowed her eyebrows. “With, of course. What kind of woman do you take me for?”

  William laughed. “Good. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t cutting corners.”

  “Never!”

  He helped her onto the boat as she held onto his hand for dear life. She wasn’t as spry as she used to be, and having Parkinson’s had only slowed her down more. Thankfully, the medications and physical therapy helped her preserve what she had, and she tried to exercise at least three days a week since it was supposed to be the most effective treatment for the disease.

  Once they got settled, William eased the boat out into the marsh, picking a pretty area with a view of open water. Dixie loved where she lived. There was so much beauty surrounding her from the grasses of the marsh to the waves of the ocean to the historical buildings lining the streets of town. She could never imagine living anywhere else.

  Dixie dug the food out of her large bag and handed William his food. They sat for a few moments, each of them taking a bite of their croissant and looking out at the water. It was getting hotter outside with each passing day, and Dixie didn’t relish the humidity that was coming once the summer months arrived. Most days, she tried to stay inside in the air conditioning when summer rolled around. Plus, there were a lot more tourists milling about, so when she wasn’t at work, she wanted to be in her cool home.

  William placed his sandwich in his lap, wiped his mouth and looked at his mother. “Okay, out with it, Mom.”

  “What?” Dixie said, a mouthful of chicken salad blocking her from saying much else. She widened her eyes so much that she could feel her eyebrows raise an ungodly amount. Surely, he wasn’t buying her fake innocent look.

  “I know you brought me out here to talk about something. What is it?”

  She wiped her mouth. “Darlin’, I came to eat lunch with my only son and finally take a ride in his boat. Why do you always assume the worst about me? It’s very hurtful, William.”

  He chuckled. “I see why you flunked high school theater.”

  “That was because Mrs. Calhoun hated me. She was jealous of my hair. I’ll believe that ’til the day I die.”

  “Mom.” His firm tone let Dixie know she was treading on thin ice. And after all the years they didn’t speak, she wasn’t willing to risk upsetting him like that again. Honesty was the best policy in this situation.

  “Okay, fine. Maybe I did want to talk to you about something, but I also came to see you and ride in your boat.”

  “Spit it out, Mom.”

  “Well, son, it’s just that I’m worried about you… and Janine.”

  He looked at her, confusion on his face. “What about me and Janine? Things are going great with us.”

  “Are you sure, honey? I mean, are you certain that Janine feels that way?”

  He put his food on the seat beside him and leaned forward. “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s just that women… well, some women… especially of a certain age… well, they want things… and men don’t always see it for what it is…”

  “Have you taken your medication today?”

  “What?”

  “You’re stammering like you can’t get your words out.”

  She sighed and threw her hands in the air. “Janine wants to get married! Okay? I said it. And it wasn’t my place to say it!”

  “Then why are you saying it?”

  “Because you weren’t getting any of my hints!”

  They both stopped and took a deep breath. “Who told you that? Janine?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then who?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it matters. I need to know if it was a reputable source.”

  Dixie nodded her head. “Oh, honey, it was a very reputable source.”

  “Mom, tell me.”

  She hung her head. “It was Julie.”

  “Julie told you that Janine wants to get married?”

  “No. She told Dawson. I just overheard the conversation. She thought I’d left the shop, and she was chatting with Dawson on the phone.”

  “So you were eavesdropping.”

  “Not on purpose.”

  “Did you tell her you overheard the conversation?”

  Dixie shook her head. “Didn’t seem necessary. Look, I’m not SuAnn. I don’t go around gossiping, but this seemed important enough to tell you.”

  He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean, we’ve talked about marriage a few times, but things have just been going so well that it didn’t occur to me that there was a rush or anything.”

  “Sweetie, what’re you waiting for? I mean, far be it for me to say, but y’all aren’t getting any younger.”

  “Thanks a lot, Mom,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “William, I just want to see you happy. Life is a lot shorter than you think.” Her life with Johnny, her late husband, had been so much shorter than either of them ever thought it would be.

  “I love Janine. I guess I was just trying to make something of myself again before I asked her. I want to feel worthy of being her husband.” Dixie’s heart melted when she heard her son say that.

  She leaned over and touched his arm, being careful not to stand up in the unstable boat. Parkinson’s didn’t exactly give her wonderful balance. The last thing she needed was to fall head first into the marsh and get eaten by some creature lurking below.

  “Now, listen to your old momma,” she said, putting her hand on his cheek. “You’re worthy of any woman. Janine would be blessed to have you as a husband, and you would be blessed to have her as a wife. Stop overthinking things, my handsome son. Love isn’t something to be thought about; it’s something to be felt and cherished.”

  William smiled. “You should write greeting cards, Mom.”

  “Maybe in my next lifetime,” she joked as she eased herself back down onto the small seat. “So, what’re you going to do?”

  He looked at her and then out over the water. “I don’t know. I need some time to think, I suppose.”

  “Just don’t think too long, William. Life just keeps moving on.”

  The darkness was overwhelming. She walked along the edge of the wall, her back brushing against it as she tried to look around the corner. But it was so dark. So devastatingly dark. She couldn't hear anything over the wild beating of her heart. It wasn't like she hadn't been in situations like this a million times before, but this one was different. She could feel it in her bones, like a dark foreboding that she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she
tried.

  Her palms were sweating. The hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention like diligent soldiers waiting on their next orders. Why did she have to be alone? She tried to quiet her breath, but it felt like her throat was constricting. What if she stopped breathing? Her heart was beating so hard and fast that she wondered if a heart could actually explode. She didn't want to find out.

  She inched closer and closer to the corner. Why was her hand shaking? She gripped the gun as tightly as possible, and she turned that corner, her arm straight up in front of her steadied by her left hand, ready to shoot. And then just as the monster lunged at her, she sat upright in her bed in a pool of sweat, her breath coming out in choked pants.

  This was the third time this week that Emma had woken up having a nightmare. She couldn't always remember much of it, but she definitely knew what it was about. PTSD was a real thing, but no matter how many times her friend, Caroline, tried to encourage her to seek counseling for it, she just couldn't. She couldn’t relive the story over and over sitting on some couch in some nondescript office. It was bad enough that it had taken up residence in her head, but uttering the words that were bathed in darkness and fear was just too much for her.

  The reality of what had happened just a few months ago was still so shocking to her that she couldn't think about it much during the day. She was able to push the feelings and memories aside during her waking hours, but in her dreams they took center stage. She relived the scenario over and over and over again. She often became trapped in her dream, and she was so thankful when her brain would wake her up in a panic because it meant she could escape the terror.

  As she did most nights, she got out of the bed, slipped on her robe and walked out onto the small deck on the back of the cottage. It faced the beach, and the sound of the ocean waves soothed her. Not enough, but a little. Each wave gave her a millisecond break, just enough to catch her breath before the memories would catch up with her yet again.