Islands

by Anne Rivers Siddons

  It was a diamond day, when even the light trembles in glittering shards. The tiny new green leaves glittered, the light chop on the creek was like dancing tinfoil, and the sky was so blue that it hurt to look at it. The fresh smell of damp loam and pine from somewhere came in on the wind. When Henry got out and unfolded the wheelchair and helped Camilla into it, we all cheered, and she smiled the old enigmatic, V-shaped Camilla smile. Britney came dashing up to her and laid a bouquet of early tulips on her lap.

  “Mama got them for me to give you,” she said shyly.

  “Thank you, dear,” Camilla said. “Tulips are my favorite.”

  Britney squirmed with pleasure and dashed off after the little dog, who was yipping frantically on the bank of the creek.

  “Bring her closer to the house, Britney,” Lila called. “I don’t like her being so close to the water. Not with that gator around.”

  “I’ve never seen the gator around here, Miz Howard,” Britney said.

  “Just do it, Brit,” Gaynelle said briefly, and Britney did.

  I had bought Camilla a new lavender cashmere cardigan, and we draped it around her, over her housecoat, as we sat on the porch for lunch. She looked revived, reborn, pink flushed in spite of the garish bruise that made us all wince.

  “This is heaven,” she said, closing her eyes and breathing in the sweet breeze. “Why would anybody want to be anywhere else?”

  “Except maybe that gorgeous loft of yours, or Anny’s perfect little jewel of a house on Bull Street,” Lila said. “And as for Henry, with that wonderful old pile on Bedon’s Alley—”

  “It’s decided,” Camilla said. “We’re staying. Except if I can persuade Anny to go home and just come on weekends. She’s a pretty young woman still. She ought to be somewhere there’s companionship and a little fun—”

  “I’m staying,” I said. “End of discussion. Don’t you think I love it out here, too?”

  Camilla studied me, and then smiled and nodded.

  Gaynelle brought out trays of shrimp salad and tomato aspic and fresh-baked cheese straws, and we had a wonderful, light trifle with fresh berries for dessert. After coffee, Henry went out and scooped Britney up from the lawn and carried her off, squealing and giggling, for a ride in the Whaler.

  “Did you put Honey in the house?” Lila shouted after her.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Britney called, and they glided slowly out of sight down the creek. Camilla wanted a nap, and Gaynelle settled her and went into my kitchen, where she had made lunch, to wash up. Lila and I went out to the end of the dock and sat in the sun, swinging our legs.

  “This reminds me a little of the island,” Lila said. “When we’d sit out on the dock and wait for the guys to come in from sailing. Does it you?”

  “No,” I said. “That’s one reason I can stay here. It’s just itself. It’s not much a part of any other time in my life.”

  She nodded in understanding.

  “But you do think about the beach?”

  “Oh, Lila. Every day. Every day.”

  “You’ve been braver than I could ever be,” she said, and squeezed my hand.

  “I’ve got a good support team,” I said.

  She turned to face me.

  “People are asking me if there’s anything, you know, between you and Henry. I mean, being out here all the time and all…”

  “Lewis was it for me, Lila,” I said, annoyed. I didn’t want Charleston’s ceaseless speculations to stain the creek for me.

  “Besides,” I said, “I thought it might be Henry and Camilla. I mean, Lewis said they were so close before Charlie came along….”

  “Well, they were. Almost joined at the hip. We were all surprised, but Charlie came, and that was it. But he’s been gone a long time.”

  “Lewis once said there was just too much history between them,” I said, and she nodded.

  “That can happen.”

  After a while a brisk little wind came up, and we grew chilly. We got up and ambled toward our houses, agreeing to meet for lunch one day soon, after my half day at the office. I was suddenly stunned with sleepiness, and wanted a long nap. Lila said she had to get back to Charleston. We hugged briefly, and I turned into my walkway and went inside my little house. It was cool and silent. My lids were heavy.

  When it came, Lila’s scream literally made the hair at the back of my neck stand up. It was almost an inhuman sound, an animal howl. I dashed for her house, my heart pounding in my chest. Gaynelle came out of the kitchen, running.

