The Girls of August (15 page)

“Yeah,” Rachel said, shooting her a long, don’t-tread-on-me look. “You’d think that
would do it, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s just common sense.” Baby leaned against the counter and began to eat.

Rachel’s dark eyes flashed. Something, I knew, was about to break, and my days of
running interference were over.

“You know what common sense is, Baby?”

“Of course I do.”

“Really? And we’re supposed to accept—as if we’re a bunch of stooges—that a bee
finds its way into Madison’s shoe all by itself? And somehow a bed leg is so loose
that it tumbles over? And in the middle of the night, Barbara’s screen falls out
of its own volition? Really?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Baby set her bowl on the counter and started
to walk out. Rachel stood, blocking her path.

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about!”

Barbara and I exchanged glances. I couldn’t believe that Rachel was actually accusing
Baby of these various mishaps. “Now, Rachel, you can’t possibly believe that Baby
put a bee in my shoe.”

“The hell I can’t!”

Baby crossed her arms. She lifted her face and tried to look Rachel in the eye, but
she was no match.

“What do you want, Rachel?”

“I want the truth.”

Baby stamped her foot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Leave me alone!”

“Tell us the truth, Baby, or I’m going to tell Teddy about your fling with that handsome
Gullah man.”

Baby sneered. “My affair! Go ahead. He won’t believe you because there
is
no
affair
.”

“When I get done, little girl, I’ll have him convinced you’re fucking everything
on this island. And you know I can do it. You may be his latest piece of tail, but
I’ve known that man for over twenty years. Don’t even tempt me.”

Barbara pushed her chair back and said in her cool schoolteacher’s voice, “Baby,
we don’t care what you did. That’s over. Except we could have been hurt really badly.”

I shot Barbara a horrified glare. “Oh come on,” I said, but she ignored me.

“I mean, look at me, Baby. I look like I have smallpox. Plus, that damned bobcat
could have jumped through the window and mauled us all. Where on earth did you get
him?”

“Ladies,” I said, “this is nuts.”

“Bobcat?” Baby looked truly confused.

“Yes, Baby, bobcat,” Rachel said. “How did you manage to stage that?”

Baby grabbed her hair, the way a child does before a full-throttle tantrum. “I don’t
know about any stupid bobcat!”

“But you do know about the bee and the bed and the bugs. Don’t you, Baby?” Barbara’s
voice was a perfect mix of kindness and admonition. “You need to tell us so that
we can get past this and move on.”

Barbara was really good. Rachel was an attack dog, but Barbara was the soft feather
with a poison-tipped quill.

“Baby?” Barbara said, all soft and motherly. I couldn’t look at her because her
voice was soothing but her face was a calamine- and bite-pocked mess.

“What, what, what?” Baby yelled, and then she burst into tears.

Barbara stood, reached out, and hugged her.

“Now, now,” she crooned.

Baby pulled away.

“I didn’t do anything wrong! Have I been really hurt and pissed after you two ganged
up on me? Yes! But I would never hurt anybody! For your information, I’m a pacifist.
That’s why I learned Arabic!” She was hiccupping through her tears.

“What does speaking Arabic have to do with being a pacifist?” I asked. Now I was the
one who was profoundly confused.

“Because,” Baby said as if speaking to a moron, “if someone has declared a holy
war on you, perhaps the best thing to do is learn their language so you can talk
to them! You think I’m stupid but I’m not,” she screamed. “And Teddy loves me for
my brains. Not for my money. He’s got his own money. I will never be Melinda Patterson,
God rest her soul. I’m just me, Baby, and I love Teddy with all my heart.”

Rachel scrubbed her face with her palms and said, “OK. So you didn’t do any of these
shenanigans?”

“No!”

“The wind was blowing hard last night. It just blew the screen out, caught it like
a sail,” I said.

“That bed leg has been loose for a while. I told Teddy to fix it, but I guess he
forgot. I’m sorry, Maddy. That must have been quite a fright.”

“And the bee was just wrong place, wrong time,” Barbara murmured.

“Shit,” Rachel said, recognizing defeat.

“OK, Baby,” Barbara said. “We all could have handled things differently. And we’re
all going to say we’re sorry. I’ll start. I’m sorry. Rachel?”

Rachel glared at Barbara. Clearly Rachel thought Barbara had lost her mind, even
though it was clear that Baby had not been the culprit, that indeed there had been
no culprit. Barbara mouthed, “Do it!”

