Lowcountry Summer (12 page)

“Would you like some champagne?”

“Whatever you want, I want!”

“Oh, Bobby!”

“What’s that I smell?”

“Come see, baby boy.”

I took him by the hand and led him into the kitchen. The air was thick with the smell we both adored—roasting pork. I opened the oven door.

“What do you think?” I said, slicing off a tip from the end and feeding him with my fingers. He, of course, pretended that he was going to suck my fingers right off my hand. Men are so silly.

“I think you know how to drive me wild, Miss Caroline.”

“You open the champagne. This baby won’t be ready until eight-thirty or so. It seems that I have forgotten to wear panties, so I’ll just slip upstairs and—”

“I’ll just be right behind you!”

Well, he was. Figuratively and literally. This boy had spent a little too much time in the barnyard, but I wasn’t complaining. Sometimes I felt like a foreign heathen with all the missionaries I had known. So there we were, doing the wild thing, I was feeling very wanton and wayward, and Bobby was breathing very hard. The next thing I knew there was a deep groan, a massive thrust, and he collapsed on the side of my bed. He was out cold.

“My God! Are you all right? Bobby Mack! Answer me!”

I checked for a pulse and there was none. Quickly, I called 911, thinking I would then dress him and start CPR.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

“My friend appears to have had a heart attack! He’s not breathing! Please hurry! Oh my God!”

“Just calm down, ma’am. Tell me your address.”

“I’m at the end of Parker’s Ferry Road—Tall Pines Plantation! Hurry! Please!”

“I’ve just dispatched an ambulance to your house. Now, have you ever done CPR?”

“Yes, but not since I was in my twenties! Oh God! What if he dies?”

“Okay, here’s what I want you to do . . .”

Forgetting about everything except saving Bobby Mack’s life, I put the emergency aide on speakerphone and followed his instructions. It wasn’t easy to haul Bobby to the floor. His deadweight felt like a thousand pounds. Deadweight! What was I saying?

“Bobby Mack! Wake up! Oh God! Please wake up!”

I tilted his head back, pinched his nose, and covered his mouth with mine, blowing with all my might. His chest rose and fell and I repeated this several times. Then I placed the heel of my hand in the middle of his chest and pressed down with every bit of strength I could summon. I kept repeating the two actions until I thought I heard him start breathing. When I was sure he wasn’t dead, I sat back on my heels and began to cry.

“Oh, Bobby! I was so frightened!” I took his hand and squeezed it.

Bobby was disoriented and unsure of what had happened. I heard people coming up the stairs calling out “Hello, hello!”

“We’re up here! Right in here!”

I stood up to grab my caftan and I threw it over my head just as I saw the medical workers rolling the stretcher into the room. When the silk of the hem hit my feet, I looked up into the eyes of Matthew Strickland.

“Um,” he said in a very quiet voice. “I heard the call and just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

Oh. My. God, I thought. But I said, composing myself as my mother would have done and this was definitely a WWLD moment (What Would Lavinia Do), “Matthew, this is precisely why I love you so much! Wait just a minute, okay?” As calmly as I could, I picked up the telephone to speak to the 911 operator. “Help has arrived,” I said. “Thank you so, so much for all your help. I think we saved a life tonight. Yes. Of course. Thank you again. Good night.”

I scooped up Bobby Mack’s belongings and placed them on top of his belly on the stretcher.

“Where are you taking him?” I said, ignoring Matthew for the moment.

“Medical University in Charleston. Look’s like he’s had a massive heart attack. But since he’s stable now, we think it’s safe enough to transport him to Charleston.”

“Yeah, we’re halfway there and Charleston’s closer and better equipped than anything else around here,” said the other attendant.

“I can’t thank you all enough. Here, I’ll come out with you.” We proceeded across the upstairs balcony and down the front stairs. “Now you need to know that this man is a very important man . . .” I ranted on about Bobby Mack’s stature in the world, a little nervously perhaps. When they closed the back of the ambulance, not before I had kissed Bobby’s forehead of course, I was satisfied that he was in good hands. Just as I came back into the house, the telephone was ringing and the kitchen door slammed on its hinges. In seconds Millie and Mr. Jenkins were there, all fluster and concern.

“Everything’s fine!” I said, and rushed by them to grab the phone on the hall table. It was Trip.

“Caroline? I’ve got a big problem here! Can you drive out to Walterboro and talk some sense into these girls of mine?”

“Trip? Any other time, I’d be honored, but tonight it seems I have a little
situation
of my own.” I told him an abbreviated version. He whistled long and low.

“Gotta love this family. We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said, and hung up.

I placed the phone back in the receiver and turned to face Millie, Mr. Jenkins, and Matthew Strickland. “The Girl from Ipanema” was streaming from the living room and everyone except me had already noticed that I had Mother’s caftan on inside out.

As though everything was perfectly normal, I said, “Have y’all had dinner?”

8
The Girls

I
T WAS A MINOR STROKE
of genius that Trip and Rusty drove to Walterboro in separate cars. Trip stayed there overnight. Rusty most assuredly did not. In fact, the great-hall clock had just struck seven-thirty the next morning and there she was on my kitchen steps like Marley’s ghost. I was upstairs, finishing dressing, when I heard the bong from downstairs and the slam of her car door. I hurried to unlock the kitchen door and let her in. Rusty, whose appearance was always a redheaded Grace Kelly circa 1950 perfect, looked like she’d just run through a wind tunnel.

“Good heavens! Girl? Did you sleep at all last night? You look like who did it and ran! You want coffee?”

“You would, too! I’ll help myself.” She took a mug from the cabinet and filled it. “Come to think of it, you had a heck of a night yourself! Trip told me what happened. Awful.”

