Sins of the Fathers (14 page)

“Perhaps he should consider building somewhere else,” Katharine suggested. “There’s a lot of undeveloped land on the island.”

“Not cleared and with a road already to it. Burch needs that site.”

“I won’t hold him up one hour longer than is necessary,” Dr. Flo assured her, “but I must warn you that unless your husband has firm proof those are
not
my relatives, if he attempts to move any of the three without my signature, I will sue. Is that clear? Good night, Mrs. Bayard.”

“You…you…” Mona lunged.

She grabbed Dr. Flo’s shoulders with muscular fingers and shook her as if she were a small rag doll. “You cannot do this to us. Do you understand? You can
not
. We have got to build those houses!”

The silver afro jerked back and forth. Dr. Flo could not pull away. Katharine seized Mona’s arms and tried to break her grip, but the woman was made of hard muscle and frenzy.

“Chase!” Katharine cried.

He pounded up the sidewalk and grabbed his mother from behind. His fingers were vises on her forearms. “Stop, Mama! Come on. It’s time to go home.” His voice was rough, angry. “I have math to study.”

Mona grew still. She stared, wide-eyed, from Dr. Flo to Katharine, then pressed both palms to her cheeks. “Omigod! I can’t believe I did that. I am sorry! I am
so sorry
!”

Dr. Flo reached up and massaged one shoulder.

“Please forgive me,” Mona begged. “I never did anything like that before. But if you just knew—” She stared for a moment longer, then whirled and sprinted down the walk toward the Mercedes parked at the curb.

Dr. Flo went into the house.

Chase gave Katharine an apologetic little shrug.

“Goodnight,” she told him.

“Goodnight.”

They looked at each other for a moment of mutual embarrassment before he headed toward their car. By the time Katharine returned to the house and shut the door, Dr. Flo had already gone to her room.

Katharine was fast asleep when the phone by her bed clamored for attention. She fumbled for it and muttered a drowsy, “Hello?”

She heard a hissed whisper with a thick drawl. “You are in dangah! Stay away from Bayard Island!”

“Who is this?”

“A friend. Stay away from Bayard Island or your lives will be in danger! You have been warned!” Whoever it was hung up.

Katharine propped herself on one elbow and looked at the clock. It read 11:57. “Chase or Miranda,” she muttered. “Had to be.”

But no matter how much she tried to tell herself the call was nothing but a prank, she lay awake for more than an hour listening to the surf and piecing together everything that had happened that very long day. It was hard to believe that thirty-six hours before, she had never heard of Bayard Island. Had it only been yesterday that she had told her little pig that she’d prefer anything to nightmares and fixing up the house?

Wednesday on Bayard Island

Agnes’s Honda jolted over ruts in sand and shell while Samson slobbered out the passenger window. Seeing Chase on the road ahead, gun in one hand, she slowed. “Don’t you shoot game on my property. You hear me?”

“No, ma’am, but it’s not your property. It’s Daddy’s property.”

“That’s what he thinks. I’ve found the deed to that land. We’ll see what a lawyer—a real lawyer, not that scum your daddy hired—says about it. But my quarrel’s not with you. If you want to come down tomorrow, I’ll help you with algebra.”

Chase nodded. They both knew he needed help. He’d failed first year algebra and the school had said he’d need to pass a competency test in September or repeat it in the coming year.

If, of course, he got to go back at all.

“I’ll probably come in the afternoon.” Might as well put it off as long as he could.

“See you then.” Agnes flapped a hand out the window as she drove away.

“Cooter, let’s go hunting this afternoon.” With one horny nail Dalton Bayard scratched his jaw just under his chin. “I reckon it’s ’bout time for a shave, first. These whiskers’re beginning to itch in this blasted heat.”

Mona insisted that Dalt bathe and shave once a week whether he needed it or not, but most of the year he resisted—more out of principle than conviction. In July, though, a bath and a shave felt as good as a dip in the ocean.

He caught a fleeting sight of himself in the mirror and peered again. Who was that old man? How had the handsomest man in McIntosh County—handsomer in his day than Burch or Chase either one—how had he deteriorated to this? Dalt turned his head this way and that, checking out the scrawny neck, jutting chin, pouches under his eyes, and eyebrows that had sprouted until they looked like dabs of Spanish moss stuck to his forehead.

