Porch Lights (15 page)

“And he knew what I was thinking before I even said it. And he could read Mom’s mind too.”

“That’s because he loved you and your momma so very much, Charlie. His mind was perfectly in tune with y’all’s.” Big tears flooded his face. I reached up my sleeve and produced a tissue. I held it over his nose and said, “Blow!”

Charlie blew so loudly that he honked like a goose.

“Glory be!” I said.

He laughed then, looked up at me with those impossible eyes of his, and said, “I just miss him, you know?”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.”

I paid the bill and bought him a T-shirt with the likeness of Poe on the front. Charlie was thrilled. On the way out of the restaurant we spotted the family from Greenville.

“Hey! Y’all going to the beach later?” Charlie said. “I got the T-shirt!” He waved it in the air.

“Oh, great,” their father said, “now I get to buy three!”

“See you later at Twenty-six!” they said in a chorus.

As soon as we left the restaurant and were back on the beach he stopped, pulled off the T-shirt he was wearing, and pulled the new one over his head.

“How do I look?” he said.

“Don’t you want me to wash it first?”

“Wash it? What for?”

“Oh, never mind. Let’s get moving. It’s already two o’clock. What do you think you might like for dinner? Do you still like fried flounder?”

“Love it! Can you still make hush puppies?”

“I imagine I can!”

We walked together but at a distance from each other. Charlie was too old to hold hands, and even if he’d wanted to there was a certain self-awareness about him that was surprising for his age yet would have prevented him from doing anything that smacked of
babyish
. I’d never raised a boy, and perhaps that was normal. He had mentioned again that he felt like Jackie treated him like a baby. Pulling away was part of growing up. That was true enough. At least he wasn’t too old to be tucked in at night or too old to be read to by his grandmother. That was welcome evidence that his childhood still existed.

I watched as he stopped now and then to examine something that had washed ashore. He’d lift a specimen from the sand, give it a hard look, and if it was broken he’d hurl it high into the air, over the dunes. If it was worthy of his growing collection of found artifacts, he would bring it to me to put in the bag.

“Is this a conch shell?” he asked.

“Actually, it’s a whelk. But it’s a very nice one. Should we bring it home?”

“Definitely! What kind of a whelk is it?”

He thought he had me on that one.

“Well, it’s a knobbed whelk. The Latin name is
Busycon carica
. And you can tell it’s a knobbed whelk by its coloration but also by the nine little knobs on the shoulder of its body whorl. See? Count them.”

He touched each one with the tip of his finger and counted. “Yup. There’re nine all right.”

“So how do you like them apples? Does your Glam-ma continue to dazzle her perfect grandson?”

“Uh, yeah! Wow! Did you like study shells or something?”

“I guess so. I mean, not in school but on my own. I like to know these things.”

“Me too,” he said.

“I’ll give you a shell guide when we get home,” I said.

“Cool,” he said and ran off to see what else he could find.

I couldn’t get his tears out of my mind. Of course he missed his father. What he didn’t know was that he always would and that in all those important moments that were yet to come to pass in his life, there would be a searing wound. Over time the wound would grow smaller, but it would never disappear. Jimmy would never see Charlie graduate, become an adult, and marry. Jimmy would never know Charlie’s children. He would never be there to herald Charlie’s successes or to offer comfort or advice when it was needed. No, Jimmy was gone and Charlie had been robbed. People believed, and I had also been brought up to believe, that there was a Heaven and someday we would be reunited with our loved ones. Well, that’s nice, but death tears a hole in your life and losing someone you love is horrible. Especially for a child.

I hoped then that Jackie would marry again. Although she was understandably in the worst frame of mind possible to even slightly entertain the notion. I got
that
message almost every time we spoke. Lord, she was so restless and churlish, but I imagine she just couldn’t help herself. The entire life that she and Jimmy had built had just imploded. She needed a lot of time to adjust. Maybe she had a bit of post-traumatic stress disorder. That made sense.

