by Lori Avocato
Sweat began to form on my neck and I got up to turn the ceiling fan higher. Why wasn’t the air conditioning on? Spring in Charleston was definitely not too soon for a little A/C. Something was wrong, I could feel it. I looked up at the ceiling. There was no fan! In fact, there weren’t any lights either. Not in the ceiling, not on the bedside table. The room was illuminated merely by one lit candle that was almost a nub.
I stood to examine my surroundings when a male voice said, “Miss, I need your help.”
I froze. Well, as much as one can freeze with their heart pounding tightly against their rib cage.
Whirling around, I was confronted by a man. Well…maybe an apparition of a man, standing in the middle of the room. I had no idea how he’d gotten in, but there he was, all shimmery and almost glowing. He reached out a hand to me, and I thought I saw something like sadness in his deep brown eyes, but there was such a shimmer around him it was hard to tell. He almost looked as if he was standing in front of funny mirrors at the circus.
“Miss,” he pleaded, “please. I need your help.”
I opened my mouth, so many questions, but they all stuck in my throat as he walked, no, floated, toward me. The closer he got, the stronger my urge to run, but the heavier my feet felt planted to the floor. “Please,” he said again, “find me.”
Find him? I had no idea who ‘him’ was. Besides, this was a dream. Right?
I couldn’t move, I couldn’t scream, but I could swim up out of this bizarre happening in my subconscious. Forcing myself to wake up, I steadied my breathing for a few beats before I opened my eyes. The shadowy movement of the fan blades overhead let me know I was back in the present and it had only been a dream. I heard soft breathing and turned on my side to see my precious five-year old, Emma-Kate, sleeping softly beside me. Since the beyond ugly divorce between her father and me, her sleep had become troubled and she’d taken to sleeping in my bed. Tonight, I drew her to me and held her closely in my arms, taking comfort from her.
~ * ~
I must’ve fallen back to sleep, because when I awoke the heat from the May Charleston sun streamed through the windows and warmed my face. Even with the fan on high and the air conditioning running, heat permeated the room. I lay back on the pillows and shut my eyes, letting the warmth bathe my face. As a little girl, I’d always believed the sun had mystical powers it could impart to me if I only let it. Nights were scary, dark places, but the sun made everything clear, bright, real.
I needed the sun’s strength to face the day ahead of me. Family lawyers were descending on Alston Plantation this afternoon to go over my father’s Estate. Being an old Charleston attorney from a long line of Charleston attorneys, Father was meticulous in planning how his assets were to be distributed after his death. With me being the only off-spring in the family who followed in the Alston family tradition of joining the judicial system, he’d made me his executrix. I know he would’ve preferred my brother to have joined the family practice, but Daddy was happy to have at least one of us. Alston and Alston, Attorneys at Law remained intact, even if it was William Alston, III and Margaret Alston and not William IV.
Groaning at the thought of facing my siblings while doling out the family possessions, I pulled the covers over my head and squeezed my eyes shut. If ever I wished I had gone into another profession, it was now. Charleston County dog catcher would’ve been nice. I always loved animals.
“Wrapping yourself up in the quilts ain’t going to make the day disappear.”
“Bitsy, how am I going to get through this?” Before I could do anything, the woman who’d been with our family since the day I was born unceremoniously pulled the quilts off me, leaving me on the bed with my University of South Carolina Gamecock football jersey twisted around my thighs.
“You’re going to get up, take a shower, put yourself together and do what your daddy wanted you to do.” Bitsy was never one to mince words.
She also always knew what I needed and when I needed it. Sitting on the side of the bed, she removed the pillow I had thrown across my face and took my hand. “Maggie, you’re the baby of this family, but you’ve always been the strongest.” I groaned even louder, threw my arm over my eyes, and fought the tears that threatened to spill.
