told that drunken coonass and-”
“Quiet!” Uncle Mutt bellowed. He leveled a hard glance at Sass. “You just hush about them, Sass. Rufus and Wendy have been wonderful to me. They live here, they see me every day. And not everybody at this table can make the same claim.”
Sass wasn't daunted, and she ignored Bob Don's plea to calm down. “Oh, so we don't live on your stupid island, we don't get as much consideration as the hired help?” I couldn't tell if anger or grief-or a combination of both- fueled her voice.
“I've known Rufus for fifty years. He's my oldest friend-”
Sass gulped at her Scotch. I saw her hand tremble. “Blood's thicker, Uncle Mutt.” Is it? I wondered. No one had embraced him. They all seemed frozen.
Sass continued:. “And then to put that little tramp-”
Uncle Mutt's fist thundered down on the table. “Hush! I won't have you talking about Wendy that way! Shut up right now!”
“Mother,” Aubrey ventured quietly, “I think we all need to take a rejuvenating, deep-lung breath, don't you?”
“Aubrey,” Sass said slowly, covering her face with her hands, “be quiet or I will slap the tar out of you. I don't want a rejuvenating breath. I don't want to deep-lung anything. Shut up.”
“Oh,” Lolly moaned. “Y'all stop bickering. I feel sick.” Philip got up and murmured to his aunt; no one else seemed overly alarmed by Lolly's illness-I wondered if she was the clan hypochondriac. Or perhaps they were too stunned after Mutt's showstopper announcement or no one felt particularly kindhearted toward her after her vicious monologue. I was bothered, though-Lolly's hand was pressed to her chest and she kept blinking, as though trying to clear her vision.
“I'm sorry, Lolly. I shouldn't have made it a shock to you-” Uncle Mutt stood. “Wendy!” he called.
The young woman who had been in the kitchen with Uncle Mutt ventured out into the dining room. I hadn't seen her since we started eating-the superb dinner had been set out on the sideboard buffet-style, and we'd all helped ourselves. But there was no doubt that she would have heard Sass's nasty comments.
She was stunning. Not in the casual way that some women are pretty-but in a knock-you-down-dead level of beauty, the kind of loveliness that a man might see just once and remember for decades. She was Vietnamese-her eyes brown and softly almond-shaped, the brows naturally delicate, her skin perfect, her hair a long, dark lank that framed her impeccable face. Her lips were razor thin, but strangely erotic. She wore a simple T-shirt dress, with a stained apron. She didn't look at Sass, who glared at her with undisguised dislike.
“Lolly's not feeling well. Would you help get her up to bed?”
“Of course, Mutt,” Wendy answered. Her voice wasn't a musical one-but steely-strong, determined, intelligent. She glanced at me as I stood, supporting Lolly.
“I'll help you-” I offered, and Lolly moaned, collapsing against me-and vomiting. I didn't have time to react; the warm, sour effluence splashed over my clothes. Her hand struck the table, hard and spasmodic, and her wineglass tumbled over, spreading a stain as red as blood across the immaculate linen. I quickly lowered her to the floor, turning her on her side so she didn't choke on her bile. When the spasm was done, she tried to gasp an apology but couldn't. Deborah pushed me out of the way and knelt by her great-aunt. She elevated her aunt's head and yanked open Lolly's blouse and pressed her fingers against the older woman's chest. I cradled Lolly's head in my lap.
“Call 911! Hurry!” Deborah ordered. Wendy dashed for the phone. “Help me here, Jordan. Loosen her clothing, keep her head up. It's going to be okay, Aunt Lolly.”
“We're on an island, Deb. Remember?” Sass said softly. She turned to Mutt. “Surely you've got a first-aid kit…” Mutt nodded and hurried into the kitchen.
I watched, stunned while Deborah cleaned the bile from Lolly's mouth. Lolly jerked spasmodically, murmuring, “Oh, my sweet Charles, oh my God, oh, Deb, you get away from me…”
“Now, Aunt Lolly, you're gonna be okay, you're gonna be okay-” Deb reassured her, but her eyes came up to mine and I saw a glint of panic behind the calm, professional facade. Heart attack. Maybe, her lips moved. I felt my own chest shudder. Tom, kneeling behind me, rose and rushed to Jake. They spoke softly, quickly, and then Tom bolted from the room.
“I know CPR.” Candace knelt beside us.
“We're not to that point yet,” Deborah whispered. “I'm an RN. Let's get her comfortable, see if we can calm her…”
I glanced at the others. Gretchen pressed against Bob Don, his arms wrapped around her. Philip and Aubrey stood together, stunned into stony silence. Sass stood apart, near the window, as though Lolly's condition might be contagious. Uncle Jake wavered on his cane, staring at Lolly with a mixture of shock and sorrow.
“Oh, God, oh, Charles, oh, where's Sweetie…?” Lolly Throckmorton moaned. “Oh, my blouse is open. Everyone will see my bra. Oh, dear.” Her hands painted figures in the air above her, pleadings with her fingers. Candace closed her hands around Lolly's and held them tightly.
The thudding of feet heralded Tom. He stumbled into the dining room, shock on his face, a pill bottle in his hand- and waved it back and forth.
“It's empty,” Tom panted. “It's gone. Where's the extra bottle, Uncle Jake?”
“No, that can't be.” Uncle Jake coughed. “It can't be gone-that's the only bottle.”
“What on earth-?” I began.
“Digoxin,” Jake called to Deb and me. “It's my heart medication-Tom thought it would help-”
“No, it won't. Too unpredictable,” Deb said. Lolly stopped breathing; I felt the shudder of her back against my knees. I moved back and Deb began the ritual of CPR.
Uncle Mutt and Wendy ran back into the room at the same time, her announcing that the Coast Guard was on its way from the station in Port O'Connor, him lugging a small satchel with a red cross on the side. He dumped the contents of the case open, fumbling madly through them, as though his sister's salvation lay among the scattered medications and bandages. I saw his hands shake above the spill.
“Do something!” he screamed at Deborah, who still concentrated on Lolly's still form. She did not look at her uncle and she pressed hard against Lolly's chest, counting out her own cadence to keep her aunt alive.
But the end came quickly. Louisa Goertz Throckmorton heaved and turned red. She spasmed and fell back against the floor, as though drifting into sleep.
I heard Gretchen murmur, “No. Oh, no,” behind me, and perhaps she was the next to realize that it was over. I felt numb to the bone and reached for the back of a chair to stand. I became aware that I reeked of Lolly's vomit.
Surprisingly, Aubrey helped me up, as though I were an old friend. A smile of disbelief played along his face.
Uncle Mutt kept repeating “No, no, no” as though it were some incantation to turn back time. Wendy drew close to him and took his hand. I looked over at Bob Don; he stared back at me, shock twisting his features into an empty glaze.
Deborah and Candace still worked feverishly over her, Deborah leaning on Lolly's chest. Only when Candace touched her shoulder and said, “I think she's gone,” did Deborah stop and listen to the silence in the throat and the chest. Despite the unpleasantness that had passed between them at dinner, Deborah began to cry softly over her aunt's body.
I sank into ray chair. A horrific quiet, like the still of the grave, permeated the house. It was as though we were all frozen into place. Except for Torn Bedrich, who quickly set down the empty Digoxin bottle as if it scalded his skin.
Nobody who has not been in the interior of a family can say what the difficulties of any individual of that family may be. -Jane Austen,
Emma
7