“Well, obviously the worst part is Bobby Mack’s heart attack, not my personal embarrassment. I mean, who cares about that? Needless to say, I am worried sick about him. I’m headed down to Charleston to see him.”

“Is he going to be all right?”

“I think so. I mean, the EMTs said he was stable when they took him away.”

“Good grief! And Matthew was there, too?”

“Yeah. Matthew is so sweet. He understands everything. I think everyone except Trip knows that Matthew and I have a funny little thing going on sometimes that isn’t so serious, so it
was
an awkward moment. The thing I love about Matthew is that he always makes me feel like everything is going to be okay, you know what I mean? Oh God, why am I running my mouth about this? Tell me what happened with the girls last night! I’m dying to hear!”

“What happened? What happened? I don’t even know where to start!”

“Do you want breakfast?”

“Heavens no, but thanks. I couldn’t eat a thing!”

“Me either. So, you got there and what?”

“We got there right before six last night. Trip went in the front door and the three girls were in the family room, draped all over the furniture like big old yard dogs. Schoolbooks were everywhere but they were watching some loud reality television program instead of doing homework, which annoyed Trip to no end. To make matters worse, there was a pizza box full of uneaten crust on the coffee table and a giant bottle of Diet Coke. Dirty glasses everywhere.”

“Nice touch.”

“Right? So Trip says, ‘Girls? Turn off that television. We need to talk.’ They looked up to him, said nothing, probably because they were stunned to see him there in the first place. Then they looked over to me and said, ‘What’s she doing here?’ ”

“And you said, ‘Oh, I’m here to bake cookies?’ ”

“Are you kidding me? I didn’t say one word. I stood there and let Trip do all the talking. So when they didn’t turn off the television, he just picked up the remote and turned it off himself. They started moaning, even Chloe joined in like a choir member, and I was counting on her to cooperate. No such luck. Trip said something like, ‘Let’s all go in the dining room. Now!’ ”

“And they said, ‘Oh, yes, Father dear! Whatever you want!’ ”

“Not quite. The groaning continued until finally they got up, went to the dining room, and took a chair. Trip sat at one end of the table, which is where I guess he used to sit. He told them that Frances Mae was gone to California and wouldn’t be back for at least eight weeks but it could be longer.”

“How’d they take that?”

“They just got quiet. Then Belle realized that her mother was going to miss her high school graduation. She became furious. I mean, she didn’t start complaining because it was a fait accompli but the disappointment was all over her face. All she said was, ‘My graduation! There it goes, y’all! Poof!’ And she snapped her fingers in the air.”

“Poor child. But on the bright side, maybe she will be spared an embarrassing scene. Old F.M. could’ve shown up blitzed and passed out flat on her face or something.”

“True. Anyway, after it was all said and done, they finally agreed on a plan of sorts.”

“Which is?”

“That we’ll hire a housekeeper to live in and who drives and who will stay with them five days a week. She’ll manage Chloe’s life and the house, and the girls will clean up after themselves. We hope. Linnie and Belle can drive themselves to school, but they all have to spend the weekends with us out here.”

“I’ll bet that plan’s got about enough of a chance of survival as a snowball in hell.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Weekends, honey. What about prom? What about ball games and other things like dates? Sleepovers? I mean, these girls have a weekend life, don’t they?”

“Well, thankfully at that moment the girls’ attitudes were tempered by the news about Frances Mae, but they asked the same questions you just did. Trip, bless his heart, said, ‘Look, we’ll handle each event on a case-by-case basis.’ ”

“Case by case. You just can’t take the lawyer out of the boy, can you?”

“Guess not. Anyway, this weekend will be my first weekend with them and I gotta find a housekeeper on the double!”

“Didn’t Frances Mae have someone helping her out a couple of days a week?”

“Yeah, but she quit. No surprise there. I’ve got her number and thought I’d start with her anyway.”

“Well, the country’s suffering from a lot of unemployment, so there’s probably a lot of talent out there.”

“I sure hope so.”

“I’ll ask Miss Sweetie and Millie if they know anyone looking for work.”

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”

“And if it gets too hairy with them this weekend, you can always escape over here. So, are you sure you don’t want some breakfast?”

“No, thanks. I’m okay. Don’t have much of an appetite anyway.”

“Me either. So, Rusty? Who’s helping out over there until you find someone?”

“Trip. He’ll be there every night. He stayed last night.”

I looked at her and shook my head. My left arm was across my chest, the elbow of my right arm rested on it. The fingers of my right hand strummed my lips.

“You look like Jack Benny when you do that,” Rusty said.

“Oh, thanks. Jack Benny. We’re supposed to be too young to know who he is. I’m just wondering how in the world this is really going to work.”

“I don’t know but it seems like a reasonable plan, doesn’t it?”

“It seems to me that you and Trip are overlooking the fact that the girls resent you like Tibetans resent the Chinese. I mean, Rusty, don’t you know they’re going to make your life miserable?”

“Caroline? They will. I’m certain of that. But I don’t have any alternative here but to try and make this work. Even the girls finally admitted that leaving them there on their own wasn’t the best idea.”

“Come on. Did they think that they could handle everything by themselves?”

“Of course! Belle kept saying, ‘But I’m eighteen!’ And Trip would say; ‘Yes, you are, but for the sake of your own safety and your reputation, you still need adult supervision in the house.’ They must’ve thrashed that argument out about twenty times. It was exhausting.”

“I’m sure. But it sounds like you came away reasonably unscathed.”

“Oh no I didn’t. Linnie called me a
F
-ing bitch under her breath and gave me the finger, twisting her hand in front of her face that had a pretty ugly expression going on.”

“What? What are you telling me? That little witch!”

“Too bad for her Trip saw it all and heard her.”