Kevin gazed unbelievingly at his sister. “And you didn’t?” he asked, his voice betraying his incredulity.
But Marguerite only shook her head. “I—I couldn’t,” she admitted. “I suppose I thought that after mother died I might put it back together again.” She fell silent for a moment, then went on. “But I’m almost fifty, aren’t I? I’m not going to get married, and I’m not going to have a baby, and I’m not crazy. So take the nursery and do what you want with it. It’s time I gave it up completely.”
Kevin swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat. “I—I’m not sure what to say—” he began, but Marguerite held up her hand in protest.
“Don’t say anything. I feel foolish enough as it is. Ruby and Mother understood, of course, and I hope you can too. But it’s over now. I’m not going to get married, and everything is going to change, and I have to change too.” Her eyes met his again, and Kevin thought he saw something strange in them for a moment. It was a quality of fear, or desperation, but almost as soon as it came into her eyes, it was gone.
“What about Mother’s rooms?” he finally asked, his voice low.
Marguerite hesitated only a moment, then nodded. “I’ll take care of it,” she said. “I’ll start this morning.”
Kevin stayed a moment longer, thinking there was something he should say to his sister, some gesture he should make to let her know he understood how much she was giving up, but in the end he could find no words. Saying nothing, he kissed her, then left her alone.
When he was gone, Marguerite stood still for a moment, feeling his kiss on her cheek, then unconsciously brushed it away. Her hip throbbing now, she hobbled to the door and made her way down the hall to her mother’s rooms. She went into the little parlor first, moving slowly through the room, her fingers brushing over the polished mahogany of the furniture, pausing for a moment at a large rosewood music box which she could still remember from her childhood. How she had loved to tip its lid open and watch the slowly turning metal disk as the soft melody resonated off the sounding board. She almost opened it now, but then turned quickly away, her eyes blurring with tears. She moved on, then, into the bedroom, automatically making minor adjustments to the clutter on the dresser top, putting things as her mother had liked them. At last she found herself in Helena’s dressing room, standing in front of one of the large closets, her eyes wandering over the long row of dresses—long out of fashion—that her mother had always refused to dispose of.
Suddenly, not certain what she was doing or why, she reached out and took one of the dresses off the hanger.
She remembered the dress well. It had been one of her mother’s favorites—a party dress, one her mother had worn when Marguerite was only a little girl. Made of silk, it was an emerald green and had been cut on the bias, so it had clung to Helena’s body in voluptuous folds, falling almost to the floor.
Holding it to her body, Marguerite turned to face the mirror. The dress draped against her, she stared at her own image.
She could see the resemblance, even after nearly half a century. In the mirror was a woman who looked now very much as her mother had looked then.
Taking off her dressing gown, Marguerite slipped the dress over her head.
Jeff stood in the corridor, peering through the slightly open door to his grandmother’s room in rapt fascination, He wasn’t sure how long he’d been watching. In fact, he hadn’t really started out to watch at all. He’d been headed downstairs, on his way to meet Toby Martin, when he noticed that the door to his grandmother’s room was ajar and had come to see why.
And there was Aunt Marguerite, standing in front of the mirror, holding an old-fashioned dress up and staring at herself. Then, as he watched, she’d put it on, moving slowly as she stared into the mirror. Finally, unaware of him standing just outside the door, she went to his grandmother’s dressing table and started combing her hair, piling it up on top of her head and shoving it full of large hairpins.
It made her look strange, and Jeff was beginning to feel he shouldn’t be watching at all when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
He jumped violently, about to yelp in surprise, when Ruby’s hand clamped over his mouth and she spun him around to face her.
“What are you doin’ up here?” Ruby demanded, her voice low, but nonetheless clear.
“N-Nothing!” Jeff said as the old woman’s hand fell away from his mouth. “I wasn’t doing anything. I was just—”
“Just spying on your auntie,” Ruby finished for him, her voice a severe whisper. “Didn’t your mommy ever teach you not to do things like that?”
Jeff tried to twist out of her grip. “I wasn’t,” he protested. “I just saw something in here and came to see what it was.”
