It was well after nine by the time they reached her beach house. Lovie was stunned to find Stratton’s black Mercedes parked there. It was like déjà vu in that they’d just been talking about him.
“Looks like company,” Russell said, peering through the windshield.
“My husband’s back.”
“Oh. I should stop by to meet him.”
“No, not now. It’s hot and we’re both full of sand. Why don’t you come by on the Fourth for barbeque? I was going to ask you. I imagine it’d be nice to have a home-cooked meal.”
“I wish I could, but I won’t be here for the holiday.”
“Oh. Of course,” she stammered. “You want to go home for the holiday.”
“To Maine, anyway. To see Pippi. And don’t worry. You won’t be left alone with the project. Bing is returning today to cover for me while I’m gone.”
“That’ll be good news for Flo.”
Russell’s face went serious. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for them to get too friendly.”
“No fraternization with the natives?” she teased.
He didn’t laugh. “It complicates things. They’re working together and all.”
“They’re both consenting adults,” she said, surprised by his attitude.
“It’s not that,” he replied. “I don’t want to see Flo get hurt. Bing is, well, gregarious.”
“He’s not married, is he? Engaged?”
“No.”
“Then don’t worry. Flo can take care of herself. In fact, it’s Bing you should be worried about.”
She’d thought he would smile, but his face was still serious. Perhaps this was a subtle warning to her and she should be a little less friendly herself?
He said, “I’ll fly out the day after tomorrow, but I’ll only be gone a few days.”
“We’ll manage,” Lovie replied, “but I do have a favor to ask. Could you take the time to teach Flo how to move a nest before you go? It means so much to her, and we can use the help when you’re gone.”
He nodded. “I’ll give her a call. I’ll take her out with us tomorrow.”
Lovie got out of the Jeep, and her thoughts shifted to Stratton’s return. Rather than feel elated, she felt an odd dread that stemmed, she suspected, from her guilt at feeling an attraction for Russell Bennett. She’d done nothing wrong, she reminded herself. There was nothing to hide.
Stratton hadn’t been due until tomorrow. Of course he didn’t have to call if he’d decided last minute to come early, but it might have been nice if he had. Now she’d have to wait to call Flo about meeting with Russell tomorrow, and with Stratton home, the girls wouldn’t have their usual wine gathering tonight. She felt the niggling of annoyance.
At the door, she paused to set down her backpack, kick off her sandals, and shake some of the sand from her clothes. She was just smoothing strands of hair from her face when the door swung open.
“There you are!” Stratton was in his tan pants and a clean white polo shirt. He pulled her into his muscled arms and kissed her soundly.
“Stratton, I’m all sweaty,” she said, stepping back from his arms.
“You are a tad rank,” he said with a teasing grin. “Where’ve you been?”
“The beach. Where else? What a surprise! Why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming early? I’d have prepared something special.”
“I don’t need anything special. Just you. I’m just glad to see you. I missed you,” he added with a hint of ardor, pulling her closer. Instinctively, she shrank away.
Stratton held her close. “And the kids,” he added jovially.
Lovie looked over his shoulder into the living room to see Cara and Palmer standing near, grins stretched across their faces. She smiled and patted his shoulder. She should be happy to see him, she told herself. They were a family again. They needed this time together. It was time to rally.
“How long are you here? Don’t you leave for Europe soon?”
“After the Fourth. I thought I’d come here early and spend some quality time with the family, what with me being gone so long. So let’s start the party. How about a cool drink?” he asked her, heading for the kitchen.
“Sounds wonderful. I’m just going to run and get cleaned up,” she said, making an excuse to dart to the shower. “Y’all just help yourself and relax. I’ll be out in a minute.”
The shower felt blissfully cool as it washed away the morning’s sweat and bits of sand from her body. She closed her eyes, smelling the pine in the soap, and tried to recapture the conversation with Russell on the beach, something about instinct and change. She’d never met anyone like him before.
