House on the Forgotten Coast

by Ruth Coe Chambers

  “You didn’t! Now isn’t that sweet? See what beautiful fruit, Lawrence? Come on in, honey. I was just making sandwiches for lunch. You’re welcome to join us.”

  Lawrence stepped back into the dark shadows of the house.

  “Are you sure it’s okay?”

  “Well, now, I wouldn’t have invited you if it wasn’t.”

  “I mean, will Lawrence care?”

  “Why would he care? It’ll be nice to have company for a change. It’s been a long time, believe me.”

  They walked to a large, old-fashioned kitchen. A worn oilcloth covered the table and straight chairs with ruffled cushions on the seats completed the comfortable setting. The kitchen curtains were of the same fabric, and the room was as sunny as the living room had been dark. Mrs. Myers busied herself putting the fruit in a bowl and then turned to cut thick wedges of bread from a homemade loaf. Lawrence leaned against the doorframe, his right hip at a slight angle from his body. He stared at Elise. She longed to stare back, to drink in the very sight of him, but she didn’t dare. He touched a well-spring of desire she hadn’t known existed. Mrs. Myers put the bread, cold sliced chicken and mayonnaise on the table. “Lawrence, I haven’t had company in a long time, and I like it. Please sit down.”

  He started toward the table but then turned and went out the back door. Elise walked to the window and watched as he took great strides across the yard, the cat running to keep up, chickens scattering before them. He walked with an easy, fluid motion and hardly breaking stride, scooped the cat up and under his arm.

  “You’ll have to excuse us, dear. He’s not used to being around people.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology. I feel bad. I mean, I’m keeping him from eating.”

  “He’ll get something later. I can afford to be selfish once in awhile. Like I said, I enjoy your company.”

  “I don’t want to cause a problem, Mrs. Myers, but I hope you’ll let me come back—often. I’m trying to think of a major for college. I’ve thought of social work, working with the disabled . . . or maybe psychology. I don’t know. Maybe being around Lawrence, with his problem, you know, could help me determine my career choice.” Where did that come from? Well, it needn’t be a lie. It could be true.

  “Why, that’s a wonderful idea. I’d like to think Lawrence could help somebody. So many people have tried to help him, and it’s surely fine with me. Oh, I’d love to think he could help you. Like I said, people have been so good to him.”

  She walked to the door and looked outside. Satisfied they were alone, she sat at the table across from Elise. “It’ll help you to understand better why Lawrence acts the way he does if I explain some things. Lawrence’s daddy, Luther, drowned in a boating accident.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I heard about that.”

  “Lawrence wasn’t but nine years old, but he blamed himself for what happened. He was never the same afterward. For a time that’s all he could talk about, how his daddy drowned. And then finally he quit talking about it, quit talking at all.” She closed her eyes for a moment and drew a ragged breath.

  “I took him to doctors in Tallahassee and all over, but nothing helped. They told me he had some kind of personality disorder. And you know how cruel children can be. Lawrence was tall for a nine year old, but when they saw he wouldn’t fight, they tormented him unmercifully. He finally quit school, but some teachers got together. They took turns coming here to the house. Came for years. He wouldn’t talk, but he’d listen, and he’d write. He got his diploma.”

  “Was Miss Nadine Fletcher one of the teachers who came out?”

  “Miss Fletcher? No, I don’t remember a Miss Fletcher. What they did was a blessing though. Books became his salvation. How that boy loves to read. I just think of all the knowledge he has in his head and never says a word.”

  “How sad.”

  “Yes, in a way it is sad. I’d have loved him to marry and have a family and enjoy himself, but I can’t think but what he’s found contentment. At least he never had to go to war and kill somebody or do mean things he didn’t want to do. The only life he has is through books. To me he’s still a child. It helps me to deal with it.”

