by Karen White
Although she had been keeping busy, a growing worry had lodged itself in the pit of Ceecee’s stomach. She’d even called Boyd twice to make sure he remembered to call her if he heard anything from Reggie. She avoided looking at Bitty, afraid to see her worry mirrored in her friend’s eyes. Margaret could be full of brash bravado, but she would never gamble with her reputation. That was one thing Ceecee and Bitty could agree on.
It was nearly one o’clock in the morning before she and Bitty finally decided to turn in for the night. They left the front room lights on, as well as the hall bath light, and both left their doors open so they’d hear Margaret when she came in. The only peace of mind they had was an earlier phone call from Boyd to let them know that Reggie hadn’t made it home, either, leaving their friends to assume they were at least together wherever they were. Before turning off her light, Ceecee said a prayer that Margaret wouldn’t be doing anything she might regret, that last word lingering in her head long after the room was plunged into darkness.
The slamming of a car door around seven o’clock the following morning awakened Ceecee. By the time she’d slid on her robe and made it to the front room, Margaret was leaning against the closed door, a serene smile on her lips. A smile that Ceecee’s mother would have said looked like that of a cat that had drunk all the cream.
“Where have you been all night?” Ceecee asked as she led Margaret to the sofa. Bitty joined them, perching herself on Margaret’s other side.
“Everywhere,” Margaret said, her smile never fading. “We walked forever, it seems, and we talked. It was our last night together, and we had so much we wanted to say to each other.”
“That’s all you did? Walk and talk?” Bitty raised a cynical eyebrow.
Margaret’s smile became secretive. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” Bitty nudged her with her elbow. “You’ve got to do better than that. What else did you do?”
Margaret’s cheeks flushed a flattering shade of pink, and Ceecee noticed how unkempt her hair was, how her mascara and blush had been all but wiped off, and her skirt and blouse looked as if they’d been slept in.
“We went to a hotel.” She lost her smile as she sent a surreptitious glance at each of her friends.
Ceecee’s hand went to her own throat. “Oh, Margaret. A hotel?”
Margaret nodded. “It was a cheap, awful place, in a terrible part of town where Reggie was sure they wouldn’t ask any questions. But I didn’t care—I didn’t. I just wanted to be with him. Mother would have been horrified that I’d ever set foot in such a place.”
Bitty’s lips quirked up in a lopsided smile. “There’re a lot more things about this whole scenario that would upset your mother, I think.” She elbowed Margaret again. “And then what did you do?”
Ceecee wanted to shout at Bitty that it was none of her business, that she was sure Margaret had acted like a lady. But she could tell by the look on Margaret’s face that whatever had happened in that hotel room, acting like a lady had not been part of it.
Bitty placed both of her hands on Margaret’s shoulders and turned her so that they were face-to-face. “Did you . . . ?”
Margaret kept her gaze focused on her hands, folded neatly in her lap, and nodded.
Ceecee leaped from the sofa and squatted in front of her friend. “Did he ask you to marry him at least?”
“Of course he did. He asked me twice while we were walking and once after . . .” Margaret looked up, her blue eyes blazing. “He wanted to elope last night.”
“And you didn’t?” Ceecee asked, horrified. “He was ready and willing to make an honest woman of you, and you said no?”
Bitty looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. “Really, Ceecee? That’s all you can think about? Why can’t it be about Margaret making him an honest man?”
Ignoring Bitty, Ceecee grabbed Margaret’s hands and shook them. “Why did you say no?”
Margaret’s entire face and body crumpled like a used handkerchief. “Because I can’t stand the thought of him going off to fight, of him being in danger, and of me waiting every day for news. I thought I could make him change his mind if I gave him the choice. Either me or the army. I can’t . . .” She burst into tears, burying her face in Bitty’s shoulder. “I just can’t bear it.”
“And what did Reggie say?” Ceecee persisted.
Margaret spoke between sobs. “He said he loved me, but that he also loved his country, that he had big plans for our future—together. And that he thought he could do right by both of us. He said he needed some time to think, to consider his options. When he dropped me off a little while ago, I was so confident that he’d do the right thing by me, but the more I think about it, the more I think I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Ceecee was inclined to agree, but now wasn’t the time or place to mention that to Margaret. Right now, Margaret needed their support, regardless of how they felt. Sitting back down on the couch, Ceecee picked up her friend’s hand, the skin clammy and cold. “When did Reggie say he’d let you know?”
Margaret took a moment to steady her voice before answering. “He said he would go home to Charleston to see his family as planned. I do know his father’s not keen on him joining the army right now, either. He’d much rather have him take his place in the family law practice. And then he’d come up to Georgetown with Boyd to see me and meet my parents. I’m hoping we can make it an engagement party.”
“What about college?” Bitty said. “You’ve been accepted at Wellesley. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
Margaret’s eyes became cloudy, not with tears but with what Ceecee thought were dreams. “Not anymore. I’m in love, Bitty. Maybe one day you’ll know what it’s like and will understand how you’ll do anything to be with the person you love.”
“Gosh, I sure hope not,” Bitty said, snatching up her package of cigarettes from a side table and thumping one out into her hand.
