by Karen White
“Because he wants to see you, and he thinks you’ve been avoiding him.” Ceecee headed for the kitchen to retrieve the coffeepot. She must have missed the knock on the front door because of Bitty’s coughing, but Mack tapped on the door frame of the dining room to let them know he was there. After a brief hesitation, he approached Larkin and kissed the top of her head before retreating to the chair opposite his daughter’s and sitting down.
“Looks like you got some sun,” he said, smiling at Larkin.
“Bennett took me out in his johnboat this morning. He remembered how much I loved the sunrises.”
Mack raised his eyebrows, an unspoken question. Ignoring him, Larkin reached for the eggs and handed the platter to Bitty. “Would you like some?”
They made small talk while everyone served themselves. Ceecee watched as Larkin placed food on her plate, then poured herself a cup of coffee. Sipping it carefully, Larkin looked over the brim. “Bennett said somebody’s been taking care of the martin houses at Carrowmore. It wasn’t Mama, because he found some fresh twine and things after Mama went into the hospital. Considering how abandoned the whole place is, we thought it was strange.”
Ceecee’s expression didn’t change. “It wasn’t me. And until we found Ivy there, I didn’t think anybody had been there for years. Have you asked Carol Anne?”
Larkin shook her head. “No, but Bennett said he’d ask—although I sincerely doubt it’s her. It’s just . . . odd.”
Ceecee leaned back in her chair. “Maybe not. There’s a legend about the martins and Carrowmore. That as long as there are martins living on the grounds, there will always be a Carrowmore.”
“Like the ravens at the Tower of London?” Mack asked, spearing a slice of bacon from the platter.
“Exactly. I’m guessing someone who knows the legend has been tending them. I’d like to know who—so I can thank them at least.”
Bitty began another coughing fit and pushed her chair from the table. “Excuse . . . me . . . ,” she managed, backing out of the room but not before picking up her cigarettes and lighter.
“You’re going outside for a smoke?” Ceecee asked indignantly.
“You won’t . . . let me smoke . . . inside,” Bitty said from the doorway.
“You need to go to the doctor,” Larkin said, her face full of concern.
Bitty finished with another coughing spasm, then said, “He’ll just say that I should quit smoking, and I already know that. This way, I save myself the money and the aggravation.” She left the room then, heading toward the back door, the sound of her coughing trailing in her wake.
They were silent for a moment while Larkin took a small bite of eggs from her plate and chewed thoughtfully. “Why do you think Mama had this sudden interest in the trust and the insurance money?”
Ceecee fought hard to keep her face calm, to lift her fork to her mouth and chew, but the food might as well have been cardboard for all she tasted. “I don’t know. I didn’t realize she remembered Carrowmore at all. I hadn’t taken her there since she was a little girl. I thought she’d forgotten all about it until you were born and she decided to set up a trust for you.”
Mack placed his hands carefully on each side of his plate, and Ceecee noticed he wore his gold wedding band, something he hadn’t done in a long time. “Bennett and I were thinking it’s because of the developers who are showing interest in the property, and she was trying to establish its value for Larkin’s benefit.”
Ceecee slowly placed her fork on her plate, trying to come up with the right words. “I spoke with the developers once but only because they approached me, and only to hear what they had to say. Ivy must have found out that I had, but she never came to talk to me about it.”
“Then why?” Larkin asked. “And it wasn’t spur-of-the-moment, either. Jackson told me she recently came to see him about the insurance payout.”
“She did?” Ceecee asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee and spilling most of it in her saucer.
“According to Jackson.”
“Did he think she seemed upset?”
“No—he didn’t mention it,” Larkin said. “So, you have no idea what all that was about?”
“Not at all. But you know how your mother is. Always looking for something that might distract her into thinking she’s happy. For all we know, she wants Carrowmore to be turned into an artists’ colony, and she thought you would be more likely to agree to it than I would.”
Larkin frowned. “I doubt it. This really makes no sense. I guess it’s just another thing I need to ask her about when she wakes up.”
