by Amy Reade
She and I and Cottontail set out early and headed straight for a park. We found White Point Garden, a small park right on the waterfront where we could explore together. There was a beautiful white gazebo there, as well as statues, lots of strong, ancient trees, Civil War sculptures, and a fountain. I had a hard time keeping Lucy dry and on solid ground once she got a look at the fountain. After spending some time at the park, I took Lucy’s stroller out of the car and I pushed her up Meeting Street at a leisurely pace, stopping when either one of us wanted to. We wandered in and out of shops and boutiques and even found a bookstore where we could curl up on a couch and read together. We thoroughly enjoyed our time sightseeing. As it got close to lunchtime, I was pushing her in the stroller down Broad Street when I was surprised to see Heath walking toward us. He was slowly leafing through a document and didn’t see us until he was quite nearby.
“Interesting reading, Heath?”
He looked up, startled. “Oh. Hi, Carleigh. Hi, Lucy. What are you two doing in town today?”
I explained about the leak at the nursery school and told him how we had spent our morning as Lucy complained about how hungry she was.
“I’m heading right over to that deli to grab lunch,” he said, pointing across the street. “Why don’t you join me?”
“I’m hungry now!” Lucy wailed.
I laughed. “Okay. We’ll come with you. If this child doesn’t eat soon, she might waste away.”
Heath grinned and the three of us made our way to the deli. Once we had ordered and found seats out on the sidewalk under a bright umbrella, our conversation turned to the places that Heath thought we should visit on our “day off.” Knowing I was interested in history and architecture, he suggested that we first visit Rainbow Row, a string of over a dozen colorful historic homes built on East Bay Street. He also insisted that we visit St. Michael’s Episcopal Church, not far from Rainbow Row, on the corner of Market and Meeting Streets. Built in the mid-1700s, Heath told me, it was the oldest church in Charleston and a National Historic Landmark. I listened as he discussed Charleston’s history and some of the buildings that I simply had to see while I stayed at Peppernell Manor. He was very knowledgeable and I wished he could spend the afternoon with us acting as our own personal tour guide.
As lunch came to a close and we sipped the last of our sweet tea, a woman walked by our table. She was very tall with jet-black hair that cascaded down her back. A striking white sheath dress and red high-heeled shoes showed off her olive skin and fabulous figure. Heath looked up at her and almost choked on his tea. The woman slowed down, staring at us, then smiled coyly at Heath, tossed her head, and walked on.
“Friend of yours?” I asked Heath.
“No,” he answered, the tone in his voice brooking no follow-up questions. He gathered up his papers. “I hate to cut this short, but I do have to get back to the office. Court at two o’clock,” he explained.
“No problem. See you later, and thanks for the history lesson and suggestions,” I told him.
Lucy walked for a short distance after lunch, but it wasn’t long before she started to get tired. I put her in the stroller and soon she was sound asleep. I was glad it was naptime, since I wanted to get a nice leisurely look at Rainbow Row and St. Michael’s. Lucy might have had other ideas if she had been awake.
I walked to St. Michael’s, where I was awed by the beauty and grace of the oldest church in Charleston, with its towering white spire, bright red doors, breathtaking stained glass, and ancient cemetery containing the graves of many historic figures from South Carolina, including two signers of the United States Constitution.
Then I wandered over to Rainbow Row, which I found easily. The street was like something out of a painting; indeed, I had seen many renderings of Rainbow Row in art gallery windows in Charleston. House after pastel house were delightful to see. I enjoyed the architecture and landscaping and the quaint atmosphere aided by antique lampposts, as well as the house markers that told some of the homes’ histories, such as the original owners and the year of construction. Eventually Lucy started to stir in her stroller, so I snapped a few more photos with my phone and we set off for an ice cream shop I had noticed nearby. Once we had eaten our fill of strawberry ice cream, Lucy and I went to one more playground before heading back to Peppernell Manor. It was a great day, and I was almost sorry to get a text that evening that the nursery school would be open the following day.
That night I told Evie about the prank phone call.
“You’re kidding,” she responded, mouth agape.
“I wouldn’t joke about that.”
“Who do you think it was?”
I sighed. “If I only knew, I wouldn’t worry so much about it.”
She seemed to brighten. “I’ll bet Daddy’s right. I’m sure it was just someone with nothing better to do than make prank calls.”
“But how did the person choose me? And how did they know I could be reached at your house?”
“People can get phone numbers anywhere these days. And there are lots of people who know you’re staying here. It could have been someone from one of the stores you’ve visited, or someone from Lucy’s school, or someone from back in Chicago. Anyone can fake a Southern accent. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
I hoped Evie was right.
I got right back to work the next morning. Having only to finish the plaster ceilings in the ballroom and sitting room on the first floor, I was excited to get past that phase of the work and begin the next phase, which would be the walls. The plasterer said I was doing a great job, and I was thrilled to be learning a new skill.
The two ceilings took several days of painstakingly intricate work, but I was very pleased with the result when it was finally done. The smooth white surface adorned with Greek key borders was beautiful, and the members of the family agreed.
“Carleigh, that ceiling is a work of art,” Cora-Camille gushed.
