The Bridge Between

by Lindsey Brackett

He might have been wrong about T.C. Coultrie and the metaphors.

  “Sometimes the wood’s not too good. It’s been scarred.” Mr. Coultrie hefted one of the logs still lying in the grass. “See here? This piece’ll burn right up, but it ain’t gonna make me a fire worth cooking on.” He tossed the piece aside. “You get what I’m telling you, son?”

  David held out his hand. “I believe so, sir.”

  Mr. Coultrie handed him a bundle of twigs. “Then show me.”

  David tended the fire all afternoon and into the evening as Lou bustled around with her mother and sister. More than once, he looked up and locked eyes with her father, rocking on the porch.

  At sundown, Mr. Coultrie moved back to the yard. “Stir up those coals. Let me see how you did.”

  David dug a thick stick into the embers, glowing red-hot and orange, streaks of blue in their depths.

  Mr. Coultrie clapped him on the shoulder. “Well done. Guess you can be counted on to stick with something stubborn—even if in the end you might get burned.”

  Lou crossed the yard, lugging a bucket of oysters. No doubt what this was really about.

  “I can, sir.” He held out his hand.

  Mr. Coultrie grasped it. “Good then. Let’s get to the real purpose of this fire.”

  They laid a piece of sheet metal over the fire. When drops of water on it sizzled, David took Lou’s bucket and followed her father’s directions for spreading the oysters evenly. Once popping commenced, like tiny sparklers on the Fourth of July, he helped rake the opened shells into clean metal tubs that were upended over the tables.

  Most folks had eaten by the time David joined Lou. “This is amazing.”

  She passed him a shucking knife and a set of gloves. “It’s one-of-a-kind, for sure. Not something you’d see in the city.”

  “That’s what makes it special.” He kissed her—a quick brush of his lips against her cheekbone.

  Lou looked down. “Want me to show you how to open a shell?”

  “Sure.” He copied her movements, but bore down too hard and in an instant his hand welled blood, red as the coals.

  “David!” She grasped his arm and pressed a napkin against the gash. “You’re supposed to wear the gloves.”

  “Next time I’ll listen.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. She lifted the napkin, and pushed it back down. “You need stitches.”

  No doubt. He could now feel every beat of his pulse pushing blood out that cut. But he’d had worse. “Just tie it up good, and I’ll drive over. No reason we should both miss the party.”

  Lou leaned into him like she had that day in the creek when she’d taught him to shrimp. “I don’t care if I miss the party.”

  They drove to the Medical University of South Carolina in downtown Charleston. More than once, Lou’s hands slipped from the wheel. Much as his hand hurt, it was worth it to see her worry.

  At the hospital, she sat beside him jiggling her leg, which made his cut throb all the more. “Hey.” He put his good hand on her knee. “Why don’t you go find us some coffee?”

  “You sure you’ll be all right?”

  “There are a dozen medical professionals within shouting distance. I’ll be fine.”

  She bolted from the chair, and he waited until she was gone before dropping his chin to his chest in quiet laughter. That woman. Good thing she wanted to do medical research and not actual practice.

  “David?”

  A tall man loomed over him, and he took a moment to place the face. Patrick Watson.

  “Hope you’re here for a better reason than me.” David extended his other hand before realizing it was streaked with blood from holding the napkin.

  Patrick eyed the bloody palm. “Buddy of mine had an accident on the Ocean Ridge site. What in the world did you do?”

  “First oyster roast.”

  “Ah.” Patrick grinned. “You’re supposed to wear a glove.”

  “Lou pointed that out.”

  Patrick chuckled. “I’ll bet she did.” He held David’s eyes for a moment too long for comfort, but David clenched his jaw and refused to look away. “Y’all serious?”

  He lifted one shoulder and then refused to wince. The pain had spread. “I hope so.”

  Patrick’s ghost of a smile hinted at something deep and sad. “She wouldn’t have brought you here if she wasn’t.”

  Chapter 20

  “Y’all ready to get dirty?” Lou addressed the students away from the heat of the roaring fire. David had tried to redeem himself for last night by being overly helpful today.

  “Tonight?” One of the girls asked, wide-eyed.

