Lessons of a Lowcountry Summer

by Rochelle Alers

  “Congratulations!” Hope reached over and hugged her soon-to-be ex-neighbor.

  Rebecca swiped at her tears with her fingertips. “I suppose I’m freaking out for nothing. Women turn forty every day.”

  “That’s true, but not every forty-year-old woman has embarked on what you’re about to undertake. I’m the one with the Gullah roots, yet you’re the one who has assumed responsibility for preserving the culture.”

  The moisture in Rebecca’s eyes turned them into shimmering jewels. “I couldn’t have done it without you. It all started when you introduced me to Janie Smith.”

  “I hope we’re not going to lose touch with one another.”

  “Heavens no. You’re always welcome to stay with me if you ever come to Charleston. And of course we’ll see each other next summer. You have my address and phone numbers. I expect to hear from you.”

  “Of course you will, “ Hope promised.

  Rebecca stood up, and Hope rose with her. “I have to get back and finish packing.”

  Hope extended her arms, and she wasn’t disappointed when Rebecca hugged her. “Good luck, Sophie Lady.”

  Rebecca sniffled. “Good luck to you, too, Sophie Lady.”

  They pulled apart. Hope stood motionless, watching her friend until she disappeared from view. Then she walked into her house and closed and locked the door.

  Rebecca nodded to Helen. “I’d like to see Theo for a few minutes.”

  “He’s writing, but I don’t think he’d mind being interrupted.”

  “Tell him I only need a few minutes.”

  Helen walked away, leaving Rebecca standing in the middle of the living room. Her children had said their good-byes to the Andersons the night before. What had surprised the adults had been the tears. Noelle, Kyle, Ashlee and Brandon had wept openly, while Christian hadn’t bothered to come out of his bedroom.

  “Rebecca.”

  She turned and smiled at Theo. It was the first time she had seen him unshaven. “I just came to say good-bye.”

  He took several steps. “I thought we did that last night.”

  She clasped her hands together to stop their trembling. “We did. But I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Talk.”

  “It’s about Hope.”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s hurting, Theo. She needs you.”

  He lifted a black, curving eyebrow. “Did she say she needed me?”

  “No. She’d never say that.”

  “I’ve done all that I can to help her. What she’ll have to do is wait.”

  Rebecca’s nostrils flared with fury. “I don’t believe you.”

  “What is it you don’t believe, Rebecca?”

  “How can she fall in love with someone like you?” Turning on her heel, she ran out of the house, Theo steps behind her.

  He caught her arm, spinning her around to face him. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Nothing at all, Mr. Holly-wood! Now, take your hand off me.”

  Theo dropped his hand, watching as Rebecca got into her Mercedes and sped away amid a spray of gravel and a cloud of dust.

  He stood in the same spot for a long time—long enough for the sun to penetrate the shirt on his back and burn his flesh. He replayed her accusation over and over in his head: How can she fall in love with someone like you?

  He did not want to believe that Hope loved him. Nothing in the way she related to him indicated anything deeper than a mutual fondness for him. They’d slept together, but a lot of people slept together without falling in love.

  He shook his head. Rebecca was wrong. Hope did not love him.

  Hope went online. She had two new e-mails, both from Theo. She clicked on the first.

  Flickwriter: Hope you’re well. I decided to give you a little space to sort out your dilemma. Let me know if you need a shoulder.

  Flickwriter: We will be celebrating our last Sunday on McKinnon. You’re invited to dinner. Please try to come.

  Hope clicked on Reply.

  HelpDoc: I’m better, thank you. Thank you for understanding that I do need space at this time. I’ll let you know if I need your shoulder.

  She clicked on Reply to his second e-mail.

  HelpDoc: I’m going to decline your invitation for Sunday. Thank you for asking.

  Then she signed off.

  It was not the first time that Hope cursed not having a television in the house. At least she would be able to view the news without having to rely on her sister to give her updates on what had now become a scandalous exposé of Dr. Hope’s love life.

  Marissa repeated the commentary over the phone as she viewed Access Hollywood, E! True Hollywood Story, and Entertainment Tonight. A shock jock referred to her as Dr. Dope, who should’ve known better than to engage in kinky sex while masquerading as America’s moral conscience.

  Lana called to tell her that the press had camped out in front of Hope’s Harlem brownstone after William Cullen informed them that she worked from home.

  Someone from WLKV-Atlanta leaked the news that the owners of the radio station had withdrawn their offer to hire Dr. Hope for a late-night talk segment.

  Her attorney informed her that Kendall Clarke had gone into hiding, and that he could not move forward with the suit until he surfaced. His testimony was crucial to refuting his lover’s slanderous article.

  She hadn’t left the house in nearly a week, but she knew she could not continue to hide out much longer. The larder in her pantry was dwindling rapidly. She wondered how many on McKinnon were privy to what the outside world had found so intriguing.

  Hope got up early Saturday morning with the intention of going to Savannah to shop, but she was thwarted when she walked out of the house to find Theo sitting on the porch. “What are you doing here?”

