Last Light over Carolina (12 page)

“Like you, we were trapped. Bud climbed up on that ladder and began pounding the ceiling like a man possessed. It couldn’t have been more than minutes before the water reached the second floor. By the time Bud broke through the plaster, we were already knee-deep in water. It just kept rising. But one by one, Bud got all of us into the attic before it reached our heads. Aunt Lucille was feeling poorly and Bud had to carry her all the way up to the attic. Poor thing, she was frantic about her cat. Bud doesn’t even like cats, but he grabbed hold of Aunt Lucille’s tabby and carried it up while it spat and clawed his arm bloody.”

Odelle’s mouth slipped open in a short laugh.

Carolina paused, caught by an image she’d held close throughout the years. The following morning when she’d opened her eyes, gritty with sand, all was still. After hours of the incessant howling of the wind, she was struck by the purity of silence. She felt the damp heaviness of sodden blankets and Lizzy’s arm across her chest as she nestled close in their nest up in the attic. The sun was already bright. Looking up through the hole in the roof, she saw a blue sky. It seemed otherworldly after the long storm. Her body ached from being curled up for so many hours. She stretched her legs, and Bud
stirred beside her. He reached up to mop his face, then turned toward her. His blue eyes, red-rimmed and tired, seemed to drink in the sight of her before he smiled.

“We made it,” he’d said.

“I knew we would,” she replied.

He snorted and said, “I’m glad one of us did.”

She smiled and wanted to tell him that she’d known because she had faith in him, that he would see them through the tempest, but he was already rising and taking stock of the damage. Now Carolina wondered if she ever had gotten around to telling him.

“That was the longest night of our lives,” she told Odelle. “But you’re right. I knew he’d take care of us.”

Odelle’s mouth closed in an introspective smile. Carolina could see in the way her eyes glazed in bitterness that she was comparing the two men. And something more. Carolina swallowed and wondered in that one instant if Odelle knew about what had happened between herself and Lee. Then Odelle’s expression changed and Carolina wondered if she’d only imagined it.

“Odelle, you can’t judge a person by one incident. Everything isn’t always as it seems. We’re not all heroes all the time.”

Odelle didn’t reply, but her cherry-tipped nails strummed the table.

Carolina sensed Odelle’s sadness, maybe even jealousy, and strove to equal things out between them. “In the end, like a lot of other people we know, we lost everything.”

“Everyone suffered in that storm.” Odelle’s lips twisted in
irony. “Everyone except that son-of-a-bitch ex-husband of mine.”

Carolina laughed loudly. “Oh, my God, Odelle, I’ve never heard you talk like that.”

“Well, it feels good. That storm made Lee Edwards a rich man. When else would he have been able to buy that fish house for next to nothing?”

“Be fair. He was simply at the right place at the right time. A lot of good deals were made back then by folks who seized the opportunity. You can’t make him out to be a villain. Frankly, I wish we’d have invested in the fish house when we had the chance.”

Odelle, however, could only see Lee’s faults. “The point remains, while he was making backroom deals, the rest of us were pulling up our sleeves and digging ourselves out of the mud. That terrible tragedy brought out the best—and the worst—in us. And we can’t ever forget how people came from all over to bring us food and water and to help. It was a testament to the kindness of strangers. You know, we should have some kind of commemoration to mark the twenty-year anniversary.”

“Oh, Lord, Odelle. No one wants to go back and remember all that. We’ve got enough problems in the present to deal with.”

“I just thought it’d be nice for us all to come together.”

“We do that during the shrimp festival. But if you want to try to pull something together, you know I won’t rain on your parade.”

“Well, maybe you’re right. I’ve got enough to do organizing the Blessing of the Fleet festival. That’s why I’m here, by the way. Can I sign you up to help?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” She added Carolina’s name to her list. Then she pulled a sheet of paper from her pile and set it on the kitchen table. “This here’s a list of names and phone numbers of people you can call. We want to get a real good turnout. And this,” she added, handing her another sheet, “is a list of possible sponsors. We need to see who wants to contact who.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Listen, I’ve got to scoot. I’ll call you later to talk more about it when we aren’t so busy.” Her face softened as she leaned forward to give Carolina a hug. “Thanks, Caro. I knew I could count on you.”

The hug lasted an extra second, enough for Carolina to know that Odelle appreciated the moment of confidence they’d shared.

“You bet,” Carolina said as they separated. “And it was good to go over all those memories of Hugo. It’s cleansing.”

