More Than This

by Stephanie Taylor

  “I know, but I wanted to observe and see who was arriving before we threw ourselves into the fray.”

  “What fray, doll?” Bonnie turns to Fiona. “We’re talking three humans, not a glut of aliens here to eat our souls and conquer our civilization. Let’s go.”

  Bonnie yanks Fiona’s hand, pulling her out the door and onto the sidewalk. She straightens her shoulders and approaches the tiny group as they sort through their luggage and look around.

  “I’m just guessing here,” Bonnie says to Fiona, leaning in closer as they walk, “but that older woman on the boat has to be related to Vance and Calista,” she says, nodding at a black woman with regal posture. “And the other two must be related to Hal Pillory.”

  “Right! Holly did say that Hal’s granddaughter and her son were coming down to stay with him full-time.” Fiona pulls the sunglasses off the top of her head and puts them on so that she can check out the small group from behind her lenses.

  “Hi, y’all!” Bonnie calls out, waving. “Welcome!”

  A leggy, dark-haired woman puts up a hand to shield her eyes. “Hi,” she says tiredly. “I’m Katelynn Pillory. This is my son Logan.” Katelynn puts a hand on the shoulder of a tall, rangy teenager. He scowls at the horizon.

  “Oh, honey,” Bonnie says, throwing her arms wide and launching herself at the woman. “We’re so glad to see you. Hal is just a dear, and we loved your grandma so much.”

  “Thank you,” Katelynn says, extracting herself from Bonnie’s clutches. “We’re glad to be here.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Logan says under his breath. The women ignore him.

  “My uncle is ready to head back home to Ohio, so I’m here to take over my grandfather’s care,” Katelynn explains, shifting her purse from one shoulder to the other. Hal Pillory’s daughter and son had been caring for him after it was discovered that Hal was digging holes all over the island without explanation and just generally acting out of sorts. It was a confusing time for the islanders who were baffled by Hal’s strange behavior, and after discovering the real reason he’d been digging the holes (to find the ashes of his beloved late wife, Sadie, which he’d buried to keep safe from a storm), Fiona had run some tests and realized that Hal needed more care than they could offer him.

  “We’re really glad that you’re here,” Fiona says, offering Katelynn a hand rather than a hug, which felt more professional to Fiona as Hal’s physician. “And it’s nice to meet you, too,” she says to Logan.

  “Logan is going to finish his junior and senior year through an online school that the state of Florida provides,” Katelynn explains. “And I’m going to be doing some freelance writing while we’re here. This is going to be quite an adventure for both of us.”

  “Sweet Mary and Moses at Sunday brunch,” the other woman says as she finally steps off the boat behind them. “The good Lord found it in His heart to get us here in one piece, and now I’ve got to stand around waiting to see my family, who aren’t even here to greet me.” Her head is wrapped in a yellow scarf, and ropes of amber beads hang around her smooth, mahogany-colored neck. “Idora Blaine-Guy,” she says with her chin held high. “Mother of Vance, grandmother of Mexico and Moritz.” Idora holds out a hand with nails painted a shiny orange-red. Bonnie shakes it first.

  “Well, I do declare,” Bonnie says, looking the woman up and down. “Calista has told us so much about you.”

  Idora’s nostrils visibly flare. She laces her fingers together and clasps them just below her large breasts. “I’m sure she has.”

  The boat’s captain unloads boxes and bags from the cargo hold as an awkward silence falls over the small group. There’s still no sign of anyone to greet the newcomers, so Fiona claps her hands together decisively.

  “Now,” she says, “let’s get you all to where you’re supposed to be. How about if I drive Katelynn and Logan so that I can fill her in a little on what’s been going on with her grandpa, and Bonnie, maybe you can run Idora over to Vance and Calista’s?”

  Bonnie springs into action. “Got it. I’ll just pull my golf cart up here,” she says, already moving towards the B&B, “and we’ll get you all loaded up and ready to go.”

  The new arrivals look a little baffled by the fact that they’ve been dumped on a dock on a strange island and left to fend for themselves, but the women smile gamely. Logan folds his arms and scowls again.

