“Things feel a little different now.”
Above them, the summer sky was speckled with stars, the moon a thin eyelash. He took a step toward her, and she let herself relax into the circle of his arms, resting her cheek on his shoulder and breathing him in like he was air, sustenance, strength. After a moment she lifted her head and found his face, his eyes. She softly touched her forehead to his and spoke quietly. “I think you should do what’s best for you and Hazel.”
He remained still for a long moment, then reached up and brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Let’s get you home.”
The Village Vine
Your Source for Neighborhood News
August 22, 2018
Compiled by Shirley Ferrill
Good day, Safe Harbor Village!
Tides
Low tides will occur around 8:00 p.m. for the first few days of the week, and the Bubbas tell me that’s the best time to try your hand at flounder gigging. They’ve already been out once this week and brought in quite a haul. If you’d like to participate, meet on the Golds’ dock at 8:15 p.m. Bring your own gig and a headlamp or lantern if you have one.
Weather
Thankfully the disturbance in the gulf has fizzled and we’re back to plain old summertime H&H. We’ve been lucky in the hurricane department, though let’s not say that out loud. No reason to jinx ourselves, right?
Mosquito index remains high. Fran Metzger at the Masthead reports that she can’t restock her supply of calamine lotion fast enough. Just this morning I popped in for a bottle, but she was wiped clean. Please consider sharing with your neighbors, though it’s probably best to use your own cotton balls.
Recreation
With the paddleboat tours still on hold, Coach has invited everyone to try their hand at beach volleyball. He has staked a net up in the grass by the swimming pool, so it’s more grass than beach volleyball, but no matter. We appreciate his dedication to our recreation and exercise.
Miscellaneous
The So Long, Summer party has been scheduled for Friday, August 31. If you have an extra cooler to contribute, please let Toots Baker know.
I know everyone is on pins and needles wondering whether Jimmy Buffett will be making an appearance at the aforementioned So Long, Summer party. Regardless of the outcome, let’s all agree that the mere possibility of it (however remote it may be) is more than we could ask for. In honor of Mr. Buffett, Elijah has added a new drink to the bar menu at the café. It’s called a Five O’Clock Somewhere, and it is delicious.
Sunrise Café Menu
August 23–August 29
I know I speak for everyone when I say we are thoroughly enjoying the café now that the menu has returned to normal. Personally, I enjoyed the Jell-O, but it’s hard to deny the perfection of Roberta’s bread pudding.
Mains: chicken-fried steak, gumbo with lump crabmeat, fried catfish
Sides: collards, field peas, coleslaw, macaroni & cheese
Desserts: bourbon bread pudding, chess pie, key lime pie
Twenty-Eight
The higher Rose’s age climbed, the quicker time seemed to speed by. It felt as though they’d just put away the wooden dance floor, white tents, and trash barrels, yet here they were dusting them off again, getting ready to close up another summer.
And this particular one had been a summer like no other. So many changes, so many adventures she never thought possible. She reached up and ran her fingers through the ends of her hair, already grown out a bit from her initial cut a few weeks ago. She’d be due for a trim soon.
Rose had just pulled out a couple of the big coolers they used to store drinks and was washing them out in her front yard when she heard ladies chatting. As she rinsed, her back to the street, the voices approached.
“Rose?”
She turned to see two villagers walking toward her. Melba Lane held a clipboard in her hand, and Carlene Cobb wore her trademark yellow sunglasses. Rose turned off the spigot and shaded her eyes with her hand just as Carlene tipped her glasses down to better see Rose’s empty flower beds.
“I heard you pulled up your rosebushes,” she said.
Well, they sure didn’t get up and walk away, Rose thought, then almost immediately bit her own tongue. Kindness . . . friendship, she told herself. “I did.”
“Hmm. It does give you a blank slate now, doesn’t it?” Carlene placed her glasses back on her nose.
