Dreams of Falling

by Karen White

  Gooseflesh pricked her spine, as if an unseen breath had been blown against the back of her neck.

  Without turning around, she said, “Don’t ever say that again, Boyd. Not ever. For Ivy’s sake, if nothing else. Wishes and dreams aren’t real, no matter how much we’d like them to be. I made the mistake of once believing they were. I won’t make that mistake again.”

  He moved to stand behind her, his hands on her shoulders, and she felt his lips on the top of her head. “Just tell me one more time that you love me, and it will be enough for the rest of my life. I’ll be able to face it if I only know you love me.”

  A strong breeze pushed at the martin houses strung from the old oak tree below. Watching them, Ceecee remembered the story Margaret had told her long ago, about how the small birds relied on others to make their homes for them. It made sense to her now, knowing that so much of life was reliant on things outside of oneself, how the whims of others dictated people’s hearts and lives. How dreams and wishes were just so much dust when held against the will of another human being.

  Ivy whimpered, and Ceecee realized she’d been holding her too tightly, using the small body to anchor her where she stood. Ceecee cupped her hand around the tiny head, transferring all the love she possessed with a promise to protect her always and forgetting, for a brief moment, that promises weren’t meant to last.

  Looking out the window, she said, “I don’t love you, Boyd. You are my friend’s husband, and the father of a baby I will always love as if she were my own. But I don’t love you.” She’d said it twice, as if that might somehow give credence to the lie.

  A cough came from the doorway. Boyd’s hands dropped from her shoulders as she turned and saw Bitty. From her expression, Ceecee knew that she’d heard most if not all of her conversation with Boyd. “If the baby’s finished eating, your mama thinks Margaret should spend some time holding her.”

  She looked at Bitty with alarm. “But she’s settled now, and sleeping.”

  “I know,” Bitty said gently. “But she’s Margaret’s baby. They’ll need to get to know each other.”

  Her body felt empty and cold as Bitty lifted the baby from her arms, and she shivered. Bitty turned to Boyd, her face expressionless. “Mrs. Purnell also suggested you go visit with mother and baby. For the same reason.”

  Boyd gave her one last glance as he followed Bitty and Ivy from the room, leaving Ceecee as desolate as a debris-strewn beach following a hurricane.

  thirty

  Ivy

  2010

  My Ellis has been sitting on the side of my bed now for two days. I knew something was different when his Mustang went from revving the engine to just idling, like it was waiting.

  And then Ellis walked through the wall of my hospital room and sat down. He doesn’t say anything, just smiles, and it’s like no time has passed. The love I feel hasn’t changed. I want him to take my hand, or kiss me, but it’s clear that I’m here and he’s there and the distance might as well be as wide as Winyah Bay because Ellis is unreachable to me.

  Mack comes in carrying flowers that I’m pretty sure came from Carol Anne’s garden, and I hope he asked her permission first. Mack is probably one of the most thoughtful and considerate people I’ve ever known, but he usually acts first and then thinks. I’d like to say Larkin gets her impulsive nature from him, but I think we all know that’s a Darlington trait that I have suffered from myself for most of my life.

  He moves a vase of flowers from Bitty on the table by my bed, replacing it with his bouquet and setting Bitty’s vase on the floor right by my bed. If he paces like he usually does when he visits, he’s going to knock the vase right over. Like I said, he’s really good at acting before he thinks.

  He starts pacing, and I’m glad, because it would be awkward if he and Ellis were sitting on the bed together. I know Ellis sees him because he’s watching him with kind eyes, his expression appreciative. Like he’s thanking Mack for taking care of me all these years. He’s right. Despite that one big lapse in judgment, Mack has always put me on a pedestal, making sure I wanted for nothing. Well, except for the one thing I couldn’t have.

  But now Ellis is here, and it seems like Mack has brought him to me. I feel whole now, as if the two halves of my heart have come together. I wonder if that’s a sign of some kind.

