We Interrupt This Date (29 page)

“I didn’t.” I poured myself a glass of water and
downed the aspirins in one gulp. I couldn’t help but notice that
the bag of dog food was still sitting unopened on the kitchen
island next to Mama’s car keys. How nice. It would be up to me to
feed and water Brad and put him in the utility room for the
night.

“She’s right, we didn’t go out.” Jack sounded like
going out with me was something he’d do when they held the Winter
Olympics in hell. “Nic ended up at a motel in a neighborhood where
the criminals outnumber the regular citizens. I had to come to the
rescue after she got a couple of flat tires on her van.”

Mama let out a muffled shriek and clapped her hand
over her heart--which prompted both the Chihuahuas to leap up from
their bed in a corner of the room and race snarling to the foot of
her chair, obviously prepared to defend her against all
intruders.

“Susan, what in the world were you thinking? You
could have been accosted by drug dealers or even sex maniacs and
dragged into a dark alley.”

“Yes, what were you thinking?” DeLorean said. Her
nostrils flared. I would have bet she was just itching to stomp her
foot, but Mama hates it when she does that and she probably figured
it wasn’t worth the drama. “You were supposed to stay here with
Mama while I used the van. Now it’s too late--after I looked
forward all day to seeing my friends.”

I reached behind me with both hands and gripped the
edges of the countertop to keep from heaving the nearest breakable
object across the room. Between half-gritted teeth I ground out,
“For your information, Mama. And DeLorean. I went to see Philip
Beauchamp to tell him his little blackmail scheme is over for good.
" The headache moved lower and stabbed me somewhere behind my right
ear. I winced and briefly closed my eyes. The phone rang and I
snatched up the receiver to stop the sound from drilling an extra
hole in my head.

“Hello,” I barked.

“Hey, Mom, it’s your favorite son.”

“This is a bad time, Christian. Could you call back
later?” Someone, probably Mama, had set the phone on speaker. I
fumbled for the mute button and missed.

“You can spare one minute, Mom. I need to know if you
decided yet whether you’re going to take on some extra hours so I
can quit my job. Save me, Mom? Please. And one more thing—Trinity’s
going to Charleston next month for a college visit to decide if she
wants to transfer. Can she stay with you for a few days?”

I held out the receiver and gave it a dagger of a
look. Next I took in the unwelcome sight of my audience--DeLorean,
her fine-boned face still twisted into a sulk because I’d ruined
her evening out. Mama, clearly scandalized, fanning herself with a
limp handkerchief. Jack leaning against the wall wearing a smirk,
though I’d have expected him to be steaming because I’d taken him
away from Veronica in the middle of their date. I wanted to smack
him. I wanted to smack them all.

Something inside me snapped. If I’d had a speaker in
my chest like the one on the phone, I’d have bet the sound would
have been audible across the room.

“Yes,” I said between gritted teeth. “I’ve decided.
You’re a big boy, Christian. You can work your own way through
college. I have a life of my own. Did you hear me? A life of my
own. And now I’m going to start living it, spoiled son and all. As
for Trinity, I like her. I’d be happy to have her stay.”

Mama gasped. The handkerchief became a white blur.
“Why, Susan Caraway, there is no need to get into such an
ugly
mood and I cannot understand why you would consent to
let that purple-haired trollop back into your house. I am shocked.
”

“Not as shocked as you’re going to be when I tell you
that I don’t appreciate your attitude after I helped you with
Philip. Thanks to me, he isn’t going to bother you again. And if he
does, so what? You can choose to tell Rhett the truth and hope he
still wants to get married or you can choose to keep living a lie
and praying that Philip stays away for good. Your problems are not
my problems, Mama. Not anymore.” Surprised at my display of
attitude, I clamped my mouth shut and waited for a response. For
some reason I half expected Mama to have a heart attack and lie
staring up at me with reproach in her eyes during her final
moments. Or for her to dump me, hauling herself out of her chair to
hobble out of my life for good. Or for the roof to come crashing
down on me.

