Sweetgrass (10 page)

“For the Bennetts, a family that’s been connected to mine for generations. They moved in and lived here for a spell, but after they had a few children, they moved out to a house of their own. The next tenants were my parents. That brings us to the fifties. Daddy modernized it some more and brought his bride in right after they were married. They lived here till my grandparents died. At that point, my parents moved into
the big house and it’s been empty ever since. We kids used it as a playhouse, guests stayed in it occasionally, but as for tenants, you’re the next.”

“I’m honored,” she quipped.

“I put in a new fridge and microwave. And an air conditioner in your bedroom. All the comforts of home.”

“So I gather this place has been in your family for a long time?”

“You could say so,” he said with a slow drawl. “Oliphant Blakely came over in 1769 with a land grant in hand. This started out as an indigo plantation. A house was built later that used to stand over there,” he said, pointing out a window. Kristina moved closer to peer out. She was tall, but her head only reached the tip of his nose. He caught the scent of citrus and flowers, which was surprisingly fresh on this hot day. He reached over her shoulder to guide her line of vision.

“Over there, next to that big old live oak tree with the swing. See it? There’s a plaque marking the spot. It was the oldest house in the parish.”

“What happened to the original house?”

“The same thing that happens to a lot of the old houses. Earthquakes, fire, rot. Eventually a hurricane swept the foundation away.”

She began moving back and bumped into his arm. Their eyes met briefly and the air between them was charged. They muttered quick apologies.

“So,” she asked, walking away from him and looking around the room, “who built the new house?”

“Ah, that would be Beatrice. She was quite a character, our Beatrice. Oliphant’s first wife died in childbirth and Beatrice was his second wife. She wasn’t much more than eighteen when she married him and he was getting up there in age, but she bore him seven children, five of whom died
before she did. After her husband died, Beatrice ran the plantation herself and took it upon herself to build the new house with an eye to future generations. She saw to every detail. That’s a lot of doing for a woman back in the days when only a man could vote.”

“She must’ve been a remarkable woman.”

“From all the stories, I gather she was. Ran the plantation with an iron will.” Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “But don’t take my word for it. Ask her.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He chuckled, pleased with her confused reaction. “Apparently, dear grandmother Beatrice haunts the house.”

“Really? A ghost?” she asked, her interest peaked.

“So they say,” he said, tucking his hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall. “Not that that’s such a big deal in Charleston. Almost all the old houses boast a resident ghost.”

She seemed intensely curious. “How do you know it’s haunted?”

“People claim to have seen her walking the halls at night, or praying by her bedroom window, or rocking on the veranda overlooking the plantation. There’ve been dozens of sightings over the years, or reports of hearing her footfall, the creaking rocker, all sorts of things. Some say she worked so hard to build the place up, the old matriarch can’t leave it. Nona won’t sleep in the house. She swears she’s seen Beatrice any number of times, as her mother did, and it creeps her out.”

“Have you seen her?”

“Me?” He shook his head. “No. I wish I had. It might have made a believer out of me.”

“I take it you’re the skeptical type, then?”

“That’s me. Doubting Thomas.” He tilted his head as though inspecting her more closely. Her blue eyes sparkled
with amusement. “And I think we can assume you’re a hook-line-and-sinker type?”

“You’ve got me pegged,” she replied with a light laugh. Their eyes met again and he could tell that she was enjoying herself, and that the attraction was mutual.

“Now, Hamlin,” he continued, “absolutely believed Beatrice haunted the place. He used to try to make me stay up all night with him, waiting for her. But I was younger and fell asleep, got bored, whatever.” He shrugged.

“Hamlin?”

Morgan brought his hands from his pockets and straightened. “My elder brother. Hamlin Blakely IV.” His expression clouded. “He passed away years ago.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She paused, then adroitly returned to the subject of ghosts. “Well, who knows? If he saw the ghost, maybe I’ll be lucky and see her, too.”

“You’re not afraid, then?”

“Me? Oh, no. Not at all. In fact, I think it’s pretty cool. A haunted house…” She looked around the kitchen house and, chewing her lip, asked, “Say, this place isn’t haunted, is it?”

