House on the Forgotten Coast

by Ruth Coe Chambers

  “Ty! Where’d you come from?”

  “I could ask you the same question. I was here first.” He sat with his back against a tree, looking up at her.

  “This where you come to indulge?”

  “Not so often any more.”

  “I used to know someone who said pot’s no fun if you’re by yourself.”

  “That right? Then come join me.” He offered her the joint.

  “No thanks. I never liked the stuff. Anyway, here come your dogs from the woods. I hope they’re friendly.”

  “Actually, they’re friendlier than you are.”

  “Touché. Do they have names?”

  “The dogs?”

  “No, the trees. Of course, the dogs.”

  “Well, the white one with the black saddle is Lady, and the one that’s solid black is Trouble. Lady ‘n Trouble.”

  “Very clever.”

  “I thought so.” The hounds began sniffing her shoes and wagging their tails.

  “Didn’t I tell you they were friendly? Why don’t you try pettin’ em? You just might like it.”

  Hesitantly she reached her hand forward and touched one of the dogs on its smooth, rather pointed head.

  “Don’t you think it’d improve the looks of your house to have a hound dog on the front porch?”

  “Knowing my mother, I don’t think that’s going to happen. I suppose you think some outboard motors and rusted buckets would look nice too. Maybe a few fishing nets.”

  “I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth. You just come from the Lovetts’?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Where else would you have been down this way? You sure got a thing for old houses.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I got to say I admire those two old women living there in that house, living down the scandal with all the dignity they could muster.”

  “Scandal?”

  “You know, about Annelise and all.”

  “Since when did dying become a scandal?”

  “When you’ve just married a fine man, but you love someone else. Someone who’s a murderer.”

  “I’ve heard there was a man accused of murder, but you know how stories grow over time.”

  “Yeah, we have our own little Greek tragedy. Annelise’s mother was Greek. It just never made it to our schoolbooks.”

  “I guess I’d envisioned someone totally different.”

  “Story goes Annelise was a tomboy, and her doting papa indulged her whims for fast horses and anything else she wanted.

  Then, when she grew up and was very beautiful, he expected her to behave like a lady. I imagine she tried, but there must have been something inside her that craved danger. She took to sneaking out at night to meet this guy who’d done some work for her dad.”

  “I think I heard that someplace too, but how would people have known that? How could they have found out?”

  “From the Lovett servants for one. Then when this older man, Coulton, came to town and fell for the lovely Annelise, her papa couldn’t believe his good fortune. But you know the rest.”

  Elise dropped to her knees beside Ty. “I’ve gotten the story in bits and pieces, and I keep thinking of her, but how awful for Coulton too.”

  “He had his own demons all right. He stayed with the Lovetts, all of ’em trying to console each other, I reckon, but after Annelise’s funeral, he returned to the house built for his bride and walked over the threshold with empty arms and a deed in his pocket. You know which house, don’t you?”

  Elise nodded.

  “It couldn’t have been an easy thing for him to do, even with a deed to an architectural marvel. He must’a had a bad night. When the servants came the next morning, the front door stood wide open and no one ever saw him again. He didn’t even take the deed. It was on the stairs, like he’d dropped it on the way out.”

  “That story gets more and more tragic.”

  You’re no match for me, Coulton. I could break you in half.

  Get off me, Seth. Maybe I can make this worth your while.

  You mean that deed over there on the table? I don’t think so. I earn my money. I don’t get rich inheriting property from unfortunate girls.

  I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  I think you do. Where do you think I went when I left here? I wasn’t running away like people thought.

  “What’s the matter? You look mighty deep in thought.”

  “I was just listen . . . remembering something else I’d heard.” Ty stood up and crushed the joint with the heel of his boot just as Trouble came over and pushed his head under Elise’s hand.

  “See, what you need is a dog. Mine are a real comfort. A dog can improve your life. You should try it.”