“It certainly is. In all my years here I’ve never seen the ceilings on the first floor look better,” Vivian agreed.
Graydon folded his arms over his chest. “Carleigh, honey, I’d say you’ve outdone yourself,” he boomed in that thick Southern drawl of his.
Evie beamed. “I told you she’d do a great job, didn’t I?”
But I couldn’t rest on my laurels for long. I needed to get started on the walls. The morning after I finished the ceilings, I dropped Lucy off at school and returned to Peppernell Manor to clean up all the materials I had been using and to disassemble the scaffold. I was done a little while before I had to pick Lucy up at school, so I decided to drive into Charleston to visit one of the paint stores I would be using. Ruby asked me if she could ride along, since she had to visit a baking supply store near my destination.
“Sure,” I told her. “I’d love the company.”
I tried to make small talk with Ruby in the car on the way into Charleston. She told me about a couple of new cake recipes that she wanted to try and asked me about the colors for the rooms downstairs in the manor.
“What color is the dining room going to be?”
“Cora-Camille said that the dining room used to be wallpapered,” I answered. “So we’ll try to find something that looks like the original paper, if we can find a sample of it, and go from there. If we can’t find something similar, we’ll use wallpaper that would have been popular during the mid-1800s.”
“What about the drawing room?”
“That’s going to be a coral color. Big rooms like that in plantation homes used to be painted bright, cheery colors. There’s some evidence that the drawing room used to be coral. Your mom and I are going to come up with a custom coral color.”
“That sounds pretty. What about the ballroom?”
“I don’t know yet what we’re doing with the ballroom. Cora-Camille decided she wants me to do the drawing room and dining room first. Then the entry hall, then the ballroom. I’m hoping to get those rooms done before Christmas because of t
he big party that Graydon and Vivian throw every year for the holiday.”
“That party is fun. The ballroom always looks beautiful.”
I smiled. “That’s what I’ve heard. It sounds wonderful.”
“Sarah was never invited to parties in the ballroom.”
Sarah again. I didn’t really know how to respond. Did Ruby believe in ghosts, too? “She wasn’t?”
“No. She was a house slave. House slaves were not allowed at parties, except to serve people.”
“Hmmm.”
“You haven’t met Sarah yet. She’s Phyllis’s great-great-great-great-great-grandmother,” Ruby noted, counting five “greats” on her fingers.
“She sounds interesting,” I commented. I didn’t know what else to say. After all, she was talking about a dead woman.
“She is.”
By that time we were at the baking supply store, so I let Ruby out and told her where I would be, just a few doors down the block. I watched Ruby as she, clad as usual in a pastel shirtwaist and a huge straw hat, entered the store with a big smile. I then drove to the paint store and parked outside.
I had to wait a short time for the owner to finish up with another customer. When it was my turn, I talked to her about paint colors and finishes, and we spoke at length about the paint color for the drawing room. We were engrossed in a number of books, flipping back and forth between books and pages and paint swatches, when Ruby came in.
“Hi, Ruby,” I greeted her. “I’m going to be a few more minutes. Do you want to have a seat and wait for me?” I looked at my watch. “Oh, wait. I have to run over and pick up Lucy from nursery school.” I turned to the shop owner. “Can we continue this in about fifteen minutes?”
“Of course,” she answered. I grabbed my car keys from the counter and started out the door, but Ruby touched my arm.
“I can go get Lucy,” she told me shyly. “I know right where her nursery school is.”
Ruby’s past struggles with anxiety sprang to mind, but then I thought of all the times she had been gentle and good to Lucy since we arrived at Peppernell Manor. I didn’t want her to think I didn’t trust her. I must have hesitated a moment too long, because she hastened to assure me, “I’m on the list of people who are allowed to pick her up, right? I’ll hold her hand and bring her back here.” She looked at me with pleading eyes and a hopeful smile.
“All right,” I decided. “I’ll be done soon, so you don’t even have to bring her back here. Just wait right outside the school and I’ll pick you up.”
“Okay.” She strode out the door, a woman with a purpose.
But I never should have let Ruby pick up my daughter.
CHAPTER 5
I left the paint store about ten minutes later, laden with paint swatches and books that I was borrowing from the shop owner. When I swung into a parking spot in front of the school, Lucy and Ruby were nowhere to be seen. I walked into the school, assuming that Lucy had insisted upon using the bathroom before going back to Peppernell Manor. She loved the nursery school bathrooms, with amenities sized just right for little girls and boys. But when I pushed open the bathroom door, all I heard was my voice echoing in the tiled room.
I hailed a teacher in one of the classrooms. “Have you seen Lucy?” I asked her. She sent me to the director, who was in the office.
“Ruby Peppernell picked up Lucy today,” she replied in answer to my question, scanning the day’s sign-out sheet. “She had identification and she is one of the people authorized to pick up Lucy. Aren’t they out front?”
“No,” I replied, swallowing hard. My voice and knees started to get a bit shaky. Why had I ever put Ruby’s name on that list? Why had I allowed her to get Lucy?
“Don’t worry. We’ll find them in a jiffy,” she assured me gently. She talked quietly to another teacher on our way out the door, and that teacher joined us, walking around the corner of the building when we got outside.
