Hatteras Girl (Heart of Carolina Book #3) (27 page)
Minutes after we pull in to the driveway, Buck arrives. He’s still in his Grille shirt. The sun hits his face and I think how handsome he is.
We all enter the duplex and find room to sit amongst Zane’s toys.
Minnie looks at Buck as I imagine the worst. He’s going to tell me he’s moving to California. Or that he’s in love and getting married at Second Methodist. I gulp and think it’s a good thing I bought a big box of tissues the other day.
Buck shifts his feet and won’t look me in the eye. I feel discomfort in his gestures and in the air around the living room. I want to blurt, “Hey, let’s all go have dinner at that new Chinese place in Nags Head.” But we’ve all just driven from Nags Head to gather here, in my duplex.
Minnie runs her tongue over her lips and after drawing a deep breath says, “Buck knows something about the Bailey House.”
The ceiling fan shakes
like an old woman’s hand.
Buck clears his throat.
Dear God,
I silently pray,
you know I’m a wimp. I can only handle so much. I’m not strong like Minnie. Don’t let anything hurt her anymore. She’s been through enough.
Buck’s eyes catch mine from across the room where he sits on a dining room chair. He makes no attempt to smile.
My fingers knot into a ball.
“This is about Davis,” he begins.
Minnie nods from where she’s seated on the armchair.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Buck clears his throat again. “I don’t know how much you already know, Jackie, but Minnie thinks you need to know everything.”
I swallow as my skin feels like pins are scratching its surface.
“Davis is the Baileys’ grandson. He was given full ownership of the Bailey House when his grandparents got too old to take care of it.”
“I know that,” I say.
Looking at me, Buck says, “Years ago he had a buyer for the place.”
Minnie nods when Buck pauses.
“Well . . .” He draws a deep breath. There are lines in his brow, something I’ve not seen before. “I was working with my dad then. We were working on the Bailey House. A couple from Michigan was all ready to buy it, but they wanted the upstairs bathrooms remodeled. As my dad and I did the work, we discovered a lot more needed to be done.”
“A lot more? Like what?”
“For one, there was water damage that showed up in the ceilings and walls. The drywall was crumbling both in one of the upstairs bathrooms and in the smallest downstairs bathroom. Rotting, actually.”
“So?”
“Dad and I told Davis the problems we found and said that we’d fix them. Davis refused.”
“What do you mean refused?” My voice is louder than I like it to be.
“He said the couple wanted new bathrooms and that was what Dad and I were contracted to repair. Nothing more.”
Minnie holds on to her stern look as Buck continues.
“That house has structural issues. What it needs is for these to be repaired, not just plastering over them like Davis wanted us to do.”
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“Dad and I got into an argument and that’s why we don’t work together anymore.”
For a moment we are all silent.
Buck says, “Davis didn’t want us to let the word out that the Bailey House needed thousands of dollars worth of repair. He basically told us to fix what he’d asked us to fix and no more. And when I said that he needed to repair pipes and drywall due to leaks throughout the place, he said that we were not to do that and not to tell anyone about it.”
“Why?” My mind spins. I look to Minnie and then at Buck. “Why was he trying to cover it up?”
“He knew that I was adamant that the place be properly restored; anything less wouldn’t be up to code. But Davis didn’t want to spend the money.”
I see the car he drives and the price of the meals he orders at restaurants. I never thought he was cheap.
Buck looks at Minnie and then at me. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that the railing is missing. With seven steps leading up to the house, there needs to be a railing.”
I’d forgotten about that railing that led up to the house. As kids, we slid down the wooden banister—when Ogden wasn’t looking. “What happened to it?”
“I think the railing was probably destroyed in the last hurricane. Davis hasn’t bothered to replace it, even though the house doesn’t meet code without it.”
My hands are clenched as disbelief jabs at my mind.
“Davis threatened me if Dad and I told on him.” Buck’s voice is hard, as though he has to force the words out. “He said he’d make life unbearable for us. He has a lot of clout in the area. He could have ruined my dad’s business.”
I feel a dull pain pulsating in my temples.
“Dad said to let it go and just repair what Davis wanted us to. I said that buyers needed to know of the damage the house had. Dad didn’t agree, and I said I couldn’t do it.”
