Tennessee settled his hands on Grace’s shoulders. “We just wanted to see you is all. I’ve got some news I thought you’d enjoy.” He went to his bag and retrieved the engagement announcement that had appeared in Charleston’s Post and Courier. His grandmother took it, fingers trembling, and smoothed out the crease.
She squinted at the print then lifted her eyes to his. “This you, boy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Going to marry a pretty little girl.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I had a pretty little girl once …” She swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Gracie was her name. I think she got married, too.”
Grace stood, thinking to help her, but Mother shuffled right over to a box, riffled through and produced a roll of Scotch tape. She spoke to her back. “I did get married to Patrick. Remember? Tennessee is our son.”
Her mother’s hands and head shook together. “Gracie’s only a girl. I sent her away to live with someone better. Maybe someday I’ll see her again.” She stuck tape to the wall, her tongue between her teeth, her only focus hanging the picture of the family she no longer knew.
~~~
“Tell me about it.” Tennessee’s words came quietly, over the platter of fried green tomatoes at the bustling restaurant downtown. Grace hadn’t wanted to eat. She’d wanted to do nothing but wash the visit with her mother down the drain of the hotel shower and collapse into bed, before the memories reared up and took her under those waves of grief she’d long ago learned to ride.
But her son wouldn’t let her wallow, wouldn’t let her drown. So much like his father.
“She’s been sick a long time.” The easiest explanation, the one she gave those kind ladies on the prayer team at church whenever someone got a whiff Grace had family of her own.
He shook his head. “I know, and the Bells brought you to Edisto. When did you decide to find her?”
“I didn’t. She found me—in one of her more lucid times. By then I was a mother myself.” She offered him a half-smile. “And I couldn’t imagine someday not having a relationship with you. But …” She twisted the napkin in her lap. “She would never get the treatment she really needed, and mental illness was harder to handle then. Patsy and Robert helped me get her into the home.” How she missed those kind souls. They’d have been her son’s surrogate grandparents, as well, but they’d both passed when he was young.
“You’re a wonder, Mom. How’d you survive?”
“I had your father.” Patrick Watson with his easy smile and strong arms, taking her wobbling tray of sweet tea glasses before they could spill. She could see him in Tennessee—every day.
“I’m sorry you’ve lost so much.” He hunched forward, his eyes soft with tears she didn’t often see him shed. “It’s not fair.”
“I told you a long time ago, life isn’t fair, but God is good.” Though sometimes, like when she came here, that was hard to remember.
Chapter 41
“What do you think, Dad? Major League here, huh?” Cole flexed and mimed pitching a ball at the back of his brother’s head as they rumbled home from practice.
“Sure thing, if you work hard.” David tried not to be one of those dads pinning all his dreams—and Cole’s—on the Major League, but the tantalizing what-if was worth a try sometimes.
“We could be the Halloway Triplets. The crowd would love it.”
In the front seat, J.D. raised his head from his algebra homework. “I’ll go to college and play as long as it’s a good one, but that’s it.”
Mac leaned forward and rapped him on the head. “Listen, Einstein, not all of us have your brains.”
“You could if you’d crack those books occasionally.” David swung the car into the farmhouse drive, where the canopy of trees had begun to bud for spring. He pulled behind Liam’s Land Rover and swallowed the growl that rose in his throat.
“Dr. Whiting’s here again?” Cole rolled his eyes.
“Again?” David kept his voice even, though he fisted his hand around the seatbelt release. Not a day went by he didn’t regret this deal Lou and he had made. Maybe it was time to figure out just how serious Liam Whiting may be.
“Yeah, he took Mom to dinner the other night,” Mac reported, swinging from the jeep. “She let us stay home and watch Star Wars.”
Lou was nowhere in sight, but David spotted Liam down near the dock. He lifted an arm in hello before unloading the bat bags. By the time he’d stacked everything on the porch, the boys were pillaging the kitchen, and Liam headed his way.
“David,” he called, “Lou asked me to tell you she took Hank over to Grace. I expect she’ll return soon.”
David nodded, sizing up this man who had given Lou back her sense of purpose. He couldn’t resent someone who brought a light back into her eyes, much as he wished the professor would confine himself to Charleston. Liam stood relaxed in his waders and fisherman’s jacket, thick gloves slick with pluff mud.
Behind him, at the creek, David could see a half-dozen college students with nets skimming the water. “What are y’all working on today?”
“Observing the shrimp spawning.”
“Sounds interesting.” He followed Liam down to the water’s edge.
The professor showed him the tiny creature. “They always return to the same place.” He spoke with reverence. “Amazing what nature can do that we cannot.”
David’s jaw twitched. “But sometimes we can.” He changed the subject. “What did Lou document today?”
“So she’s shown you?”
He bristled at the implication Lou’s research was a secret he might not have known, one kept between her and this man who shared her sense of order and pattern with the natural world. “Of course. She’s very talented.”
“I’ve encouraged her to present it at the symposium in May. Will help set her apart for a doctoral program.”
“Doctorate?”
Liam paused in the packing of his supplies. “You didn’t know?”
David rolled his shoulders. “She’s mentioned it before.”
