“Have you set a date yet, Faith?” Sam asked. She refused to let Jackie bitch about her pregnancy and spoil the moment for their younger sister.
“Give a guy a break, Sammie.” Curtis filled his glass to the rim with champagne. “We only got engaged last night. I need to let the idea of marriage sink in.”
“What’s the point in waiting?” Jackie asked. “You’ve been dating since high school, and living together for more than two years.”
“Give them some time. Curtis and Faith will make their plans when they’re ready,” Oscar said.
“Just think, Daddy,”—Jackie ignored her father’s warning glare—“now that Faith is taken care of—if you call living in a seedy apartment above a filthy garage where her husband works being taken care of—you can focus your attention on finding a home for Sam and Jamie. Then you and Mom can finally enjoy your empty nest.”
“That’s it.” Bill pushed back from the table. “You’ve had enough.”
Bill helped Jackie out of her chair and into her coat. Happy to be going home, she didn’t protest. After a round of hugs and kisses and best wishes for a Merry Christmas, the soon-to-be parents left the others to clean up from dinner.
When all the dishes were put away, they settled in the family room with big slices of red velvet cake and steaming cups of decaf coffee.
Snuggled together in the La-Z-Boy, Faith lay her head on her fiancé’s shoulder. “The sooner we get married, the sooner we can have a baby.” She looked longingly at Jamie who was sound asleep, nestled between his grandparents on the sofa.
Curtis’s face flushed with anger. “I ain’t in no hurry to have a bunch of kiddies running around spoiling my fun.”
Stretched out on the floor, warming her feet by the fire, Sam said, “I agree, Faith. You really should wait a year or two. The party is over once the children come along.”
A sudden pounding on the front door announced the arrival of a group of Curtis’s friends. Sam was surprised to see Beth Ann Bellman and Susie Henchman, two of her high school buddies, in tow. The crowd tumbled into the room, bringing with them a mixture of beer and marijuana smells.
Beth Ann’s eyes grew wide when she saw them cozied up by the fire. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize y’all were having family time. We ran into them”—she aimed her thumb at Curtis’s friends behind her—“at the Pelican’s Roost. Dwayne said you were having people over.”
Susie let out a hiccup, and pressed her fingers to her lips, giggling. “Oops. Sorry.”
“Maybe we should come back another time,” Beth Anne said.
“Don’t leave on our account. Lovie and I were just getting ready to put this little guy down.” Oscar scooped the baby up as he got to his feet. “Sammie, why don’t you get your friends a beer?”
Dwayne held up a twelve-pack of Budweiser. “Thanks, Captain, but we brought our own.”
Curtis pushed Faith off his lap and sprang to his feet. “Then let’s get this party started.”
The guys used logs from wood stacked by the back porch to build a fire in the dirt pit. Then they all gathered around to stay warm.
For the first time in months, Sam could enjoy herself without the fear of a hangover, knowing her parents would take care of the baby when they got up early the next morning to cook the turkey for Christmas dinner. The beer went down smoothly, and before she knew it, she was more than a little drunk.
She went to get another beer from the cooler on the porch. Curtis was waiting for her on the steps when she returned. “You must get lonely without a man to keep you warm on cold nights like tonight.” He cornered her, his stale cigarette breath close to her face.
She stepped back, away from him. “No need to worry about me. I can take care of myself.” She glanced around nervously. “Where’s Faith?”
“Asleep. On the couch in yonder. She’s no fun anymore.” He removed a cigarette from the pack, lit it, and took a deep drag. “You know,”—he pointed the cigarette at her—“you never can tell about a person. If you ask me, Allen was a damn fool to walk out on you like he did.”
“Nobody asked you, but the bastard did me a favor by leaving.”
Curtis took another drag off his cigarette, then stamped it out with his cowboy boot. He ran his finger along Sam’s cheek. “I ain’t too proud to raise another man’s baby. You and I would make a good team.” Forcing her up against the porch, he tore at the buttons on her coat. “Come on, show me some skin, Sexy Sammie.”
