Chapter Fourteen

She stared at me as if she expected me to break out a magic wand and when I didn’t, she said, “What are you waiting for, Susan? Do something. Mama is about to have a cow, and I couldn’t deal with all the noise. This evening has gone off the stress charts, and I almost wish I was back with Baldwin. No, not really. I couldn’t handle any more of his putdowns. But still. I expected peace and quiet and a little sympathy at your house. God, I need meditation time, not a circus.”

“Sorry I fell short in the peace and quiet department. Of course, I don’t have any stress of my own.”

Ignoring my crack, she grabbed my shoulder and pulled me forward so hard I almost tripped over the doorsill. “I called that boy, Kenny, to take Brad for a walk because he wouldn’t stop barking—Brad, not Kenny. The Chihuahuas finally shut up after I gave them some leftover ham, and Cole is napping, though that won’t last. You have to see to Mama because I simply can’t get any sense out of her and I have had it up to here.” She put her hand about a foot over her head. I could see that her hair needed combing and there was a swath of yellow baby drool smeared across her left shoulder.

I smiled insincerely. “Why don’t you make us a pot of tea while I get started soothing Mama?”

Her eyes widened. I’d just given her the keys to unlock the serenity secrets of the galaxy. “Super. Yes, tea would be great. I knew you’d know exactly what to do.”

She trotted off to the kitchen while I went into the family room and found Mama and her Chihuahuas. Tiny was so traumatized by the evening’s events that he didn’t even bother to shoot me a dirty look when I sat next to Mama and put my hand over hers. A second later I realized it wasn’t trauma, but a tummyache that troubled the little hellion. He suddenly dipped his head over the side of the couch and deposited a pink mess onto the rug. No doubt the ham DeLorean had bribed him with had done a number on his digestive system.

Mama appeared faintly troubled. “Oh, dear. Susan, would you—“

“I’m on it.” I gathered the Chihuahuas and put them on the porch, where they could vomit as much as they wanted, and I could hose away the mess later. I returned with a wad of paper towels and some carpet cleaner and took care of the rug. After I washed my hands about six times, I marched back to Mama. This time there would be no distractions.

“What did Philip want? And don’t tell me he was here to see his long-lost daughter and his grandson. Something’s going on and I need to know about it if you expect me to help you.” I crossed my arms over my chest to let her know I wasn’t backing down this time.

Mama sniffled and rubbed the end of her nose until it turned scarlet. DeLorean wasn’t kidding about her coming across like an allergy sufferer. Then she went quiet until I thought the ticking of the mantel clock was going to make me scream.

DeLorean came in balancing the teapot and assorted cups and saucers on a tray. She’d managed to find time to smooth her hair and wipe the baby drool off her shoulder.

I poured us each a cup and turned to Mama. “We’re going to sit here all night until you tell us. I can be stubborn, too, Mama.”

“I did not ask for your help, but you seem to determined to interfere.” She lifted her chin. “It is none of your business, Susan. Or your sister’s. Or maybe it is. But since I am staying in your house, and Philip says I have until Wednesday evening and then he will be surely be back--well, I have decided to tell you every detail of his latest scheme to send me to an early grave.”

“Let me guess,” DeLorean said. She was still hyperventilating. If the tea didn’t calm her, I’d probably have to give her a paper bag to breathe into. “He wants money. Just tell him no and be done with him. Honestly, Mama, he can’t force you to give him money.”

“I’m afraid he can.” Mama worked her hands like she expected to be petting a Chihuahua. She frowned at her empty lap, and I wondered if she even remembered that the babies were on my porch purging themselves.

A Mama-is-in-real-trouble gene suddenly kicked in and my heart started skittering in my chest. If my expression was anything like DeLorean’s, then anyone who saw us would offer us all tranquilizers or a stiff drink.

“Suspense, Mama. Suspense.” I made come on motions with my free hand. “Do you owe him alimony or half your possessions or does he maybe have a video of you prancing around naked in front of Reverend Whitfield and he’s threatening to put it on the Internet?”

My mother owing alimony to the world’s worst deadbeat former husband would be a real twist. But I was sure that if some mixed-up judge had issued such an order, we could find a lawyer to take her case and see that belated justice was done.

“Susan, there is no need to be flippant. I would never prance naked or any other way with Reverend Whitfield, especially not with a camera trained on me. He is married, after all and I am a lady.” Mama stared over my head. A red flush spread across her face.

