Bulls Island (29 page)

“You look so much like your mother, do you know that?”

“Thank you. I’ll take that as high praise.”

“You’re welcome. Just seeing you brings her back to life. Do you know that?”

“Sure. I get that.”

“Can you imagine what it’s been like for me to live out my life without the only woman I ever loved?”

“Better than you might imagine, Daddy.”

I thought about how I had comforted myself over the years with Adrian’s resemblance to J.D. and I knew exactly what he meant. I was a thief, no better than the criminals who’d smashed up our construction site. I had robbed Daddy and myself, too, of so much. I had
cheated Daddy, Joanie, J.D., and Adrian in innumerable ways. With each passing hour, I knew the time for honesty was growing closer, and the closer it crept to me the more I trembled inside. The innocents would side with one another and I would be shunned. Wouldn’t I? I certainly deserved to be punished and I freely admitted it, but only to myself. I couldn’t help it, but tears began sliding down my cheeks and Daddy noticed.

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

He rubbed my back while my tears fell into the sauce I stirred, and I wondered what to make of us all, certain that my father was having the same thoughts.

“Do you want to talk about it? Is it J.D.? The alligator?”

“It’s everything.”

“I understand.”

“I know you do, Daddy. Oh, shoot! It’s just been a lot, you know? These past few weeks? It’s a lot to handle.”

“I’m sure it is, sweetheart. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay.”

And that was when I broke down and wailed in my father’s arms until I was all cried out. He had said everything would be okay. Did he have any idea how long it had been since anyone had even implied to me that things might actually work out?

“Go wash your face,” he said.

“Right. I don’t want Joanie to see me like this.”

“Oh, come on now. We’re family, aren’t we?”

When his eye caught mine, the absurdity of the truth brought on a blast of laughter and I knew that for the moment, everything actually was all right.

Soon Joanie was there with a much-improved haircut and we were eating dinner like it was old times.

“Your hair looks terrific, Joanie. And your makeup.”

“Are you wearing makeup?” Daddy said. “Look at me; let me see…so you are! Well, you look very nice.”

“Oh, Daddy. Thanks to Betts and that genius. Boy! She was really nice! I thought it was gonna be some stuck-up place like, I don’t know, some highfalutin beauty parlor, but she was so daggum nice!”

“Well, of course she is! She owns the business, too.”

“Really? They sold me a whole bunch of stuff. I hope I can just remember what goes where and for what.”

“After dinner, let me see it and maybe I can help you figure it out.”

“Really? Thanks. By the way, this is very good, Betts,” Joanie said.

“Well, thank heaven, because it’s about the only thing I know how to cook.”

They smiled at that and I took it to mean they were glad I wasn’t accomplished in every quarter. It made me more like them.

The meal went off without an unkind word. As we were cleaning up, Joanie went out to the dining room to get her shopping bag, which was on the chair with my purse. I saw her peek in my handbag and didn’t say anything. But when she lifted out the framed photograph of Adrian that I had yet to remove to a safer place, my heart almost stopped. Just as I was turning away I saw her smiling in recognition. What was I to do?

There was no way to get her to wipe the sneer from her face, so before I left, I went to her on the porch, where she was brushing her nasty dogs.

“Joanie?”

“Somebody has a big secret,” she said, reverting back to her old mean-as-a-snake self. “Oh yeah! A big one.”

“Somebody had better keep her mouth shut about it, too.”

“And why wouldn’t I do that? Are you threatening me, Betts?”

“No. I’m
guaranteeing
you. One word and you’ll regret it.”

“We’ll see.”

I remembered then why I didn’t like my sister.

Later, at two in the morning, when I still had not found a wink of sleep, I took a Tylenol PM. In the morning when I crawled out of bed, it took me a few minutes to recall that Joanie had been added to the list of “Those in the Know.” History had proven that it was going to be extremely difficult for her to keep the secret to herself.

Joanie was horribly outspoken and had been all of her life. When we were children, she would always be the one to report who had cheated on a test, and later in high school, she’d been known to tell a girl who wasn’t necessarily a friend of hers that she had seen her boyfriend kissing someone else. Maybe she thought that delivering these infomercials would somehow endear her to the recipients, but it never did. If anything, she was viewed as a vicious blabbermouth and was very unpopular. You would think she would have learned something about discretion by the time she hit thirty-five, but there was precious little evidence of maturity in her judgments. I knew she was probably champing at the bit to tell Daddy and perhaps even J.D. or Valerie, or anyone who cared to listen about what she’d just learned about me. Great.

