by Karen White
Lulu shrugged and shook her head, her eyes considering the space where Emmy wanted the story hour.
Abigail continued. “Well, I haven’t run across it in twenty years, which makes me think that it might be lost forever.”
Lulu crossed her arms over her chest, her hair and her stature making her look like an old Indian chief, and stuck out her chin. “I suppose I could decorate the children’s corner for you. But it won’t come cheap.”
Emmy frowned. “Of course I would pay you for your work.”
The corner of Lulu’s mouth lifted in what Emmy guessed was a wide grin for her. “I heard what you were saying about the Web site. I’d like you to hire Jolene to do it, and I want a page on there for my bottle trees.”
Emmy blinked several times, not sure she’d heard correctly. “Jolene? As in Heath’s ex-fiancée?”
Abigail put a hand on her arm. “She’s an interior designer in Atlanta, but she’s developed an award-winning interactive Web site for her business. It’s pretty innovative, which you young people think is the best way to be. You can build floor plans and place actual to-scale pieces of furniture that you find on her site to make sure it all fits.”
Emmy forced a smile. “That sounds great and all, but . . . Jolene?”
Lulu stuck her chin out again. “Don’t like her ’cause she’s so pretty, right?”
Crossing her arms tightly, Emmy explained, “It’s not that I like her or don’t like her. I’ve only met her once, and she was drunk. Not a good first impression for a prospective employee.”
“Maybe not,” Lulu continued, “but it seems to me like you need a new project. Folly’s Finds will get along just fine without being messed with, but you won’t.”
“Excuse me?” Emmy frowned at the older woman, half wanting her not to explain herself.
Abigail stepped in. “And Jolene can do the work in Atlanta, too. It might give her something else to focus on besides Heath.”
Emmy looked from Lulu to Abigail, then back again; their matching expressions of hopeful anticipation would have been almost comical if the women weren’t both so serious.
Unable to give them a flat-out no, Emmy stalled for time. “Okay. Fine. I’ll talk to her. I’m not promising anything, though. And if she’s too expensive, it’s a definite no.” She eyed Lulu, who was standing with a decidedly smug expression on her face. “And on one condition.”
Lulu looked wary.
“I want you to be the one to read to the children. You’re about the same height, so they shouldn’t be intimidated.”
Lulu’s expression went from relief to amusement, surprising Emily and making her wonder what Lulu thought she might ask instead. “One more thing, Lulu.” She reached under the counter where she’d stored the copy of The Great Gatsby she’d found in the turret. When her fingers touched the cover, the familiar electric pulse coursed up her arm, surprising her because she hadn’t felt it before. Hesitating only a brief moment, she held the book out to Lulu. “This book is dedicated to Margaret, from Peter. Do you know who Margaret was?”
Lulu took the book and held it for a moment before opening the front cover, then slowly turning to the title page. She smiled softly as she read the inscription, her face softening like clouds after a storm. “Peter was the only one who called her that. She was known to everyone else as Maggie.”
Emmy rubbed her arm, the memory of the static shock still fresh. “And who was Peter? He signed your book, too.”
Lulu began to turn the pages slowly, keeping her head down. “He was Maggie’s friend. He traveled a lot and always brought us gifts—mostly books since we all shared a passion for reading.”
“Was he a soldier?”
“No.” Lulu shook her head. “A civilian. He had asthma and couldn’t do active service. But his father owned a factory out west, so Peter was sent out as a salesperson and to determine wartime needs of both the military and civilians.”
Emmy watched Lulu closely, her years of scrutinizing small scraps of text and searching for relevance piquing her curiosity. “What happened to him?”
Lulu shrugged without looking up. “He . . . left. He was here one day, and gone the next. We never heard from him again. It was the middle of the war. We always assumed he must have been called into active service despite his asthma, or he was working on secret military contracts and couldn’t let us know where he was.”
Emmy lifted her hair off of her neck again, the store suddenly suffocating. “But what about after the war—still no word?”
