by L. C. Evans
I reached behind me with both hands and gripped the edges of the countertop to keep from heaving the nearest breakable object across the room. Between half-gritted teeth I ground out, “For your information, Mama. And DeLorean. I went to see Philip Beauchamp to tell him his little blackmail scheme is over for good. " The headache moved lower and stabbed me somewhere behind my right ear. I winced and briefly closed my eyes. The phone rang and I snatched up the receiver to stop the sound from drilling an extra hole in my head.
“Hello,” I barked.
“Hey, Mom, it’s your favorite son.”
“This is a bad time, Christian. Could you call back later?” Someone, probably Mama, had set the phone on speaker. I fumbled for the mute button and missed.
“You can spare one minute, Mom. I need to know if you decided yet whether you’re going to take on some extra hours so I can quit my job. Save me, Mom? Please. And one more thing—Trinity’s going to Charleston next month for a college visit to decide if she wants to transfer. Can she stay with you for a few days?”
I held out the receiver and gave it a dagger of a look. Next I took in the unwelcome sight of my audience--DeLorean, her fine-boned face still twisted into a sulk because I’d ruined her evening out. Mama, clearly scandalized, fanning herself with a limp handkerchief. Jack leaning against the wall wearing a smirk, though I’d have expected him to be steaming because I’d taken him away from Veronica in the middle of their date. I wanted to smack him. I wanted to smack them all.
Something inside me snapped. If I’d had a speaker in my chest like the one on the phone, I’d have bet the sound would have been audible across the room.
“Yes,” I said between gritted teeth. “I’ve decided. You’re a big boy, Christian. You can work your own way through college. I have a life of my own. Did you hear me? A life of my own. And now I’m going to start living it, spoiled son and all. As for Trinity, I like her. I’d be happy to have her stay.”
Mama gasped. The handkerchief became a white blur. “Why, Susan Caraway, there is no need to get into such an ugly mood and I cannot understand why you would consent to let that purple-haired trollop back into your house. I am shocked. ”
“Not as shocked as you’re going to be when I tell you that I don’t appreciate your attitude after I helped you with Philip. Thanks to me, he isn’t going to bother you again. And if he does, so what? You can choose to tell Rhett the truth and hope he still wants to get married or you can choose to keep living a lie and praying that Philip stays away for good. Your problems are not my problems, Mama. Not anymore.” Surprised at my display of attitude, I clamped my mouth shut and waited for a response. For some reason I half expected Mama to have a heart attack and lie staring up at me with reproach in her eyes during her final moments. Or for her to dump me, hauling herself out of her chair to hobble out of my life for good. Or for the roof to come crashing down on me.
I actually started trembling and my breathing became fast and shallow. But nothing happened. Not one single thing. Unless you counted the fact that Christian’s voice floated out of the phone to say, “Gee, Mom, no need to yell. I asked, that’s all. I can manage okay if you don’t have time for a second job. And, Mom? I’m sorry. I just didn’t think.”
“I’m glad you’ve made that decision. Because that’s the only choice you have if you plan to finish college.”
“I get it. Case closed.”
Brad chose that moment to decide there might be an army of Huns invading the yard. Or maybe he was simply hungry and thirsty. Whatever the problem, I didn’t appreciate the barking and the pitiful howling right under the kitchen window and I was sure my neighbors weren’t exactly dancing a happy jig, either.
I turned to my sister. “DeLorean, you forgot to take care of Brad. I know you’ve been through a rough time with your breakup and Cole keeps you up at night. Believe me, I’ve been there and I do sympathize. But Brad is your responsibility. In fact, you have a lot of responsibilities now that you’re an adult and a mother. I don’t care if you keep Brad, but if I were you, I’d do the right thing and give him to someone who has time for him instead of expecting me to act as your kennel maid.”
“Fine, I get the picture.” She blinked rapidly. “You don’t have to be so bitchy.”
Second time tonight someone had made that accusation. So what? If bitchy meant I was through letting my family members walk all over me, then I’d gladly accept the label.
