The Beach House (49 page)

“Of course I do,” Cara said, closing the Bible and turning toward her mother.

“You thought I was referring to all that junk cluttering up the Charleston house.”

“We talked about this, Mama. I know you meant us.”

“I did. But I haven’t even begun to shake out all the dust. Oh, Caretta, I’ve been going back and forth on this for months, one day thinking I’d made up my mind, then the next doubting the decision I’d made. I only hope I’m not too late and the good Lord isn’t taking that decision away from me.”

She cast a worried look at the windows. The wind seemed to be prying at the surface, seeking a way in. Lovie took Cara’s hand in both of hers.

“You asked me why I took all that abuse from your father for all those years.”

“Mama, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. So, please, just listen until I’ve finished. I’ve a lot to say.” She licked her lips and, after gathering her thoughts, began. “First you have to understand what it was like to be a wife in my generation. Not just a woman in the South, but a woman in my era. Our accepted roles were different. I daresay our attitudes were, as well. There was men’s work and women’s work. A woman was responsible for the home and children. It was where she belonged. For a woman to pursue a career as you did reflected as a failure upon her husband’s ability to provide.

“My mother raised me as her mother raised her—to believe that a husband’s word was law. I was taught never to refuse his needs. To stand behind him.” Her lips turned up in a wry smile. “Preferably two steps behind. And I was to bolster his self-esteem, not fluff up my own accomplishments.”

Cara leaned forward, trying to understand. “Are you saying you let him treat you so badly just because he was a man?”

Lovie shook her head, perturbed. “No. I’m trying to give you some background so you can understand what I’m about to tell you.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t interrupt again. Go on.”

“I was thirty-nine that summer—not much younger than you are now. Stratton was already quite successful. He was only too happy for me to spend my summers at the beach house with you children while he stayed in the city or traveled. He traveled quite a bit to expand the business then, especially overseas. I suspected he played with skirts a bit but I learned to look the other way. At any rate, here on the island there was no Turtle Team back then, no one who kept watch over the nests or maintained any records. There was only me.”

Lovie released Cara’s hand and, leaning back against the pillows, closed her eyes.

“And a man by the name of Russell Bennett.”

Lovie smiled briefly, enjoying the simple pleasure of saying his name aloud to someone else after thirty years. Hearing it made it all come alive again, real and not imagined.

“Russell? The man in the photograph?”

“Yes. He came to the Isle of Palms that summer to do research on the loggerheads. Russell was a naturalist. He was involved in his family’s interests, too, but what he loved most was just being out in the field doing research. Brett Beauchamps reminds me of Russell. Not so much in looks. Russell was tall like Brett, but lanky and fair. The contrast between his white-blond hair and his leathery tan was really quite dramatic. He was more like Brett in his personality. Quiet but intense and bright. Dedicated to the environment. I found that…very attractive.

“It was our interest in the turtles that first brought us together. I was the only one on the island at the time who took an active interest in the loggerheads, as clumsy as it was. I’d read everything I could get my hands on, articles, Archie Carr’s book, whatever. Looking back, I didn’t do too badly. Word got out that I was helping the turtles and Russell came to see me. When he looked at my records I could tell that he was impressed. And honestly, Cara, it was the first time I was ever proud of a project that had been totally my own.

“That summer we worked together. He taught me so many things about the loggerheads and how to help them. I learned so much….”

Lovie lifted her hands as though to make a point, then let them flop into her lap with a sigh of frustration, shaking her head.

“No, no, no. Cara, this isn’t what I mean to tell you. This isn’t about the turtles at all. I’m still covering up and I want to be completely honest with you. I must if I’m to tell this right.”

She faced Cara and saw dread in her daughter’s eyes. She hesitated, shaky and unsure how to proceed. She closed her eyes and from the darkness conjured up Russell’s face. There, deep in her heart, where her love for him resided, she found what it was she wanted to tell her daughter. Opening her eyes again, she bolstered her resolve and pressed on with more feeling.

