Chapter Eleven

At 6:30 I gave up tossing from side to side and dragged myself down to the kitchen to find Christian there ahead of me making coffee. I drew in a deep breath. “There is nothing that smells better than coffee after a bad night.”

He shrugged. Something in the set of his shoulders activated my maternal alert system. My heart sped up, my breathing quickened, my stomach clenched.

“Mom, we need to talk.”

“What’s wrong?” I walked over to stand beside him, busily fighting off thoughts about Christian and Trinity having a baby, Christian and Trinity getting married, Christian dropping out of school to become a day laborer. Mama’s training was hard to shake.

“For God’s sake, what were you thinking?” He put his hands on his hips.

I looked down at myself to make sure I wasn’t dressed in some hideous rag that would cause him deep shame or even prompt him to disown me. Nope, my usual ratty robe with coffee stains on the front. If he was going to object to that, the time was long past.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ghost tours, Mom? I knew you hated your job, but ghost tours? And moving into a B&B? Where will I stay when I’m home and where will DeLorean and Cole stay if you sell this house? You didn’t think this through. You didn’t consider your family and what you owe them.”

I peered into his face. “Is that you Christian? For a few horrible seconds I thought my son had been possessed by my mother.”

“Don’t, Mom.” He gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m not ten years old. When Grandma told DeLorean and me what you were planning, I couldn’t believe it. At first I wasn’t going to say anything. But after Baldwin called I realized how much DeLorean needs your help. You can’t throw her and Cole out in the street.”

“Whoa.” I held up my hands. “There’s not going to be any street throwing. After DeLorean arrived, I saw I’d have to hold off on selling the house and moving into a B&B.”

“Thank God.” Christian had never been big on hugs. But now he wrapped his arms around me and awkwardly patted my back. “’Cause I don’t mind telling you, it isn’t just DeLorean and Cole who need help.”

“I understand that you need to get through college. It’s all taken care of, you know that.”

“It was. But, Mom, like I said, we need to talk.”

My heart gave an extra hard thump. I’d suspected from the moment he arrived that he had a problem that had brought him home. I gripped the back of a chair and watched my knuckles change from beige to pearly white.

“What is it?” I rasped out.

He favored me with his patented poor-worrywart-Mom look. “It’s not like I’m into drugs or anything. It’s only that I want to quit my job. Right now, all I do is go to class, study, and go to work. I need time to have fun once in a while. You know, I want the full college experience, which I can’t have if all my time is booked with work and classes.”

I worked my mouth for a few seconds before more words came out. “That’s out of the question. You need the money from your job to help cover expenses.”

A pout formed on my son’s face, the face that still looked so desperately young and unfinished. “I thought you could come up with some extra money to pick up the slack.”

“We discussed that before you left,” I said, feeling mean. Do mothers ever get over the desire to jump in front of a Mack truck if it would help their children? “I don’t have another dime to squeeze out of the budget. Maybe you should ask your father.” T. Chandler not only had a lot more money than I had, he owed Christian something after all the years he’d spent ignoring him.

“He’s already paying most of my college costs. I can’t ask Dad for any more money.” Christian looked like I’d just suggested he ask his father to quit his job and join a rock band.

“Why not?” I poured a cup of coffee and dipped my head to sniff deeply. Organic. Trade free. Pricey. Would I have to give up even this small luxury?

“He doesn’t have any extra cash. He already told me even before I asked.”

That figured. T. Chandler had a sensor that went off like the alarm on a bank vault whenever someone came near his money. The only time it had ever failed him was when he met the second Mrs. Caraway. I guess the waves of lust had shut the system down.

“Crystal is redecorating their new house and besides, they’re having a baby.”

I choked on my coffee. When I regained my composure, I said, “I don’t care if they’re having a litter of eight. That doesn’t excuse his obligation to his oldest child.”

“Mom, listen.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t handle a job and concentrate on school, too. And you can see this isn’t a good time to try to get money from Dad. You’re my only hope.”

“Why don’t I simply get a second job?”

Christian missed the sarcasm in my voice. He brightened up by about four hundred watts and poured himself an extra large orange juice.