“You’ve hated hearing that since you was a little girl, but true is true.” I looked at her hand holding mine, her light brown skin against my always too-pale skin, and knew she was right. “Your daddy may have never shown it, but he was proud as the dickens he had you by his side in that law office of his.” Bitsy’s voice, her soft southern drawl, soothed my nerves.
“I wish I’d done it all differently. Another profession in Timbuktu or someplace. Any place, but Charleston.” Now I let the tears come, slowly, but down my face they fell.
She took me in her arms and rocked me like she had when I was a little girl and had bad dreams. “You don’t mean that, Maggie.”
Then it hit me. Pulling out of her arms, I looked Bitsy in her deep brown eyes.
“Bitsy, what started my fear of the dark?” Bits and pieces of last night’s dream began to emerge. But, something else was in my memory, too, right at the edge, but still out of reach.
She pulled away and began tidying the room.
“All children are afraid of the dark. Nothing unusual about that.”
“Then why did you stop looking me in the eye?”
No answer.
“Bitsy, I’m a thirty two-year-old woman with a law degree and a five-year-old child. Yet, I still sleep with a night light plugged into the wall. Emma-Kate is braver in the dark than me.”
Bitsy picked up Emma-Kate’s stuffed doggie and put him on the bed, still avoiding my gaze. My heart began to beat a quickening rhythm. Bitsy never avoided anyone’s gaze.
“Maggie, it’s getting on to eleven in the morning. You need to get up and shower. Get ready for the reading of your daddy’s will. Emma-Kate’s had her breakfast and is playing in the garden with Zeke.” Zeke had been our groundskeeper since time began. He loved teaching Emma-Kate how to garden.
I knew when to leave something alone with Bitsy, to not push. Now was one of those times. But she was hiding something and the lawyer in me was bound and determined to find out what it was.
A ‘humph’ drew my attention to Bitsy holding up the two dresses I’d brought from home to choose from for today’s family gathering. A black, cap-sleeve linen and the same dress in navy blue. My power dresses when I had a tough case in court. I’d left the matching jackets at home due to the heat and humidity.
“What? No dainty pearls?” Bitsy teased good-naturedly.
“They’re in my purse.” I grinned sheepishly.
We shared a laugh and the tension brought on by my question was gone. I would pick my time to pursue the answer and Bitsy knew it. But for now we let the subject drop.
1
Bitsy brought me a tray with my favorite black tea and some of her famous biscuits and homemade rhubarb jam. The steaming tea soothed me, even on this hot morning. I tried a biscuit, but even with Bitsy’s delicious jam, it felt dry going down my throat. Sighing, I placed the dish back on the tray and finished my tea. Sitting in the window seat with the floral chintz cushions I’d had as long as I could remember, I looked around the only room I’d known as a little girl. No warm fuzzy feelings came to me. It wasn’t that my parents didn’t let me have slumber parties with my friends, just the opposite. They loved having parties for my siblings and me at the plantation. It’s just that as far back as I could remember, this room gave me, for lack of a better word, an odd feeling. Like every Alston who’d ever inhabited this room before me left a small part of themselves behind and they were all still here inhabiting the room with me.
I’d never told anyone. I was scared my family would think I was beyond nuts and commit me to a padded room. Besides, what would I say? “Um, Momma and Daddy? Our ancestors like my room so much they won’t leave. Want me to ask if there are any family jewels hidden anywhere?”
I froze. Suddenly, my attempt at imaginary humor wasn’t so funny.
“Help me, miss, please.”
Last night’s dream came rushing back. Sitting in this room, memories flooded me. It wasn’t the first time I’d dreamt of a long-ago man asking for my help. I wanted to pack my clothes, grab my child and run back to my safe, modern home in Mt. Pleasant. I hadn’t slept in this room in years and now I remembered why. I only slept here last night because it meant so much to Emma-Kate to spend a night in the room Mommy slept in as a little girl. I lived less than ten miles away, but visits to the plantation were limited to day visits and no sleepovers. Images from last night started to come back in bits and pieces. Who was this man and why had he always invaded my dreams? What did he want from me?