  It takes about ten minutes to get both Bonnie’s and Fiona’s carts loaded with luggage, and then they’re off to deliver everyone and everything to their desired destinations. On the way to Vance and Calista’s, Idora clutches a large fabric purse in her lap and hums gospel tunes to herself. She watches the island roll by as Bonnie points out shops and landmarks. The triplets are standing in front of Tinsel & Tidings gift shop, which serves as the island’s tiny grocery store, and they wave excitedly, identical smiles on their youthful faces.

  “Oh my,” Idora says, leaning forward in her seat so she can crank her neck and watch as Gwen, Gen, and Glen disappear behind them. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen triplets before in the flesh.” She puts one hand over her heart. “The Lord does work in mysterious ways now, doesn’t He?”

  “Indeed He does, sugar,” Bonnie agrees. “Indeed He does.”

  They turn up White Christmas Way and stop in front of the pink house with turquoise shutters that Vance and Calista Guy are renting with their twin boys, Mexi and Mori. Like most of the other houses on the island, the Guys have made a nod towards the year-round holiday decorations by wrapping the trunk of the biggest palm tree in their yard with Christmas lights. Idora takes this in with a frown.

  “Mama!” Vance Guy says with obvious joy. “I didn’t realize your boat was coming in so early!” He’s been on his knees on the side of the house, pulling up weeds and tossing them into a growing pile in the grass. Vance slips his hands out of the gardening gloves he’s wearing and strides over to where his mother is trying to push herself out of Bonnie’s golf cart. “Here, let me help you.”

  “No need,” Idora says, holding up a warning hand. “I might be almost seventy, but I’ve still got my wits about me, child.”

  Vance pauses and waits for his mother to stand and straighten her long, voluminous wrap dress.

  “Grandma!” The twins come barreling out of the house, shoving each other as they trip over their own bare feet to get to their grandmother. “Grandma! Grandma! Grandma!” They launch their small bodies at their grandmother like missiles, wrapping their arms around her and burying their impish faces in her stomach.

  “Hello, my loves,” Idora says, cradling the matching heads of her twin grandsons. Their hair has grown and filled in since they arrived on the island earlier in the spring, and now their afros look like miniature versions of their mother’s wild halo of hair. In contrast, Vance’s hair is cropped close to the scalp, and small flecks of gray are visible above his temples. “Doesn’t your mother work at a salon?” she asks the boys with a frown as she pats their springy curls. “Why hasn’t she gotten you in for a haircut lately?”

  “Mom,” Vance interrupts, opening his arms so that he can hug his mother. “We’re so glad you’re here.”

  Bonnie is still sitting behind the wheel of the cart, watching this family reunion with a smile. “I can second that,” she says, holding up a hand like she’s taking an oath. “These boys are adorable, but a real handful.”

  Vance laughs quietly. “They’ve given everyone on the island a real run for their money.” In his voice Bonnie can hear the memory of Mori’s near drowning in the B&B’s pool, and she knows that for Vance and Calista, the challenge of having his mother live with them will be outweighed by her ability to help keep an eye on two rambunctious six-year-olds.

  “Well, Grandma is here now,” Idora says soothingly, holding out her hands to pull the twins close again. They attach themselves to her sides obediently. “Everything is going to be just hunky-dory.”

  “Come see your room!” Mexi says, grabbing onto his gra
ndma’s left hand.

  “Yeah, ith wight nekth to my woom!” Mori says with his trademark lisp.

  “It’s right next to our room,” Mexi corrects, tugging his grandmother’s hand. Idora abandons her bags and luggage in Bonnie’s cart as she trails her grandsons into the house. She gives the pink exterior paint an appraising glance as they pass through the doorway.

  “So,” Vance exhales. “Test number one: total failure.” He tosses his gardening gloves onto the mound of mulch that surrounds the base of a palm tree.

  “Oh, sugar, what do you mean? Your mother seems,” she pauses here, searching for a word that won’t carry a tinge of Southern disdain, “lovely.”