Years before. When he’d wanted to have more children and she’d wanted to get out of the high school lab. They’d agreed. Baby and then Lou would be back to school. He’d manage the household while she pursued her dream. But that baby had turned into months of trying, then a round of fertility drugs, and then they were having triplets. Lou didn’t mention her doctorate again and neither did he, even as she sank under waves of grief from which he couldn’t pull her out.
David turned his gaze to the spartina grass that waved in the evening breeze, protecting the delicate ecosystem from which came miniscule creatures who knew nothing but their way home.
He forced out the words. “Thank you for encouraging her.”
Liam swung the bag on his shoulder. “I can’t take all the credit. She told me the timing really couldn’t be better, since you were here.”
“Glad to be of service.”
The professor walked with him back toward the house, students trailing behind. The boys were swinging on the tire again, making the tree branch groan in protest. David cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “One at a time.”
J.D. and Mac jumped off and began pushing Cole wildly.
Liam laughed. “Brothers.”
“You have any family around?”
“Nah … just me. And the ex.” Liam lowered his voice like a conspirator. “She sure doesn’t offer to help me cook dinner.”
David stepped back, trying to read this man, but Liam had turned to his students. “Got everything packed? Let’s head on back.” He returned and extended his hand to David. “I’ll see you Saturday night?”
The engagement party. David gripped Liam’s hand in return. “Saturday night.”
“Your boys Braves fans?”
The question was so off-kilter, David nearly stumbled. “Of course.”
“Yankee doubleheader on Saturday. Guess I’ll slip in my ear buds.” Liam shook his head.
“But from how Lou’s described Mrs. Watson, I fear the wrath.”
“You most definitely should.” He clarified. “Fear the wrath.”
“If I risk it, you going down with me?”
The offer was tempting. He’d groaned checking the schedule and seeing the conflict. But—“I’d be as afraid of Lou as I am Charlotte Watson. You’re on your own.”
“Ah, well. Only live once, I figure.”
“Heads up!” The boys had abandoned the tire swing to throw the football left on the bottom porch step. Cole’s enthusiasm meant J.D. needed to go long and he might have made it—if Liam hadn’t snagged the ball neat as a running back on Friday night.
He fist-pumped the boys who made suitable exclamations.
“Whoa, Dad, did you see that?” Mac caught the return spiral, shaking his head. “And he’s older than you.”
If his boys hadn’t been so wide-eyed, and so oblivious to the awkwardness swirling around the air that spun that football, David might have been offended. But he couldn’t help but laugh.
Liam joined in. “Are they saying that was pretty good for an old guy?”
“It was, professor,” one of the male students confirmed.
“Well, in that case, as you all say, I’m out.” Liam stuck out his hand. David shook it again, feeling he’d just agreed to dinner with his enemy and yet, strangely, cheered by the prospect.
The group emptied the drive and only a few moments later, while he proved to his sons that he, too, could still catch a decent pass, Lou pulled in.
“Hey.” Her generic greeting was surely meant for them all, but when the boys just waved, her gaze went straight to his.
He threw the ball back to Cole and turned from the game. “How was Grace’s trip?”
“I don’t really know. She was pretty quiet. Seemed glad to have that beast back though.”
J.D. jogged over, ready for Cole’s pass. “Can’t believe you didn’t let us say goodbye, Mom. No fair.”
“Y’all said goodbye this morning and then changed and left me a muddy mess in the laundry room. Once was enough.” Looping her purse over her shoulder, Lou rubbed her temples.
David wanted to slip his hand under her short ponytail and knead her neck into a different kind of tension entirely. Instead, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “By the way, I got a lead on a golden over in Ravenel. Want to drive over and check it out next week?”
Her eyes skittered across the yard. “Hank’s been a handful.”
“Not all dogs are like Hank.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
“Are you saying you changed your mind?” David kept his voice neutral. He counted on this. Something else they’d have together.
“I might need more time to think about it is all.”
“Let me know what you decide.”
Lou winced. Almost as if she’d prefer to have him tell her she’d had enough time to make up her mind. She huffed out a sigh. “We can go look.”
He let the grin spread wide, knowing if he offered it to her just right, his smile would edge one from her. Lou pursed her lips, and then pressed them flat, the corners just tipping up.
Satisfied, David followed her up the porch steps. “Need any help?”
“With laundry?”
He shrugged. “With anything.”
Her laugh sounded brittle. “Don’t get me started.” She pulled at the screen and stood, holding it open. “Come on. I’m about to make a mean frozen pizza.”
He took the door from her and they stood, framed in it, like a photograph from the past, frozen in time. Reaching out a hand, he stroked her cheek with his thumb, heard her catch of breath. He let his hand linger against her jaw, felt her swallow as her eyes searched his. “I mean it, Lou. Anything you need.”
She nodded against his palm, and he withdrew his hand and himself, giving her back the only thing he really could. The space between them and the freedom to choose.
Chapter 42
Lou considered herself detail-oriented, but dealing with Charlotte reminded her of working needlepoint with her mother, and it gave her nearly the same headache. Every detail of the party had been scrutinized—though with very little compromise. The boys would have to wear tuxes. No two ways about it.
