The Strangers on Montagu Street

by Karen White

His eyes darkened as he regarded me. Quietly, he said, “I knew you’d say that.”

  I swallowed thickly. “But those are two-person kayaks, and Alston’s already here.”

  He looked pointedly at me. “Do you have plans this morning?”

  I’d anticipated a quiet morning to organize my closet, something I hadn’t had a chance to do yet since moving in. And the grout in my bathroom wasn’t as white as I’d like, and I’d planned to attack it with an old toothbrush and bleach. Neither of which would constitute “plans” to Jack.

  “Not really,” I said. “But I don’t like deep water.”

  “You’ll be wearing a life jacket.”

  “But what if it falls off?”

  He grinned his trademark grin, as effective as him picking me up and putting me in the kayak. “I’ll be there to save you.”

  I was working on my next protest when Nola and Alston came down the stairs, their physical appearances as different from each other as possible, but both of them moving with the same lanky stroll, with arms and legs that seemed too long for them.

  “Good morning, Nola.” Jack smiled, a different smile from what I was used to. It was a genuine smile not intended to charm or coerce—I could tell by the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled—but there was uncertainty in it, too. And that was one thing I’d never seen.

  Alston stepped forward and offered her hand. I wanted to say that I’d never seen such a mature teenager, but I knew I had been just like that at an even earlier age. At least in my case it was because I knew at least one person in my family needed to be an adult.

  “Good morning, Mr. Trenholm. I’m Alston Ravenel. My mother told me to say hi. We both love your books.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Cecily Ravenel, but you probably knew her when she was still Cecily Gibbes.”

  Both eyebrows rose as a secret grin crossed his face. “Ah, yes. CeCe Gibbes. I remember her well.” He paused, my imagination filling in the empty space. “Please give her my best. And before you go home this afternoon, remind me to send you back with an autographed copy of my latest book.”

  “Oh, we already have that one—the one about Napoleon, right? We’re waiting for the new one. When will that be out?”

  Jack’s face hardened almost imperceptibly. “That would be the million-dollar question. I’ve just come back from New York asking the same thing. Unfortunately, I still don’t have an answer, but I promise you that as soon as it comes out, I’ll send over a copy.”

  Alston beamed. “Thanks, Mr. Trenholm. I can’t wait to tell my mother.”

  Jack turned his attention to his daughter. “I’m looking forward to today. It’ll be fun.” He looked at her pale arms, exposed in the white T-shirt with the torn-off sleeves. “Do you have sunscreen? It’ll be hot out on the water, and the reflection will make you burn that much faster.”

  She looked up at the ceiling as if asking for divine guidance. “It’s a little too late for trying to play daddy, don’t you think?”

  Before he had to come up with a response, I walked over to an insulated bag I’d prepared and left on a hall chair. “I’ve got sunscreen and some snacks in here, so not to worry. I’m sure Nola knows she needs to protect her skin. I also stuck in two golf visors Nancy gave me to shade their faces.”

  Nola looked at me in horror. “Not the ones with ‘Fighting Cocks’ on them, right? There’s no way I’m wearing that word on my head.”

  I looked pointedly at the T-shirt she wore, with a disembodied fist making the horn sign demonstrating that she couldn’t be that particular about signage on her clothing.

  Jack looked offended. “Everybody here knows the University of South Carolina’s Fighting Cocks. Now, I wouldn’t go to New York or Los Angeles wearing that on your head, but here it’s pretty much mandatory. Even your mom had a T-shirt or two.”

  Nola scowled. “And look where that got her.” She brushed past us and out the door.

  Jack stared after her for a long moment, and I figured he must have been trying to get the look of desperation out of his eyes, because only a little bit remained when he turned back to me. “We’ll wait out on the porch while you’re getting changed.”

  “Actually, I’m ready to go.”

  “Like that?”

  I tucked in my chin. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

  I knew he wanted to make a comment about my shorts not being short enough, but there were two minors within earshot, luckily. Instead, he said, “You’re wearing pearls.”

  Indicating Alston, I pointed out, “She’s wearing them, too.”