“Back off, you asshole.” She kneed him in the groin with all the force she could muster in her intoxicated state.
He doubled over and tumbled to the ground. “You’ll regret that, you self-righteous bitch,” he hissed, writhing about in agony.
She kicked at the frozen ground. “I’m not going to tell my sister about this because you’re drunk and, for whatever reason, she loves you. But if you make a pass at me again, I’ll make sure you don’t live to see another day.”
Nine
Jacqueline
The house was silent. No sounds of feet moving on the stairs or a basketball pounding in the driveway or the dogs barking at the mailman. Jackie now heard noises she’d never noticed. A creak. A distant dripping. The clinking of the brass chain on the overhead fan. She was accustomed to her family being gone. The twins were always at school or out on the water or in the woods, and Bill worked from dawn to dusk Monday through Friday and every other weekend on call at the hospital. But Carlotta’s absence had created a void she hadn’t expected. And Carlotta was not loud. She pitter-pattered around in her moccasins, slipping from one room to another, as quiet as snow falling on a winter landscape. She never listened to music while cooking or watched Spanish soap operas while ironing. She spoke only when spoken to and kept her cell phone on silent. Even when she fussed at the boys for the messes they made, she did so in a soft voice.
“I plan to work out my two weeks, Miss Jacqueline,” Carlotta promised. “I won’t leave until all the silver is polished, the baseboards are cleaned, and your freezer is stocked with enough casseroles to get you through the summer.”
“You will do no such thing. Your sister needs you now. Not in two weeks.”
Carlotta’s face flushed a deep crimson. “But I need the money for my bus fare.”
“Don’t worry. I plan to pay you for the two weeks, plus a healthy bonus.”
Carlotta wrapped her skinny arms around Jackie’s neck. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I should be thanking you for all you’ve done for me over the years. You will always have a job with me, Carlotta, if you ever decide to come back.”
After sixteen years, Jackie’s nanny-turned-housekeeper- turned-confidante was gone. Their working relationship had extended to friendship, and she knew she would miss Carlotta more than she would her philandering husband. Carlotta knew when Jackie needed to talk, but she also understood how to avoid her bad moods. Jackie would eventually have to find a replacement, but that could wait until the boys came back from camp. With so many other changes in her life, she couldn’t cope with the awkwardness of having a stranger around.
Bill and the boys had left before dawn Thursday morning, the back of her Suburban packed with their trunks, sleeping bags, and an assortment of fly fishing gear that Cooper and Sean insisted they needed. When Bill had asked to borrow her car, she said, “You’ll have to figure out how to get all their stuff in your hot-rod man car.” But she’d eventually given in when she pictured the boys cramming their six-foot bodies in the compact backseat of their father’s convertible.
Jackie poured herself a third cup of coffee—she usually had only one—and took it outside on the porch. Was this what her life had become? Sitting around drinking coffee all day. Mimi had slowly reduced Jackie’s workload at Motte Interiors until the only project she had left was the Sweeney makeover.
When Jackie had presented the Sweeney venture to her, Mimi glared over her tortoiseshell readers. “Commercial decorating isn’t really our style,
dear. Taking on this project will make the company appear desperate.”
In all the years Jackie had worked for her, Mimi had never tried to hide her distaste for their family business. Commoners were beneath her social status, and retail merchants who peddled a product as smelly as seafood sat on the bottom rung.
“We are talking easy money, Mimi,” Jackie had argued. “Sam already knows what she wants. All we have to do is execute her plan.”
Mimi had reluctantly agreed to let Jackie continue with the Sweeney’s venture, but she’d never inquired about their progress or asked to see the designs, and she’d excluded Jackie from staff meetings and planning sessions on all their other projects.
She could take a hint. Time for her to find a new job.
