The Beach Trees

by Karen White

  Trey and I avoided looking at each other, so I couldn’t determine who was more embarrassed. I looked around me at the eager faces and at the bright newness of the nearby houses standing proudly on their pilings and found I could no longer think of the people who lived here and rebuilt as shortsighted or egotistical. They were mothers and daughters and sons and fathers; they were families regaining so much more than furniture and clothing and old photographs. The word that came to me now was “defiant.” Because a person had to be defiant to be able to stand amid the wreckage of her life and instead of shaking a fist, pick up a hammer.

  We said our good-byes and headed back to the truck. As we merged onto the interstate, I remembered Monica’s photo album. I’d stuck in my purse. I pulled it out and handed it to Aimee in the front seat. “You asked to see this, so I brought it with me. I haven’t had a chance to find out which photographs I can salvage, so I hoped that maybe you could pick out your favorites and I’d start with those. I’d like to have a scrapbook ready for Beau’s birthday.”

  She took the album from my hand. “Thank you, Julie. I’ll see if I can easily pry any loose while I’m at it.” She immediately bent over the photographs, pausing at each page as she brought the album close to her face to see the photos better. I watched as she carefully slid a finger into one of the plastic slots and began to slide it back and forth.

  “Julie? Why didn’t we have any snow this winter?”

  Beau’s questions distracted me for the rest of the ride, so I forgot all about the album and was surprised when Trey stopped the van. He dropped off Aimee, Beau, and me as close as he could get us to Howard Avenue while he went to park the truck in the driveway of my little house. Aimee seemed unusually subdued, although she insisted she felt fine and was looking forward to the parade. I wondered if seeing the photographs of Monica had made her nostalgic, and I hoped I’d done the right thing by showing the album to her.

  Crowds of people lined the parade route. I saw a lot of children, a lot of painted faces, and most everybody wore all three Mardi Gras colors. I’d never thought that purple, gold, and green went together, but now I couldn’t seem to imagine one without the others.

  We passed through a family dressed up as the TV Simpsons, and almost tripped on three dogs appropriately decked out in Carnival gear, including feathered masks perched over their ears.

  We let ourselves into the back door of Walker’s dental office, then up the stairs to a space used for storage. Boxes were stacked against one wall of the room, clearing out a wide expanse of carpeted floor in the middle. A temporary bar had been set up on the other end of the room, with large tubs filled with water bottles, juice boxes, and soft drinks for the younger set, and a keg and a cooler with wine for the adults. Music blared from an old-fashioned portable radio sitting on a card table, a babble of voices coming from the wide balcony that stretched across the entire front of the building.

  Aimee walked over to greet Carol Sue’s parents as Carol Sue and Charlie came over to say hello, bringing with them an older couple. “Julie, I’ve been dying for you to meet Sandra and Ted Davis. Their house stood about two blocks from River Song and looked pretty much as bad after Katrina except that they didn’t even have any trees left. They’ve been watching what you and Trey are doing to your house and you’ve inspired them to rebuild.”

  I wanted to shake my head, to hold my hand up in protest, to tell them that it wasn’t “my” house, but stopped. I thought again about Carmen LeBlanc and her hope and excitement, of her defiance of accepting the way things were, her courage to change them. I looked into the open faces of the Davises and saw the same thing I’d seen on Carmen’s, and Carol Sue’s, and all the other people I’d met since coming here. It was the familiar look of those searching for what they had lost, searching for their place in this world that settled in their bones like an old friend. It was a look I remembered seeing on Monica’s face from the first moment I met her.

  “Thank you,” I said instead. “Although I can’t really take any credit for it.” I took a deep breath. “It was all Monica’s inspiration.”

  Trey approached with a steaming Styrofoam bowl of what looked like chunky soup and rice and handed it to me with a plastic spoon. “And shortsightedness, don’t forget.”

  I blushed, remembering what I’d said to him the first time he’d brought me to Biloxi. I didn’t reply, suddenly unsure of what my answer should be. I looked down at the bowl he’d handed me. “What’s this?”

