On Folly Beach (26 page)

Before Emmy could respond, Abigail said, “You know, Lizzie, only the Mt. Pleasant people eat at Taco Boy. Why don’t we go to Snapper Jacks instead?”

Lizzie frowned. “Mama, I’ve lived in Mt. Pleasant for four years, so it’s time to get used to the fact that your own daughter is now a ‘Mt. Pleasant person.’ Besides, it’s my party, and I can have it where I want. And Taco Boy has the best guacamole anywhere, and I know I won’t be able to eat that for a long, long time.”

Emmy frowned to hide her relief that she couldn’t go. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, but crowds always made her nervous, and meeting new people always meant questions that she dreaded answering. “Thanks, but I’m scheduled to close tonight, so I don’t think I can make it.”

Lizzie waved her hand dismissively. “So close early—this is Folly Beach. People will understand.”

As much as Emmy wanted to protest, she knew that Lizzie was right. Even though she’d only been on Folly for little over a month, it had become clear to her that Folly Beach time was fluid and flexible and on nobody’s schedule. Assuming people had schedules here. And she hadn’t quite decided if that was something to love or hate about her new home. Knowing Lizzie wouldn’t accept no for an answer, she nodded. “Sure. I can be there. What time?”

“Five o’clock. My parents like to eat early like the other seniors.” She rolled her eyes as her mother elbowed her gently in the arm. “Afterward, I thought we could go over to the pier. They’re having one of the last Moonlight Mixers tonight, and I’d hate to miss it. Who knows when I’ll get a chance to dance again?”

Emmy had no desire to dance in public but figured she could leave right after dinner without anybody noticing. They all glanced over at Lulu, and Emmy expected the older woman to decline because she couldn’t picture Lulu in a social setting in which she’d be expected to be nice to people.

“I’ve got to finish up a custom order, but I guess I can be there.”

Lizzie clapped her hands together and smiled as if Lulu’s acceptance had been an enthusiastic one. “Great. Joe and I will see everybody then. Nice to meet you, Emmy. I’ll look forward to getting to know you better over margaritas.” She frowned, patting her swollen belly. “Well, one margarita and one glass of ice water.”

Lulu allowed Lizzie to hug and kiss her good-bye, and then they all watched her leave. Abigail shook her head and smiled. “Having twins will serve her right. She and Heath just about killed me when they were younger.” Her face softened slightly. “She and Joe didn’t plan to have kids, but then Heath got sick, and it made Lizzie sort of reevaluate her life. And I sure am glad she did. I’m going to be a grandma! Still hard to wrap my mind around it, but there you have it.”

Emmy forced a smile, and tried not to think about the plans she and Ben had made—the plans she’d shelved like a tissue-covered treasure while she’d waited for him to return. It was the thoughts of their own home and babies that had been her bedtime companion on the lonely nights without him—dreams that became for her living, breathing things. It made her grief harder now. Waiting to start a family had been her idea, and burying Ben had meant burying his unborn children alongside him. She wondered, sometimes, if that was why she still felt Ben around her, a restless spirit searching for what might have been.

Abigail touched her arm, and Emmy realized she’d asked a question while Emmy’s mind had been gathering wool. “I’m sorry—what did you say?”

“I said that I still have some of Maggie’s old photos. She wrote names on the backs of most of them, so maybe we’ll find a picture of that Peter fellow. If he was a friend to Maggie and Lulu, we might have to stick him in a frame. I took the pictures out of the albums because the old albums they were put in weren’t archival quality, and I didn’t want the photos to disintegrate. I have them loose in a box now, waiting to be put in a new album or framed—I haven’t decided yet. One of those things I thought I’d do once I retired.”

Their eyes met at the forbidden word, and they both looked away at the same time.

Lulu still clutched Maggie’s book, her fingers white at the tips. “I’ve got to get back to work. Just got a delivery of my tree limbs, and I’ve got to sort them.” She stopped when she reached the back door. Without turning around, she said, “Thank you for Maggie’s book. It was her favorite.”

The door rang as a woman with a young child entered the shop, and Emmy turned to greet them. By the time she’d turned back, Lulu was gone.

LULU STOOD IN FRONT OF the vacant lot where the old house had once been, and where the encroaching blackberry vines and the weathered white cross near the back fence were the only reminders that lives had been lived and lost here.

In the beginning, right after the storm and during the search for Maggie, Lulu had placed a bottle tree here in the hope that she’d find a message from Maggie in one of the bottles, or at least turn away the evil spirits that had managed to come into their lives. But the bottles kept getting stolen, so Lulu took down the tree, deciding that it was too late to ward away the bad spirits; they’d taken root here long before Hugo blew in on 135-mile-per-hour winds.

Lulu’s fist hurt from clenching it so tightly around her handful of sand, but she’d been doing this ritual for twenty years and wasn’t going to allow a little bit of arthritis stop her now. She moved slowly toward the cross and carefully got down on her knees in front of it, another painful and laborious process that she refused to concede to. Opening her hand one finger at a time, she allowed half of the sand to fall at the base of the cross. Maggie had loved the beach and the ocean, and even though they’d never found her body, it gave Lulu some consolation to know that she was buried under the blanket of her beloved Atlantic. And every once in a while, she wondered if Maggie’s spirit knew that the waiting was finally over.