  Theo came slowly to his feet and turned to face her. She gasped. The lower portion of his face was covered with a short black beard. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I came to see you because you didn’t come to me.”

  “Why would I come to you?”

  He angled his head. “I thought we were friends, Hope. And where I come from, friends look out for each other.”

  “You’ve looked out for me.”

  “I came to tell you some good news.”

  Her heart thudded. “What about?”

  “Your ex-boyfriend’s lover has recanted his story.”

  She took a step. “How do you know this?”

  “I have my sources. All I’ll say is the headline for next week’s Chatterer will read: I Lied about Dr. Hope.”

  She covered her mouth with trembling hands and fell against Theo. If he hadn’t caught her, she would have fallen. She couldn’t believe it. Did not want to believe it. It had taken one week for her world to be turned upside down and then righted.

  Tears of joy filled her eyes but did not fall. “Tell me, Theo. I need to know.”

  He led her over to the chaise, sat, and then eased her down to sit between his outstretched legs. “His name is Otis Pratt. He’s nothing more than a predator. He manages to find a way to get himself invited to upscale social events, where he spots his target, then goes in for the kill. It doesn’t matter if they are men or women. He will usually steal from women and blackmail men. It appears your ex-boyfriend refused to pay him to keep his mouth shut about his bisexuality, so he decided he could make more money by selling his story to the Chatterer for five thousand dollars.”

  “Five thousand dollars! He ruined my reputation for a stinking five thousand!”

  Theo shrugged a shoulder. “People have killed others for less.”

  “What else did your ‘source’ tell you?”

  “Nothing else,” he lied smoothly.

  Jay’s East Coast people had found Otis Pratt strolling out of a luxury apartment building on Central Park South. It had taken less than five minutes of several well-aimed blows to the midsection for Otis to regurgitate not o
nly his dinner but also all of his scams. A Chatterer reporter had been present, tape recorder in hand, when Otis had recanted his story. Otis’s next visitors had been from the NYPD, who’d handcuffed him and read him his rights.

  She smiled up at him. “How can I thank you, friend?”

  He flashed a lecherous smile. “I can think of a few ways.”

  Curving her arms around his neck, Hope kissed him. Not the wildly passionate kisses they’d shared before but a warm, soft, healing kiss. “I’m going to miss you so much,” she whispered against his lips.

  Theo stared at her under lowered lids. “Not as much as I’m going to miss you. Will you come see the kids before we leave?”

  “I can’t.” Biting down on her lower lip, she blinked back tears. “It would get sloppy, Theo. And that’s not how I want them to remember me.”

  His dark gaze moved slowly over her face, committing it to memory. “This is how I want to remember you.” Lowering his head, he kissed her. His mouth moved down the column of her neck. “And like this.” His marauding mouth tasted every inch of bared flesh until Hope moaned under the onslaught.

  “Come inside,” she gasped.

  Theo stood up, cradling her to his chest. He carried her into the house and to the bed where he had given her his heart. They took their time undressing each other, but being apart for more than a week increased their hunger for the other.

  He loved her with his body and his soul. Her soft moans and sighs as he pushed into her yielding flesh ignited a fire that refused to go out. He mapped her body with his tongue, sweeping away the memory of any other man who had glimpsed or touched her flesh. His hands sculpted the fullness of her breasts, hips. He breathed in the very essence that made Hope who she was, and when she cried out for release, he increased his thrusts until they reached the pinnacle of ecstasy that held them captive before hurtling them down into an abyss of passion that lingered well beyond their coupling.

  Theo felt Hope withdraw before he eased out of her warm body. She turned her back. “Good-bye, Theo.”

  He sat there, staring at the flawless skin of her back and hips, the curve of her spine. He slipped off the bed. She was making it easy for him. “Good-bye, Hope.”

  Hope listened to Theo pull on his clothes, and when silence enveloped the room, she turned over. He was gone.

  “I love you,” she whispered as tears spilled over and dotted the pillow under her head.

  Twenty-nine

  I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times.

  —Rabindranath Tagore

  Flickwriter: Are you ready?

  HelpDoc: Yes, I am. I’m ready for any and everything.

  Flickwriter: What time is the procedure?

  HelpDoc: I’m scheduled for seven. However, I have to be at the hospital at 5:30.

  Flickwriter: I’ll be pulling for you.

  HelpDoc: Thanks.

  Flickwriter: I’ll check in with you tomorrow after you come home.

  HelpDoc: Thanks, again.

  Flickwriter:

  HelpDoc:

  Hope signed off, smiling. She and Theo usually “talked” every day via instant messages or by e-mails. The three-hour time difference made telephone calls a bit more difficult.

  She stared at the clock. It was midnight on the East Coast. In another five hours she would check into an Upper East Side hospital for a procedure to remove the lesions in her uterus.

  Walking over to her bed, she knelt on the floor, covered her face with her hands and did something she hadn’t done in a very long time. She prayed.

  “Hope. Wake up, honey.”

  Hope struggled to open her eyes, but her lids seemed weighted. She heard the steady beeps from the machines monitoring her vitals. She tried again to wake up.