  “Well, shucking oysters isn’t exactly pristine.” Lou eyed the girl’s white fleece. “I’ve got some old coats hanging inside if you need.”

  “Professor Halloway’s mother had to loan me a jacket at my first roast, too.” Liam winked at her.

  “I’ll go get them.” She fled, away from the students’ curious stares, to the safety of her kitchen.

  David was there, washing his hands. “You get too close to the fire, Lou? Your face is awfully red.”

  “I’m fine.”

  He patted her shoulder as he went back out the door. “If you say so.”

  Long as she stayed in here until her cheeks—and now butterflies—subsided, she would be fine. Sometimes even her mama had hidden in the kitchen from awkward situations.

  By the time Lou gathered an armful of outerwear and came out again, David stood beside Grace at the fire pit. She said something, he threw back his head and laughed, and she pressed a gloved hand on his forearm. Lou felt a sudden sour taste in her mouth. So, David and Grace weren’t just friends.

  They were friendly.

  “Mama, look out!”

  A huge beast of a dog leapt at her. Lou careened backwards, lost her footing, and landed in a heap while the dog licked at her face.

  “We got him, Mom!” J.D. yelled. Her boys pulled at the leash someone had obviously let go.

  “Here, I got you.” Liam put a hand under her and helped her to her feet while David and Grace rushed over.

  “Lou, I’m so, so sorry.” Grace grabbed the beast’s leash. “I thought surely he wouldn’t get loose from three boys.”

  “He’s yours?”

  “Why, yes. This is Hank.” She swung her head back to David. “You didn’t ask her?”

  He gave the sheepish grin Lou had come to know too well during their marriage. He’d always been unselfish to a fault, but he also often forgot anything he didn’t think a big deal. Like getting milk on the way home or switching the laundry before it soured in the machine. Little things that had become hurdles to Lou’s system.

  “Sorry, ladies. I forgot. Lou, is it all right if Grace brings the dog? He’s a foster, you know. And he gets awfully nervous when he’s left alone.”

  “Pees on everything,” Tennessee confirmed from over David’s left shoulder.

  Lou dusted at her jeans in avoidance of David’s pleading gaze—and Grace’s wide-eyed innocence. “Well, since he’s already here, it’s not like I’ll send him back.”

  “Really, I’m so sorry.” Grace rubbed under the beast’s chin. “I’d make him apologize if I was capable of such a thing.”

  “Just keep him away from the fire.” Lou’s hip ached when she turned.

  Liam took her arm again. “Why don’t you sit down for a minute?” He’d gathered up the scattered coats under one arm, and with the other, led her over to a lawn chair.

  She sat, frowning. Her mother never had a rest when hosting.

  Once the boys had taken half the college kids and Hank off to romp at the creek bank, David appeared at her side holding a red Solo cup. “Figured you might need this.”

  “Thanks.” This time the graze of his fingers against hers didn’t make her stomach quiver. Seeing how Grace had angled her body toward his, hearing the familiar tone in which she’d said his name, Lou no longer felt any guilt about supper with Dr. Liam Whiting. Cle
arly, David had been having suppers of his own.

  “The boys like that dog.”

  One of them had found a thick piece of driftwood to hurtle back and forth and make Hank fetch. The dog trotted back gleefully, the wood dangling from his giant jaws, and Cole playfully wrestled it free and flung it again, this time toward Mac.

  “Boy’s got an arm.” Liam said from the chair beside hers.

  David grunted, though Lou didn’t know how he could resent the observation. He’d taught Cole to throw.

  “They love baseball.” She tilted her head toward David. “But this one thinks they’re big enough for football now.”

  “She wouldn’t let me sign them up until they got some height and weight.” David rubbed the back of his neck. “Said we spent too long praying over them in the NICU to let them get concussions on a football field.”

  “Sounds wise.”

  Liam’s words were met with another grunt from David. “Want me to wet down that burlap and get a bushel going?”

  She almost choked on her sip of wine. “You sure you remember how?”

  “I remember.” David’s eyes narrowed, and Lou wondered what else he remembered. Her parents’ oyster roasts had bound their courtship from beginning to end. Lately, he’d been open and unguarded, but tonight—with her at least—he closed off tight as one of those shells.

