Stargazey Point

by Shelley Noble

  Millie brought the napkin to her mouth and held it there to stop whatever words were about to escape.

  Abbie sat across the table like a pinned bug, wishing she’d never gotten involved. Just spent the week and left with a big thank-you and a fruit basket that would arrive after she was gone.

  But she had to admit she wasn’t ready to leave. She wanted to work with the kids, get to know Bethanne and Penny and Sarah better. She hadn’t even been into Hadley’s yet and she wanted to meet him.

  And Beau. Beau standing like an enchanted prince in the gazebo. And Cab. She wanted to see the carousel in operation. Hear the music. Laugh as the twins rode round and round. Maybe, welcome that almost kiss.

  She pulled herself back to earth. The twins might never ride the carousel. Social services would send them back to their hateful uncle and that would be the end of that. To Penny, Bethanne, and Sarah, she was just an out-of-season tourist. She’d go to Hadley’s tomorrow and buy a Coke like a real native. And her vacation would be over.

  Then she looked at Millie, so frail, and Marnie, so disgusted, and she knew she couldn’t walk away.

  “Do you—” Abbie had to clear her throat to get the words out. “Do you have a plan?” And almost laughed. She was the last person on earth to ask about plans.

  “Ha!” Marnie said. “Here’s the plan. Start packing.”

  “How could you?” Millie cried. “It’s Beau’s home, not yours.”

  Abbie saw Marnie flinch. Millie pushed herself to her feet and tottered out the door.

  “She didn’t mean it,” Abbie said, just because there was nothing else to say.

  “I know. Neither did I. I just tend to go all caustic when I’m frustrated. But at least she’s right about one thing. It isn’t her house, either. Nor is it her decision to make. She’ll feel slighted for a few days, roam the upstairs like Mrs. Rochester, and get over it. And I’ll do what I always do. Find more hidden silver to sell. And keep us afloat one more year.”

  “I think I should wrap up my visit.”

  Marnie rounded on her. “Will you cut it out? You sound like a broken record. I have enough on my hands without worrying about you.”

  Abbie was stunned. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to worry. You don’t need to worry. I’ve had a wonderful time. You’ve been so kind, but I don’t want you to be inconvenienced in any way.” She stood up.

  “Sit down. You’re the best thing that has happened to this house in years. You may not have noticed, but Beau’s not here a lot. With you here, Millie has someone to fuss over instead of harping on him all the time. She’s cooking and dusting and getting out the fine china. Hasn’t had that much interest or energy in years. I swear, if you cut out on me, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  Abbie stared at her. Surely she hadn’t heard Marnie correctly. “I don’t understand.”

  “Didn’t Ervina talk to you yet?”

  “Well, yes, but all she said was I looked back too much and I should be looking ahead. Or something like that.”

  “Well, there you have it. Please stay. Now, finish your coffee and eat some breakfast and come help me in the garden.”

  You can come out now,” Cab said and watched Beau, Silas, and Hadley ease back into the carousel room. The state electrical inspector had just left.

  “We passed.”

  “Hallelujah,” Silas said.

  “Amen to that,” Hadley said.

  “Then let’s start putting the rounding panels back into place,” Beau said. “Cab, you get on my end, Hadley you take the other.”

  “What’re you in such a hurry for?” Silas asked. “Thought we’d take a break and go down to the Tackle Shack for some catfish. Jonesy might even break out some of his applejack in celebration that we’re not gonna burn the place up.”

  “Amen to that,” Cab said. Now if they just passed the safety inspection, they could paint and start moving the animals back to the platform. They might be able to open by summer after all. Cab positioned himself at one edge of the painted panel and motioned for Hadley to take the other end.

  “Don’t have time for that today,” Beau said. “I gotta go make sure the girls haven’t pulled each other’s hair out while I was gone.”

  “They fightin’ again?”

  “Taxes,” Beau said. “Don’t know why Hugo couldn’t’ve taken the damn place when it washed out the pier and the arcade.”

  Hadley took the other side of the panel. “Come on, Beau. What would you have done if Crispin House was destroyed?”

  “I’d’ve taken the insurance money and built me a barbecue place. I’d get Silas here to cook and you to run it for me. We could build in that space where the arcade used to be.”

  “But what would you do?” Cab nodded to Hadley and they lifted the wooden panel.

  Beau frowned and watched them maneuver the panel to the center of the carousel and slide the panel into its frame. Hadley crawled behind and screwed it into place while Silas and Cab held it steady.

  “Me? I think I’d build me a boat . . . and sail away. But don’t tell the sisters. It’s too high up on your end, Silas.”

  Silas let the panel slip down a fraction of an inch. “Nobody’s stopping you from selling it.”

  “I know and if I could sell it without it going to some greedy bastard, I might do it. But the way those developers are swarmin’ around, I know that they’d gobble it up bit by bit if they had to. And build a golf course, and where the hell would any of us be? Where you gonna live, Silas, if that happens?”

