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Three weeks into spring—though it hardly felt it, gray and damp and cold as it was with a raw wind off the ocean—Brooke was warming some turkey soup for her dinner after feeding Jodie when she heard a shrill scream that came from Bridge and Lil’s house. She paused. The scream was followed by a long low moan like the sound of a large animal dying.
Her first reaction was to run next door. But before taking a step in that direction, she stopped to assess her priorities. She needed to turn off the burner under the soup pot. She needed to get Jodie out of the high chair and either put her in her crib or carry her with her. While she weighed that choice, she used a damp cloth to clean the applesauce from around Jodie’s mouth then removed her bib. She lifted Jodie out of the chair and carried her to the crib and set her down in it. Jodie stood holding the rail and looking at her mother.
“I’ve got to go check on Mee-mee,” Brooke said while squatting to Jodie’s height. Jodie had just recently, and spontaneously, started calling Lil “Mee-mee.” “I’ll be right back.” She turned to rush out the door.
“Mommy!” Jodie cried.
Brooke froze then turned back to her daughter. She leaned over and hugged her, considered again taking Jodie but was afraid what she might find. She didn’t want to scar her daughter for life with some horrific sight. Another long low scream came from next door. “I love you, darling. Be a good girl. I’ll be right back.”
She turned again and this time ignored her daughter’s cries and went out the door and across the breezeway and opened the side door to her in-laws’ house.
Dinner was on the kitchen table with three places set but no one there. “Bridge? Lil?” Brooke said in a cautious and timid voice. She stood for a moment to test the sounds in the house. Another moaning cry punctured the stillness. It clearly came from upstairs. Brooke ran down the hall and up the narrow stairs. When she reached the upper landing, she saw a light on in Daphne’s room. Her heart fell into her stomach. She knew she was running but felt as if her body was in slow motion. Her heart raced. Her breaths came shallow and fast. She felt dizzy but pushed onward.
She paused in the open doorway to Daphne’s room and grabbed onto the door jamb to steady herself and catch her breath. Lil was lying face down on Daphne’s twin bed, crying into the mattress. Bridge sat beside her, patting her back. But where was Daphne? What had happened to Daphne?
“Bridge?” Brooke said.
Bridge turned his head slowly. He looked at Brooke but didn’t seem to recognize her. His eyes looked dazed, far away.
“Bridge, it’s Brooke. What has happened? Where’s Daphne?”
Bridge shook his head slowly. Lil shrieked into the mattress.
“Where is Daphne?” Brooke repeated.
“I’ll kill him,” Bridge said slowly and in a low growl. His far away gaze hardened into quiet fury.
“Who? What?” Brooke asked, though she instinctively exhaled in a long sigh.
Bridge reached out with his free hand and took a piece of notebook paper off the nightstand. He held it toward Brooke in a gesture caught between surrender and outrage, his pudgy hand and thick forearm shaking.
Brooke discovered that her legs were strong again and stepped forward the two strides to take the white paper. Written on it in Daphne’s tall, open script was this message: I’ve left with Ralph. Please don’t try to find us. I’ll write soon. I promise. I love you. Daphne.
Brooke’s sigh became audible. Daphne was safe. She’d run away with Ralph Hopson, the school’s art teacher that had so freely shared his personal darkroom with his promising student. Daphne was safe.
But why hadn’t Brooke seen this coming? Daphne rarely spoke about her teacher; and when she did, she almost always called him Mr. Hopson. Brooke had never seen the two of them together. She realized suddenly that this was all planned on Daphne’s part, to keep their relationship secret. So why hadn’t Daphne confided in Brooke? She felt they were close, then reminded herself of how much in her personal life she’d kept from Daphne. She’d always thought of her choice as protecting her sister-in-law, not forcing her to choose sides. But she suddenly knew that she was also protecting herself with these secrets, ensuring that they not be accidentally or intentionally divulged. In her head she trusted Daphne; but in her gut, she still knew Daphne to be a Howard.
Lil screamed again. “My baby!” she wailed into the mattress, the words ending in another moan.
Brooke circled around the bed, set the note on the dresser, then sat next to Lil and opposite Bridge. She patted Lil’s flecked gray hair and said, “Daphne’s safe. She’ll be all right. She’s safe.”
