Shem Creek (26 page)

I tossed and turned in my bed thinking about a million things at once. Loretta could not have been such a terrible mother if she turned out a fine boy like Alex. But then, maybe Alex was just born good in the same way that Lindsey was and that Gracie had been born with a little devil in her. He was going to be a great man when he grew up—he already was. Poor kid! I was glad that he felt comfortable enough to unburden himself in front of me. I decided that he must have wanted me to know him and that pleased me to no end.

And wasn’t it interesting that Brad thought he would see me tomorrow. Well, he probably did forget I had taken the day off. Why did he have that funny look on his face when I went to shake his hand? Was I supposed to kiss his cheek? No way!

Was it because I had not asked him about his doctor’s appointment? Couldn’t be. But was a late-night visit the time to do that? Was it my business anyway? Didn’t we have enough going on as it was?

Maybe he thought I was interested in him, and I did care about him but the last thing I was going to do was screw the boss. That might be the trashiest thing a woman could do. What was the matter with me? Did I really think the widower of an Atlanta socialite would be interested in the likes of a gal like me?
Don’t flatter yourself, Linda.

IT must have been around eight in the morning when I heard a car door slam and bolted out of a sound sleep. I had been dreaming about a party and had no intention of leaving. Was that it? Yes, it was a party for me, for my birthday. It was not my birthday but I didn’t want to tell anyone because they had gone to so much trouble. Someone I knew was in the kitchen making hamburgers and hot dogs and handing them to everyone wrapped up in paper napkins. I thought they should have at least bought paper plates but I kept that opinion to myself. Suddenly the crowd thinned and there were only a few people left. I apologized for being late and then someone said to me that I
wasn’t
late. No one had shown up. I said, you mean you invited a bunch of people and they didn’t come? Someone said,
Yes, no one came to your party.
Then the old man with white hair showed up, the same one I had dreamed about before. He was wearing the exact same camel-colored cardigan and gray trousers. I said to him,
Well, you sure were right to be concerned about Gracie!
He seemed to still have great concern for her. His expression frightened me and I started running and ran the whole way to the causeway leading to Sullivan’s Island. I ran and ran until I heard a loud noise.

Now the trunk of a car slammed and I was wide awake, glad to get up, and not missing my dream. What had it meant? Was Gracie in trouble? That I had no life? That I was pathetic? I didn’t want to think about it.

I went out to the kitchen and looked down into the yard. Mimi was there in her gardening clothes, surrounded by flats of plants, ready to go to work. I opened the door and called down to her.

“What in the world are you doing at this hour of the morning?”

“Good morning, sunshine!”

Sunshine,
indeed.

“Hey yourself, sunshine! You want coffee?”

“Why not?”

Mimi smiled wide and once again I loved my sister like crazy. I had no idea why she had shown up like this but I knew her well enough to accept that whatever she had planned, it was for my own good. In the process, she would also make herself feel better. When Mimi decided to do something, you may as well just stand back and let her go to it.

While the coffeemaker dripped, I threw on a pair of khaki shorts, a knit shirt and sandals. The day was expected to be a scorcher. September was hotter than August but only the locals understood that. All the tourists would be leaving after the Labor Day weekend and hurricane season would begin. I could not have cared less about hurricanes. Maybe it was the salt in our genes. Besides, the really big storms hardly ever actually occurred with the same intensity as the geniuses on the weather channel would predict. They blew out to sea, they stalled off the coast and lost their strength, they took a turn and set a new course to ram Cape Hatteras or they simply never materialized. The majority of hurricanes were merely an inconvenience, except for the one sleeping in Gracie’s bed. That was the one I had to watch like a hawk. I peeked in her room. She was still sleeping and probably would be for hours.

I poured two cups from the pot before it finished its cycle and wiped up the drips with a million paper towels. Why was I so impatient? I couldn’t even wait for the coffeepot to finish brewing.

I went outside and brought Mimi’s to her.

“Here you go,” I said, handing her the mug. “So, what’s all this?”

“They had cabbage and kale plants on sale at the garden shop at Kmart, so I got you some too! I just thought we could cozy up your path, you know what I’m talking about? Make it
say
something.”

“Like what? Let’s eat?”

“Linda! Are you okay? Get up on the wrong side of the bed?”

“No, I just had all these screwed-up dreams and I was up late last night and I had a little drama with Gracie and oh, hell, I don’t know. . . .” I looked at the sky and could see dark clouds. Storms were building everywhere.

“Tell me your dream and I’ll tell you what it meant,” she said. “I got this book on dream interpretation and I’m pretty good at it.”

That was Mimi in a nutshell. She could read a book, hang a shingle on her door the next day and she actually would make a living from it.

I took a deep breath and told myself to be nice to my sister. After all, it didn’t pay to nitpick with the Rock of Gibraltar.

“It’s so Irish to tell your dreams,” I said and giggled. “Momma used to say that if you told your dreams before breakfast, they came true.”

“Momma was a superstitious Irish Catholic with a loose screw too!”

“Mimi! You’ve never said . . .”

“Ssh! Don’t say I said it or I’ll call you a liar! Now are you gonna tell me your dream or what?” She put her mug on the bottom step and began laying out the pots.

“Okay,” I said and repeated as much as I could remember.

After only a short pause she said, “Honey, that ain’t nothing but you thinking about your work. You’re surrounded by all these people and you don’t know them yet. And the party where nobody shows up? That’s just you trying to get a new life together. I mean, if you had a party now, who would you invite? You need to do something to make some friends.”

“Probably, but I have you and work and not much time left over. So what do you think about the old man? That’s not the first time I’ve dreamed about him.”

