Grayton Winds

by Michael Lindley

  The Bidwell family drove over from Point Washington and joined us and Rebecca came up to me right away and asked about James Headley. I told her my friend was truly taken with her and she should expect the most outrageous signs of affection and devotion to arrive any day. I also noticed her older brother, Jonas, had taken a particular interest in Sara Dalton and had quickly moved over to sit next to her and start up a conversation. He had cleaned up for the evening and looked so much different than the sweaty and grimy carpenter who had been working around the house, his black hair slicked back and wearing clothes he probably reserved for the most important church Sundays. I looked at the two of them sitting there on a big wool blanket Sara had brought down. I didn’t know if I should acknowledge the feelings of father and protector, or friend.

  Everyone was having a good time sharing stories of weathering the storm and how the reconstruction had been going, although those sitting close to Sara were respectful of her loss. I was standing and talking with Eli and Priscilla Bidwell. They were asking question after question about my friend Jimmy Headley and his intentions regarding their daughter. I noticed another man walking down to the beach from town, someone I didn’t recognize. He walked forward tentatively, obviously not sure of where he was or whether he was welcome.

  The first person to react to his arrival was little Melanee Dalton. I looked over and she stood up on the blanket where she had been sitting next to her mother. She turned back toward town and looked on sightlessly at the approach of the stranger. The man was dressed in light colored suit pants with a vest over a starched white shirt rolled up at the sleeves. He was tall and gangly and walked with a clumsy stride. He kept looking across the crowd as he approached, obviously with someone in mind.

  Then Sara turned from her conversation with Jonas Bidwell when she noticed her daughter’s preoccupation. She looked around and when she spotted the man approaching I was purposely watching her face, trying to gage the reaction. She saw the man coming toward all of us and she tensed at first, and then her whole body seemed to sink into itself, but she kept staring at him. Finally, he saw what he was looking for and it was Sara Dalton. He altered course and walked straight toward her. Melanee was still looking off in his direction and as he walked by her she held up a hand to stop him and she brushed his arm. He looked down at her, but didn’t stop or acknowledge the little girl.

  I watched as Sara stood and as the man came up to her she reached out and welcomed him with a tentative embrace. I could still see her face and she was clearly struggling with her emotions. Melanee stood next to them, holding out her hands as if she was waiting to be noticed. Sara and the man knelt down in front of her and Sara said a few words before Melanee jumped into his arms. He lifted her up and twirled her around.

  I walked over to check on this interesting homecoming. Sara reached out and took my hand before she said, “Mathew, I want you to meet Melanee’s daddy, Bobby Sanborn.”

  I had excused myself early from the beach celebration after being introduced to the new arrival, Mr. Bobby Sanborn, taking enough time to slip away without being noticeably rude. Sitting back at the Headley’s place on the newly constructed porch, I thought about this Sanborn fellow. Lila Dalton told me some time ago he was Melanee’s father. He had been a drummer in the band Sara had traveled with earlier in her singing days. Ultimately, the two of them had not stayed together and Sara had unfortunately found her way down to New Orleans and eventually a life clouded by fear and drugs and alcohol with Miller Boudreaux. I knew very little more about Sanborn. Sara had rarely spoken of him. My first limited impression was he was a reasonable man and had truly missed both Sara and Melanee and that perhaps it would be best for the two of them to have him back in their lives. But then I found myself wondering about a man who could ever abandon them in the first place.

  I watched as people from the beach began making their way back up into town. Through the darkness, I saw the shapes of Melanee and Sara holding hands with Bobby Sanborn. They came up on the porch and noticed me sitting there. Sara said, “I told Bobby how much you’ve done to help us since the storm.”

  “Yes, thank you Coulter for taking care of my girls,” the man said. I felt like reminding him he had lost the right of possession by walking out on them. Sara took Melanee inside to go to bed. “Sara sent me a letter a couple of months ago she was back down here with Lila,” he said. “When I heard about the storm I knew I had to get down as soon as I could to check on them. Just a damn shame about Lila.”

  “Nice of you to make the effort,” I said, not trying very hard to mask my declining opinion of the man. “I’ll grab a blanket for you. The couch isn’t too bad.”

  In the morning, Jonas Bidwell was back for work and I asked him to wait a bit before starting in on the house to allow the girls to get some more sleep. I could tell Jonas was bothered by something and I asked him about it.

  “It’s this Sanborn fellow,” he answered. “Who the hell does he think he is just waltzing back in here after all these years?”

  I looked back at the house and all was quiet inside. When I had walked out, Sanborn was snoring on the couch. “Well, he is the little girl’s daddy and he has every right to make sure she’s safe,” I said with little conviction.

  “Shoulda thought of that years ago,” Jonas said.

  I looked at Jonas Bidwell in a different light that morning. In the past, I had seen him as a rough kid from a nowhere place and as Seth Howard’s best friend, I always had to question his true character. Getting to know him better recently working on the Headley cottage I found a sense of maturity and intelligence not evident in our previous encounters. He had much of the same curiosity and wonder about the world around us, beyond the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, as his younger sister Rebecca.