Odelle pursed her lips. “It is, sort of.” She rose and gathered her purse and papers.

“Oh, wait,” Carolina exclaimed, and she took one of the finished cupcakes from the counter and gave it to Odelle. In some small way, she wanted to thank her for the confidences shared.

“Won’t you be short one for the school? I don’t want to be accused of stealing sweets from a child.”

“I’ve got extra. Go ahead, enjoy. I’m not making homemade cupcakes again anytime soon.”

“Thanks. It looks delicious. I’ll need the boost as I make my rounds.” Odelle wrapped the cupcake in a paper napkin and started out of the kitchen. She paused at the door, her ruby-tipped hand on the molding. “You know,” she began, looking back. She hesitated, as though trying to decide if she should go on.

Carolina looked up as her stomach tensed. “What?”

“We’ve been friends for a long time. I was a bridesmaid at your wedding. Hell, girl, I met Bud practically the same moment you did! So…I feel that gives me the right to say this.” Her dark eyes had lost their sharpness and were filled with earnest concern. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Bud, but things seem a little, well, strained.”

Carolina was stunned. She hadn’t seen this one coming and felt sure her face showed it. She didn’t reply.

“Take it from me,” Odelle said kindly. “Don’t lose what you have.” She leaned forward and said in an urgent whisper, “Fix it.”

Carolina couldn’t begin to explain to Odelle the complexities of her problems with Bud. Even though, like Hugo, one whirlwind series of events had brought devastating damage to their marriage, the storm between them had started years before.

“We aren’t getting divorced,” she said in a flat tone.

“I’m not saying you are. I’m just saying being divorced isn’t
all it’s cracked up to be. I’m not sorry I got divorced,” she hastened to add. “It was the right thing for me. But you and Bud, I don’t know, you have something rare. I saw it—we all did—right from the start. See, that’s the difference between you and me. You married a true man in Bud.” She shrugged. “And I got stuck with Lee.” She blew a kiss. “Gotta go.”

Carolina watched her leave, unable to speak more than a perfunctory good-bye. She shut the door, then turned and leaned against it. The waves of emotion that had been swamping her all day, ever since she woke from that dream, swept over her again. She closed her eyes tight and stood still for several minutes. When she opened them again, she let her gaze travel around the familiar front room of White Gables.

The house wasn’t large. She often thought it was a grand house in miniature. Across the room sat the Victorian blue velvet sofa stuffed with horsehair that was so uncomfortable no one ever sat on it, but that Carolina could never bring herself to get rid of. Beside the small fireplace bordered with the original delft blue tiles was a modern and comfortable upholstered chair in a navy check. In her mind’s eye, she saw Bud sitting in his favorite spot, one leg crossed over the other, a television remote in one hand, a beer in the other. An oriental rug, generations old, warmed the room with its muted colors. Across the hall, a Sheraton dining table scarred with scratches, its pedestal legs chewed by countless puppies over the years, sat under a crystal chandelier.

Today, on this anniversary of the hurricane, she remembered how she and Bud had carried each of these pieces of
furniture out of the sodden rooms into the sunlight. The front porch was in shambles, the roof was gone, and uprooted trees left gaping holes in the waterlogged soil. She’d spent weeks washing acres of pluff mud off any piece of furniture that could be salvaged. The rug hung on the clothesline next to curtains and blankets, the reds, blues, and greens dotting the muddy vista. The original chandelier had been smashed beyond repair.

She sighed as she saw in today’s light the neat and tidy rooms of this once broken and muddied house. Odelle was right. They’d worked it out. They’d saved what they had. She and Bud had worked hard side by side, day after day, month after month, year after year, restoring their home. They’d never lost sight of its original beauty.

Her eyes filled as she brought her hands to her face. How could she have forgotten? Not merely the date on a calendar, but the important, fundamental truth of that storm. In the course of all the fear, uncertainty, and doubt of that storm, she’d maintained her faith in her husband. Amidst all the destruction of a hurricane, that one truth was left shining.

How could she have forgotten that vital truth? Where was her faith in him, in their marriage, in herself?

Her thoughts turned once again to Bud, as they had so often this strange morning. For years, he’d grumbled that this old house was nothing but an albatross. Nonetheless, he’d worked in the mud, long before they took ownership of the house. Bud had restored the broken foundation with his own hands, brick by brick. He’d sweated over the chainsaw, cutting away the tree limbs that had fallen across the porch and lawn. Year
after year since they’d inherited the house in 1990, Bud found some chore that needed doing—maybe a loose plank on the stair, a leaking pipe, a moldy piece of siding—and repaired it without anyone ever asking.

