Authors: Kim Boykin
“I think I should stay, and you should tell me how you feel about this horrible thing that happened to you.”
“Oh, so now you’ve gone from playing doctor to psychiatrist?” I hissed.
“This isn’t about me, but you? You have a right to feel hurt, to feel betrayed; I can’t imagine everything you’re going through, but if what happened was enough to make you leave college a couple months shy of graduation, it must have torn your guts out. So, unless you ask me again, I won’t go. You don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to; just sit back down and be with me.”
N
ot good for you to stay in bed all the time, Miss Lurleen, but it’s equally important you don’t overdo it.
As worthless as Remmy was, his words stuck in Emily’s craw, making her feel hopeless. If Sister stayed in the bed and rested, she was going to die. If she got up and moved about, she was going to die.
Emily crawled into her own bed with her newspaper and a few magazines and let out a deep sigh. She cursed herself for forgetting her reading glasses, then realized they were on top of her head. She lowered them onto her nose and opened the newspaper.
More People Die by the Knife and the Fork Than by the Gun and Sword
the headline screamed. Wasn’t that the truth. Emily didn’t like Nettie, but she had enjoyed her cooking and hadn’t said anything to her about the salt for purely selfish reasons. She’d hated having to worry about feeding Sister something that might kill her as much as
she hated trying to add enough salt to her own food because it was almost impossible to get it to taste right once it was cooked.
She turned the page to see the Camden Cotillion Club had had their annual soiree before the Carolina Cup this past Saturday. Photos of rich horse people from up North and local well-to-do Camdenites dotted the page. There was a time when Emily would have not just attended all those balls, but she would have been the belle. But at some point, even though she always kept up her appearance, it didn’t matter that she was the belle. She stopped going to the parties, and the invitations ceased.
She skimmed the Camden Chatter column to see so many folks had entertained out-of-town guests for the Cup. For Emily, the Carolina Cup used to be better than Christmas, a week of parties that culminated with a day of steeplechase. The pageantry of fine thoroughbreds and beauties like Emily was unmatched. Not that she was well traveled and would know, but it had to have been the case to attract the rich horse people and the likes of the DuPonts, the Williamses, the Buckleys.
The beginning of the column always listed upcoming dinner parties and cocktail parties. Newell Bolton’s wife and the Nortons and the Lawrences were forever entertaining. The last entry was surprising to say the least.
Miss Katie Wilkes entertained Miss Nettie Gilbert in her home last week for a lovely dinner to celebrate Miss Gilbert’s recent employment and move to Camden.
Good Lord.
Emily tossed the newspaper onto the floor and picked up
LIFE
magazine. Humph. That girl probably bought it because the actress on the cover favored her a bit. Emily used to do that, imagine she was Lillian Gish or a blond Edna Purviance, especially Edna with those expressive eyes. She had been Charlie Chaplin’s favorite
actress; he was even going to marry her until he chose another starlet over her. Emily flipped through the pages and stopped short.
Miracle in Palestine, Texas
, the headline blared.
She read and reread the article. Miracles in Palestine? Wasn’t that the general vicinity where all those miracles in the Bible took place? Well, it was Texas and not the exact same Palestine. Still, it was an answer to prayer, albeit God only knows how far away Palestine was from the great state of South Carolina. Emily had never asked anything of Lurleen, not really. Not since John died and their brother disappeared, and Emily knew she had no right to ask anything of her now.
The snaggletoothed five-year-old boy in the picture on her bedside table smiled back at her. Brother. Teddy. Perfect and happy. He was such a beautiful child. Emily was five when Mama announced Emily wouldn’t be the baby of the family anymore. She was so angry at her parents as she watched Mama’s belly grow, hating the baby inside that was coming to steal Emily’s place in the world. And Daddy, goodness knows he always wanted a son; if he got his wish, Emily knew she’d be a dull and distant gleam in her father’s eye. Then Brother came into the world. Beautiful. Perfect. Screaming for attention, and for the next eighteen years, Emily doted on him. Loved him to bits until he disappeared on his birthday.
There was no search party when he vanished. It was like the whole town was wishing Teddy good riddance, and who could blame them? Everyone from Emily’s friends, to the preacher, to Brother’s teachers, knew it was wasted effort to look for him. For years he’d been as wild as he knew how, taking chances. Hoping to die.