Ceecee shared a glance with Mack, then reached over and squeezed Larkin’s hand. “You’re right, baby. We’ll just have to wait and ask.”
After the breakfast dishes were cleared away, and Mack had gone to the hospital and Larkin on her run, Ceecee carried two cups of coffee out onto the porch for her and Bitty. Placing a cup on the coffee table, Ceecee moved away the cigarettes and lighter, ignoring her friend’s protests.
She sat down across from Bitty, sipping her coffee. “I know you heard every word—you left the door open on purpose. What do you think was in Ivy’s head?”
“You’re her mother, so you know her best,” Bitty said with innocent eyes. “At least that’s what you’re always reminding me.” She regarded her friend for a moment. “I wonder if it has anything to do with the ribbon she had in her hands when they brought her to the hospital. It said something about Margaret.”
“‘I know about Margaret.’ That’s what it said.” Ceecee stared at the dark coffee in her cup. “Ivy’s always known her mother died in that fire. I can’t imagine what else she thinks she knows.”
Bitty stared at her, unblinking. “Besides the obvious?” She started to laugh, but it came out more like a bark. “If she knows, she didn’t find out from me, and if you didn’t tell her, then it’s impossible. We should tell her, though, when she wakes up. Not that it will make any difference, of course.”
Ceecee took a gulp of her coffee, scalding her tongue. “I’ve only wanted the best for Ivy—you know that. To protect her from all the hurts life can throw at you. But somehow, I failed. Except for when she was with Ellis and after Larkin was born, I’ve never seen her truly happy.”
Unexpectedly, Bitty reached over and squeezed her hand. “I don’t think Margaret could have done any different, if that makes you feel better. And I think she would have approved of the choices you’ve made.”
“But do you think she would have forgiven me?” Ceecee hadn’t meant to say that, to blurt out those words she’d never spoken out loud before.
“For what?” Bitty asked, her brown eyes still as dark and probing as they’d been when they were girls.
Ceecee looked away, wanting to ask Bitty about her coughing or anything other than her question. She lifted her chin and met her friend’s gaze. “For not saving her.”
Bitty squeezed her hand again, then stood, her coffee untouched. “But you saved her baby, and for that I know she’d be grateful. I hope you know that.”
Ceecee nodded without looking up, something thick and unrelenting blocking her throat.
Bitty grabbed her cigarettes and lighter. “I’m headed to the hospital. I expect I’ll see you there at some point.”
Ceecee nodded slowly. “She’s still there, you know. Our Ivy. She’s lying there without moving or speaking, but I can tell she’s there. And she’s listening, and I know she’s trying to communicate. I just don’t know how I’m supposed to hear her. It’s like when she was a little girl and having her nightmares, and there was nothing I could do to help her.”
“She’ll need your help when she wakes up. She’ll need all of us. And we’ll be there for her.”
“But what if she doesn’t?” Ceecee forced the words out, her voice barely audible so that only her oldest friend could hear her unacceptable doubt.
&n
bsp; “She will,” Bitty said with conviction. “She’s a Darlington. Remember what Margaret used to tell us? Something about Darlingtons setting the sun and the moon in the sky so that light always shone upon them. There’s been an eclipse for a long time, but it’s about to be over. I can feel it.”
Ceecee sat up and straightened her shoulders, taking in Bitty’s wide gauzy pants and worn leather sandals, a hundred paint flecks giving them color. It made her realize how much of Bitty was in Ivy, too. How both Ceecee and Bitty had honored their friend by being the best mothers to Margaret’s daughter that they knew how. But if Ceecee had learned anything in the intervening years since Margaret’s death, it was that a thousand good intentions could never tip the scale over one unforgivable mistake.
“I hope you’re right,” Ceecee said. “Because I don’t know how I’ll survive if something happens to Ivy.”