“Getting old is a bitch,” he growled.

“Better than the alternative,” Cooter reminded him. “You still look pretty good unless’n you open your mouth.”

In his eighty years, Dalt had admitted to only one fear. That one, he boasted about: “I’d rather tolerate toothache than face a dentist’s drill.” Nobody had ever convinced him that dentistry had evolved since his youth into an almost painless process. He knew, though, that he was no longer handsome when he smiled.

He turned from the mirror and headed to the shower. “Might as well take a bath while I’m at it. We going hunting later?”

Cooter hesitated. “Burch ain’t keen on you toting a gun when you been drinking.”

“I can still outshoot him. But you can shoot today. I’ll spot the game.”

“Where you studying on going?”

Dalt snickered. “Thought we’d mosey down past Agnes’s.”

“You know she don’t ’low no shooting on her land.”

“It’s not her land. It’s my land. And down there, we might sight us something so big, even you can’t miss it.”

Mona, sitting on the marsh-side porch with her second cup of coffee, looked up in surprise at tires crunching on their driveway. When her husband mounted the steps, she frowned. “I thought you were going to be in Savannah until tomorrow or Friday.”

Burch slung his jacket across one chair and sank into another. He rubbed his head and sighed. She suspected he was hung over. Was he starting in like his daddy? That fear haunted her day and night. She could tolerate almost anything but a drunk.

She looked back to see him studying her. “I thought I ought to come back and check on what you were up to while I was away.”

She drew back. “Nothing I shouldn’t be.”

“Keep it that way. I got a few things to do around here, then I’ll be heading back.”

“What time will you be home Friday?” She tried to sound casual, but she had an appointment with a Savannah golf pro she desperately wanted to keep.

Before he could answer, Chase came running up the drive, gasping for breath. “Daddy! I’m so glad you’re home.” He slammed the screened door behind him and fell into a chair, dropping his gun with a
clunk
beside him.

“You know better than to run with that gun.” Mona’s voice was sharp. An expert shot since childhood, she still shuddered to see a gun in the hands of her son.

Chase panted for a moment, then shook his head. “It’s not loaded. Listen, Daddy, I just saw Agnes on her road, and she’s found the deed her granddaddy and Papa Dalt’s granddaddy signed. She says it gives her the land!”

Dalt stumbled onto the porch from inside, smelling of soap and rubbing his rosy chin. “Nobody ever gave Agnes anything. Dried up old prune, she’d have been a better woman if they had.” He cackled at his own wit.

Chase looked from his grandfather to his father. “She’s not going to let you build where the old church was. Says that land is hers.”

Burch looked from his father to his wife. “Looks like somebody better talk sense to Agnes, one way or another. Any volunteers?”

Nell looked across the lunch table at Miranda. “And where were you last night, missy? When I said you could borrow my van, I didn’t mean for you to come creeping into the house after midnight. Did you know she was that late, Mama?”

Iola nodded. “You know I don’t sleep until she’s in.”

“So where were you?” Nell demanded.

Miranda swept her hair behind her ears with a shrug that bordered on insolence. “Over at Miss Agnes’s, where I said I’d be. She was helping me with geometry.”

“You weren’t studying geometry until midnight.”

The truth of that made Miranda sulky. “No, we were looking for some old deed. That place of hers is plumb full of stuff, and she got it into her head she wanted to find the deed before she went to bed. We turned out practically every drawer in the place.”

“Did you find what she was looking for?” Iola reached for another handful of cold fries. Neither of the women liked to cook, so one of them generally ran into Eulonia and brought back fast food for everybody. That afternoon they sat at a table out behind the store, fanning flies and chewing hamburgers that had gotten soggy on the long ride out of town.

“Sure did.” Miranda tossed the pickle from her hamburger onto the sand. “She claims it means Burch can’t build his houses in the clearing. She’s gonna get a lawyer and take him to court if he tries!” She finished her drink with a strong
slurp
on the straw.

Nell took the last fry. “You know as well as anybody that won’t stop Burch long. He’ll find a way to get what he wants. Bayards always do.”

Miranda huffed. “Gloomy-Gus. I still think it’s great.”

Iola pushed back from the table. “It’s none of our business, is what it is. Time to get back to work, girls.”

Nell wheeled herself toward her van muttering, “What would I give to leave this godforsaken place?”

