Read Online Lowcountry Summer by Dorothea Benton Frank - Free Book Online

infuriated me as though these things had just happened hours ago instead of years. I got up, threw on my old jeans and a chambray shirt, and drove over to Trip’s. His kitchen lights were still on and the side of his house that faced the river was all wide open. I got out and gave my eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. I couldn’t see him or Rusty through the windows, but when I turned to go back to my car to grab my cell phone, I spotted him down on his dock. He was alone, leaning on the rail, standing in the same position as we always did on my dock. His posture said he was deep in thought. I called out to him from about fifty feet away. I was convinced that I could help him sort out this problem.
    “Hey! Want some company?”
    He turned to face me, and even in the darkness I could sense the depth of his somber mood.
    “Hey. Sure. What are you doing up so late?”
    “Bear hunt. But it looks like it was called off.”
    “Right. Me, too.”
    “Couldn’t sleep.”
    “Me either.”
    The Edisto moved ever so quietly beneath us, tiny laps against the pilings like whispers, waltzing its way in slow motion and with a lyrical determination toward the Atlantic. The river was lit by a sliver of the moon and countless stars, but in its center it appeared to be bottomless and menacing. All around its edges the water held the silhouettes of trees—loblollies, palmettos, and live oaks to assure us. We could see ourselves reflected in it. In that moment the Edisto knew all there was to know about us.
    “So what are you thinking about?” I said.
    “My life as I knew it has come to an end.”
    “Oh, good grief, Trip. Isn’t that a little melodramatic?”
    “Nope. It’s over. Done. Finished.”
    “Well, then maybe that’s a good thing.”
    “Maybe. I had one of my associates start drawing up separation papers today. Should be done by day after tomorrow.”
    “Good. Did you get all the stuff I e-mailed you on Promises Rehab in Malibu?”
    “Yeah. It’s no bargain.”
    Why was it always about money with him?
    “No, it’s not, but they say they can show that people who go through rehab in a residential environment instead of a hospital have a higher chance of staying clean and sober. And to be honest, what’s money for anyway?”
    “I’d just like to see a return on my investment this time. She is still the mother of my children.”
    “Yes, that she is.”
    “I keep telling myself that.” He was quiet again. “Can I just say something terrible and you won’t hold it against me?”
    I could see that Trip was getting worked up because now he was standing up straight and had jammed his hands deep into his pockets.
    “Of course!”
    “Why didn’t Mother stop me from marrying her? Why couldn’t she have done that one thing for me?”
    “Frances Mae was as pregnant as a Christmas tree, you might recall, and you were hell-bent and determined to make her your wife.”
    “Yeah, but couldn’t Millie have mixed up some potion and slipped it in her tea to, you know . . .”
    “Cause her to lose the baby? You’re kidding, right?”
    “No, I’m not kidding.”
    “You’ve heard the expression ‘water over the dam’? I mean, I do remember Mother considering killing Frances Mae with her bare hands now and then, but none of us would ever do anything to harm an unborn child. Not even Mother, and especially not Millie. Anyway, what’s the point of thinking about that now, four children and twenty years later?”
    “Because that one decision, that one lousy decision to marry her and bring Amelia into the world, led to this moment.”
    “I happen to be a fan of Amelia,” I said.
    “Oh, no! So am I! Aw, hell! Maybe I was never the right person for Frances Mae.”
    “Back then, you thought you were in love with her, but now? You have to wonder who would be the right person for Frances Mae.”
    “Truly. But I thought I loved her. You’re right about that.”
    As it turned out, Trip had actually done all the