“But alimony would most likely mean that there was once a marriage and now there is a divorce. I’m afraid that is not the case.”

“No divorce?” DeLorean nearly tipped over the teapot. “You mean you and my father aren’t divorced? Why in the world would you stay married to someone like him? Mama, he may be my father, but he’s not a good husband. Get rid of him and move on.”

“No, dear, that is not what I mean.”

Wheels turned in my head. A thought formed on top of a pile of other thoughts, flattening the whole pile with its weight, and then I felt my eyes try to bug out of my head. DeLorean was a fraction of a second ahead of me.

“You never married,” she said, speaking while I was still trying to formulate a coherent response.

I bobbed my head up and down. Taking in that kind of news was like finding out the pope was Jewish. “Mama that’s impossible,” I added stupidly.

DeLorean held out her hands and gazed at them, as though she’d just discovered her real identity. In a way, I supposed she had. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she wailed. “Is he even my father? Oh, God, the postman we used to have, that guy who looked like a fat frog with glasses and wore postman shorts a couple of sizes too small. He has hair the same color as mine. Tell me it isn’t him. Please, Mama.”

Mama sent DeLorean the most withering look I’d ever seen. “I will expect an apology from you after you are done hearing me out, young lady.”

DeLorean shifted in her chair so much I wondered if she’d sat on a pin. I braced myself for more hysterics, but she managed to get a grip. The need for answers apparently outweighed her need to emote.

“I always intended to explain, to tell you girls the truth and yet the right time never arrived.” Mama sipped at her tea. She still avoided looking directly at DeLorean. Maybe she feared a death ray would shoot out of my sister’s eyes and nail her. By now, I was fearing the same thing.

“How could you do this to me? Time doesn’t arrive, like a package at the door or something. You schedule time. Don’t you know anything, Mama?” DeLorean jumped to her feet and balled up her fists.

She whirled and flounced out of the room like a little kid who’d been denied a treat. I turned back to my mother and raised an eyebrow. “I must say, I’m shocked.” Okay, I didn’t mean to turn one of Mama’s pet phrases on her. Shock made me do it.

“I thought Philip and I were married, Susan. I really did. I mean, there was a ceremony, a cake. You remember, don’t you?” Mama pleaded.

I’d gotten sick after eating three pieces of wedding cake. Mama and Philip had left for their weekend honeymoon in Savannah and I’d stayed with one of Mama’s church friends who’d spent the evening complaining about the mess I’d made. “Uh, yeah. I remember.”

“Philip insisted on getting married at his friend’s home instead of at the church and I agreed; I thought he was a good man and I did love him after all, and it seemed silly to refuse to honor his wishes. Another friend who was a preacher performed the ceremony, and it wasn’t until after DeLorean was born that I found out the marriage wasn’t legal. His friend wasn’t a real preacher. He was just an electrician who lived in a trailer somewhere around Moncks Corner. I felt so stupid—and so humiliated. If I didn’t have you girls, I don’t know how I’d have managed to keep on living.”

“So he eventually told you it was all fake. You could have married him when you learned the truth.” Although by then, she knew what he was really like and would have known it would be a mistake to keep him.

“Actually, Philip didn’t tell me. His wife did.” She pulled at a thread on the bottom of her sweater and watched without expression as half an inch of yarn unraveled and spiraled across her front like tangled lavender hair.

I choked on my tea, dribbled it onto my blouse, snorted it out my nose. “His wife?” When had my voice gone from alto to a thin squawk?

“They were from Arkansas. Philip had sneaked out on Lurlene a few years before he came to Charleston and met me, and she wanted him back. I never did understand her motivation because goodness knows, he is a horrible man. But I suppose she wanted him around to wreak vengeance, not that I approve of vengeance, you know that is not good Christian behavior. Still, a person can imagine wanting to punish a straying man. I admit I entertained some thoughts about exactly what I’d do to Mr. Beauchamp if I were not a well-bred southern lady. And Lurlene was not a kind woman, not kind at all. I certainly would not want to be mixed up with Lurlene Beauchamp. My, the scene she created in our living room and the language, you would have thought drunken sailors were loose in the house. Thank goodness you were in school. Lurlene became truly enraged when she found out about DeLorean. I really thought she was going to rip me to pieces, but fortunately she came to believe me when I insisted I hadn’t known Philip was married. As it turned out, what he wanted was what was left of the insurance settlement I got after your father’s death. I am very sorry to admit, he spent a substantial part of my money without me finding out. But I am not a cheating woman who will steal someone’s husband, Susan. At least not on purpose.”

