Secrets of Sandhill Island

by Peggy Chambers

  “Lovely colors,” she said, surveying the artwork.

  “Drab. That’s all I have to say on the subject. They sell, but they aren’t what I really want to paint.”

  “What do you want to paint?” she asked.

  “The sea and all its brilliant dark shades of blues and greens—sometimes it almost looks black!”

  “Yes, I know. It can be very foreboding.”

  “Okay, bring that wagon of yours around back and we’ll pack it up.” Alex walked out the back door of the shop.

  Hating to leave the cool air, Meg did as she was told and dragged the wagon to the back of the shop where the trash was piled. Alex was digging through the lumber and getting the longest pieces of wood to make a fence. He had no idea how big her garden was and she wasn’t going to tell him. He could see for himself.

  Chapter 4

  After the road ended, Alex pulled the old wagon down the dirt path and over the top of the sand dunes.

  Meg pointed. “There, the little house facing the water.”

  Meg could see the front of her tumble-down house with the screened-in porch. It was tiny with paint peeling, shingles missing, and one dangling shutter. But, it was home. Alex said nothing. Maybe he expected more. As they walked a little further, she could see the beginning of the garden in back. The lovely straight rows and green leaves showed that it was loved and cared for. The back of the house with the rickety steps was a sharp contrast to the perfect garden. It began almost at the back door and went up and stopped at the sloping edge of the sand dunes. The garden was actually bigger than the house in width and length and much better maintained. The rows were straight, with little stone pathways leading to various areas—some for flowers and some for herbs. The vegetables ran down the center. A rabbit’s paradise.

  Alex cleared his throat. “It’s much bigger than I imagined. I don’t have nearly enough fencing material.”

  Meg laughed. “I tried to tell you we couldn’t fence it in.”

  “It’s huge! And it’s beautiful. You did all this work yourself? How long did it take you?”

  “It’s still a work in progress. I add soil to it most years and sometimes I put in another addition. I want to try roses, but I don’t know how they will handle the salt air.”

  “A garden on a seashore is tricky, I would think. You have an incredible green thumb.” He wandered through the maze of plants, past the lavender and mint, before he reached the tomatoes held up by their vertical cages, and sat on the small wooden bench. It faced the ocean and was shaded by the tall stand of Pampas grass planted behind it. The wind lightly blew the stalks back and forth, making a comforting swishing sound. He looked at the scene with an artist’s eye as he surveyed the lovely garden in sharp contrast to the rustic beach house and softly rolling waves of the ocean. He breathed deeply.

  “This is heaven. I need to paint this.” He walked around in a circle and looking at everything. “Could I...I mean, would it be too much trouble if I set up an easel here sometime? I really need to paint this. The rustic house, the garden, and the sea. That’s what I came here for. I wanted to paint the sea.”

  Meg could see the passion in his eyes as he looked out into the vast blue ocean. She remembered a man with passion in his eyes for the sea once, and she looked away.

  “This place is wonderful. I have never seen such beauty and ruggedness in one setting, please say it’s okay if I paint it.”

  Meg cleared her throat. “There are lots of beaches here on the island. Have you checked them out?”

  “Not like this. It’s the mixture that makes it so inviting. You just don’t realize what you’ve got here. I mean aesthetically. It’s perfect to an artist.”

  “It’s home.”

  “That’s it. That’s what I’ll call the painting. ‘It’s home.’” The little brown rabbit darted in front of them and dove down the rows toward the okra.

  “There he goes!” shouted Alex as he ran after the intruder. Racing around the end of the beans and past the okra, the rabbit outran the man with ease. A giggle rose in Meg’s throat as she tried unsuccessfully to stifle it. What would he do with the rabbit if he caught it—like that was going to happen. The harder she tried to contain it, the more the giggle was determined to come out. By the time Alex came back, she had tears streaming down her cheeks and held her stomach.

  “Oh, just laugh. I’m an old man and could have had a heart attack chasing that rabbit and my death would be on your hands.” He tried to look stern.

