Twice in a Lifetime (4 page)

“I want you to relax and enjoy.” Miz Callie tilted her head back. “Did you ever see so many stars?”

Obediently she leaned back in the chair, staring heaven-ward, her mind still scrambling for the right way to bring up the things that concerned her. After a moment or two, the tension began to seep out of her. How could anyone sit here surveying the darkened sea and the starlit sky and fret?

The surf murmured softly, accompanying the rustling of the palmetto fronds and the sea oats.

“I don’t even notice the stars in Atlanta. Too many city lights.”

Miz Callie made a small sound of contentment. “They seem to put us in our places, don’t they? ‘When I look at the heavens which Thou has created, the moon and the stars, which Thou hast ordained, what is man that Thou are mindful of him, or the son of man, that Thou visiteth him?’” Her grandmother’s gentle voice brought a lump to her throat. “That’s always been one of your favorite psalms,

hasn’t it?”

Miz Callie nodded, and the silence grew comfortably between them. Finally she spoke again, eyes still on the night sky. “I am worried about that child.”

The change of subject startled her. “You mean Lindsay?” “She’s so withdrawn. You must have noticed how she

was when she saw I had someone here.”

“She’s probably just shy.” She knew how that felt. “Grief.” Miz Callie moved slightly, hand reaching out

to the glass of sweet tea beside her. “The child’s still grieving her mother’s death.”

So Matt was a widower. She hadn’t been sure, since he still wore a wedding ring, but it had seemed implicit in the interactions with his daughter.

“Maybe he was wrong to take her away from everything that was familiar to her, just for the sake of his career.”

Miz Callie turned to look at her in the dim light. “Georgia Lee, you don’t know a thing about it, so don’t you go judging him.”

When Miz Callie spoke in that tone, an apology was in order. “No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”

Her grandmother’s expression eased. “I suspect he felt it was time for a fresh start. Sometimes that happens.”

“Sometimes a fresh start is forced on you.” What was she going to do after this interlude? Go back to Atlanta and try to find another job?

“And sometimes you just know it’s the right time.” Something in her grandmother’s tone caught her attention. “Is that why you want to move to Sullivan’s Island permanently? Because you want a fresh start?”

Miz Callie waved her arm. “Who wouldn’t want to live here, simply, instead of being enslaved to a lot of
things?
” She said the word with emphasis.

“So that’s why you’ve been giving stuff away at the Charleston house.” A frightening thought struck her. “Miz Callie, you’re not dying, are you?”

For a moment her grandmother stared at her. Then her laugh rang out. She chuckled for several moments, shaking her head. “Oh, child, how you do think. We’re all of us dying, some of us sooner than later, but no, there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Then why…”

Her grandmother sighed, apparently at Georgia’s per-sistence. “Do you remember Mary Lyn Daniels?”

Georgia’s mind scrambled among her grandmother’s friends and came up with an image. “Yes, I think so. She’s the one you always say has been your friend since the cradle, isn’t she?”

“Was,” Miz Callie said. “She passed away this winter.” “I’m sorry.” She clasped her grandmother’s hand, aware

of the fragility of fine bones covered thinly by soft skin. She should have known about that. She would have, if she’d come back more often. “Did Mary Lyn’s death—is that what has you thinking of making so many changes?” Her grandmother smiled faintly. “This isn’t just about grieving my friend, darlin’. At my age, I’ve learned how

to do that. I know I’m going to see them again.”

“What then?” She leaned toward her, intent on getting answers. “There must be some reason why you feel such a need to change things.”

Miz Callie stared out at the waves. “I’d go and sit with Mary Lyn, most afternoons. Seemed like all she wanted to do was talk about the old days, when we were children here on the island. Her memory of those times was clearer than what happened yesterday.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” She choked up at the thought of Miz Callie sitting day after day with her dying friend. Small wonder if it made her reflect on her own mortality.

“It was good to sit there with her and remember those years.” Miz Callie’s tone was soft, far away. “But sometimes she’d start in on things she regretted. Old hurts never mended. Relationships lost.” She shook her head slowly. “I don’t want to be like that at the end. And I’m thinking maybe God used Mary Lyn to show me it’s time to right old wrongs and make my peace with life.”

“Miz Callie, I don’t believe you ever did anything that needs righting.” She hadn’t been ready for a conversation about life and death tonight, and she was swimming out of her depth. “If that’s why you want to move here to the island full-time, I can understand, but I know there’s more. That doesn’t explain you hiring an attorney nobody knows to handle business no one knows about.”

Miz Callie sighed, suddenly looking her age and more.

Then she leaned over to put her hand on Georgia’s.

Georgia clung to that grip: the hand she’d always held, the one that had reassured her as a child. Now it felt cool and delicate in hers.

“All right, Georgia Lee. I know you’re worrying about me. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow what?” she asked, confused.

“Matt is comin’ tomorrow to meet with me. You can sit in with us. I’ll explain everything then.”

“But, Miz Callie…” She didn’t want to wait. And she certainly didn’t want to hear about it—whatever it was— in front of Matt.

“Tomorrow.” Her grandmother’s voice was tired but firm. “I’m not goin’ over it twice, sugar, and that’s that. You’ll hear all about it then.”

Georgia clamped her lips shut on an argument.

Tomorrow. She’d have to be content with that.

Chapter Three

G
eorgia sat in line for the drawbridge leading back onto Sullivan’s Island, glancing at her watch as if that would help. She’d be late for the meeting with Matt if she didn’t get moving, and she didn’t want Miz Callie to say anything to him that she wasn’t there to hear.

It was a good thing Miz Callie had reminded her to bring the cooler for the groceries. The closest supermar-ket was in Mount Pleasant, across the Cooper River from Charleston proper, across the Intracoastal Waterway from Sullivan’s Island. Not far, but not just around the corner, either, so islanders tended to stock up when they went.