Ruby regarded the boy carefully for a moment, then released his shoulder from her grasp. “All right,” she said. “But you run along downstairs and mind your own business.”
A vast surge of relief flowed through Jeff as he realized he was going to face no punishment. He scurried along the hall, then disappeared down the stairs.
But Ruby remained where she was, her eyes glued to Marguerite as the other woman sat in front of the mirror, her hands flying as she arranged her hair in imitation of the style that had been Helena’s favorite so many years ago.
Kevin pushed his chair back from the kitchen table, took his plate to the sink and scraped the remains into the strainer, then rinsed the plate before putting it into the big commercial dishwasher that had been installed the day before, and which Ruby had been complaining about ever since. “Don’t see why we need it,” she’d grumbled even as the plumber had been hooking it up. “Plenty of people around here wouldn’t mind washing dishes, if they got paid for it.” Now, as Kevin dropped his plate into the gleaming stainless steel machine, she pointedly looked the other way.
“I have to go into town to see Sam,” Kevin spoke. “Anyone want a ride?”
Jeff shook his head. “Me and Toby are gonna work on the fort.”
“ ‘Toby and I,’ ” Kevin corrected automatically. “Julie?”
“Some of the kids are coming out to the beach,” she said. “Jenny, and Kerry, and I don’t know who else.”
“Our beach?” Marguerite asked, her brows arching. Julie, her own eyes suddenly worried, turned to her aunt.
“Isn’t it all right?” she asked. “I mean, after Grandmother died you said—”
“Of course,” Marguerite broke in. “I didn’t mean it that way. You know your friends are welcome. It’s just that—” She hesitated, her eyes going to Kevin as if for help, but when he didn’t seem to sense what she was getting at, she turned back to Julie. “Well, I just wondered if you should be seeing Kerry again, so soon after …” She couldn’t quite bring herself to finish her thought, and her voice trailed off, but Kevin suddenly understood.
“I think it would be good for her,” he decided. “We all need to keep busy, and see people, and if Julie can have a good time with her friends, she certainly ought to.”
“But so soon …” Marguerite repeated, and now Julie looked pleadingly to her father.
“It’s not too soon,” Kevin told his sister. “Things aren’t the way they used to be, and life goes on.” He smiled warmly at his daughter. “You have a good time,” he told her. “And if you want to ask Kerry to stay for dinner, do. It would be good for all of us to have some company for a change.”
“Can I ask Toby?” Jeff asked, his voice eager, and Kevin actually found himself laughing for the first time since Anne had died.
“You bet,” he replied. “Ask anyone you want.” He glanced at his watch then, and started toward the door. “If I don’t get out of here, I’m going to be late.” But Marguerite stopped him before he could leave.
“Kevin, I—well, I’ve been thinking. About Mother’s rooms. I know what I said this morning, but I’ve changed my mind.”
Kevin’s eyes clouded. “Changed your mind? But I thought we’d agreed. Marguerite, I need the rooms. I??
?”
“I know you need the rooms,” Marguerite interrupted. “But I can’t let you have Mother’s. Not yet. I … well, I just can’t.” She hesitated briefly, then went on. “I’ve decided to move into Mother’s rooms myself, Kevin. You can have my room, and the nursery. With the other rooms, that will make five. Surely that’s enough for now, isn’t it?”
Kevin looked sharply at his sister. “You don’t have to give up your room. Not yet, anyway. I thought we’d decided—”
“But I want to give it up,” Marguerite insisted. “I’ll just move into Mother’s rooms for a while. It’ll give me time to go through her things and decide what to do with them. Then, by the time the third floor’s ready, I’ll be ready too. It’ll work out fine. Really it will!”
Kevin thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “If it’s really what you want,” he agreed. Then something else occurred to him. “What about the chair lift?” he asked. “Is there any reason not to get rid of it? It’s an eyesore, and that generator Mother had installed in the closet could go downstairs to run the furnace if the electricity goes out.”
