Moon Over Edisto

by Beth Webb Hart

  Julia had only shrugged and worn the same dress she had the year before without seeming bothered. And Meg, who had to wear Julia’s hand-me-downs to begin with (except for Easter and Christmas, when she was allowed to pick out her own new dress at the children’s boutique), feigned illness and stayed in her nightgown all of Easter day because she refused to go to church in the same dress, the one with the little purple Magic Marker stain in the front fold of the skirt that she’d been wearing all spring.

  Now her son Preston tugged on her arm and motioned for her to bend down. He knew about these children, but he’d never met them. “Are those the ones from Granddaddy’s other family?”

  She looked him in the eye and nodded solemnly.

  He ground his teeth, a habit he had picked up from her when she was disgusted, then blinked several times before looking back at them. Preston was the child she connected with most. He saw the world the way she did, in clear blacks and whites, and she appreciated him for that.

  Her youngest, Katherine, who had not yet put the whole sad, embarrassing story of her grandparents’ divorce together, came up on Meg’s other side. “Who are those kids, Mama?”

  “They are some children your Aunt Julia has been caring for because their mother is sick.”

  “Oh,” she said as she stuck out her bottom lip, assessing them. “Where do they live?”

  “Edisto Island,” Cooper, the middle son, said as he came into the doorway, all smiles. Then he looked at his mother and tried to conceal his excitement. Cooper loved drama, and she knew he could sense the tension in the room. Meg rolled her eyes at him.

  Then Julia turned to Meg and her crew who were huddled together in the corner of the foyer near the formal living room. They must have looked like models in a Vineyard Vines photo shoot that had just been rained out. Attending this dinner was a concession Meg had made to her mother, but already it was more than she bargained for.

  “Meg . . . I mean . . . Margaret,” she said to Meg. And she stepped over and embraced her younger sister, who hugged back as loosely as she could.

  Julia always had a strange smell—part earth, part urban. Would it hurt her to put on a little perfume? Meg grimaced as she watched Julia bend down to embrace the three children who waited for their mother’s nod to embrace back.

  Then Julia stood and turned to Meg’s husband. “Great to see you, Preston.” She flashed her big smile. He was holding out his hand to shake hers, but she opened her thin arms wide and he embraced her back. While Meg complained about Julia regularly, he never had much to say back. Because of this Meg suspected that he admired Julia, making her way in Manhattan. Truth be told, he had regretted turning down a job with one of the big banks up there when he finished getting his dual business and law degree ten years earlier. He had been offered a marginally good salary with an opportunity to grow big, but they couldn’t turn down the better offer from an established Charleston law firm. Plus, Meg was already expecting Preston, and she had no desire to raise a child in a cold, crowded city where the only person she knew was her strange artist sister.

  Mary Ellen was still trying to coax the limpish children over the threshold. Meg watched as Julia turned back to them and motioned for them to come over. They made their way tentatively toward the living room where Julia introduced them to Preston, Cooper, and Katherine.

  “I know who you are. You’re my granddad’s children,” Cooper said. He was the first to reach out his hand and shake theirs. “I guess that technically, you’re my aunts and uncle.”

  The younger girl, the waifish one, glanced nervously up toward her older sister and then to Julia. And the little boy, the spitting image of Meg’s father, just cocked his head in confusion as if Cooper had just said, “I know who you are. You’re Martians from another galaxy.”

  The eldest girl shrugged and tried to conceal her blush. She appeared to be her mother’s daughter. Attractive in an exotic way with a tough outer shell. She’d probably slit your throat if you handed her a knife. She had a book in her hands, The Fellowship of the Ring. Meg had no appreciation for fantasy novels and had discouraged her children from reading them. They were, in her opinion, a waste of time. Why not read a biography or at least a historical novel?

  “I guess you’re right, Cooper,” Julia said, as the hostess of this dreadful event, their mother, popped over and said, “I’ve got juice boxes and treats out on the porch. I set out the old croquet set too, and the mini-trampoline and some crayons and paper . . .”