  Lila stood on her front porch, tears streaming down her face.

  “She left the door open,” she sobbed. “The front door was wide open when I got here. Honey isn’t anywhere; I’ve looked all over. It’s been at least two hours. She’s gone down to the creek, I know she has. I told that child to close the door, and she said she had….”

  We looked for Honey until dark. When Henry brought Britney in from the creek, Lila came screaming down on her, and Gaynelle stepped in front of her daughter. Henry put his arms around Lila, and led her to her porch. We could hear Camilla calling agitatedly from her house, “What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” Gaynelle, tight-mouthed, sent the sobbing Britney inside, and joined the search. We scoured the creek and the marsh, and Henry even took out the kayak, so he could be closer to the water and the bank. But there was no sign of the little white dog. Neither was there any sign of the gator.

  Lila wanted to stay the night and look, but Henry convinced her to go home.

  “We’ll keep looking,” he said. “We’ve got the security lights. She’s probably gotten lost, or she’s hiding. Don’t you remember how Sugar used to hide when she thought you were going to take her home from the beach?”

  “It’s not the same thing,” Lila sobbed. “I know Honey is gone. I just know. I want an apology from that child, and then I don’t ever want to see her anywhere near my house again.”

  Gaynelle came in from ministering to Britney.

  “Miz Howard, she says she’s sure she closed the door. She double-checked. You know how much she loves that little dog. I’ve never known her to be careless that way.”

  “Just keep her out of my house,” Lila said. Her face was red and swollen; her eyes were sealed shut with grief.

  “She’s not likely to want to go in it,” Gaynelle said levelly.

  “And I’m waiting for an apology.”

  “Well, you’re not getting one from my daughter. If she said she didn’t do it, she didn’t,” Gaynelle flared.

  The two women stood glaring at each other, and then Lila, still sobbing, went home. Gaynelle took her stricken daughter home. Henry and I went in to check on Camilla. She was sleeping, so we went out again. We searched with flashlights until midnight, we called and called and called. But we never saw Honey, and nobody ever did again.

  The next weekend Lila and Simms left for a month in the Grenadines, which, Simms said, was some of the best sailing in the world.

  “They won’t come back,” Camilla said bitterly at dinner the night that they left. “Not to the creek. I know Lila. I knew we might lose them. But I never thought it would be over the cleaning woman’s juvenile delinquent.”

  Henry and I looked at each other, but we did not speak. Neither of us really thought Britney had left the door open, but we did not know what precisely had happened, and in any event, it was not the time to challenge Camilla about it. We all felt the loss of Lila and Simms and the little dog deeply. First, let the healing begin.

  15

  BRITNEY WOULD NOT COME BACK to the creek. No matter how we coaxed, and offered Whaler excursions and swimming afternoons and hamburger suppers on the grill, she dug in her heels and set her small mouth and refused.

  “What’s wrong?” Henry and I asked Gaynelle over and over. “She must know we don’t blame her about Honey. And you’ve told her, haven’t you, that she won’t have to see Lila again? We miss Britney so much. She’s a breath of life in this place.”

  “I’ve told her all
that,” Gaynelle said. “It doesn’t do any good. She won’t come and she won’t talk about it. She cried for a long time after that day, but she doesn’t do that now. She just seems…sad. She loved that little dog. And nobody has ever talked to her the way Miz Howard did.”

  Gaynelle herself had lost some of her insouciant sparkle, though none of her energy and competence. I thought that she was thinner, too. Her shorts hung loose on her now, and you could see her ribs plainly under her cropped T-shirt. The weight loss made the astonishing breasts even more so. Somehow, the sight of them, jutting bravely out over Gaynelle’s ribs, made me sad.

  Pain flared in Henry’s eyes. Then it was gone. His face was back to the noncommittal mask he had worn lately. I knew that he was very angry with Lila, and puzzled about the little dog. But mostly, he missed Britney. His missing her hurt me.

  “What does she do after school now?” I asked, when Britney first refused to accompany her mother to the creek.

