by Julie Allan
“I know we don’t really know each other very well yet, but you are my niece and having lost your mother so young, I feel I owe you the truth about our family. Yes, Theodore Bowman was a racist, I think of the worst kind.”
Lizzie felt her lips go dry. “What do you mean?” In her mind, she pictured her grandfather as the grand whatever they’re called of the local KKK.
As if reading her mind, Aunt Beverley continued, “He was not a member of any organization. He did not harass the marchers for civil rights, rather he was passive, made derogatory comments, never treated a colored person with any kind of respect, they were invisible to him, people to keep his laundry clean and his yard immaculate.”
Lizzie sighed in relief; she wasn’t sure she could have handled the news he was a member of a hate group. “I have to say I’m glad to know he didn’t wear a white sheet, but how awful that he thought that way.”
“You have to remember the time he was raised in. He was not a man who changed readily and even though he was active in the church, I don’t think he really let the message of the church touch his heart.” Aunt Beverley paused to wipe a tear away from her eye.
“I’m sorry if this is upsetting for you.” Lizzie reached out her hand and placed it on Aunt Beverley’s arm.
“It’s hard to face the truth about family sometimes. I think we like to keep the ugly locked up and just bring out the pretty for show and tell. I have had some hard truths to face about my sister and her husband, even my own parents. Sometimes I think that was one of the reasons I was willing to live so far away from home for so long. Even when we came back, I urged my husband to settle us down in Hilton Head, close to home, but far enough from daily reminders.”
“If it is not too much to ask, I would love to understand better about the hard truths.”
Aunt Beverley nodded. “I knew from the beginning that my sister was abused. Not in the physical sense, but Ted kept his Annabeth on a short tether. Much like my own mother was by my father. I don’t know what my mother was like when she was young, but when I became aware of her as a person, I realized she didn’t think or do anything my father didn’t approve first. Annabeth was the same way with Ted.”
Aunt Beverley laughed, “If you think about it, that’s what was so stunning about that day the photograph was taken, it is one of the few times my sister rebelled and did something on her own.”
Lizzie smiled, “It seems Annabeth still had spirit inside her somewhere.”
“She did until your mother left, I think that’s what finally erased any trace of spirit.”
Lizzie bristled, “I don’t think you can blame that on my mother!”
Now it was Aunt Beverley’s turn to pat Lizzie’s arm in comfort. “You misunderstand me, dear. I don’t blame your mother; I think she made the only choice she could have. What I meant was Annabeth’s fire, as low as it was, finally extinguished with the loss of her youngest child.”
Lizzie nodded, “I can see that.”
Aunt Beverley continued, “So your grandfather was racist and controlling, but he kept a roof over their heads, and he never raised a hand to any of them. My sister loved your mother, but she rarely took Caroline’s side or her own with Ted. She was weak that way, and I never could relate to that. Both Caroline and I were strong willed, though we learned young to hide that, me from my father, her from your grandfather. I think both of us planned to get away from home as early as we could. Remember I was much older than Caroline so we never really talked about it, but she studied what I did and emulated it as best she could.”
Lizzie listened intently and tried to picture her mother taking in all her aunt modeled for her. She imagined Caroline must have felt abandoned when Beverley left home and flew halfway around the world with her new husband. She felt sorry for Annabeth but also disappointed she didn’t stand up for herself. Then again, she didn’t know what it was like to walk in those shoes, or did she? Her mind took her back to her first marriage. She had not been as helpless as Annabeth, but she too had allowed a husband to manage her thoughts and friends. She shuddered at the memory; she could have been Annabeth.
Aunt Beverley noted the shudder, and misunderstanding it said, “I agree, I can’t imagine deferring to a husband all the time, but that was also expected to a degree in my mother’s time. I never understood what made Annabeth that way.”
“I was just thinking how I could have been Annabeth, in my first marriage. I was lucky to get out of that and move on to Bennett and our wonderful family.”
“When I married my darling Beau, I told him I would not abide being controlled like I had seen my mother as a stipulation to accepting his ring. He pledged we would be a partnership and we were. My only regret is that we never had any children.”
