by Vivian Wood
Thank God he is here. She’d figured that by now he wouldn’t stick around for these walk-throughs and consultations. It had been a few days since their near kiss, and the tension between them was intense. But day after day he kept hanging around while she took care of items related to the property. Craig had even mistaken him for her boyfriend.
On the walk back to the plane, she tried to push the memory out of her head and focus on the house. What is the point in dwelling on it? She didn’t question its validity. She knew what she’d seen and was confident in her assumptions of why they’d never returned—and why she’d never had contact with her dad’s family.
Instead, she tried to focus on the project at hand, secure with Alex’s arm around her shoulder. The reality of the renovation work began to really sink in. Craig told her it would take at least eight weeks to complete, and that was assuming no bumps. “But there’re always bumps,” he’d cautioned with a laugh.
“I can’t believe I’ve been here two weeks already,” she told Alex. The change of topic was awkward, but he went along with it.
“Time flies,” he said.
“I told Mae—er, Mama—that it would just be a couple of weeks. But with what Craig said about the project, I don’t know. I think I’ll need to talk to her about staying a month.”
“A month?” he asked. He stopped so fast she nearly ran into him.
“At least,” she said. “I don’t know. With how things are sounding, it might be a whole summer here.”
Alex didn’t reply but did continue to walk. She couldn’t tell if he was upset about it, happy, or something else. But he certainly didn’t return his arm to her shoulder.
“So yeah. I’m hoping to go into town tomorrow and start looking at flooring. Maybe check out the door and window shop Craig was talking about.”
Alex didn’t say anything, and she gave up. There was only so long she could force a one-sided conversation. They climbed into the plane and spent the short flight back in silence. By now, Faith could recognize a lot of the landmarks with new adult eyes.
Faith stole glances at him out of the corner of her eye. Even with his quietness today, it seemed like he’d warmed up to her in the past couple of days. Or maybe she’d imagined it all. Or maybe he just felt sorry for me when I realized my dad was screwing his sister.
Faith focused on the confidence he showcased while he expertly maneuvered the plane. She’d toyed with the idea of getting a pilot’s license but hadn’t gone beyond an orientation course. It had been on a whim, an effort to get rid of a lingering fear of flying.
Her heart no longer banged away in her chest when he landed the plane. When did I get used to this? Taking little planes to tiny islands off other islands? It had only been a few days, but she’d surprised herself by how easily she’d settled in. Natalie couldn’t understand how Faith wasn’t bored out of her mind, and she couldn’t explain it, either. Every time she got an email from the firm, she dreaded it. How easily she could just leave her life in California behind amazed her.
“What’s for dinner tonight?” Alex asked her as she helped him pull the canvas cover over the plane.
“Gwen didn’t say this morning,” Faith said. “And I’m not sure if I’ll even make it down. I’m exhausted.”
“Renovating a plantation is tough work,” Alex said. He tightened up the cables.
“I bet. And I’m not even the one actually doing it.”
“What kind of flooring you got in mind?” he asked as they began the walk to the inn. Is he actually taking an interest in the project? Or just trying to keep my mind off what I’d remembered?
“I don’t know. Wood, definitely, but I’m torn between a nice, rich dark or a lighter, walnut-colored one. Wide planks, either way. What do you think?”
He shrugged. “Wood’s wood, if you’re just talking about the stain. But given the temperature and humidity here, I’d go with an oak.”
“Oak?” she asked.
“Or something else native. Something that’s meant to be here. And doesn’t have to adjust. Of course, any good contractor would let the planks sit a few days anyway.”
She nodded as if she’d thought of all that herself. “And as for the doors and windows, I don’t know. Obviously it would be best to go with the most energy efficient possible in the long run, but that’ll really add up. And this whole project is already costing way more than I expected.”
“Houses always do,” he said. She tripped over a root that shot up out of the sandy trail, and he caught her arm.
“Careful,” he said. She blushed and let go of his hand.