Melba tapped a pen against the surface of her clipboard. “As you know, the Romance Readers meet on the third Thursday of every month. We wanted to invite you to our upcoming meeting, which is next week.”
“We’re reading the third book in the Outlander series,” Carlene said, her eyebrows raised. “Have you read them?”
Rose shook her head, and Carlene fanned her face with her hand. “Prepare yourself.”
“Can you make it?” Melba asked.
“Well, I . . . I suppose I can. Thank you for asking. How long are the first two books? Will I have time to catch up before next week?”
“Depends on your appetite for scandal,” Carlene said.
Melba elbowed her. “What she means to say is it depends on how fast you read.” She scanned her clipboard. “Looks like we’re good on fruit and cheese—how do you feel about firecrackers?”
Rose hesitated. “At the book club?”
“She means the actual crackers,” Carlene explained. “You know, saltines, canola oil, spices . . .”
“Oh . . . I’ve heard of them, yes.”
“Great, so I’ll just mark you down to bring those.” Melba made a distinct check mark on her list. “Don’t worry, I’ll send you the recipe. Kitty Cooper is very particular about the seasonings.” She tucked her clipboard under her arm. “We’ll see you Thursday at eleven then.”
As the two ladies turned to leave, Carlene looked back and called out, “It’s good to see you out and about more, Rose. Keep it up and people may stop calling you the Ice Queen.”
Rose watched them a moment as they walked, realizing her long-held nickname—no one had ever said it to her face, but she heard the whispers nonetheless—no longer held any power over her. She was a new Rose.
Just as she was about to turn the spigot back on, Coach’s golf cart rounded the curve toward her cottage. She felt her cheeks lift involuntarily. How does he do that? Her defenses had been up, iron-clad, for years, and yet he’d still found a way in. And she was so glad he did.
As he popped one wheel up on the curb and climbed out, the evening’s sun rays casting an orange glow over everything, Rose was still smiling.
“That’s a happy face,” he said, taking her hand.
She exhaled and felt her shoulders drop, grateful for the release. “It’s a good day, I think.”
“I have to agree with you. I managed to repair the holes in the paddleboats so we can resume our river tours. And I get to end the day with you. Can I buy you dinner?”
Coach extended his elbow, but instead of taking it, she stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
“Now, Rose.” Coach feigned looking over both shoulders. “You have to understand I’m not one for PDA.” He grinned, then pulled her toward him and kissed her full on the mouth.
Her heart fluttered, and when he took a step back, she swatted his shoulder. “Shame on you.”
“I feel no shame at all. But does that mean you can’t have dinner with me?”
“It does. I have to go see someone. Okay if I take a rain check?”
“As long as you cash it in tomorrow.”
* * *
Rose slowed as she turned down Willett Drive. By the time she made it to her brother’s house, the car was barely creeping. Her stomach crawled with nerves, but at the same time a new and unwavering hope carried her feet down the driveway and up the steps to his back porch.
Jim was seated at the kitchen table with his back to the glass door. A plate of fried fish, green beans, and corn bread sat in front of him, and next to his plate was the
newspaper. Knowing Jim, it was the sports section.
It was strange to look at him and see an old man when she half expected him to still look like the twelve-year-old who hurled the rock or the eighteen-year-old who fell in love with a girl named Stella.
She watched him as long as she could, and then she took a step forward and tapped on the door. He put his finger on the page to mark his place, then turned slowly, not in any hurry. When he saw it was Rose, he turned farther, propping his arm on the back of his chair to get a better look.
They remained like that for a long moment—brother and sister through the glass, separated by so many lost years. Finally he turned back around in his seat, causing her breath to catch in her throat. But he picked up his newspaper and set it to the side. Then he stretched out his leg and nudged the chair next to him back a little, to make room for her.
She took a deep breath and opened the door. The kitchen smelled like heaven—like good food and Stella, and memories, and their childhood.