Ceecee sent a harsh glance at Bitty before focusing again on Margaret. “It would be nice to have Reggie and Boyd in Georgetown together. That will make the celebration even more special—to have us all together just like we’ve been the last two weeks.”
Margaret nodded. “And I’m hoping Boyd will be able to talk some sense into Reggie.”
Ceecee sat back against the sofa, unwilling to take sides. She was proud of Boyd’s service, and she did believe being a veteran meant something about a man, about his sense of honor and duty. But she couldn’t imagine the pain of being left behind while the love of her life marched off to war—pain that countless other women had suffered since the beginning of time. Neither could she imagine using emotional bribery to keep her love by her side.
For the first time in her life, she was thankful for her strict upbringing. It helped her put herself in someone else’s shoes, to understand why Reggie felt the way he did. She’d been taught that the right choice wasn’t always the choice that would make her happiest. And that was something Margaret had never learned.
Ceecee stood, then leaned over to give her friends a giant hug. “All right, then. It’s out of our hands for the time being. Let’s get ourselves dressed, clean up the house, and get back home.”
“What will we do then?” Margaret asked.
“We’ll wait,” Ceecee said.
Margaret nodded. “You’re right, of course. Thank you. Both of you. For being here and listening without judging. It means the world to me.”
Ceecee straightened, but Margaret pulled on her hand. “Do you remember that day we put our ribbons in the tree?”
“Of course.”
“Bitty wished to be a significant artist, but we both wished for a good man we could love forever. And our wishes came true. As soon as we get home, we’ll have to put more ribbons in the tree.”
“Saying what?”
“That the three of us will always be friends. That no matter wh
at, we will stick together and be there for one another.”
Bitty frowned. “Do we need to put that in writing and stick it in the tree? Because I thought that sort of went without saying.”
Margaret sat up and took one of their hands in each of hers. “It just makes it official, that’s all. No matter what happens down the road, I want to make sure you two know how much you mean to me, and how much I rely on you, and how much I want you to rely on me.” She squeezed their hands. “Deal?”
“Deal,” Ceecee and Bitty said in unison.
Four hours later as she watched Margaret turn the key in the front door lock for the last time, Ceecee knew they weren’t leaving as the same three girls they’d been when they’d arrived. They were three women on the cusp of something grand and exciting. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t push back the dark shadow of uncertainty about life’s unpredictability. Nor could she forget her mother’s warnings about her friendship with Margaret, about how jealousy could be easily disguised as admiration.
She climbed into the front seat of the convertible, then tilted her head back to feel the sun on her face, uncaring of the inevitable freckles or the small seed of apprehension that had taken root the moment she’d said good-bye to Boyd.
seventeen
Larkin
2010
I stood on Front Street in the historic downtown district, admiring the tidiness of the neatly lined-up nineteenth-century buildings, the brightly striped awnings over storefronts, and the inviting chairs and tables sitting in front of several restaurants. The clock tower on top of the Old Market Building that contained the Rice Museum was like a well-known neighbor, as were the slanted parking spaces crawling up both sides of the street like a caterpillar.
So many cute and trendy boutiques and eateries had cropped up in my absence. Or maybe they’d always been there, but I’d never noticed. I had rarely eaten out, mostly because Ceecee loved to make my favorite comfort foods. That was probably one of the reasons why I hated to shop, too. Nothing had ever looked good on me, at least nothing stylish and trendy. After one attempt at shopping with Ceecee left me dissolving into tears in the dressing room, I relied on Ceecee to buy things and bring them home for me to try.
My mother, during her sewing phase, did attempt to make cute clothes for me. And she succeeded—except where fit was concerned. Her creations were always at least a size too small. More than once during this phase, she’d promised that if I’d stop eating Ceecee’s brownies for one month, she was sure I could wear the new yellow skirt or the adorable navy blue tunic and matching blue-and-white capris. They’d hang in my closet, unworn, a challenge as much as a spotlight on my failure. Not that I saw it as a failure then—it took several counseling sessions after I’d moved to New York to understand that I didn’t see the need to change at all, because I’d been made to believe that I was perfect.
I did a mental eenie-meenie-minie-moe and picked a shop called Miss Lizzie’s with women’s clothing in the window that looked like it was meant for my age group. Even though it was easier now to find clothes that fit, I was still uncomfortable with the whole process. I’d compromised on a completely black wardrobe for my New York professional life, loose and comfy long tunics and soft pants, the occasional knit dress—always worn under a baggy sweater—and even a pair of black capris for when the weather turned hot.
Before I’d left for the hospital that morning to visit my mother, I had made the mistake of asking Ceecee which black knit ensemble would work for my date with Jackson that evening, and was given the quick and firm answer of absolutely none of them. After assuring her that her time was better spent visiting my mother in the hospital than shopping with me, she’d left, allowing me another hour to keep trying to come up with an outfit. And all for a man for whom my feelings ricocheted between adolescent hormonal urges and the stark reality of maturity telling me that I was too smart to still be infatuated with him. The man he was now still housed the boy he’d been, and whether or not he remembered him, it wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
I was halfway across the broad sidewalk when I heard my name and turned to see Mabry, still wearing her scrubs from work and holding the grubby hand of a smiling and ice-cream-coated Ellis. The little boy smiled brightly at me through sticky lips.
