Lily of the Springs (39 page)

He shook his head and began to unbutton his shirt. “She wasn’t born and raised here. She’s not a hillbilly like you. Face it, Lily Rae. You’re not
ever
gonna be nothing more than what you are right now. A mother and a housewife. So you might as well get used to it.” He turned to the door, muttering, “That damn Betty Kelly…putting foolish notions in your head.”

Over in the corner of the bedroom, Kathy Kay began to fuss in her bassinet. It was time for her three o’clock feeding. Jake grinned. “And there’s your wake-up call, Mama.”

My tears had dried by the time Jake left for work a few hours later. When I staggered into the kitchen to warm up a bottle for Kathy Kay’s morning feeding, I saw the dirty dishes on the counter, and the remnants of last night’s meal still on the table.

I stood staring at the mess for a long moment, wanting to do nothing more than sink to the floor and bawl my eyes out. Instead, I turned and plodded back to the bedroom, pulling open my lingerie drawer. Digging beneath the bras and panties, I pulled out the rumpled pile of notebook paper I’d retrieved from the bed a few hours before. Taking them back into the living room, I carefully opened the door of the black pot-bellied stove with its briskly burning fire, and threw the pile of papers inside. I closed the door, and stood there a moment, listening to the sizzle of the flames, feeling a curious detachment. Not at all like I thought I should feel at the death of my dream.

I peeked in on Kathy Kay and saw she’d gone back to sleep. Then I turned and went into the kitchen to do the dishes.

August 1960

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

L
ooking up from my book, I lifted my sunglasses to check on Debby Ann and Kathy Kay, making sure they hadn’t broken my rule and wandered out past ankle-deep surf. Those two little dickens were braver than smart in the water, and oh, they
did
love the ocean.
Had
, since they’d caught their first sight of it four days ago.

Much to my relief, neither child was in the water right now. Debby Ann was on her knees in an eddying pool of seawater, building another sandcastle, and Kathy Kay, who’d turned three in January, sat at the edge of the surf, her tanned little legs stretched out seaward, a look of intense concentration on her fine-boned face as she sifted through the wet sand.

I smiled and returned to
To Kill a Mockingbird,
one of the best books I’d ever read in my life. On the blanket next to me, a transistor radio played The Everly Brother’s “Cathy’s Clown.” I thought about calling to Kathy Kay that her favorite song was on, but decided against it. It would just make Debby Ann mad, and she’d start in about how come the radio didn’t play any songs about
her
. Besides, the heat of the afternoon sun had made me feel so lazy, I wasn’t sure I could summon up the energy to use my voice.

Instead, I reached for my can of Coke and took a sip, grimacing at how warm it had become. I thought about sending Debby Ann back to the cottage to get me a cold one, but decided against that, too. It was after four, and we’d soon have to go in anyway, and get showered and try to decide what to do about supper. Maybe Jake would take us out to eat. We’d been barbecuing every evening except the night we arrived, and I was getting sick and tired of undercooked hamburgers and charred hotdogs.

I still couldn’t believe I’d actually talked him into coming here to Myrtle Beach for vacation this year. It was the first real vacation we’d ever had, if you didn’t count those two days we’d spent in the Smoky Mountains a few years back, and that one overnight trip to Nashville to see the Grand Old Opry. Of course, I hadn’t dared mention to Jake that Chad and Pat-Peaches lived here.

The radio began to play Chubby Checker’s “The Twist” for probably the hundredth time since I’d parked myself on my beach towel, and I put down my book and sang along, resisting the urge to stand up and do the new dance that
American Bandstand
had made famous. That would be cute, wouldn’t it? I’d be a spectacle for everybody on the crowded beach. Oh, wouldn’t Jake just
die
if I did? But he was back at the cottage, probably either taking a nap or drinking a beer in the little yard that faced the beach.

Wonder what Chad is doing right now
?