She looked away and shook her head.

“We all make mistakes,” I said, “and it looks like this one was a doozy. I’m sorry,
Baby.”

“Yeah,” Rachel said, putting one arm behind her back and crossing her index and bird
fingers, “me too.”

Barbara shot her a brief smile and nodded her thanks. “Do you forgive us? Can we just
move on?”

Baby sniffled. “Yeah. Of course.”

“Here,” Barbara said, handing Baby a napkin. “Now wipe your nose and go get dressed.
We’re going to do something with our day.”

Blowing her nose and still sniveling, Baby obliged.

Until we heard the bathroom water run, the three of us remained silent, cautious.
But as soon as we heard the creak and whoosh of old pipes and the burping of the
rusty water, we let loose.

“Damn it,” Rachel said. “I feel like a shit heel. How did you do that, Barbara? Make
it all right after we just about accused her of attempted murder?”

“That,” I said, nodding at Barbara, “is twenty years of dealing with seventh-graders.”
I looked at her and beamed. “Good job!”

“Yeah, but in this case, we’re the seventh-graders and she’s the adult,” Rachel
said. “Since I was the one spearheading the accusers, I’ll go clean up Barbara’s
room.”

“You will do absolutely no such thing,” I said.

“Absolutely not. I will clean up my own room myself.”

Rachel’s eyes settled on me and I read them right: Everything in her dwindling days
mattered. I relented. “All right.”

So we waited. Barbara poured herself a glass of wine. Rachel reached for the broom
and dustpan that were tilted into the space between the fridge and counter and went
upstairs. I popped open a bottle of fizzy water. It felt cool and soothing going
down. Only a handful of minutes passed before we heard Baby’s footsteps on the stairs.
We stayed silent. She walked into the kitchen, her face freshly washed but still
blotchy from the tears.

“Where’s Rachel?” she asked.

“You just missed her.”

“She’s in my room, cleaning up the bug carnage.”

“Oh,” Baby said. “Well, I need to go help.”

“Not sure that’s a good idea,” Barbara said, pressing the cool wineglass against her
swollen face.

Baby turned on her heel and marched out of the kitchen, saying, “Nope. If I’d put
that screen in right in the first place, it would have never blown out.”

Barbara dropped her head into her hands. “Oh, God.”

“What’s wrong, Babs?”

“She just keeps proving us wrong. I wish we’d been right. It would feel so much better
than the guilt.”

I started laughing. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll do something that outrages us. Probably
before nightfall. And then the universe will be back in balance.”

Barbara smiled and reached for my hand. “
Merci beaucoup, cher ami
. I’d kiss you except I’m hideous.” She smoothed back her hair. “I’m going to take
a shower, get this junk off my face, and wash my hair. And then, Madison McCauley”—she
looked determined, set jaw and all—“we’re rebooting this vacation.”

While Baby and Rachel were busy setting Barbara’s room in order, including by changing
the Raid-soaked sheets, Barbara and I sat on the front porch, mulling over our options
for the day, which were admittedly limited. The idea of exploring the other side
of the island and introducing ourselves to Earl’s family had caught our imaginations,
but there was a bobcat on the loose.

“With our track record, he’d probably eat every single one of us,” I said.

“Except for Baby,” Barbara said. “He’d probably curl up in her lap.”

“We’ve got her spic-’n’-span clean, y’all. Not a bug in sight!” Baby trilled, bounding
onto the porch, Coca-Cola in hand.

She flopped into a rocking chair and said, “Ahhhh.”

“Hallelujah!” Barbara said.

“Amen,” Rachel said, letting the screen door bang behind her.

“Now, listen,” Baby said, wiping sweat off the can, “I want to take y’all to where
I go. My pretty spot in the woods.”

“Bobcat,” Rachel said.

“Was it really a bobcat?” Baby asked.

“Its eyes glowed in the moonlight and the fucker growled.” Rachel swirled her iced
coffee.

“Well.” Baby smacked her lips. “Whatever it was, it won’t be out in the middle of
the day.”

“Are you sure?” Barbara asked.

“Absolutely.”

Then, as if bobcats were no big deal and Baby were trustworthy, Barbara said, “Y’all,
let’s do it! I mean, why the hell not?”

