Between Rains, page 5
The minute they arrived back at the house, Rhett turned off the engine and burst from the car. He made his way to Jared and grabbed his arm. With his voice lowered, he barely bothered to hide the anger building inside. “Hey, bro. I need to talk to you.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Rhett saw his mother waving them over.
He gave his brother’s arm a slight tug. “I’m not kidding. Now.”
Jared pulled away. “Hey, lighten up.”
“Now,” Rhett repeated, using the big brother tone he used to employ in high school when he caught an underaged Jared out drinking with his buddies or passed out in the back seat of his car in the high school parking lot.
“There you are,” Rhett’s mom said, eyeing the situation as she joined them. She threaded her hand in her husband’s. Rhett couldn’t help but notice the way her gaze stalled for a moment on Jared. Something passed between them. She blinked it away and patted her husband’s forearm. “Where were you, darling? Did you forget all that we had to do to get ready for your big day?”
His pop leaned and kissed her cheek. “No, Mama. I didn’t forget. I just got caught up in conversation over a pancake or two. That’s all.”
Rhett watched his father closely. His eyes shifted from Rhett’s mom to Jared, the slightest of frowns creasing his brow. It appeared he, too, was covering the situation up to some extent. Could no one admit what was becoming apparent? Even his nephew had clued in that his dad was having memory issues. He needed to get to the bottom of this.
“Let’s go inside,” Rhett told Jared, with a look that warned not to cross him.
Jared and his mother exchanged another wary glance before she wrapped her arm around her husband’s waist, gave a squeeze. “C’mon, birthday boy. No more lollygagging. We have to help get that pit ready for the oyster bake.” As she led their father slowly away, she glanced back at them over her shoulder. No doubt, she understood Rhett was no longer in the dark.
“Let’s have it,” he demanded as soon as he and Jared were inside the house.
“Ssh…calm down,” Jared warned. “You don’t need to tip off an explosion here.” He motioned for their father’s office. “In here.”
Rhett followed him to the familiar room where he’d spent so many hours with his pop, learning the business and all the facets of oyster farming. He’d learned to read a profit and loss statement sitting at that worn desk. His father had drummed the risks of overextending one’s credit and how to manage cash flow while sitting in the worn leather desk chair. In so many ways, those moments seemed like just yesterday.
His father had always been larger than life, the solid rock in the family. Rhett now realized he wasn’t…well, he might not be the superhuman Rhett had thought.
“Okay, look. Pop’s been having a few challenges,” Jared explained. “But the doctor up in Astoria said—”
“The doctor?” Rhett’s heart squeezed. He frowned and shook his head, confused.
“He’s having memory issues, Rhett.”
The words felt like anchors pulling him under. Despite his stoic nature, a sliver of terror ran down his spine. “What do you mean, memory issues?”
Jared placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t freak out. The doctor up in Astoria said that some memory loss is not all that unusual for someone his age.”
Rhett shrugged away. He pulled his hand across the top of his hair in frustration. “Seventy-five is not old, Jared. You felt like he needed medical evaluation, but didn’t tell me?”
Jared held up open palms, trying to halt the onslaught of Rhett’s questions. “See? This is what we were afraid of.”
“We?” The world slowed to a crawl as the implication sunk in. “Who exactly is we?”
“Mom, Leila—”
Rhett didn’t let him finish. “You couldn’t pick up the phone and call me? What the—I mean, I’m part of this family, in case you didn’t remember. Who do you think you are, unilaterally making the decision to exclude me? He’s my father, too, you know.”
Jared motioned between them. “This. This is why we were reluctant to call you, Rhett. This is what you do. You throw a fit if you don’t have all the information. You pummel everyone with questions, demanding answers. You step in and take over, often without regard for anyone else’s wishes or feelings. You’re like a bulldozer.”
Rhett clenched his fists so tightly they hurt. “You little punk. After everything you’ve done? All that you’ve put Mom and Pop through, you think you have the right to lecture me?” He pounded his fist to the desktop. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
The door flew open, and in strode their mother. “Boys! We can hear you two clear out in the yard.” She extended her arms between them almost as if she believed they might come to blows. “This is not the time.”