“Come on and have a seat,” he said. “You hungry?”
Rose shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. She sat down and clasped her hands in her lap. Next to her, Jim took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. He replaced his glasses and peered at her, as if making sure it was really his sister sitting there.
“Jim, I—”
“It was a long time ago,” he said quietly. “There were a lot of hurts then. On all sides.”
“I know, but I owe you an apology. Many apologies.”
He propped his chin in his hand. “Can we just let it go? I have my business, you have your village. Life goes on. No need to dig everything back up and air it all out.” He paused. “I’m tired. And I miss you.” Then he smiled. “Took you long enough to make it here.”
Rose’s eyebrows rose. “You wanted to talk to me? Why didn’t you call?”
He shrugged. “Stubborn, I guess.”
Rose laughed, a quick burst. “You and me both.”
“Well, I guess that’s one thing we have in common.” He reached and covered her hands with his big one. It was sun spotted and rough, the hand of someone who’d worked all his life and made an honest living.
“You can move past it all?” she asked, her voice low. “Just like that?”
He shook his head. “No. Not just like that. It took a long time. But I forgave you a long time ago. I’ve just been waiting for you to show back up.” He pulled his hand away and stood. “Now, you look like you could use some meat on your bones. Let me fix you a plate.”
Twenty-Nine
Just like the party at the beginning of the summer, the day of the So Long, Summer party broke with a thunderstorm that tore open the sky. All of Lily’s customers canceled their appointments. Even Janelle wouldn’t brave the elements to make it to the salon for her ten o’clock.
“The partygoers will have to make do with my gray roots,” she told Lily on the phone. “And anyway, I’m thinking of going back to Electric Blonde. The caramel may be mysterious, but Seymour told me he liked it better when it was lighter.”
The rain finally slacked in the late afternoon, just in time to get ready for the party. Lily dressed comfortably in a pale green linen dress and sandals, though they’d be covered in mud in minutes. She knew she wouldn’t see Rawlins, as he’d called the evening before to tell her he’d miss the party.
“They called to set up an interview,” he’d said. “The catch is, they want to see me tomorrow. Their timeline is bumped up, and they need someone to start quickly.”
“Wow. Well, that could be good for you. You won’t have to wait as long, wondering.”
“Yeah.” He hesitated. “They’re only interviewing one other candidate. They’re talking to him today, me tomorrow.”
“Will you miss the party?”
He sighed. “I don’t think I’ll be back in time. The interview’s not until four, and it’s more than three hours away.”
Lily nodded, though Rawlins couldn’t see her.
“I’m sorry to miss it. Can I call you this weekend? Let you know how the interview goes?”
“Of course,” she’d said.
She glanced at the clock on her phone. By now he probably knew whether he got the job.
Just before leaving her cottage, she paused in the doorway. She could already hear the music—Peter’s bass and Cricket’s high, lonesome violin. She took a deep, satisfying breath. This place, these people, this time in her life—this was her second chance. Her do-over. Her reclaimed life. She shook the hair back from her face and stepped out into the balmy evening.
* * *
The party was in full swing by the time she arrived, the food tables half-empty, and Toots Baker’s pitcher of Alabama Slammer almost drained. She wasn’t hungry anyway, or thirsty for that matter. Without stopping to chat with anyone, Lily walked along the perimeter of the crowd down the grass to the shoreline where the bay—so still it looked almost solid—just barely made a ripple on the sandy shore.
She slipped off her sandals and walked all the way to the water, not stopping until her feet were fully submerged. The water was bath-warm and soft as silk. Beneath her toes she felt tiny shards of shells, broken by the currents and tides. The moon, on its slow way back to full, was a pale glimmer in the otherwise purple sky.
As Lily stared out at the water, her mind trapped somewhere between Georgia and Louisiana, she saw a tiny disturbance in the water, not much more than an odd ripple, several feet from the shore. She watched the spot carefully, trying to see clearly in the twilight, and as she did, something surfaced. She saw sleek gray skin, a rounded head, and a whiskered muzzle like a hippo’s.