“She’s gone!” Lil screamed. “She’ll never come back.”
Brooke shook Lil’s shoulder. “Lil, look at me.”
Her mother-in-law rolled her head enough to look up with one tear-swollen eye.
“Can you help me, please?”
Lil didn’t answer but at least she had stopped crying.
“Can you take care of Jodie for a little while?”
Lil rolled onto her side.
“If you’ll watch Jodie, I’ll go and try to find out a little more about this.”
Lil nodded slowly.
“Good. You and Bridge go back downstairs and eat your dinner. I’ll go get Jodie.”
Lil hesitated.
“Please?” Brooke said. “I need you to watch Jodie for me.”
Lil sat up.
Brooke circled back around the bed and stood before the two of them. “Don’t raise a stink till I’ve checked this out, O.K.? We don’t need the whole island gossiping about your daughter.”
Lil nodded. Bridge stared hard at Brooke.
“O.K., Bridge?”
He nodded slowly.
Brooke said, “Good. I’ll put Jodie in her PJs and be right back.”
She turned. Only then did she notice all of Daphne’s photos covering the walls. Then she remembered Daphne’s questions about whether or not she was glad she’d had Jodie. And suddenly it hit her—Daphne was pregnant with Ralph Hopson’s child.
When Brooke returned with Jodie, Lil had just finished warming their dinner and setting it on the table in serving bowls—country-style steak smothered in fried onions and peppers, mashed potatoes, butterbeans with fatback, and Lil’s special yeast rolls. Daphne’s place setting had been cleared and her chair replaced by the wooden highchair from their children’s infancy that Bridge had sanded and refinished for Jodie’s use.
Lil’s eyes were dry and surprisingly bright as she ran forward to take Jodie. “How’s my darling this evening?” she said with an edge of desperation to her voice—or perhaps that was Brooke’s imagination. “Have you come to join Mee-mee and Paw-paw for dinner?” Though Jodie had yet to name her grandfather, Lil was strongly pushing her suggestion.
Bridge sat unblinking at his seat at the head of the table.
Jodie looked at her grandmother with wide eyes. Though she often ate lunch here and sometimes Sunday dinner, this visit for supper was unprecedented.
Brooke kissed her daughter on the side of the forehead. “I’m going out for a little, baby. Mee-mee will take care of you till I get back.” She handed Jodie to Lil. She wanted to offer further reassurance about Daphne but feared mentioning the name. So she said simply, “I’ll be back by nine,” and headed out the door.
A front had moved in with a stiff wind out of the north clearing away the fog. The stars sparkled in number and clarity that still dazzled this former city girl, now nearly two years into her stay out here. She paused in the middle of the empty lane and wondered if by chance Daphne was looking at these same stars at this same moment. Then she realized that more than likely she was in some motel bed stretched out under Ralph doing what apparently they did best and without protection! Brooke sighed with a wonder tinged with envy, recalling the blind hope and trust unimpeded touch had produced in her life not so long ago.
She walked to the ferry station through the brisk dark. Buck Custis was still manning the dis
patch office, monitoring the Queen Anne’s final crossing of the day via the shortwave radio.
“Hey, Brooke. What brings you out?”
“Getting a little air, Buck. How’s the crossing going?”
“Same old, same old. Little chop with the front, head wind pushing her back about five minutes. Expecting someone?”
Brooke paused. “See Daphne today?”
Buck nodded. “Walker on the noon boat. Heard her tell Marybelle she had a doctor’s appointment. Found it odd she was walking, but that ain’t my business.”
Brooke nodded slowly.
“Thought I’d see her coming back on the six o’clock, but no walkers on that one. Figured maybe I missed her in one of the cars—Sally’s or maybe Salt’s. They came through at six.”
“Yeah. Could be.”
“What’s wrong, Brooke?”
“Nothing. Nothing wrong. Just trying to catch up with Daphne.”
“Then why don’t you check with Lil?”
“Sure. I’ll do that. Just thought I’d save myself the trip.”
“Next door?”
Brooke laughed. “You know how it gets with in-laws sometimes.”
“No, I don’t. Never had none.”
Buck was a life-long bachelor. Brooke sometimes wondered if he were gay. If so, she guessed he had lean pickings out here—but then again, what did she know about this island’s secrets? “Little tricky sometimes. No big deal.”