“Thanks, Mom, that would be great. Between the pawnshop and a few extra hours at a souvenir shop or something in your spare time, we could manage.”

I dumped an extra sweetener in my cup. Spoiled. My son was very spoiled. Was it wrong of me to raise him to think all he had to do was ask and I would rush to make more sacrifices? Sure. So it followed that it was my fault he’d developed a sense of entitlement. But having made the mistake, wouldn’t it be just as mean to make a sudden break without giving him a chance to adjust? I didn’t know. I had a lot of thinking to do. In my spare time.

“I’ll consider getting a second job. No promises. But I’m still going into the ghost tour business.”

“Isn’t it risky to quit your job and start something new? It isn’t as if you have some kind of safety net if the business doesn’t work out.”

The back door banged open and Mama breezed into the room. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her.”

I put down my cup and forced a smile. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Don’t be rude to your own mother. I’ve come to visit my new grandson and give him a gift.” Mama held up a little blue suit with a tiny white bow tie on the collar. “Isn’t this the most adorable thing you ever saw? Now what’s this about? I thought you’d given up that foolish, foolish ghost hunting idea.”

“I have not. And now my son wants me to take on a part-time job so he can quit his own job and have more time for fun.”

“What’s wrong with that? His college experience should be your primary concern, Susan. As his mother, you owe him that, especially since his own father has deserted him to cavort with that woman. Surely your son shouldn’t have to pay the price for his parents’ failure to maintain their marriage.”

Yes, surely. It must be written that way in the Bill of Rights. As far as Mama was concerned, I was supposed to strap on a suit of armor and hoist myself onto a white horse so I could ride to my son’s rescue. Maybe I should paste on a stoic look and ask Lydia to give me one of her, “If you don’t rescue, don’t breed” bumper stickers to stick on the horse’s butt.

“I’ll understand if you can’t help me out with the extra money. But I think you’re making a big mistake leaving a solid job at the pawnshop for something hokey like ghost tours.”

Oh, God. My “solid” job at the pawnshop no longer existed. But there was no way I could tell my family I’d been fired.

“I’m a grown woman. I’ll work where I want to work.” Where I’d been forced to work, but they weren’t ever going to find out.

“Susan, you are being…” Mama broke off and looked past me. Her expression went gooey. “There he is. There’s my little man.”

I turned and saw DeLorean holding Cole and behind her, Trinity stood on the stairs. An audience. Since Friday, I hadn’t been without one.

“Christian, can we talk about this later?”

“It’s okay, Mom. I can suck it up and keep my job if I have to.” He made a face that said he fervently hoped he didn’t have to do any sucking up. “And I guess you can always go back to the pawnshop if the ghost tour business doesn’t work out. I was mostly worried about you selling the house.”

“Right. I’m sure it’s packed full of childhood memories you don’t want to lose.”

“For your information, that animal, DeLorean’s so-called dog, tried to break down your utility room door when I walked past the garage.” Mama fixed me in a disapproving glare until Cole got her attention by bopping her in the nose with his rattle. I suppressed a smile. I could get used to having that kid around.

“Kenny from down the street is going to fix the fence.” I glanced at the stove clock. “In fact, I’m surprised he isn’t here yet.”

“So am I. As I recall, the last time he worked for you, you cooked him a whole stack of pancakes and he dug into them like he hadn’t had a decent meal in a year. And speaking of pancakes, I’m quite sure my younger daughter and her baby would love to breakfast with me at the Bookstore Cafe.”

DeLorean made a big show of running her hands down her slim body and looking horrified as if she’d detected an extra half ounce or so of unsightly fat that had attached itself to her hips overnight. “I don’t know, Mama. I haven’t lost the last few pounds I gained while I was pregnant.”

Christian snorted. DeLorean shot him a look and finally let Mama persuade her to go out—Mama’s way of apologizing for upsetting her yesterday—and Kenny still hadn’t shown up.

I fixed breakfast using Trinity’s recipe for vanilla cream pancakes. I ate one more pancake than I should have and wondered for the third time in ten minutes what had happened to Kenny.

