by J D Worth
I blow out a steady breath. “The truth still hurts. This is my first opportunity to come and appreciate her hard work.” I run my palm along the fraying quilt hem, smoothing the material back on the bed. I also have to mourn her loss while I’m here. Is a month long enough?
Cal doesn’t say anything and hangs back while I take my time exploring the rest of the room, looking for what little remains of my mother. A pair of dainty pearl cluster earrings lay in a decorative leaf-shaped dish atop the double dresser across from the bed. A set of silk slippers peek from under the bed. A dog-eared romance novel rests on the far nightstand. Sad reminders of a life cut short.
This cottage became the most important thing to my mother. She rearranged both of our lives to be here, but why? Was this her only place of retreat and the reason she placed her cherished family possessions for me to have in the future? I’ll never know the answers to all the questions surging through my head.
I’ll also never get the image of my mother’s haunted expression out of my head when I first saw her at the airport upon my return. My mother looked as if she survived standing in the path of a hurricane, not cleaning up after one. Her normal polished wardrobe was gone. Her long hair was shoved into a loose bun, her soft cotton shirt was wrinkled, and she wore comfortable linen pants that hung on her thin frame. I almost didn’t recognize her.
I flung my bags aside and raced to her. “Mom? Are you okay?”
She was gaunt and so thin. Dark circles marked her once bright eyes. A sadness had routed deep within her during my absence. She tried her best to hide the truth. She kissed me on my head and smiled. “Sparrow, I’m so glad to see you. Let’s start with Italy. Tell me everything!” She peppered me with questions about my stay, giving me no time to bring up her health again.
That same night she came down with a fever serious enough for our driver to rush her to the hospital. Later, in her hospital room, she had me crawl into bed with her. With our arms holding each other tight, I asked, “You’re sick, and you didn’t want me to know?”
“How could I bear seeing you sad for one more day than you have to, my little sparrow?” She slipped her hand beneath the pillow and pulled out a thick envelope. “This is our Wakefield legacy,” she said, handing me the deed to the cottage. “I’m even signing over my car and you up for Driver’s Ed in the spring. You have no excuses, so promise me you’ll enjoy the cottage sooner than later. Haven is such a special place.”
“Because you fell in love there?”
“Yes, I fell in love with your daddy in Haven. Those memories can’t be destroyed, no matter what.”
The sound of Cal popping open a panel in the hallway linen closet scatters memories from my past. I wander into the hall.
He says, “I’m getting the central air going for you.”
“Good idea. I should know how everything works.” I join him at the control panel before more sad memories flood my consciousness.
He points to a switch, showing me how each one is marked. “Mash this button here. It controls all the cooling or heating with natural gas.”
“Wait. Mash. Like ‘mash’ potatoes?” I try for an innocent expression, but can’t help the smile playing on my lips.
“You’re gonna be fun.” He chuckles. “More like: Mash the gas, you damn slow poke!”
“I love your accent, which if I’m not mistaken, is a slightly different drawl from the one I’ve heard here.”
“My kin comes from the western part of North Carolina. The accent is thick as molasses compared to these coastal parts. Beware, on occasion we might could laugh at you too. Not to make fun mind you, but the wording sometimes from Yankees is ’bout as fun to hear too.” Cal flashes a big smile at me.
“I love all of this.” Pondering his phrasing, I venture, “Might … could?”
“Just a polite way of presenting our options. Yankees stick out awful ’cause they worry ’bout proper grammar usage. Don’t go correcting us like most Yankees do, and you’ll be right fine.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” This time I share a big smile with him. “And ‘right fine’ is like ‘might could’?” My brows furrow, wrapping my mind around a new set of phrasings.
“Goofball, you done like it! You should know that we do write the proper way, but the Southern way of speakin’—” Cal exaggerates his speech so I hear the obvious drop of his ‘g,’ which was subtle before. “Yeah, we let it slide and shorten every word we can. Then add a few more double verbs, for whatever reason. Don’t know why, but it’s the way of the South. Since I’m in college and working with out-of-state clientele, I’ve been trying to sound more professional-like.”
“I love hearing the different Southern dialects. At first, I wasn’t so sure because of my stepmother’s overindulgent Southern accent. She’s a pageant queen from Georgia and talks like a cartoon version of Scarlet O’Hara. After I heard an authentic Southern accent, I knew for certain Georgina’s was exaggerated, like the rest of her.”
“That explains things. Those beauty circuits are all ’bout show. I’m guessing she stands out real good in New York. That’s her racket, right?”
“Yes, and I thought I was the only one to notice!” I beam.
“Recall, great minds.” He hip checks me again.
“Thanks for showing me the cottage. Your work here is true craftsmanship. Again, great minds made that happen.” I marvel at the fine details from the beautiful molding to the built-in bookshelves.
