Summer in the South (30 page)

Death smooths the rough edges, obliterates the cruelties of the deceased. It makes heroes of monsters.

Fraser chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows with Jake? He always had a certain charm with women.”

“I don’t think he would ever purposefully hurt Will.”

Fraser gave her a sly look. “Why are you defending him?”

“I’m not defending him. I’m just pointing out that there are always two sides to every story. There may be something we don’t know.”

“Anyway, six months after the broken engagement Hadley was killed in a car accident. The rumor is, she was driving back from visiting Will, trying unsuccessfully to get him to take her back. And Jake and Will have been stuck ever since. Neither one can forgive and move on because neither one wants to talk about what happened.”

“That’s not true. I think Jake is willing to talk but Will isn’t.”

An Irish jig played softly in the background. They were quiet for a while, sipping their drinks.

Fraser shrugged. “You may be right. Will keeps himself bound up pretty tight. Somehow you’ve got to get him talking. You know as well as I do that the thing that works about therapy is talking.”

Ava shook her head. “I’m no therapist. No one should accept psychological counseling from someone as fucked-up as me.”

“He’ll listen to you.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

“Are we going to talk about denial then?” Fraser said mildly, setting his drink down. “Because I’m an expert on denial.”

Ava said, “Shut up.”

He giggled.

They sat quietly listening to the music. The waitress came and asked them if they wanted another drink and Ava hesitated, looking at Fraser.

“One more for the road,” he said.

“It’s a good thing we walked,” Ava said, watching the weary woman push her way through the crowd.

“We’ll probably have to take a cab home. Mother said it was supposed to rain.”

He got up and went to the bathroom and when he came back, Ava said, “There’s something else I want to ask you.”

“Okay. Shoot.” He settled himself in the booth, pushing his cape back from his shoulders with fussy movements.

“Did you ever hear anything about Charlie Woodburn beating Fanny?”

Fraser frowned and shook his head. “No,” he said. “I mean, Mother rarely speaks of him, of course, no one does. But in the little I’ve heard her say, there’s never been any mention of him being abusive. Just
unsuitable.
I think she would have mentioned something like that.” He regarded her with bright, curious eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” she said, smiling at the tired waitress who had brought their drinks.

W
hen she got home that evening, she went straight to her laptop and began to write. It was a cool, rainy evening. The rain had started around nine o’clock, and had continued, steady and undiminished, for hours, a soft, rattling accompaniment to the sound of her fingers striking the keyboard.

Whatever block she had been suffering from was lifted. As the dark house settled around her and the rain lightly shook the windows, she wrote in long, continuous sections about Charlie. He had changed. He did not reveal himself so readily now; he was secretive, cunning. There was a hint of avarice in his love for Fanny that Ava had not realized before. Fanny was his possession. His chattel.

Ava wrote until the early hours of the morning. The rain eventually stopped and a pale ribbon of moonlight streaked the glass. The old house shifted and creaked, while all around her the unsuspecting Woodburns slept.

For the first time in her life, Ava knew what it was to be part of a family, a group of people whose opinions mattered to her. She could not bear to think of Josephine and Will’s faces if they should find out about her novel. She couldn’t bear to think what Fanny and Maitland would say. Yet she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stop writing. She was like a medium receiving messages from the dead.

And they were everywhere in this house.

T
he next morning Fanny and Josephine were waiting for her in the breakfast room. The storm had broken in the night, and the air was cool and fresh. The breakfast room windows were open, a gentle scent of tea olive and honeysuckle wafting in.

Ava sat down at the table and Josephine brought her a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast that she’d been keeping warm on the stove. Fanny poured her a cup of coffee.

“Don’t you just love how clean the air smells after a rain?” she said, smiling brightly.

“It was a quiet storm,” Ava said, spreading pear preserves on her toast. “It stopped around three o’clock.”

“Oh?” Josephine said, sitting down beside her. “Were you awake then?”

“Well, yes,” Ava said. “I mean, I heard the rain stop. It had been drumming in the gutter for so long, and I guess I heard it stop and looked at the clock.” She had crawled into bed around four o’clock and had promptly fallen into a deep sleep.

