Moon Over Edisto

by Beth Webb Hart

  Glenda took the egg out of Julia’s hand and handed her another that needed cracking. “Well, that’s real nice of you, Julia. I imagine that place is a wreck.” She leaned over to Julia and whispered, “She hasn’t invited us over in years.” Glenda shrugged. “Anyhow, the sitter will arrive the day before Marney will likely be released. So you’re free to go by Saturday. I can fill in any gaps on the weekend and Skeeter can help too.”

  Julia cracked the next egg and began to peel off the shell. “Okay. I’ll make my flight arrangements as soon as I can get back over the bridge.”

  “I’ve got a computer at the post office if you need to use it. We’re plugged in good on that side of the island.”

  “Okay. Thanks.” Julia reached for another as the sound of two ninjas fighting on television rose and fell.

  JULIA DRIED HER HANDS AND WENT OVER AND SAT down by Charlie. “How about we turn off the TV? Let’s go play some tag or wet a line.”

  He furrowed his brow and she had to hold back an urge to squeeze his full cheeks. “You know how to fish?”

  She shrugged. “I used to.”

  Skeeter, with his bionic ears when it came to anything angler-related, hollered from the deck, “I’ve got some bait in the wet well over on the dock. And a few rods already set out there.”

  Charlie shook off his TV glaze. “Let’s go!” he hollered as he jumped up and held out his strong little hand to help Julia up. She took it and then she followed him as he raced out to the dock and grabbed a rod.

  Julia saw Etta nudge Heath out of the corner of her eye. “Life jacket,” Heath called from above her hand of cards.

  “Okay,” Charlie said, and he lifted one from the railing and put it on. It was a little too big but would probably keep him afloat a little while if he fell in.

  “Do you know how to swim?” Julia asked.

  “Oh yeah,” Charlie said. “I’ve been swimming since I was a baby.”

  “That’s true,” Skeeter called over his shoulder. “He’s a fish.”

  Julia found the bait and put some nice-sized mullet on the end of the hooks. After a few rounds of showing Charlie how to cast, he tried it himself only to snag the back of his life jacket. Julia decided to cast for him. The tide was coming in so she wanted the line to land upstream and move its way back to the dock pilings where they tended to congregate. Charlie didn’t seem to protest too much about her taking over. When she got it in the optimal spot, she handed him the rod. He held it tightly and his eyes followed the float as it bobbled and dipped in the dark, moving water.

  “Just keep your eye on that bobber.” She pointed out to the orange orb resting on the surface. “As soon as you see it pulled down or feel a tug, then yank back hard and you’ll snag whatever’s trying to get the bait.”

  He nodded vigorously. “All right.”

  She had a feeling that maybe he’d never been fishing before, which was a shock since he was the son of one of the most passionate anglers to ever live on Edisto. Then it occurred to her: he never knew Daddy. And as much as he looked like and reminded her of Charlie, he never had the chance to see him in the flesh.

  “Got one!” he hollered and she helped him reel it in. It was a nasty old dogfish, but that didn’t matter to Charlie. He was ecstatic and wanted to touch the fish’s tail and was eager to watch it swim away after Julia knelt down on the floating dock and released the creature back into the water.

  Next, Julia caught a small croaker. It was too small to keep, but she let Charlie hold it for a moment before returning it to the creek. It croaked in his suntanned hands and he giggled at the sound.

  After the croaker they hit a hot streak. Julia caught a nice eating-sized spot-tail bass and then Charlie caught a beautiful flounder.

  “He’s got two eyes on the same side!” Charlie pointed with his thick little finger.

  “Yeah.” Julia looked at him as she pulled the hook out of the flounder’s mouth. “Haven’t you ever seen a flounder before?”

  He shook his head back and forth. “Nope.” She held it up for him to touch and then turned it over so he could see the smooth white eyeless underside. “He lies on one side beneath the mud. His eyes are together so he can see the baby shrimp and other sea life he eats.”

  “Cool.” Charlie reached out to touch him. By now they had caught Skeeter’s attention and he abandoned the card game and ambled down the dock with his cane.

  “Haven’t you ever eaten a flounder?” Skeeter said to the little boy.

