Cross of Ivy

by Roxi Bahar Hewertson

  Abby gasped, not believing what she was seeing. “It’s, it’s...just like yours, isn’t it, Mama?” Confused, and looking for some explanation, Abby didn’t move.

  “Yes, but more delicate. Just right for you. Let me put it on; you’ll see how right it is.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t. It’s yours. Daddy gave it to you.”

  “He gave it to me, knowing I’d know what to do with it when the time came. C’mon now. Try it on.” The cross hung down, reaching Abby’s skin just above the bodice, sparkling as it caught the light. With her silver earrings, it would be—perfect.

  “Oh thank you, Mama. Thank you!” Abby was crying now, and her makeup began to smear.

  “It was meant for you, Abby, a present from your daddy. Whenever you wear it, he’ll be close to your heart. Now finish getting ready. You do look perfect, and you need to stop worrying. You only have twenty minutes before Wills comes, so no more tears now, okay?”

  Mary left the girls to their primping. Free from observation, huge, hot tears flowed from Mary’s emerald green eyes. She had been blessed with the joy of this child, and yet it seemed that time had come and gone, evaporating like the morning dew in the heat of the sun.

  CHAPTER 15

  Sometimes, when she was very quiet and the night was so still that a dropping pine cone would crack the silence, Mary could hear Frank breathing next to her. She could so easily slide into another time, another life. If only Frank could see his daughter now. He’d be so proud.

  Frank had been one of the lucky ones they’d plucked from the sea. Mary had known the minute they’d brought him aboard her hospital ship that she could not escape him. And now, it was the simple happy things, the intensity of his eyes and the way his body fit hers, so tuned, so right, that haunted her still. Flashes, like flipping picture pages, whipped behind her eyelids in rapid succession. But once in a while, she lingered for a while and savored the memories.

  “Better look out, little girl,” he’d said. “I could be dangerous out here with all this real air. I can’t be held responsible. I’m a little soft in the head, you know!” His big full laugh made everyone laugh along.

  Mary turned around on her heel and looked right into his pale blue catch-your-breath eyes. “Well, I can run faster, so you don’t scare me a bit.”

  But Mary didn’t want to run.

  “I’ve been wondering,” he said. “How do you keep all that red hair under your hat?”

  “I pin it up. I have to, or it gets in the way. You don’t know how much is up there anyway.” She pushed self-consciously at her hat and secured one of the hairpins.

  “Oh, yes, I do. I saw it all when I came aboard. Will you take your hair down for me sometime?” He hopped toward her on his crutches, pretending to attack her hat with a swipe of his hand.

  “Mr. O’Malley! I’ll thank you to keep your grubby hands off my cap. Besides, I hardly know you, and I don’t just let my hair down for any old sailor.” Mary was enjoying this game.

  He cocked his head, looked down at her face and whispered in her ear, “I know when you’re there at night. I can feel you in the room.” Mary turned bright red. She hated that.

  “Sorry if I bothered you. I won’t do it again,” she said, looking down as her ears turned red. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay; that’s all.”

  He touched her chin and lifted it to make her look at him. “You bother me all right, and I want you to keep bothering me. I like the way you bother me. But can you bother me with your hair down sometime?”

  She raised her head and her eyebrows as she looked up at his unshaven face. Her coolness vanished. “We’ll see,” she said. “Maybe if I could see your face without a sandpaper shadow, I’d let you see my hair without a cap.”

  He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “It’s a deal.” Mary felt herself shiver all the way to her wobbly kneecaps.

  Frank was awarded a Navy Cross. He was clean shaven and wore a borrowed uniform jacket to wear over his dingy grey hospital pants, slit up the side to accommodate his full leg cast. Mary stood across from him as the captain pinned the shiny medallion on his lapel. She smiled and winked. He looked sheepish and uncomfortable, shifting from one crutch to the other.

  Afterward, he said, “I’d rather have had my pants on. I mean, it isn’t decent to get this without your pants on, is it?”

  “You look very handsome with or without your pants,” Mary reassured him. “Now, let’s get you to bed.”

