“Who is? But what if you stop paying her? Just don’t give her another dime? She’ll listen then. What if—no wait—what happens when she gets caught driving drunk and goes to jail? And she will drive drunk again and she will get caught. And they have to put her in jail! It’s mandatory! All I have to do is make one phone call. Then you’ll get full custody anyway and she gets nothing. Not one dime! Zero! Bubkes! So, just tell her it’s all or nothing. Then we stage an intervention and off she goes to rehab, which I’ll research, and this time you lay down the law with her.”
Trip looked at me with the most incredulous expression I had ever seen on his face.
“What?” I said.
“Why didn’t I think of this?”
“Good question.”
“And you really think Rusty will go along with this?”
“Of course she will. She adores you. I think she will really try with the girls. Besides, she’ll be busy planning a wedding. All females love weddings and your girls will probably want to help. Well, they might.”
Trip still looked very uncertain.
“Trip, listen to me. This is the best of all possible worlds. The girls will be safe and out of danger. Frances Mae will no longer be a threat and she’ll get the help she needs. And Rusty, bless her heart, gets you, till death do y’all part. Now, why she thinks you’re such a prize is anyone’s guess . . .”
“Oh, thanks. And you’ll call Matthew Strickland?”
“It will be my pleasure!”
“This might actually work. Anyway, it’s sure worth trying. The one thing that has Rusty deeply concerned is the safety of the girls. I mean, if we take them and they don’t behave, there’s always boarding school.”
“That’s the spirit. I actually heard about a boarding school in Georgia where they make the kids dig up onions when they get into trouble and they have to recite Bible verses before they’re allowed to eat their dinner.”
“That could be just the ticket for my little scamps.”
“So you’ll talk to Frances Mae, then?”
Trip wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood. “Yes, I promise.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and kissed the back of Millie’s hand.
“Ladies? I’m off to further the cause of justice. Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Smoak, and thank you both for your excellent counsel.” He saluted us and left, slamming the door behind him.
“He’s such an ass,” I said to Millie, and picked up a piece of Trip’s fifth biscuit, popping it into my mouth. “Why he ever tore up those separation papers is anybody’s guess. He must’ve been crazy.”
“Humph. Call Rusty and invite her over here for lunch,” Millie said.
I looked at Millie’s face. Her eyes were in a tight squint and her jaw was clenched like a steel trap. “What’s wrong?”
“Something he said didn’t set right with me.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. But if he’s worried about losing her because of taking custody of his own flesh and blood, then as sure as my name is Millie Smoak, he shouldn’t be marrying her.”
“Lord in heaven! Millie, you’re absolutely right.”
“Humph. Usually I am.” She opened the refrigerator door and looked inside, taking inventory. She pulled out the remains of a roasted chicken. “How’s chicken salad?”
“Great. Waldorf salad?”
She nodded. “Sure enough, if I can find me a decent apple in this wasteland. When’s the last time we went to the grocery store?”
“I can go this morning. I was actually going over to Miss Sweetie’s anyway. I can stop at the Bi-Lo. It’s no problem.”
“You don’t worry; just go call Rusty. I’ll call our Mr. Jenkins and tell him to shake a leg. We both need a change of scenery. Too nice a day to be inside.”
Millie was getting about the business of reducing the chicken to bones and I went upstairs to my office.
Around the time Eric went off to college and I was thinking about what to do with myself, I redecorated a guest room that hadn’t seen a coat of paint or a new throw pillow in years. In between the windows, I put in built-in cabinets with glass doors across the top and shelves across the bottom. I still had not installed the lighting inside the cabinets but I would get around to it. I sighed, remembering the precious contractor who did all the work. He was Irish, complete with blue eyes the color of the sky and a brogue so thick he was almost impossible to understand. Michael was his name and we didn’t do a whole lot of talking anyway. Lord, he was amazing! I finally stopped seeing him because it was getting too serious and the last thing I wanted was another husband.
I decided to call him and see if he had a good electrician who could get the kind of lighting I wanted. I couldn’t remember his last name, so I wound up going through my files and found it right where I had left it, stapled to the folder that held all the invoices of the renovation. Michael Sullivan. How could I forget a name like that? It seemed that lately I was forgetting things all the time. It was probably nerves. Maybe a reunion with the contractor would be what I needed to put me back on track. I hesitated, knowing that the phone call would lead to “why don’t we get together” and I put the folder back, not wanting to reopen that can of worms. When a love affair was over, it was over.
I called Rusty.
“Caroline?”
“Hey, girl! Want to have lunch today? Millie’s making her fabulous Waldorf salad.”
“Absolutely! I’ve been working in the yard since the crack of dawn, hacking away at the bamboo with a machete like Indiana Jones. I’ll tell you what. Once bamboo gets going, it takes over.”
“I hear you! I’ve got to get on Mother’s roses, too. They’re a mess. If it’s not black spot, it’s aphids.”
“Maintaining a garden is never ending, isn’t it? What time?”
“How’s noon?”
“Great! I’ll hop in the shower and see you soon!”