  “I’m sorry, it was just so funny, the rabbit didn’t even break a sweat!” The giggles started again.

  Alex stood with his hands on his hips, looking at Meg.

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. You came here to help me and all I’m doing is laughing. Would you like to come in for some tea? It’s awfully hot out here.”

  “Tea would be great.” He smiled slightly.

  Meg led him through the back door and into the tiny, spotless kitchen. “If you want to go through to the porch, I’ll bring the drinks.” She pointed through the house, toward the ocean.

  Meg walked out onto the porch and found Alex in what would have been her front lawn—if she had one. He was standing on the beach looking longingly out to sea.

  “I’ll say it again. What a view.”

  “It is lovely. The house needs work, but it suits me fine. I spend most of my time outdoors anyway.”

  “I think it’s great, and I’d like to paint it.”

  “How will you paint when you are in your studio all the time? You have to sell the paintings you have.”

  “Well, I’d start by taking some photographs and then, I might close up shop a couple days a week to do the actual easel time. I mean with your permission. I’d promise not to be in the way. Please?”

  Meg stared at the man in her front yard and wondered why he was so easy for her to talk to. She normally went out of her way to avoid conversations with most anyone. and yet talking to him was easy. Something about him was trustworthy.

  “Okay. You can paint it. I’ll be in town anyway selling vegetables.”

  “Great! And I think I can make a trap for your little bunny friend. I promise not to hurt him. Then maybe we could escort him off the island.”

  “That would be wonderful. I don’t want to kill him, just introduce him to some other buffet than my garden.” And she began to laugh again at the thought of the rabbit outrunning Alex.

  “You have a great laugh.” Alex smiled warmly. “And I need to get back to the shop. How about I bring the camera tomorrow?”

  Meg smiled. “That will be fine.”

  Alex walked back up the hill and Meg watched him go. She found him intriguing in a way that no one had been in a long time. She liked this man.

  Chapter 5

  The phone woke Meg from a dreamless sleep. It was much too early for phone calls. Jon normally called her on his way to work, but not this early. His days were so busy in Corpus Christi that it was about the only time he had left. And since she was normally up and out the door early too, the timing worked for both of them.

  Her only child was an attorney in a large firm in Corpus Christi, miles from his mother and even further from her way of life.

  “Did I wake you?” She could tell he was smiling, even through the phone.

  “Yes, what time is it?” The sun was barely starting to rise.

  “Not quite six yet.”

  “You go in earlier and earlier. Are you on the road?”

  “Yeah, we have a breakfast meeting this morning, so I called a little earlier than normal. I’m sorry to wake you up.”

  “No problem, I would be getting up soon anyway. You know the garden never sleeps.”

  “I don’t know why you try to kill yourself with that thing. Move back to Corpus Christi. I’ll help you get settled in somewhere.”

  This was not a new conversation. Jon was a good son and he loved his mother. He worried about her working so hard, especially when she didn�
�t have to. But, most of all, her lifestyle embarrassed him. What if the partners got wind of the fact that his mother was a hermit living on a beach in a tumble-down beach house selling vegetables for a living? He’d be the laughing stock. And then there was Victoria. What would she think of a potential mother-in-law who lived as Meg did?

  “I love it here. And yesterday, Sam, the chef at Le Chez, bought all the vegetables I had. Things are looking up!” She neglected to add that it was only because he had an emergency, but she thought it might impress him.

  “Okay, whatever makes you happy. Listen, I was hoping I could take you to dinner sometime. I have someone I want you to meet.”

  “Oh Jon, you know I’ve given you free reign over the corporation. Philanthropy is big business. The kind of thing an attorney should do, not a gardener.”

  “You’re not a gardener and you know it. You didn’t get a master’s degree from Wellesley so you could sit on a beach and grow tomatoes.”

  “They’re great tomatoes, and it’s not easy growing them on a beach.”

