“You’re a brave girl.”
“I don’t know about that. I was shaking in my boots last night. Daddy’s reputation preceded me.”
Mamaw sighed sadly. “Oh, Harper. Don’t be ashamed of him.”
“No, not ashamed,” she hurried to answer. “But, all my life I lived with his name being the source of jokes in my family. So to tell my mother, or, by association, Granny James, that I was writing a book . . . I shudder to even think of what they might have said. I had to keep it a secret from them, and eventually it became so I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. Not even you, Mamaw. At least not until I knew I could finish it. Given Daddy’s history, I had to accomplish that much.” Harper nestled closer to her grandmother.
“I had no idea.”
“You couldn’t have. I didn’t tell you.” Harper paused as Taylor’s face came to mind. “I couldn’t have done it without Taylor. He helped me to overcome my fears.”
“He is a courageous man. A warrior.”
“Yes, but I don’t mean that kind of courage. He risked his own skin in battle and was injured.” Harper looked up at Mamaw’s face. “But he says that was the easy part.” She laughed at seeing Mamaw’s surprised expression. That had been her own reaction when Taylor had told her that. “Taylor taught me that real courage is belief in yourself. To face and defeat your fear, or be defeated by it.”
Mamaw stilled and looked out the window. She said softly, “I understand that kind of courage.”
“I know you do,” Harper replied, thinking of all Mamaw’s losses. To lose someone you love, especially your own child, Harper imagined, required great courage.
“You know,” Mamaw said, the word courage comes from the French root coeur, which means ‘heart.’ You, Harper, have great heart.”
“Whatever happened to his book?” she asked suddenly. “Is it upstairs in the attic? In one of those boxes?”
Mamaw shook her head. “He destroyed it,” she said sadly. “Parker destroyed everything he ever wrote. Even his letters. There’s nothing left.”
“That’s tragic.” Harper felt the loss deeply. “And selfish. I would have loved to read his writings.”
“Perhaps it was selfish. I read some of his early work. Let’s just say Parker did not respond well to criticism. And, perhaps, having failed, he didn’t want his work to be criticized posthumously.” Harper felt her grandmother’s shoulders shrug under her head. “It was his choice. But”—Mamaw stroked Harper’s hair—“his spirit is alive in you. And I know that he would be very proud of you. As am I.”
Harper’s heart swelled. “And I am proud that I’m like him.”
“Yes”—Mamaw sighed—“except, my dear”—she kissed Harper’s head again—“you have a gift that was missing in your father. Determination.”
Mamaw fanned her face as she sat in her favorite place in the shade under the black-and-white awning of her back porch. It was late afternoon, yet waves of shimmering heat still hovered over the water. Lord, she wasn’t complaining, she thought. It was September and the weather in the tropics was calm without a threat in sight. She’d take the heat any day over a storm front. Still, she thought, reaching for her glass of iced tea, this summer was ranking as one of the South’s ten hottest on record, all those just since 1998. That, and the increasing number of manatees she was seeing in the Cove, convinced her the earth’s climate was changing.
“Lord, Lord, Lord, it’s hot,” she said again, then took a sip of tea, smacking her lips. That was good, she thought. Setting the glass on the table, she surveyed the playing cards laid out before her in a game of solitaire. Despite the heat, she was most comfortable out here in the shade where the occasional breeze brought relief. She couldn’t bear to be cooped up indoors like a hen in a henhouse.
“Halloo! Marietta!”
She turned her head to see a woman walking around the side of the house. She squinted to be sure she was seeing straight. Yes, it was Imogene, but for a moment she thought it might be one of the girls. Imogene was wearing gray jogging pants with a racing stripe down the sides and a thin running shirt, the kind that Harper wore. Under her floppy hat, her black sunglasses were large and her face was pink. That woman looked rode hard and put up wet.
“It’s beastly hot today,” Imogene exclaimed as she drew near.
Marietta removed her sunglasses and asked with veiled criticism, “You were running? In this weather?”