Buck shrugged. “So I’ve heard.”
“Enjoy the pretty night,” Brooke said. She turned to head out the door.
Behind her, Buck said, “You too. Hope you find Daffy.”
“Thanks.” Then, just before the door closed, she caught it with her foot and turned. “You haven’t seen Ralph Hopson around, have you?”
“The school teacher?”
“Yeah, the young one with the curly hair.”
“And blue eyes.” Buck suddenly blushed.
“Yeah, blue eyes and dimples,” Brooke laughed. “He owes me five bucks for the church peanut sale.”
“That was back before Christmas.”
“I know! That’s why I’m trying to collect.”
“Well good luck. He was on the ten o’clock and his van was loaded down—had the curtains drawn across the back but I could see the weight on the tires. I told Jess to put him near the middle of the boat.”
“Maybe he was headed back to college for his finals,” Brooke suggested.
“No. I believe he’d graduated. Paying off his loans by working out here.”
“Oh, yeah,” Brooke said.
“Then why’s he leaving before school is out?”
Brooke shrugged. “Maybe a family emergency.”
“With all his stuff?”
“Good night, Buck.” She turned toward the dark.
“Good luck.”
She faced back. “With what?”
“Getting your five dollars!” He laughed.
“Oh, yeah. Right.” She waved and headed into the night.
As she was passing the gate to the dock, a foghorn blast rolled in off the water, its sound strangely mournful despite the clear, brisk night. The lights of the Queen Anne twinkled far out on the horizon, between the pervasive dark of the water and the sparkling dome of the night. She could wait a half hour and talk to the crew, but what was the point? She knew the means of their escape. She now had to find out, or confirm, why. She headed back into the village.
Though only a ten-minute walk over a familiar road, it was the loneliest ten minutes Brooke had ever spent in her life. The island was so dark and still and somehow foreboding. Though she could have walked this path with her eyes closed (and maybe should have), it felt suddenly strange and hostile. She’d not been on this end of the island after dark since before she was married, and back then always accompanied by another—always a man and, after a handful of fun but unpromising frolics, always with Onion and safely wrapped in the promise of his touch and scent. Tonight was brutally empty. She hastened her step and was glad for the shelter and shadow of buildings on the outskirts of the village, even though the first structures were all empty cottages and businesses closed till summer.
She stopped at The Shipwreck, the only tavern open in the off-season. She was looking for Deena Windlass, Daphne’s best friend who had graduated from the island’s school the year before despite dropping out two years earlier to work in her dad’s tavern. She laughed at the diploma, saying it was for “the best kind of work study—people watching and beer drinking.”
Deena was sitting at the bar beside Jim Walker, universally known as Snaggletooth, who spent most of his time and slim earnings here despite having three kids and a wife sequestered in a camper hidden in the marshes on the sound side. Brooke paused in the doorway to let her eyes adjust to the indoor light but then realized she didn’t have to as the bar was nearly as dark as the lane outside.
“Well look who’s here—the savior of the Howard line,” Deena said with a gravelly voice and a low laugh. “Come join the party!”
Brooke approached the bar. “Got a minute to talk?”
“Let me see if I have time in my busy schedule.” She paused and looked around then said, “Yeah, I guess I can spare a minute. Better talk fast!”
“In private?” Brooke asked, gesturing toward a table at the far end of the narrow room.
“You can talk here. Snaggletooth don’t hear nothing, do you Snaggletooth?”
“Huh?” Snaggletooth said.
“See?”
Brooke said, “Please, Deena. It’s important.”
“Oh, all right,” Deena said. She grabbed her cigarette and her beer bottle and slid off the barstool. “Now don’t go and steal nothing,” she said to Snaggletooth.
“Huh?”
Deena laughed and followed Brooke to the far table. Before sitting, she asked, “You want anything?”
Brooke shook her head.
“Got juice, or a Shirley Temple. Heard you were off the sauce at the moment.”
“Where did you hear that?”
Deena shrugged. “Around.”
“No thanks. I’m fine.”
Deena sat opposite Brooke at the table. She stared at her as she took a drag on the cigarette. “You’re here about Daffy,” she said before releasing a long thin line of smoke out of the corner of her mouth.
“How’d you know?”