  “Now there’s an idea! Why, Miss McCory, I’m surprised at you! All I asked for was a peek at all that gorgeous red hair.”

  “Stop that! You know what I meant, and I didn’t mean anything of the sort.” But Mary had felt the thrill, and there was no turning back. Abby was the living proof of their love.

  Mary thought of how Abby looked today, so full of innocence and anticipation. The similarities between them always took her by surprise. Wasn’t it Frank who had said so long ago that she reminded him of an Irish porcelain doll? Hadn’t he said that she had no idea of how really pretty she was? Just like Abby. She wondered if Abby’s prom day would be like the day she knew Frank was hers, the day he came to her on the deck of the ship.

  She remembered the English drizzle as it fell like a soft sea spray on her face. The air tasted of salt and sea gulls cavorted above her head, calling out to each other with long shrill whistles. The Navy issue rain gear enveloped her so completely that she looked like a monk, rocking gently back and forth, her face hidden from view. Frank had hobbled up to her on his crutches.

  “Look, Mary,” he’d said. “I know this may sound strange, but I just can’t leave you behind in England and go home. I came up to tell you that I’ve managed to get stationed at the base until they put me someplace else.”

  “But you’re injured! Are you serious?”

  He looked directly at her and said so clearly, so sure of himself, “It just seems right, that’s all.”

  Mary’s voice trembled as she looked up at him. “I don’t want you to go, but I don’t feel right that you’re staying on account of me.”

  The crutches dropped to the deck. Frank grabbed the railing with one hand and Mary with his other arm. He pulled her chilled body to him, struggling to keep his balance as he kissed her, mingling his warmth with the salty mist on her lips. She hadn’t stopped him.

  When he relaxed his hold on her, he said, “I’m staying because I’m not ready to say goodbye. Okay? And I don’t know if I ever will be.”

  Her cap fell off and the wind caught her hair. He gasped. Cascades of copper curls fell to her shoulders and down her back. He’d said she looked like an angel about to go airborne.

  “God! Mary, how could I leave you? I’d never have a minute’s rest with you here alone.”

  “Would you kiss me again?” She closed her eyes and raised her face to him. He smelled like shaving soap and salt, clean and masculine.

  Frank braced himself against the railing and held her close to him. They were an undulating silhouette against the sea - their faces damp from the foggy mist. And he kissed her again.

  At that moment, a radiant sliver of sunshine broke away from its cloudy prison, casting a shadow on the deck. The water slapped against the ship’s hull in concert with the whistling gulls as their vessel slipped closer to the coast of England.

  CHAPTER 16

  Mary rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and brushed the sticky hair off her forehead and tried to prepare herself for the beginning of the end of Abby’s childhood. She smoothed out her crinkled dress and joined the rest of the family as they waited for Abby to emerge in all her glory.

  Abby looked like Miss America should look. Waterfalls of hair-sprayed, golden ringlets framed her face - radiant and no longer a child, she was the princess of the ball. Shimmering aqua material flowed over her body, accentuating firm, well-proportioned breasts. Partially bare shoulders added to the illusion of maturity. Her skirts swish-swished with every step as layers upon layers of
slips brushed against each other.

  She floated out as if walking on clouds of silk, gracefully pulling on her long, white gloves, wiggling each finger into its designated space. As though a whistle had been blown, all action stopped in the living room, and in unison, they gasped.

  “What’s wrong? Something’s wrong isn’t it!” Abby’s composure started to slip; in a moment it would be gone entirely.

  “Nothing is wrong, sweetheart,” Mary jumped up.

  Everyone spoke at once. “You just look so lovely.”

  “So grown up!”

  “Simply delicious.”

  Joshua stood. “My dear, Miss Abby. I can honestly say that I have never seen a young lady so stunnin’. A lucky boy, your Wills.”

  $Abby blushed crimson and looked at the floor where her shoes would have been had they not been buried beneath yards of material. “I’m so nervous, I think I might faint! Mama?”

  “You’ll do just fine, just fine.” Out of the corner of her eye, Mary noticed Wills ambling up the walk.

  “I see your young man coming now, Abby. No time to worry.”