  “I miss you, Ivy. I miss you so much.” Mack stops at the side of my bed and looks down at me, touches my cheek. “I can’t remember the last time I told you I love you. I guess I gave up waiting for you to say it back. I just want you to know that I’m okay with that. I know you loved me in your way, and that really was enough for a long time. But then that thing with Larkin her senior year. When something bad happened but she wouldn’t talk about it.” He stops and shakes his head. “I didn’t know what to do. I needed a partner then, someone to talk with about it. And you were off painting murals in other people’s houses. I saw the one you did in Carol Anne’s laundry room, you know. I saw the highway with the 1960s cars, and the red Mustang convertible with you and Ellis in the front seat, your hair streaming behind you. Hard to miss that hair. I think I told you once it’s the color of sea oats with a slice of fire in it. Not sure where that red came from, but it matches your personality. It’s just one of the many things I love about you.”

  He starts pacing again. “I liked feeling needed, too. By someone I could talk to who wasn’t wishing I was someone else.” He stops by the window. “I’m sorry for what I did. I know I’ve said that a million times, but it’s true. You didn’t deserve it. I would have ended the affair even if Larkin hadn’t seen me with Donna at the movie theater. I promise. I just wish Larkin hadn’t seen that. Everything was going wrong in her world, and then that happened. And when you refused to leave me, that was the last straw, it seemed. Like everyone in her life had disappointed her, and she couldn’t stay. I just wish I could go back and change all that.”

  Mack shakes his head. “I’ve been having strange dreams lately. About Ellis, of all people. I know what he looks like from all the photos at Carol Anne’s. It’s always the same thing. He’s sitting in his Mustang outside Ceecee’s house, looking at the front door like he’s expecting you to come out. I feel the anticipation like it’s me waiting in the car. That’s the whole dream, and the door never opens. Maybe because I’m waiting for you to wake up—who knows? I guess I should ask Larkin about it, since she’s the expert.”

  He comes back to the bed, thrumming his hands against the footboard. He approaches like he’s about to say good-bye, but stops. “Did Ceecee or Bitty tell you that Larkin and Bennett are going to the Shag Festival together? I’ve always liked that boy. Didn’t you and Carol Anne used to plot for them to get married? Anyway, she’s going to wear one of Margaret’s dresses—a pretty yellow one that Ceecee’s had in her attic all these years. Bitty says she’s the spitting image of your mother.”

  He smiles, and it’s the smile of the young and earnest man that I remember, the man I thought could save me. “I have no idea how I could possibly have fathered such a gorgeous child, but apparently I did. Not a surprise, since you’re her mother. How lucky for her that she got the Darlington genes.”

  Not all of them, I want to tell him. Larkin somehow managed to get the worthwhile genes from all the branches of her family tree, leaving the bad ones on the ground like overly ripened fruit.

  “By the way, when Larkin stopped by the house, she saw the mural you’d made of her accomplishments. I could tell it made her happy.” He frowns. “Although we’re both confused about the painting of Carrowmore on fire. And the four martins. Not sure what you meant by that. And I sure as heck hope you wake up soon so you can explain it to us.”

  I wish I could wave my hands, make him backtrack. I think hard, remembering painting the mural. Remembering why. And all of a sudden, light like confetti begins falling from the ceiling, and I feel myself lift a little higher off the mattress.
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  Mack steps to the side of the bed and leans over to kiss me on the forehead. “Good-bye, Ivy. I’ll come back tomorrow. Hopefully we won’t have another one-sided conversation. It’s like I’m talking to myself, and I’ve never been a great conversationalist.”

  He steps back and just like I knew he would, he tips over Bitty’s vase of flowers, the sound of breaking glass bringing a nurse rushing in as water spreads over the floor. It’s Donna, the other woman. She must be new here, because I haven’t seen her before. Neither has Mack, judging by the look of surprise they give each other.

  I look over at Ellis, but he’s already gone. I can still hear the Mustang, its engine idling as if waiting for something to happen.