“No.” Imogene’s tone implied she was not that silly. “Walking.” She was breathing heavily from exertion. “I’ve been walking for hours. I just love the beach,” she said with vigor. “And,” she begrudgingly acknowledged, “this is a particularly lovely stretch of sand. Crikey! I almost fainted when a cargo ship passed.”
Marietta reached for a fresh glass on the tray and poured tea from the thermos she kept nearby. She handed it to Imogene. “You look parched.”
“What is it?”
“Iced tea.”
“Oh, perfect. Thank you.” Imogene took a big swallow and scrunched her face. “It’s so sweet!”
“Of course it is. It’s sweet tea. That’s how we drink it here.”
“Do you have any unsweetened tea?”
“No. Not made. Would you care for some water instead?”
“Don’t trouble yourself.” Imogene sighed with resignation, then took another swallow. She licked her lips and looked at the glass with curiosity. “What’s in this? It’s actually rather good.”
Marietta smiled and reached for her own glass. “I made it myself from an old family recipe. It’s as sweet as a baby’s kiss.”
Imogene set the glass down on the table along with her beach bag. Marietta watched with shock as Imogene began stripping off her damp shirt and pants. Underneath, she was wearing a swimsuit. The modest navy one-piece suit nonetheless revealed her slim figure. She was small boned, like Harper, and fit for a woman her age. Imogene was fit for a woman of any age, she thought with chagrin. Marietta smoothed her tunic self-consciously, glad Girard wasn’t here to witness the spectacle.
“I’m going for a quick dip to cool off.” Imogene strolled down the steps to the lower deck. She stood at the edge of the pool, arched her arms over her head, and with a buoyant spring dove into the water. Marietta knew a moment of envy watching Imogene stroke across the length of the pool with vigor. Back and forth she swam, kicking her legs, clearly enjoying herself. When she was done, she emerged from the pool as sleek as a seal.
“Bless her heart,” Marietta murmured, and took another long swallow of tea.
“That’s much better,” Imogene exclaimed when she returned to the shade of the upper deck. She slicked back her auburn hair from her face, then grabbed a beach towel from her bag. After shaking off the sand from it, she rubbed her body vigorously. Wrapping the towel around her shoulders, she took a seat beside Marietta.
“May I?” Imogene lifted the thermos.
“Help yourself.” With a smile playing at her lips Marietta watched her pour another glass of tea. “Swim much, do you?”
“Every day. In the season, that is. I try to get to Georgiana’s house in the Hamptons in the spring when it’s still nasty in England. The water there is still nippy, but I grew up spending summers at my family’s summer house in Cornwall, so I’m accustomed to a bracing dip in icy water.” Imogene looked to the pool. “Your pool water feels rather like a bathtub. Not very refreshing.”
That woman could start an argument in an empty room, Marietta thought. She answered cordially, “Here, the sun is a natural pool heater. I like it warm.”
“Hmmm.” Imogene settled into her chair. “Where is everyone?”
“Out.”
“Harper, too?” She sipped her tea.
Marietta’s sunglasses hid her roll of the eyes. “Yes, Harper, too. She went with Dora to help hang curtains in her new house. She’ll be moving in next week. The first to go.” She gave a long sigh. “And Carson is taking water samples from the Cove in preparation for Delphine’s release
.”
“Delphine, that’s the dolphin she befriended. The one that was injured?”
“Glad to see you’re getting your stories straight.”
“Well, there are so many.” Imogene sipped her tea.
“We are nothing if not interesting. And we’re all aflutter for the dolphin’s release, coming up any day now. Maybe you’ll still be here to witness it with us.”
“Perhaps.” Then, as if a veil were removed, Imogene’s face drooped. She shook her head slowly. “I don’t know how much longer I dare stay. I’m afraid I must leave soon. Jeffrey doesn’t do well when I am gone.”
Mamaw was alert to the change in tone. “Is your husband ill?”
“Not in the usual sense. He has Alzheimer’s.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” Mamaw said sincerely.