Fanny and Josephine glanced at each other. “I hope you aren’t having trouble sleeping,” Josephine said quietly.

“Oh, no. It wasn’t that,” Ava said, not wanting to tell them about her nighttime labors. She realized that they had obviously overheard her argument with Will yesterday and that’s why they were still here at the breakfast table. They were waiting for her.

Fanny smiled nervously at Josephine. She put her elbows on the table and propped her cheek on one hand. “I think I’ll wash my hair today,” she said, to no one in particular.

Ava finished her eggs. She looked at Josephine, chewing thoughtfully. “Why are you still here? Don’t you have bridge this morning?”

Josephine said, “We don’t play in July. Too many Trump Queens off on vacation.”

She and Fanny exchanged another swift look. Ava ate her breakfast, staring through the window at the deep green lawn and the glistening hedges. She had turned off her phone last night but this morning, thinking she might have missed a call from Will, she had turned it back on. She had been expecting him to call and apologize for their argument over Jake. Watching as the dial lit up, she realized there was no missed call.

“I hope you don’t think we’re prying,” Josephine began, then stopped, touching her mouth delicately with a napkin. “Will is such a private person. He was always like that, even as a child. And so, naturally, there are certain—things he wouldn’t have discussed with you.” She waited for this to sink in. Ava gave no sign of disagreement, and Josephine went on. “Jake was a handsome boy, handsome as—any of that side of the family. But like all of them, he was trouble.”

No one said anything. The word “them” hung heavily in the air.

Fanny plucked at her hair. “He was a lovely boy,” she said absently, her eyes fixed dreamily on the window. “He always had the nicest manners. ‘Miss Fanny,’ he used to call me in that teasing manner he has. So full of high spirits and so popular with the girls. Why, I remember …” She yelped suddenly and looked at Josephine, and Ava had the distinct impression that Josephine had kicked her under the table.

Josephine cleared her throat. “He was a lovely young man,” she murmured. “There’s no disputing that.” She hesitated as if uncertain how to continue. “And it was unfortunate what happened between him and Will.”

“Oh, yes, yes, it was tragic,” Fanny said, her eyes wide and tender. “I worried so about Will during all of that. It almost killed him.”

Josephine gave Fanny a piercing look but Fanny, oblivious, continued to stare sadly out the window. Josephine had obviously agreed to do much of the talking, but she seemed uncertain how to proceed. She appeared unwilling to mention Hadley. The dead girl seemed to haunt the occupants of the house like a ghost; her presence was felt everywhere, but especially in the long silences that fell across the breakfast room table.

“They were as close as brothers at one time,” Josephine said. “But later they had—a falling-out. And Will has a good heart, he’s a good boy, a good man, but like all the Woodburns he has a streak of stubbornness. He has a tendency not to forgive people who have hurt him.”

Fanny sighed. “Just like Papa,” she said. “So much like Papa.”

“Having an unforgiving nature is not a good thing, of course, and we don’t encourage this estrangement.”

“But it takes two to tango,” Fanny said wistfully. A big gray cat Ava had never seen before jumped up on her lap.

“Yes, whatever it is that drove them to—” Josephine hesitated, and Ava could see that she was trying not to mention Hadley, not knowing how much Will had told her and not wanting to get him into any trouble. “To quarrel,” she finished lamely. “They’ll have to work it out between them. Will and Jake. And they will eventually, I feel sure of it.”

The backdoor slammed and Alice walked into the kitchen wearing a turquoise tennis suit and a pair of pink Keds. “Aha,” she said. “I knew I’d find you two working her over.”

“I’m beginning to understand now,” Ava said, putting her fork down and looking around the table. “You heard us arguing yesterday. Or maybe someone called and told you they’d seen me coming out of Jake Woodburn’s shop.”

“Bingo,” Alice said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“I think the important thing to remember,” Josephine continued calmly, indicating with a look that Alice should sit down and be quiet, “is that in the past Jake went after a girl he knew Will was in love with. He betrayed his trust.”

“What about Hadley?” Ava said. “She betrayed his trust, too.”