  “Gumbo. Another neighbor here, Susan Sands, makes her special gumbo every year for Walker’s Mardi Gras party.” He indicated a petite blonde with perfect teeth. “Her husband’s a partner in Walker’s dental practice.”

  I took a bite and closed my eyes to really appreciate the mix of flavors, including something so spicy it made my sinuses tingle. “This is wonderful. I’ll have to get her recipe.”

  “Luckily, she’s got a good memory. Lost all her recipes in the flooding after Katrina. Not that it stopped her from making her gumbo from her FEMA trailer for the 2006 parade.” He lifted his beer bottle in salute in Susan’s direction.

  I took another bite. “I’m glad. This would be a shame to be forgotten.”

  “Julie! Come look!”

  I turned my attention to Charlie and Beau, who were standing out on the balcony with Walker and Aimee and several more adults. I made my way to stand behind them and looked over the railing to see a line of floats slowly careening their way down Howard Avenue. As the floats passed, the crowd reached up their hands as goodies were tossed at them, the rising motion like a giant wave.

  “There are so many floats! I didn’t think it would be this big.”

  Trey came to stand behind me. “We’re about at the pre-Katrina number of floats now—twenty-something, I think. Half of them were destroyed by the storm. The guy who makes them got busy right away, saying he couldn’t stand to watch a parade full of floats he didn’t make.” He took a draw from his beer. “The number of spectators is still down, but growing every year. If you parade a bunch of floats and promise to throw stuff at people, they will come.”

  Trey took my empty bowl and disappeared for a moment before returning to hand me a beer and juice boxes to Charlie and Beau. Two stools had been set in front of the balcony railing for the children, high enough for them to see over, but not high enough that they could fall, although I kept checking to make sure. They were waving their juice boxes at the floats, watching as the throngs of bystanders below us reached up with open hands as cups, beads, and leis were tossed into the crowd.

  Beau faced me. “Why’s everything in purple, gold, and green? I don’t even like purple.”

  I remembered asking Monica the same question and recited her answer verbatim. “Purple for royalty, gold for power, green for faith. Seeing how Mardi Gras is all about royalty, with kings and queens and their courts, and that tomorrow marks the forty days before Easter, it kind of makes sense, don’t you think?”

  He thought for a moment. “I guess purple’s okay.”

  I hid a smile as Beau turned back to the parade, a frown on his face.

  In a lowered voice, I asked Trey, “Are there any tricks to getting the good stuff—like the T-shirts and stuffed animals?”

  A wide grin split his face before he answered, making me fairly confident I’d asked a pro. “Getting the good throws takes cunning, speed, and fine motor skills. Doesn’t hurt to be tall, but in my experience”—he glanced over at Charlie and Beau—“some of the most vicious throw-catchers are small, innocent-looking children who use their size and agility to outmaneuver us older, more sedentary paradegoers.”

  I looked at a frowning Beau, anticipating his next question. “How are we going to get any goodies thrown to us up here? They’re never going to see us.”

  “You have to be real obvious. Lean over a bit and shout, ‘Throw me something, mister.’ ”

  Walker stood behind us and nudged Trey with his elbow. “In New Orleans, the ladies have a spe
cial way of getting a bunch of the good loot, but this is a family-friendly parade.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  Trey and Walker shared a look. Clearing his throat, Trey said, “Let’s just say that even though we would probably appreciate the view, let’s keep your shirt tucked in, all right?”

  I stared at him. “They don’t really...”

  “They do,” Walker and Trey said in unison, before they both took long sips from their beer bottles so they wouldn’t have to say any more.

  With a quick glance at Beau and Charlie to make sure they weren’t jumping too high on their stools, I peered over the balcony, where the red-and-white uniforms of the Biloxi High School marching band paraded past, their banner proudly displaying their Indian chief mascot. Girls holding flags strutted in front of the band members, a jaunty rendition of “When the Saints Go Marching In” blaring from shiny trombones, trumpets, and tubas.