As soon as I got to the office, not looking like Miss America, I’ll admit, I called Sela.

“You busy?” I asked.

“No, Ed’s gone to work and I’m just getting a massage from Russell Crowe.
Yes! Right there!
”

I couldn’t help but grin despite the seriousness of my call.

“Thank God you’re so crazy.”

“Thank you. So, what’s going on? I saw all the mess in the newspapers this morning and on the news last night. Gatorzilla is hungry again and on the move!”

“He swam over from Capers for a midnight snack.”

“Gross.”

“Truly. Well, that’s what that poor SOB gets for wrecking private property. It’s somewhat like terrorism.”

“You know what? It is. It’s environmental terrorism, isn’t it? It’s out of Ed’s jurisdiction, but if you want, I can have him look into it.”

“Sure! If he could help in any way at all, we would be thrilled.”

“No problem, he’s got tons of friends on the Mount Pleasant and the Isle of Palms police forces. So, what else is going on in your crazy world of high finance and corporate intrigue?”

“Um, you’re not gonna like this because I don’t.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Joanie found a hand grenade and she’s about to pull the pin.”

“Meaning?”

“A framed photograph of Adrian that was resting in the top of my open purse.”

“Holy crap. What did she say?”

“Oh, she’s just way too smug and I could see that she was about to burst the news to Daddy. Basically, I threatened her life.”

“Think she’ll listen to you?”

“In the short term, but I know her. She’ll choke if she can’t spill the news to someone whom it would nearly kill with a heart attack.”

“Betts? Betts?”

“I know, I know…”

We talked some more and I told her of my plan to tell J.D. about Adrian before I left Charleston. She was mollified by the news that I had moved closer to telling the truth, but not convinced that I would follow through. Frankly, she was right, because a true best girlfriend could hear your chicken feathers when they ruffle.

At that moment Sandi buzzed me. J.D. was in the outer office.

“Send him right in.”

Sela and I said good-bye, the door opened, and there stood J.D.,
looking like he had suffered a long night. He wasn’t disheveled—southern gentlemen are rarely disheveled—but his eyes were bloodshot and he oozed crankiness.

“What in the world happened to you?” I said.

“And I might say the same about you.”

“Look, I’m excused today because I had dinner with Joanie and Daddy last night.”

“If I told you what happened to me last night, they could make a movie out of it.”

“Really? Tell me.”

“Well, first of all, here’s a copy of all the insurance claims and the police report. I thought you would want them for your records.” He handed me a manila envelope.

“Thanks. That was very thoughtful because in all likelihood New York would have asked. You want some coffee?”

“Yes, thanks. Coffee would be good. Half-and-half, if you have it, no sugar.”

“Don’t you know I have half-and-half? This is a swank outfit, Mr. Langley.” I buzzed Sandi and asked her to fix tea for me as well. “FYI, I drink my tea with half-and-half, no sugar. I’m sweet enough.”

“I don’t know if
sweet
is quite the most appropriate adjective to describe you, but okay.”

“What would you say would be, then?”

“Betts, I’m trying to honor your promise to my momma, so let’s not go there.”

“Yo momma! Good grief.” We smiled at each other then, recognizing the sheer physical exhaustion in each other. “But you still haven’t told me the story of last night.”

“Where to begin?” J.D. looked up at the ceiling and then back at me. “Okay, so it’s midnight and Valerie is nowhere to be found. She’s not answering her cell and I have no idea where she is.”

“Not good.”

“No, definitely not good. And I think I told you that over the last week her behavior has been very erratic. Nutty talk, delusional really, and mood swings. All that kind of stuff. Then I found the pills and knew she was buying on the street. Not good.”

“No. That’s seriously dangerous.”

“Right.”

Just then Sandi appeared with a tray, put it on the table, and started to serve.

“You know what, Sandi? I can do that. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Sandi knew the code for “leave us now and close the door,” which was exactly what she did, knowing she would hear it all anyway at a later time.

“Thanks, Sandi,” J.D. said.

“You’re welcome,” she said, and closed the door behind her.

“So, it’s getting very late, naturally I’m getting concerned, and then the phone rings.”