  “It’s Wills?” she asked scarcely above a whisper. Just thinking about him made her blush. Whenever he held her hand, she felt a surge of energy, immediately followed by gut butterflies and loss of functioning vocal chords. After a while, she’d get back to normal, but there was always that first moment when she didn’t know what to say.

  Never seeming to notice her state of perplexity, Wills always put her at ease, giving her just enough time to cloak her insecurities in her own brand of aloof. The less she communicated, the safer she felt. He couldn’t know how much she loved him, needed him. To give in was tantamount to losing him. He just wouldn’t want her anymore, she convinced herself.

  Something would go wrong if she wasn’t careful. He’d get tired of her, or realize there were prettier girls, or move away. Abby believed her fairy tale had a midnight and she’d turn back into old Abby and her magical dream would be over. She just didn’t know when it would end, so she danced on eggshells, hoping they wouldn’t crack.

  As was his custom, Joshua rose to answer the door. “Well, well, if it ain’t Wills Taylor. What a good-lookin’ escort you have here, Miss Abby.”

  Wills smiled broadly. “Hey there, Mr. Larkin,” he said. He looked over at Abby. Wills’ mouth fell open, and his eyebrows climbed up his forehead, nearly to the hairline. “Why, Abby, you look so...so fine!”

  He moved toward her, hesitating, then nearly shoved his shiny green cardboard carton in her hand. Abby smiled nervously and thanked him as she gently removed the white rose corsage nestled in sprigs of baby’s breath and all tied together with an aqua satin ribbon. Mary pinned it on her dress, and Abby turned her head to drink in the beautiful scent and smiled.

  “Oh, my, how lovely!” she whispered. She glanced again at Wills and could see he was relieved he’d chosen well.

  Joshua retrieved the camera from the painted pine bookcase and placed the lady and her suitor against the flowered draperies.

  “Now smile big, sweetheart. You, too, Wills,” Mary urged. An entire roll of film sealed for all time the eve of Abby O’Malley’s Prom night. Picture perfect.

  The keys to the Plymouth rattled in Joshua’s hand; his face wore the concern he felt.

  “I’ll be very careful, Mr. Larkin. I promise,” Wills assured him.

  “Good. The car isn’t half so important as the contents, so make sure we see our Abby back home safe and sound, ya hear?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Larkin, I will.” Abby’s begloved hand fell neatly on his outstretched arm, and they practically glided out the door toward the car, but not before she stopped to kiss her mother.

  “Thank you, Mama. Thank you for everything.”

  “Oh, go on now. Have a good time,” Mary said, fighting back the emotions that threatened to unravel what was left of her cool, well-collected countenance. “Go before I cry or something.”

  Everyone preceded Wills and Abby to the porch, parting like the Red Sea at the last moment so they could descend the steps. Emmy was vibrating like she always did when she was excited. Joshua just smiled a fatherly smile, tranquil, slightly amused. He had lived through this scene twice before.

  The last person to wave was Mary. With great difficulty, she lifted her arm and slowly moved her hand from side to side.

  The Plymouth’s front seat was a wide bench, plenty of room for Abby’s full skirt, even when she sat next to Wills. He slid the car into an oversized parking space in front of the high school, turned off the ignition and put his arm around his fairy princess. Her perfume – light, sexy, intoxicating – tickled his nose. He imagined her standing next to him in a wedding dress, adoration all over her face, yielding to his design for the life he had planned. Someday. Someday soon.

  Just sitting close to her made his heart beat faster and triggered his mouth. “God, Abby, I love you.”

  The skin on her legs started to tingle at the memory of their hours at Sugar Point. Little shivers erupted, raising hundreds of goose bumps on her arms. Familiar feelings of guilt and fear mingled in a confused collage of longing and aching, began to invade her previously perfect demeanor.

  “You know I love you, too. But, I’m afraid, kinda. And it’s not right, and you know it. Maybe we’ll just have to do other things like go to the movies, or how about the senior Prom?” And she was afraid, afraid of pain, afraid of losing him, afraid of all the things she’d been taught by the nuns about right and wrong, sins and hell. She was afraid midnight would come. If they could just keep things the way they were, nothing had to change.