  “I noticed you and Sara were deep in conversation last night before Sanborn arrived,” I said.

  He looked away toward the beach with an embarrassed expression. “Guess it shouldn’t be a secret I think Ms. Dalton is a fine woman.” I was fairly certain this was coming. “I know she’s a little older,” he said, “but that doesn’t really matter.”

  “Sara’s dealing with a lot right now,” I said. “Don’t be surprised if she’s a little off kilter about things for a while longer.” He looked at me and nodded and I realized now Sara would have to deal with the attentions of two new men in her life, in addition to the loss and chaos of her recent past she was still trying to sort through.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Jonas and I began work up on the roof later that morning. We really needed to get the roofing repaired before any more rain came through the area. The noise and pounding finally woke Sara and Melanee who came out sleepy-eyed together around ten. Sanborn was apparently still sleeping. They both waved and then went around back to the outhouse. I noticed Jonas watched them all the way until they were out of sight.

  A half hour later, Sara came back out with a pot of coffee and we came down to take a break. She poured two cups for us and Jonas and I sat down across from her on the chairs set up out on the front yard. Melanee was up on the porch with crackers in her hand, hoping her bird friends might finally return. It had been some time since she had released the bird I had given her and it had flown off with Champ. There had been no sign of them since and Melanee was growing quite upset about it.

  Sara took a sip from her coffee and then said, “You all met Bobby last night?” Of course, she knew we had. When she saw us acknowledge the fact, she went on, “He was back in Nashville and when he heard about the storm…” She didn’t finish the thought and looked out over the dunes down toward the water. Her eyes were distant and sad and I felt so bad for the complications in her young life. She was such a talented woman with a beautiful daughter and yet so many issues to deal with. The sun was just coming up over the house and it caught her face and her hair in a beautiful light.

  “What are his plans?” I heard Jonas ask and I looked over at him. You could see the pain
ed expression on his face like he didn’t really want to hear the answer.

  Sara looked over at him and then shook her head. “I really don’t know, Jonas,” she said, and then smiled. I felt like I was intruding on this time between the two of them.

  I excused myself and poured some more coffee and then went up on the porch with Melanee. She was sitting in one of the chairs, listening for sounds from the birds, crackers spread along the rail. I sat down next to her. “They’ll be back, honey,” I said. “Who knows where birds travel on their little routes.”

  “I’m just very worried about them,” Melanee said. “Champ’s never been away this long.”

  “Who knows with that little rascal,” I said. “He may have ten more houses on his route before he decides to get back to us and he needs to show Maggie now, so maybe it’s taking longer.” I hoped this feeble attempt might possibly make her feel a little better.

  “Did you meet my daddy?” she asked.

  Before I could answer there was a scuffling noise behind us and Bobby Sanborn stuck his head out of the door. His eyes were closed against the light of the day and he was trying to push his hair back from his face.

  “Mornin, folks,” he said, and then seeing Sara down on the front yard, he walked down the steps without even saying anything to his daughter. I watched as he whispered something to Sara and she pointed off around the back of the house. He was obviously looking for the privy.

  When he came back he took her hand and they walked off down through the dunes. I looked over next to me at Melanee and while she couldn’t see, it was clear she knew what was happening because she looked off in the direction of their departure. It occurred to me the little girl must be wondering about another man coming to see her mother and usually that meant she would be leaving without her. I couldn’t imagine how a little child could deal with abandonment like this. I asked if she was hungry and she said she was starved so I took her inside and pulled together some breakfast. I heard Jonas back up on the roof a few minutes later. It seemed like he was pounding particularly hard.

  Sara and Bobby Sanborn must have been gone for over two hours. I had cleaned up the breakfast dishes and was reading to Melanee out on the porch when I saw them walking back through the dunes. Melanee sensed them coming and stood up and held her hand out for me to help her down the steps. The pounding up on the roof stopped as Jonas had obviously seen their return. We met them out by the road. Sara picked up her daughter and gave her a big hug, turning around in the mid-day sun. I exchanged looks with Bobby Sanborn. He smiled back at me with this assured air that puzzled me under the circumstances. Sara set Melanee down and held her hand as she kneeled in front of her.

  “Honey, your daddy’s gonna stay here in Grayton Beach with us and help us rebuild Grandma’s place,” Sara said, and then she looked up at me as her daughter hugged her fiercely around the neck. Sanborn knelt down next to them and put his arms around both of them. Sara kept looking at me. I wasn’t sure how to react or what to say. It was marvelous to see Melanee so happy with the fragments of what had been her splintered family starting to come back together, but I also had a hollow and sick feeling deep in my gut this was only a temporary reunion. The pounding began again up on the roof behind me. I looked back and saw that Jonas had gone over to the other side to keep working.

  The Elliot family, who had the first place on the way into town, had invited Sara and Melanee to stay in their guest cottage after the storm. It had been fairly protected and received minimal damage and now that Sanborn had arrived, Sara mentioned she thought it might be better if they all moved down there. I helped them later that day take what little belongings they had been able to salvage from the wreckage of the hotel down to the Elliot’s. As I was walking away, leaving the Dalton girls with Bobby Sanborn, Melanee yelled out, “Do you think Champ and Maggie will be able to find me down here?”

