Southern comfort, p.11
Southern Comfort, page 11
Realizing the opportunity, Rachel reached for the nearby cordless telephone. She scrunched down on the floor next to an end table where she wouldn’t be easily seen. She punched in Julia’s number. There was no answer. Believing she may have entered the wrong number, she tried again. There was still no answer.
Rachel put the phone down and pushed aside the curtains to look out the window. Visibility was poor through the old glass, and the angle was even worse. She couldn’t see Julia’s house from here. Hearing her parents returning to the house spurred her into action, and she scrambled to her feet to finish packing Gordon’s case.
“Did you get all of the baby’s things from upstairs?” her mother asked her.
“I think so,” Rachel said.
“Go on upstairs and look”
The impatience in her mother’s voice propelled Rachel through the rest of the packing. Her father loaded their station wagon while Ross went through every room closing and locking all the windows, then drawing all the shades and blinds. Her mother dusted and vacuumed, making sure that their rented house was left in exactly the clean and neat condition in which they’d found it upon arrival almost a month earlier.
“I don’t want anybody talking behind our back that we don’t know how to act in someone else’s home,” her mother had said often during their stay.
Rachel had asked her parents the year before why they couldn’t buy a house on the Beach. Her mother’s response had been a flat and final “We can’t afford it.” So Rachel had decided that she was going to save all her allowance and buy a house of her own one day on Highland Beach.
When it came time to pack her own things, Rachel dawdled over all the things she’d acquired that summer, many of them from Julia. There was an old LP album from a Broadway musical called Timbuktu. Julia said she’d performed in it. She examined the old pocket mirror with the cover done in petit point. She’d found it at a local garage sale Julia had taken her to. She’d bought an old crocheted drawstring purse for her mother, even though there was a small hole in the bottom.
Then, way before she was ready, her father announced that it was time to go.
In a panic Rachel hung back, claiming a last-minute need to use the bathroom. She could see the suspicion in her mother’s eyes as she returned to the house. Once inside, alone, Rachel headed for the telephone again.
There was still no answer at the house down the way. Finally, Rachel knew she was going to have to leave Highland Beach without saying good-bye to Julia. While using the bathroom she heard the car horn blast twice, reminding her that everyone was waiting for her.
In the car Rachel prayed that her father would take Chesapeake Road to get back to the main street heading out of Highland and Venice Beach. That way they’d have to pass the house where Julia lived. But, as her father had suspected, Julia wasn’t home because the house was dark. The family wagon drove down Wayman Avenue, past the children’s playground with the Chesapeake Bay in the background.
Unexpectedly, Rachel saw Julia on the side of the road, standing near a corner and waiting, waiting for her, Rachel was sure. She recognized Julia’s Chinese paper umbrella. Rachel loved that umbrella because no one else had one like it. They drove closer and Julia waved at the car.
“Look! I think she’s wearing the earrings I made her,” Rachel said.
Nonetheless, her father drove past Julia without giving her a chance to say good-bye. Rachel turned in her seat to stare out the back window at the fading figure. She heard her name faintly, carried on the breeze, as Julia shouted good-bye.
“Daddy, could you stop for just a—”
“No,” her mother interrupted. “Turn around and sit down.”
But she didn’t, watching through the rain-streaked window as Julia continued to wave languidly at the departing car. Like a greeting, not a farewell. Rachel waved back at her with both hands until the car turned a corner and Julia was gone.
No one in the car said a word. Ross was already engrossed in a magazine, pretending not to notice. For a while the only sounds were those of the windshield wipers, the rain, and Gordon’s babbling from the front seat as he sat on their mother’s lap.
“We should be home in a couple of hours,” her father told them.
“Good. I’m sure glad to be leaving,” her mother said.
“We could have stayed. We would be leaving in three days anyway,” her father said.
“Of course, you would say so,” her mother responded.
“I wish we could have stayed the whole summer,” Rachel said, slouching in her seat and searching for a book to read.
“That’s ’cause you like Julia Winters,” Ross spoke up.
Her mother sucked her teeth impatiently. “I am sick of hearing about that woman.”
“I think she’s a little crazy,” Ross voiced his opinion.
“She’s nice,” Rachel defended, angry at both comments. She leaned forward to talk across her father’s shoulder while he concentrated on his driving. “You like her, don’t you, Daddy?” Rachel asked.
“She’s an interesting woman,” he spoke carefully.
“But you like her, too, right?” she persisted.
“Rachel, enough,” her mother said.
Rachel stopped. But not for long. “Julia says I’m talented. She says I should study art.”
“You can’t even draw,” Ross chuckled, as if the idea was totally ludicrous.
“Shut up,” she demanded.
Rachel stared forlornly out the window, watching as all the stores and businesses leading into Highland Beach gave way to Route 50 heading back toward DC. Miraculously, her mind was soon busy with the anticipation of all the things she wanted to try once she got home, things that Julia had showed her how to do. And she was going to start a journal. Julia has said that every girl should have a journal because it was a wonderful way to keep secrets and write down things you didn’t want to ever forget.
“I can’t wait until next summer,” she said.
