Lessons of a Lowcountry Summer (25 page)

Rebecca snuggled against his neck. “Let's take this inside before our neighbors see us.”

Lee stood up with Rebecca in his arms. Minutes later they were in bed, their naked bodies writhing together in a timeless rhythm. Wordlessly, they reconciled in the most intimate way possible.

 

Ezra joined his brother
and sister-in-law on the veranda for brunch. His joy in seeing Rebecca reclining gracefully on a chaise was short-lived when he saw a tall, slender, dark-skinned man hand her a cup of coffee before he rested a hand on her bare shoulder. The familiarity of the gesture was enough to let him know that the man was Rebecca's husband.

He forced a smile and joined the two couples. “Good morning.” His voice sounded false even to his own ears.

Rebecca's head came around, and she smiled at the man who had become teacher, mentor and friend. “Good morning, Ezra.”

Lee rose to his feet, but Ezra motioned to him. “Please, don't get up.” He extended his right hand. “Ezra Smith.”

Eyeing the man who'd had a profound effect on his wife, Lee smiled and shook the proffered hand. He had to admit that the historian was attractive and imposing. The richness of his gold-brown skin gave him the appearance of having a year-round tan.

“Lee Owens.”

Ezra sat down on a chair and poured coffee from a silver pot into a porcelain cup, adding a small amount of heavy cream to the chicory-flavored brew. He took a sip, enjoying the fragrance and taste. He always looked forward to visiting McKinnon just to drink his sister-in-law's coffee.

Lowering the cup to a matching saucer, he stared at Rebecca. There was a tiny red bruise along the side of her neck not covered by the thick gold-streaked curls on her nape. There was no doubt Lee had marked his territory.

“Well, Lee, how do you like McKinnon?”

Resting his elbows on the arms of his chair, Lee tented his fingers. “I like what I've seen of it,” he answered honestly.

“Do you feel it's too primitive for someone who has lived all of his life in a cosmopolitan city?”

“Not at all. There was a time when Charleston could be thought of as primitive.”

Janie, sensing a thread of hostility between the two men said, “Lee has agreed to provide financing for the McKinnon Island Historical Society once we get it established.”

“Not me personally,” Lee said quickly. “But as president of a bank I'm going to do everything within my power to help my wife realize her dream to turn McKinnon Island into another Colonial Williamsburg.”

“It's a dream with incredible merit,” Thomas stated emphatically. “I've given Rebecca the name of the historical architect Janie and I commissioned to plan the restoration of this property.”

Rebecca's hazel eyes sparkled like polished citrines. “I want all of McKinnon Island to achieve historic landmark status like Newburyport, Massachusetts.”

Ezra smiled at her. “That's possible, given some of the surviving authentic Gullah structures on the island.”

Lee crossed a leg over the opposite knee. “The locals can take advantage of tourists coming to the island by setting up antique shops and boutiques to sell their baskets and quilts. And for those who would want to stay over, lodging accommodations can be provided at private guesthouses, or restored plantations can become B and Bs.”

“Talk the talk, banker man,” Thomas teased with a wide grin. Lee pressed a fist to his mouth to suppress a laugh.

“How about eating establishments, Lee?” Janie asked.

“If the owners of The Fish Net aren't willing to set up a chain of restaurants throughout the island, then they're going to be in for some serious competition from the women who turn their homes into guesthouses.”

Rebecca nodded. “I've witnessed that. Hope made the most delicious homemade ice cream, sweet potato pie, and fried spareribs I've ever eaten. In fact, it was the first time I'd ever eaten fried spareribs.”

“I'm with you, Rebecca,” Janie said. “Hope's grandmother, Queenie Robinson, earned the reputation of best cook on McKinnon. Whenever there was a church social, everyone sampled Miss Queenie's dishes first.”

Lee spent the next two hours with the Smiths, listening as they extolled the importance of keeping the Gullah culture alive. They did not know he did not need much more convincing because his wife had done that the night before.

Pressing his palms together, he brought his fingertips to his lips and stared at her. He would do anything for her. All she had to do was ask.

 

 

H
is fingers skimming
over the keyboard, Theo ignored the light tapping on the door. The tapping continued. “Go away!”

“I can't,” came Helen's voice. “You have a call.”

“Tell whoever it is I'll call them back.”

“It's Jeff. He says it's important.”

“Okay!” Theo saved what he had typed and pushed back his chair. Damn his agent.

Crossing the room, Theo threw open the door and took the cordless phone from Helen. “Thanks.” Waiting until she walked away, he closed the door softly. “What's up, Jeff?”

“I should ask you the same thing, lover boy.”