“Do you know what it’s like to meet someone, to look him in the eyes and know, without a doubt, that this person is your soul mate? That’s what it was like for Russell and me. I remember it as if it were yesterday. We were on the beach with a number of others, all gathered to hear him talk about the loggerheads. It was a hot day. The sun was bright and I raised my hand to shield my eyes. The gesture drew his attention and our eyes met. I looked into his gray-blue eyes and for a moment it seemed as though we were the only two people on the beach. In the universe. I remember thinking to myself,
Oh no. Please God, no.
Because I knew at that moment that I would love him as I’d never loved any man before. Or since.

“We were both very polite, amusingly so. For several weeks I met him at dawn on the beach, strictly professional. I’d bring a thermos of hot coffee and we’d watch the sun come up. Then we’d get on our bikes and ride around the island in search of turtle tracks. Every moment I spent with him was a gift. Every word he spoke, I thrilled to. We tried so hard not to let our feelings show at first.” She chuckled lightly. “We were able to hold back until we began sitting at the nests together at night. Then—” She sighed. “We were desperately in love, Cara.

“We became lovers. Does that shock you? It’s an odd thing for a mother to be telling her daughter. But it happened—as I daresay we knew it would. We met most evenings on the dunes right across the road, in that lot that Palmer is so desperate to buy. Only, you remember what it was like back when our property was beachfront, don’t you? Before the road was built? The dunes used to stretch all the way up to our house. It was very quiet and sheltered then. A lush haven.” She smiled again and cast a slanted glance.

“I thought you were checking the nests!” Cara’s face reflected betrayal.

“I did. Faithfully. But I couldn’t very well tell you that I was also meeting the man I loved, now, could I? You were only ten years old. And I knew that this affair could not last beyond the summer. You must believe that, Cara.”

“But why did it end if you loved him so much?”

“This is the hard part to understand. It’s why I tried at the beginning to explain who I am. Who I was raised to be. You have to remember I was married. And Russell was married. We both came from families where a divorce would have been a scandal. It just wasn’t done in our circles. And more, we both
felt
our responsibilities and commitments. I could no more leave Stratton than he could Eleanor. At least in the beginning.”

She couldn’t restrain the surge of coughing that seemed to take more and more out of her every day. There were times Lovie believed she wouldn’t live through the next cough. Cara quickly turned on the oxygen for her and Lovie pressed the mask to her face to take a few breaths. While she settled her ravaged lungs, she heard the wind howl at the windows like ghosts rattling their chains.
Oh go away, Stratton. Your howling will do no good anymore. This story must be told.
She set down the mask and gestured with her hand for Cara to turn off the stream of oxygen. Then, sinking back into the pillows, she ignored the peevish wind and began her story again.

“As the summer came to an end, our feelings were too strong. Russell wanted me to fly in the face of our families, to divorce Stratton and marry him. It was a heady dream and I wanted it. Oh Cara, you can’t imagine how I wanted to do as he asked. Saying goodbye to Russell was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. At the end of August, we were together for the last time on our dune.

“It was one of those perfect nights that ripens in memory. I still see that full moon and the way it spread its silvery light far out across a stretch of sand, transforming it into something otherworldly. It was dazzling in its serenity and thus all the more poignant. The air was still, as though the night were holding its breath, waiting, watching to see how the final few moments of our summer would end. The only movement was the dancing of the waves along the shore, the only sound the beating of our hearts in rhythm with the breakers. We held each other tight as we wept and swore our undying love. We were every bit as tragic and full of emotion as any star-crossed lovers I’d read about in books. For that’s how I felt, like some tragic heroine forced to give up the love of her life for duty and honor. Yet, despite all our noble intentions, it seemed impossible that we’d never see each other again.

“So we made a last, desperate promise. We would wait six months. And if at that time one or the other of us wanted to leave our spouse, we would come to the beach house. There would be no pressure. No recriminations. If either of us didn’t show up, the other would never call again. We set a date. It was a ribbon of hope to cling to, and it gave us the courage to say goodbye.

“As I walked back along the sandy path to the beach house, I felt as buoyant as though I were bobbing about in the sea. I knew—
I knew
—I would keep that date. I would settle my affairs as tidily as I could, asking nothing from Stratton but my freedom, and I would return to Russell, free to be with him. My heart was like the moon that night, overflowing with light. I was aglow, laughing aloud as I waltzed along the path. I’d made my decision. I’d thought the worst was behind me.