  Her sweet little voice nearly broke my heart and I felt a lump rise in my throat before I was able to say, “I’m sure they’re trying to find you.” Melanee waved as I walked away.

  On the way back to Headley’s cottage I was trying to convince myself this was the right thing and that Melanee and Sara needed the little girl’s father back in their lives. Hopefully he was a good man who would care for them. I told Sara earlier after her announcement of their plans for the hotel that I would still like to honor my offer of financial help in rebuilding the Beach Hotel. I also told her I had already ordered a new piano for her and Melanee through Bidwell’s store and it would be a gift for the new hotel. She gave me a warm and lingering hug and then walked away with a brief and teary-eyed thank you.

  When I got back to the cottage, Jonas and his truck were gone. I wondered if I’d see him back on the job after what I was sure was very disappointing news today about Sara’s intentions and plans. The old cottage was dark and quiet when I returned and I forced myself to sit down at the writing table and get myself back into the story.

  It was another month before the work on the Headley place was completed. Jonas had indeed come back that next day and had worked hard beside me in putting the cottage back together. His mood had been quiet and brooding, but he worked hard and we never mentioned the Dalton’s. I had gone over to the Bidwell’s to call Jimmy Headley up in Atlanta to let him know his family’s cottage was almost as good as new. He was extremely grateful and of course, wanted to speak with Rebecca when we finished with our conversation. He was planning to come down in the next couple of weeks to see her, as soon as he could get away.

  I bought a good bottle of whiskey from old man Bidwell’s private stock and started back to Grayton Beach. I drove by the Elliot’s place and there was no sign of anyone around. The guest cottage was around back and I could see Sanborn’s car parked beside it. At the Headley’s cottage, I walked up the steps and for some reason, looked over and noticed the crackers Melanee left several weeks ago for the birds that had fallen on the deck in dozens of broken pieces were now gone. I wondered if Champ and Maggie had indeed returned or maybe some other little scrounger happened across an easy meal.

  I walked down to the beach as the sun headed toward the far horizon. A dull gray reflection lay across the water that was calm in a light offshore hint of breeze. A heavy layer of clouds hung along the distant waterline. I had the bottle in one hand and a few of the recent pages from my book I had been working on in the other. When I reached the shore, I sat down in the soft white sand and pulled the top off the whiskey. I took a short drink and tried to read through the pages I brought along, but couldn’t seem to stay focused on the words. Out past the far sandbar two dolphins rolled lazily along, coming up and surfacing every few moments for another breath of air.

  I started thinking about my own prospects. I had also spoken to my sister and mother by phone when I was over at the Bidwell’s and they told me my father was continuing to improve some. They had heard nothing from Willie Palumbo and I convinced myself that was a good thing. Charles Watermann, my father’s old friend and partner had stopped by recently to reassure them Palumbo had moved quickly to assume control and that most things were progressing well. Watermann had smartly aligned himself with the old gangster. Self-preservation is a powerfully motivating thing. The O’Learys had been put in their place. There were a few skirmishes and hot spots of trouble, but for the most part, the business was falling into much of its old routine.

  I was thinking it had been a little over six months since I came down to this place in my flight from Atlanta. As I thought back over the sequence of events and calamities that had transpired, it was nearly inconceivable how much had happened, and how different I had come to feel about the world around me.

  By dark I had loaded my few belongings into my car and shut the old Headley place up for the last time. I hung the key on the nail back in the outhouse and drove out of town. A work crew had begun rebuilding the hotel and the first floor was fully framed. I had left money with Bidwell and set up an account to pay for the rest
of the repairs. I stopped at the Elliot’s to say goodbye to Sara and Melanee, but the car was gone and no one was around. I took some paper from my case and left a note.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  New York City, September 1927

  Just over a year after the big storm in Grayton Beach almost swept us all away, I was sitting in the lobby of the Plaza Hotel in New York, right there off Central Park South, sipping a cup of coffee and watching the well-dressed crowd drift through the elegant lobby. My editor had set up an appointment for me to interview an actress who was in town from the West Coast for the season. I had secured a job with the New York Times and after months working in obituaries and other even less exciting assignments, I had been assigned to the entertainment beat.

  My book was finally finished about six months after I arrived in New York. A few publishing houses had rejected the manuscript when I had been referred to another by an associate at the newspaper. The editor got excited about the story and I sold it soon after. I was told it would be released early the next year.

  That summer at the beach along the Gulf Coast of Florida seemed so long ago. I had been terribly busy and moving in so many directions I had little time to think back on how it all came to pass.

  I had an hour before my appointment with the actress. The front desk had just handed me a note she would be late. It appeared to be a beautiful morning in the city and I needed a break to get some fresh air in my system. Walking out through the main entrance doors I was greeted politely by the staff who must have thought I was a paying guest. I headed north up into the park. The horse-drawn carriages were already lining up to take tourists on excursions around the city. There was the earliest trace of fall in the air and in the changing colors of the leaves above me. As usual, people were moving about in careless disregard for other fellow pedestrians and traffic in the streets.