“Oh, I will!”
I knew she would. I planted a kiss on her cheek and she hugged me with her free arm.
They were so tired. We were all so tired. Eric had disappeared upstairs to his room, probably to call his babysitter. Even Millie made an early departure. I had just closed the door behind them all and turned on the dishwasher. Richard was still sitting at the kitchen table and it was obvious to me he was hanging around to unburden himself of some serious something.
“Can I get you anything, Richard?” I spoke with that tone of voice that really meant last call at the bar. My intention was to escape to my room and sleep for ten years or so.
“No, thank you.” He swirled the scotch and ice around in his tumbler. “I want to talk to you, Caroline. Can you sit with me for a minute?”
“Of course,” I said.
There was no apparent reason I should say no at that moment, so I sat. I may have thought he was a skank and I may have praised heaven a thousand times in the last twenty-four hours that I divorced him, but those were not good enough reasons to be inhospitable. He was, after all was said and done, Eric’s father.
“Would you like a glass of wine, my dear?”
I loved the way he offered me a glass of wine in my own house.
“No, thanks. I’m actually going to turn in, in a few minutes. It’s been a long, terrible week and I’ve really had it.”
I rested my chin on the heel of my hand and my elbow on the table, giving him my full attention. Let’s get this over with, I thought.
“I’m sure. Well, I wanted to say some things to you and you don’t need to answer me now. Just muse on them and we can talk next week or whenever you want to. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking . . .”
“Maybe I’ll have that glass of wine anyway,” I said. He started to get up and I said, “No, no! I’ll get it. You talk, I’ll pour.” I got up and went to the cabinet for a goblet.
“There’s a sauvignon blanc on the door of the fridge,” he said. “It’s open.”
“Great.” I helped myself and took my seat once again. Had he inventoried every last drop of alcohol in the house? “So what’s going on, Richard?”
“Well, a number of things. At long last, Lois and I are completely finished with each other. We broke up after Harry was expelled from MIT for plagiarism.”
“Oh, Richard! I’m sorry.” I tried to sound sincere. It was a struggle.
“And then Lois married Herb. Herb the dentist from the Five Towns on Long Island.”
“Good grief. I wouldn’t name a dog Herb.”
“Me either. Silly name.”
So, he didn’t remember he had already told Trip all of this or maybe he thought Trip had not told me? Either he was really that snockered or he was so arrogant he didn’t think my only brother would share that kind of newsy gossip with me? The former was pitiful, because it seemed Trip and I both married people who drank way too much. And the latter was pathetic proof that Richard had scant understanding of the love and trust a brother and a sister could share. And he was a psychiatrist. He took money from people to help them solve their personal issues. How ironic is that?
“Well, I’m sorry for your trouble, Richard.”
“That’s not all . . .”
I waited for him to tell me about Harry’s drug problems and about him living on the streets, and he did. After I heard way more about Harry than I wanted to know, he got up, picked up the wine bottle, and refilled my glass.
“That’s just awful, Richard. I know you had such high hopes for him.”
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
“Look. Life is long. Sometimes, anyway.” I was thinking of Rusty then, who was robbed of decades. “He may come around. He’s a smart boy.”
“Not so smart actually. No common sense. And not a grain of kindness in him either.”
I began reliving the past, remembering what a little son of a bitch—an accurate description of his mother’s personality and of Harry’s demeanor—he had been to Eric when they were just little boys. He was heinous to Eric, and Richard always took Harry’s side.
“Yeah, he was a tough nut.”
“So, you don’t hate me, then?”
“Heavens no! Why would I hate you?”
“Because I always held Harry in such high esteem over Eric.”
“Well, Richard, there’s the difference between us. I knew you were just plain wrong. I always focused on Eric’s character and potential, not his ability to mainstream in some stupid private school where the faculty is so underpaid and ridiculous they wouldn’t recognize a gifted child if he bit them square in the face. And Harry? Even when he was six years old, I wouldn’t have left Harry with a small animal, a small child, or a pack of matches for more than five minutes.”
“In retrospect, that was probably a wise call. I bet on the wrong horse and lost.”
“It would appear so. At least for right now. But you never had to make the bet, Richard.”
“You’re right. And that’s the thing, isn’t it? I never had to make the bet at all. I should have loved them equally. And intellectually I did, but for some reason I could never show it.”
“Probably because emotionally some men like to take competition to dangerous levels. That edgy thing you were always after, even with Lois. Whether it was sex or anything else. Do you know how often I watched you place the value of a win over everything? Between your sons, Richard! You made them compete for your affection. It was so hateful.”
“So you do hate me.”
“Not at all. I feel a little sorry for you. You can never capture what you could have had with Eric and I don’t think you can ever repair the damage done by all the rejection. I wish you could but I don’t know how you could.”
“Dear God, Caroline, why don’t you just stab me to death?”
“Look, Richard, I don’t want to hurt you, but where were you during the past decade? Am I just supposed to overlook all the heartbreak you caused our son? The silence on his birthdays? The visits that never materialized? All the broken promises? I’m just stating the facts, Richard. I mean, I still can’t figure out why you’re here now.”