“The dreaded middle-of-the-night phone call…”

“Exactly. But it’s not the police calling, it’s the bartender from a private club downtown. He tells me that my wife is there and in no shape to drive. Somehow he talked her into giving him her car keys, don’t ask me. Anyway, she’s sitting up there at this bar with two guys from New York, drinking vodka, and she’s completely stoned on something. I say, hang on to her and I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Not like you live next door,” I said.

“Right, but I figure I’d ask O’Farrell for mercy if I get a ticket for speeding.”

“Ed would understand.”

“Well, that didn’t happen, but I was racing hell-bent for leather the whole way there. Sure enough, I get there, she’s bombed, we haul her butt out of this joint after tipping the bartender on the very generous side and take her home. This morning she doesn’t re
member a thing, like, where is her car? So, without a word to me, she takes my SUV and goes off again, presumably back downtown.”

“J.D.? What are you going to do?”

“I have talked to her about rehab, but I’d say at the moment she’s not interested in that.”

“Obviously. She’s in über-indulgence mode.”

“Good name for it.”

“So, who were the two guys from New York?”

“Some guy who owns a string of boutique hotels who told me not to feel bad, that this kind of thing happens.”

Vinny!

“And the other one?”

“Some punk who works for him. Or used to work for him. It wasn’t clear. Seemed very nervous. He was giving the hotel guy an envelope of pictures or money or something, said it was personal. The hotel guy is probably tracking down a bad debt. Who knows?”

How small was the world?

“Did they seem to know Valerie?”

“No, they were a few seats away. Well, actually, that’s hard to say. The punk seemed familiar with her. But they helped me get Valerie out to the car and we talked for a few minutes. Why do you have that look on your face?”

“This might sound crazy to you, but I have a hunch that I know those two men. They didn’t give you a card or anything, did they?”

“No, nothing.”

“Figures. That just figures.”

I
was in J.D.’s office, settled on a couch, wishing I had the chutzpah to say something very naughty to him and seduce him right there, but we were waiting for Ed O’Farrell to arrive so we could go over the Bulls Island vandalism with him. It wouldn’t do for the chief of police of Charleston to find us twisted up like a couple of undulating pretzels. Just a thought.

“What’s the latest with Valerie?” I said, since Ed had not yet arrived, and I felt compelled to ask about her, as I had just experienced a vision of my hips under her husband’s. Guilt.

“I don’t know. Terrible, I guess. When she’s home, she’s usually sleeping, and frankly, we aren’t talking much. When we do speak, it’s ugly. She is one very angry woman. I mean, I can’t blame her. But she’s dangerously ill, at least in my opinion, and she doesn’t want any help, so it’s very frustrating for me.”

“Great. But she thinks she has reasonable cause for her rage. She doesn’t know how well behaved we are.”

“True. I’m sure she imagines us having this huge love affair.”

“Meanwhile, we’re like Saint Francis and Saint Claire, Abelard and Héloïse…”

“Exactly. Meanwhile, every time I see her, she’s as tight as a tick or stoned to the bone or some combination of the above. I can’t seem to have a rational conversation with her. Yep. Welcome to my world. Nice, right?”

“No. It’s awful. I feel sorry for her.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t welcome your pity.”

“I’m aware. Maybe I should say that I feel empathy for her.”

“And why in the world would you sympathize with
her
? What about me? I’m supposed to be helping her and she won’t let me. I get to worry about her driving drunk, maybe killing somebody. I keep taking the car keys from her, but that only causes more arguing. I mean, at some point I’m just going to have to sit her down and tell her it’s rehab or it’s really over between us because I can’t live like this forever.”

His words stung so badly it was as though he had slapped me with all his strength. I thought he had already told her he wanted a divorce. Now he was waffling. Wasn’t he? My face got so hot I was sure he could see it. All I wanted to do was to run from the room. How could I have failed so miserably to get the correct read on his feelings? It was all I could do to appear calm and centered.

I cleared my throat and said in the most cavalier voice I could manage, “Well, I guess it’s true that you can’t always get what you want in this life.”

“There’s a song in there somewhere…”

He was completely unaware of how deeply he had upset me. How crazy was I to be so unnerved? Wasn’t he merely doing the thing he had promised to do? And why was his attention to his wife’s illness and this new ultimatum he was planning give her making me so insecure? Because, my love for my son and a few
friends aside, I didn’t trust the blazing emotions that seemed to accompany affairs of the heart, that’s why. I had once trusted them, and they had pulverized my life; and for all the years since then, I had sworn that I’d never trust my feelings again. All those mighty and mettle-testing proclamations…yet as soon as I saw J.D. again, I had let myself believe that our love was still alive. Apparently, he had not arrived at the same conclusion.

