Read Pawleys Island-lowcountry 5 Online

Authors: Dorothea Benton Frank

Tags: #Fiction, #Psychological, #General, #Psychological Fiction, #Secrecy, #Friendship, #Legal, #Women lawyers, #Seaside Resorts, #Plantation Life, #Women Artists, #Pawleys Island (S.C.), #Art Dealers

Pawleys Island-lowcountry 5 (31 page)

The children, uncomfortable with the notion of Miss Olivia’s dead body in the next room and very sad they had lost someone they had only recently attached themselves to, sat together on the sofa in the living room with Rebecca for a while. Miss Olivia’s death had shocked them, and they cried.

Huey finally came out of the room. The doctor, a kind fellow whose name I think was Dr. Harper, called the funeral home, and they were on the way to collect Miss Olivia’s body. He waited until the funeral home arrived and left, and then he shook hands with everyone, offered his condolences and said, “If I can do anything, just call me. I’ll be at home tonight.”

“Thank you very much,” Huey said. “This is a very, very sad day for me. I appreciate you coming. I know you only treated Mother a few times. It was very kind of you.”

“Mr. Valentine, you probably don’t remember me, but many years ago your mother took me, my wife and my children all around the Flagg house. She told us stories of her grandmother and great-grandmother hiding from the Yankees. And how they hid their silver and jewelry in barrels and buried them near the riverbanks. She brought the entire Civil War to life for them. My children were enthralled with every word she spoke. My son went on to become a history professor—he teaches at the College of Charleston—and anyway, it all began with your mother. She was quite a lady. I know you’ll miss her.” Dr. Harper removed his glasses and wiped them with his handkerchief. He put them back on and said, “This may sound a little strange, but I am honored to be with you today.”

You could almost see Huey’s plumage rise and spread like a peacock’s. I saw then that Huey needed to hear stories about his mother, about good things she had done, and those words would get him through the coming weeks.

Walking back to the house, I said to him, “You know, Huey. I can’t stand to think of you out here all alone with just Byron. I mean, it won’t be good for you. Would you like to come and stay with me on Pawleys for a few days?”

“All alone? Whatever do you mean? Are
you
all alone on Pawleys with
just Julian
? Let’s have cocktails, shall we?”

Did Huey mean what I thought he meant?

He went to the kitchen and when he came back out he said, “Byron will bring drinks right away. I think Mother would want to be toasted, don’t you?”

“Absolutely!” Julian said. “Why don’t I bring in glasses and open a bottle of wine? You know, make myself useful?”

“Normally, I would say let Byron do it, but I think we should get going here. I don’t know about you, but I can’t remember a single occasion when I have had a higher need for a bourbon. So yes, thank you, Julian.”

“I’ll help too,” Evan said and followed Julian.

“Me too,” Sami said. “I’d like a Coke in a bottle.”

“That’s my girl!” Huey said and turned to me and Rebecca. “Mother’s instructions were very explicit. She did not want a wake or a funeral. She wanted to be cremated and have her ashes spread on this land, in particular around the terrace area, so she wouldn’t miss sunset cocktails. She wanted a party.”

“Well then, let’s give a party in her honor,” I said. “Do you want to have some religious or spiritual segment in there? I mean, just someone to lead the group in a prayer for her?”

“I don’t know,” Huey said. “It would seem terribly odd to everyone if we didn’t, wouldn’t it?”

“I think so,” Rebecca said. “I mean, it wouldn’t have to be maudlin or orthodox either.”

Julian came in with four wineglasses and an open bottle of red wine. Byron was behind him with a tumbler of bourbon, a small bowl of ice and a plate of cheese and crackers.

“We’re talking about Miss Olivia’s celebration of life party she wanted,” I said, adding, “Thanks, sweetheart.” I took the glass from Julian.

I turned to see that Byron made no movement from the room. He was having a drink. He was no longer dressed in his service jacket. He was wearing a nice shirt. This was unusual.

Huey raised his glass.

“To mother! Miss Olivia Valentine! Mother? Wherever you are, I hope you can hear me and know that I think you are the finest woman I have ever had the privilege to know. I hope you are with Daddy and that you know we all love you and will miss you for the rest of our lives!”

“To Miss Olivia!” Byron said, and we all touched the edges of our glasses.

Everyone began talking at the same time.

“She was absolutely wonderful,” I said.

“Yes,” Rebecca said. “Extraordinary.”

“I’m going to get dinner on the table,” Byron said.

“I want to be like Miss Olivia when I get old,” Sami said.

“We should all try and be like her starting this very minute!” Rebecca said.

“Dinner is ready!” Byron called.

Huey took Rebecca’s arm to lead her to the dining room, saying, “How in the world will I—I mean how will the world be without Miss Olivia?”

We gathered in the dining room around the table, which was set for seven people. We were just six. I didn’t have the heart to correct Byron or to point it out to Huey. It was a good thing I had the sense to keep my tongue in my head because it was Byron whom Huey seated in his mother’s place. Finally, the obvious dawned on me. Huey was not alone. His discretion had probably, no most definitely, been for his mother’s sake.

I hid the fact that I was slightly aghast and then chastised myself for being aghast when I saw how seriously Byron took the occasion. He knew it was a serious statement and was not the least bit flippant that evening or ever again. It was Huey who provided the stand-up routine from that moment forward. Byron was all propriety.

Julian and I went back to our house, thanking Byron for another excellent meal and offering Huey our shoulder or our heart if the mood struck at any hour.

In the car I said to Julian, “Did you know that Huey and Byron were a couple?”

“Sure, I did.”

“Well, I surely did not! I never even considered it!”

“Does it bother you?”

“No, of course not. But the deception does. I mean, I’ve been everywhere with Huey and never saw an inkling of anything between them!”

We pulled in my driveway and got out.

“People see what they want, Abigail. Come on, let’s get us a glass of wine and go look at the stars. Maybe we can see Miss Olivia shooting across the sky. By the way, I met a fellow down in Charleston who’s looking for a good lawyer. His wife ran off with his best friend and…”

“Shhh! We can talk about that tomorrow.”

The moon, almost full, hung over the Atlantic, causing it to sparkle like millions of crystals, glittering, floating on the water, all there for anyone to behold. You could almost scoop them by the handful, put them in your pocket, string them tomorrow, make a necklace or a bracelet with mystical powers that made you invincible.

“Where do you think she is, Julian? Miss Olivia, I mean.”

“Right here in our hearts, sweetheart. Just like you’ve always been since I met you years ago. Love never dies. People do, but love doesn’t.”

Hearing those words and being there with Julian was enough for me. Pawleys had transformed me, like it did for most people who went there.

This island was a place where you figured things out, made sense of your life and learned to live with yourself, forgive yourself, all the while humbled by its astonishing power and beauty. You didn’t need jewelry with mystical powers to have that. You just needed some time on Pawleys to find the truth of your own heart and to be grateful again for life.

Dorothea Benton Frank
was born and raised on Sullivan’s Island, South Carolina. She is a nationally recognized volunteer fund-raiser for the arts and education, and an advocate of literacy programs and women’s issues. She resides in the New York area with her husband and two children. Visit her website at www.dotfrank.com.

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