At least she had the brains and humanity to flush deep red. Amelia hid behind her. Mother took her friends, looping her arms through theirs, and walked to the lawn chairs.
“Oh, God damn,” Frances Mae said, “I’ve done it again! Why do I always put my foot in my mouth?”
“Because you’re an ass, that’s why,” I said, not giving a hoot if she exploded.
The breeze was coming from the river, blowing my hair in my face, but I stood and faced her, thinking that I might just slap the hell out of her. Little Amelia stepped forward to break the tension, or so I thought at the moment.
“My momma’s not an ass, Aunt Caroline, you are!”
My eyes shot open to the size of saucers and I bent over to get very close to my niece’s face. “Oh. No, I don’t think I am, Amelia. But your mother is,” I said, throwing caution out with propriety, “she’s an ass and so are you!”
“Well! I never!” Frances Mae grabbed her daughter, the one with enough meanness in her to scare all the alligators on the planet back to the Everglades, turned on her heel, and rushed toward the dock, shouting, “Trip? Darlin’! Trip? Darlin’! Your sister . . .”
“Oh, blow it out your ass, Frances Mae.”
She didn’t hear me, but I felt better for having said it. I wasn’t even sure what it meant, but that didn’t matter.
I joined Mother, Miss Sweetie, and Miss Nancy.
“. . . and I just wasn’t going to do this without y’all,” Mother was saying. “Here! Take a tissue!”
Both women were crying and took them, wiping their eyes. I put my arm around Miss Sweetie, whose chest rose and fell with heavy sadness.
“Well, we knew it anyway, Lavinia,” Miss Nancy said, “we just didn’t know it for sure.”
“We’ve been knowing you all our life! Of course we knew!” Miss Sweetie said.
“I told Frances Mae something bad,” I said. They looked at me. “Real bad. I’ve been reported to my brother.”
“Good!” they said together.
“Frances Mae needs a good whipping, if you ask me!” Miss Nancy said.
“She doesn’t have a sensitive bone in her entire body!” Miss Sweetie said.
“Or a smart one,” I said for good measure.
“Gee,” Mother said, “I’m really gonna miss her, yanh? Maybe I’ll haunt her ugly self.”
With that they began to laugh, releasing the tension and some of the sorrow. They still had their friend and I still had my mother. We would not waste a moment of it wallowing around in self-pity.
I heard a car and turned to see Frances Mae leaving in a cloud of dust as fast as she could. We giggled again.
“I hope she took her nasty ham salad with her,” I said.
“Don’t worry,” Miss Sweetie said, “I’ve got enough food for a hundred men.”
“And, I brought my special chicken, Lavinia. Fattening as hell.”
“Good! Come on,” Mother said, “the river’s calling! Let’s go, yanh?”
Matthew’s car pulled in. He got out wearing shorts and a knit shirt, looking very good.
“Would you look at what I see?” Miss Nancy said, with all the slow phrasing of a construction worker ogling a pretty girl on a hot summer’s day.
“He’s a big one,” Miss Sweetie said, as Matthew got closer. “Yessireee!”
“Yeah, look how he walks. I’ll bet it’s eight, no, ten inches,” Mother said.
“Mother!”
Jesus, these girls were terrible! It was sweet of him to come by.
“Morning, ladies!” He nodded to them and then gave me a light kiss on the cheek. “Thought your brother might need a bar-tender!”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate the help,” I said.
Matthew and I walked away toward the boats. I turned around to make sure Mother and her friends were following. They were clucking, high-fiving me and measuring in the air as though Matthew’s britches held an eel. Honest to God. They were some bunch.
We boarded the boat and Mr. Jenkins and Matthew took each lady’s hand to be sure they didn’t fall in the drink. We pushed off from the dock. Trip put on his sunglasses and barely spoke to us; certainly he made no reference to Frances Mae’s departure. Good. I didn’t want to hear it anyway.