As those thoughts rushed through my head, J.D.’s intercom buzzed and his secretary announced Ed O’Farrell.

For some crazy reason, I found myself indulging in some ridiculous juvenile behavior. For example, Ed was wearing a suit and I had to say he looked very impressive and even intimidating, perhaps because I knew there was a gun somewhere in his pants and I wondered where it was. What was the matter with me? I needed serious hormone adjustment and a Dutch uncle’s advice.

“Hey, Ed! Good to see you!” I stood up and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Then I blushed.

“Hey, girl!” He gave me a kiss, too, and then shook J.D.’s hand.

“Come sit down,” J.D. said. “You want coffee?”

“Nah, too hot. You got a Diet Coke?” He patted his rock-hard abs and said in his Irish brogue, “Gotta be watching me girlish figger, you know.”

Returning to my senses, I smiled, thinking how lucky Sela was to have a loyal gorgeous husband, and all at once I wished I had one, too, perhaps because it seemed like such an impossibility. Well, I wasn’t dead yet, and if J.D. really did eventually dump Valerie, perhaps, well then…well, what? You see, it only took one or two minutes and my mind was trying again to envision myself at J.D.’s side.

It was best to stay focused on the moment, I told myself, and just put those fantasies in a sealed box in my attic.

In minutes, J.D.’s secretary placed a Diet Coke over ice in a glass
tumbler in front of Ed and I said to her, “Know what? Do you have mineral water? Suddenly a cold drink seems like an excellent choice.”

“Me, too,” J.D. said to his secretary, and then took his seat behind his desk. “So, Ed? What’s the news?”

“Unfortunately not much. But I called in a few favors and this is what we got. Work-shoe imprints that match a particular model widely sold by Wal-Mart, fingerprints that match nobody on God’s green earth, and tire-tread prints that match a 1971 Volkswagen van. They called every auto body shop and every detailer in the Charleston area and the whole way up to Columbia, and there are no reports of anyone bringing in a bloody van to clean. The hospital says the victim’s only visitors are family members and he hasn’t regained consciousness to be questioned. Now, there
was
a surveillance video from the ER delivery area, but it’s too fuzzy to make out a face or a plate number. So, unless this dude wakes up from his very long nap, we got nothing.”

“How’s he doing?” J.D. asked.

“Not well,” Ed said.

“Probably having one nightmare after another,” I said. “I would be.”

“I’ll say,” Ed agreed. “Anyway, looks like he’s gonna be in the ICU for a very long time. Apparently, he had some sort of a stroke or a brain bleed.”

“You have to wonder,” J.D. said. “You have to wonder if this guy ever thought his politics could bring him to this. I mean, alligator attacks?”

“Usually they grab little dogs,” Ed said. “That gator must have been highly threatened to attack an adult human.”

“The poor guy was most likely in between the gator and the water,” J.D. said. “Usually they grab their prey, drag them into the water, and drown them. Then they eat them—”

“Okay! That’s enough! Ew! Gross! I may never eat again!”

“Well, Ed, thank you for this highly informative session,” J.D. said with a laugh.

“If I hear anything remotely useful, I’ll call one of you.” Ed stood and drained his drink. “Gotta go back to fight the good fight and save us from whatever evil lurks!”

“Give Sela a kiss for me,” I said.

“You know it.” He shook J.D.’s hand. “Thanks for the cold one. Sorry I couldn’t tell you more.”

Ed left and J.D. went back to his chair.

“It’s one of the mysteries of life, isn’t it?” I said. “How people get so wrapped up and passionate about something, and in a heartbeat, their whole life changes in the most unbelievable ways.”

“Hmmph.”

“What? What do you mean,
hmmph!
”

“Where passion can lead? Like ours? Like the car accident that killed your mother? One night, one storm, one truck?”

“Good example. Yeah, that’s really true. The whole world changed in that instant. But may I point out that it wasn’t our passion that caused my mother’s death?”

J.D. was quiet. Excuse me, but five minutes ago he was telling me how he was going to lay it on the line with Valerie, and now he was mooning at me all hangdog, with guilt over his mother’s disastrous behavior all over his face? What was the point? To elicit some understanding from me? I didn’t think so. I continued talking, trying to fill up the awkward silence.

