The Soul Believes It

by Julie Allan

  This last morning, Lizzie wanted to focus on the here and now with Aunt Beverley. Both were weary from traveling the bumpy ground of memory lane. Aunt Beverley had reopened many old wounds in an effort to help Lizzie understand where her mother had come from. The price of that was not lost on her, and she felt compelled to express her appreciation.

  Lizzie put on yoga pants, a t-shirt, and flip-flops and set off to collect Aunt Beverley from her suite. Lizzie had booked a few hours at the Serene Oaks spa for manicures, pedicures, and facials for the two of them.

  Aunt Beverley, wearing a flowing purple caftan, was more than ready. “I am so looking forward to our spa morning! It is so nice to have you here to do this with.”

  Lizzie held the door open for Aunt Beverley to maneuver out on her scooter. “I’m looking forward to it as well. This time with you has meant so much to me. Not just because you have shared so many truths about our family, more importantly, I feel connected to you now.”

  Aunt Beverley stopped her scooter and grabbed Lizzie’s hand. “I feel the same way, dear. It does this old heart good to hear you say it.” She moved her hand to her cheek and brushed away a tear that escaped down her cheek.

  Lizzie bent down to embrace her. “My mother was so lucky to have you as her aunt, and I am so blessed to have you in my life now.”

  Aunt Beverley patted Lizzie’s arm, “Not nearly as blessed as I am. Now, if we break down and blubber all over this hallway we’ll miss our spa appointment.” She released Lizzie and gripped her hand controls. They continued down the hall with the now familiar whir of the scooter setting the cadence.

  Two young girls greeted them at the door, one with cat eye glasses on a chain, led Aunt Beverley to her chair and assisted her with her shoes. The other, who introduced herself as Mellie, directed Lizzie to the chair next to Aunt Beverley’s.

  The warm jetted water swirled around Lizzie’s feet and the automated massage chair rolled against her back. The tension drained from her body. “Aah . . . This is just what I needed.”

  Aunt Beverley in the massage chair next to her nodded. “This is one of my favorite ways to relax.”

  Lizzie managed to keep the conversation light for a while. She got Aunt Beverley to talk about art and food. The conversation meandered to houses and decorating. Lizzie told her all about how she and Bennett had done some remodeling when they had moved into Aunt Dorothy’s. She shared that, after Aunt Dorothy had died, it was important to keep some things the same, to help her feel connected to her. Thoughts of family brought her back to Caroline, and she could not help but work her into the conversation.

  “Do you ever wonder if you would have reconnected with my mother? I mean if she had lived.”

  Aunt Beverley took a sip of her smoothie. “I’m sure we would have continued to keep in touch, despite her rift with Annabeth and Ted. I would like to think she might have brought you to Europe to visit me or that I would have come to Charleston to visit you.”

  The attendant scrubbed Aunt Beverley’s feet with a pumice stone, her glasses chain swinging in tempo with her movements. Aunt Beverley sighed, and she fell silent momentarily. Lizzie glanced over, studying Aunt Beverley’s face. The line of her nose and the way her chin came to point reminded her of her mother’s face as well as the grandmother she never knew.

  The attendant drained the water and patted Aunt Beverley’s feet with a towel. “You know, I think Caroline would be so proud of the woman you are and of what a lovely job you have done raising your family.”

  Lizzie blushed. “I’d like to think so. Sometimes I am sad that I didn’t get to grow up with her and that Dot and Sawyer never had the chance to meet her.”

  Aunt Beverley handed her girl a bottle of fuchsia polish. “I still have a tough time accepting that fact that she died so young, but I’m so pleased she found love and a fulfilling life with your father. She deserved the happiness after all she went through.”

  Lizzie watched as Mellie expertly applied the pale pink polish to her toes. “Happiness and laughter are what I remember most about my parents. That, and how beautiful my mother was and how safe my daddy’s arms felt.”