  “I’ll help.” Liam stood.

  Her sister and brother-in-law arrived while David and Liam were hosing down burlap sacks. Hank, who must have lost interest in the driftwood, bounded over to greet new guests. He knocked Carolina’s picnic basket right out of her arms and a bottle of hot sauce shattered against the cement blocks ringing the fire.

  Grace, her face the color of the Tabasco, dragged him away and shut him in the cab of Tennessee’s truck while order was restored. In the end, John was elected grill master, and Grace caved to Hank’s whining and the boys’ promises to keep him on his leash. Several of Liam’s students, also enamored with the behemoth, stood guard around him and the triplets as they tried teaching Hank simple commands.

  “Lou, doesn’t Hank remind you of that dog your parents had back when the kids were young?” Grace took the platter of raw vegetables Lou had fetched. She set it on the table, almost exactly where Mama always had. Lou resisted the urge to adjust it.

  “Beau?”

  Grace snapped her fingers. “Yes, Beau.”

  Her mama’s basset hound hadn’t exhibited a fourth of Hank’s energy. For heaven’s sake, the dog would hide in the bathtub if it thundered or a crowd of people gathered.

  The next driftwood toss landed at Grace’s feet and when Hank retrieved it, she grabbed his collar and turned his face to Lou. “They have the same eyes, don’t you think?”

  Lou thought a lot of things that didn’t have to do with either dog.

  “Hey, Mom, don’t you think we need a dog? I bet Grace would let us have Hank.” Cole pulled on the leash. “C’mon, boy, let’s play.”

  “I don’t think so, boys.” Lou looked through the steam rising off the metal and met Grace’s gaze. “Dogs require a lot of attention.”

  “Your mother’s right.” Grace tipped up her chin. “Hank would be a lot to take on. He needs constant affection.”

  Had Grace meant to change her word? Lou turned away and focused on the popping of the oysters.

  She tightened her hold on her emotions. Even though she knew—a little steam was all it took to crack the tightest shell.

  Chapter 21

  “Heard that dog of yours caused quite the ruckus over at Lou’s Saturday night.” Gloria Jenkins settled her wide seat into the chair at Grace’s sink, all ready for her wash and set—and a dose of good gossip.

  “I got him under control.” Grace turned on the water and aimed the nozzle at Gloria’s steel-colored head. Usually she considered tolerating Gloria one of her acts of service, but not today. Maybe with water running in her ears, the woman would keep quiet.

  “I told you before, Gracie—”

  Grace ground her teeth. She’d told Gloria for the last twenty years she hated being called that.

  “—ain’t no reason you can’t take those critters up to the shelter in Charleston. Nobody says you have to take in every stray left behind by good-for-nothing tourists.” The fact the tourists’ presence kept life stable on the island meant nothing to Gloria. She’d been born here, and she’d die here, regardless of how many people rented beach houses and booked fishing tours.

  Maybe Grace could hush the woman with a scalp massage.

  “I also heard Lou’s ex-husband and you are getting pretty chummy. You been seen walking together on the beach.” Gloria raised her brows with a scalp full of suds. The effect reminded Grace of Munch’s The Scream. Fitting, of course.

  “David and I are just friends.” She didn’t owe this woman an explanation, but anything she said would be repeated over hot toddies that afternoon at Gloria’s Garden Club meeting. Might as well set the record straight while she had the chance. “Sometimes I bring Hank over to run around with the boys when he has them. Wears everyone out.”

  “They’re giving those boys whiplash raising them like that. Back and forth, one weekend here, one weekend there. At least they both bring ’em to church.” Gloria held the towel around her head as Grace helped her to her feet. “Now I know you did a fine job with Tennessee—eventually.”

  Grace cast her eyes to the salon’s drop ceiling. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “But you know firsthand a boy needs a daddy all the time. What Lou was thinking letting that man walk away, I’ll never figure.”

  “You know, Ms. Gloria, it’s really none of my business.” Or yours either.

  “Sure it is. You’re keeping company with him, and your son has his sights set on Cora Anne.”