Lulu slowly shook her head and closed the book before holding it against her ample chest. “No word. I figure he just got on with his life and forgot about us here on Folly.”
Emmy continued to watch Lulu, convinced there was more to the story but just as sure that the other woman was not going to reveal it. She indicated the book. “You can keep that, if you like.”
“Thank you,” Lulu said, her words clipped.
The bell rang as the door opened again, allowing a blast of hot, humid air to invade the store. Emmy turned to see a tall, attractive, and very pregnant woman enter the store. Her hair was a sun-tinted light brown and her eyes only a shade darker, and she looked vaguely familiar. Abigail rushed toward her and enveloped her in a hug. “Lizzie sweetheart, what are you doing out in this heat?”
Grabbing the woman’s arm, Abigail led her toward Emmy. “Emmy, this is my daughter, Elizabeth—yes, after Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice. I know you’re probably tired of hearing me talking about her, so here she is in person.”
Lizzie appeared to be about Emmy’s age, and as they shook hands, Emmy couldn’t help but notice how much she resembled her brother, Heath.
As if reading Emmy’s mind, Lizzie said, “Yes, we’re twins. And I’m expecting a girl and boy twins, too, which is why I’m here today.”
She seemed to notice Lulu for the first time, and gave her a huge hug and kiss on the cheek before turning back to Abigail. “Dr. Clemmens said she’s going to induce me on Monday because I’m getting too big, and my ankles are now thicker than my waist. So I decided to come out to Folly and get everybody for dinner at Taco Boy to celebrate my last free Friday night without diapers and spit-up.” She put her arm around Emmy’s shoulders. “Mama’s told me so much about you that I feel as if we’re practically best friends. So please tell me you’ll come, too.”
Before Emmy could respond, Abigail said, “You know, Lizzie, only the Mt. Pleasant people eat at Taco Boy. Why don’t we go to Snapper Jacks instead?”
Lizzie frowned. “Mama, I’ve lived in Mt. Pleasant for four years, so it’s time to get used to the fact that your own daughter is now a ‘Mt. Pleasant person.’ Besides, it’s my party, and I can have it where I want. And Taco Boy has the best guacamole anywhere, and I know I won’t be able to eat that for a long, long time.”
Emmy frowned to hide her relief that she couldn’t go. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, but crowds always made her nervous, and meeting new people always meant questions that she dreaded answering. “Thanks, but I’m scheduled to close tonight, so I don’t think I can make it.”
Lizzie waved her hand dismissively. “So close early—this is Folly Beach. People will understand.”
As much as Emmy wanted to protest, she knew that Lizzie was right. Even though she’d only been on Folly for little over a month, it had become clear to her that Folly Beach time was fluid and flexible and on nobody’s schedule. Assuming people had schedules here. And she hadn’t quite decided if that was something to love or hate about her new home. Knowing Lizzie wouldn’t accept no for an answer, she nodded. “Sure. I can be there. What time?”
“Five o’clock. My parents like to eat early like the other seniors.” She rolled her eyes as her mother elbowed her gently in the arm. “Afterward, I thought we could go over to the pier. They’re having one of the last Moonlight Mixers tonight, and I’d hate to miss it. Who knows when I’ll get a chance to dance again?”
Emmy had no desir
e to dance in public but figured she could leave right after dinner without anybody noticing. They all glanced over at Lulu, and Emmy expected the older woman to decline because she couldn’t picture Lulu in a social setting in which she’d be expected to be nice to people.
“I’ve got to finish up a custom order, but I guess I can be there.”
Lizzie clapped her hands together and smiled as if Lulu’s acceptance had been an enthusiastic one. “Great. Joe and I will see everybody then. Nice to meet you, Emmy. I’ll look forward to getting to know you better over margaritas.” She frowned, patting her swollen belly. “Well, one margarita and one glass of ice water.”