  “Hope, sweetheart.”

  Her lids fluttered. The voice was familiar. “Yess-ss,” she slurred.

  “Wake up, darling.”

  “Theo?” She felt the firm softness of his mouth on her parched lips and then his hand closing over hers.

  “Yes.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to make certain you’re really okay.”

  A dreamy smile curved her mouth. “Thanks.”

  This time when her eyes opened, they did not close. It really was Theo. The last time she’d seen him he’d worn a beard. Now he was clean-shaven. Her fingertips touched his chin.

  “I shaved it right after I got through instant messaging you last night.”

  She smiled. “Why?”

  He returned her smile. “When you told me you were ready for any and everything, I took that as a sign that you’d be willing to put up with me and the rest of my neurotic household for the next forty or fifty years.”

  “Are you asking me to marry you, Theodore Howell?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you. I already asked your parents’ permission.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Ask them yourself.”

  Theo motioned to Patrick and Flora to come closer. Hope smiled at her parents. “What did you say, Daddy?”

  “I told him that he’d better be good to my baby—”

  “No, he didn’t,” Flora interrupted. “He said yes.”

  Hope closed her eyes. “And what did you say, Mama?”

  Flora flashed Theo a wide grin. “I told him of course.”

  Reaching into the pocket of his slacks, Theo withdrew a ring and slipped it on Hope’s left hand.

  She peered closely at it. “It’s beautiful.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he crooned, bending over and kissing her again before he sat down on a chair beside her bed. “I’m going to close on a little place in Charleston the beginning of November. We’ll be living four blocks from Lee and Rebecca.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “Where do you want to get married?”

  Sighing, she closed her eyes again. “McKinnon Island.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “I have something to tell you, Theo.”

  “What is it?”

  “I love you.”

  He chuckled softly. “I know.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Rebecca told me.”

  Hope opened her eyes. “I never told her I loved you.”

  “Maybe it was women’s intuition?”

  “Maybe it was. Help me sit up. I need to get out of this place. I have to plan a wedding.”

  “When do you want to marry?”

  “Anytime around Christmas.”

  Theo’s smile was dazzling. “On the beach?”

  “Yes.”

  Theo sat her up, and she curved her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. When he’d left McKinnon Island, he’d realized he had left a small part of himself there. And that was the woman he held to his heart. She had taught him that love was quiet and patient.

  Flora pulled her husband’s sleeve and led him out of the room. “Let them have their time together before the family descends on him.”

  Patrick rolled his eyes upward. “You don’t think Junior and Bobby are going to do the same thing to him that they did to Trey?”

  Flora laid her head on her husband’s shoulder. “I doubt it. Theo may be smooth as peanut butter, but something tells me he can hold his own with those two thugs you call sons.”

  “I’ll have you know my boys aren’t thugs, Flora Robinson-Sutton. I just brought them up to take care of their sisters.”

  “And they have,” she crooned softly. “Just like you’ve taken care of me.”

  Patrick patted her hand. “I would do nothing less for my Gullah Queen.”

  Flora stared at him, then whispered something in his ear.

  “What did you say?”

  She gave him a sassy smile. “Learn Gullah, city man.”

  Both were laughing as they went into the waiting room to wait for their future son-in-law to bring th
eir firstborn baby girl home.

  Epilogue

  Love is a secret feeding fire that gives all creatures being.

  —Anonymous

  Hope sagged against the wall. She couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t have happened so quickly.

  She hadn’t seen her period in November, which meant she was about six weeks along.

  “What is it?” came Marissa’s voice behind the closed door.

  “I’m going to do it again.”

  “How many times do you have to do it? Either you are or you aren’t. Open the damn door and let me see.” Hope opened the door. Marissa crowded into the tiny bathroom. She took the wand from her sister’s hand, her eyes widening. “You are! You’re pregnant!”

  “Shh-hh! Don’t say anything.”

  Marissa clapped her hands over her mouth and screamed through. “When are you going to tell Theo?”

  “After we’re married, of course.”

  “Which should happen in exactly twenty minutes. Come and get dressed. It’s bad luck to keep your groom waiting.”

  Hope followed Marissa out of the bathroom and into the room where she’d slept and made love with Theo four months before. She smiled at her sisters-in-law and Rebecca.

  “Are you all right?” Rebecca asked.

  “I’m wonderful.”

  And she was. She was marrying a man she loved, a man whose child was growing beneath her heart. She had stayed in New Jersey with her parents while she’d recuperated, then moved to Charleston after Theo had closed on what he’d called his little house. The house had six bedrooms, eight baths, a three-car garage, an in-ground pool, and a tennis court set on six acres. She’d been reunited with Helen, Christian, Brandon and Noelle in what had become a tearful, festive celebration.

  Every other weekend the house was either empty or filled with children when the Andersons and the younger Owenses alternated sleepovers. It was on the weekends, when the house was empty, that Hope and Theo slept together. Sleeping in separate bedrooms served to increased their desire for each other.