The water turned off with a loud clunk and she stepped into a thick, thirsty towel. Dabbing her face with a corner, she stepped into the bedroom, relishing how cool her skin felt now, all clean and rosy. The white bedroom with its lace at the windows, the crystal bowl filled with seashells, the whitewashed furniture had always felt like her room. It surprised her to find Stratton standing by the dresser, emptying his pockets. He turned to face her.
“You look cooler.”
“I am,” she said on a sigh. “I feel so much better.”
He finished emptying his pockets and put his hands on his hips. He lowered his head in thought, then swinging it back up, he asked, “Why were you out so late this morning?”
She glanced at the clock. It was nearly ten o’clock. Lord help her, it was late. “I had no idea. The time flew by!”
He came closer and handed her an iced drink with a wedge of lime. “What were you doing out there so long?”
“Thank you,” she said, taking the glass. “It’s the new project I mentioned. For the turtles. We cover the whole island now, not just our end. We had four nests to check out just this morning. And we move the nests now.” She sighed. “I’m learning so much.”
Looking up, she noticed his eyes glaze over at the mention of turtles.
“Learning so much?” he repeated. “What the hell do you have to learn? You make it sound like you’re doing some serious research out there. Damn, Lovie, you didn’t even graduate from college or have a serious job. Don’t blow this up out of proportion. And you left the children all that time? Alone?”
She took a sip. Gin and tonic so early? she thought. But she was so thirsty she sipped the drink, feeling its tart coolness quench the burning in her throat from all the words she wanted to say right now.
“They’re not that young anymore,” she replied carefully. “Palmer is thirteen. I babysat other people’s children at that age. And Cara is ten going on forty.”
“Sometimes I think you care more about those damn turtles than you do your own children.”
“Stratton!” she said, simmering. “That’s not fair. And uncalled for. What would you know, anyway? You’re not here.”
“Let’s not get into that . . .”
“Besides, Flo is always on call next door.”
“Her,” he said with a grunt. “I wouldn’t trust her with a cat.”
Lovie didn’t comment, didn’t want to fan another fire.
“Speaking of Cara . . .” He moved to close the bedroom door. Then, stepping back, he knitted his brows and said in a lower voice, “This summer, you ought to spend more time with Cara. Teach her to be the young lady she’s expected to be.”
Lovie reached for the drink and took a swallow. “You’ve been talking to my mother, haven’t you?”
“She may have mentioned something about this. But the concern is all my own. She’s always hanging around the boys. When I came home she was telling me about how she spent the afternoon at the mudhole.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
He gazed at her with eyes simmering with incredulity. “Hell, Lovie, do you even know what or where the mudhole is?”
Lovie didn’t, so she didn’t respond, but her rounded eyes gave her away. She’d assumed it was one of many mudbanks that appeared when the tide was out.
He snort
ed. “Figured you wouldn’t, and you want to know why? Because you’re a girl, that’s why. The mudhole is out on the back of the island where they’ve been dredging the waterway. It’s this gray mud, like silt. On hot days, the guys jump into the mud because it’s cool.” He began chuckling, using his hands as he spoke. “Palmer was telling me they like to coat themselves up real good and play ding dong ditch.”
“What’s ding dong ditch?”
“It’s when they run around the neighborhood, ring the doorbells, and when someone comes to answer the door they scatter like palmetto bugs when the light goes on. The neighbors are starting to complain, by the way.”
“Palmer told you all this?” She couldn’t believe her son would confide anything in Stratton.
“Sure he did. I used to do stuff like that when I was his age. And here’s the thing,” he added, his humor fading from his voice and his face. “Them boys are half naked in that mudhole. And Cara’s been hanging out there, too.”
“She isn’t . . .” She stopped, remembering the conversation she’d overheard.
“She is. Palmer doesn’t want her hanging around him and his buddies all the time.”
“Why didn’t he say something to me?”