On the late afternoon we’d arrived, I’d looked intently at each golf course as we drove down Rt. 17 on the way to our rental cottage, wondering which one Chad owned. Of course, Jake didn’t play golf, so I’d never know…never have a reason to stop by one and ask if they knew Chad.

The Chubby Checker song ended, and Dante & the Evergreens’ “Alley-Oop” began to play. I glanced over at Kathy Kay, my brow furrowing. What on earth was so fascinating about the sand she was sifting through? It looked like she was searching for something.

Poor little thing. She’d cried her eyes out on the day we’d left home for vacation because she hadn’t wanted to leave her best friend, Paul John, Jinx’s youngest boy. It was funny, the way those two had bonded from the time they were babies. Kathy Kay was only six months older, and since they were able to sit up and take notice of each other, they’d been like two peas in a pod. I marveled at how adorable they were together, both of them looking like little cherubs with their blond curls and guileless blue eyes.

But I hadn’t been prepared for Kathy Kay’s sobs as we’d driven away that morning. If they were so inseparable now, what would it be like in ten years when the two of them would be hovering on the threshold of adolescence? Trouble, I suspected, with all those teenage hormones raging. It didn’t bear thinking about.

I got to my feet, brushed the sand off the seat of my black strapless swimsuit and ambled toward the shore. As I approached Debby Ann, she looked up and grinned, revealing a gap where her right eye-tooth used to be. Her new permanent tooth was just visible. She looked adorable.

“Like my sandcastle, Mommy?”

“It’s beautiful, honey.” I placed a hand on top of her sun-warmed head. At seven years old, Debby had lost all her baby fat, and was pretty much all gangly arms and legs with a pixie face and big brown eyes. Her blond hair had darkened to a rich, golden-brown, and in the summer, was streaked with blond from the sun—just like Jake’s.

I stroked her tanned shoulder. “You need to put some more Coppertone on, girl. Go on, now. It’s in my bag on the blanket. I’ll get your back in a minute, okay?”

Debby Ann’s bottom lip poofed out. “But Mommy! I
need
to get a suntan!”

“But you don’t
need
to get burned. Now do what I say!”

With an exaggerated roll of the eyes, Debby got to her feet and plodded toward the beach blanket, kicking sand and muttering about how nobody—meaning Mommy--would let her get a decent tan.

Cantankerous little squirt
, I thought.
It could be raining cats and dogs with thunder crashing and lightning flashing and the girl would look you in the eye and insist that the sun was shining.
That was Debby Ann.

I walked on toward Kathy Kay, the complete opposite of her older sister. There wasn’t a child on the face of the earth with a sweeter disposition than this one. And I swear, with her big blue eyes and blonde curls, she was the spitting image of my long dead little brother, Charles Alton. I sat down on the wet sand next to her, bracing as a wave washed around us. “Hey, Sweetie. What ya doing?”

She looked up and smiled, her golden ringlets gleaming in the sun. “Lookin’ for a starfish.”

“But honey, you’ve been sitting in that same spot all morning. Don’t you want to come help Debby Ann build a sandcastle?”

Kathy shook her head emphatically. “No, Mommy. I told you…I
got
to find a starfish.”

I ran a hand down the silk of her damp hair. “Sweetie, I don’t think starfish wash up on the beach. You probably have to go out into the deep water and dive down to find one.”

Kathy glanced out at the waves, the expectant look on her face unchanged. “They do
too
wash up on the beach, Mommy,” she said. “Remember the story book you read us? The Bobbsey Twins? They found a starfish on the beach. So…I’m going to wait right here until the sea brings
me
a starfish. And when I find one, I’m going to give it to Paul John.”

I sighed. “Well, honey, that’s very sweet of you, but you can’t wait here forever. We have to go in pretty soon, get washed up and changed. Maybe Daddy will take us out to supper tonight. You want to go to that restaurant with the doors that look like you’re walking into a big old shark’s mouth?”

Kathy Kay shook her head solemnly. “No, I don’t want to go into a shark’s mouth.” She turned and fixed serious blue eyes on me. “And I
can’t
leave until I find my starfish. I promised Paul John I’d bring him one!”

