Sam cupped his sweaty cheek. “You had to grow up young, didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t mind. Being your little man around the house made me feel important. And I learned a lot of useful skills.”
“Your future wife will thank me.” Sam looked past him into the backyard. “I’d say Lizbet and Brooke know more about yard work than they’re letting on if that garden is any indication.”
“That’s their mother’s perennial garden, the one thing around here they take care of. You won’t find a single weed in any of the beds or bugs on her roses. Lizbet sells a lot of her flowers at the market.”
Sam walked over to the garden and admired the colorful assortment of perennials. “They’re lovely,” she said, bending over to sniff a rose.
Jamie planted his hands on his hips. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”
“I have something I need to talk to you about. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure. But let’s get something to drink first. I’m dying of thirst,” he said as he started toward the house.
Sam followed him inside to the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator and stuck his head inside. The cold air felt refreshing against his skin. “Lemonade or sweet tea?”
“I’ll just have water. I drank enough tea at lunch to fill the Boston Harbor.”
He filled two glasses of water from the faucet and handed one to his mother. He guzzled his down and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Do you think your roommates will mind if I look around?” Without waiting for an answer, Sam took herself on a self-guided tour of the downstairs. “Their mother had a special touch. Can I see your room?” She peered over his shoulder at the stairs behind him.
“No, Mom! I don’t think Liz and Brooke would appreciate my mother snooping around their house when they’re not here.”
“Too bad,” she said, heading up the stairs. “A mother likes to be able to picture her son in his surroundings.”
“Fine, but hurry,” he called after her. “Take a right at the top of the stairs. First room on the left.”
He waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. His mother was not a nosy person by nature. She typically respected other people’s privacy. What was the real motive behind her visit? Was she hoping to find evidence that he and Liz were sleeping together? They weren’t, but he hoped they would soon. He hadn’t experienced such a close bond with anyone since Cory died. Almost every night, they talked well into the morning hours without ever running out of things to say. They shared so many of the same interests and they wanted the same things out of life—a family, a meaningful career, and a laid-back lifestyle, preferably on the water.
To his mother’s credit, she didn’t stay upstairs long. “Now I can envision where you lay your sweet little head on the pillow at night,” she said, mussing his hair when she came back downstairs.
“Yeah. So Mom, you mentioned you needed to talk to me about something. I’m curious why you’re in Charleston? And I can’t remember the last time I saw you wearing a dress, except of course for church. What’s going on, Mom?”
Her face grew serious. “Is there somewhere we can sit down?”
He led the way out onto the porch, and they sat down side by side on the bench swing.
“Annie and Heidi invited me to lunch today,” Sam said, crossing her legs. “As you’re already aware, they are interested in opening a sandwich shop at Sweeney’s. I have to admit their enthusiasm is contagious. But I would feel better about it if I knew we’d eventually receive some sort of settlement from the insurance company.”
Jamie had given his mother’s financial situation a lot of thought. He hoped to get married one day and have a family. Selfishly, he wanted his mother to maintain her financial independence. “I would too, Mom. Honestly, I hate the idea of you using your rainy day mad money.”
She furrowed her brows. “That’s not exactly the response I was hoping for.”
He looked away, watching a pack of adolescent boys cycle down the road and drop their bikes haphazardly in the front yard of the house next door. The brothers who lived next door reminded him of himself at that age, when Cory and he had been inseparable.
“Sorry, Mom, but it’s the truth. What if you and Eli want to travel when you get older or buy a sailboat and cruise around the world? What if, God forbid, one of you gets sick? Any number of things could happen. We can’t predict the future. Knowing you have Mack’s money to fall back on gives me peace of mind. It should you too.”