Bitty gripped her box of cigarettes tightly, the sound of crumpled cardboard overruling the whirring of a cicada in a magnolia at the edge of the garden. “You’ll survive, Ceecee. All the love you keep inside your heart holds you up and forces you to go on. It’s how you’ve always made it through, and I can’t see it deserting you now.”
Bitty made to leave, but Ceecee called out to her. “What about you? What makes you keep moving forward when things are so dark?”
Bitty looked down at her crumpled cigarettes as if just realizing what she was holding. “Regret,” she said, her voice raspy.
“Regret? Regret for what?”
Bitty met Ceecee’s gaze. “For a lot of things. Mostly for not being strong enough to tell Margaret no when that’s what she needed to hear.” She turned and left without waiting for a response, her hacking cough eventually cut off by the slamming of her car door.
Ceecee picked up her coffee cup and took a sip, not caring that it had grown cool. She needed something to hold on to, something to keep her hands steady. She thought about what Bitty had said about the Darlingtons and the moon and the sun. Ceecee took another sip, then closed her eyes and remembered.
* * *
• • •
Ceecee
1951
The last notes of “Let It Roll Again” drifted out on the dance floor as the couples, sweating and laughing, collapsed onto one another and slowly made their way to the stairs leading down from the top floor of the Pavilion. After two weeks of being together every day, it was their last night in Myrtle Beach, and Ceecee found herself clinging tighter to Boyd’s arm as he led her outside into the cooler air.
“I wish we didn’t have to leave,” she said, embarrassingly close to tears. “I don’t know how I can face tomorrow without seeing you.”
He lifted her chin with his finger. “We’ll be together again soon,” he said, sealing the deal with a gentle kiss on her lips. “We’ve already talked about this, Sessalee. I just need a week to go home for a bit, and see my parents, and talk to them about my plans.”
“Which include moving to Georgetown.” Ceecee didn’t make it a question because she simply couldn’t imagine it any other way.
He smiled indulgently. “I’ve already sent a letter to Dr. Griffith and have asked my supervising doctor who oversaw my internship to forward a letter of recommendation to him. I expect a reply to be waiting for me when I get home to Charleston.”
Ceecee felt so giddy, she wanted to jump up and down, but she didn’t want to appear childish. Boyd was older than she was, had been to war and graduated from medical school. She needed to give at least the outer appearance of being wiser than her years. “I know Mr. Darlington will say wonderful things about you, too. They’re old family friends. All the more reason for you to hurry and come to Georgetown.”
He smiled, and for a moment Ceecee thought she might be drowning on dry land, because when he smiled like that, she found it difficult to breathe. “Anything for you, darling. I hope I’ll have the opportunity to meet your parents while I’m there as well.”
She had to grab both of his arms so she wouldn’t swoon. “I’d like that very much.”
“And if you really get lonely, I think you’ve taken about a thousand photographs with that camera of yours—hopefully there’s one or two of me for you to look at.”
He grinned, making her lean up and kiss him again. “One or two, I’m sure.” Sobering, she said, “I have a huge favor to ask of you.”
He pulled her close. “Anything, darling. Just ask.”
“It’s not for me—it’s for Margaret. You’re driving to Charleston with Reggie tomorrow, and I’d like to ask you to use the time to try to talk Reggie out of joining the army. I know what you said before, but I promised Margaret that I would ask you to at least try.”
His beautiful eyes met hers. “I don’t think I can convince him, and I’m not sure if it’s even my place to try, but I’ll do anything to make you happy.”
“Oh, my dearest darling.” She stood on her toes so her lips could meet his. “I do love you so much, you know.” She bit her lip, unsure if she should have been so outspoken, to have said such a thing before he’d said it first. Margaret had taught her and Bitty never to be the first to say it.
His face became very serious, and Ceecee stood back hard on her heels. “I’m very glad to hear that,” he said, his gaze locked with hers. “Because I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you at the gas station. There was something about the way you walked, and the sweet smile on your face, and your gorgeous mouth with that red lipstick. I remembered thinking to myself that I’d met the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. What do you think of that?”