I thought for a moment. Kathy Kay had never thrown a fit in her life, but there was always a first time for everything.

“You know, honey, the ocean tides work on a schedule. There’s low tide and high tide, and they both happen a few times a day. This here, I reckon, is high tide. And I’m pretty sure it’s
low
tide that you can find the treasures from the sea…things like sand dollars and big seashells…
and
starfishes.” I hoped to God I had it right, and it wasn’t the other way around. Not that it really mattered. Kathy Kay could look her little heart out and never find a starfish. “I think maybe if we come down here at low tide, you’ll have a better chance of finding one.”

“When will that be?”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure, but maybe later tonight. After we get back from supper.”

Kathy Kay nodded as if that made perfect sense. She got to her feet and brushed the sand from her cute little polka-dotted bottom. “Okay, Mommy. Let’s come down here at low tide.” Her hand curled around mine.

Debby Ann had just settled back into the pool of water in front of her sandcastle when we approached. “I don’t need no more suntan lotion on my back,” she said defiantly, removing her sand pail from a cone of wet sand to form a new wing to her castle.

“Just as well,” I said, mentally preparing myself for World War III. “Because it’s time to go in.”

Debby Ann’s brows lowered like the onset of a particularly violent thunderstorm. “But
Mommmmmmeeeee
!”

“Don’t start, Debby Ann,” I warned.

“Come on, Debby Ann.” Kathy Kay calmly gazed down at her big sister, for all the world like
she
was the big sister, not Debby. “Mommy says we can go to that big shark’s mouth for supper.”

Debby Ann stared at Kathy, her mouth open in what I figured had been—or was going to be--a protest. It clamped shut as her gaze darted to her me. “Really, Mommy? We’re going to the big shark for supper?”

I grinned. “I’m sure you can talk your daddy into it. But it has to come from you two, not me.”

“Okay!” She began to gather up her sand toys, and Kathy Kay bent down to help.

The girls raced in front of me toward our rental cottage. By the time I reached the door, my arms full with the beach bag, wet towels and blanket, they were already inside, begging their father to take them to the restaurant with the big shark’s mouth.

“We’ll see,” he said, looking up at me as I came through the door. “Ya’all go wash up now. I’ve got to talk to your mommy.”

“What’s going on?” I asked as the girls ran off to the bathroom, Debby Ann shouting that she had first dibs on the shower.

“I just got off the telephone with Jinx,” he said, his expression unreadable.

“Nothing’s wrong with Debby Ann Kitty, I hope.”

Jinx had offered to come over to the house to feed the cat and clean out the litter box while we were gone. Even though Debby Ann Kitty was an outside cat, I’d thought it best to keep her in the house while we were gone for the week. She might not like it, but at least she’d be safe.

“No, it’s not the cat,” Jake said. “It’s Paul John. He’s in the hospital.”

I drew in a sharp breath. “Oh, no! What happened?”

Jake shook his head. “They don’t know what’s wrong with him. He’s running a high fever, and they’re doing all kinds of tests.”

“Oh, poor Jinx. She must be beside herself.” I placed the beach bag on the floor and stepped back outside to drape the wet beach towels on the squat stone barrier separating our cottage from the one next door.

Paul John had been born just six months after Kathy Kay, the last legacy of poor old Lonnie. It was just Jinx and her “men” now—the twins, David Lee and Douglas Dean, and little Paul John. Since Lonnie died, they were pretty much all Jinx lived for. And now, to have her youngest in the hospital, not knowing what was wrong with him, must be worrying her to death.

I went back into the cottage. “Well, I sure hope it’s not serious. Poor Jinx! It’s always something, isn’t it? I think we should be careful about what we say to Kathy Kay about Paul John. You know how she is. She’ll worry herself sick about that boy.” When Jake didn’t say anything, I went on, “So…what do you think about the girls’ idea? Going to that Calabash seafood place?”