His mother fell silent and a faraway look appeared on her face. “I hear what you’re saying, and I agree with you to a certain extent. But with or without the sandwich shop, I have every reason to believe the market will perform as well as, if not better than, before the fire. We’ve been killing ourselves these past two years, barely able to fulfill all our catering orders on major holidays. The bigger kitchen will allow us to hire more staff and work more efficiently. If the sandwich shop fails, we’ll rent the room for ladies’ luncheons and bridge clubs and office parties. If that doesn’t work, we’ll seal up the wall that separates the two areas and lease it out to another business. With Faith and Lovie out of the picture, the market will only have to provide for you and me. Which means we can pay off our debt quicker. My question to you is, are you still interested in coming to work for me?”
His jaw dropped open. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you seem so happy here.” She uncrossed her legs and shifted on the swing to face him. “I’m glad you’ve gotten a chance to spread your wings. I’ve always worried you would never experience the world outside of Prospect. If this is what you want, I’ll back you up one hundred percent.”
“I considered living in Charleston for about a minute when I first started working for Heidi.” He hung his head, staring into his lap. He wasn’t ready to admit to his mother that his attraction was more about the girl than the place. “But this city is crowded and expensive, and there’s no real future for me here. The market is saturated with excellent restaurants. The best I could ever hope for would be to manage one of those restaurants. There’s nothing wrong with that, but it’s not right for me. I want more out of life. And what happened with Sean yesterday made me realize how important my family is to me.”
“I hate pressuring you, son. I wish you had more time to be absolutely certain that this is what you want, but whether or not you’re committed to Sweeney’s impacts my decision greatly.”
“I can tell you right here and right now”—he tapped the arm of the swing—“with absolute certainty that I’m moving home to Prospect after graduation. I think buying the stationery store would give us a chance to put Captain Sweeney’s Seafood on the list of hot places to visit in the South. Annie’s the bomb, Mom. I’m telling you, she’s determined to make a name for herself one way or another. I think joining forces with Heidi and Annie is a no-brainer.
“But I can’t make the decision about you using your retirement fund. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you and you needed that money and didn’t have it. You and I have been through too much to take anything for granted.”
Sam was silent for a long time after he finished talking. Finally she rubbed his thigh and thanked him for his honesty. “Your perspective has given me much to think about.”
“Why don’t you show the bank our finances from the past few years and talk to the architect about the possibility of throwing the stationery store in the mix? Do some more investigating before you make your decision.”
Sam exhaled a deep breath. “You’re right. Even if it means delaying construction, I need to be comfortable with my decision.”
Sawyer’s white Land Rover pulled up to the curb. She was still dressed in surgical scrubs. With shoulders slumped, she trudged up the sidewalk. Who knew when she’d last slept?
Jamie introduced his third roommate to his mother, and they exchanged pleasantries. Sawyer wasn’t a head turner like
Brooke, but she was equally pretty in a more subtle way. Today, though, she just looked tired.
“Did you work a double shift?” Jamie asked, and then explained to Sam, “Sawyer is in the pediatric residency program at MUSC.”
“I had a patient in surgery.” Sawyer collapsed onto the love seat. “I didn’t want to leave until she got out.”
“Is she okay?” Jamie asked.
“She will be eventually. You wouldn’t believe this kid.” Sawyer’s face lit up. “Eight years old. Total tomboy with short dark hair and piercing blue eyes that look straight through you. She was brought in by rescue squad yesterday afternoon. She’d chased her kitten up a tree and fallen onto the pavement from a really high branch. Her body was a mess. She had a number of broken bones and a concussion. Her little face was scrunched up in pain, but she never once cried. She went into shock while they were stitching up a laceration on her forehead. Our trauma team discovered internal bleeding and rushed her into surgery.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie noticed his mother sitting perfectly still with her hand pressed to her mouth as she listened to Sawyer’s story.
“I saw her just now in recovery,” Sawyer continued. “I told her how brave she was and asked her if she was scared. You wouldn’t believe her answer. She said, ‘Heck yeah, I was scared. I’m only eight years old. I don’t want to die. I just started living. But I knew God wanted me to fight, and he would take care of me no matter what. So I concentrated on fighting and let him do the rest.’”