  Her voice broke and she fanned herself with her apron, obscuring her face for a moment. “But the way I go on! You’ll have to stop me, hon. Lawrence won’t talk, and I can’t seem to stop, but come see us as often as you like. Time long since quit having meaning for us, and I’d appreciate your giving us the company. Well, now, I’ve got to get back to my stove. I’m putting up some preserves so I’ll leave you be. Just make yourself at home.”

  Elise walked to the front door and saw Lawrence sitting in the swing.

  “You can go eat now. I won’t bother you.”

  He stood up, his back to her, and faced the road. “I assure you, you can’t help but bother me.” He turned then and walked past her into the house.

  Elise followed him to the kitchen eager to tell Mrs. Myers he’d spoken to her, but his fierce look silenced her. She went back to the porch swing and wondered if she were going mad. Maybe she only imagined he’d spoken.

  A little later she could feel his presence. She knew he was close to the front door but hidden in the shadows where she couldn’t see him. The atoms and molecules, every cell in her body sensed his presence. She started talking, pretending he sat beside her. “My family is new in town. We moved here from Atlanta, and my parents are opening a shop that will sell writing paper and soap that smells good. Not as good as you smell, though.” She gasped with embarrassment and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I’ve always been sensitive to odors. I read once that before people had names, they identified each other by smell. I can believe that because your pheromones speak to me whether you do or not.”

  She could tell he was still behind the door listening and hoped he’d ask what pheromones were. But he didn’t and to cover the silence she continued her nervous monologue. “Please let me keep coming here. I’ve been lonely and unhappy all my life. I think I could be happy here though.” Nearly out of breath with nervousness, she leaned over to stroke the cat, but it ran from her. She felt Lawrence moving away as well. When she went inside to tell Mrs. Myers goodbye, he was nowhere to be seen, though she was sure she heard voices in the distance.

  Mr. Lovett, they a young man at the door saying you been asking for him.

  Thanks, Ruby. I’ll talk to him on the porch. Bring us a couple of glasses of lemonade if you would, please?

  Seth Mitchell?

  Yes, sir.

  Kyle Lovett. He extended his hand and noted the calluses on the young man’s palm.

  You’ve earned yourself quite a reputation around town, Seth. People think you have a real talent for working with wood.

  I’d like to think so, sir. I love finding the beauty in something as unyielding as a piece of wood.

  Do you have formal training?

  No, sir. There was never enough money for that. I just studied and learned from other people.

  Do you think you learned enough to build me a beautiful stable for my horses?

  A stable? Well, sure, I could build a stable.

  I don’t mean just any stable. I want something outstanding, something to make me the envy of everybody who owns a horse.

  I hope you’ll let me try, sir. I’d like to show you what I can do.

  Well, order the materials and put the bill in my name. Hire the help you need, and some of the men here on the place can help out too. When can you start?

  Seth stood up. Now, sir. I’ll draw up the plans this afternoon.

  MARGARET SAT ON A WOODEN box pulling on her new socks. Edwin tapped on walls and tested the floorboards, rocking back and forth on his heels.

  “The building seems sound enough, Margaret. I think it’s a great find, considering the possibilities around here.”

  Margaret looked up. “Elise was talking to Peyton Roberts when I walked in the store to buy these socks.”
r />   “So?”

  “She knows I can’t stand the man. He said she was looking for shoes. I don’t believe that for one minute.”

  “For God’s sake, Margaret, what else would she be looking for?”

  “I don’t know. That’s what concerns me.”

  “My advice is to forget about it. Elise is an odd duck, but she hasn’t caused us any real problems, and there’s no reason to think she’ll start now.”

  “No, but there’s something about that Peyton Roberts that makes me uncomfortable.”

  “Uncomfortable?” Edwin appeared more attentive. “In what way?”

  “I don’t know.” Margaret hesitated a moment, refusing to admit that in some perverse way she found him physically attractive. “It’s nothing I can put my finger on.”

  Edwin pulled up a box and sat in front of her. He laid his hands on her knees. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have beautiful knees?”

  “Only you,” she laughed.