“Maybe I should start watching some of those HGTV shows,” she said.
“What now?”
“You know. The home and garden channel.”
“That magazine has a whole channel now?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. One of my roommates back in law school was totally addicted to it. I didn’t get it at the time, but I do now. I just wish all of that secondhand television forced onto me had actually sunk in.”
He shook his head. “You start watching all that, and you’ll be more confused than you are now. If I were you, I’d trust Craig to make most of the selections. He knows what does well here, what looks good, and what’s high quality.”
“You don’t think it would be fun?” she asked as she looked up at him. “Picking everything out, making all the choices—”
“Nah,” he said. “It’s like planning a wedding. It might sound fun at first, but as soon as you get into it . . .”
He trailed off, and she didn’t want to push. Every time he mentioned Rebecca, she felt like she saw the pain fresh all over again. “Maybe you’re right,” she said. “Besides, I didn’t come all the way here to spend my time streaming television.”
“Streaming?”
She shook her head. “Never mind.”
Alex took off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through his thick hair. Faith could watch his hands all day. They were perfect, though she’d never fancied herself a “hand girl” before. But Alex’s were big with thick fingers that looked just as adept at manual labor as a roll in the sheets. She blushed at the thought but couldn’t help herself. She imagined, if she could ever explore them, that they would have just a few calluses. Enough for a touch of roughness without it being too much.
“Yeah?” Alex asked. She realized he’d caught her staring at him.
“Nothing,” she said and looked away. “It’s just you keep your nails really clean. For, you know, a guy who works on planes.”
He gave a short laugh. It was so rare that it sounded delightfully foreign. “You’re judging my fingernails?”
“Don’t worry. You passed,” she teased. “Women look at these things, you know.”
“Good to know.”
Mama was sitting with Lee on the front porch as they approached, a pitcher of sweet tea between them. “Y’all have a productive day?” Mama asked.
“As productive as it can be when you’re basically building a home from scratch,” Alex said. She shot him a thankful look, being glad that she wouldn’t have to make house-related pleasantries with Mama.
“That place has good bones,” Lee said. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. A hand that was nothing like Alex’s.
“And how would you know?” Alex asked. Lee just shrugged.
“Boys,” Mama said. “I swear, they can be like a couple o’ cats in a duffel bag.”
Faith smiled at Mama, impeccably dressed as always. She wore cream linen wide-legged trousers, a perfectly pressed turquoise silk blouse, and matching jeweled sandals. “Got any more sweet tea?” Faith asked. It was strange how she’d come to crave it every evening. But something about that sugar rush was irresistible.
“I’ll go grab you a glass,” Mama said and started to get up.
“No!” Faith said with a laugh. “I’ll get it, I know where they are.”
She listened to the three of them talk as she pulled one of Mama�
��s tea glasses with the lemons etched into it out of the cupboard. Gwen was nowhere in sight, but she could smell her signature pork and beans as they simmered on the stovetop. This is how life could be. It’s how it is for some people, she thought.
On the porch, she downed a glass of the sweet tea and felt a new wave of exhaustion wash over her. “You tired, baby?” Mama asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “I don’t know. The worrying about finishing the house, being out there in the heat all day. It feels like I ran a marathon.”
“Well, I wouldn’t know how that feels,” Mama said. “A lady shouldn’t run, let alone run twenty-something miles. But I know how tiring it can be to manage a house being renovated. Why don’t you go on and take a rest? Gwen can bring you up something.”
“Actually, I think I might just make something light and hit the hay early tonight.” Hit the hay? When did I start talking like that?
“You sure, baby?” Mama asked. “Gwen picked up some great pork cuts this afternoon. There’s some extra in the fridge if you want.”
“Thanks,” Faith said with a tired smile. “Well, good night, y’all.”
