Savannah by the Sea

by Denise Hildreth Jones

  “Yes, I . . . well . . . I told my boss I would write my next human-interest story while I was here. I thought maybe your story would be very interesting to the readers. Would you be willing to share it with me? I don’t have anywhere else to go.”Well, not in a hurry anyway.

  They laughed. I wasn’t sure why, but they laughed. “Well, we’d love to,” Lucy said, “but we’re about to go out and eat.” I noticed a perplexed look cross Manuel’s face as he eyed Lucy.

  “Oh . . . yes . . .We were actually finishing up this hand before heading to dinner. I guess you’ll have to get with us tomorrow.” His expressive Hispanic tone rose.

  I watched them for a moment, feeling as if I had intruded. Lucy sensed my feelings and turned back to me.“I hope you can find something to do with your evening.”

  “Yeah, sure . . . I’ve got this book I’ve been trying to start since I got here. So tomorrow, then, 8:00 a.m. Would that be okay? After I run?”

  “Tomorrow,” Lucy said with a wink.

  The construction team from the new home being built on the oceanfront property was putting their coolers away in the back of their truck. I could eye Joshua’s house and see the lights over the roof of their cab.

  I gave them a nod as I passed.The tool belt on one of them triggered a brief memory of my last encounter with construction workers. Actually, it was Mother’s encounter. Vicky had issues with construction workers. Well, no. Vicky had issues with everyone on some level, but recently had a rough time with a few construction workers.

  Our neighbors were doing some remodeling. They claimed Mother’s extensive gardens had devalued their property. Well, honestly the gardens had. They made the distinction obvious. Vicky’s garden: pretty. Their garden: not so pretty. So they were putting on the dog. They were planting gardens that overlooked our gardens and redoing features on their house that honestly didn’t need redoing for ten more years.

  Their construction team worked hard. And that meant they came in early and worked late. Now, Mother is always in her office by nine, but she doesn’t get up at the crack of dawn. But these construction workers would show up around five every morning. They’d nail. They’d saw. They’d talk. Loud. Anyone familiar with downtown Savannah knows that talking at your neighbors can be heard, well, by your neighbors.

  So sister Vicky, who is head of the Savannah Historical Preservation Society, knows two things. And what she doesn’t, she’ll make up. Convincingly I might add. She knows that work isn’t to start before seven on weekdays and before eight on weekends. So she called her good friend Cynthia, who is Hispanic, and asked her how to say,“No working until seven,” followed up by, “No working until eight.”

  Had Cynthia known how those poor workers would be abused by Mother’s incoherent Spanish, she never would have told her a thing. But every morning they’d come early, ready to earn an honest day’s wage, and Vicky would pop her head out of the front door, often with silken eye mask still propped atop her forehead, and start hollering “no hombres comiencen hasta las ocho de la mañana.”Those poor men were afraid to work before eight thirty after she got through with them.

  But the new team that showed up one day to reshingle didn’t know Vicky’s rule. And that day, in exasperation, she hollered, “Hombres castrados a las ocho de la mañana.”Those men screamed at each other and took off like streaks straight up Oglethorpe. I’m not sure they quit running until they reached Atlanta. Come to find out she was telling them, “All males will be castrated by eight.” The Johnsons couldn’t get workers after that. They tried two states in all directions, but everyone had heard about the lady with the machete. And few ever wondered who had mutilated Mother’s little “fountain boy” that resided in her garden.

  The workers eyed me curiously as I passed laughing, laughing at the memory and that my mother could intrude on my evening even when she was nowhere around.

  The pleasant moment faded the second my feet touched the welcome mat of Proteus.

  How in the world had I gotten here?

  Fortunately, Joshua’s friend Johnny saw me. He was approaching the house with arms loaded with Modica’s Market bags. I opened the door for him.The beautiful beachfront home was quiet inside.

  “They’re all out back. Let me put this stuff up, and I’ll walk out there with you,” he said, setting the bags down on the counter.

  “What you got in there?”