Miranda returned to shelving canned goods, hoping nobody asked Miss Agnes what time she had left the night before.

Agnes was shelling peas on her front porch into a blue bowl that had been her grandmother’s. A bucket on the floor held unshelled peas, and a newspaper on her lap caught the pods. When the goats bleated and Samson started to bark, she looked up, curious, then laid the newspaper on the table and stood in surprise. Calling a greeting, she stomped down her front steps to meet the unexpected visitor.

The moss in the oaks quivered at the sound of a shot.

Wednesday on Jekyll Island

By mutual agreement, Katharine and Dr. Flo did not mention Bayard Island or the Guilberts that precious day at the beach. Dr. Flo’s laptop stayed in its case. Dr. Flo, however, grew moody toward sundown. Fearing she might be getting bored, Katharine suggested as they came back to the house after her final swim, “Shall we go out for a scrumptious seafood feast?”

The professor grimaced and shook her head. “I’ve got a little headache from all that sun and am pretty sore from getting shaken up last night. Why don’t you go? I’ll just nibble cheese and crackers. I don’t feel much like eating.”

Katharine was relieved. She had only suggested a restaurant because she thought Dr. Flo might prefer to eat out. Delighted not to have to get beautiful for other people, she pulled back on the shorts and shirt she’d worn all day and padded down the stairs. Her favorite supper was already available in the kitchen: shrimp boiled in beer from Wrens’s bar, hush puppies from a mix in the pantry, and a salad.

“Don’t you want some?” she coaxed when the shrimp was pink.

“Maybe just a bite. It does smell good,” Dr. Flo admitted.

The food seemed to do her good. Katharine was glad to see her refill her plate. “I don’t want you getting sick on me,” she scolded, smiling to take away the sting.

Dr. Flo gave her a slight smile in return. “I’m feeling better. Maybe I was just hungry.”

They carried bowls of strawberry ice cream to the living room and watched TV. When an actor answered his cell phone, Katharine realized she hadn’t checked hers all day.

Hollis had called to report on purchases for Susan’s room. Hasty had called, saying, “Hope you’re having fun. See you Thursday.” And Tom had called three times, saying in obvious frustration the last time, “Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for two days.”

She headed upstairs for privacy to talk to Tom.

As she dialed his number, she remembered how she had waited for his calls when he was at Georgetown and she at Agnes Scott. If she had realized then that long-distance dating was setting the pattern for their whole lives, would she have married him?

“Don’t go there,” she warned as she waited for him to answer.

“Are you all right?” His voice was anxious. He, too, had been affected by their two break-ins. He was more protective than he used to be.

“I’m fine. Didn’t you get my message? I called your office yesterday morning and told Louise I was coming down to Posey’s cottage until tomorrow, with Dr. Flo Gadney.”

“That’s odd. I asked her to try the house a couple of times today and she never mentioned you had called.”

“Maybe she’s getting senile.” Louise was twenty-seven.

“She’s been real busy pulling together reports.”

They had this conversation at least once a month. Tom refused to believe Louise would deliberately fail to give him Katharine’s messages. Katharine was convinced she did.

“Are you having a good time?”

“Wonderful. The ocean is fantastic—warm as bath water, with perfect waves. And we had the most incredible afternoon yesterday, too. We met an angel…”

“Hon,” he interrupted her. “I don’t like to cut you off, but I’m in the middle of dinner with some people. Can I call you back around eleven?”

“Call tomorrow night,” she suggested quickly. “I’ll be back home by then.”

She didn’t really need to tell him about the pirate’s grave, the rattlesnake, the Bayard and Stampers families, or Agnes and her gun. To Tom, they would simply be stories, nothing to do with his life. Nevertheless, she felt sad as she turned off the phone and headed back downstairs.

She found Dr. Flo on the deck. “Isn’t that lovely?” She gestured without turning. The rising moon, full and deep orange, shed a golden path across the water. “It’s like one of heaven’s golden streets. If I had the courage, I’m certain I could step out onto the water and walk straight to Maurice. He’d give me that teasing smile and say, ‘Hey, Flo-baby, what took you so long?’” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Sometimes I miss him so much. We had such fun—and such dreams for our retirement.”

Katharine joined her at the rail. “How long did you have together after he retired?”