  “Okay, well think about it. I might be coming to the island soon anyway and I want to see you. Maybe you could make me some of that wonderful gumbo and cornbread.”

  “Anytime Jon, let me know when you’ll be here and I’ll get some fresh shrimp.”

  “Will do. Love you, Mom.”

  “Love you too, Son. Take care.” She clicked the cell phone off, pushed back the covers, and headed for the shower. She and Jon could not be more different, but they loved each other just the same.

  Chapter 6

  There he was; her nemesis. Meg saw him when she stepped onto the rickety back step, shading her eyes with one hand. Movement in the cucumbers caught her attention. The little brown rabbit looked up with a mouthful of leaves and stared directly into her eyes. He was much bigger than the last time she had seen him. Was it the same rabbit or his bigger brother? She hoped it was just the same rabbit that had grown immensely from eating her garden, and not a relative. They reproduced so quickly that there could be a dozen of them in a few weeks.

  Throwing her hat on her head, she grabbed the rake near the door. Taking a deep breath, she ran at the rabbit, waving the rake in the air with a prehistoric scream. The fuzzy creature dove for cover without even a final bite of food this time.

  “Hah! Maybe next time you’ll eat grass up on the sand dunes!” But, she knew he wouldn’t.

  Pulling her wagon to the produce stand, she carefully placed the vegetables on the wooden planks, arranging them in careful groups. Tomatoes, cucumbers, squash, and more blackberries. They were really putting on a show these days. They were fabulous on cereal for breakfast and Meg planned a small cobbler soon. If they kept producing, she might have enough left over for some jam. She remembered Mariam’s jam when she was a child. The hot fresh biscuits dripped homemade butter and wild blackberry jam. They were so warm and flaky they melted in your mouth. But, the jam was the best. It was sweet with just a hint of tartness.

  She sat down as Alex walked out of the shop with a camera around his neck and a tripod in his hand. Leaning it against the wall, he locked the door.

  “Good morning, Meg.” He smiled. “How are the veggies today?”

  “Fresh and sweet,” she replied, smiling.

  “I guess it’s still okay for me to take pictures of your place at the beach?”

  “Of course. And if you see that ever-fattening little creature, run him out! He was back again this morning.”

  “I’ve been working on a trap design that I think will work. We can catch him and keep him in the cage until we can take him off the island. I’ll show you when I get back if you’re still here.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you Alex. I ran at him like a banshee this morning. If I had neighbors, they would have thought I’d lost my mind.”

  “I guess your closest neighbors are the fishermen in the harbor.”

  “Yes, and they’re not close, thank heaven. I know I looked like an idiot.”

  “Meg!” Sam from Le Chez called her from the street. “Please tell me you still have those wonderful blackberries today!”

  “You’ve made a new friend. I’ll see you later.” Alex turned and left, walking toward the shore.

  “Yes, Sam, how many do you want?”

  “All you have. And let me look at those wonderful cucumbers! Your produce is so much nicer than anything I can get from my suppliers. I wonder if you would sell to me first before you trade with the tourists. I’d give you top dollar. I could even send someone to pick up if you needed me to.”

  Meg was surprised. Sam seldom said two words to her until recently when he needed her vegetables, and now he was practically begging for her wares. “Well, if you really want them. They’re for sale and you would pay the same price as anyone.”

  “Wonderful. Maybe I could visit your little garden sometime—and are those lilies? I need centerpieces for this evening. Bring it all! I want everything you have. Here, let me help you pack it back in that wonderful little wagon. My guests will be thrilled. We’ll mix the lilies with the sunflowers and sea oats and your fresh vegetables will be the main course tonight. I make a mean Italian vegetable soup. You must try it sometime. It has chicken, rosemary and olives, and now your fresh tomatoes—it is just sublime!”

  It was still early in the day, but she had no more vegetables to sell so she would go home to see if the weeds were taking over the tomatoes. Meg pocketed the cash from Sam and began to pull her empty wagon back home in the warm sunshine.