She focused on Rhett. “Your father is fine. He— Well, he simply gets a little tired now and again and his memory slips a bit. That’s all.” She lowered her gaze and brushed imaginary lint from her dress, her words dropping to a whisper. “There was no reason to trouble you.”
Rhett looked at her with disappointment. “You, too?”
His mother’s back stiffened. She lifted her chin and pinned him with a sharp look. “Son, we will have this discussion later. But not now. Today is your father’s birthday. We have guests coming and I’m not going to allow anything to ruin his special day.” She pointed her finger at Rhett for emphasis. “Understood?” She gave her younger son a light pat on the back. “Now, c’mon. Let’s all go celebrate your father’s birthday.”
The air left Rhett’s lungs. In a strange reversal, she was chastising him and not Jared. In his absence, his brother had apparently become the favorite. He’d managed to become the shoulder their mother leaned on—the one his mother counted on, confided in. Surely, she understood her trust was misplaced.
He opened his mouth to argue the point, but his mother had already moved for the door. Without looking back, she turned the knob and marched out.
Rhett took a deep breath and folded his arms across his chest, not letting that throw him. He looked over at Jared. “This isn’t over.” He paused and turned for the door, trying and failing to ignore the sinking sensation unfurling in his gut. He swallowed the thickness in his throat and muttered under his breath, “Not by a long shot.”
8
Outside, the driveway was now filled with trucks and cars. People had been arriving over the past hour, and the party was about to get underway. The band was tuning up their instruments under his mom’s gazebo and the aromas of cooking food could be detected even inside the house. While the rest of his family had showered and dressed and were now out greeting guests, Rhett buried himself in his pop’s office in front of the computer.
In less than an hour, Rhett had educated himself on the onset of dementia, learned about the major symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease, and what all that could mean. While overwhelmed with the load of information available, all of which he would eventually study carefully, it was apparent that it was good that he was home. He tried to tell himself his family meant well, that they simply did not want to alarm him. Yet no one was better equipped to take all this on. His pop needed the best medical care, evaluation by a dedicated team of professionals who were experts in this field. He would make sure that would happen.
Rhett let out a deep breath and powered the computer down, then hurried upstairs to clean up. After a quick shower, he pulled on a pair of chinos and a button-down shirt. He splashed some cologne on his neck and then joined his family for the birthday festivities, determined to put his dad’s health concerns aside, at least for a little while.
By the time Rhett stepped outside onto the back deck, the party was in full swing. Party attendees gathered in small clusters across the sprawling lawn, chatting. He recognized many. Susan Wilson, the owner of the garden shop in town was smiling as some ladies complimented the table florals. Dr. Pierard, the town veterinarian sauntered over and accepted a glass of freshly poured beer from Pete Lennon. Pete always helped out at the keg and knew the fine art of pouring some draft with just the right amount of foam. Axel, the bartender down at the Sea Star Tavern, looked over his shoulder and offered a few unsolicited pointers.
A bus from the Ebb Tide Retirement Home pulled up. The doors opened and the driver provided assistance to several of the residents by helping them exit, then helped them get settled in their wheelchairs and positioned with their walkers.
Linda Pullen strode across the lawn, carrying a massive birthday cake. She owned the Bayfront Bakery, and year after year argued with his mother over accepting payment for her contribution to the event.
Rhett got a bottle of his favorite craft beer of his own from the cooler nearby and then headed in the direction of the roasting pit lined with racks of oysters covered with damp burlap. Several men huddled around the brick-lined pit, waiting with knives in hand, ready for a go at a steaming pile of large Kumamotos that had been freshly harvested that morning.
“Hey, bud,” Cam greeted him with a tip of his long neck beer bottle. “Where you been?”
Rhett gave him a congenial pat on the back. “Just had some things I had to attend to.”