At least once she got to the house, the secrecy would be over. Miz Callie would come clean with her so that she could resolve this situation, whatever it was, and get back to her own life, whatever was left of it.

A tall sailboat moved serenely past, and the bridge lowered into place. With a sigh of relief, she rumbled across the bridge and back onto the island. Right, then left, then left again, and she pulled up to the house.

She went up the stairs slowly, laden down by the many bags of groceries she was attempting to take in one trip.

She fumbled with the door, staggered in and found that Matt was already there.

He rose, coming quickly to help her with the bags, his dress shirt and dark tie reinforcing the fact that this was a business visit and not a neighborly call.

“Where do you want these?” He followed her into the kitchen.

She nodded toward the counter. “Let me put things in the refrigerator, and then I’ll join you.” She waited for an argument from him, but none came.

“Good. I think you should be in on this.”

He sounded sincere enough. Or maybe he was just accepting what he couldn’t change. She slid the milk and a bag of perishables onto the shelves and closed the fridge. Then she followed Matt into the living room.

Papers were spread across the round table where she and her girl cousins used to play with their paper dolls. She sat down in the wicker chair opposite Miz Callie.

Now that the moment had come, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to find out what this was all about. She glanced at Matt, but he wore his stolid lawyer’s expression that didn’t give anything away.

Miz Callie sat very straight in her rocker, hands folded in her lap. “I’ve made a decision about the Jones Island property. I’m afraid it won’t be popular with the family, but my mind is made up, and there’s no point in arguing about it.”

“I’m not going to argue, Miz Callie.” The piece of property on the uninhabited small barrier island had come down to Miz Callie through her side of the family. It was hers to do what she liked with. Surely she realized nobody would contest that.

“Good.” Her grandmother gave a short nod. She sounded very much in control, but Georgia could see her

hands were clasped tightly to keep them from trembling. “Matthew is going to turn the Jones Island land into a nature preserve to protect it from ever being developed.” Georgia blinked. Whatever she’d expected, it hadn’t been this, not after all the secrecy. “Do you mean you’re

turning it over to the state?”

“Nothing so simple,” Matt said. “Miz Callie wants the land in a private trust, so that she controls what’s done there. That makes it considerably more difficult to navigate all the various governmental regulations.”

“You’re doing fine.” Miz Callie waved away the issue. “It’ll be exactly the way I want it.”

This was a tempest in a teapot, as far as she could tell. “Miz Callie, whatever has all the secrecy been about? You must know that no one in the family will object to turning the land into a nature preserve.”

“Yes, child, I know that.” Miz Callie’s face seemed to tighten, as if the skin were drawing close against the bones. “They won’t object to the preserve. They’ll object to what I’m going to call it.”

“Call it?” Georgia echoed. This was like swimming in a fog.

Her grandmother continued to clasp her hands tightly together. “It’s to be named the Edward Austin Bodine Memorial Preserve.”

For a moment the name didn’t register. Then memories filtered through—of pictures quickly flipped past in the family album, of questions unanswered, of conversations broken off when a child entered the room.

“You mean Great-uncle Ned? Grandfather’s older brother? The one who—” She stopped, not sure how much of what she thought she knew was true and how much was a child’s imagining.

“They said he was a coward. They said he ran away rather

than defend his country in the war.” Her grandmother’s cheeks flushed. “It wasn’t true. It couldn’t have been.”

Georgia caught the confusion in Matt’s eyes. “The Second World War, she means. Supposedly Ned Bodine disappeared instead of enlisting when he was old enough to fight.” She tried to think this through, but her instinctive reaction was strong. “Miz Callie, you must know it’s not only the family who will be upset about this idea. Other folks have long memories, too. Why don’t you dedicate it to Grandfather?”

“To Ned.” Her voice was firm. “He’s been the family secret for too long.”

“Will people really be upset after all this time?” Matt asked. “Would anyone even remember?”

The fact that Matt could ask the question showed how far he had to go in understanding his adopted home.

“They remember. Charleston society is like one big family with lots of branches. Everyone knows everyone else’s heritage nearly as well as they know their own.” She ran her fingers through her hair, tugging a little, as if that would clear her thoughts. “And it’s not just that. This is a military town, always has been. Bodines have served proudly.” Her mind flickered to her brothers. “Miz Callie, please rethink this.”

Her grandmother shook her head firmly. Tears shone in her eyes.

Georgia’s heart clenched. Miz Callie was the rock of the family. She didn’t cry. She didn’t show weakness. And she certainly didn’t do things that would put half the county in an uproar.

Except…now she did.

She reached across to grasp her grandmother’s trembling hands. “It’s going to cause a lot of hard feelings, you know.” Miz Callie clutched her hand, her gaze seeking Georgia’s face. “Not if it’s proved that he didn’t run away.”

“After all this time? Miz Callie, if people have believed that all these years, surely it must be true. I know you were fond of him, but—”

“I knew him.” The words came out firmly. “He wasn’t a coward, whatever people say.”

“Please, think about what will happen if you do this.” Her grandmother was set on a course that would hurt her immeasurably. “Even if you’re right, how can you prove it after all these years?”

“Maybe I can’t, not alone.” Her fingers tightened on Georgia’s. “I want you to help me.”

“Me?” The word came out in an uncertain squeak.

“I can’t die without making this right. I should have done it long ago.”

The echo of something lost reverberated in her words, twisting Georgia’s heart. So this was the wrong she’d talked about—the one that needed righting.

“Miz Callie, you know I’d do anything for you. But I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Matthew will help you. The two of you can do it. You have to.” Her voice didn’t waver, but a tear spilled down her cheek.