  * * *

  • • •

  Larkin

  2010

  Mabry knocked on my bedroom door and opened it. I sat on the stool in front of my vanity table, painting my nails with a color that matched the Certainly Red lipstick Ceecee had let me borrow. I probably should have been embarrassed to admit to anyone that I was borrowing makeup from a seventy-seven-year-old, but it was such a luscious red color that I didn’t care. Plus, it had matching polish. No matter my years in New York City, my Southern roots showed every time I matched my shoes with my purse, or my nail color to my lipstick.

  Mabry pulled a full-sized suitcase on wheels behind her and carried a garment bag over her arm, a bag of shoes tied around the handle. “I thought we were getting dressed for a party, not planning a three-month getaway,” I said.

  “Ha-ha. I think you’ve been living outside the South too long, sugar,” she said, deepening her already thick accent. She rolled the suitcase to a stop and eyed me critically. “It’s really disgusting to the rest of us, you know.”

  “What is?” I asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

  “That you look so good without makeup. Don’t tell anyone I said this out loud, but you don’t need any. Still, I’m going to try.” She bent down to look at me more closely, her grin widening as she spotted something she could fix. “Your eyelashes are pretty pale and so are your brows.” Straightening, she said, “This will be fun,” then began unzipping her suitcase, pulling out makeup bags, hair-styling tools, and a bottle of wine.

  “Just like old times.” I grinned, remembering school dances from our not-too-distant past. We’d get dressed and do each other’s makeup and sneak up a bottle of wine with Bennett’s help, using a grocery bag attached to a string dangled outside my window.

  “Yep. And we can either be civilized and borrow glasses from Ceecee’s china cabinet, or we could really be retro and take turns drinking it straight from the bottle.”

  In answer, I reached over and unscrewed the cap and took a long swig before handing it back to her to do the same. “I hope this is the only part that reminds me of the old school dances,” I said, remembering how I would mostly stand against the wall, pretending I was busy watching the colorful lights on the ceiling or head out on the dance floor and act like I enjoyed dancing by myself. All the while I’d be keeping an eye on Jackson Porter, waiting for him to finally notice me, to see what a great dancer I was and ask me to be his partner. He never did.

  Bennett would usually save me from myself and dance with me, or Mabry would pull me to the dance floor to dance with her partner as she feigned the need to use the restroom. Either way, those dances were miserable experiences for me, and yet I always looked forward to them, hopeful each time that it would be different.

  Mabry snorted. “Hardly. I might need to bring a stopwatch to time your dance partners since I’m sure there will be so many. I can be your handler tonight.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I sincerely doubt that will be necessary, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.”

  Mabry began pulling out makeup, lining up the bottles, tubes, and brushes like soldiers preparing for battle. “Well, I know for sure that Bennett will be at the front of the line.”

  I took another swig from the wine bottle. “I wasn’t planning on speaking to him tonight.”

  She rolled two eyeliner pencils in her palm. “You don’t have to. Just dance.”

  “Have you ever danced without talking? Actually, I don’t think you’ve ever slept without talking. You’re pretty vocal, you know.”

  “I’ve been told that a few times,” Mabry said, shoving one of the eye pencils back in the bag, then picking up three blushers and popping open the lids to compare. Or blend. I had no idea. I’d always loved makeup, but despite Ceecee’s tutelage, I’d ended up looking more like Ronald McDonald with my efforts and had mostly given up. But Mabry knew what she was doing, and had always been in charge of making me look less like a clown and more like a girl someone might want to dance with. Not that it had helped, unless I counted Bennett, but at least I’d felt good.

  “How long do you think this will take?” I asked, eyeing her arsenal.

  She looked over at my bedside clock. “It’s five o’clock now, and the boys aren’t expected until six thirty, so we can pace ourselves.” She looked at my straight hair, oversized jeans shorts, and faded extra-large T-shirt from a Backstreet Boys concert I’d gone to with Mabry. “I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  She peered at me over an open bottle of liquid foundation she was swatching on the underside of my forearm. “The band doesn’t start until seven, but they’re having a little refresher course at six. Although from what I recall, Bennett was doing a pretty good job of reminding you of the steps when I saw y’all in Mama’s garage.”