“Night,” Lee said softly over his shoulder. He still looked at her from time to time as though he had a schoolboy crush on her, but it was lessening. And now that she knew about what had happened with Alex, Lee, and Rebecca, when Lee looked at her like that it made her nervous. Mama offered up her signature megawatt smile. But Alex barely glanced at her. He gave a slight nod in her direction but continued to stare into the horizon.
Faith slathered some mustard onto the home-baked bread Gwen and Mama prepared nearly every morning. It was crusty yet soft on the inside—the kind of bread she paid six dollars a loaf for at the upscale market on the way home from the firm.
She shook her head and laughed at the insanity of it. Who paid six dollars for bread? And it had nothing on what she’d become accustomed to on Saint Rose. Mama hadn’t been wrong about the pork. It was thick, juicy, and smelled heavenly. Faith layered it with the local cheese Mama picked up regularly from the dairy farm in Savannah and stuffed lettuce leaves from Greystone’s little vegetable garden into it. Now this was living.
Upstairs, Faith slipped into her satin pajama shorts and tank top before she washed her face. She looked dog-tired in the mirror and barely had enough energy to plait her hair. After she spread moisturizer on her face, she perched on the edge of her bed and tore into the sandwich while her laptop booted up.
There was an email from the firm, but she could tell by the subject line it was just a checking-in email. Thank God, she thought as she archived it. A bunch of spam, a cursory summer letter from her aunt, probably with updates on all her cousins’ accomplishments, and an automated message from the dating site Natalie had made her sign up for six months ago.
“We miss you!” the subject line read. She groaned and almost deleted it. At the last minute, she clicked it open, scrolled down and unsubscribed. The last thing I need is a reminder of just how single I am.
Although she didn’t have any emails from any genealogy forums, she logged into the forums just in case. Nobody had responded directly to her. Of course.
She’d polished off the sandwich in record time. Faith closed the laptop and returned to the bathroom. Flossing can wait till tomorrow, she thought as she performed a cursory tooth brushing. As she watched herself in the mirror, she scrunched up her nose and turned from side to side. What is it with Alex? she wondered. She was cute, right? Why was he so freaking standoffish?
“Stop thinking about him, Faith,” she told herself as she climbed into bed. She didn’t even have the energy to set an alarm before sleep claimed her.
Chapter 15
Faith
She’d been dreaming of the sandbar, of Alex’s bare and muscled back, when the crash came. The sound of glass as it shattered all around her made Faith jump. She was confused, and the big bedroom seemed wildly foreign. Where am I?
The wispy curtains flailed on the other side of the nightstand. She peered over the bed and saw a dangerous jigsaw of broken glass on the dark wooden floors. It wasn’t the safety glass she was used to, the kind she’d hoped to shop for soon. The pieces were big, and the edges dangerously sharp. What the hell?
Faith eased her legs over the edge of the bed so she could toe her flip-flops closer. The rubber soles crunched across the glass as she looked out the window to see a fist-size stone headed straight toward her. Shit. She ducked just in time. The stone flew silently into her bedroom to hit the dresser at the far end of the wall with a thump.
She crouched as low as she could and made her way to the hall. As she scurried downstairs, she saw a light on in the kitchen and the sound of a shotgun being cocked. It sounded just like it did in the movies.
“Faith!” Mama hissed under her breath. The older woman was hidden behind the table in the formal dining room, shotgun at the ready.
“What’s going on?” Faith asked in a whisper, but Mama just held one finger to her lips.
Mama took Faith’s wrist and pulled her down beside her. “Don’t worry,” she said. “These hooligans are about to be scared off real good.”
“But who are they?” Faith asked. Mama just shook her head and listened.
Faith’s heart thumped like crazy, loud enough that the blood that rushed through her head was deafening. Soon enough, male voices could be heard on the patio. Their boots were heavy on the planks. There was no reason for them to be quiet.
Mama rose to her knees and angled the shotgun through the narrow window opening that led directly to the patio. Faith couldn’t make out what the men murmured, but one of them let out a low chuckle. Mama fired a shot that rang in Faith’s ears. By the time her hearing returned to somewhat normal, she could still hear the men swearing.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” one yelled. His voice seemed much farther away.