“What’s happening next summer?” her father asked, glancing at her in his rearview mirror.
“We’re coming back to Highland Beach.”
“Oh, no. I don’t think so,” her mother declared.
Rachel sat straight. Her mother couldn’t mean it.
“Did you hear what I said? We’re not coming back next summer.”
“Why?” Rachel asked.
“That’s okay with me,” Ross said. “There’s nothing to do here. I’d rather stay home with my friends next summer.” It was a subtle reminder that in a year he’d be graduating high school.
“We don’t know what we’re doing next summer. Let’s try to get through the rest of this one, first,” her father said.
“We’re not coming back,” Lydia Givens repeated. “I mean it.”
Rachel didn’t know what she would do if her mother was serious. How was she going to change her mind? She’d already told Julia that she’d be back. They’d already made plans.
She resolved that she would help more with Gordon. She wouldn’t complain or give her mother back talk or a hard time when she was told to do something. She’d do well in school. She’d go to Sunday School.
She spent the rest of the drive home coming up with countless ideas that would make it possible for her to return. She wanted to spend all her summers on Highland Beach, forever.
Rachel braced her arms behind her and leaned back, tilting her face up to the sun. Very little had changed. Although she remembered that there used to be more sand, coastal storms might have eroded the beach over the years. It didn’t matter. She was finally back. She’d been hoping for this moment for twenty years.
She heard nothing but the sounds of nature. There was no one out walking, no roaming dogs, no one on the beach but herself. There was not even a visible sailboat on the water. For just that moment Rachel believed that she was the only human being in the universe. She finally stood, wanting to shout out to the world. Instead, she did something more outrageous.
Without a lot of thought, Rachel took a position with her legs spread wide and her arms straight out to the side at shoulder height. Taking one big breath she let her body fall to the right, reaching for the ground with her hands as she swung her legs into the air and rolled into a cartwheel. She giggled when she landed shakily, but on her feet. Giddy with success, she tried again. After the brief handstand her arms gave out and she collapsed. With a small squeal, she landed in an ungraceful heap in the sand.
“Very smart, Rachel,” she chastised herself. She sat brushing sand out of her hair and from her clothing. Behind her she heard what sounded like clapping. Rachel glanced over her shoulder.
At the top of the steps leading back into Julia’s house stood Lucas.
Seven
“BRAVO,” LUCAS SHOUTED, ENDING his applause.
He wasn’t surprised that Rachel didn’t react. He knew she wasn’t aware she had an audience for her little maneuver. He leaned against the handrail of the back steps and waited for Rachel to join him.
She took her time, brushing the sand from her printed Capri slacks and sleeveless white summer blouse as she approached, barefoot with sandals in hand. He used the time to admire her lithe, agile body, giving Rachel kudos for being comfortable in her own skin. He’d noticed that in the attorney’s office. Seeing her again reminded him that, as far as he could tell, Rachel Givens was pretty straightforward and uncomplicated. Watching her as she’d performed the cartwheel had raised his respect for her.
She was taking her time walking back to the house. He wondered if it was her way of showing how little she cared about what he thought of her, or her lack of surprise at seeing him. Or maybe something else was going on.
One thing was for sure, Rachel had succeeded in surprising him for the second time since meeting her. She seemed to have a strong sense of self-confidence. She was animated and playful. She was fearless. Lucas knew that the basis for her strength had to have come from a family where she felt safe and loved.
She reached the steps but stood at the bottom staring up at him. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I’m fine, thanks. It’s nice to see you again, too,” he said.
“You didn’t say you were coming up this week,” Rachel complained, starting to climb the stairs.
“I didn’t know I had to check in with you. For that matter, you didn’t tell me what your plans were, either,” Lucas reasoned.
Now that she was closer Lucas could see that Rachel hadn’t gotten rid of all the sand. There was still some in her hair, which the wind off the Bay had rearranged into something wild and rather becoming. He decided not to point it out to her.
“I was staying with my mother just outside of Baltimore. Since I was already nearby, I thought it was a good time to come and get those things Julia left for me. I have a lot to catch up on at home and I need to get back soon. At least for a while,” she quickly corrected.
“Where’s home?” Lucas asked, not moving from his perch on the railing and knowing that she was waiting for him to. Something perverse in him wanted to see if she would ask.
“New York,” she answered.
“New York. I like New York. It’s a great place to hang out.”
“That’s about what I think of it, too,” Rachel said. She slowly rubbed her upper arm.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Lucas asked her suddenly.
“What?”
“When you came out of that cartwheel you landed pretty hard,” he observed.
“I’m okay. It wasn’t a very smart thing to do.”
“I thought it was very brave. You didn’t seem to care how you looked.”
“Do me a favor. Don’t tell me how I looked doing it, okay?”
“Fine. I was going to pay you a compliment,” Lucas told her.
“Now why would you do that?”
“Because you deserve one. I would have been afraid of looking like a fool. You weren’t, and you didn’t.”
Lucas had the small satisfaction of having caught her off-guard with his remark. Rachel didn’t have a comeback.
“Do you mind?”
He gave in and moved out of her way, his gaze following her into the house. So he wasn’t going to be there alone after all.