“Howard daughter flees the island with her teacher! How could I not know news big as that?”
Brooke held her finger to her lips then looked over Deena’s shoulder at Jim.
“Oh, stop, Brooke. Snaggletooth don’t know nothing and won’t know it from me. He’s got way bigger problems than this.” Still, she lowered her voice. “Besides, everyone on the island will know tomorrow morning.”
“Know what exactly?”
“What you already figured out—that Daffy Howard and Ralph Hopson are long gone and ain’t coming back, headed to South Carolina to get hitched.”
Brooke winced in surprise.
“Hadn’t figured that part out? What you think they were going to do? Live in sin? Raise a bastard? Daffy would never do that.”
Brooke exhaled slowly.
Deena continued. “And even if she were willing, noble idealist teacher-boy would have none of it. ‘Need to make this right’ he said as he banged his student every way he knew how. That’s what kills me about these mainlanders that are going to save us from ourselves. Their ideals last only to the end of their dicks then get thrown overboard like a wriggling mess of bycatch. Maybe I should let a mainlander save me one day, or night.” She took a long swallow of beer then belched. “Then again, maybe I have—a time or two.” She grinned at the thought. “But I’d never leave with him.”
“Why not?”
“I couldn’t live that lie.”
“And Daphne?”
Deena thought for a moment then said, “I hope she knows what she’s doing. She sure thinks she does.”
“Not coming back?”
“Not in this lifetime.” Deena raised the cigarette and took a long drag. Her thin and weathered face looked suddenly very old and gray, grayer even than the room’s dim light.
Brooke wandered through the quiet empty village. There were a few lights on in some of the buildings, and every so often she’d catch a glimpse of movement behind a window—a body shuffling from kitchen to couch, a cat jumping from a windowsill, the flash of activity on a black and white T.V. screen. She no longer felt threatened by the emptiness, but she did feel unspeakably lonely. Deena’s last words bounced around in her head like an epitaph.
She stepped into the general store’s vestibule to escape the night. It was well lit and close and still warm form the daytime traffic in and out of the store. Though the store had closed at six, the vestibule allowed access to the village’s mailboxes. She’d not checked theirs since yesterday morning and did so now. Between two catalogues and the electric bill was an envelope with her name on it but no address or stamp. She recognized the handwriting as Daphne’s. Daphne had a part-time job (or did) at the store and had access to the mailboxes. She must have left this late yesterday or possibly even this morning on her way to the ferry. Brooke tore open the envelope and read the handwritten letter while leaning against the mailboxes.
Dear Brooke,
I’m sorry I didn’t say good-bye in person. I knew I couldn’t do so without crying, and I’ve already cried way too much this week. Do you know how hard it is to cry in private then have to put on a smile for all those around you? Yes, you probably do know that. I’m sure you do. One more thing we have in common.
I wish to thank you for opening my eyes to the possibilities of life. I knew I wasn’t meant for this island, but it wasn’t until you came that I saw an alternative. You showed me that a woman could be her own person, with goals and dreams, and not just the appendage of a husband or father, or some old maid dusting her tea set waiting for company that never comes. A girl could have an identity independent of a family. You opened my eyes to that then Ralph opened my eyes to everything else, to art and music and poetry and photography. And suddenly I was flying. You know about that too.
I still haven’t heard back from Center. The decision notices go out next month. I would have liked to open that letter with you beside me, to cry or shriek in joy. I never would have dreamed of getting in there or even applying. But with your support and connections, I now halfway think I’ll be accepted. It would have been so much fun to share that with you!
But then I might’ve been tempted to go. Besides, by then I’d be showing and Dad would kill Ralph and my baby wouldn’t have a father. So instead I’ll keep the baby and her father (I know it’s a she, just like Jodie!) and go to college later, maybe to Center or maybe somewhere else but I will go, I promise. And even though I’m not going now, know that all the support and encouragement you gave me, about applying to Center and everything else, was still worth it, gave me the strength to be a whole person, my own person.
Give Jodie a hug for me. One of the biggest regrets I have is not being there to watch her grow up. If I send you an address, will you send me pictures?
There I go crying again. You’d think I’d run out of tears.
Take care, Brooke. Thanks for bringing me to life.
Your crying and flying sister-in-law,
Daphne.
Barrier Islands Page 22