Jamie glanced at his mother and saw a tear rolling down her cheek. He gave her a half hug. He knew she was remembering his accident and how close he’d come to dying.
“Thank you for sharing your story. That’s an eight-year-old I’d like to meet,” Sam said, rummaging through her bag for a tissue.
“A lot of our patients are tough like that.” Sawyer spoke with a faraway look in her eye. “They have to be to survive. They’re so young, but the funny thing is, I’m learning so much about life from them.” She hung her head. “I’m sorry to be so dismal when we’ve only just met.”
“Not at all. You’ve had a tough day. I’m glad you felt comfortable sharing it with us.” Sam nudged Jamie. “I really should be going, so you can get back to your yard work.”
“Okay, Mom.” Jamie slid off the swing and pulled her to her feet. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Sawyer. My son is a lucky young man, having three lovely ladies for roommates.”
“We’re the lucky ones.” Sawyer rose slowly off the sofa and wrapped her fingers around Jamie’s bicep. “It’s nice to have a strong man around to do the heavy lifting,” she said, and they all laughed.
Sam and Jamie walked down the steps and rounded the house to the driveway.
“We can all learn a valuable lesson from that little girl,” his mother said as she climbed into her Jeep. “God gives us life, and we owe it to him to give that life everything we’ve got.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
Faith
As Faith had expected she might, her mother took a turn for the worse after the Memorial Day disaster at Moss Creek Farm. Lovie appeared agitated all the time. She hardly slept, barely ate, and fought Faith at every turn. She was becoming increasingly incontinent, and Faith found herself faced with tasks she’d never dreamed she have to perform. She’d made a terrible error in judgment in thinking she could take care of her mother at home. She was ready to admit she was in over her head, but there was no one around to admit it to. Sam was deep in discussions with her architect about the designs for the new market. And Jackie had taken Sean to Charleston to register for summer school at the college. Although they might be back in town by now. Sean would be getting ready for Saturday’s farmers’ market. She’d give Jackie a call later.
Bitsy had been out of sorts since the party as well. Today was her last day of school. She’d gone home with her friend Chloe Cook, who was having a few of their girlfriends over for an end-of-the-year swimming party in their pool. Faith couldn’t pawn her daughter off on friends all summer, any more than she could expect Bitsy to sit around the house while her mother took care of a grumpy old woman who didn’t recognize her. Faith considered begging Irene Davidson for another chance, but she knew she lacked the courage for the job. The image of her mother’s terrified face when she’d tried to leave her at Creekside Manor last week haunted her at night.
“Let’s face it, I’m a spineless wimp,” Faith said to Snowflake, who lay on the floor beside her feet as she folded yet another load of laundry.
Even if she was able to arrange for Jackie to make the drop-off, today was Friday, and nothing would happen before the weekend. Which would make for a long two days of taking care of her mother’s needs. She longed to spend the weekend with her husband and daughter out on the boat or at the beach.
To add to her angst, the hang-ups had started again on Tuesday morning. The phone had rung all day long until late that afternoon, when Curtis finally spoke to her. “I want to see my daughter, Faith, and you can’t stop me. Watch your back. I’m coming for you.”
She immediately called Eli, who contacted Emmett Reyes, who assured them that Curtis was currently at his job on a highway paving crew in Columbia. The phone calls had stopped, and she’d received no word from him since. The eerie silence was almost worse.
Eli stopped by several times a day to check on her, which brought her some comfort. Her doorbell would ring as though she’d used otherworldly powers to summon him. While she appreciated his dutiful visits, she sometimes resented the interruption—like now. She wanted to finish with the laundry before her mother stirred from her nap. She flung open the door, expecting to see Eli on her door stoop. But there stood Curtis instead. Before her brain could register his sudden appearance, he shoved her backward and slammed and locked the door behind him. “I want to see my daughter.”