The day was glorious—sun shining, no humidity, a perfect breeze. The sounds of birds blended with “La Vie en Rose” sung by Piaf. We drank champagne—mimosas—and munched on Miss Nancy’s barbecued chicken, deviled eggs made with shrimp that were the most divine I’d ever tasted, ever, asparagus with the perfect crunch wrapped in proscuitto, and Miss Sweetie’s mondo strawberries with whipped cream. Would you believe Mother had requested, and received, a Sonny’s shredded pork barbecue sandwich on a hamburger roll and one large onion ring.
“Mother! Where on earth did you get that?”
“Mr. Jenkins went down to Charleston for me!”
Mr. Jenkins looked up at Mother and grinned so wide I could count his back teeth. He loved Mother and I was sure he knew everything that was going on.
“You’re a doll, Mr. Jenkins,” I said, “did anybody ever tell you that?”
“Nope, but I wouldn’t have been able to read that menu without my Miss Lavinia. I reckon I’d go to hell for her iffin she ask me, yanh? Yes, sir, I would.”
“Well, let’s hope you don’t have to come there to find me!”
Now that the bad news was out in the open, Mother fully intended to horrify us with gallows humor. But, we just shook our heads instead. Even in the face of her own demise, she was irrepressible. And amazing, gracious, and very beautiful.
Mr. Jenkins turned his watery eyes away from her as she left our pontoon to hop on another. He looked over the expanse of water, marsh grass, tiny creatures all over the small shores, and out at the cloudless blue sky. I could tell his thoughts were a million miles away. I put my hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
“It’s okay, Mr. Jenkins,” I said.
“We don’t truck with Gawd’s will, Miss Caroline, no sir. That don’t mean you have to like it. But you got to accept it. Ain’t that right, Millie?”
“I hear you, Jenkins! You gonna spoil Miss L!” Millie said, teasing him. “Oh, yeah, Jenkins got his philosophy book out now! Y’all better watch out!”
“It’s the Bible—not just some old book, Millie! The Bible!”
“Don’t talk to me about Bibles,” I said, “I’ve got one with legs!”
I told them the strange story and they threw their heads back, laughing good and hard.
“It’s not funny, y’all!” I said. “It’s seriously strange!”
“No, it ain’t!” Mr. Jenkins said. “It’s just your daddy coming to get your mother!”
“Yeah,” I said, “that’s what your girlfriend says too.”
Millie raised her eyebrows at Mr. Jenkins and they laughed again. It was true, I decided to believe it. There were many worse things than that which could have been going on. And, hell, it was the Lowcountry.
Millie, Mr. Jenkins, and I were alone on the lead pontoon.
Matthew, Reverend Gold Digger—who was there for some spiritual good measure for Mother—and the fellow with the video camera were on the second boat with Trip, talking and nodding their heads. Matthew looked up at me every now and then, smiling. I never was worried that Matthew would be angry with me over seeing Jack, but suddenly I began to fret that Jack wouldn’t be happy to see me with Matthew. I should have invited him, but I hadn’t invited Matthew either. It had just worked out that way.
People on their docks and in passing boats smiled and waved. The infamous Miss Lavinia was at it again. And her daughter was up to it too!
Matthew got up and came to my side with a bottle of champagne, refilling my glass.
“You’re seeing someone, aren’t you,” he said.
“Yes. Yes, I am. I was going to tell . . .”
He held his hand up for me to be quiet. First, he looked out over the water and then he looked back at me. “Carol
ine, I loved you when we were children and I’m probably gonna go on loving you until I die. But, this time, we started out as friends. That’s not the worst thing—to be friends. You know?”
“Oh! Matthew!” I threw my arms around his neck. “I would love to be your friend!”
I guessed that Trip had told Matthew about Jack. It was alright. Matthew was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t Jack. There I was, on a pontoon, drinking champagne in the middle of the day, and realizing I was truly in love, more deeply than I had ever been in my life. Mother’s crazy parade had made me see it.
Mother’s plan to be a voyeur at her own party had failed. Miss Sweetie and Miss Nancy sat on her either side in folding chairs and Eric curled up at her feet. Her left hand never left Eric’s head or shoulder. I watched her explain the stories they recounted to him. He was completely enchanted by her and she by him.