  “C’mon, let’s go!” Cooper said to the new children, and they followed him, with Katherine trailing a few strides behind, out to the backyard, though the waifish one looked back a few times at Julia, who nodded encouragingly.

  Preston rolled his eyes at Meg and she gave him a little push toward the backyard. “Go on,” she said. “I bet you’re the only one who knows the croquet rules, so you can teach everyone.” Preston turned and walked toward the back door slowly with a serious face. His father tousled his head on the way and then turned to Julia. “Can I pour you a glass of wine?”

  “A little one,” she said. She set her red leather bag down and readjusted her loose French twist.

  “So when is Jed coming?” Their mother beamed. She was looking back and forth between Meg and Julia as if this was the happiest day of her life.

  “Oh, Mama, he had to cancel.” Julia reached over and patted her mother’s forearm tenderly. “I’m sorry. He had something else he’d forgotten about.”

  “Well, that’s okay,” Mary Ellen said, flapping her hands in the air like a wren. “I’ll track him down and have him again another time.” She leaned in toward her girls. “ I sure would love to see the grown-up version of him. Jane Anne says he’s quite the surgeon and professor at MUSC. And I was so sorry to hear about his parents. They were both young. In their early seventies or maybe younger than that.”

  Julia smiled back and forth between Meg and her mother. Then she turned to Meg as Preston handed her a glass of wine. “Your children are just beautiful, Margaret. And they’ve grown up so much. I think the last time I saw Katherine she had just learned to walk and still had that full baby face.”

  Meg softened slightly. Her children were her pride and joy. She had worked hard to raise them well—reading all of the books by the experts, taking all of the parenting classes at school and at church, comparing notes with the mothers she admired most. She was serious about discipline, about setting goals, about order in the house, about academics, and about good manners. She was vigilant about the company they kept and made sure they were not exposed to any bad influences. This was of the utmost importance.

  Preston, who was in fourth grade, had suffered a few issues with reading and this had led to some outbursts on his part at home and at school. He had a temper; that was true. But with enough clear order and established authority and consequences, they seemed to have it under control. Cooper, on the other hand (who was only in second grade but smart as a whip), liked to stir the pot, and he wasn’t afraid to disagree with her. She found this exasperating, and she worried he’d be rebellious as he grew up. For this reason she came down harder on him than anyone, but she couldn’t quite get rid of whatever it was in him that made him unafraid to present an opposing perspective. And whatever it was in him that made him drawn to people outside of their carefully selected circle. As for Katherine, she was easy enough, a little in her own world, but pliable and teachable. All was well with her.

  “Thank you,” she said. “They are a lot of work, but I enjoy it.”

  Julia looked down at her engagement ring and Meg asked to examine it. “I hope it’s not too late for me,” her big sister said.

  It probably wasn’t too late, Meg thought. But the risks did go up substantially every year, and Julia would be forty before her wedding date. There was a strong chance she’d have to go the in vitro route. Or maybe adopt, a topic that made Meg nervous but likely appealed to Julia.

  “We’re looking forward to meeting your fian
cé.” Preston nodded and smiled at Julia. “Mary Ellen tells us he is a quintessential British chap and one hundred percent charming.”

  “Oh yes.” Mary Ellen clapped her hands. “I met him last year. He just adores Julia, I can tell you that.”

  Julia grinned and turned to Meg. “Well, I know you all can’t make it to the wedding, but maybe you could come to New York sometime this spring with the kids and you could all stay at Simon’s. He’s got a large corner condo with lots of windows on the Upper West Side. And he has a guest bedroom and a pull-out couch in the den. I’ll be moving in with him after the wedding.”

  Meg furrowed her brow. That was the last trip she ever wanted to make. “Oh yes, we’d love to.” She put on a pretend smile and turned toward Preston. “Wouldn’t we?”

  Preston shifted his weight and brought his fist to his mouth as he cleared his throat. She knew he knew her fake face, and he was probably deciding how enthusiastically he should respond. Knowing him, he would like to visit.

  “Well, I’m sure Bess will miss you, Julia,” Mary Ellen piped in. Then she motioned for everyone to take a seat in the living room.