“We best mosey on over to Dixie Mart. You gotta grab some good ole welcoming Southern grub. I’ve got everything covered here.” He locks up for me, and we mosey out to his truck. I stop when he opens the passenger side door and gawk at the gun rack mounted to the back window. The long shotgun displays like a trophy.
“Wow, you don’t kid around when it comes to guns here!”
“I only got me a shotgun. I am a big hunter, but I mostly use the shotgun to scare critters away at the properties I oversee.”
“Okay, so guns in vehicles are the norm here. Got it.” Cal chuckles while I thrust myself into his truck. My whole being warms with every nuance I learn. “I’m thankful you’re my personal tour guide.” I smile. He shines a bright grin while we drive in his old work pickup through the humble, yet beautiful coastal town.
Cal fires off the names of each family in the houses we pass and how many generations they’ve lived here. As we near the center of Haven, he points out the businesses in each building. Most of the vehicles we pass are also dated, and everyone seems to be dressed for comfort. The town people—or “folks” as Cal calls them—wear shorts, jeans, and T-shirts. No one bothers with the latest fashion trends or business attire.
The town may look weathered, yet I can imagine all the years of families shopping and conducting business. Everyone takes the time to greet one another in passing on the street. Everything they need is here. It’s surreal to be in a place where money and appearances are not high priorities. Friends and family seem to meld with a more calm way of life in this self-reliant seaside community.
We turn into a large parking lot and hop out. A picturesque country grocery store is located at the other end. “This is the backside of Main Street. All the storefronts line the lot and these three side streets in the downtown area.” American flaps wave in the wind, and bright flowers dot the sidewalks.
We pass an ancient hardware store that advertises their goods out front on the sidewalk. My face lights up as I stare in amazement. “I adore that old-fashioned hardware store!”
“We’re not that old-fashioned, but yeah, Bell Peninsula is special. We like the way things are and hold onto our way of life as long as we can. The hardware store’s the oldest one here. There’s a jeweler slash gift shop over there. No national food franchise exists anywhere close by, but we got a café, a diner, and a pizza and sub shop all on Main Street. There’s also an actual corner drugstore that sells lots of stuff like books and magazines too. If you wanna cruise a
round the peninsula on a bike, you can find one at the sporting store. There’s an antique-and-flower shop next to the bakery. We have our Kingfield Properties office over there by the insurance office. Not too bad for a one horse town.”
I admire the red, white, and blue flowers Dixie Mart has in large barrels out front. “I feel as though I’ve stepped back in time. I’m sensing life here is like a leisurely stroll.”
“You’ll love exploring Harbor Bay and Hearth on the peninsula as well. Each town has its own character.” Cal says, “I’ll grab the buggy so you can get shopping.”
I give him a puzzled look. He shakes his head at me and corrals a grocery cart. I laugh. “Cal, it may take time for me to get a handle of the Southern language differences, considering how colorful your words are.”
I load the buggy with an assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables grown from local farms. Anything that looks interesting, I toss in the cart. Cal shares a few eye raises that I shrug off. “I plan to cook for myself, which should be entertaining.” I snort under my breath.
Everyone we pass offers friendly greetings. Cal bounces with pride as he introduces me as a Wakefield. The locals share stories about my family with wide smiles.
Rounding the corner of an aisle, I stop dead in my tracks. “Oh, my goodness! Twinkies come in a box of ten?” My eyes glaze over as I hold up the greatest find of my newfound freedom: junk food.
“Here you go.” Cal hands me several boxes of the little golden cakes with cream filling.
“Wow, that’s even better!”
“I take it you don’t ever do the grocery shopping?” Cal chuckles.
“There’s always a first time for everything.”
“Really?”
“My life in New York is…” I try to discern the correct word when my elite lifestyle includes pampering to extreme levels. “The household staff handles errands like shopping, cooking, and cleaning.”
“I get it. Your life is sheltered. But didn’t your momma, I mean she didn’t seem—”
“No, she had a staff. Something as trivial as grocery shopping is not an acceptable task where we come from.” I frown, hoping he doesn’t think less of my wealthy mother.
“She never talked ’bout any of that and dressed casual like you. Her last name may have been Aster, but she was still a Wakefield ’round here.” Cal shrugs his shoulders, throwing in another box of Twinkies into the cart with a smile. “What else haven’t you done?”
“Everything,” I share, my voice wavering from the weight of normality. My Aster life doesn’t exist here, not when he’s branding me a Wakefield, and nobody seems to care that I come from money. A giddiness builds in my stomach. “My life is structured, stiff, and beyond stifling.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, no kidding.”
“I want to experience the opposite while I’m here.”
Cal eyes me, realizing how earnest I am. “Okay, let’s start a bucket list. Party on the beach tonight. I’ll call the crew and let ’em know. We gotta grab more grub.” Cal picks up a package of ground beef. “How ’bout we start with burgers?”
“A bucket list sounds fantastic. I can’t wait to sink into a big fat juicy burger, so add that to my list. Restaurants I usually dine at don’t serve burgers. However, this is my treat. What would be top-of-the-line here? Lobster? Steak? Lobster and steak?”