  I hid my blush by bending close to my arm and pretending to study the various shades. “I expect I’ll only have two dance partners, and I’m sure they’ll both be forgiving.”

  Mabry met my eyes and frowned. “Are you including Jackson in that number?”

  “Of course. He texted me, saying he’s so looking forward to it. He’s already bought a ticket.”

  Mabry snorted. “That’s because he’s cheap. Tickets are only twenty dollars if you buy them ahead of time, but twenty-five at the door.”

  “You don’t think he’s excited about seeing me?” I surprised myself at how eager I sounded. How hopeful and insecure.

  She put down a handful of lip glosses and faced me. “Larkin, have you analyzed your feelings for Jackson? I mean, have you considered that your infatuation with him is for the idol you knew and worshipped when you were sixteen? Has the adult Larkin, the one who’s learned a thing or two in the last nine years, actually looked at the adult Jackson?”

  Before I could think of a way to respond, she leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Let’s not forget the senior party on his dad’s boat. There were some awful things said. A lot of accusations, a lot of denials, and I ended up with a concussion.”

  She held up her hand to stop me when I opened my mouth to speak. “We’re not having that talk now, but we will. Before you leave Georgetown. Even if I have to follow you onto your plane and ride with you back to New York so there won’t be an escape. What matters, what I’ve always wanted you to know, is that I feel no ill-will over what happened, and that I understand, with every fiber of my being, that Jackson was responsible for all of it, and that you were an innocent victim. You thought you were in love with him, and you got caught up in his nastiness and swollen ego.”

  “Stop,” I said. She handed me a tissue, and I wiped my eyes, surprised to find that I was crying. “You don’t know what it was like to be me, to be the loser kid who never got picked for teams in PE or to be someone’s lab partner. Jackson Porter was out of my league, and I knew it. All I’m asking is that you humor me while I live the fantasy of finally being in his league, to be worthy of consideration.”

  “Worthy of consideration?” She rolled her eyes. “Are you listening to yourself?” Mabry asked. “Because you were never out of his league. You’ve always been far above him in all ways. I want to slap you f
or even saying that. Especially after what he said . . .”

  I held up my hand. “He apologized. Deeply and sincerely, and I believe him. He said he was a jerk, and that he was sorry. He wants to start fresh. I respect a man who can apologize. Besides, we’re older and smarter now. Both of us.”

  She sighed heavily. “Being older doesn’t mean a person has changed. There are a lot of old jerks still around as proof. Jackson’s the same pompous jerk he’s always been. You just happen to have blinders on where he’s concerned. You haven’t realized it yet, but you left Jackson Porter in the dust years ago.”

  We were interrupted by a knock on the door. Ceecee pushed it open. “I brought you ladies glasses for your bottle of wine. Don’t think I wasn’t aware of what was going on in my house back in the day. Why do you think I never called the police when I spotted a tall man loitering in my backyard?”

  Mabry took the glasses; I pretended to study the assortment of makeup in front of me so Ceecee couldn’t tell I’d been crying. “Thanks, Ceecee. Now we can feel more civilized.”

  “Can I get you anything else? Maybe some cheese and crackers to absorb the alcohol?”

  “Good idea,” Mabry and I said together, and we both laughed, dispelling the sour mood.

  To save Ceecee another trip up and down the stairs, Mabry and I retrieved the cheese and crackers, then returned to my room to begin the transformation—her words, not mine. But as my face and hair began to take shape, my thoughts kept returning to our conversation about Jackson. Was I wrong in believing him? To think him changed? And did it really matter? Just one night to live out my fantasy, and then, like Cinderella, I’d be gone.

  “You ready to put on your dress?” Mabry stood in front of me, wearing her fluffy pink robe, her hair pinned and sprayed within an inch of its life to create the illusion of carelessly tossed beach waves.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said, unable to mask the small sensation of excitement I felt at transforming into someone new, even if it was just for a night.