She might have been wearing one of her dramatic outfits, and yes, we played every song with the word rose in it we could find. And, okay, it was a corny tradition, these parades of ours. But when the red ball of the sun slipped under the Edisto River that evening, I was pretty sure that life didn’t get much better than being in the place you loved most, surrounded by the people closest to your heart.
Forty-seven
The Second Time Around
JACK called the next day. It was Sunday, around ten in the morning. I was getting dressed for church. “Hey, how are you doing?” he said.
“How am I doing? Good question. Not so hot, I think. I’m on the way to church to beg God’s mercy.”
“Want company?”
“Sure. Why not?”
I promised to save him a seat and sure enough, about fifteen minutes into the service, he appeared at my side. Eric and I moved closer to each other to make room for him in the small pew. He smelled and looked good enough to nibble.
Mother had stayed home. The festivities of yesterday had worn her out and she wanted to sleep. Miss Sweetie and Miss Nancy sat behind us.
The small choir was in full form that morning and Reverend Moore’s eyes swept the congregation, surprise in them when he saw me next to Jack.
I was so upset during the entire service. I remained composed, but inside I quaked. Thoughts of losing Mother crawled up my spine and down again. There was no escape from what we were all going to have to face.
There in that tiny church, I admitted to myself that I was waffling—one day falling apart and the next as strong as I could be. How could this upheaval occur in this sliver of time? Everything was different now.
I had finally finished the two pending decorating jobs in New York by giving them over to another decorator I knew. I didn’t care. That had been easy enough to do, but it was also the final chapter in my life there. Another closure. Another relief.
I had established a nice friendship with Matthew and was also terrifically happy that I hadn’t blown that apart by my relationship with Jack. I was determined to find him someone wonderful to love. Matthew was one of the sweetest men I had ever known.
Some nights I’d rest in the folds of deep slumber and others, I paced the floors, reading that Bible, trying to communicate with Daddy, asking him to ask God to leave Mother with us for a little while longer.
As though he could read my mind, Jack reached over and put his hand on mine as it rested on the pew in front of us. From the corner of my eye, I could see Eric’s notice of it and the smallest of smiles crept across his face. He liked Jack. Jack listened to Eric’s thoughts and never talked down to him. If anything, Jack was thoroughly delighted to be around a little boy. His own son was in his last year at the Citadel and I guessed it was nostalgic for him to have a young boy around again.
That wasn’t true and I knew it. Why was I always trying to protect myself ? Well, I had good reasons. I had to admit, Jack was genuinely great. He liked Eric for Eric. It made me love him more. Yes, it did.
When the ushers came around with the collection plate, Jack gave Eric a five-dollar bill to contribute. Eric looked up to me for approval and I nodded my head. It was the first time I had been in a church with my son and a man I loved. I couldn’t help but feel sentimental.
Outside, when the service was over, we milled around a little saying hello to people. Eric ran around with some children he had gotten to know and inside of no time, his shirttail was out and he had grass stains on the knees of his trousers. Across the yard, I saw Miss Sweetie was all dressed in red linen, with gold jewelry and a large straw hat. I saw her with Miss Nancy, who wore a white silk tunic over pants with slides; both of them were wildly flirting with Reverend Moore. Reverend Moore just gobbled them up, smiling broadly and waving us over.
“Morning, Miss Caroline!” Reverend Moore said. “Do I know your friend? Welcome! Welcome!” he said to Jack, shaking his hand until I thought it would fly off into the hedges.
“Great sermon, Reverend! I’m Jack Taylor.”
Miss Sweetie and Miss Nancy were all a-titter.
“Dr. Taylor! I’m Nancy, Lavinia’s oldest friend! It’s so nice to have you here with us!”
“She is not Lavinia’s oldest friend, Dr. Taylor, I am! I’m Sweetie! And I’ve known Caroline since the day she opened her eyes in this world.”
“Oh, fine, Sweetie, you’ve known her six months longer than me. Big deal,” Miss Nancy said and turned to Reverend Moore. “Here we are, straight from Sunday services, already bickering. Do you have plans for breakfast, Reverend?”