“Do what?” I ask.
“I couldn’t work for a guy who lied and ignored safety issues.”
I feel my muscles grow taut, as if I want to hit something. “Davis told me that the bathrooms were remodeled when his grandparents owned the place, just years before they left for Ohio to retire.”
“No.” Buck shakes his head. “Dad did those.”
I think of the new toilets, sinks, mirrors, and floors in each of the upstairs bathrooms. They looked nice. “He did a good job.”
“Dad does good work. But I don’t see how he let Davis convince him that it was okay not to do it right.”
“He wasn’t really covering up, was he? I mean, your dad just did what Davis wanted and contracted him to do. It wasn’t his responsibility to fix the whole place. He was only the contractor.”
Buck shifts in his chair. “I saw it differently then. Over the years, I’ve tried to see it Dad’s way. Dad and I don’t talk about it nowadays. I thought I was done with having to worry about the Bailey Place.” His expression softens. “Then you came along, determined to open it again.” After a pause, he adds, “I think his wife wanted him to sell the place, but he wouldn’t.”
“Whose wife?”
“Davis was married.”
“He was?” Wouldn’t he have told me something like that? I look to Minnie, who seems just as confused as I am.
“On a pontoon boat.”
Right as the words come from his mouth, I hear another voice, the one that repeatedly said each time we drove over the inlet bridge, “He got married on a pontoon boat.” Irvy did know more than I gave her credit for.
“Yeah, about seven years ago. He met her in Ohio. They were married here in the Sound on this huge pontoon. They divorced after a year or so.”
“And you knew?”
Minnie looks shocked to hear me raise my voice.
“Sure, lots of people knew. Your relatives probably knew.”
I realize then that I haven’t been very open with my family about Davis. I let the frustration wipe its ugly hand over me and then say, “I wish you’d told me.”
“Hatteras, I didn’t want to talk about Davis with you if I could help it.”
“But you could have said something.”
“I told you to get the place inspected before signing, remember? I hoped that would have then led you to see how much work the place needs.” In a softer tone he adds, “Besides, Davis likes coming to the Grille. He’s been a regular since way before I began working there. Blake thrives on his business and the business of all his clients.”
“I would have chewed him to bits if I had been you,” I say hotly.
“And you were dating him. I didn’t want to be negative about him.”
“If you dated someone deceitful, I would tell you.”
Buck seems to think about this. “Well, that’s my fault. I guess I’m not good with confrontation.” He rubs his chin, looks down, and then up at me again. “Obviously I stink at these kinds of things.”
“But you are telling Jackie now,” says Minnie, trying to smooth things over.
Buck lets his eyes hold mine. “I hope it’s not too late.”
Before he leaves, he hugs Minnie.
“Thanks, Buck,” she says and gently pats his arm.
Then he turns to me.
There is a second when I’m uncertain of what he’s going to say or do, but when he wraps his arms around my waist, the uncertainty dissipates as the ease of how well we fit together surprises me.
His face is only inches from mine. “I didn’t want to have to tell you all this,” he says. “I guess part of me assumed that Davis would confess the truth, since you two were dating.”
I wonder if anyone has ever felt more foolish than I do right now. Davis’s face appears in my mind. I lower my gaze, squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to shoo it away like a fly at a picnic. I lift my face to Buck. “Please be more honest with me from now on.”
His eyes are solemn and distant. He lets go and moves away from me.
Minnie says, “Well . . .”
Buck and I stand silently as she climbs the stairs with her phone. Within seconds she’s made a call to Ropey, telling him he can bring Zane home now.
When Buck exits the duplex, I stare out at the driveway from the living room window, listening to the longing of my heart. Buck’s Jeep pulls out and is gone. A voice inside my heart reminds me that he’s proven once again that he’s a good man—honest, sincere, and moral.
When I turn from the window, I’m gripped by another emotion. This one is not silent. I kick a plastic ball Zane has left under the coffee table. The sphere hits the wall and bounces back at me with a force that causes me to kick the toy again.
I want to head over to Davis’s house and force him to admit to everything. Then I realize with a jolt that I don’t know where he lives. He’s never invited me to his house, nor has he taken me to Arlington, as he promised he would.
I’ve never even had a ride on his pontoon boat.
