Whistlin' Dixie in a Nor'easter

by Lisa Patton

  “I think it’s for you,” I said to Issie. “From Pierre.”

  Isabella picked it up and hugged the kitty to her chest. “Thank you, Pierre.”

  At Sarah’s place was another stuffed animal—a white dog about the size of Gracie. And at my place, a small snow globe with a moose inside. I picked it up and shook it. Isabella wanted to hold it, too.

  “Careful, Issie, it’s breakable,” I said. “Hold it gently. Merci, Pierre.”

  “Es your moose,” Pierre said. “No more looking.”

  I was really looking for Peter. In fact, I couldn’t stand it another second. “Have y’all seen Peter by any chance?”

  They all looked at one another as if to inquire but I knew they had to be wondering the same thing.

  “I was hoping he might stop in . . . to say good-bye.” I might as well have shined a flashlight into my heart.

  “He’s probably restin’ before he starts his new job at the Sugartree,” Roberta said. “I’m sure he’ll call you once you get to Memphis.”

  “Maybe he drove over to New Jersey to see family. He’s got a week off before he starts,” Jeb said, and gave me an overemphasized wink.

  “You’re right. I’m sure he’ll call.” I feigned a smile.

  Jeb glanced at his watch. “It’s almost seven, you better get on the road if you want to stay ahead of the nor’easter. Take a look outside, it’s gettin’ goin’ out there.”

  Sure enough, snow was beginning to fall. In a few hours my friends would become shut-ins. “Let’s get our coats on, girls. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us, hurry, hurry.”

  Everyone bundled up and we all walked out together. Halfway to my car, I turned back around and studied the back side of my inn, the beautiful garden—now a winter wonderland—and the front door of the superb owners’ quarters. Pierre’s little cottage with the turquoise shutters and the big barn that still housed all the extra furniture and stuff from the junk room. Instead of melancholy, an unexplained peace suddenly washed over me. I glanced up at the snow, opened my mouth, and stuck out my tongue. A big fat snowflake landed right in the center and at that moment I felt an overwhelming sense of triumph and contentment. What an incredible adventure, I thought. How many Southerners in this world can actually say that they moved 1,473 miles away from home, due north to Vermont to operate an inn? And survived. I spent countless days and nights dying to get home but it wasn’t the right time. Now I was going home a different woman—a better woman—a mother my girls would admire and respect.

  I looked at my Vermont friends standing underneath the cascading snow. Roberta with her wild red hair sticking out of her knit hat, wearing her plaid skirt and her used Sorels. Jeb, with his lumberjack hat and his stomach poking so far out that his coat couldn’t cover his middle. And Pierre with his dyed jet-black hair and no hat. I felt like the wealthiest woman in America for having earned their friendships.

  One by one, and clutching their new stuffed animals, Sarah and Isabella hugged each of them good-bye. I reached out to hug Jeb, who was standing closest to me, and as soon as my cheek brushed his bushy beard I started to cry. “I never thought I’d say this, but I sure am gonna miss you twisting your mustache, Jeb. The next time I see you, I hope Jeb’s Computer World has gotten so big that you’ve had to relocate to the shopping center.” I reached up and kissed him on the forehead. His eyes moistened and I watched a tear roll down his cheek and disappear into his handlebar.

  Pierre stood right next to Jeb and by the time I reached out for him, he was already crying. “Au revoir, Leelee,” he said, and sniffed. “Vermont never same without you.”

  “We love you, Pierre.” I put my hand over my heart and then touched his. Without a doubt, Pierre Lebel was one of the kindest men I had ever known.

  “Oh, Roberta, I’m gonna miss you most of all.” I whispered in her ear so no one else would feel bad. “You’ve been the best friend any Southern girl could hope for. What would I have done without you?”

  “Aw, you’d have made it just fine. Remember what I told you. You’re a survivor. You can start another Peach Blossom Inn down south if you want to. Go back to Tennessee and knock ’em dead, missy.”

  “I’m not so sure about another inn.”

  “Never say never.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep my options open.” I gave her one last long hug. “Take care of yourself. And write to me. Promise?”

