Stones of Sandhill Island

by Peggy Chambers

  Franks thought she would be home now. He saw the restaurant close the deck when the fog rolled in, and he assumed she went home early. He’d roamed this island enough to decide which house she lived in, one of the many in need of paint. The same one the mongrel dog frequented. She probably fed it. He wondered if she knew it would soon present her with other mouths to feed.

  He saw a light on in the back of the house, but he could see no movement. He heard the backdoor slam and slid around the corner to see who walked out. Creeping under the window on one side of the house, he edged up over the sill and peeked. In the dark room, he could make out a bed in the middle of the room. A chair sat next to the bed—probably the old woman’s wheelchair. Surely, she slept.

  Sneaking along the rough wooden siding, he reached the corner of the house where the noise came from. A figure bent over trash cans filling them for the next collection. When she raised her head, he recognized the dark face of the nurse. Billie must be in the house. A good time to talk to her with the nurse out of the picture and Mom in bed. A red dot formed in the center of the woman’s face, and Franks smelled the acrid smoke of cigarettes. The nurse walked out for a smoke break. That gave him even more time.

  Walking hunched over along the side of the house to the front screened door, he heard panting underfoot. The dog. It lay under the porch, but it made no move to stop him or alert those in the house of his intent. The pant became a whine, but evidently the dog felt no need to warn the woman who fed her. He stopped and slowly took a step onto the front porch. The door of the house stood just a few feet away. Reaching up, he turned the knob, knowing no one locked their doors on Sandhill Island, and stepped into the house.

  The light was on in the kitchen at the back; he slowly made his way through the house looking for the woman who ruined his life. He might have to scare her this time to make her realize he meant business. No one occupied the kitchen. Maybe she had already gone to bed. He opened the door of the bedroom next to the kitchen and walked blindly to the bed. The fog blew away enough to shine a moment of moonlight into the room, enough for Franks to see an unoccupied bed. The nurse was out back. If Billie wasn’t home, that meant the only other person in the house had to be the old lady. Maybe he should pay her a visit. Scare the old woman enough, and she would surely tell Billie. She might be of some use after all.

  He crept to the open door of the second bedroom and saw a lump in the middle of the bed. He’d heard she had Parkinson’s, a disease that led to the failure of her legs—so she had a wheelchair. She wouldn’t be able to run very far.

  At the edge of the bed, he could hear the soft breathing and smell the stink of old woman. Old age and sickness ravaged her body. He leaned over her, and she suddenly jumped, letting out a small screech. Franks quickly put his grimy hand over her face and nose. He hoped the nurse remained outside enjoying her cigarette.

  “Don’t move and don’t make a sound.” He pressed down harder to let her know he meant business. She struggled slightly, and he pushed harder.

  “I said be still! Where’s Billie? Where’s your daughter?” He released his hold, so she could answer.

  She gasped, and her body shook. “Who—who are you?” She spoke with all the urgency her frail body could muster.

  “I said, where’s Billie? Don’t mess with me old woman. I know you’re sick, but you still know where your daughter is.”

  “At work.” She gasped as she talked, and trembled under his touch—one hand still on her neck.

  “She left hours ago; the fog rolled in and they shut down the deck.”

  “Then I don’t know. I’m sure she’ll be home soon. Please, go away.” The old woman’s trembling increased.

  Franks leaned in close to the woman’s gasping lips. “You tell her I’m tired of asking. You tell Billie that the time has come for her to help me out. I need another job, and she is going to help me get it. It’s her fault I had to go to jail and lost every penny I ever had. Now it is time for her to pay up.” Giselle squirmed under his hand and tried to get away by shoving his face with her hands and scooting backwards on useless legs. She swung her arm up pushing herself away from him and slipped off the backside of the small bed. Her movements knocked over the antique glass lamp, shattering it on the hardwood floor. Giselle let out a weak scream followed by a moan. She must have been cut from the glass. And the fall would do her no good either.