I think decks are built
for contemplation. I bet many politicians and judges have made decisions after being on a wooden structure, suspended above whatever lies beneath. I stand on our deck, looking at the rosebush in the dirt below. A couple minutes ago I noticed my neighbor Mrs. Appleton watching me with a pair of binoculars.
Minnie joins me under a spattering of stars accompanied by a moon that looks like a polished bowling ball. She’s put on a sweatshirt and asks if I’d like one, too. “Getting chilly.” When I don’t comment, she asks, “You okay?”
“I will be.” I feel like the ache in my heart has spread throughout my whole body, even my fingertips.
Minnie stifles a yawn and begins to rub my shoulders, sort of like I massage hers sometimes. “You know, I never liked Davis.”
“I know.”
“He just seemed . . . well, he was too busy all the time, you know?”
She’s right; his phone did seem to keep him occupied. He also was too prideful, evasive, and interrupted when I talked, but I fell for him despite those things. “I know you didn’t care that much for him. I thought it was because you might be jealous.”
She sighs and lets go of my shoulders. Then she leaves me alone with a darkness that hangs heavy over my bones.
I think of our kisses, our embraces, of the meals we shared, of the conversations. These all dance around my mind until I see Vanessa’s exquisite face. But that sight isn’t what makes my mouth taste the bile from my stomach. My jealousy about Davis and Vanessa isn’t even a blotch on my skin anymore compared to my anger toward Davis alone.
How could I have been so quick to fall for this handsome businessman who has no integrity? My parents would be appalled to know that I trusted someone so deceitful. I picture them shaking their heads and muttering, “We raised her to be smarter than this. Where did we go wrong?” Mom might even consider taking the bear chair out of the attic and giving me a timeout. Even Lona’s characters in her mysteries learn not to love men for the wrong reasons. Have I been so blind because of the Bailey House? I’ve idealized the house, and I’ve idealized Davis. I expected perfection from the beloved Baileys’ grandson.
Desiring sleep, I head inside and try to find a comfortable position on my bed. First, I try lying on my side, but the mattress feels lumpy, so I shift to my back.
When my mother can’t sleep, she pounds rice into tiny balls and fills them with sweetened red bean paste. She says that in her village of Damyang-gun, she was the queen of making sticky rice balls or, as they are known in her language,
gyungdan
. Growing up, I knew she’d heard some disturbing family news from Korea when I found her in the kitchen turning rice into clumps on a floured cutting board, forcing them into shapes she could control. The outcome was always a treat for us—delicate circles with bean paste sweetened with cinnamon and coated on the outside with toasted and ground black sesame seeds or a dusting of sweet mugwort powder.
Sadly, I have no idea how to make rice balls. Maybe I will ask Mom to teach me and then serve them at the Bailey House.
If it ever opens.
At midnight, there are noises in the bathroom. Zane mumbles, bumps into something, and lets out a murmur.
Entering the bathroom, I see him by the sink. “You okay, Zane?”
His face is solemn. “I lost Popacorn.”
“Did you look under your bed?” Suddenly it hits me that a dark room and an even darker space under a bed is not a happy place for a kid. I enter his room. “I’ll help you find him.”
Getting on my knees, I look under the bed. All I find is a lonely sock. I then scan the floor. Finally, I search the closet. There sits the stuffed squirrel, as if he wasn’t hiding at all but that we just weren’t looking in the right place. I pull out the fuzzy creature and hand him to Zane. “Why is he there?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the trucks wanted him to be there. They get lonely in the closet.”
“I see.”
He kisses his stuffed animal. Then, “Jackie?”
“Yes?”
He whispers, “I think I’m okay now.”
I guess he wants me to leave. Funny how I wouldn’t mind staying by his bedside for a little while longer.
I pull the downy comforter up to his chin. His eyes are closed before I leave his room.
The duplex is silent, but outside I hear a barking dog and the echo of a foghorn. I see Buck’s smile, hear his laughter, and want to feel his hand holding mine.
In my own bed again, I count my breaths, and then, closing my eyes, picture a sun-baked seashore of bright shells and attempt to count them. I flip to my back, then my stomach. I wonder if Cassidy counts calories when she can’t sleep, and if that helps any.