The Guests on South Battery (Tradd Street #5)(104)
I looked up at her in surprise, and she grinned. “I’m not blind, Melanie. And the crumbs on your chin are usually a clue.”
For the first time in days, I felt both sides of my mouth lift in a smile. I dug through the contents of the bag, amazed at how thorough and accurate her selections were, down to the thick ski socks I liked to sleep in. I was about to zip up the bag when my fingers hit something hard. Pulling it out, I found the framed photo of Button and her brother, Sumter. I held it up, turning it to face Nola. “Why’d you bring this?”
Nola stilled. “I didn’t. Last time I saw it, it was on my dad’s desk. And I certainly didn’t pack it. Maybe it was in your drawer and I just didn’t notice when I reached in and grabbed something?”
I shook my head slowly, my focus drawn to the hand linked through Sumter’s, the only part visible of the woman cut out of the photo, part of her arm and her hand. It was the hand that drew my attention. It was long and slender, with narrow tapered nails that looked a lot like my own. But what really caught my gaze was the long oval ring on the middle finger that looked like onyx, with a small sparkling diamond in the middle.
“That’s the ring you wore to the party,” Nola said.
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
She took the frame from me and read the date from the front of the photograph. “March seventeenth, 1984. Were you alive back then?”
I knew she was joking, but I was too fixated on watching her flip it onto its back and open the clips that held the picture to the frame. “Look, Melanie—the photograph wasn’t cut to fit the frame. It was folded over.” She flattened the picture on her knee and looked at it for a long moment, before slowly turning back to me. “I think that’s Ginette.”
I took the photo and studied the original picture of three people, a stark white demarcation line where it had been folded and tucked inside a frame for three decades. I stared at the newly revealed image of the woman next to Sumter, watching it fade in and out of focus until I blinked. My mother’s face, a younger version than the one I knew now, stared out at me from the photograph, her hand now seeming possessive where it rested in the crook of Sumter’s arm. But it wasn’t just the fuller face, or softer cheeks, or even the absence of gloves that riveted me and made my suddenly dry tongue stick to the roof of my mouth. It was the obvious fact that my mother was very pregnant in this picture, taken almost a full decade after I was born.
A thud sounded behind us, and we twisted to see a small ball rolling on the rug before coming to a stop by my foot. It was the saltshaker from Lake Jasper, the printed date, May 30, 1984, faceup. My eyes met Nola’s. “I didn’t pack that, either,” she said, her voice shaky.
I picked it up and held it in the palm of my hand, the ceramic icy cold to the touch. “I didn’t think you did,” I said just as all the clocks in my mother’s house began to chime four o’clock.
CHAPTER 30
After Nola left, I took a quick shower and changed into yoga pants and my favorite sweater. I even brushed my teeth. I took my time, trying to prepare myself for the conversation I needed to have with my mother. Thankfully, my father was gone all day at a garden show in Savannah, so that at least was one conversation I could postpone or avoid altogether.
Before heading downstairs, I emptied the bag, wanting to mentally prepare myself for a lengthy stay by putting my things away in drawers. At the bottom of the bag I was surprised to find the grocery bag containing the snow globe bottoms. I quickly texted Nola to see if she had actually packed them and was relieved when I received her response saying that she had because they’d become one of Sarah’s favorite games and Nola thought she might want them. I shoved them in the back of my dresser drawer where hopefully Sarah would never know they were there, then went slowly down the stairs, carrying the baby monitor with me.
I found my mother in her garden, sipping hot tea and reading a novel, looking elegant and poised. She looked up at me and smiled. “You’re looking better, dear. Nothing like what a shower and a fresh change of clothes can do for a person.” She indicated the seat next to her and I sat. “Would you like some tea? And I just took some homemade shortbread out of the oven, so it’s still warm.”
“No, thanks,” I said, placing the monitor on the table and making sure the volume was up.
“Something must be really wrong if you’re saying no to sugar.” Her soft laugh faded quickly when she saw that I hadn’t joined her. “What is it, Mellie? Did Nola say something that upset you?”
I shook my head. “No. But this was in the bag she brought over, although she swears she didn’t pack it.” I took the saltshaker out of the sweater’s deep pocket and held it up in front of her to show her the word Lake Jasper on one side and the handwritten date on the other. I didn’t expect her to touch it without her gloves, and she didn’t.
Her face paled slightly when she read the date. As if it meant something to her. “Where did that come from?”
“Button’s house. Jack borrowed it, so it was on his desk, and then managed to find its way into the overnight bag that Nola packed for me.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the photograph, sliding it on the table toward her. “And so was this.”
She looked down at the photograph, and her hand started to shake. I took the teacup from her fingers and placed it on the saucer. “That’s you,” I said. It wasn’t a question. “In 1984. Which I can’t understand because I was always led to believe that I was an only child.”