  “That he does.”

  “So you may want to cool things down with his father-in-law to-be until all that’s settled.” Gloria leaned her head back and sighed. “I do like it when you do that massage thing, Gracie.”

  “Let me get the comb through it first.” Like pulling through steel wool, and Grace didn’t try to be gentle. Gloria must’ve got the message because she stayed quiet for the rest of her cut and style.

  While Grace cleaned her combs, Gloria wrote out her check in broad strokes. The woman was going to live to be a hundred and never show a sign of frailty. “You give David my best next time y’all are together, all right?”

  Grace whipped around. “David Halloway and I are not together, Ms. Gloria. And I’d appreciate it if everyone wouldn’t make assumptions. He’s here for his wife, for goodness’ sake.”

  The moment the words were out, she clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, gracious. Please don’t repeat that.”

  Gloria’s eyes twinkled. “Repeat what, dear? After all, anything I say is merely gossip.”

  ~~~

  “Aw, Mom. Really? Gloria Jenkins?” Tennessee dropped to his seat at her dining table, looking bone weary but clean, at least. A day spent working with drywall left him covered in a fine film of white. When he showed up at her door asking to join her for supper, she’d sent him over to his little A-frame to shower and change. While the beef stew kept warm, she went back on her resolution to eat less carbs and made a batch of biscuits.

  “She gets me all riled up and I can’t think straight.” Grace set down his bowl. “Makes me actually feel bad for Louisa, having to call that woman family.”

  “How’s she related anyhow?”

  “Third cousin on Annie’s father’s side.”

  He grinned at her. “How do you keep up with these things?”

  “People talk when they’re getting their hair done.”

  They ate for a few moments until she could stand the suspense no longer. “You got something to tell me?”

  “Sure. These are great biscuits.” He pushed back from the table. “But I’d like a little of those peach preserves to go with ’em, so why don’t you look this over while I get it.”


  He set a small velvet box on the table. A box the color of the ocean in summer. Grace grabbed it. Inside, nestled a ring of fine simplicity. Gold band, solitaire diamond, studded on the side with sapphires.

  She met her son’s eyes with tears in hers. “It’s breathtaking.”

  “It’s an antique, of course. Hannah helped me out in a shop downtown.”

  So he’d been shopping on King Street. She felt a pang he hadn’t asked her to come along, but he was a grown man now, who didn’t need his mama to pick out the ring he wanted to give the woman he loved.

  “Cora Anne will love it.”

  He grinned. “I’m going to talk to David first. And Lou. Think I should ask them together or separate?”

  Grace fingered the stones and thought of the words she’d hurled at Gloria that afternoon. “Together. That’s what David wants, and truthfully, I think Lou probably does too.”

  Tennessee covered her hand with his work-callused one. She closed her eyes, and for a moment she could feel Patrick, as palpable in the room as the smells of beef stew and fresh biscuits.

  “Someday, Mom, if you want it, I think God will send you someone.”

  Grace repeated the words she needed to be true. “You and your dad are all I’ve ever needed.”

  Too bad no one needed her. Not anymore.

  Chapter 22

  Friday afternoon, Lou stood knee-deep in the creek. High tide and the water rushed in gentle swirls around her father’s old galoshes. She kept the wind from her face with her mama’s straw gardening hat tied beneath her chin.

  She took samples from different areas and marked each cup with block letters with a black Sharpie. The time, date, location—more specific than Russell Creek at the Coultrie farm. She listed “old oyster bed” and “small tributary app. 25 feet” and “strong flow”. Each sample would be sent back to the college lab for further study, then to the research hub at Clemson. Probably over to the Army Corps of Engineers too. There were so many fingers stirring this pot of Liam’s, she couldn’t keep up.

  She knew one thing for sure. This wasn’t the same creek she’d been raised on. Since moving home, she’d heard the locals murmuring. How Big Bay Creek behind The Hideaway was now useless for gathering. How they didn’t dare eat anything pulled from the ponds and estuaries of South Edisto. The Edisto River split in two and rimmed the island. The north remained, for the most part, fertile. But the south suffered the pollution of overpopulation.