  Alston nodded. “Mama says that a lady doesn’t wear diamonds until after five o’clock unless it’s her engagement ring. It’s still morning. Besides, a lady’s perspiration actually polishes the pearls, so it’s good for them.”

  We both looked at Jack as if that should be enough of an explanation.

  When it appeared that he couldn’t argue with that sound bit of logic, I hoisted the insulated bag and put the strap over my shoulder. “I put a few extra pairs of those pedicure flip-flops in the bag just in case anybody needed waterproof footwear or if they got their sneakers wet.”

  I was relieved to see a flash of humor return to Jack’s eyes. “You’re like a soccer mom. It’s kinda scary.”

  “I like being organized and prepared. Wish there were more people like me.”

  “God forbid,” Jack muttered as he took the insulated bag and held open the door for Alston and me.

  We stood on the dock behind the kayak rental at Shem Creek with white streaks of sunscreen striping our cheeks and arms. Alston had been the one to convince Nola that she needed it, and I’d had to do the same thing with Jack. I pointed out that he should be a good example to Nola, and that was all the coercing I’d needed to do. Apparently the apple didn’t fall far from the Trenholm family tree.

  The man assigned as our guide, Lew, began handing out the bright orange life vests to the people on the dock, assessing the kayakers for size with practiced eyes. There were several groups bunched together to get outfitted before going on their respective tours, and I had somehow managed to end up at the rear of the line. When Lew reached me, he paused. “We’re out of adult vests, but I think this children’s one should fit you.”

  I heard a snort behind me, and I turned to find both Nola and Jack smirking at me. Alston had the decency to look away as if she hadn’t just overheard that humiliating exchange. I grabbed the offensive life jacket and put it on, trying to remember what Lew had told us about how to fasten all the straps correctly.

  “Can I help?”

  Even though Jack’s eyes were partially hidden behind sunglasses, I imagined I could see them laughing. “No. I think I’d rather it fall off and me drown, thanks.”

  “Suit yourself.” He moved over to Alston and Nola, who’d done a pretty good job of strapping themselves in, and Jack just had to tighten and test the snugness and fastenings. When he turned back to me, I’d managed to converge all the straps into the front in one massive knot.

  “Still don’t want my help?”

  I looked around for Lew, but he was busy with a couple of newlyweds who’d somehow managed—intentionally or not—to attach their life jackets together. Giving one last ineffectual tug at the knot, I said, “Go ahead. But if it falls off I’m claiming in the lawsuit that it was intentional.”

  Softly, so I was the only one who could hear him, he said, “It’s not a life jacket I’d want to make fall off, Mellie. Now come stand a little closer so I can fix this for you. I promise I won’t bite.”

  We stood facing each other, practically nose-to-nose, as he fiddled with the straps on my jacket. I could feel his breath on my face, and the heat of his body, and for an awful moment thought that I might actually swoon. As soon as he was finished I backed away, wondering whether I might already be in menopause to at least explain the powerful hot flash I’d just experienced.

  “Thanks,” I said quickly, as I began to make my
way to the line where everybody was being handed oars. I stood next to Alston. “So I guess it’s you and me, since it’s two to a boat.”

  “No way,” said Nola. “I’m going with Alston. You get to go with my dad.”

  I sneaked a sidewise glance at Jack to see whether he looked hurt, but his expression remained relaxed. I assumed his military training had prepared him for dealing with a teenager assault.

  “Fine,” he said with a smile. “Your loss. It’s a well-known fact that I can’t go anywhere on the water without dolphins swimming right up to me. Apparently they love me.”

  “Really?” Alston asked as she prepared to get into their kayak.

  Nola sent her friend a disdainful look. “Please. My mom told me that men will make up anything to impress you.” She accepted the guide’s hand and stepped into the back of the kayak.

  Alston looked at Jack, who just shrugged, as she sat on the front seat and gripped her oar.

  Jack took my arm and led me to the next-loading boat. “You sit up front. Just be careful getting in. I wouldn’t want you to fall in the water, because I can’t swim.”