“I didn’t know the worst had yet to begin. When I entered the beach house, Stratton was waiting for me. I can see him now as clearly as though it were yesterday. He was standing wide-legged in the middle of the room in a dark business suit. His face was pale with restrained fury and his hands were meaty fists at his thighs. He never came here and seeing him caught me by surprise. I held on to the doorframe, in part to steady myself, in part because I was but a breath away from running. A million thoughts raced through my mind in seconds but uppermost was relief that I’d come back alone. I couldn’t imagine how he could know about my affair, and yet I felt certain that he did. It was the way he looked at me, his dark eyes narrowed and his teeth showing like one of his hunting dogs when it catches the scent. I once saw those dogs rip a rabbit to shreds with their razor sharp teeth and Stratton’s eyes were bloodthirsty as he watched them do it. That was the expression I saw in his eyes that night and I was very much afraid.

“‘Where were you?’ he had ground out.

“I raised my hands to pull back my hair, trying to seem nonchalant. ‘I was at a nest,’ I replied in a voice that sounded anything but. ‘I go out to check them most nights.’

“He glared at me with his dark eyes. ‘All alone? So late?’

“‘Of course. It’s quite safe.’ I slipped out of my sandals and moved into the house, brushing away sand from my shorts. I froze. I saw that my wedding ring was off my finger. My eyes darted to his, and in that second I saw that he’d noticed, too. His gaze penetrated right through my defenses. I should have kept quiet, but like a guilty fool I began to babble.

“‘I never wear my diamond to the beach. It collects too much sand. And if I have to dig a nest it—’

“‘Who is he?’ His voice was low, like thunder, and his eyes flashed like lightning.

“I shivered. And then I lied.

“‘Who?’ I replied. Even as I asked, I knew it was pointless.

“Only now, in retrospect, do I see that I missed my one chance for salvation. If I’d owned up to the truth at the very beginning, if I’d been strong enough at that moment, if I’d trusted Russell enough, trusted our love, then everything that came later might have been different. But I was afraid, a coward. Too timid to confront him. So I slipped into the lie that condemned me.

“To this day I don’t know how he knew. Whether he saw us together or whether someone told him, or whether I’d left some telltale item in the house that he’d found. Perhaps his hunting instincts were so honed that he knew the scent of another man on my body. But he knew. And when he demanded that I name my lover, I refused.

“That night was the first time he hit me. He broke two ribs, my wrist and my spirit. A part of me died that night. But I never told him the name. Never. Not to anyone. Until this night.”

Cara felt the blood drain from her face. She reached out to place her hand over her mother’s, as much for her own comfort as for her mother’s. “I didn’t know,” she said, barely a whisper. “I’d always wondered if he hit you.”

“You and Palmer were away at friends’ houses that night—a small blessing I’m grateful for. I was able to hide the bruises with some story about a fall.”

“I remember now. Oh, Mama, how could I have been so naive.”

“You were a child. How could you have guessed? Stratton never hit me before or since that night, but that beating was enough for me to see his violent nature. I knew it was there and I lived with the fear it might come out again. Especially with you. I knew how strong willed you were. It was only a matter of time till you reached the boiling point.”

“You should have reported him to the police.”

“My darling girl, no. You don’t understand. I felt that I’d deserved my beating.”

“You can’t mean that.”

“I may not have broken his heart but I did break my marriage vows and the trust. It was the knowledge that I’d wronged him, Cara, that compelled me to bear it for so many years. It was the guilt that shamed me to silence.”

“But why did you stay with him?” she cried.

“He told me that he would never grant me a divorce. That he’d take you and Palmer away if I tried to divorce him. That he’d expose me as an unfit mother and the whore that I was. It was blackmail, made all the more powerful by the fact that I absolutely believed him. Stratton was a prominent citizen with connections and women had little recourse at that time, especially ones who had sullied their reputations. Even my own mother advised me to maintain my dignity and my silence. When I took into consideration how my action would affect all the people I loved, I made the only decision I could. And Cara,” she said with finality. “Knowing what I did about him, I could never leave the marriage and let him have custody of my children.”