I hoped she was having a good visit with Buster up in Murrells Inlet. He would help her heal. He was really a precious old devil when he wanted to be, and God knew, he had a sweet spot for his daughter. Wasn’t he the one she’d called crying? This was not the time for stories about me and Mr. Sea Hunt; it was about getting Jackie back on solid emotional ground. Hopefully, Buster would sit her down and get her to talk. She needed to unburden herself of her grief and every single other thing she was worried about. Maybe the reason she wasn’t telling me much was that she didn’t want me to see her as weak.

When I reached the house, Charlie had already gone inside, having sprinted the last hundred yards. It must have been a thousand degrees then, because if even the slightest amount of blazing hot white sand slipped into my sneaker, it burned. I stayed alive (slight exaggeration) by thinking of a cool shower and a nice big glass of iced water.

I pushed open the screen door. Charlie was on his knees on the porch, hooking the dogs up to their leashes, and the telephone was ringing inside the house.

“Gotta take them out for a bathroom break,” he said.

“Right! I’ll get it,” I said.

Be still, my heart, it was Dr. Steven Plofker on the caller ID.

“Hello?” I said as calmly as I possibly could.

“Hi! Annie? It’s Steve. Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“Oh, heavens, no! What’s going on?”

“Well, Mike Veeck, one of my patients who’s covered in poison ivy welts and can’t tolerate the sun for a few days, just gave me two tickets to the RiverDogs game for this afternoon. He’s an owner of the team. And I thought, Why not? I don’t have any appointments after four. And I wondered if Charlie might like to go with me? He told me how much he loves baseball. Should I ask Jackie?”

“Sure, but Jackie’s up in Murrells Inlet with her father, the man formerly known as The Husband. What time does the game start?”

“Let me see here. Um, it looks like it starts at five. And according to my Mike, one of his other partners, Bill Murray, is supposed to be at this game.”

“Really! Well, I’m sure Charlie would love to go!”

“Great! Tell him to be ready at four thirty. I’ll pick him up.”

“That’s awfully sweet of you, Steve.”

“Hey, I’m a sweet guy, and besides, what fun is a ball game without a kid?”

“You’re right! I’ll make sure he’s ready. And Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for thinking of Charlie.”

“Sure. See you soon.”

I went out to the front porch and once again filled my eyes with a beautiful scene of Charlie at play with Steve’s dogs. I wished then, as I had secretly wished so many times since their arrival, that Jackie and Charlie would stay forever. Shouldn’t families be near each other? New York had had its chance with them, and I deeply believed I was entitled to a turn. Jackie needed me, didn’t she? And wasn’t Charlie just blooming? In no time at all, he was turning as brown as a berry, not that I’d ever eat a brown berry but I’m pretty sure that’s how the saying goes. Anyway, why wouldn’t you want to surround yourself with people who loved you?

He was heading back toward the house. I couldn’t wait to tell him the news. “Hey! Guess what?” I held the screen door open for him to come inside.

“What?”

“You’re going to a RiverDogs baseball game with Dr. Steve!”

“I am? When?”

“In about two hours. And guess what else?”

“What?”

“Bill Murray is going to be there! You do know who Bill Murray is, don’t you?”

“Duh!
Ghostbusters, SNL,
and
Groundhog Day
Bill Murray?”

“The one and only.”

“What’s he doing there?”

“Well, apparently he has some money invested in the team.”

“Do you think I could get his autograph?”

I could almost see Charlie’s heart pounding against the face of Edgar Allan Poe on his shirt.

“Well, I don’t know, but I’m sure if you asked Dr. Steve he might be able to figure that out. And Mr. Murray is supposed to be a prince of a guy. He’s got kids.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because, Little Mr. Inquisitive, he used to live down the island.”

“
What?
Are you serious?”

“I never lie! Now, go get a shower.”

“Oh, my Lord!” I like to think the young one exclaimed in a prayer of Thanksgiving. “This is the coolest vacation ever!”