  “Those are memories to hang on to. While our mother was beautiful, neither Annabeth and I had warm memories of our parent’s home. I was lucky that with my dear Beau, we had lots of laughter. I was always sad that Annabeth and Ted did not.”

  “Bennett and I have had our share of challenges, but we have always had lots of laughter and love between us.” Lizzie stood to follow her attendant to the facial area.

  Aunt Beverley, leaning on the arm of her attendant followed. “That is the best kind of marriage to have.”

  After rejuvenating facials. They moved on to manicures. Aunt Beverley, opting to match her toes, and Lizzie going for a buff and clear polish. Aunt Beverley had arranged for a private lunch in the guest dining room. Lizzie entertained Aunt Beverley with stories from her childhood and Dot and her boyfriend Hudson. Then Lizzie had to pack her things. It was harder to part company than Lizzie had ever imagined.

  Aunt Beverley rode her scooter out to the front driveway so she could wave Lizzie off. Lizzie kissed her on the cheek, and they embraced.

  “My dear, you have brought so much joy to an old lady. I hope you will come back soon and bring the rest of the family. I really want to meet that wonderful husband of yours and your son.” A tear escaped the corner of her eye, and she brushed it away like she was swatting away a fly.

  “I hate being emotional, but I’m glad for the reason. I thought family was lost to me. Now I know someone will miss me when I’m gone.”

  “I think I can get us all together for at least a day trip. We could come down and take you out on the town.” Lizzie laid her hand on Aunt Beverley’s shoulder.

  Aunt Beverley patted her hand. “Don’t wait too long; I’m past my life expectancy. You could say I’m on borrowed time.”

  “I promise to make it soon, but I think someone as feisty as you will be around for many days to come.” Lizzie gave her one last kiss and got into the car.

  Lizzie made the short trip back up the coast to Beaufort and made her way to the now familiar Port Republic Street. Since she was by herself, she’d booked a room in the lovely Pink Victorian instead of one of the cottages that she had stayed in when she was with M.A. Her room had antique furniture and sumptuous silk drapes at the windows. Fresh flowers were on the table between two chairs. The four-poster rice bed looked inviting, and Lizzie climbed on for a quick nap.

  The afternoon sun flooded through the west facing windows and Lizzie stretched herself awake. She closed the blinds, and the pulled the drapes to avoid the afternoon build-up of heat. It was too late to catch Martha at the church, and she didn’t want to call her, so she slipped her sandals back on her feet and grabbed her purse.

  Lizzie walked a block over and began to pop in and out of the various shops along Bay Street. She found an Escapada tunic for Dot’s birthday and in the used bookstore, an old coffee table book commemorating the one-hundredth anniversary of the Citadel for Sawyer. The bookstore had a great display of books by author Pat Conroy, a Citadel alum who had called Beaufort home for years. A Literary Center had been established in his name, and the proprietor of the bookstore explained to Lizzie that it was open for the public to go and see some memorabilia from his life.

  Lizzie walked to the center just around the corner on Charles Street. Playing tourist was fun. It was surprising that his manuscripts had been written by hand, rather than typed on a computer. She could not imagine how hard it must have been for whoever had to upload the words into the computer. His actual writing desk was part of the exhibit along with his chair and bookshelves full of books he kept around him. It made her want to re-read his books.

  She made her way back to the café where she had dined with M.A. and ate an early dinner. The early evening breeze beckoned her out to the walk along the water. The waterfront vistas tugged at her heart. Looking out to where the water kissed the sky
always caught her breath. The waving marsh grasses and the majestic egrets gave wings to her heart. It was low tide, so she inhaled deeply. The pluff mud’s aroma wafted towards her, wrapping her in an invisible embrace. The lowcountry’s magic assaulted all the senses, and if you welcomed it, it imprinted on your soul. Either you loved it, or you didn’t, Lizzie couldn’t imagine not loving it, she was certain that the brackish water flowed with the blood through her veins. I wonder if Annabeth and Ted felt that love. I wonder if Caroline did. Lizzie had always credited her Aunt Dorothy and Uncle George for instilling that love in her, but maybe it went deeper. Maybe it was passed down in the genes, the love of this place.