“I really need that fence fixed.” I reached for the phone. “I’ll call and remind Kenny.”

Christian popped out of his chair and patted his stomach. “If all you mean is that little section where the wire is torn loose, I can fix that. Won’t take me half an hour.”

“Really?” I could hardly believe what I was hearing. Christian had never been into maintenance.

“Sure. Part of the reason you’re keeping this big house is for my sake. The least I can do is help out.”

I didn’t realize how much he cared about the house until now. But if the thought of me selling was enough to get him to take an interest in keeping it up, I was in favor.

Nearly an hour later, long enough for Mama and DeLorean to return, the fence was hole free. Trinity led Brad out of the utility room and turned him loose for a romp on the grass. He made one circuit of the yard, galloping and bucking like a rodeo bronc, and then flopped on his back under an oak.

“Done and ready to go.” Christian had just come out of the house with his and Trinity’s bags. He put them down and hugged me. “’Bye Mom.”

Trinity waited for him to step back before she moved in and wrapped her arms around me. “It’s been great meeting you, Susan. And I thought you might like to know—I didn’t sleep with Christian. I camped out in a sleeping bag on the floor.”

“Nice meeting you, too.” I said evenly, hiding my surprise.

“I sort of have a boyfriend, you know.”

Her boyfriend must be Brandon of the Citadel. I wondered if Trinity had told Mama about the sleeping arrangements. Probably not, or she’d still be in the house listening to Mama tell her that sleeping bag or not, a proper young lady does not spend the night in a man’s room unless she wants to provide fodder for the gossip mill.

After they left, an uncomfortable heaviness settled in my stomach, signal that I needed to put myself on a mini diet for the rest of the day. Could be I was simply feeling guilty over my failure to leap to rescue Christian from his job.

Mama was in the kitchen washing my cookware when I got back inside. She put the last pan in the rack, rinsed the sink, and hung the dishcloth over the faucet. “I have to rush. My babies are home alone and they do not understand why I had to skip church and tear over to Mount Pleasant first thing to visit kin. They do not know I had to leave them home in case that animal was on the loose.”

“Christian fixed the fence. Brad won’t be in the house or on the porch or anywhere else close to your babies from now on.

She clapped her hand over her heart. “I certainly appreciate your concern. They are very delicate, you know.” She snatched up her purse. “I will speak to DeLorean.” She turned in a complete circle looking for the offending daughter, who’d gone upstairs. “When I see her. Surely she can’t afford to feed an animal that size if she can’t even feed herself.”

My exact thought. I walked Mama to the door, wondering what made her think she could influence DeLorean. Of course, I knew it didn’t matter to Mama if she talked until she keeled over from exhaustion. It was her self-assigned duty to spend her days directing the lives of her family and friends as she saw fit.

Mama stepped outside still muttering about DeLorean and her self-made problems. She’s gone down my steps a thousand times, but today she caught the heel of her shoe on the second step and tumbled to the ground before I could catch her.

I bounded forward and knelt at her side. “Mama, are you okay?”

Her face was pale and her eyes were closed. She opened them briefly. “Don’t screech, dear, it isn’t ladylike. I believe I’ve broken my ankle.”

“Don’t move.” I pressed my hands on her shoulders as if I thought she was planning to leap to her feet and rumba down the driveway. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

“I am not dead or dying. Take me in the car. Thank God the babies weren’t with me. Did you see how my purse flew halfway across the front yard and landed on the walkway? They could have been killed, smashed like little bugs.”

I rolled my eyes heavenward. Why in the world was she worried about dogs when her ankle was already the size of a grapefruit? I raced into the house and yelled for DeLorean.

She helped me get Mama into the van and then she ran back inside for Cole and his equipment, despite Mama’s protests that she didn’t require an entourage for a simple trip to the East Cooper Regional Medical Center. My sister caught my eye and mouthed, “She’d never forgive me.”

I heaved Cole’s diaper bag, a blue and yellow carryall half the size of a footlocker, into the back and rammed the key into the ignition.