Lulu allowed Lizzie to hug and kiss her good-bye, and then they all watched her leave. Abigail shook her head and smiled. “Having twins will serve her right. She and Heath just about killed me when they were younger.” Her face softened slightly. “She and Joe didn’t plan to have kids, but then Heath got sick, and it made Lizzie sort of reevaluate her life. And I sure am glad she did. I’m going to be a grandma! Still hard to wrap my mind around it, but there you have it.”
Emmy forced a smile, and tried not to think about the plans she and Ben had made—the plans she’d shelved like a tissue-covered treasure while she’d waited for him to return. It was the thoughts of their own home and babies that had been her bedtime companion on the lonely nights without him—dreams that became for her living, breathing things. It made her grief harder now. Waiting to start a family had been her idea, and burying Ben had meant burying his unborn children alongside him. She wondered, sometimes, if that was why she still felt Ben around her, a restless spirit searching for what might have been.
Abigail touched her arm, and Emmy realized she’d asked a question while Emmy’s mind had been gathering wool. “I’m sorry—what did you say?”
“I said that I still have some of Maggie’s old photos. She wrote names on the backs of most of them, so maybe we’ll find a picture of that Peter fellow. If he was a friend to Maggie and Lulu, we might have to stick him in a frame. I took the pictures out of the albums because the old albums they were put in weren’t archival quality, and I didn’t want the photos to disintegrate. I have them loose in a box now, waiting to be put in a new album or framed—I haven’t decided yet. One of those things I thought I’d do once I retired.”
Their eyes met at the forbidden word, and they both looked away at the same time.
Lulu still clutched Maggie’s book, her fingers white at the tips. “I’ve got to get back to work. Just got a delivery of my tree limbs, and I’ve got to sort them.” She stopped when she reached the back door. Without turning around, she said, “Thank you for Maggie’s book. It was her favorite.”
The door rang as a woman with a young child entered the shop, and Emmy turned to greet them. By the time she’d turned back, Lulu was gone.
LULU STOOD IN FRONT OF the vacant lot where the old house had once been, and where the encroaching blackberry vines and the weathered white cross near the back fence were the only reminders that lives had been lived and lost here.
In the beginning, right after the storm and during the search for Maggie, Lulu had placed a bottle tree here in the hope that she’d find a message from Maggie in one of the bottles, or at least turn away the evil spirits that had managed to come into their lives. But the bottles kept getting stolen, so Lulu took down the tree, deciding that it was too late to ward away the bad spirits; they’d taken root here long before Hugo blew in on 135-mile-per-hour winds.
Lulu’s fist hurt from clenching it so tightly around her handful of sand, but she’d been doing this ritual for twenty years and wasn’t going to allow a little bit of arthritis stop her now. She moved slowly toward the cross and carefully got down on her knees in front of it, another painful and laborious process that she refused to concede to. Opening her hand one finger at a time, she allowed half of the sand to fall at the base of the cross. Maggie had loved the beach and the ocean, and even though they’d never found her body, it gave Lulu some consolation to know that she was buried under the blanket of her beloved Atlantic. And every once in a while, she wondered if Maggie’s spirit knew that the waiting was finally over.
Using her other hand to help her stand, she began to pace twenty steps to the right before stopping and going through the process of kneeling again. Opening up her fist, she allowed the remaining sand to drift down to the ground. This memorial was for Jim, whose bottle tree had once stood on the spot. It was sacred to Lulu, for many reasons—reasons Lulu expected to take with her to her grave.
“Aunt Lulu, it’s too hot for you to be out here without your hat.”
She recognized Heath’s voice before twisting around to see him standing there like a bronzed god, his hair now blessedly long after having it shaved off. She hadn’t expected him to survive, had even seen his sickness as just punishment, and now to see him so fit and happy, it made her think that maybe she’d already atoned for her sins.
He took hold of her elbow and helped her stand. “I’m fine, just fine. Don’t need you to be adding me to your worries.”
He smiled his wonderful smile that so reminded her of Maggie, of her gentleness and resilience. “I don’t have any worries, remember? I’ve finally taken Grandma Maggie’s words to heart: live for the day in the best way possible, and everything else will work itself out. Seems to be working for me so far.”
