Lessons of a Lowcountry Summer (20 page)

“Which impacted on the island's economy,” Lee added. Eyes wide, Rebecca nodded. “What do you want from me?”

Rising, Rebecca moved over and sat on her husband's lap. His arms went around her waist. “I want nothing from you but your support.”

He buried his face in her curly hair. He wanted to support her, but he also did not want to lose her. Setting up a preservation foundation and hosting fund-raisers for her cause would take her away from her home and her children.

“If I tell you that I can't give you my support, will you change your mind?”

Easing back, Rebecca stared at him for several seconds before slipping off his lap. She stood over him, her eyes widening until he could see their golden depths. “You can't or you won't?”

He met her direct stare. “I can't. Not now, Rebecca.”

She folded her hands on her hips. “When, Lee?”

“Give me time.”

“How much time do you want?” she shot back.

Lee stood up, his hands going to her shoulders. “I'll let you know before the end of the summer.”

Rebecca's forehead furrowed in a frown. “Why the wait? Why can't you give your answer now?”

His fingers tightened on the cotton T-shirt over her delicate shoulders. “Because I don't want to lose you now,” he said softly.

“What do you mean? You're not going to lose me.”

He lowered his head. “I am losing you, baby. Every day we spend apart, we grow apart.”

“That's not true, and you know it.”

Lee stared out over her head, certain Rebecca could hear his heart pounding in his chest, smell his fear. “I don't know why I keep thinking that you're punishing me for cheating on you.”

“I've forgiven you. What you have to do is find the strength to forgive yourself. I needed some time away from Charleston to see myself for who I am, and for who I've become. What I found out was that I didn't like myself. I used to be Rebecca Owens, wife to Lee, mother to Ashlee and Kyle.”

“What are you now?”

“I'm still Rebecca, wife and mother, but I also have another reason for getting up every morning other than to make breakfast. Growing up in Lowell, I always felt disconnected from black people. Whenever I wanted to see more than fifty black folks at one time, I had to go to Boston. That's why before I graduated high school I decided to apply to historically black colleges.

“I cried the first time I walked into this shack as you call it, because it was nothing like I was used to back in Charleston or even Lowell. But after going out with Ezra and listening to him interview native islanders, people whose African descendants were brought to the Sea Islands to work the rice and cotton plantations to make their European owners fat and wealthy, I felt nothing but shame. All you have to do is take a look at several of the large plantation properties with the tiny outbuildings that made up the slave quarters, and you'll never complain again about not having air-conditioning.

“Now real estate developers are looking at McKinnon as the perfect place for exclusive resorts, private roads, spas, golf courses, tennis courts, and riding stables. All of these things mean two words: big profits. They profited off us four hundred years ago when the first African was brought to these shores, and even though I am not Gullah I will fight and make certain they will not rape our people again. They cannot turn McKinnon Island into another Hilton Head. Daufuskie, as well as Edisto, Wadmalaw and Johns Islands, are the latest to lose to developers. There's a famous Gullah proverb that says: ‘If oonuh ent now weh oonuh dah gwine, oonuh should kno weh oonuh come f'um.' ”

Lee saw tears in his wife's eyes. “What does it mean?”

“If you don't know where you're going, you should know where you come from.”

A muscle quivered at his clean-shaven jaw. “Do you know where you're going, Becky?” His voice was calm, his gaze unwavering.

She blinked once. “Yes, I do, Lee. I know where I'm going with or without you.”

He stiffened as if she had struck him, his hands falling away from her body. “I'm going to ask the kids if they want to go back to Charleston with me.”

Her heart lurched in her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe. “You can't,” she said, once she recovered her voice.

The joy she'd felt when seeing her husband again after a three-week absence dissipated like wisps of moist breath on a frigid day. “Why are you doing this, Lee? Do you resent me so much that you'd try to drive a wedge between me and my children?”

“Why do you keep saying they're your children, Rebecca? When are they ever going to be
our
children?”

Her nostrils flared in fury, and in that instant she hated Lee more than she had when she'd found out that he had been sleeping with another woman. “You low-down, controlling son of a bitch.”

