Chesapeake Summer (4 page)

V
erna Lee sat on the weathered dock beside an old pontoon boat, hugged her knees to her chest and reveled in a day of freedom. The marina, nestled in a flat expanse of marsh grass, was at its most serene at this time of morning, long after the commercial shrimp trawlers had motored to fishing grounds but still too early for the pleasure cruisers. Snowy egrets shared the pilings with brown terns, gulls circled over her head and dragonflies and mosquitoes skimmed across the water's surface. She was conscious of the silence, of gray water and blue sky and green grass, of hot, humid air, the taste of salt on her lips, the black flies biting at her legs and the thick, brackish smell of the bay, teeming with life. Somewhere, close by, was Marshy Hope Creek, its Peninsula Bank, John's Food King, Taft's Hardware—the synthetic world built up along the banks of the Chesapeake. But here and now, there was only silence.

Lizzie was late but Verna Lee wasn't concerned. She would show or she wouldn't. Either way, the day would move along with or without her friend. They'd planned on clamming at Tom's Cove, swimming and then maybe grabbing a bite to eat at Steamers. Bailey loved the ice cream at the Island Creamery and Verna Lee was set to indulge him.

She must have dozed because she woke to Lizzie's breathy voice. “Sorry we're late. Bailey slept in this morning and after the night we had, I didn't have the heart to wake him.”

Verna Lee stood and stretched. “No problem. What happened?”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows and nodded at Bailey. “I'd rather not say.”

“Suit yourself.” She tousled the boy's dark hair. “How're you doing, Bailey?”

He stared at her with expressionless, black eyes.

Verna Lee frowned. “What's the matter, honey? Don't you have anything to say to Auntie Verna Lee?”

Bailey remained silent.

Verna Lee looked at Lizzie. “What's going on?”

Lizzie bit her lip. “Can't we just get started?”

“Sure.” She gestured toward the boat. “Hop in.”

Lizzie, clad in worn cutoff shorts, a shirt tied in a knot under her breasts and stained deck shoes, jumped into the boat.

Verna Lee took Bailey's hand. “One big leap, Bailey.”

Bailey jumped into Lizzie's waiting arms. Verna Lee unwound the line attaching the boat to the dock, hopped onto the deck and started the outboard motor. It revved into life at the first pull and they were off toward the channel. The whisper of a cool breeze blew across the deck.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, careful to dodge the sandbars, Verna Lee pointed out the red-and-white stripes of the lighthouse. Bailey nodded, climbed to the foredeck and lay on his stomach, head over the edge of the boat in an attempt to spot the local fish that had earned this part of the cove the name
an angler's paradise.

Verna Lee kept her voice low. “Tell me what's happening.”

Lizzie narrowed her eyes against the sun. “Quentin came over last night. We had a fight. Bailey woke up. He hasn't said a word since.”

“I thought you were through with the judge.”

“I am, but he's resisting. He mentioned something about taking back the house.”

“Tell the son of a bitch you'll sue him for child support.”

“I can't prove anything, Verna Lee.”

“You won't have to. The scandal alone would make it difficult for him to live here. He won't want that.”

“It won't be easy for me and Bailey, either.”

“Is it easy now?”

Lizzie sighed. “No, but there might be a better way.”

“What's that?”

“I'm going to ask Quentin to give my daddy's land back.”

Verna Lee shook her head and lifted the mop of curls off the back of her neck. “That's a tall order. I think you'd have more luck with the house.”

“The house means taxes I can't afford. The land is nothing but undeveloped swamp. Taxes are low. I can sell off a small part for enough to buy a mobile home. That's all we need. I think I can swing it without—” She stopped.

“How will you live?”

Lizzie crossed her ankles, closed her eyes and tilted her face toward the sky. “I'll apply for Aid to Dependent Children. Then I'll go to school.”

“What will you study?”

“Nursing. I can start out learning to be a licensed vocational nurse.” She shrugged. “After that, if I'm good at it, I could take more classes, maybe even earn a degree.”

“What about Bailey?”

“I'll find somebody to watch him while I'm gone.” She pushed the hair back off her face. “Maybe I'll ask Drusilla.”

Verna Lee didn't say anything.

“You're not buying it, are you?” Lizzie asked.

“It's not that. I'm just wondering if you plan on staying here. Salisbury is the closest community college. That's a long commute. Even if you managed it, what about after you're finished? Where do you plan to work?” The unspoken message was clear.

“This is my home, Verna Lee. I know that certain people don't want me around, but others won't mind.” She smiled. “Who I am doesn't bother you.”

“We've known each other a long time.”

Lizzie considered her friend. “Why doesn't it bother you?”

“I didn't say that it doesn't bother me. I hate that you have to support yourself by selling your body. But I understand why you do it. You've had it rough from the beginning.”

“Don't be feeling sorry for me, Verna Lee. I don't want pity.”

“I don't pity you. I admire you.”

“Really?”

Verna Lee nodded. “The most amazing thing about you is that you don't make excuses. You just take what you're given and keep going. What's not to admire about that?”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“I hope you get your land back.” Verna Lee spread her arm to encompass the water, land and sky. “Look at all this.” Flat marshland covered with coarse grass grew along the shoreline. Haughty cormorants, their long legs rooted in the sand, waited patiently for the leap of flashing silver that signaled lunch was at hand. Egrets, blue heron and an occasional bald eagle sailed across the tranquil sky. Gulls circled the pilings, their sharp eyes intent on a pair of terns arguing over the remains of a mussel. Farther down, pine forests grew right up to the edge of the sand. The harsh soil, rich in salt, deterred all but the fittest. Weak and diseased Virginia pine lay dead on the shore, their white salt-encrusted roots faceup on the banks. The air was alive with the chirping of cicadas, the croaking of frogs and the screams of gulls. Nearly hidden in the shade of an enormous pine, a family of deer waited, silent and motionless.

