Folly Beach

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  “Take your time. It’s just seven.”

  “Cool,” she said and disappeared to the kitchen downstairs.

  Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy, I thought, how would you like your story to be told?

  And as if she was whispering in my ear I heard her say, I was never as happy anywhere as I was with DuBose. And in this house. And on this island. Life without a great love is no life at all.

  I thought, well, sugar? If we can just keep the dialogue going, I’ll have your story on paper in no time. I’d just be channeling Dorothy as soon as I got my laptop plugged in and when Patti went home, which would only be another day or two.

  I went downstairs to get another blast of caffeine and continued thinking about Dorothy. We did seem to have an uncanny amount of things in common. Beyond the obvious similarities such as being orphaned and raised by our aunts, and having theatrical backgrounds and being widowed at a pretty young age, I’d been happy here, too. And, with Addison’s horrible legacy, I’d learned I could be happy with a lot less, which was kind of marvelous to know, although I’d still say that having pots of money was better than not. But Dorothy knew that, too, didn’t she?

  So many nice things had happened in such a short time. I’d reconnected with the island and Aunt Daisy and Ella at a very important moment and I’d even made some headway with my wacky daughter-in-law, Alice. But perhaps most important, I might have found my great love right here, too. Yeah, for the foreseeable future, Dorothy Heyward and I had a lot to talk about. And I had hundreds of questions for her.

  I called Ella at seven thirty, which, knowing her habits, seemed like a reasonable hour. She said she was just taking an apple-cinnamon coffee cake out of the oven for the nurses but that she had made one for us, too. We’d be there on the double, I told her.

  In the car I said to Patti, “You know, lately, I feel like The Thing That Must Be Fed.”

  “Well, sorry for you, tootsie wootsie, but who could say no to anything coming out of Ella’s kitchen? Count your blessings. You could be eating your own cooking all the time.”

  “You’re right.” I pulled in the driveway and said, “I think we’d better go in and tell her here, don’t you? Better than in the car, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, so we can stuff our faces while we do,” Patti said and laughed.

  So, we hurried through the rain, went up the stairs, and I let us in. Ella was predictably in the kitchen and as we all know, there is nothing on this earth to eclipse the smell of butter and sugar baking with apples and cinnamon.

  “Morning!” she said and gave us a hug.

  “This is what paradise smells like,” I said. “I’m sure of it.”

  “I’m starving,” Patti said. “Well, I’m not exactly starving but if I don’t get a piece of that cake in my mouth tout suite I’m gonna start crying.”

  “Well, sit yourself down, chile, and let me cut you some. You want eggs?”

  Soon the whole story had tumbled out across the table. Ella was unnerved by how quickly Aunt Daisy had been overcome by the respiratory arrest, and what the medical team had to do to get her breathing normally was just as upsetting.

  “What if it happens again? I mean, what if we bring her home and it happens right here?”

  “It won’t happen here, Ella,” I said. “She’s on massive antibiotics that are flushing all the possibilities of that out of her system.”

  “Cate’s right. Even the nurse said they wouldn’t release her unless they were certain she was completely okay to come home.”

  Ella got up, wrapped the second cake for the nurses in foil, and said, “Let’s move. I can clean this up later.”

  We got up immediately, put our dishes in the sink, and turned on the spigot. We knew that for Ella to leave a crumb on her countertops, she was gravely concerned about Aunt Daisy, and probably furious with herself for not having been there with her. I checked to see that the oven was off and Patti flipped the switch on the coffeepot.

