Folly Beach Part 31

"Mom or Dad probably had it in an open s.p.a.ce or something. Aunt Daisy might know. Let's get out of here before we get stuck in rush-hour traffic."

I looked at my watch. It was almost four thirty.

"Too late. We're screwed," I said.

And, as predicted, we sat in b.u.mper-to-b.u.mper traffic, not arriving at the Porgy House until ten minutes past five.

"You take the bathroom first!" she said.

"Thanks! Maybe he'll be late!" I said, rushing up the stairs.

Patti and I made ourselves as presentable as we could in a short period of time and at six o'clock he wasn't there. Ten after six, no John. Six fifteen, no John.

"Should you call him?" Patti said. "You know, maybe he's got a flat or something."

"Nice girls don't call boys," I said. "You want a gla.s.s of wine?"

"You're not a nice girl. Call him."

"If he's not here in ten minutes, I'll do it."

I went down to the kitchen and poured two gla.s.ses of wine from the open bottle in the refrigerator. I tasted one and then poured them both down the drain. There was nothing quite like cheap wine that had been sitting in a refrigerator for a couple of days to make you want a Diet c.o.ke.

Finally, there was a knock at the door, which he opened himself and called out, "Cate? Sorry I'm late!"

"I'm right here!"

He gave me a kiss and said, "Wow, you smell good."

The man was a veritable poet sometimes. Freaking Keats. But it should be noted that he smelled good enough to, well, you know what I mean. Pretty delicious is what, okay?

"Thanks! So, what happened? I was getting worried. You know, dead in a ditch?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away from you. Don't you know that by now? There was a terrible wreck on Folly Road and my cell is dead. How's Miss Daisy?"

"Doing great, thanks! She's probably coming home tomorrow."

"Where's your sister?"

"Patti? John's here!"

"Coming!" she called back and I could hear her feet scurrying about overhead.

"Oh! Guess what? We went to the Charleston Museum today and saw the piano."

"And?"

"You were right, of course. It is absolutely identical to mine."

"Isn't that something?" John said.

"Yeah, it's another one of those crazy coincidences."

"There are no coincidences, Cate. This is another confirmation that you are the one to write Dorothy Heyward's story. Plain and simple."

"I'm buying a laptop tomorrow," I said. "It's time."

"Hi!" Patti called out too loudly from the top of the steps. "Are y'all coming up or am I coming down?"

"Let's get going," I called up to her. "For the first time in my whole life, I skipped lunch."

"Starving?" John said.

"Like an animal," I said.

"Yeah, you are," he whispered, with a naughty expression.

"Hush!" I mumbled.

Patti hurried downstairs, took one look at John, and I wouldn't say she gasped or went all gooey, but there was a marked change in her normal demeanor. Maybe giddy was the way to describe her.

"It's nice to meet you," she said, in her usual way, but I knew better, because she was talking too loud.

He took her extended hand and put his other hand on top, holding on to it as though she was a rare and tender orchid he was protecting from a bruising tropical rain.

"So, you're Patti, Cate's beautiful sister I've heard so much about. You're much younger than I thought you'd be. You're a pastry chef, aren't you? How do you stay so . . . I mean, Cate said you were a knockout but she didn't prepare me for this! No, ma'am, she did not prepare me for this!"

Patti's eyes opened wide; she leaned her head to one side and said in a new voice, one just above a whisper, "Please marry my sister. We'd love to have you in the family. I'm not kidding."

Among the many qualities John Risley possessed, he was also able to lower the volume on my sister.

Ma.s.sive giggles overtook us and countless disingenuous admonishments flew around the room like a swarm of crazy bees.

My sister's such a great kidder, making jokes all the time! Who's joking? For G.o.d's sake, marry her! Do you think your sister would have me? Are you serious?

On and on they went until finally I said, "All right, you two? We can plan the wedding over dinner, okay?"

"I'll make the cake. John, what kind of cake do you like?"

"I like every kind of cake," he said. "Whatever you make is delicious, I'm sure!"

"And you're so sweet to take us out to dinner. Can we make dinner for you tomorrow night?"

"I think that would be wonderful," he said.

"Have you seen the things my sister can do with a chicken?"

"Well actually, only once but I can't wait for an encore," he said.

"I'll make dessert. Do you like chocolate?"

"Hoo, boy," I said, and sighed.

I followed them, turning out lights, but leaving one on so I could find my way to the door in the dark. Patti was completely, totally, and thoroughly taken by John. I know this to be a fact because she kicked the back of my car seat about every two seconds the whole way downtown and she kicked my shins under the table all during dinner at Rue de Jean. And whenever she thought John couldn't see, she leaned over and pinched me. I was going to be black-and-blue if dinner didn't end soon. But truly? I was so happy, blissful really, to see that Patti approved so enthusiastically of him. For the very first time in my life I was with the right man. I had found someone who was genuinely right for me, my sister was talking like a normal person, and I was thrilled.

He was giving her the story on some aspect of the Poetry Society of South Carolina and Dorothy Heyward's involvement with the Dock Street Theater, even after DuBose was long gone. Patti was entranced.

"And I am insisting that your sister write her story," he said. "She's always wanted to write a play . . ."

"That's true," Patti said. "She made up tons of plays when we were kids but you should know she always gave herself the best parts. Just once, I wanted to be the princess, just once! But noooooo! Cate always got to wear the crown."

"Would you like some more wine, Cate?"

