“But they’ll bring her back, won’t they?” Varina asked anxiously.
“Yes, I understand those were her wishes,” Gabe said.
“Auntie Vee, you need to eat some lunch before we get on the ferry so your blood sugar doesn’t get too low,” Felicia said.
“I got her a nice sandwich right here,” Louette said, sliding a plate of food in front of Varina.
“She’s all the time fussing over me,” Varina told Marie. “Does Brooke fuss at you like that?”
“Usually not,” Marie said. “More likely I’m fussing at her.”
“What time does that ferry leave?” Varina asked, nibbling on her sandwich.
“Not ’til two, so you’ve got plenty of time to eat,” Louette said.
“Then maybe Shug will take us by the old place at Oyster Bluff first.” Varina looked across the table at Brooke. “Have you been over to Oyster Bluff yet?”
“No, ma’am,” Brooke said. “I’ve heard a lot about it, though.”
“I’d love to see it,” Lizzie said. “Research for my magazine article. What is this Oyster Bluff place?”
“It’s my home. Where my people have always lived,” Varina said, her voice quivering slightly. “Where I’m going to stay, ’til the good Lord decides to take me.”
“Maybe someday,” Felicia said with a vague smile.
“Not someday. This day,” Varina said, her face serene. “I was reading my Bible just now, and the scripture spoke to me, clear as a bell. Isaiah. This island here is my home, where I am fixing to stay until such time as my Father takes me to his home.”
“Now, Auntie, we have talked about this,” Felicia said. “You’re living with me now, because the doctors say you’ve got to have somebody to make sure you eat and take your medicine.”
Varina nodded and ignored her great-niece. “Louette, could you please ask Shug to ride us over to Oyster Bluff in that fancy new truck of his before these ladies need to take the ferry back?”
Louette reached for the phone. “I’ll call him right now.”
* * *
Shug turned off the paved main road onto a wide shell road. Varina was propped up next to him, and Brooke sat by the window. Lizzie, Marie, and a grumbling Felicia sat in the second row of cab seats.
Varina pointed to a wide, weedy pasture area surrounded by cypress and oak trees. A pair of rusted-out trucks were parked at the edge of the field along with a tractor that leaned crazily on rotted tires. “That there is part of the old plantation, where they grew cotton and sugarcane. It was way before my time, of course, but my grandmama used to talk about working in that field.”
“What was the plantation called?” Lizzie asked from the backseat. “Did the Bettendorfs own it?”
“Oh no. Mr. Samuel didn’t buy the island until long after plantation times.” Varina turned to her great-niece. “What did they call that place, honey?”
“Friendship,” Felicia said. “Great name for a business that bought and sold slaves, don’t you think?”
Shug turned the truck in a wide arc around the pasture, and in half a mile the small community came into view. A hand-painted sign tacked to a tree proclaimed, “Historic Oyster Bluff. Pop. 45.”
“More like twenty. Or twenty-five on a good day,” he observed. He slowed the truck over the rutted dirt road as two chickens raced across it. Varina pointed to a long, low, wood-frame building with a rusted tin roof. Six or seven junked cars were parked haphazardly in the crushed-shell parking lot, their hoods up, weeds growing out from broken windshields.
“What’s up with all the abandoned cars?” Lizzie asked.
“Costs fifty dollars to barge a vehicle back over to the mainland,” Shug said. “If it can’t be fixed, that car dies right here.”
“That’s the old commissary,” Varina said, pointing to the building. “Back when I was a child, Mr. Samuel paid all his people in script we called ‘Bettendorf Bucks.’ You could use it like money to buy whatever you needed. We didn’t need much back then. Everybody had a garden, and we fished in the creek, raked oysters. My daddy knew how to knit a cast net, so we had as much shrimp as we wanted. There’s wild cows on the island, and every year, my daddy and brothers would catch one, fatten him up, and then butcher it. They hunted too; deer and hogs and turkey and dove. But it was a big treat when I used to take my little bit of money to the commissary and buy candy and Coca-Colas.”
“One of Louette’s cousins runs it now, we just call it the Store,” Shug said. “It ain’t open except Thursday through Sunday, and that’s only if he’s sober and out of jail.”