Rachel and I exchanged glances and then looked at Barbara and Baby, who appeared
completely at ease with the idea. I threw up my hands. “All right. But if I get mauled,
my remains will never forgive you.”

We walked in a ragged line until we reached the thick hammock and were forced to go
single file with Baby in the lead.

“Are you sure we’re not going to get snakebit, Baby?” I asked.

“Just follow the path.”

“What path?” Rachel asked.

“The one we’re on.”

We’d trudged through the jungle no longer than fifteen or twenty minutes before
it opened into a vast sea of pluff mud. A stickier, smellier, more unpleasant substance
would be hard to find on this earth, but marsh grass, crabs, and oysters love the
stuff. You have to be careful walking in it, though, because you could get sucked
down, just as if you were in a bed of wet concrete. A ribbon of sand and grass bisected
the pluff mud, and on the other side a lovely glade opened, gleaming like an emerald.

“Wow! You’re right, Baby. A pretty spot for sure!” I said.

The glade, complete with wildflowers and butterflies, was ringed with palmettos
and old, moss-draped, stately oaks. The morning sun shone through the mottled clouds,
sending down shafts of what looked like pure gold.

“We used to call those holy miracle rays,” Rachel said, surveying the sky, the jungle
canopy, the glade.

“Yep. Just like those Jesus pictures in Sunday school,” Barbara said, her eyes following
the slant of sunbeams.

Baby ran ahead of us and we followed, crossing the grass-and-sand bridge to the
other side. Once in the glade, Baby said, “See why I love it! See how sweet it is?
Sometimes I just need a break from the ocean.”

“It really is gorgeous,” Rachel said, “and quiet.”

“So you sleep out here?” I asked.

“No, no, not really.” And then she did a cartwheel, which was, I realized, not so
much a bid for attention as an evasive move.

“We should have a picnic here,” Barbara said, studying a blooming cloud bank in the
distance.

“Yes!” Baby said, and before the
s
was dry on her tongue, we heard a violent rustling in the undergrowth, and Barbara
screamed, “Bobcat!”

We shrieked and ran into each other as we tried to flee, and a herd of squealing,
snorting feral hogs burst out of the jungle and charged us. I moved left when I should
have moved right. One fleeing hog’s tusk got me along my shin. The pain was immediate.
I looked down and saw a long, shallow, bleeding gash. For some reason, perhaps it
was my subconscious’s way to ignore the pain, I thought only,
Damn it—that’s going to scar.

“Son of a bitch!” Rachel yelled, spinning around to Baby.

“Oh, Maddy, I didn’t know! Really, I didn’t!” Baby pleaded. “I mean, I knew the
Gullahs kept pigs, but they were fenced in. They’ve always been fenced in. I’ve never
seen these wild ones. Never ever!”

“Kinda hard to miss them,” Rachel said, giving Baby another of her long, heavy-lidded
stares.

“Oh goodness!” Barbara said, and I threw up. Again. And my knees wobbled as if Jell-O
had replaced bone. I would have fallen if Rachel hadn’t caught me and lowered me
to the grass.

“I think you need a doctor for that,” she said, whipping her turquoise kerchief from
around her neck and stanching the bleeding. “Damn, I wish I could get hold of Hugh,
or somebody who knows something about pigs…”

“I didn’t know Hugh knew anything about pigs,” Baby said in all seriousness.

Despite my pain and gut hurt and bleeding, I found Baby’s statement hilarious. Through
laughter and dry heaves, I sputtered, “God, no, I don’t need Hugh! It was just a
damned pig. Not even a feral one, either, if they belong to the Gullahs. There must
be a fence…”

“Hmmm, you’d think so,” Barbara said, and then she went over to where the pigs had
burst out, to the high grass that bordered the underbrush. She knelt and examined
a torn-up plot of earth. “Well, there was a fence, but it’s broken down. See?” She
retrieved an old, rotted fence stake. “The pieces of it are all over the place.”
She tossed it on the ground and walked back over to us. “You know, Maddy, I agree
with Rachel. All this dizziness and throwing up…something isn’t right.”

“I swear I didn’t sic the pigs on her,” Baby said, reaching out for Barbara, her
protector. “I had no idea there were crazed pigs running around out here.”

“I know what’s not right,” Rachel said, smiling. “It ain’t pigs and it ain’t the stomach
flu and it ain’t you, Baby.”

“Then what is it?” Baby’s eyes were huge, as if she feared the answer.