“It happens all the time, I guess. Like this poor misdirected soul who met up with Gatorzilla. I mean, he might
die
because he thought he was doing the world a favor. It’s so wrong.”

“Yeah, well, you’re right.”

“Glad I’m right about something. Um, which part am I right about?”

“That it happens all the time. Speaking of events that change your life and the dangers of passion, and I don’t know why I am feeling comfortable enough to tell you something I haven’t even told Valerie, but there it is. Big Jim told me a story that would make your hair stand right up on end.”

“Tell me.”

“Take it to your grave?” J.D. arched his eyebrow at me and I knew he was being very serious.

“Of course.”

“It seems I have a brother. Actually, a half brother.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I do. I have a half brother.”

“Good grief! What does that mean?”

“What does it mean? Let’s see.” J.D. looked up at the ceiling and then back to me. “For one thing, it means my mother gets her jollies every time his mother cleans our toilets.”

“Wait. Your housekeeper is the mother?”

“Yep. How do you like that? Seems she used to be an exotic dancer in one of Dad’s clubs. Dad had a roving eye back in those days—you know, a love-’em-and-leave-’em kind of deal? But this time he really fell in love. Anyway, when they discovered there was a biscuit in the oven, he wanted to marry her. But Mother, as you might imagine, flat refused to give him a divorce. So, Rosie—that’s her name—moved into one of our caretaker’s cottages and has been there for fifteen years. You know, it’s funny, I had always thought that Mickey looked like my grandfather.”

“J.D.! You mean that kid you brought to the first event out at Bulls?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“What a story! You just found this out?”

“Yep. And I’m sworn to secrecy not to tell Mickey, who doesn’t
know. It seems that no one has the balls, pardon the expression, to tell the truth anymore.”

The room took a swirl and I took a slide to the floor. Who in my shoes would not have fainted?

The next thing I knew, my head was in J.D.’s lap and he was politely slapping my cheeks—the ones on my face, thank you.

“What happened?”

“You fainted.”

“I never faint!” My skirt was way up my legs and one shoe was missing. I must have looked a sight! “Oh, gosh! Help me up!”

After some fumbling around, I made it to my feet and found my shoe, straightened my skirt and my hair, and sat down again.

“Whew!”

“Well, at least the color is coming back to your face. You okay?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what happened!”

“We were talking about Mickey being—”

I held up my hand. “Right. I remember now. It’s okay. I’m fine. Maybe I’ll drink some water.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Of course! It must be the heat. You know, I’m not so used to all this heat and humidity. Then Ed giving the gory details of gator kills…too much for me.” Playing the magnolia would excuse me.

“Did you eat breakfast?”

“J.D.! Stop! I’m fine! I swear!”

He walked around his desk and took his seat, staring at me as if keeping an eye on me would restore perfect equilibrium. Then he called his secretary to bring in some water, which she did.

“Okay. Are you able to talk a little business?”

“Of course!”

It wasn’t true. I was hardly able to keep my mind on anything he said because the discovery that he had a half brother did not seem to
have made him as happy as I would have imagined. In fact, the deception made him angry. His half brother was only a few years younger than Adrian. I racked my brain trying to envision a good outcome. A family reunion? A holiday dinner? I could not see it. And the fact that J.D. had entrusted me with the information and not Valerie was an indication that he was dealing with a marriage in its death throes, not one that was being revived. The problem was that he was not ready to admit this. Or maybe I was dreaming again.

He rattled on and on about the public-relations event, saying that our companies should share a full page in the
Post & Courier
inviting the public to come see for themselves. We would do a PowerPoint presentation on six big screens. There would be brochures to take home and a website to track the progress and give the public ongoing information. We would compare Bulls Island to the great successes that had come before us, like Spring Island and other communities that had worked out so beautifully and pleased the environmentally sensitive leaders. We needed a slogan; J.D. was thinking of a few and wanted me to ask New York for their thoughts, and did we have an advertising agency that we worked with that might have an idea about this?

We reconfirmed the date with Bruton, two weeks from Saturday, and decided we would ask Sela to cater. We would also ask Ed if he had some off-duty officers who could be there just in case there was trouble.

It seemed like a reasonably good start. We had a plan, and once the plan began to become reality, I knew I would feel better about the future of Bulls Island.

“I’ll call Sela,” I said, “and put together a menu and a budget. Should we serve alcohol? Beer and wine? Cash bar?”