Carolina released a ragged sigh of hope. Surely their marriage was worth, at the very least, an equal effort at restoration?

September 21, 2008, 12:00 p.m.

On board the
Miss Carolina

B
ud avoided glancing
at his injured arm. He wasn’t the queasy type. He could treat the open wounds of his crew at sea and not flinch. Funny how it was different with his own body. But he had to take charge of his own survival.

“If you don’t look, who will?” he demanded of himself.

He turned his head, and small black spots swam again in his eyes. He closed them and took a long breath, steadying himself. Then, gritting his teeth, he lifted his gaze to his injured
hand. The ragged tourniquet was soaked in blood, but only a slow ooze dripped to the deck.

He slumped in relief. Good, good, Bud told himself. He might just make it. He tried to clear his head and focus. He knew the body contained eight to twelve pints of blood. And he was a big guy. With a slow rate of blood loss, he calculated he could last several hours yet. He squinted and peered at the sky. Sailors were supposed to be able to tell time by looking at the sun, to search out when the shadows were shortest. Right now, the sun seemed to be at its highest. That meant it was about noon, give or take a half hour. Pretty soon, someone at Coastal Seafood would notice that his order hadn’t been filled. They’d start asking questions. Maybe Pee Dee would show up at the docks. It wouldn’t be long before somebody figured out he was out here alone and overdue. That’d start them worrying.

It could happen, he thought, gaining heart.

Maybe Doc Beckham will even be able to fix my hand when I get back, he thought. Or he’ll send me to the hospital. There’s got to be some specialist at that big medical center in Charleston. The pain in his arm had dulled to a throbbing. It was probably going numb from loss of blood. He remembered again the warnings he’d read about not keeping the tourniquet on too long, lest the limb die. What the hell?—there wasn’t a chance of saving his hand, really. He would have laughed if it weren’t so tragic. Whatever, as long as he made it back alive.

Of course, he didn’t have medical insurance—any kind of insurance, for that matter. They couldn’t afford it. Bud sighed
heavily, thinking of Carolina’s bad tooth. If he survived, this would put them under for sure.

He’d just have to pay them whatever, whenever he could, the way he always did. If Carolina couldn’t get her old job back teaching, she could clean houses for the tourists at Pawleys Island. It was good, honest work. One thing for damn sure—she’d never go back to work for Lee Edwards.

They’d had tough times before. They’d make it if Doc could sew up the loose ends of his hand. He thought of Woody. He’d lost a foot and was able to run his trawler. He could, too. He
had
to work or he’d lose this boat, and Carolina would lose her house.

He closed his eyes tight in a grimace. Who was he fooling? Things looked bleak.

“Aw, geez, Carolina,” he said wearily. “What are we going to do now?”

He’d promised her better. If not in words, then in the shared dreams they’d forged when they were young. Back when she’d believed in him. Back when he’d believed in her.

April 12, 1990

White Gables

Moving day was usually tough on his back, but this time, Bud only had a few suitcases to carry into White Gables.
Carolina walked from room to room like one in a trance, her eyes glittering. She took in the fresh paint, the pretty new curtains, the family’s beloved antiques cleaned of mud and reupholstered.

When Bud looked around the same rooms, he was more practical. The hundred-plus-year-old house had suffered a lot of damage in the hurricane. Bud inspected window frames, wiring, and foundations, watching for any sign of the dread mildew. He knew that taking care of this house would be a never-ending series of chores and money spent. He also knew how much this classic house in the heart of the old village of McClellanville meant not only to Carolina but also to the Brailsford family.

Carolina began stacking books from a box on the shelves. Her face was radiant and she moved like a young girl again after months of anxiety. When she’d slipped the last book into place, she walked to the center of the room, sniffing the air like a hound on the scent.

“I still smell a little mildew,” she said.

“Honey, this house was underwater,” he replied. “That smell’s going to linger for a while.”

“Well, let’s keep the windows open, then.”

Allison Brailsford walked into the room carrying a tray of coffee and cookies. “Opening the windows, Bud? It’s getting chilly in here.”