“You weren’t joking, were you?” Cal scratches his head.
“I’d love to provide a nice dinner for you and your friends as a show of gratitude. I have no idea how to cook, so I need your assistance. I did interrupt your party the other night. Lobster and steak can be appropriate beach food, correct?”
He chuckles. “Sure, Audrey, let’s go with steak. Seafood down here is more ’bout the local blue crabs. We’ll do you up right with an authentic low country boil on the beach some night.”
“Really? Now, that sounds like fun!”
His face lights up as he places a call. “Jax, welcome party at seven tonight for Audrey. Steaks are on her. We’re at the grocery store buying the goods. Need me to pick you up anything?” he asks. “Nah, he’s got a game, so pass along our plans. Later, bud.” Cal turns to me. “Jax is in as long as you don’t bring that passed out pretty boy from the other night.” He smirks, and I grimace. He scans the cart for the necessities. “Let’s see, we got orange and cranberry juice ’cause we never know what we’ll score, and Payton likes her screwdrivers.”
“What do you mean by ‘score’?”
“Trent scores all of the leftover booze from the resort after every major event. The resort specially caters a fully stocked bar for each event.”
“Wow, I never knew. That seems excessive and wasteful.”
“That’s why Mace stopped by the reception the other night. If he grabs a shot of JD, the bottle is his later. He’s been pulling that stunt for years now. At first, he was a cocky kid, seeing if he could mingle with the rich guests. Now, he mingles for fun. You saw Mace, would you mess with him?” Cal’s lip curls at the corners.
“He was infuriating. Of course, I messed with him.”
“Oh, this has gotta be good! I’m guessing that’s why you were on the beach with him?”
“Mace stole that fifth, so I pulled the bottle right out of his suit jacket.” I share a conniving smile.
Cal’s whole body shakes with laughter. “That’s gotta be a first.”
He grabs paper plates and red plastic cups. I point to the faux-hobnail iced tea glasses as well. He lets out a laugh, grabbing a box of the glasses for me. A bright smile erupts upon my face. “I plan to make real Southern sweet tea and drink my creation out of these old-fashioned looking glasses. Can you umm … add two more boxes?”
Cal scratches his head. “That’s thirty-six tea glasses.”
“I’m clumsy and break things.” I shrug. He chuckles, sliding the boxes into the cart.
A small child runs up the aisle and wraps his arms around Cal’s leg. He squeals with delight when Cal picks him up and swings him into the air. A handsome middle-aged man turns the corner, reaching for the little boy.
“Lose something?” Cal says, passing the child to the man. Standing next to each other, their similar frames and features shine. This must be Martin with another son in tow. They share the same brown hair and brown eyes, and short-cropped haircuts. Cal’s hair is lighter, bleached from the sun, and his skin hones a dark tan from his construction work.
“We saw your truck in the lot. Aiden knew you were in here and made me stop by. I won’t stay if you’re grabbing supper. I’ll get him home and into a bath.” I sneak another glance over my shoulder, matching his face to the deep voice behind Kingfield Properties.
“How did the meeting go?” Cal asks his father.
“We’ll have a string of new cottages to rehab next spring.” Martin’s voice falls away when he notices me glancing their way.
“Great news!” Cal waves for me to join him. “Audrey, this is Martin, and little brother here is Aiden.” Cal tickles the little boy who erupts in sweet giggles. He pulls out a lollipop from his front pocket to give to his squirming brother in his father’s arms. I offer a formal handshake while Martin’s eyes still on my hand. Cal raises his brows at his father as he motions my way.
“Pleased to meet you in person this time, Miss Audrey,” Martin says, grasping my hand. Again, large and rough hands grace mine with a mindful gentleness, like Mace and Cal’s before him. Martin reaffirms how Southern men are true gentlemen. More times than not in New York, a man will be brash greeting you, especially in the business world and if you’re a woman.
“The cottage is beautiful. I haven’t stayed a night, yet feels like I’m coming home. Not to mention, my mother’s personal touches and my grandmother’s treasures are lovely.” Covering my chest with my hand while a soft smile settles on my lips, I share, “I must say, I’m in awe of what you two accomplished alongside my mother before she passed.”
Martin’
s eyes glisten as he nods his head. Cal’s hand comes to rest on his father’s shoulder, sharing a somber look. “Much appreciated,” Martin replies.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” I extend my hand in their direction.
Cal smirks. “Make two grown men weep in a grocery store?”
Martin muffles back a laugh.
“Pop, I was giving Audrey a ride here so she could pick up a few things. Her car is at Doc’s and should be ready soon. The crew’s having a welcome-to-Haven get together for her on the beach tonight.”
“Inkie?” Aiden finishes his lollipop and spies my golden treats. Cal pops open a box and removes the plastic wrap before handing a Twinkie over to his little brother. Aiden is more than happy to devour the snack.
