The Beach House

Lovie cast her a sidelong glance, then walked inside the screened porch. She slid into a rocker with characteristic grace. “Sit down, Cara. We can talk a bit.”

Cara followed her into the porch. Lovie removed her cap and fanned her face as she rocked. Watching her, Cara suppressed a shudder. Her mother’s hair, once thick and the color of spun gold, was now so thin and white that in the harsh light her scalp could be seen. Cara licked her lips, shaken. “Can I get you some water?”

“No, I’m just about to go in and fix lunch. You must be famished.”

“Don’t go to any trouble for me while I’m here,” she said, grabbing her mug and sitting beside her mother. “I never eat regular meals anyway. My body is used to the abuse.”

“You’re far too thin. And pale.”

She laughed. “I was just thinking the same about you!”

“Oh?” Lovie’s blue eyes widened. “Well, who cares about me? I’m an old woman. But you’re in your prime!” Her gaze eagerly traveled across Cara’s face to her disheveled, shoulder-length brown hair cut in a blunt style. She wore the same wrinkled T-shirt that she’d arrived in over baggy, blue men’s boxers that exposed long, thin legs crossed at the ankles. “You always do find the best hairdressers,” she said. “But you look tired. And stressed. Especially your eyes. They’re all puffy and a bit bloodshot.”

“Charming,” Cara muttered as she sipped her coffee. She moved her hand to apply pressure to her forehead where she could feel tension building up.

“Are you ill? There’s been so much early summer flu going around.”

“No. It’s just an annoying headache.”

“Ahhh…So you still get them?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Mmmm-hmm. See? It is the stress. When you were little you used to get them whenever you had a test, do you remember? Or when…” She stopped midsentence.

“When Daddy blew his top,” Cara finished for her.

Her mother smiled weakly and an awkward silence reigned.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that you got a call while you were out.” Cara reached for her doughnut. “Some lady found tracks.”

“What time was that?”

“Hours ago. That girl inside took the call.”

“Oh, yes. That was the false crawl.” Then she asked pointedly, “That girl? I assume you mean Toy Sooner?”

Cara couldn’t keep her opinion from her face. “Toy? Is that her name?” She bit into the doughnut, sprinkling bits of glazed sugar down her chest. “We didn’t get that far,” she mumbled, chewing and brushing away the crumbs. “We snarled at each other like cats for a few minutes, then I left before any damage was done.” She reached for her coffee cup and took a quick sip. “Who is she, anyway? And isn’t she a bit young to be pregnant?”

Lovie studied her daughter’s face with the same expression she had worn when Cara was young and spoke with her mouth full. “Yes, she is young. Very young, poor dear. But these things happen, you know. Even in Charleston.”

Cara rolled her eyes and dabbed a napkin at her mouth. “Mother, I’m hardly shocked. I’m just curious what she’s doing here. Now, of all times.”

“During your visit, you mean?”

“Frankly, yes. It’s not like I come that often. What? Once every twenty years?” She bit into her doughnut and chewed. Swallowing hard she added with pique in her voice, “You led me to believe you wanted to spend some time with me. Fool that I was, I assumed you meant just us.”

“Cara, dear, let’s not start getting snippy. I did invite you to be here with me.”

“I see. So you invited this Toy person because…?”

“I didn’t invite her. She’s not a guest, Cara. She lives here. I couldn’t boot her out just because you were coming for a visit.”

“Lives here? Since when? The season’s only just begun.”

“Since I moved in last January. Toy came in March.”

“January? But you never come that early. Why would you leave your house to come stay out here in winter? Did you and Palmer have a fight?”

“No, Palmer and I did not have a fight. Why would you think that? But I couldn’t, or rather, I didn’t want to live alone at my age. So when I mentioned my situation to Flo she introduced me to Toy.” When Cara looked puzzled, Lovie asked, “You remember Florence Prescott from next door, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. The upbeat woman with a great shock of bright-red hair.”

“Yes, but the hair is white now. What you might not recall is that she worked for years as a social worker in Summerville. Flo spent the weekdays in an apartment there and fixed up the family’s old house on the island on weekends, vacations—whenever she could. Anyway, her mother grew quite frail and Flo finally decided it was time to retire and bring her mother home to live with her. Goodness, that must be ten years ago already. My, my, my, time flies so quickly. They’ve been such good friends. Lucky for me to have them next door.”

“Mother, what has this got to do with Toy?”

“I was getting to that. Flo still volunteers her time at the Women’s Shelter and one day while we were talking I told her about my wanting to live here on the island and how I should have a companion. She grew quite excited—you know how Flo gets—and told me about a young girl who would be perfect for the job.”

“You found her at the shelter?”

“You make it sound like she’s some dog I found at the pound,” Lovie scolded. “Yes, she was at the shelter, poor girl. That’s what it’s there for, thank the Lord. Women need a place to go to when they’re frightened for their well-being.”

“I know, I know. You’re preaching to the choir. I donate regularly to a shelter in Chicago.”

Her mother nodded in acknowledgement. “I’m not talking out of turn when I tell you Toy’s history. She and I discussed this and she agreed that it would be best for me to tell you. Toy found herself pregnant by her live-in boyfriend and she left him when he hit her.”

“Hit her?”

“Beat her, actually. The baby wasn’t hurt but Toy was frightened for it and left.”

“As well she should have. I give her high marks for that. But she’s so young to be living with a boyfriend and pregnant. What about her family?”

“Horrible people who wouldn’t take her back. They kicked her out, called her a tramp and other such cruel things you can only imagine then left her to fend for herself. Imagine, doing that to your own daughter.”

Cara could indeed imagine and felt a sudden sympathy for the girl. She knew how terrifying that scenario was. The city streets could be cold and mean to a young girl.

“How old can she be? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

“She’s almost eighteen, and precious. She looks quite young.”

A knot formed in Cara’s throat. “I left home at eighteen.”

Her mother startled. “Why, that was different, Cara. You chose to leave. Your father and I were against it, but you were always headstrong and so sure of yourself. Toy isn’t like that. She’s insecure, a mere child.”

Cara squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a sharp stab of hurt. She couldn’t look at the wide-eyed expression on her mother’s face nor believe she could say those words to her after what they’d put Cara through at the same age. How could Mama have forgotten that she, too, was kicked out of the house? Or had she merely preferred to forget?

“Toy had nowhere else to go,” Lovie tried to explain.