“Well, you won’t have too much longer to be bored,” Edwin said. “We’ll be there tonight in spite of our late start.”
Margaret stared straight ahead. “It really isn’t that far, not in terms of miles anyway.”
Still, it was later than they’d expected when the Fosters continued down the eastbound highway into town. It was black as pitch out, threatening rain. “Being off the interstate really slows you down,” Edwin commented hopefully, but Margaret wasn’t to be deterred.
“Drive by the house, Edwin. I want to see it tonight.”
“Really, Margaret, it’s too dark to see anything. Can’t it wait until morning?”
She didn’t answer and Edwin guided the car down side roads until he thought he was at the right place. He’d barely cut the engine when Margaret opened the door and stepped out of the car. Elise pressed her face to the window, but she couldn’t see too much. It was dark and hot, and the air weighed on them heavy as guilt.
The car door stood open and provided a feeble light as Margaret walked toward the glimmer of white, illuminated by bursts of lightning. Thunder ripped the silence like a drum roll of anticipation, but Margaret didn’t flinch.
Edwin opened his door and stood just inside its embrace, facing the house. “Marking her territory,” he grumbled under his breath before calling out, “Margaret, you can’t see a thing. We didn’t come here for you to be struck by lightning. Let’s come by early in the morning. I’m tired and want a good night’s sleep.”
A loud clap of thunder sent Margaret scurrying for the car. Her foot hit something and she stumbled, catching hold of the car door to keep from falling.
“You okay?” Edwin asked.
“I think so. Felt like I hit a brick. I guess we’d better move on or we’ll get drenched. It’s been months since we saw the place. I’d hoped that real estate agent would have left some lights on.”
“Maybe she hasn’t had the electricity turned on yet.”
“Oh, Edwin, surely you don’t think she hasn’t taken care of that. I can’t believe . . .”
“Well, there’s nothing to be done about it tonight. I have a feeling there’ll be plenty facing us tomorrow so we’d better turn in soon.” He looked over his shoulder to the back seat. “Still with us, Elise?”
“Yes, sir, I’m here.” She continued to sit with her face pressed to the window, hungry for the sight of the house, troubled by its familiarity.
Edwin looked at her through the rearview mirror. “Oh, honey, don’t cry. I know it’s different than anything you’ve known, but it’ll work out. You’ll see.”
Elise was surprised by his tenderness. Most of his exchanges with her were stern, brusque at times to the point of rudeness, but she couldn’t answer. It took all her concentration to control her emotions. She didn’t know why she was crying, why sadness enveloped her like a cloak.
He turned and backed the car around. “Our new life,” he said, “a whole new life.”
Under her breath Margaret muttered, like a prayer, “Please, let it be. I so need a new life.” She looked over her shoulder at Elise. “We have reservations at a restored inn. Edwin and I stayed there when we came down to look for a house. It’s nothing elaborate but clean and comfortable. They even have a small restaurant and bar!”
“And good food,” Edwin added. “In fact, I don’t think you can find anything but good food here. Apalachicola’s famous for its oysters. If they had an Oscar for oysters, Apalach would win hands down.”
“Your father should know. I think he ate oysters prepared every way possible.”
“And I’m ready to start at the beginning of the menu again. There was a guy here, Ed somebody, selling some hot sauce he called an oyster’s best friend. And it was. Makes my mouth water just to think about it. Hope you’ll try ’em, Elise. A real delicacy. Never mealy. Just sweet and juicy.”
Elise wiped her eyes. Wouldn’t you know if he’s enthusiastic over something, it’d be food.
They were hardly inside the inn when it began to rain. It came down in torrents, so loud it created thunder inside as well as out. Elise looked toward the ceiling, and the woman behind the desk smiled. “It’s the tin roof. Creates a thunder all its own.”
“I like it,” Elise declared emphatically and jammed her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.
“You would. I just hope it doesn’t keep me awake,” Margaret said irritably and glared at Elise as though she could control the weather.