  “Of course I will. I’ll catch you up on what all you’re missin’.”

  “Look at all of us, crying like we’ll never see each other again. I’ll be back for a visit. And y’all can come to Tennessee.”

  “Be careful,” Jeb said, “especially in that car. You need to stay ahead of the storm.”

  “I will. Hey, I’m part Yankee now. You don’t need to worry about me.”

  Caution guided our steps as the girls and I fought the brawling wind over to our car, amid snow swirling frantically all around us. Still, I detected the faint harmony of Jeb’s familiar whistle serenading us on our journey home. Although it had been years since I’d heard it, maybe even elementary school, I recognized the tune right away. “I wish I was in the land of cotton, old times there are not forgotten, look away . . . away down south in Dixie.”

  My little BMW was packed to the brim with only little slivers of space remaining for us to sit. I strapped the girls in and looked back at my friends. Before sliding down into my seat, I blew them a kiss from the door. I watched them slip away through my rearview mirror as I pulled down the street for the very last time.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  “Bye-bye Peach Blossom Inn, bye-bye Jeb’s Computer World, bye-bye little store, bye-bye river, bye-bye our school.” Everything we drove past, the girls would wave and tell it good-bye.

  “Bye-bye grocery store, bye-bye pizza place, bye-bye George Clark,” I said, as we pulled into Fairhope. Oh, what the heck, I’ll just make his day with one last tank of gas. He’ll see my car all loaded up and by noon, the whole town will know that the “Southern gal” has moved away.

  The line for gas was only two cars deep and while I was waiting all I thought about was Peter. What would have prevented him from saying good-bye? I thought we were friends. Not just casual friends but dear friends. We hung out together six nights and six days a week for eight months.

  “Hello. How are you?” George said, when I pulled up to the pump.

  “I’m fine, thanks. Will you fill’er up, please?”

  “Why sure.” After he placed the pump in my gas tank, I saw him glance through the car windows. He even leaned in to get a better view. “Looks like you’re goin’ on a trip. Where to?”

  “Tennessee.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Forever.”

  George’s eyes about popped out of his skull.

  “We’re going home, George. I thought I’d stop in to say good-bye.”

  “You’ve made my day.”

  “That was my intention.” I grinned at him and almost laughed out loud. I couldn’t help it.

  “So, did you sell the old inn?” he asked.

  “I sure did.”

  “Who’s takin’ over the place?”

  “Actually, I’ve not met the new owners. We had to delay the closing a couple of days. But I’m leaving anyway. The girls and I are anxious to get home to the warm weather.”

  My comment went right over his head. “What about Roberta and Jeb and Frenchie? Will they keep their jobs?”

  “Oh yeah, their jobs are safe and secure.”

  “And how about your new chef? What’s he goin’ to do now?” His face almost glowed when he asked that question. Fortunately, the gas line popped and George had to put it back on the pump. The man was aching for more dirt but I was not about to give it to him. “That’ll be thirty-one dollars, Mrs. Satterfield,” he finally said, after I ignored his question.

  I handed George the exact change. “I don’t want to waste a second more of your time, Mr. Clark. Something t
ells me you’ve got your work cut out for you today.”

  “Well, nice knowing you, and be careful there, Mrs. Satterfield. That car of yours ain’t the best in this kind of weather. A nor’easter’s headed this way.”

  “Nor’easter, pooh. I’m not afraid of a little ole nor’easter. I can drive in the snow as well as anyone else can now. Good-bye, George and hey, stay warm!” I rolled up the window and giggled to myself. There’s a choice, you Eskimos. You don’t have to freeze your fannies off.

  I started my engine before I noticed someone heading in my direction. I pulled away from the pump and the person kept on walking—straight up in front of my car. He stood in my way so I couldn’t drive another inch. His hands were shoved in his pockets and the collar on the red jacket he wore was turned up to protect his neck. A navy blue skullcap was pulled down over his head, covering his ears and all of his hair. Still, I knew the face.