Using her other hand to help her stand, she began to pace twenty steps to the right before stopping and going through the process of kneeling again. Opening up her fist, she allowed the remaining sand to drift down to the ground. This memorial was for Jim, whose bottle tree had once stood on the spot. It was sacred to Lulu, for many reasons—reasons Lulu expected to take with her to her grave.

“Aunt Lulu, it’s too hot for you to be out here without your hat.”

She recognized Heath’s voice before twisting around to see him standing there like a bronzed god, his hair now blessedly long after having it shaved off. She hadn’t expected him to survive, had even seen his sickness as just punishment, and now to see him so fit and happy, it made her think that maybe she’d already atoned for her sins.

He took hold of her elbow and helped her stand. “I’m fine, just fine. Don’t need you to be adding me to your worries.”

He smiled his wonderful smile that so reminded her of Maggie, of her gentleness and resilience. “I don’t have any worries, remember? I’ve finally taken Grandma Maggie’s words to heart: live for the day in the best way possible, and everything else will work itself out. Seems to be working for me so far.”

She frowned. “Yeah, except for the cancer.”

“Now, now, Aunt Lulu, that’s only because I hadn’t embraced her philosophy yet. But while I was going through the radiation, that’s what got me through. It changed my life—in a good way.”

She looked up at him, thinking again of Maggie and if she’d died still believing in her own words of wisdom. “What are you doing here?”

Heath squinted into the sun, surveying the lot. “Just seeing if today is the day this place speaks to me and tells me what to do with it.” He looked back at her. “You know, the land is much more valuable today than when you deeded it to me. I feel as if you’ve been taken advantage of.”

Lulu shook her head. “It’s yours, fair and square. Maggie would have wanted this to be yours, to do with it whatever you think is right. I don’t have any use for it.”

Heath moved away from her, taking in the riotous vines and scrubby grass, picking up a beer bottle somebody had thrown. “I don’t know. I can’t seem to get a clear picture here. It’s like the whole place is restless and can’t settle down.” He sent a smile to Lulu. “And if you repeat any of this to anyone, I’ll cement you in the foundation.”

She snorted. “You and what army? I think I still outweigh you by fifty pounds. You got some catching up to do.”

“I’m working at it.” He kicked at the ground with the toe of his sneaker. “If I ignore my conscience, I could build a really huge house with lots of bedrooms and bathrooms and use it as a rental property.” He glanced across the street at the modest bungalow that had been there since the twenties. “Of course, the neighbors would hate me and talk about me and complain to my mother, and I don’t think I could stand that.”

“Still a mama’s boy after all these years.” She gave him a half grin.

“Oh, and, Heath? Don’t put any more notes in the bottle tree. That girl who’s staying over at your house is too nosy.”

He almost grinned. “It was a stupid thing to do, anyway. I don’t know why I let you talk me into doing that. But don’t worry. I got rid of it.”

“It worked, though, didn’t it?”

“Well, that would depend. Jolene came back, but now I almost wish that she hadn’t.”

Lulu turned her head, imagining she heard the sound of the wind in a bottle. “But maybe you needed her to come back, even if it wasn’t for the reason you thought.”

His brows formed a questioning “v.” “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. My bottle trees are a lot more powerful than even I ever imagined. Maggie might have had her strong beliefs, but I’ve always just relied on my trees. They’ve never let me down.”

Heath watched her for a long time, mulling over her words much as he’d done with the baby cereals she’d fed him as a child. “So what are you doing here?”

Lulu craned her neck back to look up at the wide blue sky, smelling salty air. “Greeting old ghosts, I suppose.”

He looked at her oddly. “Emmy and I were just talking about ghosts, too. I told her I didn’t believe in them.”

Wiping her sandy hands off on her pants, she began walking toward the street. “It’s easy to not believe in something you can’t see, I guess.” Stopping, she put her hands on her hips and faced him. “I think ghosts will show when they’re ready to be seen. Or when they think you’re ready to see them. Sort of like this lot. You’ll know when it’s ready to tell you.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his face expressionless. “I think you need to get out of the sun, Aunt Lulu.” He winked at her. “I’ll save you a seat next to me at dinner, all right?”

She waved a hand at him dismissively. “Sure. See you tonight.” Turning her head, she chewed on her lower lip. Lulu believed with her whole heart what she’d told Heath about ghosts; knew the truth of it in the same way she knew when a hurricane hovered on the horizon. And that was what scared her. She headed down the street without glancing back, hearing again the sound of the wind crying into the necks of open bottles, afraid of what she might see if she did.

CHAPTER 14

FOLLY BEACH, SOUTH CAROLINA

August 2009

Summer weekenders had descended on the island with a vengeance, leaving no open parking spots along Center Street or the nearest surrounding blocks. Cranking up the air-conditioning, Emmy pointed the vents toward her face as she searched, realizing she’d have been better off leaving her car at the store instead of going home first to change.

The yellow sundress fit her perfectly, although she felt self-conscious exposing so much of her shoulders and back. She’d decided to complete the outfit with a pair of flip-flops she’d purchased from one of the tourist shops near the Holiday Inn. She’d left the hat behind, thinking she wouldn’t be needing it for sun protection at five o’clock in the evening. Looking up through the windshield at the still-burning sun, she began to doubt her decision.

She finally found a spot in front of what she could only describe as a cement box on stilts, possibly a remnant of Folly’s past when it was known as the poor man’s beach. Most of the older structures had been removed by Hugo, but perhaps this owner had a strong nostalgia for the way things used to be.