  “I wasn’t aware my life needing improving.”

  “You got nothing better to do than hang around the old Myers’ place, and you think your life doesn’t need something more in it?”

  “I don’t think the way I spend my time is any of your business.”

  “No, it isn’t. Wish it was though. I haven’t made any bones about wanting to get to know you better.”

  “You sure haven’t. And I haven’t made any bones about not wanting to know you better.” Elise stared up at him.

  “I suppose it must be the challenge.”

  “What?”

  “The challenge of getting to know you. You make it so damned difficult. Why else would I keep asking for your insults?”

  Elise stood and brushed grass from her skirt. “Do you really like classical music or is that just a front you put on?”

  “Regardless of what you think of me, my truck, or my dogs, I don’t put on a ‘front’ as you call it. My mother gave piano lessons. Classical music was all I heard growing up. Fortunately, I liked it. Disappointed?”

  “No. It’s the most interesting thing about you.”

  “God damn! You got one mean mouth, you know that?”

  “Not mean. You wanted to get to know me. I’m just being honest.”

  Ty sat down, leaned against the tree again and began laughing. The dogs ran over and nuzzled him under the chin and licked his face. He laughed all the harder and rolled on his stomach to get away from them.

  “I don’t know what’s so funny. But enjoy yourself.” Elise started walking away and Ty sat up.

  “Elise,” he called.

  She stopped but didn’t turn around, aware that she was assuming Lawrence’s pose.

  “There’s a difference between being honest and being unkind. You probably don’t know the difference. You people move in here and act like you own Apalach and our thoughts and feelings and everything about us. Well, you don’t know jack shit. You don’t know anything about me because you never bother to look beyond the end of your conceited little nose.”

  She whirled around then, furious. “That’s not true! How dare you assume you know me! I’m not trying to be unkind. I know the people who invented unkind, the people who taunted me all the while I was growing up, the people who hurt my feelings again and again, the people who never liked me, who never tried to know me. Those people were unkind. I just want you to leave me alone.” She was crying by the time she turned and started to run. Ty caught up with her and grabbed her arm.

  “I’m sorry. Really. We always seem at odds with each other.”

  “All the more reason not to be together.”

  “All the more reason to get things squared away. So I’m not some ambitious blowhard. I like simple things like classical music and the silky feel of a dog’s ear. That doesn’t make me a doormat for you to wipe your feet on.”

  “I never . . .”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  She looked down at his hand still on her arm.

  He followed her gaze and let his hand drop to his side.

  “Elise, there’s room for both of us in this town. Just don’t be so quick to judge people.”

  “I could say the same thing about you.”
/>   “Maybe so. But if you’re going to live here, let’s at least try to be friends.”

  “I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises.”

  Ty laughed. “Do you really believe I thought you would?” She smiled. “No, I don’t suppose you would. You have more faith in those dogs.”

  “I guess I do. And with good reason. They’re devoted and never fail to make me happy.”

  Elise appeared thoughtful and then looked directly at Ty, staring into his eyes. “Maybe I do need a dog.”

  “You could do a lot worse. Can I give you a ride home?”

  “No, I . . .”

  “I know. You need the exercise.”

  “See, you’re getting to know me already.” She waved and looked back to see him shuffling through the magnolia leaves, heading for his truck. “Ty?” she called.

  “Yeah?” he answered hopefully.

  “I’ve been wondering. How do you spell your name? T-e-i-g-h?”

  “Nope. Just T-y. I’m glad to know you’ve been thinking of me. That’s encouraging.” He started walking back toward her.

  “Don’t let it be. I’ve just never known a Ty before. Does it stand for Tyler or Tyrone?”

  “Neither. Stands for me. Guess they thought I’d be slow and gave me an easy name to deal with.”

  “I doubt that. Don’t parents believe their children are brilliant right up to the time they get the results of an IQ test?”

  “Is that your way of saying you think I have a low IQ?”