  The dog under the porch suddenly howled in alarm and the backdoor slammed. Franks ran for the front of the house, out the door and across the porch. He heard the nurse behind him screaming at him to stop. Keeping his stride, he ran into the foggy night.

  ****

  Crooning into the microphone, Billie felt a change in the temperature and the sea breeze became clammier than normal, her dress clinging to bare legs. Fog rolled in off the ocean and up across the island like a sticky, translucent, marshmallow cream. She glanced off the deck and knew the low-lying clouds would quickly cover the island in a thick blanket. She nodded to String. Both of them had lived near the water long enough to know the signs. Sea fog, not like the kind that lived in the ditches on land, had a mind of its own—it came and went uninvited, and would stay as long as it liked.

  She signaled String to take a break and walked toward the door of the restaurant. She would get some help to move the equipment inside. Patrons would be leaving soon. She waved at Neil as she walked by his table near the back of the deck. Lately he sat at the same table on the weekends, and she knew the reason. He came to see her.

  The large double doors quickly opened, and bus boys arrived to move her precious piano back inside in the corner and out of the weather. There were few diners left, inside or out, and many were leaving because of the fog.

  She helped String and the bus boys with the rest of the equipment, stacking it under the piano and out of the way. They were done for the evening.

  “Well, that was fast. I didn’t hear about fog in the forecast for this evening.” Billie spoke to String or anyone standing near.

  “We might as well call it a night. There’s hardly anyone left anyway.” String placed the amp under the piano with the cords stacked on top.

  “Can I take you home?” Billie turned to find Neil behind her. “My car is outside, and you might get lost out there and end up in the water.”

  The restaurant cleared out, the last of the customers stood in line paying their bills. Sam would lose money tonight due to the weather.

  Billie hesitated. She needed to let Neil back in her life. After all, the storm on the ocean that day wasn’t his fault. She knew it wasn’t safe to be walking; she might get hit by a car. Maybe she should accept the offer. “That would be nice, thank you.”

  Neil broke into the biggest smile she had ever seen on his face. “Do we have time for a drink before we leave?”

  “Take your time,” Sam said as he silently appeared beside her. “We’ll clean up around you. And thanks for taking our girl home. It’s good to know she will be in good hands. My place is just out the back door and String stays upstairs on the weekends. Billie lives the farthest away.”

  “Thank you. I’ll have a club soda.” Billie sat at the one table that did not have the chairs already stacked on it.

  “Make that two,” Neil said to the waiter who probably had other duties to attend to.

  “I can’t stay long. Mom is already in bed and Raven is probably tired. She has a bed at our house and sleeps there when I work, but it is nice to have her around. Mom’s not getting better and sometimes it takes both of us. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  Sam arrived with the drinks, his waiters and bus boys scrambling around him. When Neil tried to pay, Sam waved him away, then walked to the back.

  “So, how long does this fog last?” Neil took a long draw from the drink.

  “It lasts as long as it wants but normally all night and into the morning. The sun will burn it off unless the wind comes up and blows it away during the night. That’s just part of the
charm of living on an island.”

  “And you wouldn’t live anywhere else?” Neil looked Billie up and down

  “I don’t think so. I really love it here. I go into Corpus when I have to, but this place is just right for me. And as long as Mom needs me, I’m not going anywhere. I know she won’t be around forever.”

  “Well, it is beautiful, and I love the warm weather. I’ve lived in Montana most of my life, but hated the cold. I don’t know what took me so long to leave. In fact, maybe I won’t go back. I’ve thought of branching out and setting up a business here, too. My buddy in Montana could run the one up there and I could run the one here. I don’t know, just a thought.”

  Billie drained her glass. Singing made her thirsty. The water bottle on the piano was long gone.

  “Are you ready to go?” Neil took another sip. “I just want to say how nice it is just sitting here talking and getting to know another human being. Especially a beautiful one.”

  Billie felt herself blush in the darkening restaurant.