The door opened, and Bella, Aunt Beverley’s aide came in. “Ladies, service has started in the dining room.”
Aunt Beverley clicked on the power button to her chair. “I guess we should take a break then.”
Lizzie walked slowly beside Aunt Beverley’s chair, and they made their way to the large public dining room. It ran like a restaurant with a hostess to seat them and a menu to order from. There were white linens on the table and silverware and cloth napkins as well as a small vase of fresh flowers. There were a few tables for two, but most were for six. Aunt Beverley waved to a table of four ladies and led Lizzie to join them.
“Hello, my dears. Let me introduce my great-niece Elizabeth; she lives in the Charleston area.”
The quartet of silver heads around the table nodded and smiled. In turn, they introduced themselves.
“I’m Marilyn.”
“I’m Ann-Marie, we are pleased to meet you.”
“Come and sit Elizabeth, I’m Victoria.”
Lizzie came and sat in the chair next to her as the host moved the other chair so Aunt Beverley could pull her chair right next to it and transfer easily.
The last woman at the table, piped up, “I am Louisa, nice to meet you, Elizabeth.”
Lizzie turned to acknowledge her. “Likewise, please call me Lizzie.”
The six paused to look over their menus and place their orders. As they ate and talked, Lizzie looked around the room. She was amazed at how mobile and active the majority of the residents were. This was more like a college social scene for seniors. It was nice to see Aunt Beverley so relaxed and interacting with her peers. It was a nice break from their heavy conversation. Lizzie was still reeling from the stories about her grandfather. She had suspected he was not a person she would like, but it was disheartening to have her suspicions confirmed. How did my mother turn out so loving with parents like that? Her great-grandparents didn’t seem much better. Why did Beverley escape to a better life but not Annabeth? Lizzie knew she was not always the most confident woman, but she liked to think she would never have made Annabeth’s choices had she been in her shoes. Aunt Dorothy would tell her no one can really know what it’s like to walk in another person’s shoes. Lizzie looked around the table and that familiar pain of missing Aunt Dorothy returned. She was enjoying getting to know Aunt Beverley, but she understood it would never be the close bond she had with Aunt Dorothy. How could it be? I knew Aunt Dorothy all my life.
Her eyes met Aunt Beverley’s gaze across the table, and the niece and great-aunt smiled at each other. I need to make the most of my time with her. They may not have had a lifetime together, but Aunt Beverley was the only family left to connect to her mother. Hopefully, they would have some good years ahead to grow a bond.
After lunch, Aunt Beverley headed for her daily nap and Lizzie went back to her room to study some of the photos and papers that Aunt Beverley had found for her. Every time she found a photo of her grandfather she cringed. Was it possible to loathe someone you’d never met? She tried to imagine what it must have been like to live under his roof. She understood how her mother had reached the conclusion that leaving was her best option. Disheartened by the truth of who her grandfather was, she put those items aside. Lizzie w
ent to her bags and pulled out her mother’s senior high school yearbook and tabbed pages showing her mother and various friends. Then, feeling restless, she left the suite to stroll around the gardens.
After wandering along the paths for the better part of an hour, she saw Bella, Aunt Beverley’s aide approaching.
“Miss Lizzie, Miss Beverley is ready to take tea and talk with you some more.”
Lizzie smiled, “Give me a moment to grab a book I need from my room, and I will be right there.”
Lizzie followed Bella back inside and hastened to grab the yearbook. She knew it was probably not a good idea to keep Aunt Beverley waiting.
Aunt Beverley had arranged for a tea cart of tempting bites, much like her first visit with M.A. This was an afternoon ritual Lizzie could learn to live with. Once a few pleasantries were exchanged, Lizzie moved to sit next to Aunt Beverley. She opened the yearbook to the first page she had tabbed.
Lizzie pointed to a picture taken at a homecoming weekend event. “Do you know anything about this Melanie Graham that’s here with Caroline?”
Aunt Beverley adjusted her glasses and ran her fingers across the picture. “Oh, this is so how I picture your mother in my mind. So vivacious! Yes, Melanie Graham was your mother’s best friend. She went away at St. Mary’s, as was her family’s tradition, after high school and she was off on an extended trip to Europe when your mother left home.”