Rebecca's angry retort hardened Lee's features. His near-black eyes seemed as flat as his cheekbones. “Have you listened to what you've been saying, Rebecca? You haven't mentioned Ezra Smith's name once, you've mentioned it at least a dozen times. You're not taken with a cause, but with a man.”

Turning on his heel, he stalked down the porch and to the beach. Rebecca could not hear what he was saying to Kyle and Ashlee, but whatever it was, they did not agree. They shook their heads at him. They stood close together, watching their father retreat to where he'd left his sport-utility vehicle.

He started up the engine, backed out of the driveway and drove away in the direction of the landing for the ferry. Ashlee and Kyle returned to the porch, their questioning gazes fixed on their mother's face.

Kyle was the first one to break the silence. “Is Dad okay?”

Turning her head slowly, Rebecca stared at him. “I believe he will be.”

Ashlee wound her arm through her mother's. “He said he'll be back tomorrow night to pick us up.”

“I think he's mad because we didn't want to go back with him,” Kyle explained.

Rebecca smiled. “He'll get over it.” She pressed her palms together. “We can either spend the rest of the afternoon here, or go into Savannah to do some shopping and sightseeing. It's your call.”

“Savannah,” Kyle and Ashlee chorused.

Rebecca nodded. “Okay. Tomorrow afternoon my neighbor is having a cookout, and we're invited. There will be kids there who are about your ages for you to hang out with.” She smiled. “As soon as you change out of those wet clothes, we'll be off.”

She reclaimed her chair on the porch and waited for her son and daughter to change their clothes. She and Lee had disagreed, but this time it did not bother her. There had been a time when she never would have challenged her husband, but that was in the past. Now, all she looked forward to was
her
future—with or without Lee Baxter Owens.

 

 

H
ope had been up for hours,
basting, slicing, dicing, mixing, and sautéing, when the clang of the cowbell joined the slapping sound of a whisk beating egg yolks. She put the whisk aside and went to answer the bell. Rebecca stood on the porch cradling two large foil-covered pans to her chest. Her curly hair was held off her forehead by a headband covered with black grosgrain ribbon. She looked cool in a pale blue, loose-fitting sundress and a pair of matching leather sandals. Her attire and petite figure made her appear a lot younger than her actual years.

Hope opened the door, smiling. “Good morning. Please, come in.”

Rebecca walked in and sniffed the air. “Mmm-mmm. Something smells good. What are you cooking?”

“You must smell the sweet potato pies. I just took them out of the oven.”

“I made brownies. One pan is double chocolate without nuts, and the other is covered with chopped peanuts, filberts, pecans, walnuts, and macadamia.”

Hope walked back to the kitchen, Rebecca following. “I suppose no one is going to count calories today.”

“I've stopped monitoring everything I put in my mouth since coming here.” Rebecca placed the pans on a countertop next to the sink.

Wagging her net-covered head, Hope sucked her teeth loudly. “It's always the skinny ones who are on a constant diet. Right now I'm hovering around one sixty, and it's the thinnest I've been in years.”

“One sixty looks good on you because you're tall. When I was pregnant with Kyle I went from one twelve to one fifty-seven, and I couldn't see my toes or bend over. At five-two I looked like the Michelin man.”

Hope went back to whisking eggs for homemade ice cream. “Did your children come down?”

Rebecca sat on a high stool, watching Hope as she poured a portion of hot liquid into the beaten egg mixture before she stirred it back into the saucepan over a double boiler. “Yes, they did. They got up a little while ago. We hung out rather late last night in Savannah.”

“They've never been to Savannah?”

“No.”

“I'm looking forward to meeting them and your husband.”

“Lee isn't coming to eat. He'll be back sometime tonight to pick up Ashlee and Kyle. They're committed to working one more week at the summer day camp.” She closed her eyes in an attempt to keep her emotions in check. “I think I fucked up.”

Hope lifted her eyebrows at the expletive. She never would have guessed that her very proper, straitlaced neighbor would ever say
that
four-letter word aloud. “What about?” she asked as she strained the thickened mixture into a large bowl.

Rebecca's hands shook slightly as she told Hope about her confrontation with her husband. “I said things to him I didn't mean to say. They just came out because he more or less accused me of being involved with Ezra.”

“Are you?” Hope's voice was low and coaxing.