I actually started trembling and my breathing became
fast and shallow. But nothing happened. Not one single thing.
Unless you counted the fact that Christian’s voice floated out of
the phone to say, “Gee, Mom, no need to yell. I asked, that’s all.
I can manage okay if you don’t have time for a second job. And,
Mom? I’m sorry. I just didn’t think.”

“I’m glad you’ve made that decision. Because that’s
the only choice you have if you plan to finish college.”

“I get it. Case closed.”

Brad chose that moment to decide there might be an
army of Huns invading the yard. Or maybe he was simply hungry and
thirsty. Whatever the problem, I didn’t appreciate the barking and
the pitiful howling right under the kitchen window and I was sure
my neighbors weren’t exactly dancing a happy jig, either.

I turned to my sister. “DeLorean, you forgot to take
care of Brad. I know you’ve been through a rough time with your
breakup and Cole keeps you up at night. Believe me, I’ve been there
and I do sympathize. But Brad is your responsibility. In fact, you
have a lot of responsibilities now that you’re an adult and a
mother. I don’t care if you keep Brad, but if I were you, I’d do
the right thing and give him to someone who has time for him
instead of expecting me to act as your kennel maid.”

“Fine, I get the picture.” She blinked rapidly. “You
don’t have to be so bitchy.”

Second time tonight someone had made that accusation.
So what? If bitchy meant I was through letting my family members
walk all over me, then I’d gladly accept the label.

“I’m not finished, Dee. It’s time for you to stop
pouting your way through life expecting me to pick up the pieces
every time to you make a bad decision. You have a baby to think
about. I know it’s not easy on your own and I’ll help you as much
as I’m able. But I’m not willing to sacrifice every resource and
every spare moment so you can remain a helpless child.”

I braced myself. But there was no storming out of the
room. No disowning me forever. No death or other calamities to
punish me for being mean to the sister I loved so much.

DeLorean drew her breath in sharply. I could tell she
was processing what I’d just said and didn’t like it. I couldn’t
blame her. My attitude adjustment probably didn’t make sense in her
mind. But then, why should it? I’d always fallen all over myself to
handle any crisis she’d ever had. I’d spoiled her as badly as I’d
spoiled Christian and I’d let Mama expect me to come running every
time she even
imagined
she might have a problem.

“Susan, from the moment you had this ghost hunting
idea, you have not been yourself. It’s time you came to your senses
and realized you need to stay on at the pawnshop.” Mama shook her
finger at me in a very unladylike way. “DeLorean and I discussed
your situation earlier this evening. You need the stability of your
job.”

“Stability? The pawnshop?” Oh, that was rich. I waved
my arms back and forth as if I were directing the Charleston
Symphony during Spoleto. “Listen up, everyone, I have an
announcement. You can all stop telling me to go back to earning far
less than I’m worth working for Odell Hoganboom. That’s no longer
an option since I got fired last week.”

“You got what?” Mama’s face first went pale, then
turned a garish shade of red. I might as well have told her I’d had
a tattoo that read “prime tail” applied to my right buttock.

“That’s impossible,” DeLorean said, staring at me as
if I’d just turned to marble in front of her eyes. “No one would
ever fire
you
.”

“Why? Because I’m way too accommodating? Guess those
days are over.”

A squawking sound came out of the phone. I turned to
glare at it, made another stab, and finally hit the mute
button.

“So you can all quit telling me I’m not allowed to
work where I want to work, when I want to work.”

Even Mama was struck silent by my screeching. For all
of sixty seconds. Then she straightened her back and visibly pulled
herself together, a paragon of southern ladyhood once again. “I
don’t know what’s come over you. I should not have to remind you
that it is pure bad manners to show temper and discuss family
business in front of a guest.” She shifted her eyes sideways toward
Jack, as if I didn’t know which guest she was talking about.

Maybe if I hadn’t followed the direction of her gaze
and seen Jack still slouching against the wall, I would have been
able to calm myself and apologize. But he was obviously on the
verge of laughing at me. In fact, I was positive I heard a snicker
escape from the side of his mouth.

“What’s so funny, Jack? Isn’t it time for you to
scurry back to Veronica before she starts to worry?”