Sam Marcum, the cook down at the Pig ‘n’ Pancake, wagged a pair of stainless-steel tongs in his direction. “Your folks say you work entirely too much. Work hard? Yes. But don’t forget to play harder!” He laughed as he moved some cooked oysters onto platters and handed them off into Thelma Kennedy’s dimpled hands.
The heavy woman nodded in agreement. “Come on down to the Legion Hall tomorrow night. We’re going to have a rousing game of Bingo. It’d do you good to have some fun.”
Rhett thanked her and promised he would consider her offer.
She leaned close. “There’s a lot of pretty young girls sitting at those Bingo tables. You just never know. You might find your future wife holding a dauber in her hand.” She winked and waddled away, chuckling to herself.
His friend, Ben, approached. “What’s everybody laughing about?”
Cam grinned. “Thelma is trying to hook Rhett up.”
“And, I’m not laughing,” Rhett injected. “While I may marry someday, it’s not likely to be to anyone from Pacific Bay—or, anyone Thelma would choose.”
“Oh?” Olivia Arrington stepped next to them, holding a cute toddler against her hip. “What’s wrong with the women from Pacific Bay?”
Rhett granted her a wide smile. “Nothing. It’s just that all the good ones are taken.” He leaned and kissed her cheek. “So, this is the little one?” He looked over at Ben. “Dang, you’re one lucky guy, Arrington.”
“Yeah, I am,” Ben conceded and took the baby from her mother. “Even with the two a.m. wake-up-to-play issue we have going on right now.”
Olivia gave her husband a playful slap on the forearm. “Okay, mister. You started it.” She leaned over with her hand at the side of her mouth, speaking in a conspiratorial manner. “Ben used to get up to feed her and instead of putting our daughter right back down, he entertained her by zooming Rory around the nursery like Superwoman. In the middle of the night!” She shook her head. “No complaining. You did this yourself, dada.”
Ben shrugged and nuzzled his nose against his baby girl’s, causing her to quake with baby laughter. “I don’t remember doing that.” His daughter gurgled and rested her head against Ben’s strong shoulder.
Olivia laughed and pulled Aurora from Ben’s arms. “You hang with the guys. I’m going to check and see if Grace needs any help.” She looked at Rhett. “Your mom is amazing.”
He agreed with her. Across the lawn, he could see his mother buzzing around, making sure everyone had plenty to eat and drink. As soon as someone’s plate emptied, she’d wave over one of the servers and load them back up with oysters and ears of corn, dripping with garlic butter. While he was too far away to actually hear, she was no doubt saying, “Eat. And there’s plenty more where that came from.”
Rhett excused himself and sauntered over to the food tables, realizing his own stomach was now growling. With everything that had transpired this morning, he’d neglected to eat breakfast or lunch.
In addition to baked oysters pulled from the roasting pit, there were platters of fresh fried oysters from the fryers. Piles of bacon-wrapped smoked oysters bordered an array of crackers. Just past those, soup tureens filled with oyster stew awaited.
Rhett grabbed a plate and scooped a general helping of each. He filled a cup with some stew and made his way to an empty place at a table near the water’s edge. “This seat taken?” he asked.
Pastor Riggin looked up, smiled, and shook his head. “No, please join us.” He motioned for him to sit. “Welcome home, Rhett. Glad to see you’re back for a visit.” Then, motioning to the teenagers sitting at the table with him, he said, “You remember Nolan?”
A young kid with tousled brown hair grinned back at him, a large shell suspended in one hand and an oyster knife poised in the other. “Hey.”
Rhett set his plate down before extending a hand. He turned to the girl sitting next to Nolan. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Rhett said as he slid into his seat.
Pastor Riggin picked up his fork. “This is Nolan’s friend. Stacy,” he said, making introductions. “Stacy, this is Rhett Duvall. This is his folks’ place, and they’re the hosts of this big celebration.” The white-haired pastor scooped up some potato salad. “I’ve known Rhett since he was a toddler.”
It was true. Rhett had clear memories of spending Sunday mornings at New Hope Church sitting on a hard, wooden pew next to his mother. He’d been told to sit still during the service, and any time he made a transgression, she’d give him the look. If he was stupid enough to ignore that initial warning, his actions earned him a quick knuckle thump to the head.