“Maybe he’s your daddy figure? I don’t know what to tell you about that one. What did you dream the last time?”

I told her the dream and the subsequent episode with Gracie of the night before and she got the shivers, which was particularly notable since the thermometer had already climbed to well over eighty-five degrees.

“What’s wrong?” I said.

“Girl! You might be getting a message from the Great Beyond!”

“Yeah, right! Now I’m the freaking Sylvia Browne of Mount Pleasant. Let me help you with this stuff.”

“You got a hose?”

“I wouldn’t even know! I’ll go look under the house.”

I had yet to roam around in the garage. I guess I felt like it wasn’t part of the living space and therefore it wasn’t part of what I had rented. But maybe it was. I would have to call Lowell and ask him. I pulled open one side of the double doors and squinted to see what was inside. It was filled with every kind of household debris you can imagine. Rusted bicycles, old lawnmowers, a mountain of paint cans, boxes of books, a high chair, an old roll-away bed with a mildewed mattress, and an endless stream of useless rakes, worn-out brooms and other gardening equipment. Everything
but
a boat. Some boathouse! And no hose.

I looked around and all I found that would help was an ancient galvanized tin watering can. It was covered in cobwebs, so I knocked them off with my sandal and looked inside for spiders. None found, I gingerly lifted it from its grave and went back outside to look for an outdoor spigot.

“Oooh! That garage is disgusting with a capital
D!
”

Mimi looked up and said, “I’ll bet it is! Is it yours too?”

“Jesus! We even think the same thoughts! I have to ask. But if it is, it could sure come in handy! When the Montclair house sells, I’ll have to find a place for all my stuff! God knows, it won’t fit upstairs.”

“Speaking of which, any nibbles?”

“Not yet, which reminds me to call my broker and see what’s going on. Anyway, I’m gonna find a spigot.”

“Yeah, there must be one since they used to store boats here.”

Sure enough, I found one but it didn’t work. It was probably turned off and if I could ever kick my way through the museum of decay in the garage, maybe I could locate the main valve and get it working again. The more I thought about the garage, the more I wanted it. I could use it for storage for sure. But I could also get new bicycles and some decent gardening equipment. I could pull my car inside so it wouldn’t get bombed with the calling cards of birds. My old Chevy Blazer was ugly enough as it was.

Walking back to Mimi, I could see a storm coming. It was going to rain and soon.

“I don’t think we have to worry about watering those babies today,” I said, calling out. I pointed up to the darkening sky and she looked up, shaking her head.

“It was so beautiful when I got up! I’m telling you, all you have to do is wait five minutes and the weather changes. Let’s go make some eggs,” she said, “I’m finished anyway.”

I was embarrassed because Mimi had done all the work herself.

“Talk about perfect timing,” I said, “I’m sorry . . .”

“What? Honey, I came early to do this and surprise you!” She threw her arm around my shoulder and we went up the steps together. “Come on, I’m starving!”

Within minutes, I had bacon sizzling in the pan and four eggs cracked into a bowl.

“Gracie still sleeping?”

“Are you kidding? Still unconscious is more like it.”

“Hmm,” she said and poured herself another cup of coffee. “Guess what? I went out with Jack Taylor again. Last night!”

“And . . . ?”

“And, we had a very nice dinner and a very nice bottle of wine and a very long kiss at my front door!”

“Ahhhh! You kissed a man! How was it?”

“You know what? It’s been so long since I laid my lips on a man, I couldn’t tell you if it was good or not!”

She burst into a fit of giggles and I, the sophisticated city slicker, spit my coffee through my nose, laughing and coughing at the same time.

“Stop! Augh!” I said. “Oh, my God! How ridiculous are we?”

“Very! So, tell your Mimi! When’s the last time you laid those collagen lips on a stud muffin?”

“Collagen? Sister? If I could afford collagen, don’t you think I’d have a better wardrobe?” I blew my nose and sighed deeply, thinking about all the married rats I had dated one time and never again. “God, wait! When was the last time I kissed somebody? And, how are we qualifying the kiss? Does that have to be a romantic kiss or can it just be a kiss to get on with business or what?”

“Ahem! Just what is a
get on with business
kiss? Is this something they do up north?”

I turned the bacon onto the three folded paper towels next to the frying pan and thought for a moment before answering. Was I going to horrify my sister with the truth or sugarcoat the facts of life to keep her estrogen levels in check? Aw, what the hell, I thought as I stirred the eggs around.

“Up north? Don’t they screw just for the fun of it in the south?”

“Yeah, but they usually get twenty dollars for it! What are you telling me? All y’all Yankee girls go hooking for fun?”

“Yeah, right. Come on! Haven’t you ever been out with some guy and just gone to bed with him because it had been a zillion years since you’d been to bed with someone?”

“Nevah! Nevah! Nevah!” Mimi said and clutched her bosom for effect. “Okay. Maybe one time, but it was a long time ago and I was drunk, so it didn’t count, I think, I mean, it was Captain Somebody Rum! Yes! I remember now! I never drank rum again! But do that on a regular basis? Nevah!”

“Right, sure, whatever. Throw some white bread in the toaster and I’ll get these eggs.”

“Okay.” She unwound the twist tie on the bread and placed two slices in my toaster oven. I could tell from the curl of her lips that there was something brewing in her frosted blonde head. “Don’t you know that when a southern woman has unintentional sex, it doesn’t count?”

“Really? And for men?”

“It probably doesn’t count for them either—at least it shouldn’t! After all, it’s the twenty-first century! You have to let go of that old double standard thing, Linda!”

“That is the most stupid thing you have ever said. But! I like it. And, I may adopt the philosophy.”