  Charlie crinkled his nose as he continued to rub the fish’s underbelly. “Nope.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat.” Skeeter clapped his hands together.

  Julia leaned down to the little boy and caught his eye. “This is the fruit of the sea, Charlie. Super flaky and delicious.”

  The boy licked his full red lips and tilted his head. “Yeah.”

  Next Julia set Charlie up with another good cast and Skeeter handed her a rusty old scaler and an even rustier knife and nodded to the dock sink. “Go on and filet these so I can get them on ice and over to Jed’s. I’ll go get the cooler.”

  “I don’t remember the last time I’ve done this,” Julia said. He clucked his tongue and flapped his hand in the air as he hobbled up the dock. “Like riding a bike, gal. It doesn’t leave you.”

  She looked down at the bucket where she’d put the flounder and the spot-tail bass. She took a deep breath, leaned down, pulled the spot-tail out first, and laid it on the wooden counter by the sink where it flopped a moment before she held it down firmly. Then she grabbed the scaler, set its metal teeth at the tail, and scraped toward the head. The scales came off in iridescent tufts, and she wiped them off with the back of her hand and into the sink, which had an opening that drained right down into the creek.

  Charlie stayed focused on the bobber and out of the corner of her eye, Julia noticed Etta, who had made her way soundlessly out to the dock. The girl was pretending to help Charlie, though Julia could feel her eyes at the sink, watching Julia intently as she continued to scale the bass.

  Eventually Julia got into the groove of it, and it did all come back. She made the incision behind the bass’s head and then carefully eased the knife along the backbone, making her way from the head to the tail, inch by inch, flap by flap, until she had a nice-sized filet that could feed at least two. She cut off the tough part at the edge, then flipped the fish over and cut a filet off the other side.

  Once all that was left was a head, a fish bone, and a tail, she tossed it over the rail into the water, reached down in the bucket for the flounder, and then turned back to Etta. “Wanna scale this one?”

  The girl nodded gently. Then she walked over and picked up the scaler. She had obviously done this before as she held down the flat, round fish with her left forearm and ran the teeth of the scaler deftly along the dark side of its body with her right hand. The flounder was an even harder fish to clean because its scales were softer and smaller, but Etta did a beautiful job as she slowly, meticulously made her way from tail to head, one row at a time, as the fish’s mouth opened and closed and opened again.

  Julia imagined her father training Etta at a young age to clean a fish as he had Julia and Meg. It was like second nature to her, her little hands moving steadily along the body, wiping off the scales when they piled up. When she finished, she rinsed off the scaler in the sink and then handed the filet knife to Julia. She obviously had no interest in making the incision, but she stood by her big half sister, her breathing almost soundless but steady as Julia carefully cut a filet off of the dark side.

  As Julia flipped the flounder to its white side, she stopped for a moment to check on Charlie, still staring at his bobber, and then to take in the scene: the wide arcs of the dark water pushing in toward the creek’s end, the softness of the setting sun, the skitter of a school of mullet beneath the dock, the stillness of the late afternoon, the moon showing nearly all of its face above the live oaks beyond the opposite bank. Julia couldn’t remembe
r a more picturesque moment.

  She turned to Etta, caught her large blue eyes, and smiled. The little girl looked down at the wooden slats of the dock and grinned, and Julia had a feeling that there were few people on earth who could take in a moment—see it fully for what it was before it passed forever—quite like Etta Bennett.

  “NICE WORK, GALS,” SKEETER SAID AS HE HELD UP HIS little Igloo cooler, which had a layer of dried pluff mud on its bottom. “Plop those filets right in here, and I’ll deliver them to our chef.”

  Then he said a little more softly as he looked back and forth between Julia and Etta, “He’s the best cook I know. Other than your mama, of course, Julia.” He glanced carefully up to the house and then back again. “But don’t mention that to my Glenda, all right?”

  Etta grinned and Julia chuckled. She looked down at the girl and said, “Our lips are sealed.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Julia

  After everyone washed up and made their way out on the deck, Skeeter drove back from delivering the fish to Jed’s, opened the tail door of his old Ford pickup, and said, “Pile in.”