  I looked back at him in alarm, only to see him grinning broadly. Wanting to wipe it off his face, I said, “I hope my oar doesn’t accidentally slip out of the water and knock you overboard. I’d never see your body floating away.”

  There were only four kayaks in our small group, one with the guide and the last one with the newlyweds, who seemed oblivious to everything but each other. We headed out into Charleston Harbor, where we could see Fort Sumter looming like a mirage off in the distance.

  “What’s that?” Nola asked, pointing to the Civil War landmark.

  Jack answered. “That’s Fort Sumter, where the first shots of the War of Northern Aggression were fired.”

  “The what?”

  Alston tried to hide her smile as Jack explained. “It’s what the rest of the world calls the Civil War. In polite Charleston society, it can also be called ‘the Late Unpleasantness.’”

  Nola frowned until Alston said, “He’s joking, Nola. We haven’t called it that for at least fifteen years.”

  Nola rolled her eyes and firmly gripped her oar. The girls struggled a bit at first, unsure as to how much strength each one was putting into each stroke of the oar, or what direction they needed to turn. They ended up ramming into our kayak a couple of times, and I couldn’t tell whether it was intentional or not. They hit the newlyweds and the guide only once each. But each time, Jack calmly offered suggestions, coaching them in a gentle and helpful way that even I couldn’t find fault with. After the first few scowls, Nola began to accept her father’s instructions, and soon the girls were commanding their kayak on their own with very few mishaps.

  Watching their struggles made me notice how easily Jack and I controlled our own kayak. We slid smoothly through the water, instinctively knowing when and how much to push, when to turn right or left, when to speed up or slow down. I only hoped Jack hadn’t noticed it, too.

  “We’ve got a great rhythm going on, Mellie. Like we’ve been doing this forever.”

  “Hm,” I said, paying great interest to Lew as we drew up to a rookery where hundreds of birds, including blue herons and brown pelicans, speckled the sky and took turns huddling and flying, squawking in alarm as we approached. The smell of all those bird droppings nearly made me gag, and I wanted to tell the birds that their squawks were completely unnecessary, as the smell alone would keep me—and most other sane humans—away.

  Jack continued, his voice low so the other kayakers couldn’t hear us. “It’s like our bodies can communicate telepathically to move in the right direction for optimum momentum. We’re like two spoons in a drawer.”

  “More like two negative ends on separate magnets,” I muttered as I stabbed an oar into the water and let it drag, effectively making us turn in a circle. I faced him. “Do you talk like this to Rebecca?”

  His eyes were cool behind his sunglasses. “Actually, no.”

  Flustered, I turned around and saw that the three other kayaks had moved beyond us, closer to the rookery.

  “I miss you, Mellie.”

  I began paddling, feeling a heavy drag, and knew he was letting me go it alone. “I’m right here, Jack. And we see each other all the time.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it. We’re not through, you know.”

  “I don’t think Rebecca would be happy to hear that.”

  He didn’t respond, and I didn’t turn around to see his expression. I startled as a sleek gray body glided by just under the surface of the water, parallel to our kayak.

  “Is that a dolphin?” I asked, incredulous.

  Jack’s dimple showed as he grinned. “Yep.”

  I shook my head, staring into the dark gray waves as tiny bubbles rushed to the surface. “I bet she’s female,” I muttered.

  “Nola! Alston!” Jack called, getting the girls’ attention, then motioning for them to come closer.

  Nola looked skeptical as she glanced at me, so I mouthed the word “dolphin” so she’d understand. They began to paddle closer to us; then Jack held up his hand when their kayak was about twenty feet from us, the spot where I’d first seen the dolphin between us.

  “Come on, baby,” Jack said quietly, his eyes searching the water. Five seconds later, not more than four feet from the front of Nola’s kayak, two sleek gray backs with dorsal fins arched out of the water in a synchronized leap, landing with enough of a splash to drench Nola and Alston.

  Nola jerked back, laughing hard, then pulled her legs up to a half stand so she could see better.

  I heard Jack behind me. “Don’t stand in the . . .”