  He cleared his throat. “Margaret, we need to talk. The psychiatrist told me we should talk this out, but I didn’t have the nerve before.”

  “Edwin, don’t. You don’t owe me explanations.”

  “Yes, I do. I owe you a lot more than explanations. I don’t have to remind you that we’ve been through a lot. And that business when I was sick, well, I think it left you feeling betrayed again. Maybe you have a hard time trusting people like this Peyton guy because you can’t trust me. I let you down.”

  “No . . .”

  “Let me finish. I wasn’t myself. I was somebody neither of us knew. I’d kept things buried so long, too long. I should have known they’d have to surface sometime. Jesus Christ couldn’t carry that kind of guilt forever. I felt like I’d been wrapped in a black cloud. I simply couldn’t function. I know how hard it must have been for you because I still looked the same, but my personality, my memory to some extent, vanished.”

  “Edwin, you shouldn’t . . .”

  “Yes, Margaret, I should. I’ve never talked to anyone about this but the psychiatrist said he thought talking to you about it too would help clear the air, so to speak. We just went on pretending nothing had happened. But something had happened, and I want you to understand. A clinical depression is a serious, life-changing event, not a popular pill-popping illness. Looking back, I realize I felt it coming on. There was nothing but darkness waiting for me. But I had no control over any of it. I couldn’t grasp what was happening, and that’s why I fought so when you sent me to the hospital. I thought you were the one who was nuts.”

  “I know, and I admit I was frightened, but I was determined to get the best help possible for you.”

  “And you did. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here on a wooden box in the middle of nowhere.”

  “The move was the doctor’s idea, Edwin. Oh, I know he didn’t say, ‘You should move to Apalachicola,’ but he did think we should get out of the house where it all started. I just took it one step further and decided we should get totally away and start over.”

  “You were right, of course. And now that we’re in a new place, we need to start over with that clean slate. Looking back, I think I always felt it was still Gene’s house; all the memories of Gene were still there. Maybe you felt the same way. After awhile I couldn’t suppress it any more. I just couldn’t handle it, and I let you down. Margaret, please be honest. Do you love me? Truly love me?”

  “What a question, Edwin! But you’re right about our past being there with us. We should have left the house long before a doctor suggested it.”

  “But do you love me?”

  “Yes, of course, I love you.”

  “I guess I’ll never feel comfortable with that. I’ll always feel I set you up, forced the issue.”

  “We’ve had a good life. Don’t question my love, Edwin. Love is a snowflake, unique to each of us and all the same, all snowflakes.” Margaret took both his hands in hers, leaned forward and kissed him gently on the mouth.

  “Well, there’s never been any question about it, Margaret, I love you. I guess I always did.”

  “We love each other. Now let’s get some work done.”

  10

  As often as she dared, Elise went to the Myers’. Impossible as it seemed, she knew she’d fallen in love with Lawrence the first time she saw him. It overpowered her in much the same way the black depression had seemed to consume Edwin. And like Edwin, she was unable to resist its control. Lawrence became her reason for getting up in the morning. She guarded her time with him so jealously that she tried to avoid doing anything to arouse suspicion in her parents. She quit watching the people on the screened porch and began joining Margaret and Edwin at home, most often in front of television in the evening. This newfound devotion wasn’t lost on her mother though.

  “You seem so changed, Elise.”

  Edwin heard them talking and looked up from his paper. “Good lord, Margaret, I imagine we’re all changed. We aren’t exactly operating off Peachtree Street these days.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Edwin. That has nothing to do with it.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “No, it doesn’t. It’s just that Elise seems different somehow. I’ve never known her to be so much for television either.”

  “I’m just tired of reading all the time.”

  “Well, your father and I are usually too tired to read at night as well. Watching television is even a bit of an effort. Your taking on the responsibility for preparing our evening meal has been a big help, Elise. I want you to know that. Funny thing, I never knew you could cook.”