“How are you holding up?” I said, when Mama winced as we roared out of the driveway.

“Regina Marsh is not a woman who complains or whines. Thirty-one hours of labor with you and thirty-seven with your sister. I certainly know how to deal with pain.” Mama turned her long-suffering face in my direction and managed a watery smile.

From the back seat DeLorean didn’t quite manage to suppress a snort. We both knew that once Mama got started on the subject of childbirth she was compelled to go through the entire labor process minute by minute. And when she was done talking about her own, she’d get started on those of her friends. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d heard about Millie Conrad’s forceps delivery. According to Mama, Millie never could walk straight after her son was born and it was positively frightening the way she rocked spraddle-legged from side to side when she climbed a set of porch steps.

After a squad of attendants took Mama back to see to her injury, DeLorean and I settled in the waiting room. If past experience was any guide, we had a long wait. During the years Christian was growing up, I’d accustomed myself to emergency rooms. There was the time he had a fever of 105 degrees and the time he broke his arm playing baseball and the time he wrecked his bike and had to have stitches in his leg.

But I’d never had to worry over an injury to my own mother. I don’t know what I’d have done if anything had happened to her while I was growing up. She was, after all, my only living parent. And DeLorean was my only sister, I thought, with a rush of guilt.

“Dee?” I said, half-turning to face her.

“What?” She poked the nipple of a bottle into Cole’s mouth and said something to him in baby talk about him being a handsome little man.

“I’m sorry about last night.” I could have added that I didn’t know what had gotten into me, but that would have been a lie. “I was awfully snappy with you over absolutely nothing.”

“Hey, stressful times, right” She pursed her lips and blew me a kiss.

I shrugged. I wondered if I’d handle it any better the next time I let my feelings about Jack get out of control. But I’d been over this topic last night. About a hundred times while I’d lain awake. What Jack did was Jack’s business, and the same for DeLorean. I was not going to turn into my mother, captain of the interference police.

DeLorean hummed Cole to sleep and turned her attention to a documentary about crocodiles that was playing on the TV opposite her chair. I busied myself perusing magazines. Minutes became an hour. The crocodiles on the screen gave way to elephants. Finally I tossed down a six-month-old copy of Redbook and stood.

“I’ll see if they’ll let me in the back to check on Mama.”

“Good idea. I’m surprised they didn’t come and get one of us already.” She looked across the room at a white-uniformed figure pushing a stretcher holding a screaming child. “Scratch that idea I had about nursing school. I could never be a nurse.”

Better she should find out now rather than later after she’d invested time and money in a career change.

“I’m going to consider something else. I couldn’t stand being around sick people and not being able to cure them. What do you think about paralegal studies?”

She wouldn’t have the patience for such detailed work.

“Sounds great. But you’ve got plenty of time to look around and find what interests you most.”

I scurried away before she could ask for more career advice. DeLorean was the most bullheaded person on the planet and she was not about to listen to any suggestions I might come up with any more than I’d follow her advice to give up on the idea of the ghost tour business. Come to think of it, being bullheaded was a trait she got from Mama. Some people liked to accuse me of that same trait, but I preferred to think of myself as strong-minded.

I went up to the desk and asked about Mama.

“Mrs. Marsh? Oh, yes, the lady with the ankle injury. Sorry, only one visitor at a time in the ER.” The receptionist picked up a chart and beamed me a pert smile that seemed more a signal for me to politely go away than a willingness to answer more questions.

“Excuse me?” Only one visitor. That I could understand, but who else would be visiting Mama? DeLorean and I were her daughters. No one except us would be here, not even her church family, as she called them, because they didn’t know about her injury.

“Mrs. Marsh already has a visitor.”

“That can’t be.” I leaned over the counter, and she quickly swiveled her computer monitor to face it away from me. “My sister and I are her only family. Except for her grandsons, but Cole is only a baby and Christian is away at college.”

“Her friend is with her.” Much arching of eyebrows from the unhelpful desk queen.

Friend? Had she called Pastor Whitfield or Ruth Ames?