Bitter tears sprang to my eyes. Oh, damn, not now. I
knew I wouldn’t be able to control the tears for more than thirty
seconds and I was not about to cry in front of Jack and make him
think I cared that he and my best friend couldn’t keep their
eyes—or whatever--off each other. I leaned forward to snag Mama’s
keys and my purse.

Before anyone could try to stop me I dashed out of
the house and down the driveway. It took two tries for me to start
the Cadillac and I had the fleeting thought that I should to take
it back to the garage for Mama and get it checked out. Then I
remembered I was no longer going to solve my family’s problems and
that Mama had to handle her own car repair problems.

I didn’t know where I was going, but five minutes
later I realized the car was taking me toward the Cooper River
Bridge. Fine, anywhere but home was good.

I roared across the bridge to Charleston, knowing I
was lucky a cop didn’t stop me, and took East Bay to Calhoun
Street. I found a parking garage near Broad where I left the
Cadillac on the third level.

My headache had dulled considerably since the
aspirins. I remembered I hadn’t eaten since lunch and thought about
getting a sandwich and a cup of coffee, but eating seemed like too
much trouble at this point.

Charleston is a very walkable city. I trudged
aimlessly for block after block, not bothering to pretend I was
doing anything even so purposeful as window-shopping. People
traveling in groups or pairs congregated on corners and pushed past
me going in the opposite direction. They all seemed to be chatting
happily as they wandered in and out of shops and restaurants, and I
envied them their peace.

I tried to block out their excited conversations. And
I wished it were impossible for me to think and walk at the same
time. But even after five blocks, the thoughts kept coming,
crowding into my head, bringing up emotions I didn’t want to deal
with. I remembered a time when I was small and my dad walked with
me one night down these very streets. We were on our way to pick
out a birthday gift for Mama, and I was excited to be allowed to
stay up past my bedtime.

An image of my father floated into my mind and tears
began sliding down my face. A crowd of teenagers passing by glanced
at me curiously. Mama would have said she was shocked at their
rudeness, but then what could you expect from their generation.

I turned left at the next corner, crossing the street
to a less congested sidewalk so I could suffer without attracting
notice. A block or so further on a horse blew through its nose and
I looked up to see I was directly across from a ticket stand for
carriage tours. Three carriages waited in line. I fished a wadded
up tissue out of my purse, did a little damage control to my face,
and walked over to the teenager manning the register.

“Are you still open?”

“No, Ma’am. Night tours are by prior arrangement
only. We’ve got a big pre-booked party due in a couple of minutes.
Unless you’re with them—the Lambtons from Florida?”

“Uh, no.” I wondered if the Lambtons from Florida
would notice if I sneaked onto one of the carriages to ride with
them. Probably. I wasn’t dressed the least bit like a tourist and I
was sure my nose was bright red from crying and the Lambtons would
be happy people with no cares. “Thanks anyway.”

The first carriage in line was painted green and was
big enough to haul a family of six. The horse was huge, a bright
sorrel with a blond mane and tail. A broad blaze covered his face
and made him look friendly, the kind of horse you could tell your
troubles to if his driver weren’t around to hear. I patted the
horse’s neck and smoothed a few tangles out of his mane.

The driver made a half turn, keeping one eye on me
and one on the horse. She was a thirtyish woman with hair colored
the same shade of sorrel as the horse. “Thanks for choosing our
tour. We’ll be driving through Charleston’s famous historic
district for the next hour and as we go, I’ll point out sites of
interest.”

“I’m not with the Lambtons.” I shook my head. “And
I’m not a tourist.”

“Sorry. Just admiring the horse?”

“Yes, he’s a beauty. Do you mind if I pet him? It’s
been a rough day and I’ve always believed there’s something
soothing about horses.”

She focused on a fresh tear rolling down my cheek,
“No problem, ma’am. Pet all you want until my party arrives.”

I ducked my head and patted the horse again, but
footsteps and the chatter of voices behind me signaled the arrival
of the Lambton party. With a whispered good-bye to that big,
understanding horse, I trudged back down the street heading toward
Marion Square.