  Elise smiled to herself recalling all the time Mrs. Myers spent teaching her to cook, hearing her say, “You’re like a daughter, honey, and it’s so nice to have you here hanging on my every word. You didn’t know you had a sister now, did you, Lawrence?” She’d smile at Lawrence sitting at the table, and most of the time he’d leave the room. He’d spend small bits of time with them so long as he was ignored. Say anything to him, and he was gone. Elise would gaze at the chair where he’d been only a minute before, sometimes passing her hand over the warmth his body left on the cushion. I don’t feel a bit sisterly toward you, and I surely hope you don’t feel brotherly toward me.

  THE FOSTERS HAD JUST FINISHED another of Elise’s home-cooked meals. Margaret gathered the plates and stacked them in the dishwasher. She stifled a yawn with her hand and started toward the cozy alcove where they’d placed the television. She stopped and looked back. “Why don’t you come down to the shop tomorrow, Elise? The shelves are pretty well stocked, and we’ll be able to open our doors soon. Dallas comes by ’most every day, and she’d like to meet you.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’ll be great. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen what you’ve done. I’ll stop by tomorrow,” she hesitated, “for a little while.”

  “Oh, you’ll spare us a little of your time,” her mother replied sarcastically, already forgetting that her stomach was warmed by the good food Elise had prepared only hours before. “What’s so important that you have to do?”

  Elise clenched her trembling hands inside her pockets.

  “Nothing that’s so important, but I’ve gotten into a schedule of walking and visiting, and I want to be done in plenty of time to prepare a good dinner for you and Dad.”

  “Don’t argue with that, Margaret,” Edwin added genially, “she’s getting to be a better cook than you are.” He smoothed the bulky pages of the New York Times that had come in the mail.

  “I’ve never pretended to be a master chef, Edwin. I have other talents.”

  “Of course you do, and I’ve surely got enough girth to prove your worth in the kitchen. But it’s such a nice surprise coming from Elise.”

  “That’s because she used to be such a dreamer. You’re not a dreamer any more, are you, Elise?”

  Elise shrugged and picked up the TV Guide.

  MARGARET WAS STILL FRUSTRATED BY her inability to hire domestic help, and Elise had pretty much a
ssumed the task. When she had things in order the next morning, she took a quick shower and then stood in front of her closet. More concerned with her appearance now, she reached for a dress but put it back when she remembered the heat of the long walk to the Myers’. She selected a one-piece shorts outfit she’d never worn. She hesitated briefly, drew a deep breath, and took a glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror, hurriedly applying lipstick and fluffing her hair. Then, closing her eyes, she ran her hands down the sides of her hips, pretending they were Lawrence’s hands.

  A gust of cold air wafted up from the floor, and she opened her eyes and trembled. Drafty old house! Would she always have to pretend? Her love had become not only her greatest pleasure but her greatest pain as well.

  She left the house full of the excitement that had entered her life. At the bottom step she hesitated and looked at the carriage stone. The grass had been neatly trimmed so that it rested at the edge of the lawn, dark and menacing. She stared for a moment and wondered if its fascination was wearing thin. It seemed to repel her somehow. She walked rapidly, for the sooner she saw Margaret’s shop, the sooner she’d be with Lawrence. When she reached the block where the shop was located, she took a quick detour and ducked into the shoe store.

  Peyton stepped back, feigning surprise. “Whoa, Bobby, look who’s here.”

  Elise smiled. “When I came by the other afternoon, I forgot to thank y’all for helping me out the day my mother found me talking to you. I haven’t mentioned Lawrence Myers to my folks, and I didn’t know how she’d feel about me prying into their business.”

  “And,” Peyton smiled and raised his eyebrows, “you weren’t at all sure how she’d feel about you talking to me.”

  “Well, you two haven’t seemed to exactly hit it off.”

  “That’s just a matter of opinion. Frankly, I rather enjoy your mother. Gets my adrenaline going.”

  “I have a feeling it must do the same thing for her. But I have to run. She’s expecting me to come see what she’s done with the shop.”