“I’m not finished, Dee. It’s time for you to stop pouting your way through life expecting me to pick up the pieces every time to you make a bad decision. You have a baby to think about. I know it’s not easy on your own and I’ll help you as much as I’m able. But I’m not willing to sacrifice every resource and every spare moment so you can remain a helpless child.”
I braced myself. But there was no storming out of the room. No disowning me forever. No death or other calamities to punish me for being mean to the sister I loved so much.
DeLorean drew her breath in sharply. I could tell she was processing what I’d just said and didn’t like it. I couldn’t blame her. My attitude adjustment probably didn’t make sense in her mind. But then, why should it? I’d always fallen all over myself to handle any crisis she’d ever had. I’d spoiled her as badly as I’d spoiled Christian and I’d let Mama expect me to come running every time she even imagined she might have a problem.
“Susan, from the moment you had this ghost hunting idea, you have not been yourself. It’s time you came to your senses and realized you need to stay on at the pawnshop.” Mama shook her finger at me in a very unladylike way. “DeLorean and I discussed your situation earlier this evening. You need the stability of your job.”
“Stability? The pawnshop?” Oh, that was rich. I waved my arms back and forth as if I were directing the Charleston Symphony during Spoleto. “Listen up, everyone, I have an announcement. You can all stop telling me to go back to earning far less than I’m worth working for Odell Hoganboom. That’s no longer an option since I got fired last week.”
“You got what?” Mama’s face first went pale, then turned a garish shade of red. I might as well have told her I’d had a tattoo that read “prime tail” applied to my right buttock.
“That’s impossible,” DeLorean said, staring at me as if I’d just turned to marble in front of her eyes. “No one would ever fire you.”
“Why? Because I’m way too accommodating? Guess those days are over.”
A squawking sound came out of the phone. I turned to glare at it, made another stab, and finally hit the mute button.
“So you can all quit telling me I’m not allowed to work where I want to work, when I want to work.”
Even Mama was struck silent by my screeching. For all of sixty seconds. Then she straightened her back and visibly pulled herself together, a paragon of southern ladyhood once again. “I don’t know what’s come over you. I should not have to remind you that it is pure bad manners to show temper and discuss family business in front of a guest.” She shifted her eyes sideways toward Jack, as if I didn’t know which guest she was talking about.
Maybe if I hadn’t followed the direction of her gaze and seen Jack still slouching against the wall, I would have been able to calm myself and apologize. But he was obviously on the verge of laughing at me. In fact, I was positive I heard a snicker escape from the side of his mouth.
“What’s so funny, Jack? Isn’t it time for you to scurry back to Veronica before she starts to worry?”
Bitter tears sprang to my eyes. Oh, damn, not now. I knew I wouldn’t be able to control the tears for more than thirty seconds and I was not about to cry in front of Jack and make him think I cared that he and my best friend couldn’t keep their eyes—or whatever--off each other. I leaned forward to snag Mama’s keys and my purse.
Before anyone could try to stop me I dashed out of the house and down the driveway. It took two tries for me to start the Cadillac and I had the fleeting thought that I should to take it back to the g
arage for Mama and get it checked out. Then I remembered I was no longer going to solve my family’s problems and that Mama had to handle her own car repair problems.
I didn’t know where I was going, but five minutes later I realized the car was taking me toward the Cooper River Bridge. Fine, anywhere but home was good.
Chapter Nineteen
I roared across the bridge to Charleston, knowing I was lucky a cop didn’t stop me, and took East Bay to Calhoun Street. I found a parking garage near Broad where I left the Cadillac on the third level.
My headache had dulled considerably since the aspirins. I remembered I hadn’t eaten since lunch and thought about getting a sandwich and a cup of coffee, but eating seemed like too much trouble at this point.
Charleston is a very walkable city. I trudged aimlessly for block after block, not bothering to pretend I was doing anything even so purposeful as window-shopping. People traveling in groups or pairs congregated on corners and pushed past me going in the opposite direction. They all seemed to be chatting happily as they wandered in and out of shops and restaurants, and I envied them their peace.