“I thought you weren’t scared!” He laughed and waved a hand at her instant objections. “Sure, sure,” he teased. “Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure no one’s spotted a ghost in the kitchen house. You’re pretty safe here.”

Her cheeks flamed prettily. “I wasn’t scared. Just curious.”

“Right.”

“Really!”

“Time will tell,” he chided, liking her more. Kristina Hays had a self-possessed yet friendly demeanor which he found easy to be around. “But in the meantime, make yourself at home. When you’re ready, follow the gravel path to the house and let yourself in. You can duel with the two women who’ve taken Beatrice’s place at running this estate with iron fists. My
mother and Nona. The dynamic duo. They’re both pretty determined women and both extremely protective of my father.”

“I like them already,” she said, following him to the door, her eyes bright with anticipation.

A few days later, all was in order for Preston’s arrival home. Mama June walked through the main floor of her house, clasping her hands tightly as she inspected every detail. Yellow light flowed from the lamps and the house smelled of floor wax, citrus polish and the abundant flowers that filled vases throughout. She felt a twinge of regret at seeing her lovely dining room converted into a makeshift hospital room. The doctors suggested it would be much easier for everyone if Preston stayed on the main floor to avoid stairs. Nan and her boys had helped move the dining room furniture into storage to make way for the hospital bed, the Hoyer lift and other medical paraphernalia.

Scanning the room, she couldn’t help but smirk at the ornate crystal chandelier that hung directly above the rented hospital bed. It was the last hurrah of the room’s grandeur and lent the sterile hospital-like room a certain
je ne sais quoi.

All that was left was to wait. Restless, she moved on to the front porch. Great shafts of bright sunshine broke through dark clouds. Movement caught her attention, and turning her head, she saw Chas and Harry goofing around on the wooden swing, killing time.

Soon he’d be coming down that road, she thought, looking out at the avenue of oaks. She’d worked so hard to make this happen. Memories of the ambulance carrying Preston away to the hospital that terrible night sprang to mind. Her hand lowered to rest against her racing heart.

She’d never known such terror. She had been sitting in her room, reading her Bible for solace after the harsh words ex
changed with Preston, when she’d heard an odd noise from outside her window. It sounded like the muffled cry of an animal, maybe the howl of a cat or an owl. She’d closed the Bible and cocked her ear, listening intently. What followed was a loud thump and crash, and shortly afterward, Blackjack’s husky bark ringing with alarm.

Mama June had endured more than her share of death and sorrow in her lifetime, but to find
him
sprawled out on the floor, his face ghostly white under the harsh porch light…

She’d thought he was dead. She’d thought her own heart would stop at that very minute, too. But rather than panic, a strange calm came over her and she knew exactly what to do. Help had come quickly. She could still see in her mind’s eye the small red taillights of the ambulance disappearing down the dark drive and Blackjack running after it, his bark mingling with the wail of sirens.

Her hand rose to her mouth, stilling the trembling of her lips. She shouldn’t have argued with Preston! Such things she’d said to him, right here on this very porch. Words she’d muttered only to herself over the years. What had possessed her to say them aloud? She cringed with guilt at the memory of how his face had fallen with shock and some other, painful emotion…what? Defeat? Anguish?

“Oh, Lord, forgive me,” she prayed, closing her eyes tight. The stroke had been her fault.

She thought a voice whispered her name in her ear. Mama June swung her head around to look out over the porch to the road, eyes searching.

Beyond the expanse of green grass the roadbed curved round from the front of the house down the avenue of oaks. Blackjack paced, sniffing the road, then jerked his head up, ears alert. Mama June’s heart stilled. Her breath caught as the bright red hood of an ambulance broke through the green.

Blackjack’s barking alerted the family. The boys’ laughing stopped abruptly and their heads swung toward the road.

“He’s home!” Mama June exclaimed in a choked whisper.

In a rush, Morgan and Nan rushed past to greet their father. Mama June remained frozen on the porch, clutching the back of a wicker chair. She closed her eyes, feeling an odd separateness.

“Mary June?”

She opened her eyes, grateful to see Nona’s face near her own. Nona, who knew her so well. Nona, who had plucked her from her darkest moments. Nona’s dark-brown eyes probed far beneath the veneer.