  “JoAnne takes her,” Gaynelle said. “It’s all right. She’s got a girl only three years older than Brit. It’s a big gap, though. I don’t think either one of them particularly wants to be friends. I’ve found a new pageant school for her, on James Island. This woman has run pageants for thirty years, and she knows what she’s doing. She takes only about five girls at a time. I was really pleased to get Britney in. Miz Delaporte works them like mules, five afternoons a week, but Britney’s learning all the tricks. Miz Delaporte says she’s a natural.”

  “Will you let us pay for it?” I said, horrified at the thought of Britney back on the wheel of a pageant mill, but knowing better than to say so. “It could be a birthday present from Henry and me.”

  “Mr. Howard sent me a check,” Gaynelle said, not looking at us. “He was very generous. I’m using that. It’s only fitting.”

  Henry and I looked at each other, but said no more.

  Camilla never commented on Britney’s absence. Gaynelle was, with Camilla, her usual sunny self. She very seldom let Camilla out of her sight, and then only when one of us was near. But she did not stay for dinner anymore, and T. C. did not come often now.

  “I miss you all,” I said. “I feel like we’ve lost family. I don’t think I could stand it if you were unhappy with us now.”

  “No. You are family. And I’m not going to leave. Not while Miz Curry needs so much help.”

  “I know,” I said. “It’s like she’s quit fighting. She lies in that bed all the time now, except when we have her up in the chair and at meals. I hate to see it. Her strength and will have always been the things that held us up.”

  “I don’t think she’s lost the will,” Gaynelle said. “She’s tearing those notebooks up. I went to pick up one that had slid off the bed, and she was down my throat like a missile.”

  “I hope that’s true,” I said. “She’s pretty frail when she’s with us. Of course, that’s usually at the end of a long day.”

  In mid-February Henry took me on the back of the bike over to Gaynelle’s sister JoAnne’s house. It was a Saturday, and Britney was free from pageant school. Gaynelle was with Camilla. She insisted on coming to the creek when I told her what we wanted to do.

  “It would do Brit a world of good,” she said.

  And it did. When she heard the putting of the bike, Britney was out of the little cement-block house like a shot, and into Henry’s arms before he was off the bike.

  “I thought you would come,” she sang, hugging me as well as Henry. “I told Aunt JoAnne you would. I told T. C., too. You want to see my new pageant routine?”

  “No,” Henry said. “I want to take you and Anny over to Stanfield’s and get some ice cream.”

  “Yes!” she cried, giving him a high five.

  We drove over to the ice-cream parlor in JoAnne’s borrowed car, and sat out at cement tables under an umbrella eating ice cream. I had mint chocolate chip. Henry chose cherry vanilla. Britney dug into a banana split and got most of it down before we were done with ours. Her grin was chocolate rimmed.

  “Why won’t you come back to see us, Brit?” Henry said, finally and gently.

  After a moment she averted her eyes and said, “I’m afraid Honey is going to come floating up on the bank while I’m there, or half of her. And Miz Curry doesn’t want me there.”

  I flinched in pain at the image of the little dead dog. I knew the feeling. Hadn’t I fled my own dead husband when I still thought that he walked with pearls for eyes?

  “Sweetie, that’s not true about Camilla. And in any case, I don’t think you’d ever see her. She sleeps most of the time now.”

  “No, she doesn’t,” Britney said stubbornly. But that was all she would say.

  So we continued to see Britney at home or at her aunt’s, and late in February Henry took her a tiny Maltese puppy, and I think she was the happiest child that I have ever seen.

  “I’m going to name her Henrietta,” she caroled, clutching the wriggling puppy to her skinny chest. “And I’m never going to let her go outside. Not ever.”

  With only weekends to visit with Britney, we had a real dilemma about keeping Camilla company. Gaynelle solved it. She insisted on coming half days on Saturdays, while Camilla usually slept, so that we could have time with the child. We had argued with her.

  “You’d have literally no life but us,” I said. “We can alternate Saturdays. I can go one week and Henry the next. I can’t have you putting your life on hold just for us.”