The door leading to the back opened. I turned, my attention caught by a distinguished looking gentleman walking past. He looked vaguely familiar.

The desk queen followed my gaze. “There he is. Now you can go back. Cubicle three. It’s on the right after you pass through the double doors.” She hit a buzzer on the wall next to a chart rack.

Very efficient. But I was so deep in thought wondering about the identity of the visitor, I almost didn’t get through the electronic doors before they swung shut on my butt.

Mama was lying on a gurney in a curtained cubicle. Her eyes held the dazed look of someone who’d been drugged. She shook her head when she saw me and pointed toward her right foot, which was elevated.

“It’s sprained, not broken,” she said, her voice sounding almost disdainful as if she blamed her ankle for betraying her. “They’re going to wrap it.”

“That’s the usual procedure with sprains.” Hey, I watch ER, I know how the process works. “The receptionist said you had another visitor and I saw a man go out right before I came in. Who is he, Mama?”

She stared at me for a long minute. “Here I lie in a hospital bed, racked with pain, and all you can think to do is ask nosy questions?”

I pulled the visitor chair up to her gurney and plopped down. “I’m wondering why a man, someone I’ve never met, is allowed to see you while DeLorean and I have to sit out front worrying.”

“Worrying? For heaven’s sake, it’s only a sprained ankle.”

“For all we knew you’d sustained internal injuries. Want to tell me about your friend?”

“You should have only one concern on your mind and that is concern for your mother and her well-being. My gentleman friend, not that it is any of your business, is Rhett Dearborn. We’ve been seeing each other for almost five months.” Mama’s expression went from dazed to defiant, as if she expected me to wail and rip my hair out because she had a man in her life after more than twenty years alone.

“That’s great,” I said. “Really wonderful.”

She shifted, trying to move higher on the gurney, and I wondered if I should offer to plump up her pillow. “I hadn’t realized I was sometimes lonely until I started spending time with Rhett. The babies are good company, of course, but they can’t carry on a conversation.”

Really? This was the first time she’d ever admitted the Chihuahuas couldn’t take the place of people.

“But why did you keep your boyfriend a secret?”

“Boyfriend?” Mama made tsk, tsk sounds. “That sounds so undignified. Rhett is sixty-four years old, and I have my own reasons for keeping my personal life to myself.”

“But now that I know, there’s no reason why you can’t tell me all about him. And arrange an introduction. I’m happy for you, Mama.”

“We’ll see about the introduction.” She sniffed. “I’ll give you the condensed version. Rhett is widowed, one grown son. Well-off. Retired from a shipping business. And he’s a wonderful man, a real southern gentleman. He wants to marry me, but of course I said no.”

That’s all? Marriage? And of course she said no? My jaw dropped and my mouth hung like an open trap until Mama reminded me to shut it. Good manners and all that.

“Marriage? You’ve got to accept.” It was about time she had some happiness in her life—as well as someone to keep her occupied so she’d stay out of my business.

“Love or no love, the subject is finished.” She closed her eyes and sighed gently, and I noted that the bright light overhead made the lines around her mouth seem deeper, which only added to the impression that she was suffering.

I drummed my fingers on the edge of the gurney. Clearly Mama wouldn’t have told me about her boyfriend if she hadn’t gotten injured. Older man friend, I meant. But why?

The ER crew bustled in while I was still pondering, and I went back to the lobby to update DeLorean. I didn’t leave out the part about Rhett Dearborn.

Her eyes grew huge. “If I weren’t holding a sleeping baby, I’d be positively jumping with excitement. What did she say about him?”

“Practically nothing, except that he’s widowed and he’s asked her to marry him and she turned him down. But I thought he looked familiar when I saw him leave. Now I remember. I saw him walking with her last week when I was out for coffee after yoga class. I wasn’t sure at the time it was Mama—she was in shadow—and I certainly didn’t expect to see her with a man.”

“I don’t know why she’s being silly about not wanting to get married. Did she say why?”

“No. And I’m not going to ask her.”

Mama wouldn’t tell me, I knew that much. But I was determined to find out on my own, so I could try to get her to change her mind.