“The tailor will deliver directly to me on Saturday morning.” Charlotte told Lou. “Less risk of … contamination, shall we say, before they arrive?”
Contamination, her foot. Lou swept furiously at the mud dried on the porch. She’d give Charlotte something to be contaminated about.
“Whoa, Mom, you trying to take the paint off with the dirt?” Cora Anne stepped back from the steps as Lou flung the last of the clods toward the yard.
“Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”
“You must be in a real tizzy if you didn’t even hear me drive up.”
Lou shrugged. “Got a lot on my mind, sweetheart. What are you doing here?” She leaned on the broom handle, admiring her daughter. She never tired of these impromptu visits. Their relationship had been dry as the porch’s mud tracks for far too long.
“You know I’ve got this photography project I’m working on for the museum, and thought I’d run a couple of the unknowns by you.”
“Sure.”
They settled on the ratty sofa in the den. Cora Anne pretended it was hard to get comfortable—the family’s new tactic for suggesting she replace the furniture. Lou might come around to it faster if they’d all stop acting like it was such a big deal.
Cora Anne spread five photographs in the sepia tone of the seventies across the table. “These are definitely from the building of Ocean Ridge after David Lybrand had to sell Oristo. We’ve identified him.” She tapped a man in the photo’s center. “But we need help with the rest.”
Lou pulled a photo close to her nose and squinted. “How’d you miss picking out Patrick?”
“What?”
She pointed to a tall man in profile with the other five, leaning on shovels and wearing hard hats. “The Ocean Ridge Resort was his first job out here. What he did when his parents cut him off.”
“Tennessee never mentioned it.”
“Maybe he just forgot, but I can tell you.” Lou swept the rest of the pictures into a stack. “I can’t help you, but Grace could. They met while he was on that project.”
“Guess I’ll head over there then.”
“Why don’t we go down to the beach and get dinner? The boys won’t be back until later. Dad took them for their tux fittings.”
Cora Anne cringed. “Sorry about that.”
“Not your fault.” Lou stood, raised her arms over her head, and stretched down into the small of her back where she held all her stress in a knot. If she could figure out just the right way to bend, maybe it would loosen and she’d be flooded with all those endorphins athletes spoke of—a sudden rush of ecstasy and relief.
“Mom, I do have one more thing I wanted to ask.” Cora Anne bit her lip and ran her fingers over the loose threads in the plaid weave. “Can I move in here until the wedding?”
“Really?” She dropped her arms with the rush of delight. Maybe she’d untethered that knot after all.
“I was only in the cottage through winter, remember? Tennessee wants to rent it this summer and put the extra income toward our new house.” Cora Anne’s eyes sparkled. “We’ll keep a week in July open for the reunion, of course.”
“Of course …” But Lou’s mind leapt ahead to logistics. “I could move downstairs.” She’d already been using the room where Mama drew her last breath, so surely that would be all right. The wedding was in June, so this would only last a few weeks, really, since it was practically April—
“I thought you might move into Nan and Granddaddy’s room upstairs, and I’ll take yours. Seems the most practical.”
Practical. How impractical to keep her parents’ bedroom preserved. Once she’d been able to make decisions based on practicality—and then learn to live with them. Joy evaporated as a cloud of gr
ief descended, but Lou shook it off. She could do this. One small change at a time. “Mama …”
“You’ll have to help me.” Her voice broke.
Cora Anne stood and pulled her close. “You know I will.”
Upstairs, Cora Anne passed a hand lovingly over her grandmother’s vanity. “Can’t you just see her sitting here, primping those curls for church?”
Lou had a different vision. She saw herself, seven years old, face pulled into a pout as her mother brushed and tugged and smoothed her long dark hair into braids for school. When she’d finally had enough of the scalp torture every morning, she’d taken Mama’s sewing scissors and cut those braids off with one decisive snip.
She winced at the vanity. “You can have this if you want.”
“I’d love it.” Cora Anne sat on the stool and gently pulled open drawers that rattled with perfume bottles and ancient pots of rouge. Lou turned and braced her hand against the doorframe, overcome by the floral smell that evoked her mother’s presence.
“Mama?”
When David’s parents died, she’d thought him strong and stable until the day came that the closet in the bedroom was the only thing he had left to empty. And she found him, curled in the corner, weeping into his mother’s bathrobe, which smelled of cigarette smoke and peppermint. She’d gathered him in her arms and promised him she wouldn’t leave too.
Cora Anne touched her shoulder. “Mama?”
“I can’t do this right now.” The sob catching in her throat spilled over and she pulled away, seeking shelter in her own room, where the scent of roses didn’t linger.
The shadows had stretched long across her chenille bedspread when the gentle tapping on her door stirred her awake.
“Lou, can I come in?”
She pushed up on her elbow, disoriented, wondering why David was here—
And all the past few months came back in a rush that took her breath. Collapsing back against her pillows, she must have made a sound that alarmed him because he entered without her consent.
“Hey …” He came over to the bed and sat beside her, stroking back the hair now stuck to her puffy cheeks. “What happened?”
The Bridge Between Page 16