  The ride from the beach to Charleston was something of a challenge. The marshes were so swollen with rainwater and the tide was so high that the waters threatened to wash over the causeway and carry us away to Kiawah Island or Hilton Head. Driving took all of my concentration and focus, and Ella and Patti didn’t say much as they knew I was working hard to keep us safe. But after a while my reflexes seemed to revert to autopilot and my mind started to wander. My new life, which was in so many ways the mature version of my childhood, seemed so natural to me. My re-immersion into Folly Beach and all its irresistible charms had been almost seamless. Watching the lone egret standing in low water and then lifting into flight like an angel, the twitter of a thousand birds in the early morning, the mango sunsets, the glisten of phosphorus on the ocean at night under a full moon that changed colors on its rise—these events, so specific to the Lowcountry—made me feel rich. But more, they reclaimed my weakened spirit that had so desperately needed assurance and gave me enough hope and strength to go on to try again. The stress of Addison, of pleasing him, impressing his colleagues, trying to live up to some impossible standard that in the end was completely frivolous and shallow—all of that was gone forever. There was nothing I’d left behind that I missed or felt I needed. I was perfectly happy, no, honored in many ways, to give some oversight to Aunt Daisy and Alice’s health, more than thrilled to have John in my life and wherever it all led—the play, managing real estate, whatever curveball came my way—I was ready to take it all on. Relaxed and ready. And there was something else, too. I couldn’t wait to hold my son and daughter-in-law’s baby in my arms. I could not wait for that.

  When we arrived at Aunt Daisy’s room, we all filed in even though we were supposed to go in two at a time. She was sitting up in bed wearing a beret covered in flowers and working the New York Times crossword puzzle in ink. Her eyes twinkled with restored health and the kind of joy that comes when you realize just how very happy you are to be alive.

  “Good morning!” she said, still slightly hoarse. “Do y’all know a four-letter word for a two-toed sloth?”

  “Unau,” Ella said. “She asks me this about once a month. I can’t remember the Rhine tributaries or the Asian mountain ranges, but that sloth devil? I got him! So, Old Cabbage, I heard y’all had a party without me last night.”

  “Humph!” Daisy said. “Some party.”

  “But how are you feeling this morning?” I asked.

  “Right as rain!” she said.

  “Well, that’s appropriate,” Patti said, “because it hasn’t stopped pouring for the last twelve hours.”

  “Yeah, there are palmetto fronds all over the roads and some live oak branches, too. All the gutters are flooded and, of course, Lockwood Boulevard is a swimming pool.”

  “I’m so glad you’re all right,” Ella said and took Aunt Daisy’s hand. “I was worried sick.”

  We stayed for about an hour and then Patti and I left on the pretext of finding the right laptop and printer for me.

  “So, our Mr. Risley is going to help you find a new career?” Aunt Daisy said.

  “I doubt that much will come of this but I want to try. I mean, why not?”

  “Why not indeed? You girls run along but bring me a surprise when you come back to pick up Ella, all right?”

  “Time she start asking for sursies? Time she went home,” Ella said. “Let’s take this coffee cake to the nurses.”

  So we did and Nurse Rosol was glad to have it.

  “Y’all are too sweet!” she said.

  “Not them,” Ella said, feeling full of beans after seeing that Aunt Daisy was going to walk out of there. “That’s my coffee cake.”

  “Oh fine!” Patti said.

  “When’s Aunt Daisy going to be released? Any clue?” I said.

  “I’d say, if she continues to do as well as she’s been doing, probably in the morning after the doctor sees her.”

  “Well, listen, I just want to say thanks, I mean thank you sincerely for all you’ve done for Aunt Daisy.
She’s, well, she’s the most important person in our whole family.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Nurse Tolli Rosol said and I wondered if she could yodel.

  I told Ella before we left that she should call us and we’d swing by to get her. She said she would.

  The rain had slowed to an intermittent drizzle. The storm seemed to be moving north, toward McClellanville and Georgetown. There was some sunlight breaking through the clouds, sending radiant streams of light across the sky.

  “Looks Biblical, doesn’t it?” I said.

  “Maybe it is,” Patti said.

  “What’s the matter with you? Did you have some religious rebirth you haven’t told me about?”

  “Hell, no. But every time I come back here I’m reminded how this place is closer to God than the congested, freezing-cold, super-competitive rat race I run,” she said loudly enough to alarm anyone nearby.

  “Inside voice,” I said.