While his memories of church were not always stellar, Pastor Riggin was one of the best dudes in town. Everyone in Pacific Bay respected him. He was one of those who actually lived out what he preached. The guy was kind and generous, always putting service to others far before his own needs. It was no surprise to anyone when he took in a young kid who had been abandoned by his mother at age three. Without a second thought, Pastor Riggin raised him and had given him a home.
“Stacy is Ellen Jeffers’s granddaughter,” Pastor Riggin told him. “I think you went to school with her mother?”
Rhett nodded. “Ah, yes. I heard Diane moved back,” he said, taking a spoon to the bowl of oyster stew.
Stacey made a face. “You like that stuff?”
He laughed. “Yeah, why?”
The young girl shrugged. “I dunno. It looks a little like globs floating in milk.” Her nose scrunched at the thought.
Nolan gave her shoulder a playful nudge with his. “Ah, c’mon. You’re not afraid to try it, are you?” He scooped up some in a spoon and held it to her mouth.
Rhett could tell she wanted to argue. She glanced at the bowl, then back up at Nolan and the challenge written on his face. Bracing herself, she opened her mouth and took the offered bite. Her eyes immediately went wide. “Not bad,” she exclaimed. “I mean, pretty good, actually.”
“Yeah, what’s not to like?” Nolan asked. “This soup is made with cream and butter, celery and onions. And oysters, of course. I’ll have to show you how to fix the recipe sometime.”
She nodded with enthusiasm. “Okay, sure. But first, I want to learn how to make Oysters Rockefeller. Now, these are really delicious!” She slipped one inside her mouth and smiled with pleasure.
“Hey, is this who I think it is?” a female voice rang out.
Rhett turned to find Diane Jeffers standing with her hands on her hips, grinning. His own face sprouted a smile as she moved for him and drew him into a hug. “Goodness, what’s it been?” She quickly waved her comment off. “Never mind. Don’t answer. It’ll only make me feel old.”
“You are definitely not old. Because I’m not. Old, that is.” He motioned for her to sit with them, and she slid into the empty chair across from him.
Diane’s eyes sparkled with little flecks of gold. She looked…good. No, amazing. Amazingly good. Rhett cleared his throat, hoping no one noticed how his gaze lingered on her. She was—after all—off-limits. Fresh from a very public and messy divorce and also a Pacific Bay girl. And Rhett wasn’t staying.
Rhett shook off the thought and gave his attention back to Diane. “Can I get you something to eat?” he offered.
“Oh, no. I already snuck a few of the oysters they were pulling off the grill. I’m stuffed,” she told him.
“And she’s watching her weight,” her daughter teased.
“Careful,” her mother warned. “I know a lot of your secrets, too, you know.”
Pastor Riggin rubbed his own belly. “I’m watching my weight, too. I’ve watched this belly expand for years now.” He laughed, as did everyone else at the table.
“So, Cam and Ben told me you’d moved back,” Rhett said, going for another bite of stew. “From Los Angeles?”
She nodded. “Yes, a rather long story. I’m back. And, I’m truly surprised how much I enjoy living back in Pacific Bay.”
Nolan scraped the last bite from his plate. “You ready for some dessert?” he asked Stacey.
Pastor Riggin lifted from the table, his now empty plate in hand. “Heard they had some homemade marionberry ice cream. Who’s in?”
Stacey grinned. “Twist my arm!” She looked over at her mother as she gathered her things from the table and followed Pastor Riggin and Nolan from the table. “Despite what Mom says, I plan on not watching my weight until tomorrow.”
“Oh, to be that young again,” her mother said, sighing. “She makes fun of me for counting calories, but she won’t stay looking pencil-thin forever. Trust me on that.”
Rhett wanted to argue that point. Diane looked nearly the same as she had in high school. She was gorgeous then, and she still was. He was no stranger to beautiful women, but he was often one who judged a woman by her eyes. You could tell a lot about a person from their eyes.