  “Oh no,” Julia said as she sat down on the end of the Chippendale sofa. “I’m going to keep the old spot for a painting studio so I’ll still see them a good bit.”

  “Perfect,” Mary Ellen said as Preston took his place in their father’s old leather wingback reading chair and Meg took a spot on the leather ottoman at his feet. How many times had she sat there as her father read her the funny papers or asked her about her day at school? The smell of the leather and the cracked surface of it brought back too many emotions, so she stood and took a seat on the other end of the sofa a good two feet away from Julia.

  Mary Ellen took a seat on the gilded Victorian chair with the pale green silk upholstery before standing again, picking up the crystal bowl of pickled shrimp and silver skewers, and passing the bowl around.

  They chatted briefly about the wedding plans and Meg’s children’s interests and Preston’s family and then about the week and about Aunt Dot’s recovery and about Julia’s Fulbright and her upcoming trip to Budapest. No one mentioned Marney and that was fine by Meg. The cancer could devour her for all Meg cared. She knew some of the folks who were all into grace at her church wouldn’t think it was very Christian to think that way, but some desires she would not compromise. Didn’t justice matter? Didn’t certain actions reap certain consequences? She sure hoped so. If not, what was the point?

  The voices of children in the yard rose and fell. More than once Preston had to go out and settle a dispute over the rules of croquet and whose turn it was. After the small talk, the conversation came to a lull, and Meg admired her new manicure as their mother excused herself to put the final touches on the buffet.

  When it was time to eat, the children came in with their paper plates and went through the abundant buffet line Mary Ellen had set out in the pantry. Marney’s kids had wide eyes as if they’d never seen so much food, and they helped themselves to huge portions of fried chicken and macaroni and cheese and brownies.

  The adults ate at the dining room table where Meg and her family of origin had hosted every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter dinner. Her father almost always invited an odd assortment of family, friends, and neighbors to share in the feast. Aunt Dot was usually present, and old Mr. Vincent, who had such a bad case of palsy it took him several tries to bring his fork to his mouth. And for years they had the Wentworth family down the street because Mr. Wentworth’s wife had been hospitalized for some sort of mental illness. Mary Ellen always said, “The more the merrier.” And she cooked for days preparing for a holiday gathering. Meg never felt comfortable around the strangers at her table. They were loud, they ate too much, they didn’t always smell good or have decent manners, and more often than not, they ate the last slice of pie or the heart of the cobbler before it ever made its way to her.

  AFTER DESSERT THE KIDS RACED OUTSIDE TO PLAY croquet again. Meg could hear her eldest son’s voice. Preston was frustrated, and when she turned to check on them, she watched him yank the club out of young Charlie’s hand. Meg shook her head and watched her husband, who looked up from his cobbler as the voices rose again. He wrinkled his brow, but then he shrugged and took another hearty bite of dessert as things settled back down.

  Their mother was asking them about all of their old friends and catching them up on the news of the neighborhood. “Mr. Gallagher giving you any more trouble?” Preston asked.

  “Quite the contrary.” Mary Ellen looked toward his house and smiled. Meg could tell she was carefully weighing her words. When she went to open her mouth to continue, there was a loud knocking noise and then there was a horrifying shriek from the backyard.

  Meg thought it was Katherine and she ran out through the back porch to the garden, half-expecting one of the vagabond children to be assaulting her daughter. The little boy, Charlie, had a stream of blood running down his face, and he was shrieking and shrieking and running in circles as the little waifish girl chased him.

  “Preston hit him,” Cooper was shouting, pointing to Preston, who was scowling and saying, “No, I didn’t.” He looked to his mother and pointed at the little waifish girl. “She did it. She hit him.”

  Meg’s husband was right on her heels. “That’s not true,” Cooper said. He pointed to his brother. “He hauled off and hit him with the mallet, Dad.”

  “You’re a liar, Cooper,” Preston said.

  “Oh no!” Julia came running out and called back to her mother, “Please bring a towel, Mama. Charlie’s bleeding!”