  I stretched my neck to see what came behind them and spotted a large float in the shape of a dune buggy painted in the three Mardi Gras colors, with a huge banner on the back proclaiming the rider the grand marshal. Huge tricolored flags fluttered from the back of the float, every edge outlined in sparkling purple, green, or gold streamers. An older woman and man wearing black T-shirts sat on high seats toward the front, their arms draped in beads that they’d pull one by one to toss into the crowd.

  I watched as the man leaned forward into a box at his feet and pulled out two necklaces with large, pearly beads. They were moving slowly under our balcony, completely oblivious to the two children above them.

  Standing on the bottom rung of the railing, something I’d explicitly instructed the children not to do, I leaned over as far as I could and screamed, “Throw me something, mister!”

  The man looked up at me and I pointed at the two children. He nodded briefly, then drew back his arm and threw the two necklaces up in the air toward us. I saw both children reaching through the railing, their arms too short to catch them. Without thinking, I leaned over and grabbed both necklaces as they’d begun their descent, feeling strong arms around my hips holding me on the balcony.

  I stepped back, holding up my prizes. “I got them!”

  Trey’s face was very close to mine. “I’m glad. Because I’d hate to see you fall to your death for nothing.”

  “Me, too,” I said quietly before stepping away to give the children their necklaces, thankful I’d caught both of them so I wouldn’t have to do that again.

  My cell phone buzzed from the back pocket of my jeans. I pulled it out and looked at the screen to see who was calling. The noise of the crowds and the people near me on the balcony shrank to a pinpoint of sound, the bright sun outside suddenly dimming as I stared at the familiar number.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I heard Trey’s voice in the vacuum of sound and turned toward it. “Can you watch the children? I need to take this.”

  He nodded and I quickly made my way to the stairs. I closed the door behind me and sat on the top step before flipping open the phone. “Hello?”

  “Julie, hello. It’s Detective Kobylt.”

  “I know.” My voice sounded strange to my ears. Calm, normal. “What’s up?” For a brief moment, I thought that maybe he was calling me to tell me that his daughter had given birth to his first grandchild.

  “I have some news for you.”

  The sounds from the party and parade had burst to life again behind the closed door. Of all the times I’d imagined this phone call, this scenario had never crossed my mind.

  “I’m listening,” I said, my voice sounding like it belonged to somebody else. I remembered my visit to the palm reader and my hand began to shake. You are close to finding what you seek.

  “We’ve found something.”

  I paused. “A body?”

  “We’ve found remains of what preliminary reports are telling us is a young girl between the ages of nine and fifteen. It’s only skeletal remains, and we’re thinking they’ve been in the ground for a long time.”

  “Seventeen years?” I asked, my voice slightly more than a whisper.

  “It could be. It’s still too early to know for sure, but it looks about right.”

  “Where did you find ... her?” I couldn’t call the loose scattering of bones I imagined by any name. They were only bones.

  “Look, Julie, I don’t want to tell you all of this on the phone. This is hard for you, I know.”

  “It’s all right, Detective. I know that if I lived closer, you would be at my front door right now. But I need to know. I need you to tell me everything that you’ve found.”

  I heard him swallow into the phone. “At Oakham State Forest—about twenty-five miles from your parents’ house. We’ve had a lot of washout lately because of all the rain, and a woman walking her dog found a bone.”

  No, no, no, no. No, Chelsea. Not alone like that, in the middle of the woods. She would have been so scared. I pushed the panic down, forcing my voice to remain normal. “Anything else that might identify the body?”

  “That’s why I’m calling you. I was wondering if you could fly up here. There’re fabric samples that were salvageable but not immediately recognizable as anything your sister might have been wearing, as well as a few other items. I was hoping if you saw them up close, instead of a picture, you might have a better chance of identifying some of it.”

  “What about dental records? You have Chelsea’s, right?”