  “Lovely is a stretch—especially since I know you’ve been talking to my wife,” he says, wagging a long finger at Bonnie. “She’s a handful. Eccentric, opinionated, and passionate about being right.”

  “So basically she’s like every other woman on the planet and like every other old person on this damn island,” Bonnie jokes.

  “You do have a point there,” Vance admits. “But I didn’t show up to get her at the boat dock, and I’ll never hear the end of that. I’m sure Calista saw her through the window of the salon and ducked behind the front desk.”

  Bonnie shuts off her cart and climbs out, her struggle to move her backside from a sitting position to a standing one neatly mirroring the struggle Idora has just had. “Oh, I doubt that,” she says, waving off the idea of a woman who might hide from her own mother-in-law, but remembering more than one time when she’d done the same thing to the late Ruth Lane during her marriage to Ruth’s son. (A particular Christmas Day cigarette behind a horse stable at Ruth and Eli Lane’s farm in rural Georgia when Bonnie’s boys were little comes to mind…)

  Pulling herself back to the present, Bonnie points at the items in the back of her golf cart. “Let me help you get this stuff moved inside,” she says.

  “Oh, no, Bonnie—seriously. You stay put. I’ve got this.” Vance offloads the luggage in less than two minutes, piling everything near the front door of his bungalow. “I appreciate you running her over, and I’m sure Calista does, too.”

  “Tell her she owes me a free massage for taking on mother-in-law duty,” Bonnie teases.

  “She’d probably give you a year of free massages if you’d take over Idora duty on a permanent basis.”

  “That I can’t do, but she’s an interesting lady, so I’d love to take her for a cup of coffee once she gets settled in. You know, give her the low-down on the island and tell her what’s what.”

  “That sounds…dangerous,” Vance says with a laugh, running a hand over his short hair. “And I’m sure she’d love it. Thanks again, Bonnie.”

  Bonnie is almost back to the B&B when she realizes that the first thing she’d normally do in a situation like this is sit down with Holly and talk about the newcomers. It seems like things are changing on a daily basis at this rate, and the extra seven people who are currently on Christmas Key would be worth at least an hour or two of discussion over nachos and margaritas at Jack Frosty’s.

  Bonnie pulls into the B&B’s lot and shuts off her cart. A dark feeling settles into the pit of her stomach, and an awareness that things just aren’t right washes over Bonnie. It’s as if she just realized the most obvious thing in the world, and now that it’s hit her, she starts to panic. In the midst of all the hubbub and the comings and goings, she’s forgotten to be really and truly worried about the most basic fact: that no one has heard back from Holly.

  13

  Dinner at the house in Fairford is going to be an outdoor affair, and Holly can hear the preparations below through the cracked window of the bedroom. The gardens of the house stretch down to a riverbank, and the back patio is a stone slab that’s cracked and mossy in all the right places. Holly glances up from the computer screen in front of her and watches the activity on the ground floor as Allison and Sarah and two men she hasn’t met yet drag a table and chairs into place for dinner. Sarah plugs in a string of clear fairy lights that are looped around the patio, and there’s talk of roast chicken and side dishes. It feels like a summer barbecue.

  On the monitor, Holly quickly taps in her password to her email account. In less than ten seconds, her inbox is staring back at her.

  “One, two, three, four, five…” she counts sixteen messages from Bonnie in all, eight from Fiona, and a couple from her other neighbors. There’s a rush of adrenaline as she clicks the very first one from Bonnie, sent late on Friday, May 12th. It’d probably come in as Holly and River had sat in the police station in Notting Hill.

  Sugar—there’s no need to worry…yet. Fee and I tried to call you from the beach tonight outside the Ho Ho, but no answer. Listen, Coco is coming to town. There’s no way to put a candy coating on this lump of dung, so I’m just gonna say it. She called the B&B and then she called Buckhunter, and she’s coming down with some people she wants to show the island to. I’ll keep you posted, but please call me as soon as you get this! Love and kisses, Bon

  Holly reads and re-reads the message, her eyes scanning the screen rapidly like a spy who might get caught riffling through the desk of a top government official. She commits the info to memory and moves on to the next one from Bonnie, sent on Saturday night.