“Yes, well . . .” Imogene’s face reflected a troubled heart. She placed her sunglasses on, then just as quickly took them off again. “He’s had the diagnosis for several years. We’ve managed through the early stages well enough. He was forgetful, occasionally would mix up dates. That sort of thing. Then, two years ago, things took a turn. Now he’s confused, he can’t complete tasks, he wanders with a dazed look in his eyes.” She brought her hand to her forehead. “He can’t read,” she said emotionally. “It’s heartbreaking to watch. Jeffrey had a brilliant mind and was an avid reader. Books were his life. Now”—Imogene sighed and dropped her arm—“he forgets what he’s read. Reads the same book over and over without, I fear, comprehending. Even his speech . . .”
Mamaw thought that Imogene was beginning to slur her speech.
Imogene continued, leaning closer. “He repeats things. Or blurts out the strangest comments. Travel is out of the question. He gets lost at Greenfields Park. He could never navigate a strange area. And, he gets far too agitated away from home.” She paused, collecting herself. “Forgive me. I don’t know what’s come over me. Must be the heat. I didn’t mean to go on and on.”
“Don’t apologize,” Marietta said, feeling expansive. “Sometimes we need to let our thoughts out or it feels like we’ll burst.”
“It does, doesn’t it. I haven’t been out much lately. Jeffrey and all.”
“It must be very difficult.”
“It is.” Imogene sniffed. “Jeffrey was always my rock. And now . . .”
“I do understand.” Marietta felt a bit teary herself. “Edward and I had such plans for when he retired. And then he passed. Heart attack.”
“I don’t know which is harder to bear. A quick death or watching one dwindle.”
Marietta took a long drink of her tea, reflecting on that point. “I really don’t know. Do you have help?”
Imogene nodded. “I have a nurse come by daily. And someone stays with him when I’m away, of course. But it’s not the same as when I’m there. I calm him. As much as I’d like to stay, I must return.”
“Of course.” Mamaw patted Imogene’s hand comfortingly.
“I had dreams that Harper would return with me.” Imogene’s smile was wistful. “It would have been comforting to have her with me now. It gets quite lonely rattling around alone in that big house. I’d hoped she’d eventually take over the estate. I wanted her to love Greenfields Park like she does Sea Breeze. But I think we both know the answer to that, don’t we?” Imogene took another long sip of tea.
Marietta followed suit, sipping her tea and reserving comment.
“Selfish of me, I realize that now,” Imogene continued. “She’s her own person. Capable of making her own decisions. For me to force the responsibilities of Greenfields Park on her by virtue of guilt would be to take advantage of her willing nature. I wouldn’t want to do that to her.” Imogene brought her hand to her heart and her voice cracked. “I love Harper far too much to burden her in that way.”
Marietta felt her heart soften toward the woman and refreshed both of their glasses.
“This tea is growing on me with every sip. It has a bit of kick. What exactly is your secret ingredient?”
Marietta smiled mischievously. “Rum.”
“I knew there was something about it I liked.” Imogene laughed, then hiccuped. “Goodness, I’m feeling a bit tipsy.”
“I’m afraid we’re both stewed.”
Imogene looked at Marietta and smiled ruefully. “You know, when I came here, I was prepared to dislike you. I thought you were trying to unload your burden of your house on Harper’s shoulders.”
“Like you.”
Imogene shrugged and wagged a finger, the alcohol clearly taking effect. “I wasn’t going to let you get away with that.” She shrugged again. “I see now that I was mistaken. Harper’s made her choice. She wants to live here.”
“What will become of Greenfields Park?”
“The writing is on the wall. Like you, Marietta, I’ve come to the realization that I can no longer manage it.” Imogene put her face in her palm. “As I must face the decision that I can no longer manage Jeffrey at home.” She dropped her palm. “When I get back, I shall have to find a suitable facility for him.” She was having a difficult time with her sibilant consonants. “And once I do . . .” She paused. “I guess I’ll have to find a place for myself as well. It’s time for me to move on.” She made a sailing motion with her hand.
Marietta laughed and raised her glass. “Here’s to the future.”
The two women clinked glasses.
Marietta asked the question that had been niggling at her since Imogene’s arrival. “What about your daughter? Doesn’t she want the estate?”