  “You have no idea how happy it makes Brit,” she said. “I’d work twenty-four/seven to keep her this way. And I don’t want you by yourself with Camilla, Anny. It takes a strong ox like me to lift her. You don’t weigh as much as a dandelion now.”

  That night I took off my clothes and looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. I could not remember when I had done so. I could see my ribs, and, faintly, my hipbones, sights I had never seen before. I looked like somebody else entirely.

  “Would you know me now, Lewis?” I whispered. “What if you didn’t?”

  It was an unsettling thought, and so I pushed it out of my mind. I did not look again.

  On the last Saturday in February, Henry was up early, and prodded me out onto my porch. He was grinning broadly. Before I could ask what he thought was so funny, the familiar grumbling roar of bikes came down the sand road, and T. C. and Gaynelle came sweeping up to the turnaround, rooster tails of gravel pluming up behind them. T. C. rode the Rubbertail, and Gaynelle her pink Harley.

  “School’s in session,” T. C. called jovially, as if he had seen us only yesterday rather than weeks ago.

  “Henry, today is the day you learn the Rubbertail. And Anny, you are soloing on Henry’s 230.”

  “No!” I squealed.

  “Yes,” Henry said implacably.

  After a few wobbles, Henry proved to be a natural on the big, throbbing bike, and roared off down the road to the highway alone, trailing his own huge cloud of dust. I, on the other hand, was utterly inept. The little bike wobbled and spat and bucketed, and I cringed and dragged my feet and killed the engine over and over. But finally I made a wobbling circuit of the turnaround, and seemed to get the feel of the laboring little engine through the seat of my pants, and by the time Henry roared back in on the Rubbertail, I was cruising at a good enough clip so that the wind stung my face and my hair streamed back.

  “Way to go!” Henry cried, swinging off the Rubbertail and giving me a high five as I dismounted the 230, my legs buckling profoundly.

  “I knew you could do it!” Gaynelle called from the porch. I looked her way. She was standing behind Camilla on the shade-dappled porch, waving her clasped hands Rocky-like over her head. Camilla, in a new green-striped cotton caftan, and sunglasses, did not wave, but she smiled.

  “The flying Snopeses,” she called, and my face burned. I wondered if anyone caught the allusion to William Faulkner’s bestial backwoods tribe. I looked at Gaynelle and saw that she had. Well, of course, Gaynelle read everything. Her mouth thinned, but s
he said nothing.

  “Go on and do one more round,” she called out. “Camilla and I are making her mother’s crab cakes for lunch.”

  “She never leaves Camilla alone,” I said to Henry. “How did we get so lucky?”

  “I don’t know,” Henry said. “But it eases my mind a lot.”

  Late that afternoon, as I was getting dressed for dinner, having showered away about a pound of road dust, I reached for the heavy gold bracelet that Lewis had given me for our first anniversary, and could not find it. Since I rarely took it off, I was puzzled and then, after a thorough search, faintly alarmed. I remembered having taken it off before getting on the motorcycle, but I could not remember where I had put it.

  “Has anybody seen my gold bracelet?” I said at dinner. “I took it off this morning, but I don’t remember where I put it down. You all keep an eye out, will you?”

  There was a long silence, and then Camilla said, softly, “I’m missing some things, too. That little signet ring that was my grandmother’s, and a pair of emerald earrings Charlie brought me from somewhere or other. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised….”

  My head jerked up and I stared at her. In the candlelight, her face was serene. Her long eyelashes shuttered her eyes.

  “What do you mean, Camilla?” I said.

  “Nothing, really. Like you, I could easily have misplaced them,” she said. “I wasn’t even going to say anything, but when your bracelet went missing, I thought…”

  “If you were thinking Britney, you know she hasn’t been at the creek for three weeks,” I said.

  “I know,” Camilla said, still softly, still not raising her eyes.

  “If you mean you think…”

  She raised her eyes, finally. But she did not speak.

  “Never in a million years,” I said. “Not ever. I hope you aren’t thinking of talking to her about it. Because if you are—”