Porch Lights (36 page)

“You finally sick of fishing?” I asked, and sorry, I couldn’t help the self-satisfied feeling that caused the corners of my mouth to turn up in a smile.

He smiled back, turned his head to one side, and squinted his eyes, looking at me suspiciously as though I’d asked him if he’d like to jump off the Cooper River Bridge.

“Don’t go crazy on me, Annie. I didn’t say anything about giving up fishing.”

“Hmmm. I see.”

“Well?”

“Well what?” I looked at him squirming around and thought, Oh, all right. “Oh! I get it! You want an answer right now?”

“Are you saying you don’t love me anymore? Is that it?”

“Buster? I’ve never loved anyone
else
. You know that.”

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“Because I’m
telling
you so, and now I’m gonna
show
you!” I took his face in my hands and gave the old codger the kiss of a lifetime.

When I let him go, he said, “Wow! Whew! Annie? I promise to pick up my fishing gear and not leave stuff lying around. Okay?”

“That’s good enough for me. Now let’s go feed these people! You talk to Jackie, and I’ll dress the salad.”

“I like the way you do business, Mrs. Britt,” he said and gave me a light slap on my backside.

“What? You old fool! There’ll be no funny business in front of the kids! Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am! Loud and clear.”

Steve was out in the rain under an umbrella with the steaks and Deb was slicing the baguette, dropping chunks of bread into a bread basket.

“You got butter on the table?” she asked.

“No, it’s in the fridge,” I said. “I’ll get it.” I reached into the refrigerator, put my hand on the butter dish, something I thought I could probably do in the dark, and handed it over to Deb. It was remarkable how many simple things in my life had become habitual, like where I kept my butter dish and how I folded my towels and how I made my bed. I liked my habits because they made me feel like I had some control over my life. And now Buster was coming home. So far, and that would be approximately ten minutes into it, I liked the idea. A lot.

Jackie and Buster came into the kitchen from the living room. They decided they would watch the storm track carefully and figure out what to do about her departure as the night went on.

“Look, if I leave tomorrow afternoon instead of early in the morning, it really doesn’t matter too much. So I agree. Let’s watch and wait.”

“I’m gonna go help Steve before he ruins our dinner,” Buster said and winked at me as he passed by. “It’s almost dark, and the rain is really starting to come down.”

“What’s he winking about?” Jackie said.

“Oh, was he winking? I thought he had a gnat in his eye,” I said.

“Humph. Ain’t no fool like an old fool,” Deb said.

“What does that mean?” Jackie said.

“It
means
your father has expressed a desire to fully resume his marital status.”

Jackie and Deb stopped dead and looked at me as if to say,
Get off your high horse, Queen Victoria, and speak to your subjects like a normal person.

I returned the look, and finally we laughed.

“Okay,” Deb said, “I’m thinking when this storm passes,
somebody
better be getting their old bahunkus over to the florist to buy a gargantuan bouquet for my best friend!”

“And
somebody
better be buying my pretty momma some really decadent chocolate!”

“And what about Crogan’s?” I asked. “Don’t you think
somebody
should find something sparkly in a little velvet box for his unbelievably loyal and
extremely
patient wife?”

“Here, here!” they chorused, and we picked up three random glasses to clink and then we shared a very silly fit of giggles. But in the next moment we stopped when the wind gave a good long howl all the way around the house. “We’d better get the chair cushions and everything off the porch. I think we can just lay it all down on the living room floor.”

The three of us hurried out to the porch and began gathering up everything as quickly as we could. The paper lanterns had already come down from the hooks and were in shreds from banging against the porch railings. The hammock was doing a crazy dance in the wind, and it took Deb
and
Jackie to get it down. We began bringing in rockers one by one, and in just the short period of time that we’d left the porch after having one drink until then, we were getting wet as the strong winds had the rain blowing sideways. Suddenly we had a hurricane on our hands. If this was the outer band, what would the weather be like by four
A.M.
?

“Where’s Charlie?” I shouted to Jackie. “He could hold the door for us!”

“I’ll get him! He’s in his room.
Charlie? Come help us, son!
”

It seemed a little ridiculous now that we had waited so long to empty the porch, but who knew the storm would become so furious that quickly? Nonetheless, we continued our job while we heard Jackie screaming over and over for Charlie.

“Maybe he’s outside with Buster!” I called out to her.

“Maybe he went to get the dogs!” Deb yelled.

It wasn’t five minutes later that we all realized the horrible truth: Charlie was gone.

Chapter 19

“It is clear that Kidd—if Kidd indeed secreted this treasure, which I doubt not—it is clear that he must have had assistance in the labor. But, the worst of this labor concluded, he may have thought it
expedient
to remove all participants in his secret . . .”

—Edgar Allan Poe, “The Gold-Bug”

Jackie

“O
kay,” I remember saying, “we have to put our heads together.” My heart was racing so fast I was short of breath. “I found this note on his pillow. It looks like he climbed out of his window. The fire escape ladder was hooked to his windowsill, and the window was open.”

“That explains why no one saw him,” Steve said.

“Why would he do such a thing?” Dad asked.

“He’s ten,” I answered.

We were all standing in the kitchen, except Mom, who had collapsed into a chair. Miss Deb had her hand on Mom’s shoulder. Dad and Steve had come in from the rain and were dripping water all over the floor. The steaks piled onto the foil-covered platter would have to wait a while. It was odd what registered when a trauma happened. For me everything came into sharp focus. My mother obviously had the opposite experience. I wasn’t even sure she could hear us.

“Let me see the note,” Dad said, taking it from me.

The note read, “Mom, you can go back. I’m staying here. I have plenty of money and protein bars. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. Love you. Charlie McMullen P.S. Sorry.”

“He took the protein bars? I just bought them this afternoon!” Mom said and we ignored her.