Settled in her room, Elise lay awake for hours listening to the storm, thrilling to its threat, and enjoying the safety of a tin roof to shield her.
At eight-thirty the next morning, Margaret sat up in bed wild-eyed, trying to recall where she was. Looking at Edwin’s travel alarm, she couldn’t believe it was so late. “Do you realize, Edwin, that we haven’t slept past six o’clock in years?”
“This is our new life, Margaret. We don’t have to get up if we don’t want to.”
“Well, I want to. I must call that real estate woman and be sure all the utilities have been turned on.”
Edwin pulled the shade back and looked out the window. “Thank goodness the rain stopped. I’d better see if Elise is up. We have a busy day ahead of us.” Edwin knocked on the door to Elise’s room just as she was about to leave.
Elise opened the door and said, “I’m going down for coffee. Okay?”
“Coffee? I’ve never known you to drink a cup of coffee in your life.”
At a loss to explain her sudden craving for coffee, Elise tried to force a smile. “It’s my new life too.”
“Well, sure it is. We’ll join you as soon as we shower and dress.”
Elise had walked a short distance down the hall when she saw an orange tabby cat sleeping on an antique table. As she approached, it raised its head and looked at her. It was nearly like a command to stop, and there was a brief standoff as they stared at each other. Elise felt the drowsiness of a sleepless night wrap her in a dark fog. She closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them, the cat was nowhere in sight.
A FEW HOURS LATER MARGARET stood with her hands on her hips, giving their new home a critical appraisal. “Well, it’s a bit more run-down than I’d remembered, but that’s okay. We have all the time in the world.”
“That we do, my dear. And don’t forget you kept insisting you wanted to get dirty, to roll your sleeves up and work. I think you’ll get your wish.”
“It’s a bit closer to the street than I’m used to, but that seems to be the norm here.” Margaret turned to see Elise walking around like a sleepwalker and called to her. “We’ll have the distinction, Elise, of living in a house that’s listed as a historical site in the National Register. I don’t know why that pleases me so much, but it does. Careful of that stone, Elise,” she cautioned, “I’m told ladies used it when they stepped down from their horse-drawn carriages. I’ll have it taken up right away.”
“No way! Please. It belongs here. Besides, it’s probably in the National Register too.”
“That must be what I stumbled over last night. I just don’t like to think of someone falling over the thing and suing me.”
“But it’s been here so long. Obviously it hasn’t been a problem or it wouldn’t still be here.”
“We can’t worry about it now anyway. The furniture will be here in three days, and we need to be sure we’re ready when it arrives.” At the front door Margaret lifted the doormat. “Just where she told me it’d be.” She held the key high for them to see.
Edwin started to follow her up the steps but turned to look for Elise. She stood in the middle of the yard with a stunned expression on her face. At that moment he realized what a pretty girl she’d become. The sun glinted off her blond hair, and her tank top and shorts flattered her boyish figure.
“It’s okay, Elise,” he said. “It’ll look better soon. A bit of paint will do wonders. You’ll see.”
“It’s a boat.”
“What?”
“The house. It’s a boat. See the shape? It’s like an old river-boat.”
Edwin came back down the steps and looked from one end to the other. “Maybe it is. Yes, I can see that. An old paddle wheeler.”
“Look at all the porch railings, upstairs and down, all the way around the house. I wonder how someone came to build it in the shape of a boat?”
“Damned if I know, Elise, but you’re right. For whatever reason, we’re going to be living in a boat. Wait’ll we tell Margaret,” he said and laughed.
“Don’t tell her! I want to see if she notices.”
“Oh, I think she’ll notice soon enough, but we’ll wait and see. I’d like something to catch her off guard for once.”
Elise tilted her head and looked up at him quizzically.
“I’m joking, but you know how she’s always one step ahead of the rest of us. This is going to be even more fun than I’d imagined.”