“Do you know what happened to her? Is she in the area?” Lizzie asked.
“I’m not sure. But I would think Martha Ann Black would know. She knows everything about everyone in Beaufort. Bless her heart.”
Lizzie glanced sideways at Aunt Beverley, instinct told her Aunt Beverley did not think much of busybodies and she had to agree with her. However, if a busybody could help her know her mother, then she would tolerate all the gossip it took.
“When I head to Beaufort, I will check in with her.”
Aunt Beverley patted Lizzie’s hand. “Let’s look at some more of these photos.”
Looking through the book brought lots of emotional responses from Aunt Beverley but not much information on friends of Caroline. The ones she did remember, she recalled as elementary school children, she had been in Europe at the time Caroline was in high school.
They separated to rest and dress for dinner. Saturday night was surf and turf night in the dining room with a piano player and cabaret singer for entertainment. The men wore dinner jackets, and the women were sparkling with their best jewelry. I’m glad a packed some fancy rags. Lizzie fit right in with her green silk dress and cream shrug with pearl trim. She had taken care to wear Caroline’s emerald earrings and cocktail ring.
Aunt Beverley rolled up in flowing navy palazzo pants and a lace navy shell topped with a stunning chartreuse raw silk jacket. She wore a knotted strand of large pearls and an emerald cut sapphire ring embellished with diamonds. “Oh, I’m so glad to see you have Caroline’s emeralds! Do you have the pendant as well?”
Lizzie reached up and touched her ear. “Yes, I do. Do you know the story or stories behind these pieces?”
“I do, my dear. Let’s get seated and I will tell you all about them.”
The maître-de lead them to one of the tables for two. Lizzie waved to the ladies from lunch who were already enjoying their steak and lobster tail as they passed and they waved back.”
Glasses of Prosecco in hand, Aunt Beverley returned to the subject of Caroline’s jewelry. “The earrings were a gift from Annabeth and Ted on Caroline’s eighteenth birthday. I was given sapphires.” My parents gave Caroline the ring for the same occasion and from my Aunt Helen, she was Caroline’s great-aunt, came the pendant. The pendant was a family heirloom that Aunt Helen had gotten from her mother. She did not have any children, so she handed it down to Caroline.”
“I thought the pendant was a lot older than the other pieces.” Lizzie spread some pâté onto a slice of baguette.
“It was, but the ring and the earrings were chosen to coordinate with the pendant. This sapphire ring I’m wearing is also a family heirloom; it belonged to mine and Annabeth’s grandmother. Annabeth got the family pearls. I have them; I should give them to you to pass on to Dot.”
Lizzie drained the last of her glass. “Are you sure you want to part with them? They are a tie to your sister.”
Aunt Beverley laid her hand on her chest. “I carry Annabeth in here. Besides I am tickled that I have family to pass things on to.”
The waiter brought their plates and replenished their sparkling wine. The conversation lulled as steaks were cut and lobster tail was dipped in clarified butter. Supper was even more impressive than lunch had been. This is not your grandmother’s retirement home. Lizzie savored her meal and found her toes tapping in time with the music.
After the dinner plates had been cleared, the waiter brought a delectable crème caramel. Lizzie sighed, “I certainly couldn’t eat like this every day, but every bite of this meal has been wonderful!”
Aunt Beverley waved her hand around indicating the room. “When you get to be our age, you have to demand that your limited time is spent enjoying the good life.”
Lizzie lightly dabbed her lips with her napkin. “Well, Serene Oaks doesn’t disappoint on the good life.”
“Speaking of the good life, I think we should move to the library for a little Saturday night socializing before we retire. I usually go to the church for the eleven o’clock service. If you don’t mind driving me, we can go out for brunch afterward.”
Lizzie laughed and lay her napkin down on the table. “I would be happy to take you to church in the morning, I just can’t get up too much enthusiasm for brunch at the moment, but I’m sure I’ll be ready when the time comes.”