  Julia looked to Glenda, who patted her arm and said, “It’s okay. You hold Charlie in your lap and I’ll hold Etta.”

  “Yes!” Charlie hollered as Heath took his hand and helped him shimmy up into the back of the pickup. He found a spot on the rusty wheel well until Julia shooed him off and pulled him into her lap on the dirty flatbed. She was glad she had worn her blue jeans, but her white linen tunic was going to need a good wash.

  Everyone else piled in, even Glenda, who sat on the wheel well and held Etta’s hand.

  Skeeter hollered out of the driver’s window, “Ready?”

  “Yeah,” everyone but Etta said. Then he drove down the bumpy, gravelly driveway, hanging a right onto Peters Point, and then in less than a mile a driveway on the right had a mailbox that said “Young” on its post.

  The old cottage was just as Julia had remembered. A little white wooden clapboard on brick pilings with a wraparound porch. It was surrounded by massive live oaks, their Spanish moss waving in the light evening breeze from the creek.

  It was a work in process; Jed was not exaggerating. The only room that was livable was the kitchen, and he even had an air mattress in the corner by the refrigerator where he slept. But on the huge porch he had set a large picnic table with a bright red and yellow tablecloth, ivory-colored plates, silverware, wine and water glasses. Several votives ran down the center. Julia thought Jed had likely entertained more than a few beautiful women out here.

  “Wow,” Heath said as she walked out on the sloping porch. “This looks so . . .”

  Etta whispered a word to Charlie.

  “Romantic,” he said, and they all giggled. So Etta could speak. Skeeter was right. But her words were rare and whispered only to her brother.

  “And smells good,” Heath added.

  The three children were mesmerized by the beautiful table. They stood before it, taking it all in as their eyes sparkled with the reflection of the candlelight. With their full cheeks, their red lips, and their wispy hair they looked like three cherubs in the fading sunlight, each unspeakably lovely and mysterious in their own way. And yet remarkably familiar too.

  Julia breathed in the fragrance of shrimp, garlic, olive oil, and lemon. It smelled divine and also familiar, reminding her of the great feasts her mother used to prepare many a summer night out here when they had gathered a big catch in the seine or the cast net.

  Julia turned to Jed, who was busy in front of a large old castiron skillet. “What are we having?”

  “Shrimp and grits. My own recipe, inspired by your mother, actually.” Then he bent down and shook Charlie’s hand. “And some fresh-baked flounder and bass as well.”

  Charlie turned to Julia and then back to Jed. “I caught it.” He thumped his thick little chest. “I caught the flounder.”

  “That’s what I heard.” Jed lifted his large hand and Charlie slapped it hard. “You take after your father, you know that?”

  Charlie furrowed his brow and looked down as if a dark cloud had suddenly passed over. Etta, taking it all in, walked over and took him by the hand and led him out to the yard where she pointed out the nearly full moon hanging like a prop in a play above the marsh.

  “I didn’t mean to upset the little guy.” Jed went back to his skillet, and Julia couldn’t help but take him in as well. He was six-five, lean but broad-shouldered. He had been tall even at fifteen, but what a man he had turned out to be. A good-looking surgeon who could cook. He must have to beat back the ladies in town.

  He looked back at her and grinned. She had been caught checking him out. She felt her cheeks redden, and she turned toward the porch. “It only just occurred to me today that he never knew Dad.”

  Jed cleared his throat. “That’s a real loss,” he said as he pulled a Pyrex dish out of the oven with fresh fish filets sizzling in butter and garlic.

  “I know.” Julia breathed in the amazing scent. “There’s enough sadness to go around for everyone, I guess.”

  Now they could hear Skeeter chuckling on the porch as Charlie held out his arms wide. “It was this big, Glenda! Didn’t you see it?”

  “No, I didn’t,” Glenda hooted. “I’ve never seen a flounder that big.”

  “Well, it was,” Skeeter said, backing Charlie up. “I saw it myself.” Charlie crossed his arms and nodded his head. Etta was beside him, smiling, and Heath was shaking her head behind him and mouthing to Glenda, “No way.”