  “If the shoe fits . . .” She laughed. “I didn’t say that. All I know is that you’re relentless.”

  “Relentless in my pursuit of you?”

  “I didn’t say you were pursuing me.”

  “That’s what you meant though.”

  Elise smiled, waved again and continued on her way.

  Ty started back toward his truck, mumbling, “She’s thinking about you. That’s progress.”

  Elise thought of going to the Myers’, but because Margaret closed the shop at noon on Wednesday, she tried to make it a point of being home in the afternoon. When she walked in the house, Edwin called to her from the breakfast room off the kitchen where he and Margaret were having lunch.

  “Join us, Elise, or did you have a repast of fruit at the Myers’?” Elise froze. How does he know about the Myers? “I haven’t had lunch.” She ignored the reference to the Myers. “I’ve been repaying some social obligations. It’s good for business,” she said, looking at Margaret.

  “Your mother and I think you’re spending far too much time out there.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean we’ve heard how you spend most of your days at the Myers’ place. That isn’t healthy. A young girl has no business out there. It could be dangerous.”

  Dangerous? How? And who’s carrying tales? “You can give me all the dirty looks you want. People are starting to talk. They aren’t blind, you know. They make innuendos about your long walks to the Myers’. What do you suppose they think? Your mother has a thriving business now, and I won’t have you destroying that. We live here. We have reputations to uphold. We expect you to remember that and act accordingly.”

  The Atlanta Edwin was back. Maybe he’d never left. The cold, gruff Edwin.

  “It seems to us you’ve developed a strange obsession where the Myers are concerned, or you’re pretending it’s the Myers. People wonder what you’re doing out there.”

  “I’m trying to decide on a major for college.”

  “What’s that got to do with going to that spooky, old place?”

  “It isn’t spooky, and it has everything to do with it. I’m trying to think things through, decide what I want to do with my life.”

  “Why, Edwin, I think that’s very smart of Elise. See, I told you there was nothing to worry about. So you did write to some schools, Elise?”

  “Yes,” she lied, promising herself she’d get letters in the mail right away.

  “Well, I still don’t like it,” Edwin grumbled. “I don’t like it a damn bit.”

  Stunned, Elise stared at him. She’d heard him say the same thing before, in other circumstances. There was the familiar blinding flash in her head, and she saw herself, just as Miss Nadine saw the boy on the bike, sitting on the floor outside her parents’ bedroom crying and sucking her thumb. But her parents then were Gene and Margaret. And she could hear Edwin saying, “I don’t like it a damn bit.”

  The next thing she knew Margaret was shaking her by the shoulders. “Elise, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  Elise sighed. “I was just deep in thought.”

  Margaret’s voice trembled. “You looked like you might be having a seizure or something.”

  “No,” she looked at Edwin, “I was just remembering something.” She turned and ran upstairs to her room.

  “What’s she talking about, Edwin? She frightens me.”

  “How should I know what she’s talking about, for God’s sake? No telling, considering the way she chooses to spend her time. I don’t think we should let her keep going out there, Margaret. I don’t like it. There’s something about her that’s changing.”

  “Maybe. But, Edwin, you seem awfully hostile lately. I think we should see the doctor about adjusting your medication again.”

  “Dammit, Margaret, quit trying to push it off on me. It’s Elise that has the problem, not me!”

  “I think I’ve made my point, Edwin.”

  “You’ve done nothing but make me angry. Let’s just drop it, shall we?”

  ELISE WAS LYING ON HER bed staring at the ceiling when Margaret came into her room.

  “I’m sorry, Elise. Since his depression, Edwin’s had a short fuse. I hope it’s nothing more than his medication needing some adjustment. It’s pretty bad when depression seems preferable to his hostility. He scares me at times. He’s sharp in ways he didn’t used to be, frightening, something more than depression.”

  “I’m sorry if he worries you, Mom, but for me, well, he isn’t really my father.”