Bud looked over his shoulder at his mother-in-law. Even while baking and sweeping floors, the woman looked like she was going to the club. She even ironed her jeans. But she was a trouper, he had to hand it to her. She’d come with Edgar
to help them move in and was a whirlwind. For the past few days, she’d made beds, unpacked linens, cooked meals, done the dishes, and even gone out in the yard to plant flowers. She was okay in his book.

“I got my orders,” he told her with a grin.

“Just for a little while, Mama,” Carolina told her. “The mildew smells mixed with the paint smells are overwhelming. I don’t want Lizzy to get sick.”

Allison stopped in the front hall and lifted her nose. “It’s not so bad. I like the smell of fresh paint.” She set the tray down, and her gaze swept the freshly painted front rooms. The tables were polished and the new chandelier, though not as grand as the original, sparkled in the late-afternoon sun. “Oh, sweetheart, the house looks wonderful, doesn’t it? Who’d have thought after that horrible storm this house could have been put back to rights? It’s better than ever.”

“Thanks to you and Daddy,” Carolina said, coming closer to press her cheek against her mother’s.

Bud yanked on the stubborn window. The paint was sticking.

“We love this old house, too, you know,” Allison said, taking a seat on the blue Victorian sofa. “I only wish Aunt Lucille were here to see this.” Her bright blue eyes threatened to fill at the thought of her favorite aunt. Aunt Lucille had survived Hurricane Hugo but died a few months after. The doctors said it was her heart, and they’d all agreed, but not for the same reason. Everyone believed Aunt Lucille had died of a broken heart, seeing her beloved White Gables and the town of McClellanville so devastated.

“She’s here in spirit,” Carolina said softly. “I can feel her.”

Lizzy skipped past them humming a song with the running lyrics “Moving day, moving day.”

Allison watched her granddaughter move from room to room, her face a picture of maternal adoration. “Look at the child. She’s just so happy to be here!”

“And out of the awful condo in Myrtle Beach. We all are. I hated that place.”

“It’s been a long six months, Carolina, but you’re home now,” her mother said.

The window rattled up the frame.

“Place is looking good!” Edgar Brailsford said as he came down the stairs. He’d cleaned up after painting the trim on the back porch. In his khaki pants and white polo, he looked like a typical banker on holiday. He stepped into the front room and clasped his hands before him, grinning like a man before a feast. “It sure is great to be back in this old house. God, we love it here. So many great memories. Now that you’re living here, we’ll come down more often. Family is all that matters, right?”

Bud grinned but didn’t say anything. He couldn’t get past Edgar’s claim that he’d be coming to visit more often.

Edgar eased himself into one of the newly upholstered armchairs and sat back, crossing his legs and looking around the room like he owned the place. “Can you believe it? We got here in less than four hours. ’Course, with your mother in the car, I had to go slower.”

Allison began pouring coffee. “Your brother and his wife have been like hens, worrying over you ever since that hurricane.
They’ll be so glad to see the pictures.” She handed a cup to Carolina beside her. “Oh, that reminds me. Greg wanted me to ask you if July was okay for them to come down for a visit. The kids are out of school then.”

Carolina looked at Bud for confirmation. He shrugged and lowered himself into the other armchair.

“I guess that’s all right,” she replied. “I mean, we are only just getting settled. I’ll call him.”

“July is months away,” her mother said breezily. “You’ll be settled in by then. We wish we were closer to you, so we just have to come down more often.”

Bud met Carolina’s gaze. Carolina raised her brows as if to say,
What can I do?

Everyone had been served coffee, and Bud was the only one who reached for one of Allison’s chocolate-chip cookies. They were still warm. They were having “tea,” as Allison put it, but there seemed to be some important family topic on the agenda that Bud wasn’t aware of, and it made him apprehensive. They’d all come a long way since that first tense meeting at the Brailsfords’ country club. But Bud still didn’t trust his father-in-law. Something was bubbling in that old badger’s mind, he thought.

“Well,” Edgar began. “Carolina and I talked, and she wanted me to speak with you about a matter that came up recently that concerns all of us.”

Bud swung his head to look at his wife. Carolina had her hands clenched in her lap. “She didn’t tell me about this. We don’t keep a lot of secrets from each other. So my curiosity is piqued.”

“It’s no secret. More a surprise,” Carolina rushed to clarify. “Daddy, let’s not have a preamble. Just tell Bud what you propose.”

Edgar took a small sip of coffee, then set his cup on the table. “I don’t need to tell you the precarious nature of the economy these days, do I, Bud?”