“He can’t have gone that far,” Dad said, handing the note to Steve. He stepped out onto the back porch and then came back inside. “My cast net is gone.”

“Is he planning to live off the land? Did he take his skateboard?” Steve asked.

“I’ll go look,” I said.

“I’m calling the police,” Dad said.

“For what?” I asked.

“Because,” he said, “they’ll be patrolling the island all night, and if they spot a little boy they’ll know where to bring him.”

“Right,” I said and hurried around the house to see if I could find Charlie’s skateboard. It was nowhere to be found. His clothes he had been wearing all day were in a pile on the floor of his room. What I had laid out for him to wear on our trip was gone.

I heard Dad on the phone. “Ten years old. Charlie McMullen. He’s almost five feet tall, black hair, blue eyes.” Pause. “Yeah, he was wearing shorts and a T-shirt.”

“No, he changed his clothes!” I said. “Dad! Tell them he was wearing long jeans, a navy-and-gray-striped T-shirt, and sneakers. And his windbreaker, it was red! And he took his RiverDogs baseball cap.”

“Did you hear that?” Dad said. “Okay. Yeah, this is Buster Britt. Yeah, Britt. We’re up at twenty-eight and a half. Yep, the Salty Dog. Thanks. Much appreciated.”

“What did they say?” I said.

“The dispatcher said for us to sit tight and don’t go looking for him in this weather. It’s too dangerous to be outside. They’re sending a patrol car to us right away, and the others will be on the lookout for him.”

“That’s it? No manhunt? I mean, we’ve got a kid on the loose in a
hurricane
and the four policemen we have on this island are all we have to find my
only
child? Screw that! I’m outta here!”

I turned to go get my purse, and Steve followed me to my room.

“I’m going with you,” he said. “Grab Charlie’s dirty clothes.”

“For what? I don’t need any help.”

“
Yes, you do!
Don’t argue with me. I’m bringing the dogs. They’re Boykins, remember? They’ll be able to smell Charlie a mile away!”

“Oh, God! I hope so!”

I found my purse, ran to Charlie’s room and scooped up his T-shirt and shorts, and hurried back to the kitchen.

“I need a flashlight, Dad,” I said. He put the one he was holding into my shaking hands.

“I’m gonna get the dogs and their leashes,” Steve said. “My car or yours?”

“Let’s take yours. He might run if he sees mine.” Besides, I was trembling too hard to drive.

Steve rushed out the door.

“Be careful, honey,” Dad said. “I’m gonna walk the beach with my big flashlight.”

I nodded. “Good idea. Thanks.”

“Start with the house where that Greenville family is staying,” Mom said from her fog. “I’m going to say a rosary now.”

I didn’t comment. What was the point?

“I’ve got my cell,” I said. “Call me if you hear anything.”

I zipped up my own windbreaker, pulled the hood around my head, and tightened it.

“Where else would he go?” Miss Deb asked.

“Maybe the forts? Be careful, Jackie,” Mom said. “Put a hat on. It will help keep the water out of your eyes. By the door . . . on the hook.” I took her old canvas bucket hat and pulled it down on my head. “For God’s sake, please be careful!”

“I will,” I said and hurried out the door, down the steps, and across the yard. The rain was coming down so hard it hurt.

Steve, struggling with Stella and Stanley, clicked the remote from his back steps to unlock his car, and I jumped in. Stella and Stanley hurried up into the backseat and Steve got in, starting the engine as quickly as he could.

“Let’s go to the Greenville house first,” I said.

“Which one is it?”

“It’s on Atlantic Avenue, around Station Twenty-seven.” It was only a short distance. “That’s it, on the left.”

It was easy to see that it was unoccupied. The shutters were closed. There were no lights, no cars, no signs of life. “They must have evacuated,” Steve said.

“Yeah, let’s go over to Middle Street and then go over to Poe’s. He loves Poe’s Tavern.”

Middle Street was a ghost town, and to my surprise, Poe’s was locked up tight as a drum.

The gas station was the only business still open. Steve turned in there and stopped. “You stay here. I’ll be right back,” he said and hopped out, leaving the engine on and the windshield wipers still furiously wiping away.

I watched him go inside, and then I turned to Stella and Stanley, giving them a good whiff of Charlie’s clothes. “Listen, you two, we gotta find my boy. Please help me. Please help me.”

They whined and yelped as though they understood me. I prayed that they did, with all my heart I prayed.

I felt ill, as though I might have a stroke or that I might die. I could feel my life draining away. I didn’t know what was happening to me. I began to pray harder.
Please, God, please don’t take Charlie away from me. I don’t think I can live without him. But if you have to take him, please take me too. Because I can’t live . . . I just can’t.

The door opened, and Steve jumped in his seat as fast as he could, slamming the door. “Oh, God, look at you,” he said.

He reached into his glove compartment and pulled out a pack of tissues. Apparently I had been crying and I didn’t even know it.

“Thanks,” I said and wiped my face. “Anything?”

“Yeah, the woman in there said a kid matching Charlie’s description was here about half an hour ago. He bought a hot dog and smothered it in ketchup.”

“That had to be him! Did she see where he went? Did he say anything?”

“Yes, but nothing very useful. She said to him, what are you doing out in this kind of weather? And he said he just felt like a hot dog. She said he stood there and ate every bite, said thanks, and left by the front door. And that he paid with a very wadded-up five-dollar bill.”

“Well, that helps nothing. Except that it was thirty minutes ago. He couldn’t be too far away. Let’s try Fort Moultrie. He could hide a million places in there.”

“I agree.”

I called home. Mom answered. “The police are here,” she said. “They want a picture of Charlie.”

“Just give them the most recent one. Mom, tell the officer that Charlie stopped by the gas station and ate a hot dog.”