She almost laughed out loud, though after a summer of such unexpected surprises and beauty, it made perfect sense that she’d spot this creature returning again to the shores of the village.
“Lily, is that you?” Rose’s voice carried through the music and to Lily’s ears. She turned. Rose stood a ways back with Tiny and Kitty.
“What are you doing, standing out there like a statue all alone?” Kitty called. “Are you going to come dance with us or what?”
Lily checked the water again, but the manatee was gone. She watched a moment, willing its bulbous body to surface again, but the bay was calm and unbroken. She took a deep breath and turned back.
“How about that dance?” Rose asked, one eyebrow raised.
“One dance,” Lily said, making her way toward her friends.
“If we make it a good one, that’s all we need,” Kitty said, running ahead to whisper something in Peter’s ear.
A moment later they began “Brown Eyed Girl,” and every able body on the grass jumped up to dance. Even Seymour Eldins danced, though he remained seated on his motorized scooter. Standing next to him, Janelle swiveled her hips.
Coach found his way to the group and, with a smile of apology, twirled a laughing Rose and whispered something in her ear. Lily closed her eyes and let the music carry her away. She focused only on the feel of her feet in the grass, the air on her cheeks, the merry laughter around her. Her heart beat steadily in her chest, reminding her she was still wholly and doggedly alive.
When the song ended, Coach pulled away from Rose and ran up to the makeshift stage. “If I can just have a second,” he said to the band members. When Peter nodded, Coach tapped the microphone a few times and grinned. “I’ve always wanted to do that.” He cleared his throat. “Many of you have asked if we will be treated to an appearance by Jimmy Buffett at tonight’s party.”
A buzz of chatter began and spread quickly through the grass. Lily looked at Rose, who only shrugged.
“I’m sorry to say he is not coming.” Coach held up a hand to quiet the murmur of disappointment. “But if you can believe it, he sent me an email today.” The buzz picked back up. “If you’d let me, I’d like to read it to you all.”
He slid a pair of wire-rimmed glasses onto his nose, then peered at his phone and began to read.
“‘Dear Safe Harbor Village, I’m sorry I can’t be there to help you bring the summer to a close, but I have a feeling you’ll do just fine on your own. It makes me smile knowing there’s a village on the Alabama coast, all of you learning and loving and laughing together and enjoying life to the fullest. You’re an inspiring bunch of old coots, and my hat’s off to you! I hear you’ve got a swinging band playing there tonight, so do me a favor and tell them Jimmy is asking if they know a song called “Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes.” If they do, this one’s from me.’”
As the band took their cue from Mr. Buffett himself, Coach took off his glasses and pocketed his phone, and cheers erupted all over the grass.
* * *
Lily’s dancing lasted for much longer than the single dance she’d promised, but finally she said it was time for her to turn in.
“Never thought I’d see the day,” Rose said. “Me out here dancing in my bare feet while someone forty years younger than me goes home to bed.”
Lily smiled. “Wonders never cease.” She reached out and hugged Rose. “Thank you. For everything.”
She turned to go, but Rose called her. “I think it’s safe to say you’ve survived your trial period.”
Lily laughed. “You think so? I’d almost forgotten about that.”
“I didn’t. And I could use some help in the office, if you’re interested.”
“Really?”
Rose nodded. “I was going to hire someone anyway, but then you came along. I figured if you made it past the trial period, I’d bring you in, show you the ropes in the clubhouse.”
“Well, Rose, I’m glad I made it.”
“Me too.”
Rose turned back to the music and her friends, and Lily headed home. At her cottage she propped open the door so she could still hear the music, then left her dirty sandals on the front porch. She walked across the cool floor and sat on the couch, relishing the chilled air after the thick heat outside. After a moment she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
The Summer House Page 29