  “The fixin’s.That’s what we call ’em ’round here. The pickle, the tomato, the onion . . . but don’t touch that if you’re going to get you some sugar tonight.”

  “Excuse me?” I raised my eyebrow.

  “Girl, it is what it is.We knew something was up with Joshua, but he wouldn’t tell anybody. So, now we know. Savannah, and I’m not talking the city is what’s up with our boy. So, like I said. Stay away from the onions.”

  He was not going to be stopped.

  He grinned like a Cheshire cat. “And every good cookout needs chips. So I’ve got any variety these hounds could want.” With that he folded up his brown-paper shopping bags and laid them on the counter.“Now, let’s go meet everybody.” He put his arm around me.“You’re nervous. I can feel it.”

  “You can?” I asked, trying to make my feet walk toward the screen door.

  “I can feel anything. And right now I feel a Southern girl about to darn near jump out of her skin. They’re just people, Savannah. Good people. You’ll love them.” He reached his other hand out to open the back door that led to the patio.“Now, go sic ’em, lady,” he said, prodding me into the realm of strangers, gas grills, and the eyes of a strangely familiar man standing across the back porch, holding a Dr Pepper.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Barbra’s voice really needed to get out of my head.

  “Savannah, I presume,” came the voice of a stranger with an outstretched hand. “I’m Luke Greene, Mark’s father. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”

  “It’s a pleasure to be here. How do you know my name?” I asked with a slight laugh as I leaned down to shake his hand. He returned it to the arm of his wheelchair. I tried not to stare.

  “Joshua’s been talking about you all day. I do believe you have stolen his heart.” I looked for the door. The stately gentleman twisted the small lever at the front of the arm, and the motion of the wheelchair caused my head to turn as he twirled himself around. Joshua was positioned right in front of him. He acknowledged me alone.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, walking around Mr. Greene. He wrapped his arm around me and moved to kiss me on the head. I retreated instinctively. My stars, the man was trying to kiss me in front of strangers. He grinned and never missed a beat.

  “Savannah, please make yourself at home,” Mr. Greene said. His interruption caused me to blush, embarrassed that I had so easily forgotten his presence.

  A beautiful lady in her early fifties with frosted blonde highlights and piercing blue eyes came around to Mr. Greene and placed her hand comfortably on his shoulder. “You must be Savannah.”

  “Yes, baby, that’s her.”

  “And you’re as lovely as Joshua told us.Welcome,” she said, extending her other hand. “Please, get something to drink. Dinner will be ready shortly.”

  “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Greene shooed Joshua off. “Now, go introduce her to the others, Joshua.”

  “It sounds like I’ve been introduced already,” I whispered, trying to hide my agitation. “I guess you were pretty certain I would be here.”

  “I was absolutely certain.” He tugged me to the other side of the porch. I immediately caught sight of the blonde head that had kissed him this morning. I looked down at my top to make sure all of my buttons were fastened. Not sure why. Just felt a little undone.A rather common occurrence.

  No unbuttoned buttons. No price tags. (I’d done that before too.) No, all perfect. Well, almost perfect. See, this woman was supposed to be dog ugly. And not only was she not ugly, but she was surrounded by three other stunning women, another beau
tiful blonde, a breathtaking African-American, and a beauty-queen-material Asian. The latter two had lustworthy black locks. But since the Ten Commandments had arrived and then departed from our fair city, I had really tried to work on the coveting aspect of my character.

  “Savannah, this is Heather, Deneen, Linda, and Celeste. Ladies, this is my . . .” And there came the deciding moment. I held my breath. I had no idea what was about to come out of this man’s mouth. Shoot, I had no idea what had come out of his mouth all day long. Instead, he said, “This is the lady I’ve been telling you about.” Well, that answered a thousand questions. “Savannah Phillips.”

  They all “ahhed.”

  “Savannah, these are some of my closest friends.”

  Each girl leaned over to hug me. And I had officially entered Joshua’s world. Dinner. Laughter. Stories of college adventures. Some tame. Others needing taming. Most of those were Johnny’s stories. Dessert. More stories. More laughter. And then slowly the group began to dissipate.