  ****

  At first she thought he was dead. Alex sat on her bench with one arm over the back and his legs crossed in front. The camera—still sitting on the tripod—stood in front of him. His head rolled back and eyes closed, she noticed his chest moving up and down in a rhythmic manner. He was asleep in the shade of the pampas grass.

  Placing the handle of the wagon on the ground quietly, she tip-toed around the soundly sleeping man and walked to the back door of her house. She would make the blackberry cobbler and invite him to dinner. She smiled, wondering how long it had been since there had been company in her house. Never, in the house she lived in now. Not since... Well, never.

  Turning on the old gas oven, she washed her hands and began making dough for the cobbler as Mariam had taught her. There were just enough berries for a small cobbler, not like the ones that graced her table as a child, but enough for two. Just as she was sprinkling the top crust with sugar to place it in the oven, the door opened and Alex stuck his head in.

  “I think I fell asleep,” he said. “I saw you through the window. Can I come in? I was waiting for just the right light, and that is the last thing I remember.”

  “Of course, come in. It’s a good thing the rabbit didn’t carry you off!” Meg smiled.

  “I haven’t seen him.”

  “How could you, your eyes were closed.”

  “Ah hah! That’s probably how he tricked me and got away. Is that a blackberry cobbler?”

  “It will be when it comes out of the oven. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

  “I couldn’t impose. I didn’t mean to stay this long. Besides, I have a trap to build.”

  “Well, there’s wood beside the house that we brought here the other day. Will it work?”

  “Yes, but I took my tools back home.”

  The cobbler in the oven, Meg was peeling potatoes into the soup pot. “I was planning a vegetable soup for the entree.” She took a covered plastic bowl out of the refrigerator and pulled a large amount of dough from the center, rolling it into a ball and placing it on the round stone pan. “I also have artisan bread and there’s cobbler for dessert.”

  Meg could almost see Alex’s mouth water. “I really don’t want to be a bother.” He stared at the bread dough.

  She poured water into the small enamel pan and put it on the burner to simmer as she measured out the loose tea into the water. The scent of freshly brewing tea quickly filled the room as she poured water into t
he pitcher. Slicing the lemon and placing it on a plate, she put it all on a tray with the tarnished antique silver sugar bowl. She strained the simmered tea into the pitcher, filled two large glasses with ice, and poured the tea over the crackling ice.

  “Well, maybe I could stay.” He watched her prepare the tea. “I am a little parched.”

  Meg smiled. “Well, if you really want to.” She handed him the glass of tea still warm with melting ice inside. “Here, drink it down, you might need a little more ice. Let’s sit out on the porch while this all cooks. It’s much cooler out there.” And she led him to the front of the house.

  After dinner with the dishes done, Alex hung the wet dishtowel on the rack and sighed. “I don’t know when I’ve had anything so delicious.”

  “Well, thank you. It is mostly that everything is homegrown and fresh. Otherwise it’s just vegetable soup. And it was such a pleasure to have someone to eat with. Eating alone is never fun.”

  “It was wonderful. And that bread—where did you learn to make that bread?”

  “A woman named Mariam taught me to cook. She made that bread recipe often. It’s easy and makes a small amount so it’s great for a person living alone. I keep it in the refrigerator so I can bake it whenever I need it. By the way, did you get all the shots you wanted today?” Meg put away the last of the dishes as she talked.

  “Well, I think I got enough to get started. I know what I want to paint. But, would it be okay if I come back if I need to take more at a later time of day? I mean without falling asleep this time?”

  “Whenever you want.” Meg smiled at the man in her kitchen who was a stranger just a few days ago.

  “I need to go before it gets dark.” Alex stood. “Thank you again.”

  Meg walked him out the back door and through the garden, picking up his camera and tripod. Climbing to the top of the sand dune, she could see a figure in the distance coming her way. His suit coat slung over his shoulder, Jon had parked the Mercedes on the road and was walking the rest of the way. She waved. He stopped and looked at her, waving hesitantly.