  “Yes, I need to get going.” She picked up the glasses and took them to the kitchen where she stored her purse, then walked back to the man who had offered her a ride home.

  Neil opened the door and was greeted by a scene out of a Stephen King movie. “It’s like looking through waxed paper. I’m not sure my mom’s pea soup was this thick,” he said as he led her to the car by the building. Opening the door for her, he walked around to the driver’s side, sat, and started the engine. Billie, in the passenger seat, pulled down her skirt. She jumped when the cell phone in her purse rang.

  She opened her purse for the phone. It read “Raven” on the screen.

  “I’m on my way,” she said into the phone and then stopped.

  “Billie, it’s your mother. I’ve called an ambulance.” Raven’s voice shook with emotion.

  Neil pulled out of the parking lot too quickly for the weather conditions and immediately turned the little sports car toward the beach house where Billie lived.

  “What do you mean, you’ve called the ambulance? What’s wrong with her? Turn right here,” Billie said as she listened to Raven. “No, that’s an alley, it is up a little further.”

  “I found her on the floor by her bed. She’d fallen out of bed.” Raven paused. “She was unresponsive.”

  Neil pulled into the front yard where the porch light burned, and revolving lights of the emergency vehicle shown like disco lights in the fog. Billie bailed out of the car before he completely stopped, the phone still glued to her ear. The front door opened, and the gurney wheeled out, followed by Raven. A white sheet covered the body completely—no question who lay under the sheet.

  ****

  Lillie let out a howl under the porch as the ambulance drove away. As if by magic, Poppy appeared like a wraith out of the mist and walked to the porch after everyone was gone. He sat down on the ground at the mouth of the hole where the dog lay and patted her head. He spoke softly to the animal that was becoming a mother for the first time in her life and stayed with her until the morning sun began to burn off the shroud that covered the island.

  Daylight found four little puppies with their eyes still closed to the world—one black, two brown, and one white.

  “You just rest, girl, and I’ll get you something to eat.” Poppy once again patted the long brown nose as she lay back and let her young nurse. He would take care of her until Billie returned.

  Chapter 25

  Giselle had planned her own funeral. Practical to a fault, she preferred cremation, and Billie did as her mother asked. Later, they would take the ashes out to sea, but today the funeral held the small group of people from the island who knew Giselle and some old friends from the ballet.

  A few old dancers on canes with arthritis in their joints traveled in from out of town. One, a man Billie had never seen before, stayed very attentive to the urn that held her mother. She wondered what secrets her mother took to the grave, but she did not ask.

  White lilies adorned the church altar, and a picture of her mother dancing sat next to the urn. The scent of funeral flowers took her back, but she refused to allow those memories to mix with the last thing she would ever do for her mother.

  “Miss Billie, I’m so sorry about your mother. She was a good lady.” Poppy stood in the church looking out of place in a jacket that had seen better days. Probably it was the only one he owned. After all, who needed a sports coat just to sit on a dock fishing all day? He patted her hand and limped away.

  Raven sat up straight in the pew dabbing at her eyes. Billie asked her to sit with the family. On the other side sat Billie’s oldest friend, Sandy. She brought her mother and the children.

  Once she was home, the neighbors stopped by all afternoon with casseroles and cakes, enough to feed an army. Raven and Sandy stood by taking in the food and finding a place for it. Some would be labeled and frozen for another date.

  “So, you have a dog with four pups to keep you company,” Martha said with a smile.

  “Yes, you want a puppy? In about six weeks I’ll be looking for homes. As it is, Poppy is helping me keep them fed.”

  “Doesn’t their mother do that?” Martha looked up from the tea cup she held in her hand.

  “Yes, but Mom has to eat so she can feed them. Anyway, Poppy has taken a real shine to Lillie, and maybe he would like to have one of the babies when they are old enough. He might need a companion too.”

  Billie made the rounds talking to everyone who stopped in, and by afternoon she found she was exhausted.