“Of course, you aren’t.” I gave her shoulder a comforting pat. “Still, there’s no reason for you to give Philip money. That’s extortion. Anyway, he isn’t even your husband, never was, never will be.”

Poor Mama. She’d lived with her secret all these years and it must have been killing her. Impulsively I leaned forward and pulled her into a hug. Mama was never the hugging type, but she rested her head on my shoulder and held onto me like a barnacle clinging to a rock.

“Mama, I’m so sorry you got into all this trouble with Philip. He’s nothing but a cheap con man, and you deserve so much better. You’re a good woman, a person with solid values, and don’t let anyone tell you different. I love you.”

She sniffled. “Thank you. Your understanding means so much to me.”

I hugged her tighter and emitted a few sniffles of my own. My mother was judgmental, a meddler and could be the most annoying person on the planet. But when it came down to basics, no one loved her offspring—children--more than Mama did.

“Let go now, dear. I can’t breathe.”

“Sorry.” I dropped my arms to my sides. “You don’t have to live your life letting Philip harass you.”

“Don’t you see? He found out I am seeing Rhett and he says he will tell Rhett everything. I will simply die if that wonderful man finds out I am an adulterer.”

I whooshed my breath out and sucked in an even deeper helping of oxygen. “You are not an adulterer. It wasn’t your fault Philip was married to someone else and he lied to you about his friend being a minister. And if Rhett doesn’t care enough to understand that, then he isn’t the right man for you.”

“That is a very easy thing for you to say, miss. But at my age, men of any kind, let alone a good man like Rhett, are not easily come by. Under the circumstances, I can’t marry Rhett. But I’m tired of being lonely. I do not want to end up like Edna Vincent, bless her heart.” Mama whipped a handkerchief out of her pocket and dabbed her eyes.

Edna Vincent was one of Mama’s friends. She’d gone home from church one Sunday and dropped dead in her bedroom and no one found her for four days. Her parakeet nearly starved to death before Edna’s niece came by to bring her some pound cake and found Edna’s body.

I got up and paced to the fireplace and back. “You are not going to end up like Edna Vincent. And I’m pretty sure Rhett won’t dump you if you tell him the truth, not if he’s the man you say he is.”

“Pretty sure is not good enough. I’m not willing to take that chance and end up permanently lonely.” Uncharacteristically, Mama wouldn’t look me in the eyes.

“Mama, you are a good woman and I love you and I’m going to find out a way out of this mess for you. I don’t want you to suffer because of a worm like Philip Beauchamp.”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

I opened my mouth to continue the argument and Mama raised her hand, stopping me cold. “Please ask your sister to come back and let me tell her the whole story.”

“Sure, I’ll ask her, but I can’t make her listen.”

I slogged upstairs to get my sister. I thought back to the day Mama had told me and DeLorean that she’d changed her name back to Marsh and officially changed DeLorean’s last name from Beauchamp to Marsh. That would have been the perfect time for her to tell us the truth, but instead she came up with the story about how we would be closer as a family if we all had the same last name. And we’d believed her for all these years.

After she found out about Mama’s faux wedding, DeLorean would fuss for a few days and act mortally wounded and then she and Mama would cry and say how much they loved each other no matter what. I couldn’t wait. Until that event came to pass, life at Susan’s was not exactly going to be fun and games.

I planned to sit around for the rest of the evening and mope about Jack and try to puzzle out a solution to the Mama and Philip drama. Then I decided to power up my computer to check my email and rediscovered the packet Veronica had mailed me last week sitting on my desk. I was sure she expected me to have all the work completed when she called me again, probably tomorrow, and if I hadn’t been so busy solving problems for my family all weekend, I wouldn’t be so far behind.

Muttering under my breath at the unfairness of it all, I settled myself in my office and sorted through the million or so papers. Plans for the ghost tours. Copies of advertisements along with lists of phone numbers of publications where I could place ads. Lists and pictures of period furniture Veronica wanted me to hunt up and buy. But nothing I could do until tomorrow, except for writing up a script for a proposed tour of a Charleston cemetery and the house and starting the work of penning the brochure Veronica wanted about the Blackthorn House.