  There was a long pause. “The skull wasn’t found with the body. It could have been removed prior to burial, or animal scavengers could have gone at it at some point; there’s no way of knowing. I’m sorry, Julie, but you’re pretty much our last hope at identifying these remains. We’re trying to see if there is any trace DNA on anything, but time and the elements have pretty much made that impossible.”

  I didn’t hesitate. “I’ll come. I’ll take the first flight I can get and will call and let you know. It might not be until tomorrow morning.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll pick you up at the airport if you need me to.”

  “Thank you.” I said good-bye, then closed the phone and shut my eyes, waiting for tears that wouldn’t come.

  I didn’t know how long I’d sat there until I felt the door open behind me. Trey sat on the step next to me. “Is anything wrong? I was starting to get worried that you’d developed a sudden aversion to parades or something. And Beau caught a plastic cup that he’s eager to show you.”

  Looking at him, I said, “I need to go to Massachusetts. They think they’ve found Chelsea.” My voice was matter-of-fact, but my hand was shaking so badly that I dropped my phone.

  Trey picked it up and placed it on the step behind us, then put both of my hands between his, steadying them. “I’ll come with you.”

  It wasn’t a question and I was glad: glad that I didn’t have to fall apart with the gratitude I felt in knowing I wouldn’t have to make this trip alone. “Thank you,” was all I could manage.

  We found Carol Sue and explained the situation to her, and without asking she took charge of Beau and told me not to worry about anything, that everything would be taken care of here.

  I found a subdued Aimee sitting by herself on a folding chair on the balcony, her legs crossed neatly at the ankles, her hands in her lap, facing the parade but not appearing to see it. Her eyes seemed focused somewhere else, as if all the noise and colors right below her didn’t exist.

  “Miss Aimee?”

  She blinked, then looked at me for a long moment until she seemed to recognize me.

  “Are you all right?”

  With a brittle smile, she said, “Of course. It’s Mardi Gras. I’ve always loved the parades.”

  “Are you sure? Is it too warm out here for you?”

  She shook her head. “No, dear. Everything is fine.”

  I sat down in an empty chair next to her. “I have to fly to Massachusetts—they’ve found remains that might be my sister’s. Trey’s going to
come with me, but Carol Sue will take you to her parents’ and then drive you home tomorrow, if that’s all right.”

  Aimee touched my shoulder, her eyes warm but distant. “You go. Don’t worry about me, or Beau. You do what you need to do. We’ll be here when you get back.”

  “Thank you.” I bent to kiss her cheek, then stood, but she held on to my hand.

  “You’re stronger than you think, Julie. This will be hard, whatever the answer, but you’ll handle it. You always have.”

  I tried to smile. “I wish I could believe that.”

  We said good-bye; then Carol Sue gave me an extra-tight hug. “Call me as soon as you know anything. Anytime, day or night. I’ll answer on the first ring.”

  I hugged her back, unable to trust my voice with words.

  Trey and I said good-bye to Beau, then walked silently through the dissipating crowds, kicking discarded wrappers and cans left behind by the spectators, and I resisted the impulse to pick up dropped beads, no longer sure why I’d ever wanted to collect things.

  Climbing into the passenger seat, I spotted the photo album that I’d given to Aimee. When I picked it up to move it so I could sit, two loose photographs, ones I imagined Aimee had managed to pry loose from the album sleeves, slipped out.

  I recognized the first photograph, one of Monica doing a cartwheel on the beach, but I realized that I hadn’t seen the second. It had something stuck around the edges, as if it had been adhered to the back of the first photograph and Aimee had managed to pry them apart.

  Settling into the seat, I placed the photographs on my lap and reached for the shoulder strap of my seat belt. It snapped back suddenly, but I barely noticed the loud clank it made as the buckle hit the inside of the car by my head. I was too intent on looking at the photograph Aimee had found, a photograph of an older Monica taking a picture of herself in the hall mirror I recognized from the foyer in the First Street house.