A rush of color darkened Rebecca's cheeks. “Of course not,” she replied quickly. “I'm not saying I'm not attracted to him, but I am not involved with him the way you think.”

“How do you know what I'm thinking?”

“I don't, Hope. He's a brilliant historian, and he has helped me see things I never would've seen before if I hadn't met him. He's helped me open my eyes to a different kind of world where people don't measure their importance by the make of their cars, bank balances, or the number of carats on their wrists, fingers, or necks.”

Hope stared at her neighbor as a chill of silence surrounded them. “Are you certain you don't want to set up a preservation foundation out of guilt? Because you feel sorry for the poor McKinnon Island Gullah who probably will never have one-tenth of what you have unless they sell their land and precious legacy to a greedy developer?

“Do you actually think these people will welcome you with open arms once you drive up to their door in your Mercedes with a Rolex on your wrist, Manolo Blahnik on your feet, and wearing enough bling-bling for a Harry Winston print ad? I may be Dr. Hope to the outside world, but to longtime islanders I'm still Queenie Robinson's grandbaby girl. And that's all I ever want to be here on McKinnon.

“But, on the other hand, I like what you're proposing, Rebecca, and if you want my support, then you have it. I'm certain Janie and Thomas Smith will volunteer to help, because they're committed to preserving Gullah culture. If you need other names, then I'll give them to you.”

The tense lines in Rebecca's face relaxed as she breathed in shallow, quick gasps. “You think it will work?”

“Why shouldn't it work? All you have to do is use Williamsburg as your model, and it's guaranteed to work. I believe there are two abandoned plantations that should be purchased before the developers get to them.”

“We're going to need money—and a lot of it.” The words tumbled from Rebecca's lips.

“How much do you think you're going to need?”

“I don't know.”

“I suggest you talk to Janie and Thomas. They should be able to give you an idea of how much it cost them to restore their property.”

Pressing her palms together, Rebecca did not want to acknowledge the inevitable. She would have to go back to Lee, apologize, and then ask for his help. After all, he was president of a bank and had direct contact with businesspeople who could possibly invest in a venture to preserve McKinnon Island's Gullah culture.

“I'll ask them, and I will also ask my husband.”

Hope measured the vanilla mixture into three bowls, adding honey and pecans to one, and pistachios and dried cherries to the second. She did not add anything to the third, knowing some people preferred their dessert without the fruit or nuts.

“I thought you said your husband refused to support you.”

A mysterious smile curved Rebecca's mouth. “Lee is president of a bank, and at this juncture in my life I'm not above seducing my husband to get exactly what I want. And what I want is to set up the McKinnon Island Historical Society before the end of the year.”

“Well damn, Sophie Lady, you're something else,” Hope drawled, as she gave Rebecca a high five handshake.

Nodding her head, Rebecca smiled. “I won't be the first woman to do it, and I'm certain I won't be the last.”

 

Hope had showered
and pulled a white, man-tailored shirt over a pair of black capris when the cowbell clanged for the second time that day. Slipping her feet into a pair of mules, she made her way to the door. Theo and his family had arrived. Opening the screen door, she stepped out onto the porch.

“Good afternoon. Welcome. I've planned for us to eat on the beach.” Rebecca had helped her carry a long wooden picnic table with two matching benches down to the beach. A tent with a canopy of sailcloth suspended from four poles provided protection from the rays of the sun in an overcast sky. A gas grill sat a few feet away.

Noelle nudged Brandon. “I told you we were eating on the beach.”

Helen smiled at Hope. “Do you need my help with anything?”

Hope pulled her gaze away from Theo's seemingly amused one. “I'm going to need some muscle to carry several boxes to the beach.” Christian, Brandon and Theo stepped forward.

Helen reached for Noelle's hand. “We'll just sit around and eat while the jocks work.” Her quip failed to elicit a smile from Noelle.

Theo took charge when he said, “Chris, unload the SUV and set up everything under the tent. Brandon, you and I will help Miss Hope.”

“You didn't have to bring anything,” Hope said, staring at Theo.

He lifted a pair of broad shoulders under a white T-shirt. “Don't look at me. It was Helen.” The older woman rolled her eyes at Theo before she walked into the house, Noelle and Brandon following her.