Bill’s words echoed in her mind. Take a chance on something new, maybe a new career, or even the same career but with a boss who appreciates you.
Jackie had landed some big accounts for Motte Interiors over the years, clients that were still loyal to her for all their decorating needs.
“I’ll take my clients and start my own firm. What do you think about that?” she called out to the blue heron ambling near the edge of the water.
The heron craned its long neck to get a good look at her before flying off.
Jackie’s body slumped. Maybe she should take up golf.
She slammed her coffee mug down on the railing, suddenly struck with a brilliant idea. She would focus her attention on the boys, make up for all the extracurricular activities and sporting events she missed out on while she was working. Might as well make the most of these last two years before the twins left for college. If she hired a housekeeping service to do the basic cleaning, she could take over the shopping and cooking herself. After all, she had a folder full of recipes she’d been dying to try. She imagined a pot of chili, a fire crackling in the fireplace, yellow ginkgo leaves blowing across the front walk where a row of carved jack-o-lanterns waited to welcome the boys home from football practice.
Who was she kidding? The boys wouldn’t notice if she painted the walls of the living room black. And they hated it when she tried out new recipes. They shoveled food in their mouths so fast they hardly tasted it.
She would simply have to find a better use of her time.
Jackie glanced down at her new floral sundress. She’d taken extra care with her appearance that morning in the hopes that Julia would invite her to lunch to celebrate her birthday and apologize for not showing up for her party on Wednesday night. But it was already close to noon and her cell phone remained silent.
She contemplated changing into her bathing suit, grabbing the new Dot Frank novel she’d picked up from the bookstore, and going down to the dock for an afternoon of sunning. Then she remembered the hours she spent at the dermatologist’s office, reversing the damage she’d done to her skin in her youth.
She should support her family and attend the market’s reopening. She needed to check on her mother, anyway, to find out how she’d been feeling since she got out of the hospital two days ago. But she lacked the energy to spar with Sam or answer Lovie’s relentless questions.
No children, no husband, no housekeeper, no best friend. Alone. All dressed up with no place to go. She could either pour herself another cup of coffee and sit around feeling sorry for herself, or do what she always did when she felt depressed—go to Charleston for some much-needed retail therapy.
With the top rolled back on Bill’s midlife-crisis mobile and Whitney Houston blaring from the radio, Jackie passed the long line of Saturday beachcombers entering the city limits as she headed in the opposite direction. Just thinking about maxing out Bill’s credit cards improved her mood. She would start at one end of King Street and work her way to the other, searching the galleries for any ultra-modern work of art and trendy knickknack she could find.
Bill always preached, “Don’t buy on a whim. Buy things of value that will last, things that will never go out of style.”
His knowledge of antiques was impressive. Unfortunately, he lacked the taste to compliment his collection. With her husband out of the picture, she could hire herself to redecorate Moss Creek Farm. And, since Bill would be paying the bills, she could use her exorbitant consulting fees to buy everything she’d ever wanted.
By the time she’d driven forty miles to Charleston and fought the traffic leading into downtown, her caffeine buzz had transitioned into a headache, dampening her spirits. She merged onto East Bay Street and headed south toward the Battery. Parking on Murray Boulevard, she got out of the car and strolled up and down the promenade, refreshed by the cool salt air on her face. She wove in and out of the residential streets, admiring the restored antebellum homes, peeking through iron gates at hidden gardens, admiring the massive planters overflowing with summer annuals. Exhausted and sweaty, her Tory Burch sandals rubbing a blister between her toes, she found a park bench under a shady oak in Battery Park to rest. Starving, she searched her bag and found a crumbled, partially melted protein bar, which she choked down with half a bottle of warm water.