“Caroline. Why am I here, why am I here? I am here, Caroline, because you were right and I was so desperately wrong, and because I am so, so dreadfully sorry for everything. I mean everything. And I thought this might be a chance to patch things up. You know, give it another go. Because, Caroline, you have something I’d give my last dime to have.”
“Really? What’s that?”
“A family, Caroline. A good, solid, sensible, and wonderful family. I have nothing except the remnants of my relationship with you and with Eric. You have a wonderful brother. You’ve turned my son into a spectacular young man. And I think you know how I feel about you, Caroline.”
“Is there any more wine in that bottle?”
He poured the rest of it out for me.
“Thanks,” I said. “Okay, Richard. There’s something I have to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“Do you know that very nice man who was at the service today? The one who brought Chloe her puppy?”
“Yes, the young man? The policeman?”
“He’s my age actually and he’s the sheriff of Colleton County.”
“A thousand pardons.” Richard arched an eyebrow. I could read his mind. So he couldn’t tell the difference between a busboy and a waiter? Weren’t they basically the same thing? “What about him?”
“I’m in love with him, Richard, and I think I’m going to marry him.”
Just then, the old cuckoo clock on the wall that we brought home from Switzerland when I was a girl, the one that hadn’t made a peep in years? Well, it went nuts, cuckooing and chiming at least twenty times.
Richard howled with laughter.
I said, “That’ll be enough out of you, Miss Lavinia!”
“I think your mother disapproves,” he said.
“Tough noogies,” I said. “I’m gonna marry him an
yway.”
“Does your young man know this?”
“No.”
“So, there’s no hope for us, I suppose.” I shook my head and he strummed his fingers on the table. “I figured as much. Well, what about Eric? Do you think he has room in his heart for an old foolish man who’s filled with regret?”
“You’ll have to take that up with him. I hope he does, but, Richard, if you ever let him down again . . .”
“You’ll have me arrested?”
“Yeah, I’ll have you arrested. Now I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
That grandiose proclamation had been two weeks ago, but it had a short shelf life. Eric had yet to hear from his father. No one was surprised because long ago we had resigned ourselves to having very low expectations when it came to anything that had to do with Richard. Who was it who said the road to hell was paved with good intentions? Well, he or she was a very smart cookie.
During these two weeks, many interesting things and many good things have happened as we made an effort to restore normalcy to our lives. Southern Living magazine had confirmed the date for their shoot and I was very excited about that. I’d been pinching and pruning all the beds in the garden like they were up for an award.
But, I’m sorry to say, Eric had an awful disappointment. Well, sorry and relieved. He went back to Columbia a week before classes started to attend summer school. He said he wanted to get a tough biology requirement out of the way and that to do it in an abbreviated semester when it was his only subject would be so much better, or so he tried to convince me. He was staying at a “friend’s” apartment and I knew good and well he was playing house with Erica. Like we say in the Lowcountry, I might have fallen off the turnip truck, but it wasn’t yesterday. And I also knew some mischief was afoot because whenever he called me, I could hear traffic, which meant he just happened to be outside. Gee. Did I perhaps think he was trying to call me without a crying baby in the background?
But it only took five days of this subterfuge and suddenly he was back in my house with all his belongings. Something had gone dreadfully wrong. Without a word to me or anyone, Amelia, who was staying home for the summer to help with the girls or at least until Frances Mae resurfaced, rode up to Columbia, picked him up, and brought him home.
I was in the kitchen with Millie, who was mixing up dough for chocolate-chip cookies, discussing Trip’s worsening depression, when we watched them pull up in the yard.
Amelia didn’t even come inside. She just helped Eric unload his duffel bags to the back steps. I knew instinctively that she was trying to avoid confrontation. We’d all had plenty of that to last a lifetime or maybe two. But I wasn’t going to confront anyone. I was thrilled to pieces to have my boy back at Tall Pines! And I was really grateful that I had stayed out of his romance and let it implode on its own.
“Darlin’! You’re home!” I gave him the biggest hug. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, passing through the room en route to his. He stopped, sighed, and turned to face me. “I mean, I’ll talk about it but just not now. Okay? Hey, Millie.”
“Uh-huh,” Millie said, and watched him pass.
The swinging door closed behind him.
“What do you think?” I asked her.
“I think Trip just got himself the fishing buddy he sorely needs.”
“Think he broke up with that woman?”
Yes, I had confided in Millie. Who else did I have to talk to? Matthew? Oh, sure. Men like Matthew just love to talk about young people’s love affairs. So, I had spilled the beans to Millie. She probably knew anyway. Who was I kidding?
“Excuse me, but am I baking his favorite cookies or what?”
Of course! See what I mean? Millie knew he was coming.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you’d start wringing your hands and worrying about him until he got here and I don’t need no more trouble to contend with for a while, iffin that’s all right with you. We still got a full plate with your brother, ’eah?”
I looked her in the face and thought I was so mad with her that I was going to stamp my feet, just the way my mother used to do. But then I realized she was absolutely right. If I had expected anything was wrong in Eric’s world, I would have been a complete wreck, fretting more than I was fretting about him being with Erica, whom I fully intended to murder or not, depending on the depth of Eric’s despair.
