“GRANDMA?” I said loudly, “Grandma, please.”
There was nothing.
The distant aunt I was staying with made the arrangements. More food was brought over. This time I couldn’t bring myself to eat it. They buried her next to my granddaddy, who died five years before I was born. My aunt asked me if I would like the urn to go with Grandma.
“Into the casket?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, impatiently.
“No. I want to keep it.”
She sighed and left me alone.
It was a condition, I realized, that I needed to get used to.
Chapter 2
Virginia arrived on the Thursday after Grandma’s funeral. I was supposed to be packing, but I couldn’t find the energy to get it done. Piles of jeans and t-shirts sat crumbled in the corner of the room I had been sleeping in for the past week and a half. It was difficult to do anything else other than sleep. I hadn’t cried much. I was a dry well; I had nothing left to give.
So my clothes littered this temporary home and Netflix had been my solace. I had also snuck a fifth of Makers from my aunt’s liquor cabinet. I mixed it with RC Cola and my Grandma’s Ativan that she had left behind. It was all I could do.
When Virginia arrived, I’d been thinking about what happened next. My aunt had explained that she couldn’t keep me (although I suspected she just didn’t want to, after finding me so drunk that I was peeing in a waste basket in her sewing room) and that it had been difficult to find any living kin to take me in. My mom’s family was out of the picture; her parents died years ago and she’d been an only child like my dad. My aunt didn’t want to turn me away. She would try her best not to do that. Her attempts to console me of this fact did not convince me that she didn’t want me out as soon as humanly possible. She had not signed up for this mess.
My aunt told me about someone named Virginia who had apparently known my grandma and even my father, briefly at least. She was an old friend who lived in Charleston, South Carolina, and who had taken an interest in having me stay with her. I found this odd, but I was as ready to leave North Carolina, and the house of death, as my aunt was to get me out of it.
Grandma had never mentioned any friend named Virginia, but I also had met about fifty people at her funeral and my parents’ that seemed to know a lot about me, but whom I had never heard of or met in my life. My grandma apparently loved to talk about my sister and me. So Virginia was probably one of her old lady friends.
It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than staying here and being disconnected from everything that I knew. At least this was a thread of something. I needed that to keep going.
“Emma,” my aunt called up to me. “Virginia is here.”
I quietly padded down the stairs in jean shorts and a t-shirt that said This is what a feminist looks like. It had been my mother’s. It still smelled like her - lavender oil and soap.
A woman in a pencil skirt and a silk blouse sat on my aunt’s stiff davenport, sipping a mug of coffee. My aunt sat next to her staring in awe.
Virginia was stunning. Her hair fell down past her shoulders in soft auburn waves. Her hands were perfectly manicured and she wore what looked like incredibly expensive bracelets on both wrists. They had gems in them that matched the color of her kitten heels, which were crossed at the ankles. She sat up straight and haughty, like a queen; regal.
It took me a moment to place her, but then I recalled that I’d seen her at my parents’ funeral, just a glance. As much as somebody who looked like her could, she blended in and stayed on the periphery of things. I wasn’t introduced to her.
Virginia was nothing that I had ever expected. There was no short little old lady hairdo. No orthopedic shoes or withered hands.
“Nice shirt,” she said. Did I hint a smirk? She took another sip of her drink and then said. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Emma Ayers.”
“Yeah, ok. Whatever,” I snapped back. The woman was mesmerizing.
“Emma,” my aunt scoffed. “Very impolite. What would your grandma say? Virginia is doing you a mighty wonderful thing, taking you into her home. Please show some respect.”
I rolled my eyes. “You mean she’s bailing you out. Now you don’t have to deal with me. And how do I know this woman isn’t some high end madam sex trafficker who is here to sell my body to some Saudi prince? I watch Dateline you know. That shit happens.”
My aunt’s jaw dropped to the floor, but Virginia laughed at my response. It was a low timbre of a laugh and it eased me for a moment.