It was probably the biggest surprise of her life that Elise was totally captivated by the large two-storied structure. She wasn’t unaware of the fine piece of real estate she’d called home for eighteen years, but it didn’t have the character or history of this exquisite creation. Elise possessed an uncanny ability to sense emotions, but this was the first time she’d felt some knowledge of a building. She shaded her eyes with her hand and was looking at the second floor windows when Edwin called her to come inside. “Your mother’s dying to have you see the place.”
As she stepped over the threshold she felt like a bride. Bride? How can that be? I’ve never even been in love.
“Well, what do you think?” Margaret asked with unconcealed pride.
“Oh!” Elise gasped and held her palm to her chest.
“What in the world’s the matter with you?” Margaret asked irritably.
“Just before I came in, I thought I saw you standing at the upstairs window.”
“Hardly. I may be fast, but I can’t take stairs that quickly.”
“I guess not,” Elise said, looking around.
“Yes or no, Elise. Do you like it?”
“Oh, yes, it’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She looked at Edwin, and he winked. It was more than beautiful. It seemed to possess her.
The wood floors looked recently polished, and while it was dusty and filled with cobwebs, the walls gleamed under new paint. Nearly every room boasted a fireplace, and the ceilings soared skyward, with ornately-carved crown molding highlighting their pale blue color. Several rooms had giant doors that could be pulled together to form walls. Opened, they slid quietly into the ancient recesses of the house. Row after row of French doors opened onto the decks—she couldn’t think of them as porches— and the tall windows framed glass that was old and wavy, creating eerie images of the giant trees that shaded the house.
Her parents ambled slowly to other parts of the house, and though she could hear their voices, she couldn’t tell what they were saying as she drifted aimlessly from room to room, as though swimming underwater, passing through pockets of cold air. Polished steps led down to the spacious living room, and on either side were graceful railings topped with glossy walnut. These were repeated on the winding staircase that led to the second floor. “Fishing village?” she whispered.
When her parents returned from the back of the house, Edwin asked, “Rather grand, isn’t it?”
“Oh, it is. Not at all what I expected from a fishing village.” Margaret bristled. “Surely you didn’t think I’d bought a shack.”
“No, ma’am, but I didn’t expect this either. It’s awesome.”
“Well, thank you. I don’t recall your ever giving a compliment freely. I always felt I had to beg for your approval of my decorating.”
“Your decorating?” Elise laughed, not unkindly. “Oh, Mom, I don’t think so. But I do credit you with the very good taste to have bought it.” She turned slowly, her arms outstretched. “It’s just that this is so different, like a living, breathing thing.”
“Oh, God, Elise, don’t start that,” her dad said.
She felt the chill of his words, the tenderness gone, replaced by the old, familiar fear.
“No nonsense now. None of those strange ideas you get at times. Let’s help your mother get this place in shape.”
Elise had seldom seen her mother with a broom in her hands and wondered how the manicure would survive. She was accustomed to seeing Margaret in business suits, dealing with legal pads and telephones, but true to her word, Margaret Foster was getting dirty.
One morning Elise saw Margaret standing at the edge of the yard, shading her eyes with her hand. She was looking back at the house. When she came inside she said to no one in particular, “This house is built in the shape of a boat.”
Edwin walked up and laid a hand on Elise’s shoulder. “We wondered when you’d notice.”
Margaret shot them a dirty look. “Well I’m sure I would have noticed a lot sooner if I hadn’t been so busy trying to clean the place.”
Edwin tried to find help, but the three of them ended up doing most of the cleaning themselves. They hired someone to clean the outside windows and do some yard work, but the inside was all theirs. By the time the moving van arrived, Margaret had gotten dirty, sweated, and discovered that she felt older, not younger, from the effort. She kept that bit of information to herself, though.