  The guys had taken to a postdinner game of volleyball. I watched perched atop a blanket.

  “Can I share your blanket?” Heather asked.

  “I’d love that,” I said, scooting over and moving the shoes I’d slipped off out of the way.

  She smoothed the crease beneath her. “I haven’t seen Joshua North this happy since I’ve known him.”

  “I find that incredibly hard to believe. The man of a thousand women.”

  Her dark eyes reflected the soft red hues of the sunset.“Don’t let his looks fool you. Joshua was never a player. No. Joshua has always been more serious. Settled, Mark would call him. Only dated Celeste steadily. Never anyone else seriously. Come to think of it, I’m not sure he ever really dated anyone else, period.”

  Now, there was a curious fact. I returned my attention to Joshua, who was high-fiving Johnny over some extraordinary feat of testosterone. Plus, women were watching. He caught my eye and winked as he brushed the sand from his impeccable calves.

  “You’re a perfect fit,” she assured me.

  “Why would you say that?” I asked, looking down at my bare feet covered in sand.

  “I can just tell. It works by the heart, Savannah. The best thing you can do is not overanalyze it. I did that for years.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. You see that guy over there?” She pointed to Brady.

  “Who, Brady?”

  “Yeah. He loved me for years. But he’s white. I’m black. And black and white in the South mean one thing—well, I’m not sure what, but it certainly isn’t marriage. Plus, neither of our families appreciated us going outside of their definitions of love.”

  I looked up at her, able to see she still carried a deep fondness for the blond-headed man across the fire.“What did you do?”

  “I married him anyway.”

  “Oh my stars! What did your families say?” I knew perfectly well what Victoria Phillips would have said, had I brought home Gregory, my wonderful black legal advisor and friend from Jackson, Mississippi.

  “Well, they didn’t sing a chorus of ‘Ebony and Ivory.’”We both laughed. “Actually, they had a plethora of colorful commentary. Then my family met him and his family met me, and neither could deny the love that we had for each other. So they don’t anymore, and we’re about to celebrate our second wedding anniversary. And another addition in, oh, about six months.” She patted her hardly distinguishable pooch.

  “That’s wonderful,” I said, touching her knee.

  She put her hand on my shoulder, revealing a simple platinum eternity diamond wedding band. “Wonderful and sometimes painful. We’ve heard every horrible thing you can imagine from the mall to the church. We get stares and remarks behind our backs, or loud enough for us to hear. But we have the things that matter. We have common morals and a common faith. And there are many ‘matching’ couples, as I like to call them, who never even bother to see if they share those two most important traits. Yet we’re the odd ones. Oh well, we deal with it.”

  “How have you been able to handle all of that?”

  “Oh, did I forget to mention we have an undeniable attraction?” she said with a glint in her eye.

  I smiled. “I can see that.”

  “Okay, just checking. Honestly, as long as the core of who you both are is the same, I’ve learned you can’t overthink love, Savannah. You’ll find enough obstacles along the way. Enjoy the good parts. Know bad ones will appear. And just determine that you’ll go through them together. Mr. and Mrs. Greene are perfect examples of that.”

  “Do you mind telling me what happened?”

  “A car accident. Mark’s senior year in high school. Mr. Greene had been an alcoholic for years. One night he was driving drunk, and a tree stopped him before he even laid a foot on his brakes.The trauma left him paralyzed from the waist down.”

  “Oh, how awful.”

  “Yeah, it was a painful story.”

  “How did Mrs. Green make it through all of that?”

  “There aren’t many like her. But she recognized immediately how this shook up Mr. Greene. And he never touched alcohol again. She said if it took this to give her the best years of her life with her husband, then she would spend the rest of her life enjoying their time together. Mark will tell you the same thing. He and his dad have actually had a real relationship since the accident. It changed Mr. Greene forever.”

  “I’m not sure whether to be horrified or amazed.”