“What’s the matter?” She moved closer and laid a hand on her arm.

Mama June knew that it was fear that held her back, fear of what his homecoming meant. “Oh, I’m just nervous, is all.”

“Of what, honey?”

“Fear that I won’t do right by him. What if Adele is right? I’m not skilled. What if I fail? The stakes are so high. He deserves better than me.”

“You’re the only one he wants, Mary June! You’re the only one he’s ever wanted. There’s no one better than you. Now, go on out there. Your husband’s home! What’s he gonna think if you’re not outside to greet him?”

She squeezed Nona’s hand, nodded her affirmation, then took a deep breath and stepped forward to begin what she knew was the next phase of her life.

As the paramedics transported Preston up the front stairs, the family drew nearer in excitement, calling out his name in welcome while Blackjack’s bark echoed joyously.

Welcome home! We missed you! Look who’s found his way home!

The front door swung open as the group followed him indoors, all save Blackjack, who commenced whimpering and pawing at the door. Ignored, he threw back his head and yelped pathetically, desperate to be near his master after such a long absence.

They placed Preston on the hospital bed in the middle of the room and settled him. The mood changed as the excitement of his arrival waned and the reality of his limitations became apparent. Nan and her boys hovered on the fringe. Chas and Harry’s eyes were wide with shock at their grandfather’s frailty, more obvious now that he was back in the familiarity of home. Morgan hung back near the door. He stood slump-shouldered with his hands deep in his pockets, his eyes unreadable.

Mama June’s gaze swept the room then alighted on her husband. She saw immediately that he was confused. The family voices that she heard as music filled with joy and excitement, she knew he heard as a ferocious white noise he couldn’t recognize.

Light blazed from the chandelier, flowing mercilessly down on Preston, pinning him like an insect under a microscope. Gone was the proud patriarch that sat at the head of the table with authority. This strange, thin man lay helpless with his right arm held crunched up against his chest and his fingers curled tight. Despite the tightness of muscle that held his body rigid, however, there was an uncontrollable shaking, and his eyes looked from left to right in panic. Mama June surveyed the scene with a profound sadness.

Then she saw Kristina approach him slowly and stand at the foot of the bed. There was a palpable power to Kristina’s silence. She stood watching him for several minutes, biding her time, as everyone around them fell silent, too. Mama June could hear Nona rattling dishes in the kitchen, a mocking-
bird’s song and the scraping and sniffing of Blackjack hunting a spider on the porch.

Preston’s wandering gaze at last landed on Kristina. She seemed to grasp and hold his focus. Gradually, Mama June saw the wariness slip from his eyes. That must have been what Kristina was waiting for, because she walked around the bed to his side and, still without speaking, reached out to take his hand in hers and bring it to her chest. It seemed to Mama June to be a warm, even intimate, gesture. She could almost feel the connection between them herself. They remained looking at each other, his hand in hers, until slowly, gradually, his shaking subsided.

Only then, when he was calm, did she speak. “Hello, Preston. I’m Kristina,” she said in her lilting voice. “And I’m here to help you.”

Mama June released a long sigh of relief and thought to herself,
I am not alone.

As if she’d heard, Kristina turned her head toward Mama June and, with her free hand, reached out and gestured for her to come near.

Mama June cleared her throat and stepped forward, surprised that her heart was pounding. Kristina took hold of her hand and placed Preston’s hand in her own, connecting them.

“You need time alone with your husband,” Kristina told her. “I’ll be in the next room. Just let me know when you’re done.”

Mama June turned her attention to her husband and found him shaking again. She looked up in alarm, but Kristina was already herding the rest of the family out of the room. She brought his hand close to her chest, as she’d seen Kristina do.

“Preston,” she called. His skin felt flushed and covered with a sheen of sweat. “Preston,” she repeated with force, tightening her grip.

Preston’s gaze stopped shifting to fix on her. Mama June
held his gaze, sensing with each second that she was his beacon to guide him through his confusion. Looking into his bright blue eyes, she smiled reassuringly and, not releasing her eye contact, leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.