Quick tears rose in her eyes, momentarily blurring her vision. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

“It's beautiful,” Lizzie replied quietly. “I mean no disrespect, Verna Lee. I know how you feel about this land. But I have Bailey to think of and we need to live.” She touched her friend's shoulder. “Besides, it belongs to the Wentworths. I'm not sure Quentin will give it back.”

“I have a strong feeling he will.”

“Why is that?”

“We wouldn't be having this conversation if you didn't think it was as good as settled. You have an ace up your sleeve. What is it that you aren't telling me?”

Lizzie's smile faded. “There are some things that aren't meant to be told.”

A cold chill made its way toward Verna Lee's heart. She fought it back. “If you need anything, Lizzie, you can count on me.”

“I know that. It's a comfort to me.”

“Maybe some of that Mississippi Mud ice cream from the Island Creamery will get Bailey talking again.”

Lizzie glanced at her son. His flamingo-thin legs, mosquito-bitten and brown as dried berries, looked even longer jutting out of last summer's threadbare shorts. His hair badly needed cutting and the way he favored the right side of his mouth when he chewed made her wonder if he should see a dentist. She sighed. Would there ever be a time when she didn't have to worry about money? “I'm sure he'd like that. Thank you for thinking of him, Verna Lee.”

Verna Lee nodded and turned away, angry at the swift and unexpected emotion that closed her throat. People like Lizzie were grateful for the simplest kindness while others were never satisfied. It all boiled down to expectations. If they were low to begin with, every gift was cherished, no matter how small. She couldn't help contrasting Bailey and his mother with the spoiled children, and their parents, she'd wasted nine years of her life attempting to educate.

Verna Lee dropped her beach bag, stepped out of her sandals and turned on the hose to rinse her feet. Drusilla kept an immaculate kitchen and didn't appreciate sand on her floor.

“Is that you, Verna Lee?” her grandmother called out from the back porch.

“It's me, Gran. Can you bring me a clean towel?”

“Give me a minute. I'm folding laundry.” A few minutes later Drusilla opened the screen, handing over a warm towel. “Lordy, I thought you'd never get home. Where you been?”

“I took Lizzie and Bailey out on the boat.”

“Are you hungry, child? It's way past supper-time.”

“No, thanks. I've eaten.”

Drusilla sat on the step while her granddaughter towel dried her legs. “How's Lizzie?”

“Well enough, I guess, considering her circumstances.” Verna Lee sat down beside Drusilla. “I wish I could do more to help her. She's thinking about going to school to be a nurse.”

Drusilla nodded. “That's a good thing.”

“I wonder if she'll ever be free of Quentin Wentworth.”

Verna Lee twisted the towel into a point and began drying between her toes.

“She'll be free soon enough.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You missed all the commotion today.”

“Commotion, in Marshy Hope Creek?” Verna Lee laughed. “You're kidding.”

“No, missy, I'm not. Miz Wentworth tipped her car over on Highway 39. She was on her way to visit her sister in Mississippi.”

“Is she hurt?”

“She's more'n hurt. She's dead.”

Verna Lee gasped. “Are you sure?”

“Maurice, from the dry cleaners, was carrying clean shirts back to the judge. He heard it from Camille, Miz Wentworth's housekeeper. Sheriff Grimes and the judge identified her body. Miz Wentworth was burned bad. They knew it was her because of the car. Camille say the car flipped over and went up in flames.”

Verna Lee thought for a minute. “Highway 39 is a straight road. Was she drinking?”

Drusilla's eyebrows flew north. “Miz Wentworth? Not on your life. Camille say she and the judge had words over Lizzie, and the missus left late last night. That road is mighty dark at night.”

Verna Lee acknowledged that it was. Still, something wasn't right. Lizzie was keeping something to herself, Bailey wasn't talking and the Wentworths had had a fight, serious enough for Amanda Wentworth to take off for Mississippi in the middle of the night.

Amanda Wentworth's funeral was a by-invitation-only event. Russ Hennessey was on the guest list for two reasons only: he was Tess's father and the interlocutory period for his divorce from Tracy Wentworth was still in progress. On paper he was legally married and therefore a member of the family, albeit an unwilling one. Already he regretted accepting the offer of the judge's spare room.

Sliding the knot of his tie into place, he stood in front of the mirror in the guest room dressed in a pale blue shirt and black socks.

Tracy opened the door without knocking and closed it behind her.

Russ raised one eyebrow. “Do you mind? I'm not dressed.”

She shrugged. “We're married. Surely you don't think I haven't seen this before?”

“We're soon to be
not
married and that isn't the point. I'd appreciate some respect for my privacy. What do you want?”

“I know you don't want to sit with the family, but I'm asking you to reconsider.”

“Not a chance. I'm here to watch my daughter so you can deal with your family. That's it.”

Tracy flushed. “It's my mother's funeral, for God's sake. Would it kill you to be a little bit flexible?”

Russ sighed. “Everyone knows we've split. There is absolutely no point in making it look as if we're one big happy family. You specifically asked that I come, although your reasoning baffles me. Your mother and I weren't close and, personally, I think she'd rest easier if she knew I'd stayed away.” He stepped into his pants and zipped them. “I'm sorry you lost your mother, Tracy, but Tess and I are sitting with my brother.”

Two pink spots stood out on Tracy's cheeks. “I don't think I can stay in this house without my mother.”