I hung up and thought what in the world was wrong with Trip’s girls that they couldn’t see with their own eyes just how wonderful Rusty was? Didn’t they know by now that it was Rusty who bought every card and gift they received from their father? Didn’t they know that it was Rusty who made sure that every parents’ night, play, and recital they had was on Trip’s calendar in red letters? Hadn’t Rusty chosen Amelia’s and Isabelle’s cars? And arranged their insurance, all of their tuition payments, and everything else? She did all this, operating quietly in the background, not asking for or expecting a single word of thanks from them. Whenever we talked about the animosity of the girls, she always said that she took it in stride because she understood how problematic her relationship with Trip was for them to understand and reconcile. No, by anyone’s measure, Rusty was a wonderful woman whose sole purpose in life had become seeing about my brother’s happiness and well-being. He was lucky to have her and his hardheaded quartet of ignoramuses was lucky to have her working on their behalf.
It wasn’t long before we were outside on the portico, clinking our glasses of tea and remarking on the weather. What a day it was! Millie was right. It was too beautiful to stay indoors all day long. Wonderful breezes were coming off the river. They carried the salty, addictive smells of mud banks and mollusks, spun together and laced with the smells of pinesap and all the robust and earthy fragrances of the woods. Enormous cumulus clouds floated across the brilliant blue sky, igniting gratitude in my heart that I had not felt in a long while for the gift of my life and for being in this glorious place.
“I love this time of year,” I said. “Mother Nature is like a giant dose of Prozac.”
Rusty giggled. “Prozac. You are too much. But it’s true. Everywhere you turn, something is coming into bloom.”
“I love it.”
“Me, too. Trip and I love to eat outside. Somehow everything tastes more flavorful. You have to come over and see the new grill. It was just installed. Trip is dying to have a barbecue.”
“I’ll bet so. I’ll get Bobby Mack on the phone and get
him to bring us something. You know, I saw Trip this morning.”
“Oh? I knew he was in a hurry to get somewhere! That man does love his sister!”
“Well, I love him, too, but I think he hurried over because Millie was making biscuits.”
“Then who could blame him? I wish she would show me how she does it. She flat-out makes the lightest biscuits on the planet.”
“Oh, I’m sure she would teach you. And it’s the truth. I’d rather have one hot biscuit from her than a dozen glazed Krispy Kreme donuts.”
“Amen. So what’s going on?”
“Nothing. Just the usual. You know.”
“Caroline?”
“Okay. Look, Rusty, we’ve known each other for years and I love you like a sister. You know that, right?”
“Of course! What’s wrong?”
“Aside from the herd of elephants in the room? Millie and I are scared to death that if Trip doesn’t get those girls away from Frances Mae, something terrible is going to happen.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more! I told Trip just last night that he needed to take custody and get Frances Mae into rehab PDQ or she was going to wind up with her car wrapped around a tree!”
“You did?”
“Look. I can drive Chloe where she needs to go, back and forth to school and all that. Linnie and Belle have a car to drive. It wouldn’t be forever, would it?”
“You mean you would bring them here? Knowing how they feel about you?”
“Caroline? Don’t you think enough is enough? I don’t want to be their mother. They’ve already got one. I just want to help them get through a difficult and complicated time.”
“You told Trip this?”
“Of course I did! Why? What did he tell you I said?”
I put my fork down. Somebody was lying. I knew then that my brother had sold Rusty up the river so he wouldn’t have to take responsibility. Trip was in deep trouble with me.
5
Graffiti
BEFORE I CALLED TRIP AND kicked his bahunkus into the next century, I decided to talk to Millie. I surely didn’t want to start trouble between Rusty and Trip, so I made not one peep about Trip’s big fat lie, telling me of her insistent refusal to consider my nieces living with them. I simply soft-pedaled during the rest of the lunch, emphasizing instead how willing I was to help her. I told her I would be happy to stay with the girls if she had to go somewhere or just have a weekend away for a break. I would do all I could to help her and she appreciated it. Overall, I thought if Trip and Rusty had the girls, it would be a great opportunity to try to imbue the little strumpets with a healthy dose of Wimbley cachet, meaning basic civilized behavior, and then, if they could manage it, a dollop of refinement. Frankly, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on them. They really were a disaster. Rusty agreed.
So, it was late in the afternoon and I was in the kitchen with Millie, giving her the rundown of my conversation over lunch with Rusty.
“Do you think I should get Trip over here and just straight up call him a liar? Millie, you know how I absolutely lose complete faith in someone when they lie to me. I just can’t believe that Trip would be so deceitful!”
“Caroline? I think before you go off all half-cocked and crazy on him, we should try and figure out why he would lie. He hasn’t lied to any of us in ages! Ever since his rough patch, that is.”
“Rough patch. Humph. I don’t know why he would say such a thing about Rusty, but he did and it’s very disappointing. That’s all. I put up with enough deceit from my ridiculous ex-husband! Trip’s supposed to be focused on all the things we talked about this morning!”
“Well, why don’t you give him a chance? Don’t you think Rusty is going to tell him what y’all talked about?”
“Maybe you’re right. But I’ve got my eye on him! Both of them, in fact!”