  “They already took my place of business; they’ll hafta carry me out in my coffin ’fore they take my home.”

  Hadley slapped Beau on the back. “Don’t worry, there’s always the next hurricane.”

  They all laughed and went back to work. But when the panels were hung and Silas and Hadley had left, and Beau had returned to his work in the workshop, Cab thought about what he’d said.

  If Cab had the money, he might consider buying Crispin House, himself. It had great bones in spite of the neglect it had suffered. But they could get millions for it. Hell, they could get millions for a couple of quarter-acre border properties. He didn’t have millions. And by the time he finished refurbishing the carousel, he would have less than squat.

  And like Beau and his barbecue place, as soon as it was up and running, Cab would find someone to run it for him. He’d go back to work, in Stargazey Point if he could pull it off. That way he could keep an eye on the carousel, tinker with it in his spare time while he made a living at his second passion, restoration.

  The twins were waiting for Abbie when she reached the center early that afternoon. They were sitting on the steps on either side of Ervina, huddled against her like two appendages. Their faces lit up when they saw Abbie. Ervina shooed them away and struggled to her feet.

  Abbie looked from Ervina to the twins. “Shouldn’t you two be in school?”

  Two slow unison head shakes.

  “They’re sick . . .” Ervina said.

  Dani and Joe looked up at Abbie with such hangdog looks that she could barely keep from laughing out loud.

  “But it ain’t catchin’,” Joe blurted out.

  Ervina snorted, straightened her faded shirtwaist. “Now, we don’t know that for sure. They sick with longin’ for someone to take an interest in them.”

  “I see.” Abbie rubbed her chin like a television doctor. “I think I know just what to do.” />
  “What’s that?” Dani asked warily.

  “We don’t want no med’cine,” Joe added and made a spitting noise.

  “How about a trip to a carousel? We can get started on the carousel history. I don’t think Cab will mind if we come early, do you, Ervina?”

  Ervina smiled. “I don’t think he’ll mind at all. You chil’run behave,” she said and walked off down the street.

  Abbie opened the door to the center. Of course it was unlocked. She’d come early with the intention of looking over the equipment, seeing what actually worked and what could be repaired, but that would have to wait.

  She got the video cam off the shelf. Looked for an empty video cartridge and called the twins over to learn how to load the camera. It was simple, just pop the cassette in and push the button to close. Still, it took each of them several tries before managing to get through all the steps correctly.

  She’s learned early on that if you did things for people instead of teaching them how, they ended up letting you do it for them and forgetting how as soon as you left.

  She sat down hard, staring at the video camera.

  “Miss Abbie, what’s the matter?” Dani tugged at her T-shirt.

  “What? Nothing, Dani. I’m fine. I was just teaching myself a lesson.”

  “Huh?”

  “Like learnin’ to put in the tape?”

  “Exactly, Joe. Like putting in a tape.” Or getting your life back on track. Who did she think would do it for her, if not herself? What the hell was she waiting for? And why had it taken her so long to figure it out?

  She checked to make sure the tape was empty then herded the two outside. As soon as they reached the porch they ran toward the carousel.

  “Wait a minute, you two. You’re getting ahead of yourselves.” They ran back to her.

  “We’re going to tell a story about the carousel, right?”

  Two simultaneous nods.

  “So where does a story start?”

  “You messin’ with us. It starts at the beginning.”

  “So where are we going to start the carousel story?”

  “Front door,” Dani said and grinned.

  “Right.” She’d leave establishing shots and camera angles for the older kids.

  There was a squabble over who was going first. A quick game of rock, paper, scissors ended the debate.

  She opened the lens wide, then knelt down behind Dani who placed the camera on her knees like Abbie had shown her.

  “Okay, Dani, find your picture in the viewer. Got it? Okay. Gently push the red button.”

  Dani pushed the button.

  “Cut. That means stop taping. Now, Joe, you’re going to take a picture of the door to the carousel.”

  “Can we go inside now?”

  “Yes,” Abbie said.

  The two children took off at a run.

  “But wait until Cab says it’s okay to go in.”

  They skidded to a stop at the plywood door. It was ajar, and their heads disappeared inside. Then the rest of them.

  Abbie hurried after them. “Hey, you two, what did I say?”

  They were jumping around Cab, pulling at him, begging for him to show them the horses. He looked over their heads at Abbie.

  “I’m sorry. I told them to wait.”

  “We are waitin’,” Joe said.

  “We asked p’litely,” Dani added, looking suddenly wary.

  When Abbie stepped toward them, Dani stepped back, knocking up against Cab. Abbie stopped, squatted down. “I’m sure you did,” she said softly. “But there are a lot of things that can hurt you in here. Sharp and pointed things,” she clarified to let them know it wouldn’t be Cab or her or Beau. “Besides, if you’re going to tell the story of the carousel . . .”