“Georgiana? Good God, no. The last thing she wants is to be burdened by the responsibilities of Greenfields Park. Georgiana is all about her career.”
“Isn’t there some uncle or nephew?”
“To do what?”
“To take over. You know. Inherit.”
Imogene tilted her head in thought. “Are you under the impression that Greenfields Park is a family estate? Generations of Jameses and all that?”
“Well, isn’t it?”
Imogene laughed, high and trill. Mamaw couldn’t help but laugh with her.
“No, not atall,” she said with affectation, “Jeffrey and I bought the estate. And now”—Imogene raised her hands—“we’ll sell it.” She leaned forward and waved Marietta closer as one telling a secret. “For a tidy profit, too.” Nodding, Imogene leaned back in her seat. “I’ll be glad to be rid of it. I want to travel.”
“Do you?” Marietta leaned forward. “So do I!”
“Bora-Bora,” they said in unison.
Both women smiled and again clinked their glasses together.
Imogene smiled. “I think we’re going to be great friends.”
“I do, too. We’re a lot alike in some ways. We’re both from another era,” Marietta said pensively.
“So true. These young women don’t want to be saddled with large estates that demand all their time and attention. Besides, who can afford to maintain them?”
“Exactly.”
“Life seemed simpler when we were young,” Imogene said. “Though I admit, I’ve relaxed since I’ve been here. There’s something sultry and seductive about this place.”
“It’s the magic of the lowcountry. And the rum,” Marietta added conspiratorially.
Both women laughed.
Imogene picked up Marietta’s fan. “May I?”
“Please.” Marietta gestured.
Imogene began fanning lazily. “You know, it’s a wonderful thing you’ve done for your granddaughters. Bringing them all here to spend this time together. I can see how close they are. They’re really quite devoted to one another.”
Marietta’s breath caught at the power of that statement. “You can’t know what that means to me to hear you say that. I was acting purely on instinct. The girls had drifted so far apart. Not only in geography, but in their communication with one another. They’d become little more than strangers.”
“It happens in families. More often than not.”
>
“Then it’s up to us to fix that. I’ve been accused of being controlling, of being a manipulator . . . more often by Harper, I might add. Truth be told, I didn’t know what I was doing. But I had to do something. Felt it in every fiber of my being. Sea Breeze had to be sold. I couldn’t change that. But even if my girls didn’t have Sea Breeze, I wanted them to have each other.”
“You’re a wonderful grandmother.” Imogene hiccuped.
Marietta removed her sunglasses and dabbed at her eyes with a paper napkin. “But I was not a wonderful mother. You met my son, Parker, didn’t you?”
“Once. They were married and divorced so fast, you know. A handsome man.”
“He was, wasn’t he?” Mamaw felt a twinge in her heart. “I mollycoddled him. The doctors today have a fancy new term for mothers like me. Enablers.”
Imogene scoffed and waved her hand dismissively. “Bollocks! Don’t they just love to blame the mother. They said that about me, too. With Georgiana.”
“Really?”
“Indeed they did. Enable? Pshaw.” Imogene again waved her hand. “I’m ashamed to admit, I hardly knew what the girl was doing most of the time.”
Marietta burst out laughing, then covered her mouth. “Sorry.”
“But it was the way we were raised. Children were seen and not heard, eh? I had a nanny for Georgiana, as Georgiana had for Harper. Of course,” Imogene said defensively, “I oversaw all things that concerned my daughter. Directly.”
“Well, you’re a wonderful grandmother, too.” Marietta again patted Imogene’s hand.
“I am,” Imogene staunchly agreed. “Harper is so easy to love.”
Marietta returned a watery smile. “She is.”
“What’s going to happen to them, do you think? Harper and Taylor. Can he provide for her?”
“I believe he can. Not, perhaps, in the style she was raised, but comfortably. And more important, happily.”
“She truly loves this place, doesn’t she?” Imogene’s gaze traveled across the Cove, then to the house. “This Sea Breeze.”
The Summer's End Page 31