  Julia darted over and scooped Charlie up from his circle-running and immediately applied pressure with the linen napkin she had carried out from the table. After a moment, she peeled back the cloth and they all glimpsed the gash. Julia winced and Meg watched her turn to her mother. “He needs a stitch or glue or whatever they do nowadays.”

  “No!” Charlie screamed a terrified scream. “I don’t want to see the doctor!”

  Julia rubbed her cheek against his and whispered, “Charlie, it will be okay. It won’t be bad. I promise.” She turned to Meg. “Where should I take him?”

  “Roper, I guess.” Meg straightened up. “Their ER is a lot faster than MUSC’s.”

  Meg’s husband was still trying to get to the bottom of what had happened. If Preston had done it, if he had done it on purpose, there needed to be a serious consequence.

  Katherine hadn’t seen it, and the eldest daughter had been reading her book on the porch, so she wasn’t a witness. Cooper was biased toward anyone other than Preston and so Meg turned to the waifish little child.

  Meg grabbed her by the arm. “What happened? I need to know what happened,” she said.

  She looked the child firmly in the eye and could not hold back her distress. “I want you to tell me what happened. Now.” Then she tightened her grip as firmly as she would one of her own. She ground her back teeth. “Tell me.”

  “Meg, let go of her!” Julia screamed as she stood up with Charlie in her arms and walked over. Heath was out in the garden by now, and she pulled Etta away from Meg and toward Julia, who had two trails of blood now running down her forearm and her fresh-looking—albeit cheap-looking—yellow sundress.

  “I need to know, Julia.” Meg pressed down on the wrinkles at the bottom of her linen tunic and addressed her sister firmly. She nodded toward Charlie. “He’s okay. He just needs a stitch. I need to know who is responsible. Get this girl to speak up.”

  “No,” Julia said and Etta hid behind her. “She can’t.”

  Meg rolled her eyes. She had seen the child whisper something in her brother’s ear earlier that afternoon. “Don’t be ridiculous, Julia. I saw her talking to her brother a little while ago.”

  “Yes, she does.” Julia’s voice was a combination of sadness and anger. “But she doesn’t speak to anyone else. And I’m not going to make her.”

  Julia turned to Heath. “Will you grab my pocketbook
and keys in the foyer? We’ve got to get to the hospital.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Mary Ellen was patting Julia on the back as she carried Charlie toward the car. Meg followed too and watched as Julia put him in the middle of the backseat where the car seat was. Then Julia instructed Heath to sit on one side and asked her to keep applying mild pressure on the bloodied linen napkin on his forehead. Next she helped Etta in on the other side. The girl snapped herself into her seat and immediately started rubbing her brother’s arm.

  “I’m just so sorry,” Mary Ellen said.

  Julia quickly hugged her mother and turned to Meg, who narrowed her eyes and muttered, “As soon as the little boy talks, you need to call me.”

  Julia nodded solemnly, then jumped in the driver’s seat. Meg turned back to the garden as the crunch of Julia’s tires moving quickly over the driveway stones reverberated in her ears and chest.

  “He did it, Mom.” Cooper pointed to Preston as she walked back over to her children.

  “I didn’t,” Preston muttered angrily. “The dumb girl did it.”

  Meg felt her temples pulse. She had a familiar taste in her mouth. The taste of bitterness and shame. Preston Sr. looked to her. He was holding Katherine, who was crying from all of the excitement. Meg was the expert on discipline in the house, and while he attended the parenting classes and read some of the books, he always seemed to defer to her.

  “Well, you’re both going to be punished.” She put her hands on her hips and looked back and forth at her two sons. “No television for two weeks. And no dessert.”

  “Ah, c’mon, Mom!” Cooper put his palms up in a gesture of innocence. “That’s ridiculous.”

  Preston just ground his teeth and steadily pounded the croquet club on the soft, carefully pruned grass of her mother’s garden.

  “Want to make it three?” Meg said to Cooper. She could see his cheeks reddening and his eyes filling with tears. He shook his head as though he couldn’t stand her.