  ****

  The old house creaked with each gust of wind. Finally, they were gone—everyone gone. Billie had thought she would be pleased when everyone left, and she had time to herself. Now she wasn’t sure. She walked from the cleaned and organized kitchen, ushering them all out onto the porch. Sandy would be back later, after she got her mother and kids home.

  Taking off the dress she wore to the funeral, she donned shorts and flip flops—the standard uniform of the island. She walked past her mother’s room several times and could not make herself go in. From the door, she saw the perfectly made bed. The table showed an empty spot where a lamp once sat, the shattered mess long since swept clean. Billie knew Raven must have cleaned it up after the ambulance left. Only the closet door stood ajar. The room still smelled of her mother’s perfume.

  Finally, after the third attempt, her footsteps led her into the room. Her mother’s dressing table sat as if nothing had ever happened. The mirror she used to see the back of her hair still lay on the lace doily—an antique from another era. It had once belonged to Billie’s grandmother. How many women had used it? How many shades of lipstick had been reflected in that mirror? She turned it over running her fingers over the mother-of-pearl back that once held jewels of many colors—now empty slots looked back at Billie, and she wondered what it looked like when new.

  When she opened the closet, her mother’s scent smacked her in the face once more. The blue robe Mother wore hung on a hook inside the door. What would she do with the clothes now? She should go through them, but her first inclination was to build a fire and burn them. A kind of shrine to all that her mother had been—a dancer, mother, friend, lover. How many labels could you put on a person’s life?

  “Aunt Billie?”

  Billie turned with a start. She had not heard the door open, but Carol stood in the doorway of the bedroom.

  “Carol, I didn’t hear you come in. Is your mother with you?” Billie closed the closet door quickly and turned to face the girl.

  “She’s coming. But, I wanted to ask you, if it’s okay with my mom, can I have one of Lillie’s puppies when they are old enough?” She smiled a young girl smile, looking like her mother in her childhood.

  Billie put the mirror back on the dressing table. “Of course, if your mother says it’s okay. But it will be about six weeks before they are old enough to eat food and not be dependent up on their mom.”

  “That’s okay, I can wait. What�
�s that? It is so pretty.” The girl reached for the mirror on the dresser.

  “It belonged to my mother. It had been her mother’s. I have no idea what to do with all this stuff, but it is lovely, isn’t it?” Billie gestured to the mirror in the girl’s hand.

  “It looks like Giselle. I can see her using it.” Carol smiled as she ran a finger over the handle.

  “Would you like to have it to remember Giselle by? I think she would like knowing you have it.”

  “Really? I can have it?” Carol turned the mirror over and looked at herself in the reflection.

  “I want you to. I think Mom would want you to, also.” Billie smiled at the girl who was so much like a daughter to her. “Which puppy do you want?” Billie smoothed the doily where the mirror had lay.

  “I want a girl dog. I know that much. But I haven’t decided which one. Can I go look at them again?” Carol looked up hopefully.

  “Yes, but remember to move slowly and speak quietly so not to disturb mother or babies. She has them right under the porch. You can see them from outside.”

  The girl turned and walked quietly out the door. Billie thought she would be good with a puppy.

  Once again inside the closet, Billie saw the hat box. Her mother said it held mementos. She placed the round box on the bed near the window and lifted the lid. Dust motes floated in the afternoon sun as it shone in the window and onto the aging box. There were letters, ribbons, and programs from evenings at the ballet. Her mother’s memories, and Billie felt the stab of pain once again. Her mother’s entire life in one box on the bed. How would she get through this again?

  The pale blue padded envelope lay in the bottom. She gently lifted the lip, and the edges of the paper crumbled in her hands. Inside she found a note written in heavy scrawl, and a black book of matches with gold filigree letters told of bygone days when all the best clubs gave out matchbooks to their patrons. Johnny Fats, it read, and she flipped open the cover. The matches were dry and probably still worked. She laid them aside and read the letter.