  “You have to start at the beginning,” Dani said.

  “We done the beginnin’ already,” Joe groused. “I wanna see the horses.”

  A voice echoed from the open door to the workshop. “I need a strong boy to help me with something.”

  “That’s me,” Joe said. “That’s me.” He jumped up and down. “That’s me.”

  “I don’t know,” said Cab. “Better let me see your muscle.”

  Joe pulled up the sleeve of his T-shirt and made a muscle. His arm was so skinny that Abbie’s throat tightened.

  Cab bent over and felt the muscle. “I guess you’re right, Joe. That’s some muscle. It must be you.”

  “I got a muscle, too.” Dani held up an even skinnier arm for him to inspect.

  “You do have a big muscle,” Cab said and looked over her to Abbie for help.

  “We need a strong girl in here for something else.”

  Dani made a face at her brother.

  “We both strong,” Joe said.

  “They have to be,” Cab said under his breath. “Okay, Joe, go straight back to Beau and don’t touch anything on the way. Can you do that?”

  Joe nodded, and Abbie noticed that Dani nodded, too.

  Joe walked carefully across the room with the others watching.

  “Beau will take it from here,” Cab said, standing up.

  “What about me?” Dani asked.

  “You get to decide what to film next.”

  Dani chewed on her lip and looked around. Looked back at Abbie and shrugged.

  “Well, what do you do after you come inside?”

  “Dun’no.”

  “What do you need before you can go on any ride?”

  “Ticket,” Dani exclaimed.

  Abbie looked around the half-finished room. “Ticket booth?” she asked Cab.

  “Uh, demolished,” Cab said apologetically. “But I can show you where the booth was, and when we build the new one, you can film that, too. Before and after. Oh, hell. Get the camera ready.”

  Abbie readied the camera while Cab walked over to the entrance.

  “Action,” he said.

  Dani and Abbie grinned at each other. The video camera rolled.

  “This is the former site of the Stargazey Carousel ticket booth. It was destroyed by a hurricane. But the new booth will stand where its predecessor stood. Right here.”

  “Say ‘come an’ get yo’ tickets,’ Mr. Cab,” Dani mumbled from behind the lens.

  Abbie broke into a grin. A director in the making.

  Cab looked mulish for a second, then took a breath. “Tickets, tickets, come get your tickets for the carousel.”

  “Cut,” Abbie said.

  Dani released the record button. “You did that good, Mr. Cab. I’m proud of you.”

  “Why, thank you, Dani. I aim to please.”

  “Now what do we take pictures of?”

  “That’s all for today. You need to save something for the others.”

  “Aw, Miss Abbie.”

  “It’s getting late, and everyone will be here soon. And we need to get started on our storyboard.”

  “Storyboard. What’s that?”

  “I’ll show you when we get back to the center.”

  They collected Joe from the back. At the door Abbie stopped. “Thanks again for letting us do this, and thanks for being such a good sport about the tickets.”

  “Not a problem.” That smile again.

  “Come on, Miss Abbie. We’re ready to make that board thing.”

  They met the other children filing up the steps to the community center. Sarah
had left a message saying she’d be late. Jerome had a night class. Abbie was on her own.

  “We gonna make a board thing today,” Dani announced.

  “What’s a board thing?”

  “I wanna make one.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Okay,” said Abbie. “We’re going to make a giant board thing.”

  They had a quick snack, then all settled down in the media room, where Abbie explained what a storyboard was, and how filmmakers used it to tell a story. “It’s like a big comic book, only ours will be on the wall.”

  It took most of the afternoon, but by the time everyone left for the evening, they had covered one wall in a black-taped grid of uneven squares and squiggly lines and a big sign that read board thing.

  It was getting late, and only Kyle and the twins were left. She settled them down at the media room work counter with video math games, while she made an inventory of the equipment. It was primitive, and some of it didn’t work at all. Even the Scotch tape she’d tried to use wouldn’t stick. They’d ended up making the storyboard with electrical tape she borrowed from the carousel.

  She heard the front door open. “We’re in here,” Abbie called. “Jerome’s here. Go get your backpacks. He’ll drop you off, Kyle. I don’t want you walking alone at night.”

  Dani and Joe slid off the stools and started toward the door. Then they stopped, slowly pressed into each other.

  A man was standing in the doorway. But it wasn’t Jerome. Abbie had never seen him before. But when she saw the twins cowering in the doorway, their eyes round and frightened, she knew who he was. Their abusive, drunken uncle, Eddie Price.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, coming forward briskly, and easing herself in front of the twins.

  He didn’t answer just peered at her through bloodshot eyes for a second before lifting a threatening hand. “Came to get them children. You come on now.” He could barely stand he was so drunk. And the smell of alcohol and unwashed body was enough to make her gag.