  She walked along past the houses looking out across the water until her legs began to burn. The sun was starting to slip to the western horizon, and reluctantly she turned back around and made her way back to the inn. Tomorrow she would try to find out about Melanie Graham.

  The inn served a tasty breakfast, and Lizzie lingered over a second cup of coffee before venturing out. The summer heat was in full swing, and this morning the humidity hung thick, clinging to her as she walked the few blocks to the church. Her bag weighted down with her mother’s yearbook banged against her. She walked past her grandparent’s grave with barely a glance. She could not bring herself to acknowledge them, still unsettled by the way they had just let her mother go and the revelations about the kind of people they were.

  Martha Ann was at her desk. “Lizzie! How nice to see you again. Are you still doing family research?”

  “Nice to see you, Martha Ann. I am. Thanks again for helping me locate my great-aunt Beverley, we have been able to connect, and she has helped me learn a lot about my mother’s side of the family. I was hoping you might help me locate someone else.”

  Martha Ann smiled. Lizzie could tell she was pleased to be considered a source of information.

  “I would be happy to help. Who are you trying to locate?”

  Lizzie sat down in the chair in front of the desk and pulled Caroline’s yearbook from her bag. “I was hoping you would know how I could find Melanie Graham.” Lizzie opened to the page with Melanie and Caroline working on a mural in one of the school’s hallways.

  Martha Ann peered at the photo. Melanie Graham . . . Hmmm. I remember the family . . . I’m trying to remember who she married.”

  Martha Ann got up and went to the bank of file cabinets across the room. After a moment of staring at the drawers, she selected one and began running her fingers along the spines of what appeared to be ledger books.

  “I thought it might be in here.” She pulled out a ledger and brought it over to the desk.

  “We’re trying to get all this information uploaded on the computers, but it has been quite the job. We are finally in the 1900’s.”

  Lizzie nodded politely, willing Martha Ann to get on with it. Martha Ann opened the book and turned the pages until she reached September 1973. She ran her finger down the page stopping at an entry mid-way.

  “Yes, here it is. Melanie Roberta Graham married Robert Lee Fulton on September 14, 1973. Oh, look!”

  Lizzie leaned in.

  “It seems your mother was one of the witnesses. She signed it Caroline Sawyer.”

  So, she did come back to Beaufort after she married Daddy! I wonder if she saw her parents? She didn’t want to invite any questions by voicing her thoughts so, instead, she said, “Marvelous, any ideas how I can find Melanie Graham Fulton?”

  Martha Ann sat back down in her chair. “Let me call my friend Alice, I think she might know what happened to the Fultons. I believe they moved away.”

  Lizzie leaned back and retrieved her notebook to write down Melanie’s married name. She looked around at the shelves crammed with books and the stack of ledgers next to a computer set up on a table in the corner. She could only imagine how difficult it was to enter the data from a church that was centuries old. What a perfect place for Martha Ann, surrounded by records of many of the people in this community.

  Martha Ann hung up the phone. “You won’t believe this one. Melanie and Robert Fulton live in your town of Mount Pleasant.” She handed Lizzie a slip of paper with an address in Hamlin Plantation off of Rifle Range Road.

  “My mother’s best friend, just miles from me all this time!” Lizzie shook her head in disbelief and rose from her chair. “I can’t thank you enough Martha Ann. If I need to find anyone else I will certainly call on you.”

  Lizzie put the yearbook back in her bag, and Martha Ann walked her to the door. “You know where to find me. Travel home safe.”

  “I will.” Lizzie gave Martha Ann a quick hug and headed back to the inn.

  Lizzie pulled into the driveway and turned off the car. She sat for a moment and drank in the view. She loved this house. Not many people had the good fortune to live in the same house they had grown up in. So many memories were tied to this house. Its very foundation was love.