  Glenda just beamed and held out her fleshy arms to Charlie. “I’m proud of you, child.”

  And he walked toward her and let her pull him up onto her soft, lumpy lap. “Thanks.”

  Julia felt Jed’s gaze on her, and when she looked back he turned back to the skillet.

  “Looks like we’re ready,” he said.

  THE MEAL WAS UNBELIEVABLY GOOD. THERE WAS A FIELD green salad with fresh blue cheese, pecans, and large thinly sliced heirloom tomatoes from the farm by King’s Market. Then the shrimp, which was cooked with white wine and olive oil, and a variety of yellow, red, and orange peppers and onions, served over creamy stone-ground grits. Also, the fish cooked with garlic, lemon, and butter and served on the side, flaky and sweet. Charlie ate every morsel of fish and went back for seconds.

  For dessert Glenda brought the other half of the caramel cake she’d baked for Aunt Dot. It had seven thin layers of crusty caramel and moist vanilla cake. Julia had feasted on many a high-brow meal over the last decade during her time in New York and her trips to London and Paris with Simon or her students. But Southern cooking like this, with fresh local ingredients—it fed her body and soul like no other. She had forgotten. She had forgotten so much, and in the midst of the mess, this was a gift. A gift she devoured heartily and with a grateful heart.

  Etta never made a peep, but she ate well. Charlie spoke nonstop between big bites of flounder and bass. Heath ate like there was no tomorrow, practically licking her plate and going back for a second slice of caramel cake.

  “This is good,” she said. It was the nicest thing to come out of her mouth yet. And judging by all their reactions, this wasn’t the kind of fare they were used to.

  “You should open a rest-strunk,” Charlie said to Jed.

  “Restaurant,” Heath corrected him.

  “Best shrimp and grits I’ve ever had.” Skeeter nudged Glenda. “Next to yours, of course, dear, and also Mary Ellen Bennett’s.”

  “Who’s Mary Ellen Bennett?” Charlie furrowed his brow.

  Julia took a sip of her pinot grigio and patted Charlie instinctively on the back. “That’s my mother.”

  “Oh,” he said. He hadn’t put all of the pieces together, but Etta certainly had. Julia felt Etta staring her down and narrowing her eyes.

  “Julia’s mother is the best cook I’ve ever known,” Jed jumped in. “She’s my inspiration.” Just as he said “inspiration” his beeper went off.

  “Excuse me,
” he said. Julia noticed then that he had refrained from having any of the wine he offered. Perhaps he was on call.

  He stepped outside, and while they couldn’t make out what he was saying, his voice sounded serious. Then he came back on the porch. “An elderly patient of mine is in trouble. We may need to open him up again. I’ve got to head back to town.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Glenda said.

  Julia jumped up. “We’ll do the dishes. You just take off.”

  “Yeah.” Skeeter stood and shook Jed’s hand. “Thank you for this fine, fine meal, son. We want to reciprocate the next time you’re out here.”

  “I’d enjoy that.” Jed rubbed his large hands on his blue jeans as Charlie came up and squeezed his long leg. The little boy only came up to his thigh.

  Jed leaned down and squeezed Charlie’s shoulders. “I’ll say hi to your mama if I see her.”

  “Okay,” he said. “And tell her about my fish.”

  “Will do.”

  Then Julia walked Jed out to his Land Rover as Glenda instructed the kids to carry their dishes to the kitchen. Rascal and Phydeaux, both wearing their new flea collars, trailed behind Jed and Julia, barking until he opened the door to let Rascal in.

  He closed the door gently and turned back to her. “I wouldn’t let Phydeaux back in the house if I were you. And you might want to open windows and doors first thing tomorrow and let it air out for a few hours before letting the kids in.”

  Julia nodded. “Okay.” Then she looked up into his mahogany eyes. “Hey, I really appreciate your help today. I can’t thank you enough.”

  He met her eyes and smiled. “My pleasure. I’m really glad I had the chance to lay eyes on you again.”

  She couldn’t conceal her return grin so she chose Etta’s method and looked down at her sandaled feet. Then she looked up, unwilling to let the moment pass. “You were my first kiss, you know that?”