I tried to block out their excited conversations. And I wished it were impossible for me to think and walk at the same time. But even after five blocks, the thoughts kept coming, crowding into my head, bringing up emotions I didn’t want to deal with. I remembered a time when I was small and my dad walked with me one night down these very streets. We were on our way to pick out a birthday gift for Mama, and I was excited to be allowed to stay up past my bedtime.
An image of my father floated into my mind and tears began sliding down my face. A crowd of teenagers passing by glanced at me curiously. Mama would have said she was shocked at their rudeness, but then what could you expect from their generation.
I turned left at the next corner, crossing the street to a less congested sidewalk so I could suffer without attracting notice. A block or so further on a horse blew through its nose and I looked up to see I was directly across from a ticket stand for carriage tours. Three carriages waited in line. I fished a wadded up tissue out of my purse, did a little damage control to my face, and walked over to the teenager manning the register.
“Are you still open?”
“No, Ma’am. Night tours are by prior arrangement only. We’ve got a big pre-booked party due in a couple of minutes. Unless you’re with them—the Lambtons from Florida?”
“Uh, no.” I wondered if the Lambtons from Florida would notice if I sneaked onto one of the carriages to ride with them. Probably. I wasn’t dressed the least bit like a tourist and I was sure my nose was bright red from crying and the Lambtons would be happy people with no cares. “Thanks anyway.”
The first carriage in line was painted green and was big enough to haul a family of six. The horse was huge, a bright sorrel with a blond mane and tail. A broad blaze covered his face and made him look friendly, the kind of horse you could tell your troubles to if his driver weren’t around to hear. I patted the horse’s neck and smoothed a few tangles out of his mane.
The driver made a half turn, keeping one eye on me and one on the horse. She was a thirtyish woman with hair colored the same shade of sorrel as the horse. “Thanks for choosing our tour. We’ll be driving through Charleston’s famous historic district for the next hour and as we go, I’ll point out sites of interest.”
“I’m not with the Lambtons.” I shook my head. “And I’m not a tourist.”
“Sorry. Just admiring the horse?”
“Yes, he’s a beauty. Do you mind if I pet him? It’s been a rough day and I’ve always believed there’s something soothing about horses.”
She focused on a fresh tear rolling down my cheek, “No problem, ma’am. Pet all you want until my party arrives.”
I ducked my head and patted the horse again, but footsteps and the chatter of voices behind me signaled the arrival of the Lambton party. With a whispered good-bye to that big, understanding horse, I trudged back down the street heading toward Marion Square.
I scrubbed at my face as I walked. The tissue was shredded by now. The horses clopped by and the years rolled back until I was reliving the time Daddy took me for a carriage ride. I sobbed softly, using the sleeve of my sweater to dry my eyes. I was quickly reminded that acrylic yarn is not the most absorbent fabric on the planet. I dug around in my purse and found a handful of napkins.
If only I could talk to Daddy, I knew he’d understand. I found a bench and sat alone under a tree. I closed my eyes and imagined my father sitting beside me with his arm around my shoulders as I poured out my troubles and silently told him all the things I’d say if I could see him one more time. I told him about my life, everything major that had happened since he’d gone away so suddenly. I didn’t leave out the part about my bad marriage and how I’d stuck around way too long. And I told him how I’d made a lot of other mistakes, too many to talk about.
“I wish you hadn’t died before you took me for another carriage ride like you promised,” I whispered. “I wasn’t a good girl that day and for a long time I thought that was the reason you never came home again. But now I know better. Except, maybe I knew logically, but I didn’t really know inside myself.”
There. I’d admitted the truth to myself. Something felt different inside me. I glanced up and was startled to see the horse drawn carriages returning to their stand. Had I really sat here for nearly an hour?
The tears stopped and I leaned back against the bench, letting the clopping of giant hooves against pavement soothe my soul. I was sorry I’d taken so long to figure out who I was and what I wanted—and didn’t want. I was sorry I hadn’t figured myself out before I made Jack angry and made so many other mistakes with my life. And sorry I’d have to quit the ghost tour job, but it would hurt too much to see Veronica and Jack together all the time.