He turned down another lane and pointed proudly to a snug cottage with a wide front porch that looked out onto the marsh. Baskets of ferns and geraniums hung from the ceiling beams, and a carport housed another car and a golf cart.
“That’s our place. I built that front porch so we can sit out there and watch the sunset. Got me a deck on the back where I do my grilling. Louette wants me to put in a new kitchen, but we were waiting to see if Miss Josephine was gonna let us buy the place back before we put any more money in it.” His shoulders sagged, and he passed a hand over his jaw. “Don’t know what will happen now.”
The truck rolled slowly down the road, passing half a dozen small homes in various states of disrepair, while Varina provided a running commentary of residents past and present. “That’s the Johnsons, but I think they all moved off. That there was where the preacher used to live. This house right here is where my best little friend Marjean lived. Her mama was real sweet to me, because I didn’t have a mama of my own. Miss Stokes had the best garden on this whole island. Grew the sweetest corn and the prettiest flowers you ever saw.”
“How’d she keep the deer and hogs from eating everything up?” Shug asked.
“Ooh, she had her a stout wooden fence all around that garden plot, and she had a big mean dog, Mitzi, would scare anything away that came near,” Varina said, laughing.
* * *
Shug pulled the truck in front of a small wooden tin-roofed cottage. Faded green paint peeked from behind thickly festooned vines that threatened to swallow the house whole. The front porch columns were whitewashed tree trunks, and the windows on either side of the front door were boarded up with plywood.
“This is my house,” Varina said, her eyes glowing with pride. “My daddy built it with his own two hands. He cut the trees down and milled the planks right here on this island. Mr. Samuel counted on my daddy. He sold him the land for our house, and I been keeping up with the taxes all this time.”
“It must be a really special place for you,” Marie said from the backseat.
“It’s adorable,” Lizzie said, peering out the window at the cottage. “It’s like one of those tiny houses they show on HGTV. I wish I could move in here myself.”
Felicia glared at Lizzie and silently mouthed the word, “Nooooo.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Varina said. “And now I’m fixing to move right back home.”
“Here?” Felicia’s voice was panicky. “I know it’s special, but look at this place, Auntie. It’s falling down.”
“Then I’ll fix it back up.” Varina patted Shug’s arm. “This man here can do anything. You’ll help me, won’t you, baby?”
“Why not?” He opened the door and planted one boot onto the weedy yard and appraised the house with a thoughtful eye. “This house has been standing all this time, so it must be sound. Gonna need a new roof, though.”
“You can’t stay here,” Felicia insisted. “Does it even have plumbing? Or electricity? Tell her, Shug.”
“It actually does have plumbing. And electricity, although we probably need to update the panel. Homer was living here until he got too sick and moved over to hospice. It hasn’t been empty but a couple of years.”
“Okay, but it’s gonna need a lot of work before it’s even remotely habitable. It’ll probably take months and months. And where will you stay in the meantime? You can’t get up and down the stairs at Josephine�
��s house.”
“Plenty of room at our place,” Shug said. “The kids and grandkids hardly come over at all anymore ’cause they’ve got sports and all that. Louette’s gonna be getting lonesome without having Josephine to look after and cook for.”
“Oh no, we couldn’t put you out,” Felicia started.
“We got two guest rooms. Plenty of room for both of y’all,” Shug said.
“Thank you, baby,” Varina said, beaming at her benefactor.
“Auntie, that’s just not possible,” Felicia said. “It’s sweet of Shug to offer, but I’m your caregiver, and I have to work.”
Varina’s jaw set stubbornly. “Didn’t you tell me you do all your teaching on a computer now? And don’t they have computers and all that here on Talisa?”
“Yes, ma’am, we got Wi-Fi here,” Shug said. “Me and Louette FaceTime the grandkids all the time on our computer.”
“See that?” Varina nodded enthusiastically. “So it’s all set, then. We can go on back to Jacksonville today and pack up our stuff and then be back for the morning ferry. Isn’t that a blessing?”