“Emma. Oh, sweet girl,” Virginia stood up and moved toward me. Our eyes met for a long, uncomfortable moment.
“You’ve been through so much,” she finally said. “I wouldn’t dream of putting you through anything else, I promise. Coming with me? It will be a great decision. And frankly, right now your only other choice is staying here. I sense that’s not something you’re thrilled with.”
I slowly shook my head, but said nothing.
“How about you go upstairs and pack your things so we can be on our way? We can stop for lunch on the way out, have a little talk. I know you probably have many questions. If, after that lunch, you would like to not come with me, I completely understand and I will bring you right back. No hard feelings.”
My aunt’s jaw was slowly moving back into position. I glanced at her and then back to Virginia.
“No lunch needed. Just get me to Charleston. I can be ready in 15 minutes.”
As I lugged my two enormous suitcases stuffed with the remains of my old life down my aunt’s front stoop, I gasped.
On the street was a large black stretch limousine, its driver standing at attention in a crisp suit and tie. The guy even had a chauffeur’s hat on.
“I feel like Annie right now,” I said, as Virginia walked ahead of me. “Seriously? A limo?”
Virginia didn’t even glance back. “Walter, can you get Emma’s bags for us please?”
The driver obliged, grabbing both suitcases like they weighed nothing. “I’ll take those, Miss Ayers.”
“Miss Ayers? Emma is fine,” I said. “Virginia? Who are you?”
Virginia stood next to the passenger’s side back door. Walter had already slipped my luggage in the trunk and was now opening her door for her.
“I’m Virginia Embers,” she replied, as she ducked into the car. “That’s all that’s important for now.”
Chapter 3
Virginia and I sat in silence for the first twenty minutes of the drive. I put my ear buds in and listened to The Head and the Heart as we merged onto the 95. I’d just closed my eyes when I felt her lightly tapping on my knee.
“Sorry to interrupt your trance,” she said. “I think we need to talk. I assume you have some questions, yes?”
I had a million. I wasn’t sure where to start.
“Yeah. You say you’re Virginia Embers, like I should know the name. But I can’t remember my grandma ever mentioning you. And you’re the type of person I would have remembered her mentioning, I’m sure of that. How did you know her? And my-” I could barely say it. “My dad. How did you know him? You look about his age. Did you date?”
Virginia smiled and moved closer to me across the long seat we were sharing. She placed her hands on mine.
“No. I haven’t seen your father in a very long time. And only once,” she said, without further explanation. “But I visited your grandmother many times through the years. She helped me out when I was younger. It’s not so important. I’m also not shocked she didn’t mention me to you; it had been more than a decade since our last visit when she passed. Our last meeting did not go well.”
She looked me directly in the eyes as she spoke. She was focused and exact with her conversation. I could feel her sincerity in every word. She reminded me of my mother in the way she spoke. No nonsense, no wool over the eyes crap. Everything my mother ever told me was true. I felt like that about Virginia. And what choice did I really have?
“Well,” I sa
id, putting my ear buds back in. “So far I think this works for me. I’ve never been to Charleston though, so I’m not sure how that will go.”
Virginia gave me her coy smile again as my mind fell into the rhythm of my iPod. “The Charleston part is the last thing I am worried about.”
The only thing I had ever known about Charleston was that Rhett Butler was from there. So, I didn’t really know much at all. My mother had been obsessed with Gone With the Wind. It was one of those surprising things about her; she wasn’t the type of woman one would guess would be into romantic antebellum fiction. My mother had been the serious type, so I had always kind of liked that little eccentricity about her. She read it to me as a kid and we’d watched the movie a million times, even though she, of course, loved the book much more.
As miles of I-95 blurred by my window, my heart ached at the thought of her. How had I ended up here in a limo, with a stranger, driving to the heart of the south? A month ago my life was one way: predictable, going on a path to which I could clearly see the steps. Now I had no idea where I was going, not in any sort of way.