“Caroline? You did what you can do. Trip is a grown man.”
“I know. You’re right, of course. I should wait and see. I don’t feel like having a big confrontation with Trip. I hate conflict! Truly, I do. Well, usually.”
Millie arched an eyebrow.
“Well, okay, maybe I like to stir the pot sometimes. Anyway, as you said, I just want him to do the right thing. Really. I do.”
Millie smiled at me and said, “Honey, quit pushing so hard! You’ve got to let him do it in his own time and in his own way.”
“I guess, but isn’t there some urgency here?”
“Don’t you think he knows that? He ain’t stupid.”
“I hope! At least now we know the truth about Rusty. I was having some dark thoughts about her.”
“You see? Look at you. Don’t be so easily swayed. I always knew she was a nice woman from the minute she walked in this house. When your brother started all that foolishness, hanging his coat on her nail, I knew something was fishy! Didn’t I tell you what?”
“Yes, you did. And you know what? I would much rather find out that Trip told a whopper than that Rusty didn’t want to take care of his children.”
“Humph! I’m gone save you a lot of time and trouble and tell you what an old woman knows. Your brother is scared out of his wits to take over his girls. This ain’t nothing but plain old fear. You blame him?”
“No. I really don’t. They scare me, too. Listen, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“I think Eric has a girlfriend.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Something. Because when I asked Amelia if he did? She told me to ask Eric.”
“Well, did you?”
“No. Not yet.”
“You want me to consult my orisha?”
“Would you?”
“Only because it’s Eric. Don’t want no fool woman messing him up, ’eah?”
“Me either!”
Millie’s gods and goddesses were called orisha and Millie was the high priestess of her Ifa religion and I’ll tell you all about that in due time. But for the moment you have to know that she was connected to the other world in ways Microsoft and Apple had yet to imagine!
It wasn’t until very late that night when I was trying to sleep that I realized something else about Trip and about me. We had barely known the value of having a father because ours died when we were so young. So what role model did Trip have to become a father himself? None but the succession of eager boyfriends Mother had paraded through our young lives. Most of the memories we had of our father were really mine, stories rearranged and retold over the years until we created our own truth, one we agreed on together. The life-changing sorrow and trauma of losing our father in that horrible plane crash was only compounded by our mother’s frosty behavior toward us in the following years. We were just children who needed reassurance that the world around us was safe. But instead, Miss Lavinia became the Ice Queen and only began to come around and show affection for us as she approached the end of her own life. It was no wonder that Trip was so reluctant to just barge in and assume the reins. He didn’t have the first clue about what to do or how he was supposed to feel.
I had probably become the opposite kind of parent from Trip. I was married to an older man who, as it turned out, was so judgmental and dictatorial that it became unbearable. It began on our wedding night, if you can envision such a thing, when Richard made it plain he thought fidelity was a bore. Can you imagine how I felt? When I was in labor, Millie and I found out that Richard was in London, shacked up with his ex-wife, Lois, the trashy thing with the nasal accent that gave certain Yankees their questionable reputation south of the Mason-Dixon Line. His infidelity stung then, still stung now, and probably always would. But the worst insult was to know he preferred Harry, his obnoxious son born during his marriage to Lois. That made me hyperprotective of Eric. His criticisms of Eric made me actually want to do him physical harm. Some days I wished I had.
I looked at the alarm clock. It was just after midnight and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep anytime soon. Thinking about Richard�
�s attitude and behavior had infuriated me as though these things had just happened hours ago instead of years. I got up, threw on my old jeans and a chambray shirt, and drove over to Trip’s. His kitchen lights were still on and the side of his house that faced the river was all wide open. I got out and gave my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. I couldn’t see him or Rusty through the windows, but when I turned to go back to my car to grab my cell phone, I spotted him down on his dock. He was alone, leaning on the rail, standing in the same position as we always did on my dock. His posture said he was deep in thought. I called out to him from about fifty feet away. I was convinced that I could help him sort out this problem.
“Hey! Want some company?”
He turned to face me, and even in the darkness I could sense the depth of his somber mood.
“Hey. Sure. What are you doing up so late?”
“Bear hunt. But it looks like it was called off.”
“Right. Me, too.”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either.”
The Edisto moved ever so quietly beneath us, tiny laps against the pilings like whispers, waltzing its way in slow motion and with a lyrical determination toward the Atlantic. The river was lit by a sliver of the moon and countless stars, but in its center it appeared to be bottomless and menacing. All around its edges the water held the silhouettes of trees—loblollies, palmettos, and live oaks to assure us. We could see ourselves reflected in it. In that moment the Edisto knew all there was to know about us.
“So what are you thinking about?” I said.
“My life as I knew it has come to an end.”
“Oh, good grief, Trip. Isn’t that a little melodramatic?”
“Nope. It’s over. Done. Finished.”
“Well, then maybe that’s a good thing.”
“Maybe. I had one of my associates start drawing up separation papers today. Should be done by day after tomorrow.”
“Good. Did you get all the stuff I e-mailed you on Promises Rehab in Malibu?”
“Yeah. It’s no bargain.”
Lowcountry Summer Page 5