  She had not stayed another night in Beaufort, opting to drive home so that she could attempt to contact Melanie Graham Fulton as soon as possible. The early evening sea breeze had kicked in, and the Spanish moss fluttered on the live oak trees. The geraniums that flanked the porch looked a little parched, but she could tell Sawyer had come home from his downtown summer apartment to mow the lawn. He was interning at a civil engineering firm for the summer and rooming with several other cadets.

  She walked around to the back porch and was surprised to see about a dozen beer cans and bottles littering her usually pristine wicket coffee table. She unlocked the back door and entered the kitchen. The smell of stale beer assailed her, and the kitchen table along with half the counter by the sink was worse than the table on the porch.

  Lizzie quickly took inventory of the rest of the downstairs and was relieved to see the other rooms were still intact.

  Lizzie grabbed a seltzer water from the fridge, taking her cell phone, she walked down to the dock where another dozen or so beer bottles stood sentry along the edge. Lizzie sat down in her Adirondack chair and called her son.

  “Hey Mama, are you enjoying your trip.”

  “I did, Son, until I came home and found my porch, kitchen, and dock had turned into a fraternity house.”

  “Uh . . . Sorry about that, I had a few friends over yesterday when I came to mow the lawn, and we had some beers. I was going to come back after work today to clean it up.”

  Lizzie shook her head. “A few friends? A few beers? I think I need to reteach you the concept of a few.”

  “It was six guys plus me, I swear.”

  Lizzie could hear the panic in Sawyer’s voice. It reminded her of their conversations after some of his high school shenanigans. “Relax Son, you aren’t really in trouble. I’m just disappointed that you wouldn’t be more responsible and clean up after yourself. The lawn looks good by the way.”

  “I am headed that way in about twenty minutes. I will get it all in the recycling bin.”

  “Could I convince you to stay and have dinner with your mama?”

  “Absolutely!”

  Lizzie hung up and relaxed for a moment. She watched as a pelican swooped down to the water, then flapped away with dinner. Reluctantly she stood and turned to face the house. The evening sun cast a glow reflected in the windows. She sighed, sometimes the most pleasing views were those of home.

  In the kitchen, she poked around in the fridge and pantry. Then looking around at the bottles and cans creating the aroma of a brewery, she made an executive decision. After Sawyer had cleaned up, they were going out.

  Lizzie left a scented candle burning in the center of the kitchen table, and she and Sawyer headed out for Thai food. She could not remember the last time she had spent time with Sawyer alone.

  Once they ordered, she peppered him with questions about his job, his friends and if he was still seeing that girl Maggie.

  “I like the work okay; not sure I want to do it forever. Dad will be happy to know I’m reconsidering his offer to work with him after graduatio
n next year.”

  Lizzie smiled, “Yes that will make your father very happy. So, are you avoiding the topic of Maggie?”

  “No, it’s just she went to work at Walt Disney all summer, and I’ve been hanging out with a girl named Meredith the last few weeks.”

  Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “Oh, define hanging out.”

  “She’s a friend of my roommate Derek’s girlfriend. She is working at Wild Dunes this summer, but will be going back to Columbia College next month.”

  Lizzie nodded, “Just in time for Maggie to come back to the College of Charleston.”

  Sawyer blushed, “Maggie and I agreed we could be free this summer and see where things stand once we get back to school.”

  Lizzie reached out and patted Sawyer’s hand, “As long as you’re respectful to both. You know your father and I expect you to treat any girl as you would want me or your sister to be treated.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I promise I have.”

  The waiter arrived with their Pad Thai. Between bites, Lizzie told him all about her visit with Aunt Beverley, her promise to bring the whole family down, and her discovery of Melanie.

  After dinner, Sawyer drove her home and headed back across the bridge. Lizzie was relieved that the kitchen’s brewery aroma had been replaced by a blend of magnolia and lemon verbena.

  She blew out the candle and threw her laundry into the machine. Then she settled into the living room and found a good British mystery to watch. The only thing missing was Bennett and some four-legged company.