His time in prison had not served him well. He’d lost weight, if it was even possible for him to be any skinnier. Lines were etched on his face, and the top of his head was practically bald now. His teeth had yellowed, and she noticed he was missing his top left incisor. His dark eyes, once wild from anger and excessive drinking, had grown cold and hard in prison, full of pure hate.
Faith gulped. “She’s not here.”
“Don’t lie to me, bitch. I know for a fact that she only had a half day of school today.”
Faith experienced a rush of adrenaline. She refused to let this monster destroy her life again. She took slow steps backward as she calculated the distance to the console table on her right. She envisioned the bronze statue of the little girl with bare feet Mike had bought for her from a friend’s art gallery because he said it reminded him of Bitsy. She sensed an object in Curtis’s right hand, but she didn’t dare look to see what it was. From the position of his arm, elbow bent and hand near his shoulder, she concluded it was a knife and not a gun.
The console table appeared in her peripheral vision. In one swift motion, she grabbed hold of the bronze statue and crashed it against her ex-husband’s skull. He stumbled backward, but she didn’t wait to see if he fell. She took off at a sprint down the hall, praying her mother would sense the danger and stay in her room. When she reached her bedroom at the end of the hall, she slammed and locked the door. She was grateful she’d purchased the gun safe with the quick-access digital lock. She removed it from the top shelf of her closet and, willing her hands to stop shaking, wrapped her fingers around the metal pistol handle. She heard a door click shut in the hallway and envisioned Curtis going from room to room looking for Bitsy. She couldn’t let him get to her mother. She threw open her bedroom door and marched down the hall toward him.
He eyed the gun in her hand with a condescending sneer. “Put the gun away, Faith. You and I both know you don’t have the guts to shoot me.”
“Like hell I don’t. I’ve been taking lessons to sharpen my skills. Thanks to my daddy, I’m a pretty good shot.” She aimed the gu
n at his left shoulder and pulled the trigger.
His eyes grew wide, but he barely grimaced at the pain. When he raised his right arm, she saw that the object in his hand was a switchblade. He charged her and she pulled the trigger a second time, shooting him slightly left of his sternum. His knees buckled and he dropped to the ground, a large pool of blood spreading from beneath his body.
The sound of Eli banging and shouting at the front door snapped her out of her trance. She dropped the gun and rushed to let him in. She flew into his arms, sobbing hysterically. “I killed him, Eli! Oh my God. I shot him dead.”
Gripping her by the shoulders, Eli shook her until he got her attention. “We need to be certain he’s dead, Faith. Where is he?”
She pointed at the body on the floor at the other end of the hall.
Eli called for backup on his radio and removed his gun from his shoulder holster. “Don’t move,” he said, but she followed him down the hall anyway. He knelt beside the body and felt for his pulse. “He’s dead all right.” He stood to face her. “Who else is in the house? Where are Bitsy and Lovie?”
“Bitsy’s at a friend’s swimming party. Mom was taking a nap. Surely she heard the commotion. Thankfully, she had enough sense to stay in her room.” As the words left her lips, her stomach rolled and she suddenly had trouble breathing. In her confused mental state, Lovie would not have had the sense to stay in her room. “Something’s wrong.” She crossed the hall to her mother’s room. She opened the door, and afraid she might wake her, she tiptoed to the side of the bed. But as she stared down into her mother’s peaceful face, she feared Lovie would never again wake up.
Eli was at her side, searching for a pulse and calling for an ambulance. “She’s breathing. That’s a good sign.”
#
The ensuing hours passed in a blur. The crew of EMTs offered little encouragement as they rushed her mother off to the hospital in their ambulance. Eli made the necessary phone calls—to Sam, who left her meeting with the architect to go straight to the hospital, and to Mike, who arrived home within minutes.
Saturdays at Sweeney's Page 20