  Again, the two dolphins jumped from the water, a little farther away this time, but surprising Nola enough that she stumbled backward, grasping air, and then tumbled neatly into the water headfirst.

  Jack was in the water at nearly the same moment and swimming toward her. Nola stayed on the surface, thanks to her life vest, but she must have inhaled a good deal of water, because she started coughing violently, gasping for breath in between her coughs.

  With practiced and controlled movements, Jack came up from behind her and held her head back and out of the water until her coughing had mostly subsided. Then Nola started making an odd sound, and I wondered whether she was trying to cry or shout or scream at Jack. Instead, I saw that she was grinning broadly in a grin that wildly resembled her father’s.

  “That was a freaking dolphin!” Oblivious to the fact that she and her father were treading water in the open sea, she craned her head back to see her friend. “Did you see that, Alston? Two dolphins!”

  After several attempts to hoist Nola back onto the kayak without rolling it and Alston into the water, Jack finally managed to hold the boat steady long enough for Nola to seat herself inside. He then swam back to our kayak and, after a few harrowing near rolls—which I thought he was doing on purpose to torment me—managed to reseat himself behind me.

  Alston wiped the wet hair out of her face. “The dolphins were pretty cool. How did you do that, Mr. Trenholm?”

  Nola regarded her father without the usual scowl. “Yeah, Jack, how did you do that?”

  He picked up his oar and stuck it up in the air as a signal to Lew that we were fine and ready to move on. “I told you that I can’t go out on the water without seeing a dolphin.” He dipped the oar into the water and pushed. “Like I said, I always mean what I say.”

  I stabbed my oar into the water, feeling my cheeks warm as I realized he wasn’t talking about the dolphins anymore.

  CHAPTER 10

  I sat in one of the low black leather chairs at Fabulous Frocks on Church Street, an upscale consignment bridal salon, watching as Sophie twirled in front of me wearing a white silk-and-chiffon concoction with delicate beading on the bodice and a train that would have made Princess Diana proud. Maybe it was the worn brown Birkenstocks peeping out from beneath the hem or Sophie’s wild array of braids sprout
ing from her head, but despite the beauty of the dress it just looked . . . wrong.

  I looked over at Nola, expecting her to be picking at her nail polish or texting on her new cell phone, but instead found her sitting on the edge of her seat, studying Sophie and the consultant, Gigi, with close interest.

  “OMG. This is just like Say Yes to the Dress! You know, like when the bride walks out in the dress and everybody’s watching her? Alston is just going to die when I tell her. Except in this case, Dr. Wallen, you should definitely be saying no. You look like a poodle at one of those dog shows.”

  Gigi and I both blinked silently at Nola, maybe because we were grateful to her for voicing our thoughts out loud, but unsure whether we should saying anything about comparing the prospective bride to a toy dog breed.

  Gigi smiled helpfully. “I once had a bride try on eighty-six gowns before she found the One. You’ll know it when you see it, sugar. You will.”

  Eighty-six? We’d suffered through ten try-ons already, and I was starting to think that it was time to ask to be taken outside and beaten senseless rather than face another one. It wasn’t that sitting in the beautiful showroom with its ice blue walls and tall ceilings while surrounded by exquisite gowns was so awful. It was seeing the hopeful look on Sophie’s face change to disappointment each time that was so hard to watch. Sophie was beautiful and . . . unique, and despite Gigi’s best efforts at matching what Sophie thought she wanted in a wedding gown, nothing was working.

  Tears began to well in Sophie’s eyes. “I know. And I appreciate your help. I know this is the place to find my dress—this is the place all my friends have told me has the best wedding dresses—but I just don’t think I can try on any more right now.”

  Gigi raised her hand. “Wait—how about one more? I’d almost forgotten about this one, because it just came in and is still in the office waiting to be steamed and tagged. It’s an antique—nineteen twenties, I think—but it’s satin and very simple and elegant. It was found in the attic in a house over on Queen Street, and the new owners have no use for it. Thought that selling it might help with some of the renovation costs.”