At first, all of Camden pitied him, which seemed to fuel his anger. But after a while, the patience of friends of their family, neighbors, the
police grew thin, and it didn’t matter that Teddy’s life was changed by an accident. It didn’t matter that he was on a path to destruction that was all Emily’s doing. And then Mama died and that was it; he was just gone one morning. No note, no nothing. Just gone.
Since then, a day hadn’t gone by that Emily didn’t wonder where he was, pray for him. She prayed he’d married. She prayed he’d found peace. She prayed that God would give her just a small sign to let her know whether her baby brother was alive or dead. And while it was always tragic for death to steal someone young and in their prime, somehow
not
knowing what happened to Teddy was far worse, a constant pain that was as fresh today as it was the moment he went missing so long ago.
Yes, Emily would give anything to have her prayers answered. But she suspected not having any answers, never having any real peace, was her punishment.
R
emmy sat for two hours with his arms wrapped around her. His shirt was wet from tears she’d shed. And it was sheer torture, not being able to do anything for her other than hold her. His reward came about fifteen minutes into her crying jag when she wrapped her arms around his middle and her body relaxed into his.
By that point, he’d already lost himself in Nettie Gilbert. The way she felt pressed against him, the smell of her hair, the way her breath felt on his chest. After a good while, she moved her head from side to side against his chest until he laughed and then she
laughed too, and that was just about the nicest sound he’d ever heard. “Did you just wipe your nose on my shirt?”
She pulled away just enough to run her hand over the wet spot. “Sorry,” she whispered.
“That’s a first,” he said still holding her tight.
“You’ve never entertained a tearful woman, Dr. Wilkes?” She settled back onto her place on his chest.
“I have, but I’m not sure any of them wiped their noses on me.”
“Maybe they did but you didn’t notice.”
“Maybe I didn’t notice because they weren’t you.” He kissed the top of her head. “Not to be a broken record, but do you feel better?”
She nodded. “I didn’t think I had any tears left. Guess I was wrong.”
“It was a shitty thing they did, and you’re entitled to every tear, every feeling.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if my mother hadn’t sent me an invitation to the wedding—”
“Are you kidding me? You’re not going, are you?”
“No, I’m not. To be honest, I’m not even sure Brooks or Sissy is worth crying over, but my parents? All my relatives who knew but remained silent?”
“Maybe your relatives didn’t know,” Remmy offered.
She shook her head. “There was always a myriad of letters from home, but they suddenly stopped. From everyone. They knew. They just didn’t know what to say to me. Besides, it wasn’t their place to tell me Brooks was a cheat and Sissy is—”
“What?” Remmy asked.
“Aside from being a fiancé-stealing coquette, she’s still my sister, which, as much as I hate to admit it, that means something. Although not as much as it did before.”
The breeze sent the clouds floating past the April moon, leaving it clear and bright. The scent of the tea olives that surrounded the stately old home was sweet, intoxicating. He stroked her hair, loving the feeling of her pressed against him, confiding in him. There was a closeness that wasn’t there before. And, perhaps the biggest coup of all, she trusted him.
Before he met Nettie, he’d always believed contentment was stagnating, dangerous, and he’d known very little of it since he moved back to Camden. His entire life had always been about going after the next big thing in college, then med school, and it usually was not a woman. Remmy had dated around a lot but didn’t have time nor the inclination to devote himself to one woman, who, as he well knew from his friends, would demand and divide his attention. And yet, with Nettie Gilbert in his arms she felt like home. Even Camden felt like home. Right now she could ask him for anything in the world, and he’d move heaven and earth to give it to her just so he could hang on to the feeling a little longer.
“I’m really sorry that happened to you, Nettie. But I’m glad it brought you here to me.”
She tilted her face up to his and closed her eyes, a silent invitation he took with pleasure.
• • •
T
he next morning, Miss Lurleen’s heart sounded good but her blood pressure was up after Remmy broke the news to her.
“She’s not?” The disappointment in Miss Lurleen’s voice equaled Remmy’s euphoria that Nettie wasn’t pregnant with some other guy’s baby.