Bud didn’t reply.

“In my day, when an opportunity came my way, I seized it.”

Bud’s eyes narrowed. “Where are you going with this, Edgar?”

“Where I’m
going
, as you put it, is to this point. Lee Edwards is buying the Coastal Seafood Company.”

“Yeah, I know.” Bud’s tone was incredulous. “He’s my best friend. How do
you
know this?” Bud looked at Carolina. She half-smiled and shrugged. “Oh.”

“I know a lot about it,” Edgar answered. “I have friends, connections who keep me apprised. Everyone recognizes the importance of the Coastal Seafood Company to the town and the region. And, as you already know, Mr. Edwards—”

“Lee,” Bud interjected.

Brailsford shrugged. “Lee is putting together an offer to buy it. The timing is excellent, as the place is in ruins and the owner is looking to get out. Any businessman would admit that Edwards’s timing—stepping in to buy the destroyed warehouse from a traumatized seller at a rock-bottom price—is financially brilliant. Now, Lee’s willing to consider a partner in this venture. It’s a large operation, and he could use another investor to help the company meet its projected goals. The man has big plans.”

“I know his plans,” Bud said flatly.

Carolina looked at Bud, hopeful.

“Anyway,” Edgar continued. “We had a good discussion. That young man trusts my judgment and is willing to take my advice. And I agreed to provide the collateral for you. You and Carolina, of course.” He looked around the living room at his family with an expression of magnanimity.

Bud stared back at his father-in-law, incredulous. “That’s a good one, Edgar. I have to admit, I didn’t see that one coming. But I’m pretty sure you know Carolina and I can’t afford to make an investment like that. Especially not now.”

“Yes, well, I do happen to be aware of that. However, if I help out with the procurement of the—”

Bud’s face was implacable. “No.”

“I beg your pardon?” Edgar was not accustomed to being interrupted.

“You heard me. The answer is no.” Bud turned to Carolina, cutting her off with a look before she could speak.

“You’re being unreasonable here,” Brailsford said.

“And you’re being insulting.”

“Insulting? How?”

“By offering to loan me money to buy a business I can’t begin to afford.”

“Bud, be reasonable,” Carolina said. “We’re not going to get this chance again. It’s right in front of us. My father only wants to help us. Consider it my inheritance.”

“Your father paid to renovate your aunt Lucille’s house for us to live in. That was your inheritance.”

Edgar sat back in his chair, mulish. “It’s my own goddamn money. Why don’t you let me decide what I will or won’t give my daughter?”

“Carolina’s my wife.”

“Bud—”

“No. This house is already a stretch for us. Now you want me to invest in Lee’s company? How do we know it won’t go bust?”

“What does it matter?” Brailsford said coolly. “It’s not your money Carolina is investing. It’s hers.”

“Daddy!”

“That’s it,” Bud said, slamming his hands on his knees. He rose to his feet and walked away from the group to stand at the front window.

“Bud…” Carolina said, perched forward in her chair.

“Don’t make a decision you’re going to regret,” Brailsford said in a menacing tone.

“That’s enough, Edgar.” Allison’s voice, though soft, was as firm as iron. A moment of stunned silence followed this declaration. Then she continued in her honeyed voice, “I’m sorry, Bud. We don’t mean to interfere. This is entirely your decision, of course. Yours and Carolina’s. We just want the two of you to be happy. It’s been such a hard time for you both.”

Allison rose gracefully and smoothed her jeans with even strokes. “Well, enough said, I should think. Edgar, won’t you help me in the kitchen? I think that roast is about ready to come out.”

She smiled prettily and turned toward her husband; Bud
couldn’t see the
Get up and get out
look he was sure Edgar was receiving.

Edgar’s face flushed and he rubbed his jaw in consternation. “It’s your decision,” he said in defeat, and followed his wife to the kitchen.

Bud rested his hands on the white wood and looked out the window at the lawn. Six months ago it had been a mess of dead marsh grass, pieces of pier and boats, and junk washed in by the hurricane’s tidal surge. They’d lost just about everything. Their house was demolished and everything in it, and though they were lucky with their boat, it still had suffered some damage. It was a season that had tested him as a father, a husband, a fisherman, and a man. They’d been renting the only place they could afford. But they weren’t the only ones. Nobody in McClellanville hadn’t been hammered by the storm. As much as he hated to admit it, he was grateful to Carolina’s parents for coming through in the pinch.