Their fountain of youth, Edwin confided to Elise, was proving to be more like a bucket of sweat, but the day finally came when they could move out of the inn and take up residence in their new home. Walking down the now-familiar hall with her suitcase, Elise looked for the cat one last time. She stopped in a room that was being cleaned and asked the maid if she’d seen an orange tabby cat any place.
“Cat? I haven’t seen a cat. I’ve only worked here a month, but I’ve never seen no cat.”
It wasn’t until they left the inn and moved into the house that the nightmares began. The first night Elise woke up with her heart pounding, her skin cold and clammy. She sat bolt upright in bed looking around her, gasping with fright. What am I afraid of? How can a place this beautiful bring so much terror? When morning came and she looked over the balcony to the yard below, it didn’t seem possible she’d been so frightened just a short time before.
It took far longer than they had ever imagined to unpack the belongings from their Atlanta life and have everything arranged. Elise was too busy during the day to worry about her night frights. And she joined Edwin in trying to keep Margaret content. It was more and more of an irritation to Margaret that they couldn’t find domestic help. But, after all, they were retired and could do the work if they had to. Hot and exhausted by nightfall, Margaret recalled with longing their carefree farewell parties. She wondered what happened to their fountain of youth. She admitted only to herself that she would be too weary to drink from it.
Edwin sensed her weariness, and even though the move had been her idea, he was determined to prove they hadn’t made a mistake. This was too big a step. They had too much invested, not just in terms of money but in their reputations as well.
When it seemed the work would never end, one day they realized they were unpacked, drapes were hung, the bathrooms sparkled, and the modern kitchen was equipped with every accessory Margaret could think of. They were done. Had they known any people, they would have had a party. As it was they made drinks and retired to Edwin’s leather swathed, book-bound study. This would become their ritual, having drinks there each evening. The dark walls provided a shaded haven from the bright Florida sun, and the massive desk Edwin brought from his law firm fit perfectly.
Margaret leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. “What will you do, Edwin?”
“Do?”
“With this room. That desk. I’ve never seen it free of papers before.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been too busy and tired to think about it. What will you do?” he asked.
Margaret winked at him. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve been too busy and too tired to t
hink about it.”
Elise could hear them laughing as she came to the door.
“Hi, come join us,” her dad said. “We’re just relaxing and delighting in being retired.”
She still hadn’t adjusted to this gentle demeanor that seemed more and more his style, to his wanting her to join them. She tried to get a sense of his true feelings, but nothing came to her. They seemed genuine.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll walk around outside a bit.” Margaret sat forward and looked around at her daughter. “I swear, Elise, you remind me of those women in novels who stand on the widow’s walk searching for some sight of their sea-faring husbands. You’ll walk the paint off the porch floors.”
“Oh, leave her alone, Margaret.”
“You know I don’t mean anything, Elise. Enjoy yourself. Call us if you see a ship.”
She could hear them laughing again as she walked toward the front door.
Margaret plucked an olive from her martini. “Have you noticed, Edwin, that Elise is different somehow? Since we moved here, I mean. I can’t put my finger on it, but she seems changed, maybe more feminine.”
“I haven’t noticed any difference. I wish I had.” He took a sip of his drink and sat the glass down hard.
Margaret raised her eyebrows, and Edwin gave a weak smile.
“I’m sorry, but you know as well as I do that even though we love her, she isn’t the easiest person to be around.”
Margaret sighed. “I know. Maybe we’re changing too. Edwin?”
“Yeah?”
“We are enjoying being retired, aren’t we?”
“Well, of course. Sure we are, but, Margaret, there’s something I should tell you.”
A look of alarm crossed her face. “Oh, Edwin, you are happy, aren’t you? I thought a total change of scene was what we needed, would lift that burden you’ve carried all these years and make things okay again.”
“I’m sure that with time it will make things easier. The doctors thought the move was a good idea too. God, you don’t know how awful I feel about what’s happened. After so many years that this would catch up with me and send me into that damned depression. I’ve let you down—twice.”
House on the Forgotten Coast Page 4