Theo took a step, bringing him inches from Hope. “Did you get my e-mail?”

Her gaze lingered on his smiling mouth. “No. When did you send it?”

“This morning.”

She blinked. “I didn't check my e-mail this morning.”

“Bummer,” he said softly. Reaching up, he touched the damp hair grazing her shoulders. “I like your hair when you wear it down.” His gaze moved with agonizing slowness from her eyes, to her shoulders, and came to rest on her chest.

“Thank you.” The two words were a husky, breathless whisper.

“No, Hope. Thank
you.”

Hope felt a tingling in the pit of her stomach. Theo disturbed and soothed her at the same time. His womanizing reputation kept her at a distance, while he radiated a sensual masculinity she found herself powerless to resist.

“Rebecca and her children will be joining us,” she said, deftly directing the topic away from herself.

Theo's smile widened. “Good. The kids can hang out together.” His smile was still in place as he followed Hope into the house.

 

The five teenagers
eyed one another as Rebecca made the introductions. Christian's expression was impassive, as was Noelle's. Brandon and Ashlee shared a smile, while Kyle appeared totally bored, even though he was being given the opportunity to interact with someone other than his sister.

Hope leaned closer to Theo as they stood at the grill, basting slabs of spareribs and chicken with a spicy barbecue sauce. “Teenagers,” she said under her breath.

He grunted under his breath. “They're extraterrestrials.”

“They're not quite that bad,” she countered, giving him a sidelong glance.

Lowering his head, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “Noelle got her period for the first time yesterday, and all she does is mope.”

“Has she complained of cramps?”

“Cramps and a headache.”

“Take these.” She handed him a pair of tongs. “I'll fix her a tea that should help.”

Theo took the tongs, but not before he curved an arm around Hope's shoulders and kissed her forehead. “Thank you.”

She smiled up at him. “You're welcome.”

 

Four hours later,
Noelle sat on the sand with her brothers, Ashlee and Kyle, singing the lyrics to the
Bad Boys II
soundtrack. The teenagers had paired off: Noelle with Kyle, and Ashlee with Brandon. As the eldest, Christian had become the unofficial chaperone for the group.

There had been more than enough food for everyone. Hope had prepared potato salad, barbecued and fried spareribs, barbecued chicken, crab cakes with a black bean sauce, crispy fried popcorn shrimp and catfish fritters, a large pot of turnip and mustard greens, sweet potato pie, and homemade ice cream. Helen's contribution had been a carrot salad with golden raisins and a large bowl of watermelon balls. It had taken three and a half hours to sample every dish set out on the eight-foot-long picnic table. After eating, everyone had decided to wait before sampling dessert. All had pitched in to carry food inside where Hope, Rebecca and Helen had stored the leftovers in the refrigerator. Theo, Christian and Brandon had returned the grill, picnic table and benches to the shed behind the house.

“You cooked too much, Hope,” Helen complained as she eased down onto one of three quilts spread out on the sand under the tent.

“I agree,” Rebecca moaned, “but it's not her fault that we ate too much.” Following Helen, she, too, stretched out on a quilt, leaving Hope and Theo to take the remaining one.

“Amen to that,” added Theo. He glanced over at Noelle. She sang, eyes closed, her lithe body moving to a rocking tempo. He smiled at Hope. “It appears as if your magical brew worked.”

“It works for me. I'll give you some to take home for her. Was she prepared for this?”

Theo nodded. “Her mother had prepared her. Noelle told Helen, who in turn told me. I have to admit that it freaked me out. She's only thirteen—two years younger than Mary when she got pregnant with me.”

Hope placed her hand over Theo's fisted one. “Don't get crazy about it. In other words, don't smother her the way my brothers did my sister and I. Having older brothers can be a good thing, but it can also be a curse.”

“They chased away all of your potential boyfriends?”

“Not me, but my sister's. I didn't date until college.”

“What did you do? Spend all of your time studying?”

“No.” She stared at the waves washing up on the sand. “Not too many guys wanted to be seen with a big girl. I'm really proud of today's young women who have come to accept their curvaceous bodies. Not focusing on how they look helps them to like who they are.”