“Why don’t you ask him that? He probably doesn’t want to rat out his sister. But hell, Lovie, we all know she runs around the island like some wild Indian.” His face clouded and he lifted his hands in frustration. “I love her, she’s my little girl—and she’s not a great beauty.” He shook his head, seemingly at a loss. “But hell, Mama, she needs a woman’s firm hand to bring out her feminine side. Her birthday’s coming up. When Vivian comes out, maybe you can go into the city, take her to Elza’s on King Street. Spoil her a bit. Get her some proper fancy dresses and shoes. And white gloves. She might like that. Don’t all girls?”
Lovie knew Cara would hate it. And so would she. Shopping with Cara was a nightmare. She was in a stage that Lovie could only hope she’d outgrow. Nearly ten, Cara was a mulish shopper, not liking anything, especially anything her mother picked out, braying complaints, shooting daggers with her eyes, and shrugging her shoulders at every dress. Lovie looked at her husband’s tight-faced expression and thought Stratton and his daughter were cut from the same cloth but neither of them recognized it.
Yet her heart ached for her daughter as she thought of her trying to hang out at a boys’ mudhole. “Yes, all right. I’ll take her to Elza’s and a few other stores. We’ll make a day of it. Palmer will need some new clothes for high school, too. I guess they’re both growing up, aren’t they?”
“My point exactly.” He seemed relieved that Lovie got the message and this sensitive discussion had come to an end. He glanced at his watch. “Where’s this day going to? I’ve been here all morning, waiting to see you. I’ve missed you, Lovie.”
His tone was seductive, and his gaze slid to her breasts. Lovie tightened the towel around her and walked over to the bathroom, farther from him, to turn off the light.
“Did you know that the northern end of the island, where the forest is, has been sold?” she asked, distracting him.
“Really?” he said, his interest piqued. “No. I thought they were going to field offers.”
“Apparently they got an offer they couldn’t refuse,” she quipped, quoting from the popular new film The Godfather.
“Who from?”
“The Finch Corporation. They intend to build a tennis club and sell lots for hundreds of houses. I’ve heard as many as five to eight hundred. There’s talk of a marina, too. Maybe even a golf course.”
“No kidding?” He grinned. “That’s great. A deal like that will increase our land value. It’s about time somebody brought a high-class resort out here. That choice real estate was just sitting there, waiting to be grabbed. I wish it could’ve been me.”
“I’d hoped it would become a park. All that beautiful forest . . .”
“I wonder,” he said, ignoring her comment. “Maybe we should buy a lot or two when they come up. Get in early.”
“For an investment, you mean?”
“Of course.”
“I imagine they’ll go for a lot of money.”
“We could sell this place.”
“You’re joking, of course.”
“I don’t mean leave the Isle of Palms. We’d just sell this dump, then use the money to buy a lot or two.” His eyes gleamed with the scent of a new project. “We could build ourselves a brand-new home on the water, or maybe overlooking a golf course. Both, if we play our cards right. We could build that fancy new kitchen you’ve been wanting. And a room for Vivian. We wouldn’t have to squeeze in this place like sardines.”
Lovie felt a sudden cold and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “I’ll never sell this house.”
He frowned at her tone and waved his hand dismissively. “You’re just being emotional. You’d love the new house, too. It’d be bigger and better. And we’d be part of the golf club. You know it’ll be first-rate.”
“I don’t golf.”
“I do! You could learn. It’s something we could do together. Hey, aren’t you always complaining that we have nothing in common? That we don’t do anything together? Well . . .” He spread out his palms, letting his silence speak the obvious.
She shook her head sadly and turned away.
“Now what’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Lovie . . .” His tone was exasperated.
She turned, her eyes on the ground, feeling sadness well up in her. “You didn’t even ask what I was excited about.”
He sighed heavily, with exaggeration. “Let me guess. The turtles.”
She felt her enthusiasm die in her veins. “Yes.”
“What else? Lovie, it’s always the turtles.”