“He never did retire. He planned to leave his practice soon after I retired, but—” she paused for a moment, as if remembering—“things came up. He kept putting it off. He took off most mornings the last few years, but he…he had things he was working on.”

Panic rose in Katharine. She and Tom talked about doing so much once he retired: seeing the world, sitting side by side in the evenings with their books, spending a month at a time up at the lake, renewing their scuba certification so they could dive together. Tom wanted to spend hours in his library, reading all the books he’d accumulated over the decades. Would they have time for all that? What if one of those bright young Louise look-alikes in Washington snagged his attention before then? Would she have spent her life waiting for a reward she never got?

Dr. Flo seemed to sense her thoughts. “How long until Tom retires?”

Katharine heaved a sigh full of the heaviness she felt. “Years and years. He’s not fifty yet. And like Maurice, he loves his work. He’ll probably keep at it as long as they let him, and I don’t know how well he’ll tolerate being home all the time.”

Dr. Flo reached over to pat her hand. “I pray you’ll have many healthy years together to do what you want.” She turned away. “For now, I’d better say goodnight. We have a long trip tomorrow, and I’m still sore. I cannot thank you enough for all of this.” She spread both slender hands to encompass the golden path of the moon, the restless sea, white clouds scudding across a deep gray sky, and the whisper of palms. “I cannot recall the last time I felt so refreshed.”

“I cannot thank you enough for giving me a reason to come.” They exchanged a quick hug before they separated to sleep.

Katharine sat by her window for nearly an hour, enjoying the water and thinking about the day. She was ready for bed when the phone rang. She grabbed it before it could waken Dr. Flo. A noisy, merry crowd almost drowned out a man’s slurred voice. “Ms. Gadney there?”

“Dr. Gadney has retired for the night. Is this important?”

“Real important.” The last word tied his tongue in knots, so he repeated it carefully. “Im-por-tant. I know who that woman was.”

“Which woman?” Katharine thought she recognized the voice, but the man was so drunk she could not be sure, especially with the crowd behind him.

“The woman in the summa…cemma…graveyard. My great-great—hell. I don’t know how many. Her cousin. Came to stay. Died. Up ’n’ died. Had to be buried. Sad. Was very sad.” Katharine suspected he was swaying with the words.

“I thought you said your family never had any mixed blood.”

“Mixed blood?” His voice rose belligerently. “I didn’t mention mixed blood. Did I mention mixed blood?” He sounded like he was asking somebody nearby. If he was as drunk as he sounded, he’d be falling off his bar stool any minute.

“Where are you?” She didn’t know why she asked. She didn’t have Mona’s number, and wasn’t as adept as Chase at finding personal information on the Internet.

“None of your business. That’s where I am. But I know who that woman was.”

Katharine spoke with slow deliberation. “We know who she was, too. She is in the 1880 census, and she was black. The Guilberts came from Haiti. Are you sure she was your cousin?”

She heard nothing but background merriment on the line, and wasn’t sure he understood.

He had understood enough to ask finally, “If she knows who the woman was, will she sign the damn papers?”

“I have no idea. Shall I have her call you first thing in the morning?”

“No. No, no, no, no. I’m in Savannah. Came up yesterday. On business. Boring business. Tell her to swing by Hayden’s and sign.”

“I’ll tell her you called. She’ll have to decide what she wants to do.”

He lowered his voice, his words thicker and more slurred. “You look like a sensible woman. Lemme level with you. I got a bastard of a father-in-law, okay? A bastard, but he’s got big bucks. Willing to help me out with my de—devel—houses, but I gotta prove it’s gonna work. You get me?” He waited for a reply.

“I get you. You have to sell two houses before he coughs up any money.”

His voice was sharp and suspicious. “How you know that?”

“Mona told me.”

“Oh, Mona. Just like her old man. Hard as nails. Made me put all my money into this. All of it, you understand? Nothing left for my kid’s education. Nothing left for booze. Gotta build two houses quick. Can’t wait around on some old black lady. Gotta get started. Tell her sign by Monday, okay? Monday at the latest. Gotta—”

“I’ll tell her. But what about Agnes? She claims she has a deed to the clearing.”

She heard the sound of a glass hitting the bar, as if he’d taken another swig. “Agnes idn’ gonna make trouble. I promise you that. So tell that old black lady she better not make trouble, either. You hear me? You tell her.”