A loud knock on the door made me almost leap out of the window.
“Megs? You in there?” My older sister Francine had come in from Asheville, North Carolina. Even though only three hours by car, she’s the only one of the Alston children who’d left the state. I envied her that.
“I’ll be down in a minute, Frankie.” If I let her into my room, she’d see my shaking hands and I wasn’t in the mood to try and explain what had me so spooked.
Typical Frankie, she didn’t take the hint and invited herself inside. We were eighteen months apart, but one would’ve thought we were from different generations.
“Girl...” Her drawl today was rich and thick. The texture she used when she wanted something. “You’re not even dressed.”
“I’m working on it, Frankie.” Again she didn’t take the hint. Instead, she sat on the overstuffed chintz covered chair that matched the window seat covering and propped her Jimmy Choo’s on the ottoman.
Frankie made a big show of smoothing her expensive silk dress and adjusting her heavy David Yurman necklace so the diamond clasp was at her throat. Frankie was like our mother; they both had excellent taste and liked to show it off. They’d rather go without groceries if it meant buying another piece of designer jewelry. Or shoes. Or a handbag. Or, well...anything with a label.
Her performance was leading up to something and Francine never disappointed.
“I miss Daddy so much.” She brushed at her eyes with the back of one hand, but I doubted any tears were there. “Having to go through this task today of reading his will, seeing who he left what to…well, it seems almost grotesque.”
Bingo. There it was.
“It won’t take long, Frankie. It’s pretty clear.”
“I just don’t know if I can handle it without falling apart in front of the entire family.” She looked at me out of the corner of one smoky eyeshadowed eye.
“The entire family being you, me, and big brother William?” I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
That earned me a glare. So much for Frankie’s crocodiles tears.
“Look, Francine—” I didn’t have time for her games and I really needed to finish dressing—“you’ll know what Daddy left you when the rest of us know what he left us.”
“You already know because you helped him write it.” Her lower lip thrust out worse than a petulant child’s.
“Daddy went to an attorney he’d known for years. In this issue, I was his daughter, not his junior partner.” Taking a deep breath, I toned down my frustration. “Frankie, Daddy loved you. He loved all of us. It will be a fair divide. Now, if you don’t mind…” I gestured toward the door.
Taking my more than subtle hint, Francine finally took her expensively clad body and walked out of the room like a fashion model on a runway. Leave it to her to make a dramatic exit.
I love my sister, truly, I do, but she was so much like our mother. Daddy and Momma treated her like a queen, but she was never satisfied. She always had to have the most expensive and the latest styles. I often think she was so unhappy within herself, she thought all these material possessions would make her happy. Now she lived in a beautiful beach house on Isle of Palms and traveled a lot with her circle of girlfriends who either had rich husbands or large alimony payments.
I put on the black linen dress—seemed to match my mood—and threw on some lip gloss and mascara. My curly hair was particularly unruly in the humidity, so I hurriedly banded it in a low ponytail at the nape of my neck.
Putting my hand on the doorknob, I pressed my head against the door, the wood cool and smooth. I took a huge breath for courage, opened the door, and went downstairs.
~ * ~
Walking down the hallway on my way to the ‘grand’ staircase as Daddy liked to call it, I looked at portraits of Alston family ancestors on the wall. Realization hit that I was searching for the man in my dream, but none of the men in the paintings were him—not even close. Did I really believe I would find someone from my dreams to be an actual family member from generations gone by? Something bothered me and I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was, yet it was there, down deep in my gut.
I descended the stairs and walked across the marble-floored foyer to the dining room. I shoved whatever was upsetting me aside, figuring there’d be time enough at some point to deal with it. One stressful event was about all I could handle right now and dispersing Daddy’s estate was a doozey.