I had never felt more alone in my life.
Virginia must have sensed my despondency.
“Would you like a drink?” she inquired, opening a small fridge built between the seats next to us.
“A water, I guess.”
Virginia raised an eyebrow at me. “A real drink, I mean.”
“Oh,” I said, surprised.
“Well, I don’t normally encourage underage drinking, but you look like you need to relax a bit. No one could blame you. I brought some bourbon. It’s my own liquid anti-anxiety.”
“I guess I’ll have a small drink if it will relax me. I feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin.”
“You look like it too, honey.”
The next thing I knew, I was sipping a bourbon and Coke out of a glass and my insides felt warm and calm. It tasted terrible, but the effect was worth it.
“Better?” Virginia asked.
“Yeah. A little bit. Thank you.”
We sat in silence as I listened to the road beneath us. South Carolina was full of potholes.
“Bumpy ride,” Virginia said, again as if she had read my mind.
“Yeah. South Carolina needs to fix their roads.”
Virginia smiled. “Among other things. But yes, they do.”
We passed a sign for I-26 and Virginia shifted in her seat. “We’re close. Every time I see the sign for the 26, I start to relax. I can feel home.”
“I wouldn’t know where we are.”
“Well, hopefully one day you will feel that way too.”
“No offense, Virginia, but I don’t see myself ever feeling that way about a place again. I had that and now it’s gone.” I felt emboldened by the alcohol in my blood. I wasn’t scared of saying anything right now.
“I’m not offended. I completely understand.”
“How could you possibly understand? You look like the kind of person who has never had a single terrible thing happen to you. You travel in limousines with your own lackey. You wear designer clothes, have impeccable hair, and one of those dialects that clearly insinuate elite breeding. You’re like something out of a fairy tale, but I’m not Cinderella and this isn’t a book or some stupid movie. This is my life and the worst thing that could happen to me has happened and there is no way someone like you could ever understand it. So please, just don’t pretend to.”
I expected to change the veneer of her cool expression, but, oddly, nothing changed with Virginia. She remained calm and unaffected. It pissed me off.
“Seriously? What do you want with me? Why did you take me in? What’s in this for you?”
Virginia said nothing. She stared at me a moment with a look I couldn’t read. Her eyes were soft and kind but I still couldn’t tell if my words meant anything to her.
“This is bullshit.” I sat back, defiant.
“Emma, the world is bullshit. This is just a small taste of it. You have lost a lot, yes. To assume someone else hasn’t because of the car they ride in or the clothes they wear shows a lack of understanding on your part. It shows inexperience. It shows a lack of life knowledge. It shows that you are very young. People your age shouldn’t have to learn these lessons for a very long time. But Emma, you are not most young people; I have a feeling you’ve always known that, even before all of this.”
She said all of that with a softness that reminded me of my mother. Slightly condescending, but also empathetic. It angered me more deeply.
“Obviously you don’t know me. I’m pretty much the most ordinary, typical girl ever. Nothing special, nothing that a million other girls aren’t. My sister was the extraordinary one. As was my mother. I really don’t need someone that I have known a mere two hours to analyze me. I’m going to be incredibly rude now and put my ear phones back in to drown you out.”
Virginia simply nodded. No response to my retort. No look of surprise. Nothing. She smiled and went back to reading a book from her designer bag. And I went back to idly watching the world blur by.
Chapter 4
The first thing I remember about Charleston is the bridge. It was glorious and white under a late afternoon sun, a white suspension bridge over the river.
“Are we crossing that?” I asked Virginia, the first time I’d spoken in almost an hour.
“Not today,” Virginia replied as she stared at her reflection in a Chanel compact. “But we will. It goes over to Mount Pleasant, which is the town before the beach.”
“Oh. I’m not much of a beach person, to be honest.”