I was becoming frantic.
I started yelling, “Lucy! Ruby! Lucy!” The teachers soon joined in my shouts. But there was no response.
I needed to do more, faster. I said to the teachers, “You keep looking. I’m going to take the car and start driving up and down the streets nearby. They can’t have gotten very far.”
The teachers agreed and I sprinted to my car. I gunned the engine and pulled out of my spot with squealing tires. I drove quickly up the block, then turned and slowed down to search both sides of the street for my missing daughter and Ruby. Tears were blurring my vision and I had to keep wiping my eyes with my T-shirt. I was yelling for Lucy and Ruby out the open window, but hearing nothing. Passersby looked at me as if I was crazy, but I kept shouting.
I swung the car into a parking lot to turn around when from a half-block away I saw a woman wearing a large straw hat walking through a wrought-iron gate. I raced forward in the car only to see the woman disappearing into a house. I was trying to decide whether I should knock on the door to the home when I saw another woman walking up ahead. She too was wearing a large straw hat. I drove forward and sobbed with relief when I saw that it was indeed Ruby. She was holding Lucy’s hand. Both had ice cream cones. I screeched to a halt.
“Lucy!” I screamed. My daughter turned around. She waved. “Hi, Mama!”
I choked on my tears as I dropped to my knees and hugged Lucy fiercely. She was bewildered.
“Mama, why are you crying?” she asked, clearly alarmed.
“I couldn’t find you,” I sniffled.
Ruby looked on, her face becoming red. “It was my fault, Miss Carleigh. I thought we might have time to get ice cream before you came to pick us up.”
I looked at her angrily. “I told you to wait for me outside the school!” The tears started again. “Didn’t you realize how terrified I would be?” I screeched at her.
Then Ruby started to cry. People were watching. I didn’t care. “Get in the car,” I ordered her. I strapped Lucy into the back and returned to the nursery school. While Ruby and Lucy waited in the car, I went and explained to the teachers, who were still outside looking and yelling, that I had found them and that we were going back to Peppernell Manor. I also asked them to remove Ruby’s name from the list of people authorized to pick up Lucy.
Ruby cried all the way back to Peppernell Manor. I didn’t speak to her. I didn’t try to make her feel better. I wanted her to experience some of the pain I had just felt. It didn’t take long for Lucy to start crying, too. She was obviously upset by the tension in the car, and I waited until we were in our room in Peppernell Manor to explain why I was angry at Ruby.
“I told Ruby to wait for me outside your school. She was not allowed to take you for ice cream,” I explained. “I do not want you to go alone with Ruby anymore.”
“But I love Ruby!” Lucy wailed.
“You can still play with Ruby, but you have to stay in the house with her. You can’t go anywhere with Ruby unless I am with you. Do you understand?”
She nodded mutely.
I left her in our room to rest while I went in search of Ruby. I had calmed down considerably and I wanted to talk to her about her mistake.
I found her in the kitchen, furiously kneading bread dough. “Ruby, can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked softly.
She shook her head.
“Please listen to me, Ruby,” I urged. “I’ve had a chance to calm down and I want to talk to you.”
She sighed. “Okay.” She stopped kneading for a moment.
“Do you understand why I was so upset?” I asked her.
“Yes. I shouldn’t have taken Lucy out for ice cream. But I thought she would love it.”
“I don’t mind if Lucy has ice cream. That’s not the issue. I was upset because I couldn’t find her. Or you. I asked you to wait outside the nursery school for me and you didn’t. I didn’t know where you had gone and I was very worried.”
She hung her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I know you are,” I told her gen
tly. “I know you’ll never do it again.”
“I won’t,” she assured me.
“Friends again?” I asked with a smile.
“Yes,” she answered, her eyes downcast. I left the kitchen as she got back to her bread-making. I wasn’t ready to get back to work, so I asked Evie to keep an eye on Lucy, then I wandered outside. The shadows were lengthening as the sun sank lower in the sky. I let my feet take me where they wanted; they led me to the quiet of the woods and the old slave cabins. I pushed open a creaky door and stepped gingerly into the first cabin. It smelled musty, like wet earth and mildew. The walls were made of horizontal wooden slats; thin ribbons of light peered through the cracks between the boards. A few pieces of paper fluttered from the walls. The room was divided in half by a brick fireplace. Small heaps of leaves and other detritus littered the corners and from one of the piles there came a small rustling sound. I had apparently disturbed a mouse’s peace. A few lopsided hooks hung on the walls and one hook hung on each side of the fireplace. Probably for hanging cooking utensils, I thought.
A knock sounded softly behind me. I turned to see Phyllis step into the cabin. I was surprised to see her.
“Hi, Phyllis,” I greeted her.
“I saw you come out here,” she answered. “Sarah does not like this place to be disturbed.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that. I just wanted a look inside. I was thinking about how I would love to restore these cabins.”
She stared at me, mouth agape. “How could you even think about restoring these homes?” she asked angrily.
I blinked in surprise. “I thought you’d like to see them as they would have been in the mid-nineteenth century.”
“Do you know the heartbreak that took place in these homes?”