“I’ll tell her,” Katharine promised. “But listen, you need to go to bed now. You’ve had enough to drink. Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

She heard a sound as if the receiver was hitting something again and again. Had he taken her advice and gone straight to bed without hanging up the phone? She went to bed enjoying the picture of the receiver swinging unnoticed all night. But she lay awake listening to the roar of the tide and thinking about the mess people can make of their lives when they consider themselves the center of the universe.

The roar of the surf in the night blended seamlessly with the roar of the surf in the morning. Katharine didn’t realize she had slept until she noticed the glare beyond her eyelids. She lay savoring the sound and a breeze that circled her room.
I haven’t had a nightmare since we got here
, she thought drowsily. That thought was followed immediately by,
Is there a word for nightmares that happen while you’re awake?

She stretched, wishing she could stay a month. Was there time for one more swim? She crossed the room to peer over the dune. The sky was a murky blue, as if the air was gathering itself together for a storm, but the waves rolled gently. “I will not think about going home until I have to,” she resolved, fetching her suit.

Dr. Flo wasn’t yet up, but there were enough people on the beach that she felt safe swimming alone. However, once she got in, she discovered that the incoming tide was meeting a strong wind. Together they broke the waves irregularly and too far out for her to get beyond them to ride the swells. She dodged breakers for a time, but after one crashed right over her and sent her choking and tumbling, she spat out salt water and decided it was time to go in. Several scrapes stung from where she had been dragged along the sand.

She slicked back her hair, draped her towel around her waist, and limped back to the house. Dr. Flo, with a cup of coffee and still in her robe, called from the deck, “Looks like the ocean won the battle.”

“You got that right.” Katharine turned and peered crossly out to sea. “It looks perfect from here, doesn’t it? But it’s treacherous when you get close.”

Dr. Flo rubbed one shoulder with a wry smile. “Like some folks we could name. I take comfort, though, in the fact that no matter what humans do to the land, they’ll never tame the sea. Are you ready for breakfast? I’ll fix it while you dress and put something on those scrapes.”

Refreshed, Katharine pulled on khaki slacks and a turquoise cotton top. When she got downstairs, Dr. Flo was putting eggs and bacon on the table. For their trip home she had dressed in a full yellow cotton skirt, an orange top that made her skin look like soft burnished copper, and yellow plastic flip-flops. Except for the silver hair, she could have been ten.
Dr. Flo has really gone casual since she retired,
Katharine thought with a smile.

“Burch Bayard called last night,” she reported as she buttered her toast. “Drunk as a pole cat and wanting to inform us that he had ‘discovered,’” she sketched quotes with her fingers, “that Marie Guilbert was the cousin of his many-greats grandmother.”

“Did you tell him what we found?”

“Yes. He immediately changed his tune. Wants you to stop by Hayden’s today and sign the papers, since you know who Marie was.”

Dr. Flo looked thoughtful as she poured two mugs of coffee. “You know, I think I might as well. I lay awake last night trying to think of any good reason not to sign, and I couldn’t think of one.” She held up her fingers to tick off facts. “We know Claude Gilbert lived with Marie, originally had the same surname, and they both came from Haiti sometime before 1880. That would explain the tradition that our people weren’t slaves. Since Claude’s dates fit what I have for my grandfather, don’t you think that’s enough confirmation for me to claim authority to move all three graves? What Burch does with his island is really none of my business. So if it’s not too far out of our way, I’d like to stop by Mr. Curtis’s office on the way home, sign the papers, and get it over with. Can you think of any reason why I shouldn’t?”

“Nothing except sheer cussedness.”

Dr. Flo flashed a smile. “There is that. Maybe I should reconsider.”

After breakfast there was nothing left to do except pack the car. “The only thing that makes leaving halfway bearable is that it looks like it’s going to storm,” Dr. Flo said as she looked regretfully at the water. “Let’s pretend they’re going to have dreadful weather for a week.”

She bought a paper while Katharine stopped by the realtor’s to thank Joye Folsom for her thoughtfulness in getting the house ready. As they drove across the causeway, Katharine was amused to notice that even though Dr. Flo no longer taught business, she still read the business section first. They were approaching I-95 before she reached the local news.

She gave an exclamation of dismay. “Katharine, can you believe it? Agnes is dead!”