Marguerite hesitated a moment, then shrugged. “I—I guess it doesn’t matter,” she said at last. “Do whatever you want.”
Then Kevin was gone, and a moment later Julie, too, left the kitchen, heading upstairs to get ready for her afternoon at the beach.
Jeff stuffed the last of his sandwich into his mouth, then slid off his chair and started toward the back door, but before he could even open it, Marguerite spoke.
“Where do you think you’re going, young man?” she asked.
The cold sharpness in her voice made Jeff freeze in his tracks and slowly turn around. “Ou-Outside,” he stammered. “Toby’s meeting me at our fort.”
“Is he?” Marguerite asked. “Well, I’m afraid he’s going to have to wait. You have some work to do, don’t you?”
Jeff stared blankly at his aunt. “What?” he asked.
“You can clear off this table, and help Ruby with the dishes.”
Jeff blinked. What was she talking about? He never did the lunch dishes. He and Julie helped with the dinner dishes, but Ruby always did the lunch dishes herself.
“It’s all right,” he heard Ruby saying. “Let the boy go, Miss Marguerite. There’s not much of a mess, and I can—”
“No!” Marguerite snapped, her eyes never leaving Jeff. “It’s time he learned to do a few things around here. He’s already spoiled, and I don’t see—”
Jeff’s temper suddenly snapped, and he glared angrily at his aunt. “I’m not spoiled!” he yelled. “And you’re not my mother, and you can’t tell me what to do!”
Marguerite rose to her feet, her own eyes flashing. “How dare you speak to me like that?” she demanded. “How dare you?” She took a step toward Jeff, but he backed away.
“Don’t you come near me!” he yelled. “You’re crazy! That’s what you are. I saw you this morning, and you’re crazy!” Then he pushed his way through the screen door and fled down the back-porch steps, running down the hill until he disappeared into the thick stand of moss-covered pines.
When he was gone, Marguerite stayed where she was for a moment, then turned and limped stiffly toward the butler’s pantry and the rest of the house beyond.
Ruby, her eyes clouded with worry, watched her go, but said nothing.
Maybe I’m wrong, she told herself as she began clearing up the lunch dishes and loading them, without thinking, into the dishwasher. Maybe it’s nothing at all. Maybe she’s just on edge.
And yet, as she went about her chores, she knew she wasn’t wrong, and that Marguerite wasn’t simply on edge. No, it was more than that.
Perhaps a lot more.
Julie lay on the sand, Kerry sprawled out beside her. It was a quiet day, for all the kids gathered on the beach were friends of Mary-Beth Fletcher’s, and as they had gathered on the island, each of them had wondered what might really have happened to her. But none of them had felt much like talking about it, and in the end they had decided not to talk about Mary-Beth and to try to have a good time.
The sun beat down on Julie, but instead of making her feel weak, it felt good against her skin. She could almost feel her tan deepening beneath the light coat of coconut oil she’d smeared on an hour ago. Around her she could hear quietly laughing voices, and a little earlier she had even caught herself laughing as Kerry plunged for a Frisbee somebody had thrown, missed, and dropped face first into the sand. Aware of someone kneeling down next to her, she opened her eyes, squinting up at Jennifer Mayhew.
“I love this beach,” Jenny shouted happily. “It’s clean, and it’s wide, and there’s nobody here!”
Julie giggled. “Well, we better enjoy it while we can, ‘cause I heard Dad talking to Mr. Waterman the other day. They were talking about a golf course and condominiums and all kinds of things.”
Kerry sat up, his brows furrowing thoughtfully. “Does your dad really think it’ll work?” he asked, with concern. “My dad says he can’t imagine why anybody would want to come out here. I mean, all it is is a bunch of flats.”
Julie shrugged. “What’s Hilton Head like? It was the same thing. And if Dad says it’s going to work, then it’s going to work.” She grinned at Kerry. “Besides, you grew up here—everybody hates where they grew up. Or at least they do if they’ve got any imagination. But look at this beach. Jenny’s right—it’s great! And when we get done with the house, it’s going to look just like it used to, only better.” She giggled. “Maybe we could even restore the old slave quarters and turn them into rooms.”