"No, thanks, two gla.s.ses are plenty. The crown was cut from cardboard and covered with aluminum foil," I said. "And just for the record, she never let me use her Easy-Bake Oven."

"So, you were a baker even as a child?" he said.

"Yes."

"Patti's always been brilliant in the kitchen," I said, thinking, oh Lord, how much manure can these two shovel in one night?

Apparently, their skills in this department knew no ceiling and they continued piling it on until we were interrupted by the jittery vibration of my cell phone, which I had left on in case someone needed me. It was Russ.

"Hey! Is everything okay?" I said.

"Oh, yeah, everything's fine. I just dropped Ella off and I wanted to tell you that Aunt Daisy was asking for y'all. That's all."

"How's she doing?"

"I'd say she's a little cranky but she's sure better than she was."

"So, we'll stop by. How's Alice?"

"Alice? Let's say we talk about babies a lot. Maybe nonstop. I mean, do I really need to know all this stuff?"

"Oh, honey, it's her first baby. She'll settle down."

"No, I don't think so. I mean, tonight at supper I said, Can't we talk about something else? She started crying and went in the bedroom and slammed the door. I finally just left to go see Aunt Daisy."

"Nice. Listen to your momma on this one. Before you get home? Buy her some flowers. And when you get there, tell her she's beautiful and that you're sorry. That's all."

"Yeah, you're probably right. I'll stop at the grocery store."

"And we'll stop by and see Aunt Daisy to tell her good night."

We hung up and I said to John and Patti, "It's only eight. We have one short command performance and then we can go do whatever y'all want to do. Go listen to some music or something?"

"Not a bad idea," John said. "There's a new jazz club on Market Street."

"Hey! Is paradise rumbling?" Patti said.

"No. My son is being insensitive and Alice is weepy. Cla.s.sic first pregnancy baloney."

"Let's get going," John said. "We can't keep Miss Daisy waiting!"

"Boy, that's for sure," I said. "And there's a storm coming."

"Typical Charleston weather for this time of year," John said. "One day you're playing tennis or you're out on your boat and the next day it's freezing rain."

On the ride there, it had begun to drizzle and the temperature was dropping. We told John about how Aunt Daisy wanted us to bring her martinis and he laughed his head off.

"She is such an original character," he said. "So adorable. I just love her. Everyone does. You should see how she entertains my students when I bring them over."

"I'll bet so," Patti and I said.

Our chatter continued until we rode up the elevator together, which was always a somber experience at a hospital. We were feeling pretty good after a delicious dinner and some wine and I was looking forward to the rest of the evening. As we stepped off we saw Tolli Rosol, several other nurses, and orderlies rushing toward Aunt Daisy's room. We started running. I was thinking the worst and when I got there I nearly fainted from what I saw. Aunt Daisy was flailing her arms and legs, sitting up in her bed, choking. It was obvious that she couldn't breathe. She was choking!

"What's wrong?" I said to anyone who might listen and give me an answer.

"Get them out of the room," Nurse Rosol said.

"But what's happened?" Patti said, just as panicked as I was.

"Please! Leave so we can do our job!"

John placed a firm grip on Patti's arm and mine and pulled us outside. We watched in horror through the window. The orderlies were restraining Aunt Daisy, whose eyes were bulging in terror and another person, a man who I a.s.sumed to be a doctor, was holding what looked like a big oxygen mask over her face, trying to attach it. At the same time Nurse Rosol was giving her a shot of something. It was all so horrible and I thought they would never get her calmed down, fix what was wrong, and come out of that room. I started to cry and then Patti did, too. John stood in between us with his arms around our shoulders, squeezing us in between our sobs. I felt so completely helpless. What if she died right in front of us? Should we call Ella? No, I knew we should wait, because we didn't even know what was happening to Aunt Daisy so what would we tell Ella? All we would do is frighten her and she was already at home for the night. Oh G.o.d, I thought, please don't let this be it. Please save Aunt Daisy from whatever is happening!

"Come on now, she's going to be all right," he said and I wanted to believe him.

I wanted to believe him with all my heart, but I couldn't, because his words didn't match what my eyes were seeing. Not even close. But a minute or maybe two pa.s.sed and it appeared that Aunt Daisy was beginning to relax. They elevated the top of her bed and gently laid her back into her pillows with such tenderness I started to cry all over again.

Nurse Rosol turned to us and gave us a thumbs-up. Before I could even process the fact that we had gone from near-death to thumbs-up, she came out to speak to us, followed by the others.

"She's fine," she said. "She's absolutely fine."

"What happened?" I said.

I was still reeling. Nurse Rosol dug in her pocket and pulled out a couple of tissues, handing one to me and one to Patti.

"This happens all the time. Respiratory arrest. It's basically a blockage in the airway, usually mucus. The BIPAP machine forces air in, moves the blockage, and then she can breathe. She'll probably not need the BIPAP for more than an hour. I gave her a good dose of Ativan to make her relax and help her tolerate the machine. She's breathing normally now so that's a very good sign. I just want to have the doctor take a look at her."

"Does this mean she won't be coming home tomorrow?" I asked.

"Not necessarily but the doctor will make that call, not me. My guess is he'll want to keep her for another day just to be sure she isn't going to have another episode. Remember, the antibiotics are going to take care of the mucus. And believe me, this is a pretty common occurrence. I'll be right back." She went back to her station and picked up the phone, presumably to call the doctor.

"What do you ladies want to do?"

"I don't know," Patti said.