Alice sat down on the other side of Fanny. No one said anything. It was obvious that they held Hadley to a different standard.

Alice stirred cream into her coffee. “He went after her even though she and Will had dated all through high school. And Will and Jake were cousins. You know that, right? Like brothers, really. I tell you, it was the talk of the town. And that’s why people pay so much attention when they see you and Jake together.” Ava opened her mouth to protest and Alice said quickly, “Not that anyone is suggesting that there’s anything improper going on between you and Jake. I’m just saying that people see you together and they’re
curious.
That’s why they talk.”

Fanny sighed and plucked aimlessly at an errant curl. She leaned her cheek on the palm of one hand. “He always wanted whatever Will had. If Will had a new suit, then nothing would do but for Jake to have one, too. If Will got a new camera, Jake would sulk until he got one.”

The implication was that Jake would not have bothered with Ava if it were not for the fact that Will was interested in her. Ava didn’t for one minute think that Fanny had meant to be offensive; still, the remark was insulting. And yet, the same thought had occurred to Ava herself on several occasions.

Josephine said. “I know there’s nothing between you and Jake, but I wonder if it’s wise to be seen around town with him.”

“I was looking at his furniture,” Ava said in a heavy tone. “In the middle of the morning. We weren’t doing anything
inappropriate.
”

“Well, of course you weren’t!” Fanny cried staunchly.

Josephine said quietly, “No one’s accusing you of anything.”

“Really? Well, it sure sounds like someone is. It sure sounds like someone is implying that I did something wrong. I wish people would mind their own business. I can’t believe someone actually picked up the phone and called you to report something so ridiculous.” Ava wondered if Josephine had ever had to warn Hadley Marsh of inappropriate behavior; but no, Hadley was a Southern girl. She would have understood the intricacies of small-town social conduct.

“It is one of the drawbacks of living in a small town,” Josephine said agreeably. She turned her face to the window, giving Ava time to collect herself. “No one’s saying either of you has done anything improper. I’m only bringing it up because I know how wounded Will would be if he saw you together.”

Of course she was right. Ava felt a faint stirring of guilt. “Look,” she said. “I went by Jake’s shop because I’m writing an article on Woodburn and he’s been very helpful with some of the information he’s given me. He has a different perspective,” she finished lamely. “Having lived outside of the South.”

“An article on Woodburn!” Fanny cried. “Oh, Sister, isn’t that wonderful?”

“Wonderful,” Josephine said flatly.

“What’s your angle?” Alice asked, leaning forward on her elbows. “Small welcoming Southern town versus big impersonal Yankee city?”

“Alice!” Fanny said.

“Ava doesn’t mind,” Alice said fiercely. “She doesn’t mind if I speak frankly about Yankees.” She patted Ava’s hand. “She’s one of us now.”

“Gee, thanks,” Ava said.

“Alice,” Josephine said in a warning voice.

“No, Josephine, I will not be quiet.” Alice’s chin quivered and she looked defiantly around the table. “I’m sorry,” she said. “But the whole South’s being overrun with Yankees. They’re always rushing here and there, driving like maniacs, throwing up shopping malls and subdivisions where there used to be nothing but green fields and trees.”

“I think that’s called progress,” Josephine said archly.

“I don’t care what it’s called.” Alice said. “It’s mucking things up.”

Josephine and Alice immediately launched into an argument over the good old days versus the present, with Josephine taking the side of progress and Alice arguing for the old agrarian society. Fanny leaned her chin on one hand and stared dreamily out the window as if she wasn’t listening to either one. Ava was relieved that the conversation had shifted away from her “article” about Woodburn, and from Jake. Despite the fact that she agreed with them, in theory, that Jake shouldn’t have gotten involved with Hadley, she couldn’t help but feel oddly defensive of him. Certainly she could identify with him: a poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks who finds himself suddenly taken up by the aristocratic Woodburns, a family who could provide him with an education, a comfortable lifestyle, and therefore a brighter future than any he might have provided for himself. And really, was it any different with Ava herself? If Will had not provided her with the means to quit her day job and spend the summer down here rent-free, would she have ever had the opportunity to finish a novel? Not likely.