  “We’re in a parking lot,” she said.

  “Whatever. Had enough of New Jersey?”

  “Yes. As soon as I get home and kill Mark for not telling me about Heather Whore, I’m putting the house on the market. I can make wedding cakes here and don’t people down here get bunions and ingrown toenails? We’re moving because there’s just no point in being there without my family. I don’t want to go back. Isn’t that awful?”

  “No. I know exactly what you mean. I feel alive here. I feel young here. And my reasons are a lot different from yours, but I don’t ever want to feel like I did when Addison was alive. Not for another minute.”

  “It’s a lot to think about,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, in my case, the thinking got done for me. Still hard to believe, isn’t it?”

  “Where’s the closest Best Buy or Staples? You’ve got a new life to start living.”

  By late that afternoon I had my new computer set up in the bedroom downstairs, the one with the tiny desk. If that was the desk DuBose and Dorothy used to write Mamba’s Daughters it was surely good enough for me. In fact, maybe it would bring me luck.

  Patti was in the kitchen making dinner. My job was to make the salad, set the table, and be alluring. Clearly, she didn’t trust my culinary gifts beyond poultry and I didn’t care if she had to be the alpha chef. I called Russ, who said he’d be glad to collect Ella and bring her home and he reported that Alice’s doctor was upset because she’d already gained eleven pounds.

  “How far along is she?” I said.

  “Seven weeks,” he said. “That’s a lot, huh?”

  “Russ? You want to know the secret of how to get through this pregnancy?”

  “The flower aisle at the Piggly Wiggly?”

  “My genius son. Yes. We’re going to get you on Jeopardy!”

  “You know, you were right about bringing her flowers and telling her she was beautiful.”

  “Well, son? Think about it. She needs to hear it. Her entire body is working so hard to produce and support another life. Every hormone she’s got is like a whirling dervish. So until she gets to about her seventh month, she’s going to be a little extra touchy.”

  “You mean, I’ve got five more months of this?”

  “No, my precious heart, if you’re lucky you’ve got another fifty years.”

  “Oh, man.”

  “Listen to me, sweetheart, your life is about to change for the better in so many ways you can’t even imagine. You’re going to have a child! Your very own child to love and cherish and believe me, there is nothing in this world that can happen to you that will bring you greater happiness. Nothing.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Really.”

  “Yeah, I know. I guess. It’s what everyone tells me. But it’s a little scary, you know?”

  “I’m right here for you, son, anytime you need me. I’m not going anywhere. You’d be a moron if you weren’t a little nervous but don’t let the changes in Alice throw you. This is the time for you to be the man, Russ. You know, the protector? If you think about it, she’s going through this for you and for all of us. What more important contribution can a woman make to a family than a life? Try to be extra understanding and realize however quirky she might seem right now, it isn’t you and it isn’t her, it’s her body sending her all kinds of messages she’s never heard before.”

  “Like to start eating like a wolf?”

  “Yes.”

  “Like to fall asleep all the time?”

  “Yes, like the only time she’s not talking about being tired is when she’s asleep?”

  “Exactly. What causes that?”

  “I have no earthly idea. Ask the doctor. I’m sure there’s a new study that says it’s a vitamin deficiency or something. Anyway . . .”

  I thanked him for seeing about Ella and I promised him I would take Alice out to lunch or for a manicure or for a walk on the beach and that I’d talk to her and more important, I’d listen to her.

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “And, my darling boy? You’re going to realize for the first time how much I love you when you hold your own child.”

  I could almost feel him blush, just thinking about his own little baby.

  We hung up and John called just a few minutes later.

  “Hey,” he said. “How was your day?”

  “Good!”

  “How’s Miss Daisy?”

  “She’s doing just great, thanks. Probably coming home tomorrow. How about you? How was your day?”

  “Well, I got a really disturbing phone call from Camp Lisa. I don’t want to . . . but well, the truth is I need to tell someone.”

  Camp Lisa was how he referred to the institution where his estranged insane wife resided.