Steve was prompt, Charlie was ready, and the dogs were happy to see Steve.

“Y’all are so spoiled!” he told his dogs.

“They’re delightful!” I lied.

“Sorry about reading ‘The Gold-Bug’ together, Glam. We can start tomorrow?” Charlie said as he pushed his hair back from his face. “I got a little pad of paper, just in case, you know, in case we see him.”

“See who?” Steve asked.

“Bill Murray,” I said.

“Well, we’ll likely see him if he’s there because we’re sitting in the owners’ box.”

“I’m gonna faint,” Charlie said.

“Don’t faint,” Steve said. “So you’re reading ‘The Gold-Bug’? That’s a tough one.”

“That’s why we are going to read it together,” I said.

“Use my e-reader,” Steve said. “It’s probably public domain. You can download it in, like, two seconds and when you don’t know the meaning of a word you just highlight it and it gives a definition. Couldn’t be easier to read old books and classic works. I’ll leave it on the table for you tomorrow morning. How’s that?”

“Awesome!”

“We’d better get going, or we’ll miss the opening pitch!”

“We’re outta here!” Charlie exclaimed. He opened the screen door and hung on it, waiting for Steve.

“What time do you think y’all will get home?” I said.

“Oh, probably by dark. Here’s my cell number if you need us.”

Steve reached into his wallet and handed me his card.

I started getting nervous then. What if Charlie got lost in the crowd?

“Oh, no worries! Y’all just go have fun! Behave yourself, young man! And make sure you don’t lose sight of Steve for one minute. You know how crazy crowds can get.”

“Don’t worry, Annie. I’ll keep an eye on him the whole time. Should I take Stella and Stanley home?”

“Oh, no. They’re so comfortable here. And they’re good company.”

They left and I thought, Oh, hells bells, Jackie is going to come home and kill me dead. And she just about did. She came waltzing in around seven thirty, just as I was sliding a nice piece of flounder into the grease.

“Hey! You hungry?” I asked, trying to sound like Mrs. Blithe Spirit. “I’ve got a ton of flounder.”

“Sure. I’ll just go wash up. Where’s Charlie?”

“Oh, Jackie! The most wonderful thing happened!” I had practiced the story over and over since Charlie and Steve left. “Steve had tickets to the RiverDogs game to sit in the owners’ box with Bill Murray! Isn’t that grand? Charlie was beside himself with excitement! They should be home any time now because the game started at five.”

“You did what?”

“I told you—”

“You told me you let my only child go off alone with a near-perfect stranger and you didn’t even call me to ask if I thought that was all right?”

“He’s not a stranger, Jackie. I know Steve very well, and he has a wonderful reputation. Pristine, in fact. There’s no reason to think that there’s a thing to worry about.”

“Really? What if something
does
happen to him?”

“Since when don’t you think you can trust your own mother’s judgment? Now, you go wash your hands and come back in here and apologize to me. I’m losing patience with your paranoia, Jackie. It’s not right, and it puts unnecessary stress on Charlie.”

Well, that shut her up for the moment. We ate dinner in relative silence until we heard the car door slam. Charlie came bursting into the room, practically floating.

“Guess what? The RiverDogs won by one point, I sat with Bill Murray the whole time, I have five of his autographs—I’m gonna sell four on eBay—and he gave me a T-shirt and a baseball and a hat and he signed them all!”

Steve was standing by the door smiling, pleased as punch that he had done a very nice thing for Charlie and that it had worked out so well. Jackie’s face was bloodred with embarrassment.

“And I ate four hot dogs, I got to go in the dugout and meet the team, and then I threw up, but only once. And I’m fine now. And I’m starving. Is there any more fish?”

Chapter 9

. . . the tulip-tree. . . . Embracing the huge cylinder, as closely as possible, with his arms and knees, seizing with his hands some projections, and resting his naked toes upon others, Jupiter, after one or two narrow escapes from falling, at length wriggled himself into the first great fork . . .