After church and brunch Aunt Beverley begged off for her nap, and Lizzie was left to wander the grounds of Serene Oaks. She began a repeat of her garden walk from yesterday, but the humidity clung to her skin and not a leaf stirred. The air-conditioned halls beckoned. Lizzie walked the corridors trying to burn off her eggs benedict with crab cakes. She stumbled onto an alcove where the ladies she had met at lunch were gathered around a table. Louisa was dealing cards.
“Hello, ladies!”
“Hello, enjoying your time with Beverley?” Victoria asked.
“Yes, and at Serene Oaks, you have quite a set up here.” Lizzie sat down in one of the empty chairs.
“Would you like to play?” Louisa asked.
Lizzie shook her head. “Oh, no I’ll just watch. Which one of you has the coupe of scooters?” Lizzie pointed at a racy red scooter with even more buttons than Aunt Beverley’s model.
“Oh, that’s mine. Would you like to take it for a spin?” Anne Marie asked.
Lizzie looked again at the scooter, it might be fun, but Ann Marie is probably just being polite. “Oh, that’s alright, it just looks like it would be fun.”
Anne Marie thumped the table with her hand. “All the more reason why you should give it a whirl. Besides, we would love if you would fetch us some diet cokes from the beverage center.”
A little nudge was all Lizzie needed, and before she knew it, she was moving along at a fair clip. She passed a few residents who were quite surprised to see such a young woman riding along on Anne Marie’s scooter.
She parked by the beverage center and collected diet cokes for the ladies and one for herself, placing them into the handy basket on the front of the scooter. Lizzie did a three point turn to reverse her course and headed back to her card playing friends.
She whizzed around the corner to the next corridor, when she heard Aunt Beverley’s voice call out to her.
“Having fun, dear?”
Lizzie turned her head to look behind at Aunt Beverley and gave her a thumbs up.
“Watch out!”
Lizzie turned around just in time to see two residents shuffling towards her on walkers. Oh, no! Lizzie tried to engage the hand brake but instead accelerated forward; she frantically steered the scooter straight into
an upholstered settee to avoid the duo on walkers.
On impact, one of the diet coke cans flew up and hit her smack in the forehead. Lizzie fell off the side onto the thick patterned carpet that covered the corridors like those in a luxury hotel. A bright light above her momentarily blinded her.
“Is this really how my life is going to end?”
“No dear, but perhaps we are still a wee bit young to have scooter privileges.” Aunt Beverley had pulled up beside her.
The two residents on walkers hovered above her. One of them pushed their call button, and a voice asked what the problem was.
“We’ve had a scooter accident in the Port Royal corridor,” one of them said.
She heard feet come running and an aide knelt beside her to evaluate her condition.
“I think I can sit up,” Lizzie managed to say. She allowed the aide to help her up gently and she leaned against the wall behind her. Touching her forehead, she could already feel a goose egg forming.
The aide went to get some ice, and Aunt Beverley called another aide to deliver the scooter and the diet cokes.
Lizzie could only imagine the story the aide would tell. “Was the scooter damaged?” she managed to ask Aunt Beverley.
“Those scooters are tough, not even a scratch, can’t say the same about you.” Aunt Beverley chuckled, “You, my grand-niece, can be quite entertaining.”
Chapter Ten
The breakfast tray had arrived with fresh blueberries, yogurt, and croissants. Lizzie poured the coffee and lamented the fact this was her last morning at Serene Oaks. I could get used to this lifestyle. She pulled apart a croissant and spooned on some raspberry jam. The buttery layers melted in her mouth. The lump on her forehead was finally going down, and careful application of her makeup kept the changing colors under cover.
Lizzie had gone through lots of family photos and a few letters written by Annabeth. The photos from Caroline’s early years always showed her happy and oblivious to the tensions evident by her parents. The ones from age ten and older showed Caroline with the same fake smile as her mother plastered on her face. Sometimes her eyes betrayed her misery; sometimes it was evident in her body language. The pictures in the yearbook were different. In several shots with Cole, she looked genuinely in love. With her friends, she looked carefree. Lizzie found solace in the idea the school and friends were bright spots in Caroline’s life. She loathed the fact that her home life was not. Lizzie was only five when her parents died, but she distinctly remembered a loving and content home. Now she marveled at how Caroline created that without the benefit of experiencing such a home herself.