She threw her arms around his neck, not caring who saw, and kissed him long and hard on the mouth.
“What would your mother say?” came a familiar voice behind them.
As if waking up from a long nap, Ceecee cleared her head to look at Bitty, who was offering them each a Tootsie Roll from her bag. “These will give you something else to do with your mouths that won’t shock little children.” Her voice was stern, but she was smiling.
“Where’s Margaret?” Ceecee asked, looking around at the people still exiting the Pavilion.
“She told me to tell you two that she and Reggie would meet you at the movie theater—the movie she wants to see is playing at the Gloria right across the street from here. Margaret was hungry, so she and Reggie were grabbing a bite to eat and asked that you save them a seat.”
Ceecee frowned. “I hope they’re not too late—it was her idea to see the movie. I don’t know anything about it.”
Bitty lit a cigarette and took a long draw. “It’s called Night Train to Berlin. I think it was directed by a friend of Margaret’s uncle—a Carroll Goring. It’s based on Robert Langford’s latest novel.” She blew out a puff of smoke before regarding Ceecee with a half smile. “Which you should read instead of the latest edition of Vogue.”
Bitty was in a fractious mood, most likely because, even though she’d spent the evening dancing with different partners, none of them had been “keepers,” as Bitty put it. Too old, too young, too fat, too skinny. Too many freckles, not enough freckles. That sort of thing. Margaret had whispered to Ceecee that it was really because Bitty was so much smarter than the average man that it would take someone with more than a stellar ability to dance to impress her and make it worth her while to spend time with him.
“Fine.” Feeling magnanimous, Ceecee slipped between Boyd and Bitty and placed a hand in the crook of their elbows. “We’ll just go to the movie theater and save them seats. And if they don’t show, we’ll tell them how it ended and ruin it for them.”
Boyd laughed, placing his hand over hers, and left it there while they walked to the theater.
Two hours later, there was still no sign of Margaret or Reggie. They waited outside the theater for another fifteen minutes, and when they still hadn’t shown up, Boyd reassured her and Bitty that Margaret was i
n good hands and that he would drive them home.
The three of them sat in the front seat, with Ceecee in the middle. “Make sure you leave room for the Holy Ghost,” Bitty said, indicating the lack of a space between Ceecee and Boyd. “Isn’t that what your father would say?”
Ceecee slapped her friend lightly on the arm, then moved even closer to Boyd.
They’d expected the lights to be on in the house when they returned, but it sat dark and empty, only the moonlight guiding their way up the white brick walkway. Ceecee walked through the house, flipping on lights and calling Margaret’s name, Boyd right beside her.
When they’d made the rounds of the small house, Boyd touched her elbow. “Don’t worry, all right? I’m sure they’ve just lost track of time and she’ll show up any minute. They’ve got a lot to talk about.”
Ceecee nodded, not completely able to get rid of her uneasiness. “Will you call me if you get back and Reggie is there?”
“Of course. And you let me know when Margaret shows up. No matter how late.”
He kissed her on the forehead, aware of Bitty watching, then headed toward the door. He turned around once and winked at her. “And I’ll see you in Georgetown as soon as I can make it.”
Unable to bear the thought of not kissing him in a proper good-bye, Ceecee raced across the room and threw herself at him, making sure he was aware of just how much she would miss him. He let her go, and she slowly backed away across the room, then mouthed, I love you.
Bitty rolled her eyes and looked away in time for Boyd to say it, too, before closing the door behind him.
Ceecee and Bitty got ready for bed, Ceecee taking the time to press her skirt and blouse, knowing her mother would notice if she was unkempt in any way, and then pin-rolled her hair before slipping on the sleeping cap her mother had packed for her, but which she hadn’t put on once. She’d have to be careful that her mother didn’t see her in a state of undress, because her suntan carried the damning evidence of the two-piece bathing suit Margaret had let her wear. It was modest for a two-piece, but her mother would probably have a heart attack if she knew that Ceecee had bared her midriff for everyone to see.