Lizzie grinned and poked Felicia in the ribs. “Sounds like a blessing to me.”
42
The ferry was waiting at the dock, along with a crowd of three dozen passengers—campers, day-trippers, and a group of middle-aged bird-watchers bristling with cameras, binoculars, and backpacks. Brooke was surprised to see just how large the ferry was, a gleaming white affair with two observation decks, with the name painted in large letters across the stern: The Miss Elsie Bettendorf.
“I wonder if that was Josephine’s mother,” Marie said as the group approached the boarding dock.
“That’s right. Miss Elsie was Josephine’s mama,” Varina said, coming slowly up beside them. “Those state people thought they were buttering Josephine up, naming the ferry after Miss Elsie, but that made her madder than a mule with a mouthful of bumblebees. She wrote all kind of letters trying to make them change the name, but it was too late. She wouldn’t even get near this new ferry, no matter what.”
“I guess it’s a good thing Josephine’s not still alive to know that her final trip across the river was on The Miss Elsie,” Felicia said.
“Ooh, child,” Varina said, chuckling despite herself. “She’d come back and haunt us all.”
* * *
They found an empty row of shaded wooden seats on the first deck.
“Remind me why you’re going back across to the mainland, since you’re staying on at Shellhaven?” Felicia asked Lizzie.
“Supplies,” Lizzie said, ticking off her list. “Cat food for Dweezil, a few more clothes, including a bathing suit, since I only packed enough stuff for the weekend, white wine, tequila, Xanax … just the basics.”
Felicia cocked her head and regarded Lizzie with real interest. “So you’re going to write a magazine article about Josephine and Talisa? Seriously? Who’d want to read about some backwater island in the middle of nowhere?”
“Who wouldn’t? This story has more turns and twists than a daytime soap opera, but the best part is, it’s all true. Just look at the latest development: this C. D. character coming to Brooke and Gabe this morning to say that he’s Josephine’s long-lost son and only living heir. How surreal is that?”
“Oh, please,” Felicia said with a snort. “If he’s kin to Josephine, I’m Diana Ross.”
“What did you just say?” Varina leaned forward from her seat next to Felicia to face Lizzie. “Who’s kin to who?”
Lizzie raised her voice and enunciated slowly. “I said C. D. is now claiming to be Josephine’s son.”
Varina’s eyes behind her thick-lensed glasses widened. “Oh no. That can’t be right. That boy is crazy. What’s he saying that for?”
“Easy. For the money,” Felicia said, frowning. “He wants to inherit the house, the island, Josephine’s money, all of it.” She glared in Gabe’s direction. “Just because somebody didn’t get her will signed and witnessed before she died.”
Gabe flushed slightly but said nothing.
“Brooke, Mr. Gabe, did that man really say Josephine was his mama?” Varina asked.
“That’s his story,” Brooke said. “It’s kind of complicated, but in a nutshell, C. D. says he believes that Josephine abandoned him as an infant—left him in a church in Savannah. The church turned him over to a Catholic orphanage there, and they, in turn, placed him in Good Shepherd Home for Boys, where he lived until he ran away at sixteen.”
“No, no, no,” Varina insisted. She clenched the wooden bench slats with both hands. “That’s not true. It can’t be true. I would have known.” She continued, shaking her head, “How old is that man?”
“He told me this weekend that he’s seventy-six. Born in ’42, I think he said.”
Varina’s forehead puckered in distress.“See, that’s a lie. No, ma’am. Josephine never had no baby, never. I would have known if she’d had a child. She didn’t even meet Mr. Preiss until the war was over.”
“His story is pretty far-fetched,” Marie said gently, “but isn’t it just possible that since Josephine was unmarried, she would have kept her pregnancy a secret because of the scandal? She could have told you and everybody else that she was going away to ‘visit family.’ That’s what young girls did back then. At one time, there was even a home for unwed mothers, The Florence Crittenton home, just a few blocks from my house in Ardsley Park, where girls went to have their babies. Afterward, the babies were adopted and the girls went back home and nobody was any wiser.”
“I don’t care. It’s a lie. That man is telling a lie,” Varina said angrily.