“Don’t you know I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since he left?”
“Don’t you think it’s time to let him grow up? There’s young men dying in Afghanistan and you’re worried about this kinda fool?”
She had me.
“Well, what am I supposed to say to that?”
“Nothing, ’cause you know I’m right. You needs to take a big chill pill, like them girls say, and let him come to you. He will, by and by.”
She was always right and I just hated her for it then.
But on to other issues, Millie and I were deeply concerned about Trip. He was so broken and morose. He wasn’t shaving. He wasn’t working. His appetite was terrible and he wasn’t even fishing, for heaven’s sake. I also suspected he wasn’t sleeping during the night. But he sure was sleeping in his clothes on the sofa in his den, all day long. And, perhaps worst of all, he wasn’t bringing me the morning papers. I’m just kidding about that, okay? I had to wonder, was he even aware that Frances Mae was in the wings?
“Oh, fine. Millie, I think Trip’s mourning has gone on long enough, don’t you? I mean, he’s got to shake himself out of this horrible wallowing misery and get back to work. I think I’m going to have another talk with him this afternoon.”
“Yeah? What you gone say?”
“I’m going to tell him that Rusty would not want him to act like this. That’s what. And I’m going to send Eric over there, too. Maybe Trip can make himself useful and give Eric some advice on women or something. Maybe Eric can get him to go out in the boat.”
“Right time for Frances Mae to come home,” Millie said, dropping spoonfuls of dough on the cookie sheet.
“What? Excuse me, but didn’t you just say we had enough trouble to contend with for a while? And I know it’s time, but what makes you think it’s the right time for her to come back?”
“ ’Cause I been working my roots to bring her home.”
“What? Why in the world would you do that?”
Millie turned around to me and put her hands on her hips. I was about to get a lecture.
“Because it’s enough! You can’t keep on running back and forth to Trip’s house. You need to get your own life back, too. And them girls ain’t got the supervision they needs and you can’t give it to them nohow. And they don’t need to be living with his misery all the day long and then all through the night, too. He crying for his dead lover all over the house and they don’t need to hear all that. It’s too confusing for them. Children need they own, even if she is Frances Mae. She’s the evil that they know and it’s always better to stay with the evil that you know.” She slipped the cookie sheet into the hot oven and closed the door with a slam.
“Wait a minute, Millie. Are you gonna stand there and tell me that the girls are better off with Frances Mae? I mean, haven’t you seen a vast improvement in Amelia? And Belle? I’ll admit, Linnie is something of a challenge, but she has a job! Even Chloe has straightened up. And all the girls are eating better, are they not? They’re not as wired.”
“Caroline? You ain’t they momma and that ain’t never gone come to pass nohow, ’eah? They daddy ain’t worth two cents right now. I don’t know how long he plans to carry on like this and that’s his business. I’m just saying, it’s time for Frances Mae to come home and see about her girls. You see about your boy and she needs to see about her girls. Amen.”
“Amen, huh? Well, fine. I’m going over there right now and taking that chili we made for them.”
“Humph. Chili. Chili ain’t
gone change the fact that it’s time for her to come home.”
I took the plastic container out of the refrigerator and picked up my purse.
“I’ll be on my cell.”
I let the door close in what might be called an adult slam, just loud enough to show I meant business, too. I got in the golf cart and pressed the gas pedal to the floor, charging across the yard at perhaps five miles an hour. Not a very dramatic getaway, I’ll admit, but it was the best I could do. Millie was telling me that I had failed to transform the girls and she was right. I had failed. And they were wearing me out.
Well, as soon as Trip’s house came into view, my heart took a lurch to my throat. Frances Mae’s SUV was in the yard. Oh, please, Lord! Not today! I had not had the time to figure out how I would deal with her.
Amelia and Belle were outside watching Chloe swim. Amelia waved to me and I waved back. I knew then why Amelia had not come into the house. Millie and I would’ve seen Frances Mae’s return all over her face. And Belle wouldn’t squeal if she knew. Linnie had started a new job that week, working in Miss Sweetie’s test kitchen. Believe it or not, she was reasonably happy. I know, that’s a hard one to swallow, but even Miss Sweetie said Linnie was a natural for the food industry.
I went right into the house. There, in the kitchen, wiping down the counters with a spray bottle and a roll of paper towels, was the odious Frances Mae.
“Don’t you know how to knock on a door?” she said.
“Well, look who’s here.” I put the chili on the table. “Where’s my brother?” The Loathsome One. I had to say, she’d lost a lot of her baby fat. She actually looked pretty good for someone with lips like tires.
“Trying to get some rest. We’d appreciate it if you’d lower your voice.”
“We?” I said. “Who is this we?” What did she mean?
“Boy, for somebody who thinks she’s so smart, you sure do have a bad memory.”
“Come on, Frances Mae, pull your claws in. I just walked in the door with a meal for your children. Can’t you say thank you?”
“We don’t need nothing from you, thank you.”
“Really? Fine. What’s going on?”
Lowcountry Summer Page 29