“Hi,” he said with Bennett’s smile, and my heart melted a bit.
“Hello, Ellis. It’s nice to see you again.”
Mabry gave me a look of reproach. “We thought we’d have seen you since the last time. Guess you’ve been busy.”
She kept her eyes innocent, but I knew she must have heard about the sunrise trip through the marsh with Bennett.
“Pretty much.” I didn’t tell her that my boss had said I could work remotely for two more weeks if I needed additional time at home. If it got out that I didn’t have to rush back, I’d be forced to stay longer. The thought of remaining scared me. Like I’d start shedding my new, shiny skin I’d worked so hard to achieve, revealing the scarred and ugly person beneath.
“You going shopping?” Mabry asked with excitement, her eyes widening.
“Yes, actually. I’ve heard it’s something people do.”
She slapped my shoulder as if we were still twelve. “Good one. But really, I’ve heard they have serious shopping in New York. Can’t imagine we have something here that you can’t find there.”
I sighed, knowing she’d get it out of me sooner or later. “Date-night clothes. I have absolutely nothing to wear tonight for dinner with Jackson.”
“May I suggest something with lots of buttons and layers? And maybe a chastity belt?” I stilled, unable to look away from her reddening face. “Oh, gosh—I didn’t mean it like that, Larkin. Promise. I’m so sorry.”
“Larkin!” I looked behind Mabry and saw her mother, Carol Anne, walking toward us and juggling an armful of shopping bags. “Oh, my, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” Before I could say anything, I found myself enveloped in a cloud of Trésor perfume, Carol Anne’s signature scent. She had the same hairstyle she’d had since 1988, a dark brown cap of chin-length hair, curled under neatly at her jawbone, and sideswept bangs. I found it comforting, as if this woman and her hairstyle were a reminder that the best things in life were the things that never changed.
She kissed me loudly on the cheek, then held me at arm’s length to better examine me—something I was becoming used to. “I’m just heartbroken about your mama—I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling. I’ve been going to see her as often as I can and talking with her and reading People magazine.” She frowned, her face serious. “I’ve been Googling comas, and I’ve learned that people in comas can hear everything and the best thing is to keep talking to them, and read to them. And the music-speaker-box thing you put in her room was brilliant, Larkin. But we always knew you were smart.”
She beamed at me and took a couple of steps back. “You’ve always been a stunner, Larkin, but you’ve really blossomed.” She faced Mabry. “Hasn’t she?”
“She certainly has,” Mabry said enthusiastically. “And she has a date tonight, and we’re going shopping to find an outfit for her. Could you take Ellis home with you for a little while?”
“A date?” Carol Anne’s eyebrows rose to perfect half circles. “With Ben . . .”
“With Jackson Porter,” Mabry quickly interjected.
Carol Anne took a step back, a confused look on her face. “Jackson? Is that the same Jackson . . . ?”
“So, will you, Mama?” Mabry gave Ellis a hug and a big kiss on the cheek before steering him toward her mother.
“Of course,” Carol Anne said, distracted by Ellis tugging on her hand and making the shopping bags bounce. She looked down at her grandson and smiled. “Maybe we’ll make cookies. Does that sound like a good plan?”
“Cookies!” Ellis shouted, jumping up and down as if on a pogo stick.
“Because he
sure needs more sugar,” I said wryly, glad to have everyone’s attention diverted.
Carol Anne squeezed my hand. “It’s so good seeing you, Larkin. I’m guessing Bennett forgot to extend my invitation to supper, because we haven’t seen you, but please know you have an open invitation to stop by anytime. I’d love to talk about your new life in New York, and I can show you all the articles I’ve printed out about comas.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Lynch. I don’t know if I’ll be able to—I’m at the hospital a lot—but I promise to try.”
“You be sure and do that. It’ll be just like old times with you at our kitchen table.” She tugged on Ellis’s hand and waved it like he was a string puppet, causing him to giggle.
They began to walk away, but I called them back. “One quick question, if you don’t mind. Did Mama ever mention Carrowmore to you?”
Carol Anne shook her head. “No, dear. We never talked about it. Not even as girls. I remember stories about how it was haunted. But I knew Ivy’s mama died there in a fire, so I never brought it up. And Ivy, well, you can imagine why she wouldn’t want to talk about it.” She leaned toward me. “We’ve always been the best of friends, but I suppose there are some things we keep to ourselves. Maybe we believe deep down that sharing the darkest parts of ourselves makes them more real. Kept to ourselves, well, then we can just pretend they were a bad dream.”
I nodded, then said good-bye again, and I stared after them, deep in thought over what she’d said.
“You ready?” Mabry asked, jerking her head in the direction of the boutique.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. I hope they have what I need, because I’m not in the mood to go to multiple stores to find a single outfit.”
“This is a great store,” Mabry said, holding the door open for me. “They have terrific belts, too.”
I glanced at her and she winked, and I knew everything was okay between us again.