She lifted her gaze and saw her husband standing in front of her, impatience, perhaps even derision, shining in his eyes. With a sudden clarity that pierced her heart like a shard of ice, she realized that he didn’t want to hear about the Sea Turtle Project, nor did he care one whit that she’d moved a nest or carried in her palms her first sea turtle egg. These things just didn’t matter to him. Or, to be fair, they mattered to him as much as golf mattered to her.
Once they’d shared their interest in the great house on Tradd Street. Those had been some of the happiest days of her marriage. What a thrill it was to search for their first house together. Shoulder to shoulder, they went from house to house, room to room comparing notes. Once the purchase was made, however, the hunt was over for Stratton. He’d killed that project and was on to the next. It was up to her, the wife, to do the “fixings.”
“I’m getting cold,” she told him honestly. “Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll make you some lunch.”
He cast a crooked smile, one she knew so well and that made her muscles stiffen. “Well, since you’re taking off that towel . . .”
She stepped back, putting out her hands, not wanting at that moment to be touched. “Stratton, the children are right outside.”
“We’ll be quiet.”
“I’m tired,” she said, trying to step out of his grasp. “And the porch doors are open.”
“I’ll close them.” He plucked at the corner of her towel to let it fall from her body to the floor. His cool hands slid along her naked skin from her waist, up her arms, then down her back as his lips found her neck.
“Wait, wait,” she said, pushing him back. She went to the porch French doors and, reaching past the lace, closed them. Then she went to her bureau to retrieve her gin and tonic. She took a few good sips, feeling the coolness slide down her parched throat. A moment later, she welcomed the gin swimming in her veins.
Stratton was in his underwear and socks, having removed his pants. He was unbuttoning his shirt as he walked toward her.
Lovie closed her eyes and in a flash saw a tall, lean man in khaki pants, sandals, with his shirtsleeves rolled up over tan arms. She shook the image from her head just as she
felt Stratton’s heavy weight against her and they tumbled back upon the mattress.
Ten
Lovie rallied at the home front. After lunch, she packed a cooler and they all went to the beach for a family swim. She lay on her back, resting on her elbows under a big hat, and watched Stratton bodysurf with Palmer and Cara. Her husband lost his stiff town civility and became a fun-lovin’ Lowcountry boy out on the beach, the boy she’d fallen in love with. He needed to be here as much as the family needed him.
As the afternoon waned, Palmer headed north to the pier to see his surfing buddies and Stratton returned to the house to make a few phone calls. Lovie and Cara spent the remaining hours spread out on colorful towels and read novels, contented as cats.
When the girls returned to the beach house, Stratton had fired up the barbeque and was standing in front of it, nursing a beer and regaling Palmer with a speech about the art of barbeque being man’s work. Lovie enjoyed listening to the male voice out on the porch as she made potato salad, cold bean salad, and banana pudding. Cara, conveniently, had ducked out to Emmi’s house with a kiss and a promise to be back in an hour.
It was a relaxed evening, like old times. Without the pressures of Stratton’s job or the children’s school schedule, they sat around the table and talked about their favorite television shows—Palmer liked Hawaii Five-O, Cara preferred The Waltons; their favorite movies—Palmer and Cara both loved Blazing Saddles, Stratton preferred The Godfather, and Lovie claimed no movie would ever beat Gone with the Wind. She glanced at Stratton across the table, leaning back in his seat, slightly flushed from beer. He seemed so pleased to have the family together again and said so, many times.
Later that night, they made love again, with more tenderness than that morning. As she fell asleep, Lovie listened to the cicadas singing outside her window and prayed that they’d get through this rough patch they’d been stuck in and find their way back to love again.
The following morning, she rose as the first pink rays of dawn broke the darkness, dressed quietly in her shorts and team T-shirt, and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Even though it was Sunday, it was nonetheless a beach patrol morning. Turtles didn’t know what day of the week it was. She was luxuriating in sipping coffee and reading the Sunday newspaper in peace when the phone rang. She lurched to grab it at the first ring so no one would be awakened. She heard Russell’s familiar voice and, as luck would have it, there were no nests reported.
Beach House Memories Page 16