“No, ladies, I don’t. Shall we meet . . . where?”
Miss Sweetie and Miss Nancy looked at each other, awash in the thrill of entertaining Reverend Moore.
“Let’s go to the country club!” Miss Sweetie said.
“Done! Meet you ladies there in an hour? I just have to tidy up here.”
“That’s fine, Reverend. Caroline? Do tell Lavinia that we’ll be around to see her later?” Miss Nancy said with a wink.
What she meant was Tell Lavinia we bagged the preacher! Well, Reverend Moore was a big boy, and he was walking into this with his eyes open. After all, I was sure he thought he would be safe at a country club!
“I’ll tell her, don’t worry,” I said and gave them both a peck on the cheek.
I turned to Jack and said, “Have you seen my boy?”
“Let’s go find him,” he said.
I could almost hear Miss Nancy and Miss Sweetie sighing in relief, approval, and happiness that I had a man in my life again. Between Miss Lavinia, her friends, and Millie, I had a surplus of mothers. We walked away from them, arm in arm, in search of Eric. At the side of the church, Jack stopped and spun me around.
“What?” I said.
“Is this possible?”
“What?”
“That I feel this way about you?”
There wasn’t a shred of guile in his voice. It was a serious question. A breeze came from nowhere, a gentle reminder from Mother ACE to pay attention to the moment. We looked into each other’s eyes and saw each other. We began to laugh.
“Are you gonna go all mushy on me, Doctor?”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.”
“Good. I don’t want to be the only mushy one around here.”
For a few more moments we stood there. It was one of those infinitely stupid times when you size the other guy up, try to predict the future, calculate the risk, and decide whether or not it is worth it. As though you could help yourself from falling into the void anyway.
“I want you to meet my son,” he said.
“Oh, God, the ultimate test,” I said. Images of an angry cadet with a gun crossed my mind.
“He’s gonna love you,” Jack said, smiling wide, eyes dancing.
“What makes you so sure, Dr. Genius?”
“Because I do.”
“You do?” I couldn’t believe it! Jack was in love? With me? How could he be so sure? I mean, I was in love with him, but I hadn’t said it.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Don’t say I do. It makes me nervous.”
The sun was all over us; we were dazzled by it, by each other. In my peripheral vision I saw Eric running toward us.
“Time to go?” Eric said. “Mom? You okay?”
I struggled to peel my eyes away from Jack’s beautiful face. He looked like something from a Greek coin. How was it that he became more handsome every time I looked at him? I just wanted that moment to last and last.
“Mom?”
I put my arm through Jack’s and offered my other one to Eric. With Jack on my right and Eric on my left, I could take on the world. I’d read about levitation in Tibetan Buddhism, and I could have sworn that on the walk across the lawn to the parking lot my feet never touched the ground. No lie.
Forty-eight
Free at Last
August
IN the coming weeks, all focus was on Mother. In an odd way, her illness seemed to cure everyone around her of what ailed them. Millie continued to plaster her with herbal ointments that seemed to impede the violence of Mother’s now-frequent nausea. She prayed with Mother and sang to her, filling Mother’s final days with friendship and love. She became Mother’s gatekeeper, regulating her visitations from her other friends. She’d call Miss Sweetie and Miss Nancy with daily reports.
She’s having a good day today.Why don’t y’all come on over and play some bridge with her? And, for God’s sake, please keep her out of the chat rooms, yanh?
They would arrive and for several hours, there would be riotous laughter and muffled whispers followed by more laughter as they entertained her and themselves—Mother propped up in her bed, her laptop computer up and running. Their cards were dealt for bridge, but I knew they remained untouched—they were all in [email protected]. We were all sure that they were still up to their old games—impersonating twenty-year-old college students with insatiable sexual appetites. The laughter had to do her a world of good.
I would walk them to the door when they left.
“This is breaking my heart, Caroline,” Miss Sweetie said.
“Mine too,” Miss Nancy said.
Plantation Page 45