She frowned. “Yeah, except for the cancer.”
“Now, now, Aunt Lulu, that’s only because I hadn’t embraced her philosophy yet. But while I was going through the radiation, that’s what got me through. It changed my life—in a good way.”
She looked up at him, thinking again of Maggie and if she’d died still believing in her own words of wisdom. “What are you doing here?”
Heath squinted into the sun, surveying the lot. “Just seeing if today is the day this place speaks to me and tells me what to do with it.” He looked back at her. “You know, the land is much more valuable today than when you deeded it to me. I feel as if you’ve been taken advantage of.”
Lulu shook her head. “It’s yours, fair and square. Maggie would have wanted this to be yours, to do with it whatever you think is right. I don’t have any use for it.”
Heath moved away from her, taking in the riotous vines and scrubby grass, picking up a beer bottle somebody had thrown. “I don’t know. I can’t seem to get a clear picture here. It’s like the whole place is restless and can’t settle down.” He sent a smile to Lulu. “And if you repeat any of this to anyone, I’ll cement you in the foundation.”
She snorted. “You and what army? I think I still outweigh you by fifty pounds. You got some catching up to do.”
“I’m working at it.” He kicked at the ground with the toe of his sneaker. “If I ignore my conscience, I could build a really huge house with lots of bedrooms and bathrooms and use it as a rental property.” He glanced across the street at the modest bungalow that had been there since the twenties. “Of course, the neighbors would hate me and talk about me and complain to my mother, and I don’t think I could stand that.”
“Still a mama’s boy after all these years.” She gave him a half grin.
“Oh, and, Heath? Don’t put any more notes in the bottle tree. That girl who’s staying over at your house is too nosy.”
He almost grinned. “It was a stupid thing to do, anyway. I don’t know why I let you talk me into doing that. But don’t worry. I got rid of it.”
“It worked, though, didn’t it?”
“Well, that would depend. Jolene came back, but now I almost wish that she hadn’t.”
Lulu turned her head, imagining she heard the sound of the wind in a bottle. “But maybe you needed her to come back, even if it wasn’t for the reason you thought.”
His brows formed a questioning “v.” “What do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know. My bottle trees are a lot more powerful than even I ever imagined. Maggie might have had her strong beliefs, but I’ve alway
s just relied on my trees. They’ve never let me down.”
Heath watched her for a long time, mulling over her words much as he’d done with the baby cereals she’d fed him as a child. “So what are you doing here?”
Lulu craned her neck back to look up at the wide blue sky, smelling salty air. “Greeting old ghosts, I suppose.”
He looked at her oddly. “Emmy and I were just talking about ghosts, too. I told her I didn’t believe in them.”
Wiping her sandy hands off on her pants, she began walking toward the street. “It’s easy to not believe in something you can’t see, I guess.” Stopping, she put her hands on her hips and faced him. “I think ghosts will show when they’re ready to be seen. Or when they think you’re ready to see them. Sort of like this lot. You’ll know when it’s ready to tell you.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his face expressionless. “I think you need to get out of the sun, Aunt Lulu.” He winked at her. “I’ll save you a seat next to me at dinner, all right?”
She waved a hand at him dismissively. “Sure. See you tonight.” Turning her head, she chewed on her lower lip. Lulu believed with her whole heart what she’d told Heath about ghosts; knew the truth of it in the same way she knew when a hurricane hovered on the horizon. And that was what scared her. She headed down the street without glancing back, hearing again the sound of the wind crying into the necks of open bottles, afraid of what she might see if she did.
CHAPTER 14
FOLLY BEACH, SOUTH CAROLINA
August 2009
Summer weekenders had descended on the island with a vengeance, leaving no open parking spots along Center Street or the nearest surrounding blocks. Cranking up the air-conditioning, Emmy pointed the vents toward her face as she searched, realizing she’d have been better off leaving her car at the store instead of going home first to change.