“Neither am I,” she said, staring at me again, knowingly.
“So we’re almost at your house?” I asked, stuffing my iPod into my backpack.
“Very close. We live downtown. It’s crowded at this time of year so there might be a bit of traffic, but I would say we’re no more than than ten minutes away.”
“Oh, I forgot, you probably have a husband. What does he think of you bringing a human souvenir home?” I asked as I stretched my arms.
Virginia smiled. “I’m not married. My niece lives with me, as does her cousin from her other side. You’ll meet them tonight, they’re about your age. Calista and Josephine are both seniors too. I can’t say they weren’t surprised about this, but they’re looking forward to meeting you in person. They’re very curious.”
There was that smirk again. This was all so completely strange.
As we exited off the interstate, I stared out the window. We passed streets filled with dilapidated houses with double porches and fans whirling. Children sat on the stoops, barefoot. The scenery changed gradually the closer we got to what I was assuming was downtown. Lots of high end stores and bars. We stopped in traffic numerous times and I could hear the boozy laughter coming out onto the street.
“This is King Street,” Virginia explained. “It’s kind of the center of everything, tourist-wise anyway.”
“It seems popular. Parking on this street would be hell.”
“Oh God, yes it sure is,” Virginia laughed. “I’m grateful I rarely have to do it.”
We crept up through traffic and passed a small park where college kids were throwing a Frisbee.
“That’s Marion Square Park, which used to be part of the Citadel. Now, it’s mostly used by the college girls as a place to sunbathe. So of course the college boys come to ogle the girls, and when the weather’s nice, it becomes a glorified meat market. Oh how I wish Calhoun could see it, he’d flip over in his grave,” Virginia chuckled to herself.
“Who is Calhoun? And what’s the Citadel?” I asked.
Instead of answering, Virginia lowered the partition separating us from the front of the car, and called to the driver.
“Walter, can you phone ahead and make sure Fiona has the gate open? I forgot to bring the remote with me. You just park on the street; I know you can’t get this long thing up the drive.”
“Of course, Ms. Embers.”
We
were quiet as we suddenly made a turn and rolled onto a street like nothing I could have ever imagined.
We were flanked on one side with what looked like a harbor and on the other side by the most beautiful homes I’d ever seen. Victorian and Greek revival mansions with double porches and verandas surrounded by lush, green gardens. The walking traffic was not as heavy here, but we reached another park that had beautiful live oaks scattered throughout and a white gazebo in the middle. I was in awe of the beauty and I felt like I’d entered another time. Mom, you would love this, I thought to myself, my heart heavy once again.
I figured this must be Virginia’s way of impressing me with her city, and that we would drive on to a more typical suburb, but suddenly the car came to a halt and Virginia moved toward the door.
“Make sure you get everything out of here,” said Virginia. “I borrowed this from my friend Margaret and she’s taking it to Hilton Head tomorrow.”
“Um, okay,” I managed to mutter. “Are we here?”
“Of course,” Virginia looked back at me, that knowing smile set on her lips again. “I hope you remember this moment always.”
Before I could reply, I stepped out of the limo and was greeted by an enormous wrought iron gate, the name ‘Embers’ monogrammed across it. I looked up and gasped at what I saw.
“This can’t be your house,” I managed to get out.
“It most certainly is my house. And now, Emma Ayers, it is also yours.”
“Oh, Ms. Embers! I am so sorry, I was on the other end of the house putting laundry away and I couldn’t get here fast enough!”
A thin woman with a beaky nose rushed down the stairs of the largest house I had ever seen in person in my life. She was flustered as she pushed what looked like a garage remote and the gate slowly opened.
“Oh, Fiona. That’s not a problem, I’m just sorry I forgot to bring the remote with me,” Virginia smiled and kissed Fiona’s cheek. “I guess I was too distracted by our new family member.”
Hell's Belles (Hell's Belles Trilogy Book 1) Page 2