  “I think you can be both.We were. Real amazement can come out of horrific moments.”

  “How true.”

  “Yes, it is, my new friend. You never know where love will go.” She stood up and brushed the remnants of sand off of her shorts.

  “Do you think Mrs. Greene has any regrets?”

  “If she ever did, I would say she doesn’t anymore.”

  I held the silence, taking in the story.

  “We’ll see you soon,” she said.

  “I’ll look forward to it.”

  “You’ll be sick of us, I assure you.” She smiled. “Come on, Daddy,” she said to the vibrant fella who had just flown face first in the sand.

  He popped his head up.“Who you callin’ Daddy?”

  “You, lucky man.” And with that he brushed himself off and they walked arm in arm up to the house. Chocolate and vanilla. In the direction of Mrs. Greene,who was sitting on Mr. Greene’s lap, watching.

  The water felt cool. Not tepid. Not freezing. Just cool. I walked with my shoes in my right hand and let the water wash over my feet with each passing wave. For a long time we didn’t say anything. We just walked.

  “They liked you.” His strong yet gentle voice pierced even the sound of the crashing wave.

  “I liked them too. The jury’s out on you, though. You obviously led everyone to believe I would be there. I didn’t even know I would be there, until, well, until I got there.”

  “I had no doubt you’d be there, even if you had a thousand.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Ooh, big word for a human-interest writer.” He nudged me.

  I nudged back. Harder. Ran him right into the incoming wave. We both laughed. “I did like you with them, though.”

  “What do you mean?” His long legs slowed to allow mine to keep up.

  “Different people have a way of bringing out different things in us. Paige brings out my wild side. Mother brings out my maniacal tendencies. Dad brings out my thoughtful side. And each of your friends brought out something different and beautiful in you.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like your laugh. Your confidence, yet a shyness. Your gentleness and your smile. They complement you.”

  “You noticed all that?”

  “I’m not as self-absorbed as you think I am.”

  “What do I bring out in you?”

  I had to pause for that one. There were so many things he had brought out in me.“Rage. A tightness in my chest.” I turned his direction. His head
was down and his feet brushed the sand. A loose curl hung in his face, but I could see the outlines of his smile. I felt his hand slip into mine.The warmth of it removed the chill from my own.“And a thousand ques tions with no answers.”

  He stopped in the sand and turned to look at me. “What questions do you have, Miss Phillips, that I need to answer?”

  I looked into those eyes that looked into mine far deeper than I had ever allowed anyone to see. I felt remotely exposed. I shrugged.“Oh, the simple things. You know, who are you? Where do you come from? What makes you crazy?”

  “Joshua North,” he stated matter-of-factly as he stepped in closer. “Jacksonville, Florida.” And then his right hand moved gently around my waist. “Savannah Phillips.” He moved his other hand, which still held my own, around the other side of my waist. And with that declaration, the same lips that had taken me to new places this afternoon took me somewhere else beyond our recent travels. If I didn’t know better myself, I would declare sister saw those stars she had been declaring she owned for years!

  He leaned back and looked at me. I asked,“Did you just say I drive you crazy?”

  “Yep. You’ve been doing that since the day I met you.”

  “Drive you crazy how?” I raised my right eyebrow.

  “In every imaginable way.” He kissed me again. I returned it with everything a kiss could hold. I couldn’t help myself. The man was downright fine.“My,my . . . how long has it been since you’ve been kissed?” I could feel my face flush immediately.“No, no,” he said, lifting my chin. “It’s wonderful. Everything about you is wonderful.” He held me tighter.

  “It’s been a long time.” I felt as vulnerable as one could.

  “Well, I’m glad you saved them for me and didn’t give any more to that Grant fella,” he whispered in my ear.

  “You’re about to ruin a perfectly good evening.”

  He pulled our hands from behind my waist and led me up the stairwell to the East Ruskin Street beach pavilion.“Then let’s head back to the place with food so I can shut my mouth.”

  We walked toward the pavilion with its extensive latticework, which is found throughout Seaside.