“Did you . . . did you hit him?” Faith asked. Her own voice sounded funny. It trembled in a way she’d never heard before.
“Of course not!” Mama said. “Just scared ʼem off.”
“Oh thank God,” Faith said, though she didn’t know why. Wouldn’t it be better if they had been shot?
“Honey,” Mama said as she lowered the gun to her lap, “if I wanted to hit ʼem, I would’ve.”
In the distance, they heard an engine roar to life. Headlights flooded the living room. Faith saw that Mama still wore her nightly white face cream and a carefully buttoned-up pajama gown. Pink spongy curlers were in her hair. Even through the craziness of the night, Faith had to stifle a laugh. There was something too contradictory about seemingly sweet Mama cradling a smoking shotgun across her legs.
“Mama?” Caleb’s voice hollered through the house. “Mama? Faith?”
“In here, honey,” Mama said. She stood up as the tires outside squealed away. It took Faith a minute to realize Mama held out her hand to help her up. She felt like an outsider, a big-city outsider, to accept the hand, but it was her only choice. Her legs felt like Jell-O, and she immediately looked outside. “They’re gone, baby,” Mama said with oceans of comfort in her voice.
“Long gone,” Caleb agreed. “Thanks to Mama’s eagle-eyed shot.”
“It was nothing,” Mama said. She engaged the safety and put the gun on the dining table.
“What the hell is that?” Lee asked as he came into the room. He stared out the window into the front yard.
“What in the Lord . . .”
Mama squinted and pulled the window up. “Oh my . . .”
Faith, Mama, Caleb, Lee, and Matt rushed outside to the fire. “What the fuck?” Matt said under his breath.
“Language,” Mama said automatically, but nobody listened. Perched on the front lawn was a burning cross at least seven feet tall. It was nothing like the modest nod to the Christian upbringing Mama had originally installed on the property, right alongside the American flag. This one was big and mean—and burning bright with gasoline. Throughout the yard and into th
e flower garden, little sparks of flames popped up everywhere.
A flash of yellow appeared in the distance. Faith made out Alex’s shape jogging toward them. “Hey!” he yelled. “What’s going on?”
“I have no idea,” Mama said quietly. However, it only took her a moment to take charge. “Caleb, Lee, y’all get to puttin’ this out. Grab the hose. Matt, take a look around, but be careful, baby. Make sure there’s nothing round here that can catch fire. Put out what little flames you can with them blankets in the bed of Lee’s truck.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and started to circle the cross.
“What’s going on?” Alex asked again as he reached them.
“Some no-good intruders, that’s what,” Mama said. “And burning up my rose garden like this! What nerve.”
“Mama?” Matt asked as he approached them.
“What? You find something, baby?”
“Well, maybe not what you were looking for,” Matt said. “But, uh, you need to take a look at this.”
“What . . . what is this?” Mama asked. They walked carefully around the little clumps of flames in the grass and the rich garden soil.
“You gotta see it from here,” Matt said. He took Mama’s elbow and directed her away from the house.
Faith and Alex followed in silence. She didn’t realize how heavy her breath was until Alex put a hand on her lower back to calm her.
“What in the . . .”
Mama was speechless. They all were. Facing the house, thirty feet away from the porch, the flames crudely spelled out a warning. LAST CHANCE BITCH was emblazoned in the yard.
Faith’s hand shot to her mouth in shock. Last chance? And the cross? She wasn’t sure how, but she knew those big burning crosses were a KKK symbol. Or was it just an homage to Mama’s little cross they’d burned earlier? “This makes no sense,” she said.
“Honey, there’s nothin’ these lunatics do gonna make any sense,” Mama said. She sighed. “And they had to go and ruin a full season’s worth of planting.”
“But, I mean, clearly this is for me,” Faith said. “And the whole KKK thing, the race thing, I don’t get it.”