  I rammed the gearshift into park, right in the middle of George Clark’s gas station parking lot, and flew out of the car. We stood there in front of the left headlight, two feet apart, lost somewhere between embarrassment and grief, neither of us confident enough to expose our hearts. We spoke over each other rushing to get the words out.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, at the same time I was saying, “Memphis is home.”

  “I never meant to hurt you,” he said.

  “I thought you were mad at me.” Again our words fell on top of each other’s.

  “I could never be mad at you, Leelee. For Christ’s sake, you’re the nicest person I’ve ever known. When I walked out the door that night, I regretted it—immediately—but I couldn’t make myself turn back around.”

  I started to speak and he waved his hand to stop me.

  “Wait, let me finish. It’s just that I’m . . . sad you’re leaving. I’ve wanted to tell you for so long how special you are, and how beautiful I think you are, inside and out. I’ve never met anyone like you before, Leelee. And when I knew you would be leaving and going back home to Memphis, I started freaking out and I reacted like a jerk. I’m sorry.” He dropped his head and stared at the ground.

  “It’s okay. I understand.” I reached out and touched him on the sleeve. “You’ve got to hear me on this. This has been a very hard decision for me. Oddly enough, I’ve grown to like it here. And I didn’t even realize it. When Ed presented me with an offer, I didn’t know what to do. I agonized over it, Peter.” A tear started rolling down my cheek. Then another and another.

  He reached up, stroked my cheek, and wiped each tear away with his thumb. “Sweetheart, Vermont is not you. I know that. It wouldn’t be fair of me to expect you to stay here. I always knew you’d eventually leave. You told me the day you hired me that it wouldn’t last. I took that chance. I’m happy for the time I did spend with you.”

  By now huge snowflakes were collecting all over us. I was dying to say: Peter, I’m the one that thinks you’re beautiful and you’re the nicest guy I’ve ever known. But I couldn’t say it. I don’t know why, I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. I was packed up and headed home.

  The clumsy pause in our conversation grew longer. I wasn’t sure whether to say good-bye and get in the car or wait for him to continue.

  “What’s in your CD player?” he asked, a random change of subject to say the least.

  “I’m not sure, why?”

  “Will you check for me?”

  I opened the door, sat down inside, and turned up the volume. Only radio commercials—no CD in the player. I pushed on the eject button to make sure. “Nothing.”

  “You must have your CDs in the car for the long trip, right?”

  “Yeah, they’re right here.” I patted the case next to me.

  “Good. Hop out a second. Hi, girls,” he said as he sat down in my seat.

  What in the world is he up to? I wondered. Peter fished through my CD case until he came to the one he wanted. He glanced at the label. I watched him push in the CD and skip through the tracks. He turned the heat on full blast, cranked up the volume, and rolled down the driver’s-side window. “You owe me a dance.” He stepped out of the car and reached for my hand.

  “Right now? Here?”

  “Right now, right here, right in front of everybody.” His mouth curved up and his eyes lit up his boyish face.

  He ripped off his gloves and shoved them in his pocket. I wasn’t wearing any so when Peter took my hand in his, it felt nice and warm. He slipped his other arm into the back of my coat and gently pulled me toward him.

  Van’s voice rang out loud and clear. Right in front of George Clark, my daughters, and all of Fairhope, Peter Owen and I slowly glided along with the music, underneath the cascading snow. This time no one stopped us. I buried my head in his chest and snuggled up next to him.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.” He peered down at me a couple of minutes into the song. His smile kills me. His perfect teeth and perfect lips are intoxicating.

  I gazed up at him for a moment and hesitated before saying anything. “I was wondering if you might visit me. It’ll be spring soon. Memphis is so pretty—”

  He put his finger over my lips. “Do you want me to visit you?”

  I nodded.

  Peter let go of my hand and wrapped both of his arms around me. We danced in silence “and magnificently we floated into the mystic.”

  I had never been so sorry to hear a song fade away.

  “You better get your butt on the road, young lady. The weather’s not getting any better.” He patted my bottom and slowly pulled away.

  No, don’t let me go. Let’s dance the next one and the one after that. I was tempted to reach out for him again and pull him back toward me. I didn’t care who was watching. But the awkwardness returned and we stood there in silence. “I can’t say good-bye to you,” I finally said. “Let’s just say see you soon.”