The long mahogany dining room table shone like a mirror. That table was Daddy’s favorite thing in this entire plantation. It’d been in the family for generations and he used to wonder out loud about all the discussions that had taken place around it through the generations. He would say, “the history this table has seen.” No doubt Bitsy polished it in hopes it would somehow make my father happy.
My brother William winked at me and gave me one of his beautiful smiles when I walked into the room. William was as calm and pragmatic as Francine was superficial and dramatic. He stood up from his chair, crossed the room to me and gave me a huge bear hug, lifting me off my feet like he had when we were children. I relaxed immediately. William always sensed when I was upset and knew just what to do to make me feel better.
“Hey, Mags.” He set me on my feet and tilted my chin up to look me in the eye. At 6’4”, William was very tall for an Alston. We figured some ancestor somewhere passed down those genes. “It’s a day like this I’m certainly glad I didn’t go into the family business and become a lawyer.” He laughed good-naturedly and I couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s a day like this I wish I hadn’t gone into the family practice either.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek. He suddenly pulled me close and whispered in my ear, “Don’t worry about Frankie. Whatever Daddy didn’t leave her that she wants, her rich husband will buy her. If for nothing else but to shut her the hell up.”
I choked on my laughter and turned it into a cough, while covering my mouth. Frankie was staring at us, straining to hear our conversation. Thank goodness Daddy’s lawyer, Norman Stein, walked in before she could say anything.
We settled around the table as Norman took out packets of documents and passed one to each of us. I thought Francine would bust a gut before Norman gave us the go ahead to open Daddy’s Last Will and Testament.
2
The reading of the will took less than an hour. It was pretty simple, considering Daddy’s many assets. Bitsy and Zeke were taken care of for the rest of their lives, but that was no surprise to anyone. They were family.
William kissed me good-bye to get back to his surf shop on Folly Beach. He was proud to be an Alston, but never cared about the money and status that went with the name. He had a college degree, though I often thought he only did it to make Daddy happy. Forget the fact he owned a string of very successful surf shops. Give him a pair of Teva sandals, a surfboard with good tides and he was in heaven. We promised to get together for brunch on Sunday.
Frankie sobbed louder as each item given to her was read. William and I just looked at one another, rolling our eyes. Norman bit his lip to keep from laughing. As soon as it was over, she got in her Jaguar for the ride back to Asheville. I promised her I would begin work on getting her the items she was bequeathed
as soon as possible.
Suddenly, my body felt heavy and I could barely move. I hadn’t realized how much anxiety I felt about today. Last night’s dream and Bitsy’s refusal to talk to me about my childhood dreams only added to my weariness.
“Mommy—” Emma Kate ran into the room—“come outside and play with me.” My heart melted at the sight of her curly brown hair bouncing around her shoulders, a huge grin on her sweet face. The best thing she got from her father was eyes as blue as the sky reflecting off the Atlantic. I sat in a chair and pulled her onto my lap facing me. I wanted to pick her up, but we’d both fall from my lack of energy.
“Zeke helped me plant flowers and I want you to see.”
I kissed her dirt-stained palm. Tired as I was, there was no way I could refuse my darling daughter’s request. Nap be damned, there was time enough for sleep.
“Mommy—” a frown creased her forehead—“who were you talking to last night?”
I looked at her and shrugged my shoulders, not sure what she meant.
“You woke me up. You kept saying, ‘Who are you? What do you want from me?’”
“Mommy was just having a bad dream, sweetie.” I had no idea I’d awakened her.
“Oh, okay. I thought maybe you were talking to the man in the room.”
I fought to keep my voice level and light, but my heart was wildly thumping in my chest. “What man, pumpkin?”
She let out an exasperated sigh. “The man in the funny clothes with the long hair. He had a black bow in his ponytail like you do for me.”
It took all I had to keep my breathing steady. This wasn’t possible. It was my dream and now here was my five-year-old telling me she’d had the same dream.