  “You tell me, John. It’s fine to tell me anything. You know that.” I thought, given Lisa’s history, she probably tried to stab someone again.

  “Turns out she’s got Stage Four pancreatic cancer.”

  “Oh John. That’s awful.” It was about the last thing in the world I expected him to say.

  “Yeah, she’s going. I mean, you know, it’s not as if I’ve had a thought, not a single thought of ever getting back together with her, because I knew there were absolutely no drugs or therapies out there that could cure her. And besides, I was all done with her the last time she laced my juice. How can you love someone who wants to kill you?”

  “No, I know. I know all that. But still. What a shock.”

  “They wanted to know if I wanted to see her one last time and if not, what did I want them to do with her remains? Her remains. Gee, God. What a question. Anyway, she’s only expected to live for a few weeks. At most.”

  “Jesus, John. That’s a helluva phone call to get.”

  “Yeah, it was. I was sitting at my desk grading papers. Hopefully we don’t get many of those calls in our lifetime.”

  “Hopefully you never get another one! What are you going to do? I mean, what do you think? Is she asking for you?”

  “No. The doctor I spoke to said she’s pretty out of it, conscious one day and then she sleeps for three. But I’m still in the records as next of kin so I got the call. So strange. I never thought it would end this way.”

  “I’m sure. Oh, I’m so sorry, darling. I mean, I’m sorry for her, too, you know?”

  “Yeah, her life is a very sad story. Tragic, really.”

  “It is. Listen, speaking of shockers . . .” I told him the story of Heather Parke and he was aghast.

  “See? People and their sense of entitlement! It’s just incredible. The brazen thing.”

  “Yeah, so I think I need a lawyer to tell her to back off or else we’re going to call the police or something.”

  “You know what? I know someone. Got a pencil? Here it is. Jennet Alterman. She runs the Center for Women downtown. No doubt she knows a lawyer who’ll write a letter for you gratis. Here’s her number . . .”

  I copied it down and wrote her name next to it.

  “But don’t you love Aunt Daisy trying to
get involved, not telling me and trying to fix it?”

  “Your aunt Daisy is a G-flawless diamond, Cate. So, are you ladies still on for tonight?”

  Diamonds. Humph. I hadn’t told him the diamond story yet. I was saving that one.

  “Yes! Absolutely.”

  He said he’d come by at six thirty. It was cocktail night. Did I have ice? He was bringing his shaker and we were making martinis and playing all the music from Porgy and Bess we could find in the house. And he was bringing me a stage play format to follow to write my first draft. Maybe he’d have two martinis, he said and was it all right to sleep on the couch?

  “Of course! But I forgot to buy liquor!” I said.

  “An insignificant oversight. You’ve had plenty to worry about and I have enough vodka in this house to share with everyone. My students actually give it to me for the holidays and when they graduate and so forth. Isn’t that crazy? I probably shouldn’t take it but I do. Anyway, don’t worry. And I’ve got olives and vermouth. By the way, what are y’all cooking?”

  “Lasagna. Garlic bread. Salad. Pound cake.”

  There was a pause.

  “God, I’m a lucky man. I might get there on the early side if that’s okay?”

  “Of course it is!”

  Patti stuck her head in the bedroom.

  “Did I overhear favorable news?”

  “Oh, Patti, come on. The poor woman is on her deathbed.”

  “Yeah, I know, it’s disrespectful. Sorry. Is he upset?”

  “I think he’s more surprised than upset. There’s no love lost between him and her.”

  “Well, let’s be honest here. If she goes, you two could make it legal any time you want.”

  “I am not ready to even think about something like that. If I marry John it will be when everyone thinks we should have done it a long time ago. Besides, I don’t need to get married again, do I?”

  “No, you really don’t. You’ve got a family and children and I suspect you’re not going to starve. But I wouldn’t string him along forever.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t. But you know what? I don’t think he’s going anywhere. I think we are so groovy together that maybe this summer we’ll take up surfing.”