His decision to come to Highland Beach had been fairly spontaneous. He saw the advantage in doing it that way because planning would have led to anticipation. And anticipation would have gotten him all wound up inside again over the fact that he’d never been to Julia’s house before. When he got there he was surprised to find a car on the property. The house was open, but no one was around. Lucas guessed that it had to be Rachel.
In a way he was glad. Being there alone, he realized, might have led him to the kind of deep reflection and rehashing of the past that would have made for a miserable stay. Rachel didn’t have a clue that she was making it easy for him, and he wasn’t going to let her know.
He could hear her movements inside. Clearly she knew her way around. He knew that on Highland Beach and in Julia’s house, he was a total stranger, if not there under false pretenses. But he also wondered if Julia’s leaving him part of her house wasn’t going to turn out to be some sort of cruel purgatory.
Lucas wasn’t sure where to begin the business of learning about Julia. He wasn’t ready to go inside and be surrounded by her things. He wasn’t ready to be sociable with Rachel as if they were both there for a friendly visit. Instead, he started down the steps and stopped to look up and down the street. He picked one direction and began walking.
Lucas took in the setting of the community, hugged against the edge of the Chesapeake. His gaze swept over the size and details of the late Victorian-era houses that blended well with more contemporary designs. He began to enjoy the spectacular view.
He’d done his homework. He discovered that Highland Beach dated back to 1893, when the twenty-six acres that make up the community were purchased by the son of Frederick Douglass. Over the last century, Highland Beach had been the summer home or host to some of the most preeminent black talent of the Harlem Renaissance, and had been nurtured and maintained by outstanding black professionals. Julia had found a place for herself here. But could he?
Lucas began to breathe deeply, easier. He’d come to Highland Beach imagining the worst, and maybe that was still to come. But he allowed himself an ironic smile. What, exactly, had he been afraid of?
Perhaps there were no ghosts here, after all.
Okay, so I wasn’t expecting Lucas to turn up. Rachel tried to calm herself. That was no reason for her to behave like he was trespassing, or that he was in the way. Or that he was the devil incarnate. As a matter of fact, she knew that Lucas could make a pretty compelling case for having more right to be there than she did. That only made her ask herself for about the hundredth time, what had Julia been thinking?
Lucas’s sudden presence had rattled her. His witnessing that embarrassing display on the beach added to her annoyance. The dark shades may have blocked his eerie gray-green eyes, but she knew that he was trying to dig past her defenses and search out her weak spots. She wasn’t going to make it easy.
The joy of having the house to herself was gone, but she decided she wasn’t going to let Lucas undermine her right to be there after so many years away, or deny her what Julia wanted her to have.
Rachel found the painting still hanging on the wall in the living room. When she saw it, she again experienced all the reasons why she liked it. It was small and simple and sweet. It depicted two very young black children on the beach, standing in water up to their ankles. They held hands and were bent forward staring at their reflection in the wet sand made as the water washed away from the shore. She carefully removed it from the wall, carrying it to the window where she could examine it under direct light. The picture was one more tangible evidence of the great appeal of Highland Beach, and she was suddenly infused with a deep gratitude that she’d been fortunate enough to have had many summers here. And maybe her mother was right. Maybe Julia was trying to make up for her part in what ultimately happened that last summer that changed all of their lives forever.
Finding the box proved more of a challenge. Julia had more than a dozen stored all over the house, most filled with memorabilia Julia had saved from her early career as a singer and actress. Some boxes were filled with old clothing and household items, clearly earmarked for donation to charity. Rachel found the box with her name written on it in blue marker at the bottom of a hall closet.
She removed it to the living room along with the painting. There, she found that Lucas had left a weekend duffel, and that he’d brought his saxophone as well. She wondered where he’d gone off to, but appreciated that she had some time by herself in the house.
In the meantime, she looked through the box. Inside she found some of the projects and crafts she had constructed during many summers. There were books, boxes of card games, crayons, and plastic molding clay. There was a long flowered box that Rachel didn’t remember, and when she opened it she found the beautiful lace fan that she’d always admired. She took it out and spread it open, fanning herself. With a smile she remembered pretending to be a Spanish dancer while Julia played flamenco guitar music on her cassette player.
When Rachel heard voices and laughter outside, she went to the window to investigate. She peered out just as Lucas was coming back into view. He had stripped off his polo shirt and tucked it by the hem into the back of the waistband of his jeans. His torso was thin but muscular, and there was a patch of dark curly hair across his chest which funneled in a thin line down to his navel. She was surprised to suddenly see Lucas casually half-dressed. Rachel stared in fascination, baldly enjoying the view.
Lucas carried his athletic shoes while strolling in his bare feet, as she had done earlier. The legs of his jeans were wet up to his knees, and it was obvious that he’d walked through the water on the beach. And he’d picked up company along the way. He was accompanied by two attractive black women about her own age. Rachel was incredulous that in about an hour or so these two woman had managed to find and attach themselves to Lucas. Or vice versa. But she also noticed that he seemed to be enjoying himself, demonstrating a gregariousness she had not seen before. If he was not flirting, he was at least being incredibly charming.