A frown furrowed Theo's forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“I have a copy of the
Chatterer
in front of me, and you and Dr. Hope Sutton made the front page. The two of you look pretty cozy holding hands in a Savannah restaurant. The caption reads,
‘Did second loss at Oscar send scriptwriter Theo Howell into Dr. Hope's capable hands?' ”

“Real cute,” Theo snarled.

“Cute or not, please answer one question for me, Theo. When did you and the self-help diva start knocking boots?”

Theo clutched the phone so tightly that his fingers ached. “Watch your mouth, Jeff.”

“I'm only asking because I need to know what to say when the media comes knocking.”

“Tell them what you tell everyone when you don't want to be bothered—fuck off!”

“If I tell them that, then they're going to think I have something to hide.”

“Well, I don't have anything to hide. I'm going to hang up because I still have a lot of work to do. Please don't call me again unless it is something really important.”

Not giving his agent the chance to say another word, he ended the call. He left his bedroom office and replaced the telephone on a wall in the kitchen.

He stared at Helen staring back at him. “I'm going to see Hope.”

She nodded, knowing instinctively that whatever it was he wanted to see Hope about had to be important for him to leave his writing project. Theo had maintained a ritual of rising early and working until the afternoon. Once the door opened, it remained open until the following morning.

His nightly ritual had changed, because he hadn't slept in his own bed in more than three weeks. She knew he had been sleeping with Hope, and she respected his discretion. She had begun saying novenas again for the second time since coming to work for Theo.

This time it was for Theo and Hope to see what was so apparent. They were in love with each other.

 

Hope answered the door,
shocked to see Theo standing on her porch in the middle of the morning when he'd left her house at dawn. She opened the door wider and moved closer to him. A muscle flicked in his jaw.

“What's the matter?”

Reaching out, he took her hands and pulled her close. He lowered his head and spoke close to her ear, repeating his conversation with his agent. She stiffened in his embrace, her heart pumping wildly against his chest.

“I'm sorry,” he apologized softly. “I'm so sorry—”

Her fingers halted his apology. “It's okay, Theo. It was only a photograph, and holding hands across a restaurant table cannot be construed as anything but that.”

His brows flickered. “Didn't you tell me that you go to great lengths to keep your private life private?”

She smiled. “As a public figure I do, but didn't I tell you that you're the celebrity, and celebrities aren't expected to have private lives.”

He ran his forefinger down the length of her nose, then dropped a light kiss on the end. “We can always hang out someplace other than Savannah. There's always St. Simons, or Sapelo Islands.”

“Don't stress yourself over it, Theo. It's nice dressing up and going up to Savannah or Hilton Head to eat in fancy restaurants, but I still prefer places like The Fish Net. We have another four weeks to be together, and I don't want to spend that time agonizing over a photograph on the front page of a sleazy tabloid.” She and Theo had less than a month, while Rebecca and her children would return to Charleston in three weeks. Her arms went around his waist. “Hanging out on McKinnon Island does have its advantages.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You can't buy the
Chatterer
or any of the other more popular supermarket tabloids at the mini-market.”

Theo smiled for the first time since answering his agent's call. “As the kids say, ‘That's cool.' ”

“It is cool.” She rested her head between his neck and shoulder, shivering slightly when he tunneled his fingers through her hair and massaged her scalp.

“I don't want to think of leaving here,” he whispered in her ear. “You're probably going through a little premature separation anxiety.”

“You're right.”

Rebecca, along with several prominent residents of McKinnon Island, had gotten an injunction to halt the buying and selling of all properties, which had sabotaged his efforts to purchase a house. The Owens children, who spent more time at his summer place than at their own, had convinced his brothers and sister that they should relocate to Charleston.

Theo watched and carefully monitored the growing attraction between Brandon and Ashlee. Most times they sat apart from the others, talking and laughing. He had taken his youngest brother aside and counseled him about not going too far with the young girl. Brandon had appeared embarrassed by the lecture, but he'd reassured his guardian that he would never disrespect his new friend because Christian had talked to him about the same thing.

Later that night Theo had sought out Christian and praised him for his maturity; he'd also apologized for slapping him. Christian had shrugged off the apology, saying he'd needed someone to knock some sense into him. The brief encounter had ended with them hugging while declaring they had to look out for one another.

Theo brushed a kiss over Hope's forehead. “Are you busy?”

She smiled. “A little. Why?”

Pulling back, he stared down at her. “I was thinking perhaps we could take a nap together. I didn't get much sleep last night.”

She lifted a waxed eyebrow. “Whose fault was that, Theodore?”

“Yours.”

“Not. You were the one who couldn't get enough.”

“That's because you had me on sexual lockdown for a couple of days.”

“That's because I had cramps and some breakthrough bleeding.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” he asked when she clamped her jaw tight and stared over his shoulder.

“Because there's no need to burden you with my medical problems.”