Of course, without another job my savings wouldn’t last long. I’d have to sell the house and DeLorean and Cole would have to crowd in with Mama at the condo. If I didn’t find another job before I started running out of money, I’d move to a different city where prospects might be brighter and the cost of living cheaper. Maybe I’d take up studies at a community college and prepare for an entirely new career, something to do with plants or flowers. After all, I loved gardening. Or there were courses in paralegal, real estate secretary, practical nursing. Forty wasn’t too late to go back to school and start a new career.
I rubbed my last dry napkin across my face and forced a smile. I had a million options. I was going to be okay.
I still wasn’t ready to go home, but I’d pulled myself together enough to take to the sidewalks again. I stood and stretched. Then I tramped along, my head up, basking in a sense of peace that I hadn’t felt in years.
My cell phone rang four times and I didn’t bother to answer, or even look at the caller ID. Mama and DeLorean, no doubt. Well, they could call all they wanted. If they had problems, they’d have to cope on their own. New house rule. And if all they wanted was to complain about my earlier meltdown, too bad. I had every right to speak up on my own behalf. Even late bloomers eventually flower.
I found myself approaching the familiar grounds of the Blackthorn House. I turned in at the walkway and sat on the front steps. Regret filled my thoughts. After my initial doubts, I’d truly looked forward to running the ghost tours. Veronica would either have to scrap the whole idea or find someone to replace me. Maybe when I resigned I’d suggest she contact Patty. I chuckled to myself at the thought of Patty working for Veronica.
In the house across the street a light went off in an upstairs window. I yawned so big my jaw ached. It was late. Time for me to go home. I’d talk to Mama and DeLorean in the morning and tell them my plans. If they thought the Susan they’d seen this evening was a temporary aberration, they were in for a reality check.
I rubbed a cramp out of my shoulders, not paying attention to the car that slowly turned the corner and eased along close to the curb until it stopped in front of me. My heart s
ignaled alarm. What if these were the kidnappers Mama was always warning me about? Then I recognized Veronica’s silver BMW. Though she was almost the last person I wanted to see right now, I sighed with relief.
“Thank God, Susan.” She opened her passenger door. “I’ve been looking all over town for you.”
“What’s wrong?” I said in clipped tones.
“You know very well what’s wrong. We need to talk.”
I snorted. Is there anyone on the planet who enjoys hearing that phrase? “Can’t it wait till tomorrow?”
“Will you please get in? Come on, I’ll give you a ride back to your car.”
I didn’t want to get in the Beemer with her. On the other hand, the parking garage where I’d left the Cadillac was a long way off, it had gotten chilly, and the streets were now practically deserted. Besides, if I told her tonight that I was quitting, I wouldn’t have to bother coming in to work in the morning and taking a chance on running into Jack.
“Thanks,” I said casually, getting into the car. “I’m parked in that big public garage over on Broad.”
She u-turned in the parking lot next to the house and headed back toward the center of town. “I tried reaching you on your cell, but you didn’t answer.”
“I was busy.” I stared out the window, pretending to be fascinated by a stray cat sitting on the sidewalk. The poor thing looked like it was going to have kittens any second. “Do you think I have to be hooked to an electronic leash for your convenience simply because I’m running your ghost tours?”
“You know better than that. Now aren’t you wondering why I called?” Her expression went intense and her face was more square than I’d ever seen it. Positively box-like.
“Not really.” I shrugged. It was obvious she’d talked to Jack or she wouldn’t have known to go out looking for me. He probably told her all about my evening at the Budget Motel dealing with my mother’s problem du jour. Then after they’d spent an hour or so laughing, Veronica must have suffered a few jabs from her conscience. She’d want to explain why she didn’t see anything wrong with hooking up with Jack, it wasn’t like he was interested in me, and besides the relationship with Walter had cooled, so it was time for a new man. She’d tell me she knew I wouldn’t be ticked off at her, we’d been friends too long, and I’d want her to have the best. Maybe she’d even suggest I take Walter for my starter boyfriend and get her off the guilt trip, though of course, I’d have to understand she had absolutely no reason to feel guilty and I needed to get over myself and move on with my life.