“What happened isn’t for me to say, but no, she’s not expecting.” Remmy moved the stethoscope around, wishing her lungs didn’t sound iffy. He pulled Miss Lurleen’s gown back together and tossed the scope in his bag.
“But why not?” The woman was dumbfounded.
“That’s not for me to say; what I will say is that she was wronged. The only reason I’m telling you is I didn’t want you to say something to her about it, and, without meaning to, embarrass or upset her. She’s had more than her share of both lately.”
Miss Emily barged into the room without knocking. Remmy ignored her and continued his examination of Miss Lurleen, who looked at her sister like she was going to cry. “Nettie’s not expecting, Emily,” she said weakly.
“And here I was going easy on her,” Miss Emily snapped.
“Well, don’t go pulling your cat-o’-nine-tails out again. Don’t you dare say a word to her that we thought she was in the family way,” Miss Lurleen shot back. “And don’t go getting any ideas about running her off; as long as I can draw breath, she’s going to be here. And, if you’re smart, Emily, after I’m gone, you’ll keep her on for as long as she’ll have you.”
“Have me? Humph.”
“Did you want something, Sister?” Miss Lurleen asked. “Because if you didn’t, after Remmy leaves, I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Yes, I have something very important to discuss later after Dr. Worthless leaves. However, the girl—” That drew a hard look from Miss Lurleen. “Nettie wanted to know if you were going to eat in the kitchen with us again.”
“Thank her, please, but no. I’m feeling completely spent today.”
“You got out of the bed and walked to the supper table?” Remmy asked, checking her extremities for swelling. “There’s good and bad in that; hope it was mostly good for you.”
“Good and bad?” Emily said. “Dr. Worthless here has now turned into Dr. Ambiguous.”
“Good in that it’s not healthy for her to stay in bed all the time. There’s all kinds of problems that can arise, the least of which is bedsores,” he said, looking at Miss Emily before he turned his attention to Miss Lurleen. “Did it tire you out? Leave you short of breath?”
“Yes, but I’m fine,” Miss Lurleen said like she couldn’t die quick enough.
• • •
F
or so long, calling Mr. Buck had been the best part of Remmy’s day, but it paled in comparison to sitting on the Eldridge sisters’ front porch with Nettie Gilbert. And rightfully so, but he was tired of feeling like he was sneaking around to see her. He’d tell her tonight he intended to date her properly, and if the sisters complained about Nettie taking some time for herself, he’d ask Cora May or Katie to sit with them.
Remmy had pretty much had his fill of sisters in general. Before he’d left the house to visit Nettie tonight, Katie had given him the third degree, and he’d given it right back to her.
“You’re almost ten years older than her,” Katie snapped.
“Doesn’t matter, and my seeing Nettie is none of your business, Katie. I know that always turns you sour on any woman. Until now, I’ve barely tolerated your ordering me around, trying to maneuver people out of my life, but don’t get any ideas this time because it won’t work. I like her; she likes me. End of story.” Well, he hoped
that wasn’t the end of the story, because he wanted to get to know Nettie and see how things would go.
Katie didn’t say another word, just retreated to the living room and stuck her nose back in her book where it belonged, which was damn fine by Remmy. Next on his list was telling the sisters of his intention to date Nettie Gilbert, not that he had to. He and Nettie were both adults, but he planned on being around the Eldridge home a lot more and not in the capacity of a doctor, so it seemed like the right thing to do.
He hurried down Laurens Street, his body strung tight with the anticipation of seeing her again, holding her, kissing her.
When he got to the house, it was completely dark. He started up the steps, and couldn’t wait to find Nettie on the porch waiting for him. But she wasn’t there. He called to her, albeit softly, but there was no answer. He sat down on the swing and waited maybe an hour, or until it was apparent even to the dimmest man that she wasn’t coming. He had been pressed for time when he’d visited Miss Lurleen earlier in the day; but Nettie had seemed fine then. This didn’t make any sense.
Had Katie meddled and phoned her after he left the house, even after he’d warned her to stay out of his business? Had he unknowingly said or done something to warrant Nettie’s absence? If he did, why hadn’t she just called or told him to his face instead of just not showing? At that moment, Remmy, who always prided himself on being studious, wished he’d paid more attention to the women he’d dated in the past. Maybe then he could figure out what in the hell had Nettie Gilbert running scared.