He swallowed a savage expletive. “For heaven's sake, Hope, I'm sleeping with you!”

“And that's it!” she countered. “We're just sleeping together.”

His eyes widened until she could see his near-black irises. Didn't she know he had fallen in love with her? That she was different from all of the other women he'd known?

“Do you still have cramps?”

She lifted her shoulders. “They come and go. I've increased my hormone dosage by another ten milligrams a day.”

The fingers of his right hand circled her upper arm. “Come inside. We'll lie down together.”

“What about your writing?”

“And what about it?” His tone was challenging.

“Nothing, Theo.” She did not want to fight with him. The return of her menses and the spotting was an indication that the hormone therapy wasn't working. And that meant she did not have to wait until October for a prognosis. There was no doubt she would have to face a surgical procedure.

She walked with Theo to her bedroom. He pulled back the faded yellow patchwork quilt and sat down on the side of the bed. He held out his hand. “Come.”

Slipping off her sandals, she lay down on the cool sheet and turned over on her side. Theo removed his running shoes and lay beside her in spoon fashion, his knees touching the backs of hers.

He pressed a kiss on her hair, inhaling the floral fragrance clinging to the heavy strands. “Everything is going to work out, sweetheart.”

Hope closed her eyes, whispering her own silent prayer. “You sound so certain.”

He laughed softly, the sound echoing in the silent room. “That's because I am.”

They lay together, their chests rising and falling in unison until they fell asleep.

 

The clanging of the bell
woke Hope, and when she rolled over she found herself alone in the bed. Pushing her hair off her forehead, she walked on bare feet to the front door. Rebecca stood on the porch, dressed in a revealing maillot. The high-cut legs and deep-V neckline displayed her petite body to its best advantage.

Hope smothered a yawn behind her hand as she opened the door. “Come in.”

Rebecca took off her sunglasses and anchored them on the top of her head. “I came to ask you whether you wanted to go swimming. My children have deserted me.”

“Where are they?”

“Over at Theo's. Whenever I go to either Savannah or Hilton Head to shop for groceries, I come back and drop them off over there. I forced them to stay with me one night, and they complained so much that I wanted to beat the shit out of them. And I would've done it if I weren't afraid of being charged with child abuse. They only stopped bitchin' when I threw a shoe at Ashlee, missing her by mere inches.”

“Rebecca!”

She waved a hand. “My kids should know when I say no, it means no. Especially when I have PMS.”

“So, you're one of those women who lose it before you get your period.”

“Losing it is putting it mildly. I'm usually homicidal.”

Hope gave her a cautious look. “You all right now?”

Rebecca flashed her dimpled smile. “I'm good. It ended yesterday. I wanted to come over earlier, but I saw Theo's car.”

Hope knew if she did not tell her neighbor about their photograph on the front page of the
Chatterer
she was bound to see it whenever she went to one of the major supermarket chains.

“Let's sit down. I have something to tell you.”

Rebecca stared wide-eyed and listened as Hope related what Theo's agent had told him. “Have you ever been in a tabloid before?”

“No. And to my knowledge I don't believe my name has ever appeared in one.”

“I don't know what to say. Theo has become a Hollywood icon not only because of his work but because we don't have that many black scriptwriters. I'm sure the photographer was surprised to get two prizes with one shot. He probably thought you were just another silicon-enhanced hoochie until he recognized you.”

Hope's mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Any time Theo is photographed with a woman she looks as if she is hiding two midgets in her bodice.” Rebecca registered Hope's shocked expression. “Come on, girlfriend, you have to know he's a breast man.” She covered her modest cleavage with her hands. “He wouldn't even give these a passing glance.”

“You think he's attracted to me because of my chest?”

“No. I think he's attracted to you because of three Bs.”

“Three Bs?”

“You're brilliant, beautiful, and busty.”

Hope tried not to laugh. “You're pushing it,
girlfriend
, because I happen to have PMS right now. Another remark like that and you're in for an old-fashioned Harlem beat-down.”

“I only speak the truth.”

Hope pushed to her feet. “I'll be right back. Let me get my suit and I'll join you.”

She'd had two unexpected visitors that morning, and she knew there was no way she could get back into the mood to resume writing. The day before, she had picked up a stack of letters for her “Straight Talk” column, and she had spent the afternoon reading them. Most she could answer off the top of her head, while others required more complex answers. She planned to spend the rest of the week answering letters before she picked up her book project.

 

They swam for thirty minutes,
then retreated to the protective cover of the porch. Hope went into the house to prepare a pitcher of iced tea; she returned to the porch, and the Sophie Ladies had a late-afternoon tea party.

Rebecca was more talkative than usual as she brought her neighbor up to date on her preservation crusade. Hope noticed she rarely mentioned Ezra's name since Lee had begun spending his weekends on McKinnon Island.