  The eagle has landed, sugar—or should I say the crow? (Haha—you know, because Coco is a bony old crow…okay, never mind.) Anyhow, Fiona and I were on hand to see her and her guests arrive today, and here’s the skinny: a rich-looking older couple named the Killjoys (I couldn’t make this stuff up!) and a Native American guy named Gator with no apparent sense of humor. They’re staying at the B&B for a few days. We’ll have to see how things go—after all, you can’t tell much about a chicken pie till you get through the crust. CALL ME! Love, Bon

  Holly pats her pockets frantically, automatically searching for her phone. Of course, there is no phone. She scans the room, but there’s nothing. Skyping Bonnie isn’t out of the question, but the noise it would make to call and talk to her is probably a bad idea.

  “Hol?” River’s heavy footsteps echo on the stairs. She logs out of her email without reading anything else and clicks off the monitor so that the screen goes black. “Holly—you up here?” It’s too late to leave the room and step into the bedroom that she and River are sharing, so before he reaches her, Holly pushes in the desk chair, stands, and gazes out the window at the rolling grass and the water beyond the house, hands on her hips like she’s pondering the view.

  “Hey, is this our room?” River is standing in the doorway when Holly turns around with a placid smile on her face.

  “This one? Oh, no, I was just coming back downstairs and I saw the view through this window,” she says. “Beautiful place.”

  “Yeah, it is.” A split-second passes between them where River is clearly gauging Holly’s answer. His left eye narrows almost microscopically, and just as quickly, the moment passes. “Hey, do you want to go for a walk around the property before dinner? They kicked me out of the kitchen,” he says, holding out a hand for Holly to take.

  “Sure.” She steps away from the window and takes his hand, grateful for the escape.

  They wander through the tall grass all the way to a boathouse by the river, stopping to pick a few wildflowers as they talk about the crazy idea that they’re about to be models in a real magazine. Holly laughs and smiles at River’s jokes, high-stepping over rocks and following him up little hills and grassy knolls. In the distance the spire of a stone church that dates back to the 15th century is visible beyond the treetops.

  A solid bridge with a gate at each end lets them cross back and forth over the narrow river. From where they are, Holly can see the outdoor lights twinkling over the patio on what has turned out to be a clear and beautiful evening.

  “Should we head back?” River asks, turning to hand Holly another bunch of wildflowers.

  As much as she isn’t in the mood to have dinner tonight with a bunch of strangers, Holly knows it’s time
. She fills her lungs with air and nods. “Let’s get this show on the road,” she says with a forced smile.

  Whether she wants to or not, it’s time to put on her game face and try to push the emails from Bonnie out of her mind.

  “So you two met on this tropical island?” Sarah asks, her eyes dancing between Holly and River as she searches their faces. “And it was totally random—just a fishing trip with the boys that turned into true love?”

  “That’s amazing,” Allison adds, pushing back her chair on the patio and standing up to pour more wine into everyone’s glasses.

  Holly looks down at the table sheepishly. She isn’t ready to address whether or not their initial meeting on Christmas Key was kismet or true love, and she’s pretty sure that River isn’t about to drop to one knee and profess his undying love either.

  “Well,” River says, drawing out the pause. They’re just getting their footing again after so many months apart, and he jiggles his leg nervously next to Holly’s under the table.

  “Oh,” Sarah says, her mouth staying in position after the small word. She turns it into a low whistle. “Sorry. That’s none of my business.”

  “No,” Holly says too loudly. “It’s fine. We’ve had a couple of hiccups since we met, but we live three thousand miles apart. Long-distance relationships are hard.” River says nothing, but reaches for his refilled wine glass, knocking his fork and knife off his plate noisily in the process. “And we’re hoping that this trip will give us a clearer picture of what the future holds.”

  “How exciting!” Allison flings her bright red hair over one shoulder and blinks with wide eyes. “And romantic. Where are you going?”

  River sets the wine glass down. “We’re going wherever the wind takes us,” he says, resting one strong arm on the back of Holly’s chair. “We got mugged the first night we were in London, and Holly lost her phone and cash.”