  “How can you say that! He’s the only father you’ve ever known.”

  “No he isn’t. You’ve just never wanted me to talk about my real father.”

  “You were so little, Elise. You can’t really remember Gene.”

  “But I do. I remember lots of things.” At that moment it was bravado, but she felt she would remember—soon. Some-thing was moving forward in her memory, a coin on the verge of dropping out of the bank where it had been imprisoned.

  “While you’re remembering, remember how good Edwin has been to you! Gene was a scoundrel.” She gasped. “Oh, Elise, I’m sorry.” She started to cry. “He was your father. I swore I’d never say anything against him.”

  “A scoundrel?”

  “I didn’t mean that. But I’ll be honest, being married to Gene wasn’t a bed of roses.”

  “Is that what you’ve had with ‘Uncle Edwin’?”

  “No, it hasn’t been a bed of roses, but it’s been a good marriage—on the whole. Oh, Elise, what choice did I have?” She ran out of the room and left Elise more puzzled than ever. What choice did she have?

  Elise pleaded a headache and stayed in her room the rest of the day. Let her mother cook for a change! Sometime after dark she thought she heard Ty’s truck and music, but she couldn’t be sure. Then, without knowing why, she pulled her nicest gown over her head and draped her grandmother’s pearls around her neck. She looked down at them, thinking they looked like something Annelise might have worn. She pushed her fingers through her thick hair, lifted it upward and let it fall over her shoulders. She started toward the mirror but paused and turned back toward the bed. Like a rosary, she kept sliding the pearls through her fingers and then laid them on her nightstand before getting into bed. She stared at the ceiling until her eyes were sore and dry. She didn’t remember falling asleep, but finally the headache was gone, and she was at peace.

  There’s no way Edwin can keep me away from Lawrence. I’m not a ch
ild any more, frightened of his displeasure. I’m not like my mother; I have a choice, and I won’t let him destroy my happiness. She walked to the Myers’, all the while hearing classical music, but never seeing Ty’s truck. When she walked through the gate, she noticed again how quiet everything was. And again Lawrence came running down the stairs, but this time he came right up to her and took both her hands in his. He was unbearably close and pressed her hands to his lips.

  “What’s come over you?”

  “You. You’ve come over me.”

  “Mrs. Myers?” she called, her heart a drumbeat in her ears. “Is your mother here, Lawrence?”

  He continued holding her hands to his lips and slowly shook his head, his green eyes filled with mischief.

  “She must have gone into town?” He nodded and a faint smiled played about his mouth. Without a moment’s hesitation, he took Elise in his arms and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. His eyes never left hers as he leaned forward and began unbuttoning her blouse. He slid her bra straps off her shoulders and kissed the top of her breasts. She moaned and slipped out of her shorts and underwear. Oh, dear God, that this could happen. Elise moved her hands down Lawrence’s lean, hard body as she unbuttoned his shirt and slid his pants to the floor. On his bed, next to him, her body brimmed with the warmth of happiness. Even to someone as naïve as Elise, she found it hard to believe he wasn’t an experienced lover. Yet how . . . and then she ceased to think or wonder about anything beyond the feel of his body against hers. His hands were gentle and caressing, and his lips seemed to devour her. The ecstasy of the moment was like a glowing white light. Her back arched and she cried out. But the voice wasn’t hers. Long, dark hair lay over Lawrence’s pillow. Long dark hair that belonged to someone else. Annelise! Lawrence had made love to Annelise! She could see her lying there beneath him. Not Elise! Annelise!

  “How,” she whispered, “How? You can’t have him! You’re dead.” And then she saw two skeletons on the bed, one on top of the other.

  She cried out and sat up in bed, rigid with fear, her fine gown drenched with perspiration even as she shook in the chilled air. She pressed the edge of the sheet to her breast and felt something hard. She was wearing the pearls she remembered leaving on the bedside table.