  “Okay, you win. We’ll go in. But we have to talk about this some more. It won’t just go away.” He removed the keys from the slot. “C’mon, let’s go see the looks on their faces when they see you walk through the door.”

  Wills reached over her to unlock the door and ran his fingers over her necklace, dipping just enough to feel her responsive breasts shiver at his touch. He flashed a devilish grin, raising just one eyebrow and cocking his head. “Mmm, that was nice.”

  “Wills Taylor! You’re terrible. Right here in front of school. What if somebody was watching?”

  That was the problem, she thought. His touch always left an imprint that she could feel for days, warm, irresistible. And always after Sugar Point, at night, alone, she found herself relieving the pressure in the darkness of her room, rubbing where he rubbed, touching where he touched, bringing herself to sudden ecstasy and believing she was bad, hoping she was not, unable to stop.

  CHAPTER 17

  Louisiana time stops in the summer. A minute moves to fill half the morning; hours drag on for weeks. Keeping cool, or at least surviving the heat, requires thought, practice and patience. In a world inhabited by mold, dead grass, and the perpetual lack of motion...rain, particularly a show-stopping thundershower, is magic. Unlike the melancholy, bone-chilling rain of the winter, summer rain brings back life. It refreshes the air, reviving smells beaten down by the oppressive heat. The clocks tick faster.

  Sugar Point could have been anywhere except for the roar of the Mississippi. The rows of open-windowed cars and beat-up old trucks peppered the river bank.

  Inside, young lovers turned up the temperature, oblivious to the mosquitoes, drowning out the songs of thousands of crickets and frogs with radio-favorite home town boys like John Fred and the Playboys and Johnny Rivers.

  The lovers came from Alesci’s Drive In, the Arcadian Club or the Paramount Theater where old man Domicio would stand outside his theater, calling to everyone to come inside. Sometimes, Sugar Point was the beginning of night prowling in the Quarter down to New Orleans; sometimes, it was the end.

  After graduation, Wills and Abby avoided Sugar Point. All summer she had refused to talk about the future with him. Mama would never understand. She had to go to school; it was her mother’s obsession, always had been. “Abigail,” she always called her Abigail when she was serious or angry. “Abigail, there�
�s nothing certain in this world. You have to be able to take care of yourself. Education might be the only thing that keeps you alive someday, gives you choices.” Abby had nodded, understanding more of the edge in her mother’s voice than the meaning behind her words.

  Sugar Point muddied Abby’s resolve, and that was dangerous.

  It was better to see Wills only on Saturdays and somewhere else, have him in for popcorn and TV, go for walks or a movie, but not Sugar Point.

  Abby emerged from Our Lady of the Lake hospital in her pink and white peppermint stick nurse’s aide uniform. She was tired and hot, looking forward to only two more weeks of work before school started at LSU.

  “Hey there, gorgeous! Wanna go for a malted and cool off?” He reached up and pulled open the sticky door.

  “What in heaven’s name are you doing here? It’s Monday. Something’s wrong, right? What happened?” Abby’s eyes were wide and her voice squeaked a little.

  “Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to see you; that’s all. Already stopped by the house to tell your Mama I would pick you up. So, do you wanna go for a malted?”

  “Sure. I don’t believe that nothin’s wrong. You look funny. Are you mad or somethin’?”

  “Really, Ab. I missed you, okay? Can’t I miss you without somethin’ being wrong?”

  “I guess so. I’m glad you’re here, really, just surprised, that’s all.” She watched him for telltale signs. Nothing.

  Hopper’s was deserted. Abby sipped her chocolate malted while Wills told her about the new calf he helped deliver. “I thought Jasper was gonna have a heart attack, he was workin’ so hard. She had a tough time, but she made it okay. Wanna go for a ride?”

  “Yeah, sure. Where to?”

  “Sugar Point.”

  “Oh,” Abby said.

  “Is that okay?” he asked her. “It’s been awhile, that’s all. I just want to talk, and that’s as good a place as any, perfect really.”