Kerry looked shocked for a second, then realized she was only kidding. “Well, I hope it works,” he said. “And so does everybody else,” he added, scrambling to his feet and brushing the sand off his chest and legs. “At least your dad’s trying to do something with this place. Everybody thought your grandmother just didn’t care.”
Julie’s smile faded away. “I don’t think she did,” she said. “I think she wanted everything to stay the way it was, and never realized that everything had changed anyway. She even treated Ruby like she was still a slave,” she added, her eyes rolling scornfully. “I don’t even see why Ruby stayed around.”
Kerry grinned mischievously. “Same reason,” he teased. “She just doesn’t know she’s not still a slave.”
“That’s terrible,” Julie shouted, slinging a handful of sand at Kerry, then jumping up to chase him down the beach. “If I thought you meant it, I’d never speak to you again.”
“And if I had meant it, you shouldn’t ever speak to me again,” Kerry replied, letting Julie catch up with him. “Come on. Let’s take a swim. And this time, watch out for the waves. I don’t want to have your aunt mad at me again.”
They splashed through the water, diving into the gentle breakers that were washing up onto the beach, then began swimming out past the surf line. Soon they were in gently swelling water, and if Julie put her feet down, she could just touch the bottom, feeling the now-familiar grass brushing against her legs. She floated on her back for a while, closing her eyes against the sun, then shrieked as Kerry sneaked up on her, ducking her beneath the surface. She came up spluttering, and spotted him swimming away from her. Kicking hard, she chased after him and had almost caught up with him when she felt something bump against her leg.
She let out a shout, more from surprise than anything else, and Kerry instantly stopped swimming and turned back.
“What is it?” he called.
“I don’t know!” Julie shouted back. “Something just bumped into me. Like a fish or something!”
“I bet it was a turtle,” Kerry told her. “They come in to feed on the grass, and they lay their eggs on the beach. If it bumps into you again, try to grab it.”
“Grab it?” Julie exclaimed. “Are you nuts? What if it bit me?”
Now Kerry was laughing. “They don’t bite. They just try to swim away, and if you lift them out of the water, they keep on flapping their leg
s. They’re funny!”
Julie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “If you’re lying to me—” she began, but before she could finish, she felt the light bump again. Without thinking it through, she reached down into the water and felt for whatever had hit her.
Her hands closed on an object, firm, but not quite hard. She frowned while trying to bring it to the surface, but for a moment it stuck. Then it gave way and came up, breaking the surface.
It was not a sea turtle, but Julie knew immediately what it was.
It was Mary-Beth Fletcher.
Her face was bloated, and much of the flesh had long since been torn away by feeding sea creatures.
What was left of her hair was a tangled mass which seemed to wrap itself around Julie’s hands, as if seeking to grasp onto her.
Both her eyes were gone, and the empty sockets stared vacantly at Julie. Even as she watched, a worm wriggled out of the depths of Mary-Beth’s skull, then fell into the water.
Screaming, Julie tried to hurl the corpse away, but the hair was twisted around her fingers and she couldn’t shake her hands loose. Then, as her stomach began to churn and her screams grew into an hysterical wailing, Kerry was beside her, tearing at the tangled hair that trapped her hands, pushing wildly—almost futilely—at Mary-Beth’s hideous remains as they bobbed grotesquely in the calmness of the summer sea.
Julie never knew exactly how she got to shore.
CHAPTER 14
The small sitting room adjoining Helena’s bedroom gleamed softly in the diffused light that poured through the sheers over the windows, and Marguerite smiled softly as she surveyed her work. Every piece of furniture had been polished to perfection, the last of the accumulation of dust wiped away. She’d done her best to cover the most worn areas of the Victorian sofa with an assortment of the shawls her mother had loved so much, but had been unable to do anything about the peeling wallpaper. Perhaps, if she looked hard enough, she could find the same pattern somewhere in one of the decorating shops in Charleston. But still, for the first time in years the room looked exactly as she remembered it from the days of her childhood.