Page 43 of The Guests on South Battery
“Because I thought if she wanted me to know, she would have told me. It’s just odd, though. I’ve been practically living and breathing the Pinckney house, and even brought her there, but she never mentioned anything about him other than that she remembered him, and that she had a schoolgirl crush on him. But Rebecca said it was much more than that.”
With a sigh, my father put down the pruning shears and sat next to me on the bench. “I met your mother at a Citadel dance when we were both nineteen. She was someone else’s date, but that didn’t stop me—I’ve always been one of those people who believes that once you see something you want, you figure out how to get it. That’s how it was when I saw Ginny. It was love at first sight for both of us. So even if she had a schoolgirl’s crush on a friend’s older brother, it was never more than that. She chose me, and I chose her, and we loved each other hard and we loved each other completely so that there wasn’t any room for anybody else. And that’s all there is to the story.”
I didn’t mention their divorce or subsequent reconciliation becausethat would complicate things. They were together now anyway, so none of it really mattered. But I felt reassured, somehow. That despite my rocky early years, their love for each other and for me was real and lasting, even with the bumps in the road we’d navigated to get where we were now. Maybe I just needed to hear it, regardless of what Rebecca might believe and feel the urge to tell me.
“Thanks, Dad. I don’t know why I let Rebecca get under my skin like that. Like Mother wouldn’t have mentioned it if it were true.”
“Exactly.” He put his hands on his knees and stood, catching sight of the broken gold necklace and pendant I’d knotted around my neck; I’d meant to bring it into the house instead of leaving it hanging on my car mirror.
“What’s that?” he asked.
Before I could answer, Sarah reached for it, the pendant disappearing into her tiny fist. Her eyes popped wide-open and she screamed, her small fingers opening as if they’d been burned. She jerked back from me so fast that she would have fallen from my lap if my father hadn’t been there to catch her.
Despite the fact that the roses hadn’t begun to bloom yet, the heavy scent of them invaded this corner of the garden, acting as a pacifier for Sarah, who quickly quieted, her gaze focused on something near the fountain.
“She must be hungry,” my dad said, stealing the words from my mouth.
“Must be,” I said, standing with JJ and reaching for Sarah. I made my way across the garden in my heels, smelling roses and listening to the sound of the fountain, and wondering how far down the road of denial he and I were willing to travel before we ran into the truth.
CHAPTER 15
Itook a deep breath as I stood outside Jack’s study. I’d just come back from my morning walk with my mother and hadn’t showered yet, but I knew I’d better get this over with before I changed my mind. This was all part of the new mature Melanie. It wasn’t that I didn’t think being open and honest was good for me. It was just that change was hard, like learning to choose vegetables instead of chocolate.
I gave a brief knock on the door, then opened it and stuck my head inside. Nola’s grand piano dominated the middle of the room, but looking past it I could see Jack at his desk against the window, wearing the cardigan sweater with elbow patches the twins had given him for Christmas. I’d told him that we’d thought it made him look more writerly and that it—along with the sheepskin-lined moccasin slippers Nola had given him—would help get him over his creative slump. It worried me a little to see him wearing both now.
He didn’t seem to notice my presence until I was beside him, as he was apparently absorbed in the folder of papers from Yvonne that were spread over the desktop along with a yellow lined pad on which I could see the scrawl of his writing punctuated with bullet points.
I saw that he must have been propping his head up with his hand,because he had an adorable cowlick in the middle of his forehead. He blinked for a moment as if trying to register who I was and where we were and what time of day it was. Having apparently figured it out, he smiled. “Did you have a good walk?”
I nodded. “Yes—the weather’s perfect. Not too hot, and not too cold, and very little humidity. I’m going to try to enjoy it while I can.” I pointed to my hair, still smooth despite that morning’s exertions. “Look,” I said. “No Brillo pad frizz.”
“Good for you,” he said. “Although I kind of like your bed-head look.” He raised a suggestive eyebrow, then lifted his arms the way JJ did when he wanted to be held. “Come sit,” he said.
“But I’m all sweaty,” I protested.
“Maybe I like you that way. Or are you suggesting we go upstairs and shower?” Without waiting for my response, he pulled me into his lap. “Mmm,” he said, burying his nose into my neck and winding his fingers through my hair. “Just what I needed right now.”
I smiled and relaxed into his embrace.
“Speaking of frizz,” he said, his voice mumbled as he pressed his lips against my neck, “Jayne’s trying a new shampoo that she swears by to keep the frizz down when the humidity rises. You might want to ask her about it if you’re really worried. Of course, I’d like you bald.”
I stiffened, the thought of why Jack and Jayne would be having a conversation about her hair doing its best to block all my nerve endings. He pulled back, a look of concern on his face. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing. But I did want to have a conversation about something that’s been bothering me.”
He surprised me by grinning. “Is this the new and improved Mellie you keep warning me about?”
I swatted him on the shoulder. “It’s hard enough without you pointing it out when I’m doing it.”
He quickly schooled his features to look more serious. “Got it. So, what did you want to talk about?”
I took a deep breath. “Would you be upset if Sarah had inherited, um, certain abilities from my side of the family?”
He tilted his head, just like General Lee when I told him it wasn’t time for a treat. “As in an ability to communicate with the dead?”
“Yes. I see her staring into corners and other places where there’s nothing going on but she seems to think there is. Even when I can’t see anything—which is happening a lot lately. And then yesterday, in the garden with my dad, she grabbed hold of a necklace that may be a clue to an old murder and it made her scream.”
“Like what happens to your mother when she holds an object.”