Lizzie leaned back and stretched and yawned. “I think I’ll see about renting a car. That way I can shoot up to Savannah this week to try to verify C. D.’s story.”
Gabe reached into his pocket and brought out a plastic bag containing two smaller plastic bags.
“You can double-check his story if you like. I think it’s a good idea. But in the meantime, I took the liberty of getting Louette to collect some of Josephine’s hair from her hairbrush. And I paid a visit to C. D., who, after some persuading, donated a bit of that ponytail of his.”
“Hair?” Varina wrinkled her nose. “What are you gonna do with that?”
“It’s for DNA testing, Auntie,” Felicia said.
“I’ll send it off to a testing laboratory, and they should be able to tell us whether or not C. D. is related to Josephine,” Gabe explained.
“I don’t need a bag of hair to tell you that,” Varina said. “Because that man is definitely no kin to Josephine Warrick.” Her hands shook slightly as she gesticulated.
Felicia placed a hand on her aunt’s arm. “Auntie, I think we need to test your blood sugar and see if it’s time for your meds. Let’s go to the ladies’ room. Okay?”
The old woman was still muttering under her breath as her great-niece helped her to her feet and they began making their laborious way to the ferry’s restroom.
* * *
After the ferry landed and their group had disembarked, Brooke motioned for Lizzie to follow them to her car. “I don’t think you’ll be able to rent a car in St. Ann’s. We might need to take you to Brunswick to the airport for that.”
“I’m headed back to St. Simon’s, so Brunswick is on my way, and I’m happy to give you a ride,” Gabe said.
“Fine with me,” Lizzie said. She turned and watched as Felicia tried to juggle two overnight bags and Varina. “Let me go see if I can give those two a hand.”
“You’re not going back to Savannah?” Brooke asked Gabe.
“No, I want to get to the courthouse here first thing tomorrow to petition the court to become administrator of Josephine’s estate.”
“I need to figure out what my next move is too. Josephine paid me a retainer, and I need to make a good-faith effort to follow through and stop the state from taking her land.”
“Your client is dead,” Gabe said. “Your obligation to her has expired. I
suppose you can raise the matter with her heirs, when and if we track them down, or learn the truth about C. D.’s claim.” He leaned in closer to her, his voice low in her ear. “Have dinner with me tonight, Brooke. Please?”
“Tonight? I can’t, Gabe. I haven’t seen Henry in two days. I’m already feeling guilty about leaving him with Farrah for this long. Maybe we can catch up tomorrow, after you make your filing? We can compare notes.”
He sighed. “Okay, if lunch is all you can do. But, Brooke, I didn’t mean for this to be a business meeting.” He searched her face for a reaction.
Her face grew hot, and she could feel herself blushing.
“Never mind,” he said quickly. “Call me tomorrow if you want, and we can meet. Strictly professional if that’s how you want it.”
He turned and walked hurriedly toward his car.
43
Marie waited until they were in the car. “What was that all about?”
“What?” Brooke felt heat creeping up from her collarbone.
“That whispered conference back there with Gabe.”
“Oh, you know, just legal stuff. He’s going to stay over at Sea Island tonight so he can be at the courthouse here first thing in the morning to petition to become administrator of Josephine’s estate.”
“This is your mother, Brooke. I know something else was going on back there.”
Brooke sighed. “I think maybe Gabe just asked me out on a date.”
“Maybe? You’re not sure?”
“Okay, so yes, he asked me to dinner. But I totally blew it and embarrassed both of us.”
“What did you say?”
“The first thing that occurred to me. Which was that I’d been away from Henry for two days, and I couldn’t possibly go out to dinner. Then he asked me to have lunch with him, and at that point he made it very clear that he wasn’t talking about a business meeting when he asked me out for dinner.”
“Ohhhh. So how do you feel about that? About seeing Gabe socially?”
“I don’t know,” Brooke wailed. “God, I suck at this boy-girl stuff. I never was good at it. Maybe that’s why after I started dating Harris in college, I decided he was the one. It was such a relief, you know, to not have to go through this whole bizarre dating ritual.”
The High Tide Club Page 26