Stretching her legs out in front of her, Jackie watched a family with identical twin sons and a daughter who climbed on the Civil War cannons. She estimated the boys to be a couple of years older than their sister. When the little girl slid off the cannon and landed on her bottom, the boys rushed to help her to her feet and brush the dirt from her shorts. Jackie imagined the dynamics of her own family if she’d had a third child, a baby girl. She would have called her daughter Annabella, so soft and feminine, the syllables rolling off her tongue. Would Annabella have been a priss pot like Jackie or a tomboy like Sam? Would Annabella’s presence have annoyed Cooper and Sean, or would they have been protective of her like the children playing on the cannons?
If only she hadn’t gone back to work so soon after the twins were born. If only her marriage had been happier. When had her life become one great big if only? Sadly, the time had long since come and gone for her to do anything about any of it.
The melody from Swan Lake drifted across the street and caught Jackie’s attention. A little girl about eight years old glided across the side porch of her stately home on the toes of her ballet slippers. Tall and lean in a pale-pink leotard and matching tights, with her blonde hair pulled tight in a high bun, the child reminded Jackie of herself at that age. Out of nowhere, two boys appeared in the garden below and began shooting at the little girl with their water guns. The girl stuck her tongue out at the boys and spread her arms wide, welcoming their assault. She curtsied, and they squirted her some more, but when one of them threw a pebble at her, she stomped her foot. “Moommm, Christopher’s throwing rocks at me.”
An adult version of the little girl appeared—simple and elegant in green Capri pants and a white cotton tee. Held in place with a barrette at the base of her neck, her hair was the same white blonde as her daughter’s.
“Leave Lilly alone and let her practice. Y’all have been here long enough. Why don’t you go on down to Scooter’s for a-while. If you ask nicely, I bet his mom will make you a grilled cheese.”
The boys dropped their guns and took off running down the sidewalk.
The mother went back inside, leaving her daughter to continue with her practice. Lilly glided and leaped, pirouetted and pliéed, unaware of the stranger watching her from across the street.
Jackie hadn’t danced like that since her single days, when she rented a carriage house several blocks from where she now sat. She had treasured her time in the little cottage, the only space that had ever belonged solely to her. She converted the guest bedroom into a dance studio and used her free afternoons to choreograph long, intricate pieces of modern ballet.
Jackie had lost all sense of self when she moved out of that carriage house. When she gave everything up for love.
She’d never forget the day she’d made her choice. Late on a stormy Sunday afternoon during the summer of 1993, she and Bill were sprawled out on her queen-size brass bed, spent from hours of making
love.
“What’s this?” she asked when he placed a black velvet ring box on her naked chest.
He grinned like a naughty little boy. “What do you think it is?”
She picked up the box, turning it one way, then another, imagining the size and cut without opening the lid. “But why now, when I’m getting ready to move to New York?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want you to go.”
The window unit clicked on, blowing cold air across their naked bodies. She pulled the covers up to her chin and set the black box down on top of her chest. “Why don’t you come to New York with me? There are plenty of hospitals. You could have your choice.”
“I’ve spent most of my life trying to get away from big cities, Jackie. You know that. First Boston, now Charleston.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t exactly call Charleston a big city.”
“I’m a big-fish-in-a-small-pond kind of guy. I’ve accepted an offer with an established practice in Prospect.”
“Prospect?” She turned over in bed to face him. “You mean, my Prospect, my hometown?”
“I’m not aware of any other Prospects. At least not around here.”
“But what about MUSC?”
He shook his head. “They’re fully staffed at the moment. With no openings in sight. Or so they say.” He wrapped a stray strand of her hair around his index finger. “Seriously, Jack. All my life I’ve struggled to keep up. First at prep school, then Harvard, then UVA medical school. I don’t want to be that guy anymore. I can make something of myself in Prospect. I can be a successful doctor, but still have a life outside of my practice, playing golf and hunting and fishing, doing all the things I enjoy.”
He picked up the black velvet box. “Marry me and I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.” He flipped open the box and showed her the brilliant-cut solitaire diamond.
The light from the bedside table lamp hit the prisms, casting rays of color around the room. Her breath caught and her eyes brimmed with tears. “It’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.”
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