  He turned toward my car, opened the back door, and leaned in to kiss the girls’ cheeks. Then he turned to me. “See you soon, boss.” He drew me close and this time he kissed the top of my head. When I looked up at him he cradled my freezing-cold face in his hands. “I’ll miss you, and that’s another promise.” After beholding the thirst in my eyes, he leaned down and tenderly kissed my lips. “Trust me.”

  I never took my eyes off of him as he walked to his truck and stepped inside. Should I stop him? Go running after him? No, I’ve made my decision already. God, this is torture. My head is about to explode.

  He backed up his truck and slowly inched his way out of the parking lot. Tears rolled down my face so fast and furious and all I had to wipe them on was my coat sleeve. I watched his car roll down the road until it disappeared.

  Before I pulled onto the highway, I peeked back at the gas station in my rearview mirror. I could have sworn good ole George had a little skip in his step.

  ______

  “How much longer?” Sarah asked, only thirty minutes into the trip.

  “A lot longer,” I said.

  “I’m bored,” Isabella cried.

  “Me, too,” answered her sister.

  “All right, y’all, we can’t start this early into the trip. Let’s play a car game.”

  “Yay!” Issie squealed.

  “Okay. Let’s play the animal game. Think of different kinds of animals that live in Vermont.”

  “I call first,” Sarah yelled.

  “No fair, I wanna be first.”

  “Issie, going second is better, honey, just wait. Go ahead, Sarah.”

  “How about a moose!”

  “That’s what I was gonna say,” Isabella said, with a pout.

  “Moose are only legends around here, anyway. It’s okay, Issie, now it’s your turn. Go ahead.”

  She thought for a second but as hard as she tried she couldn’t come up with one. “You go next, Mommy.”

  “Okay . . . how about a deer?”

  “That’s a good one,” Sarah said. “Now you go, Issie.”

  I could see Issie in the rea
rview mirror trying her best to come up with an animal. “I know,” she squealed, kicking her feet in her car seat. “Princess Grace!”

  “Princess Grace? Oh my God. WE FORGOT PRINCESS GRACE KELLY!”

  I swerved over to the shoulder, glanced quickly behind me to make sure the coast was clear, pulled a U-turn, and headed straight back to Willingham.

  “But Gracie’s dead,” Sarah, the only one with any sense, exclaimed.

  “No, she’s in heaven,” Isabella told her.

  “Her spirit is in heaven but her body is still frozen under that ground! And she would never want to be left there without us.” It was completely absurd, I realize that, but still. “People dig up bodies and move them all the time,” I said, glancing back at the girls. “Look at Elvis. He was dug up from Forest Hill Cemetery and moved to Graceland.”

  “Who’s Elvis?” Sarah asked.

  “Who’s Elvis? Another reason to go home. My own daughter doesn’t even know who Elvis is.”

  Nor’easter or not, there was no way in hell I’d leave my precious Gracie in Vermont, as bad as she hated that state. My guilt would never allow me to leave her body there for the rest of eternity. What’s another three hundred dollars to dig her back up? Nothing, in the scheme of Gracie’s life, I rationalized.

  So here we were, headed back down Route 12, thirty more minutes down the road in the opposite direction of Memphis. The whole way back to Willingham I kept thinking about Gracie and how I could have possibly left her behind. Then the most horrifying thought hit me. Jeb might guess wrong about her exact burial location and put that jackhammer right through her. “IT’S NOT WORTH IT!” I screamed.

  “What’s not worth it?” Sarah asked.

  “Renting the jackhammer.”

  “Are we going to dig up Gracie?” she wanted to know.

  “No, I’ve changed my mind. But we’re going back for her cross.”

  When we drove back up to the inn at 8:30 A.M., I noticed the Peach Blossom Inn sign had fallen down. I made a mental note to hang it back up on my way back out of town but for now I was focused solely on Gracie. More new snow had accumulated in the hour and a half since we left. I pulled alongside the fence in front of the gate.