THE HEALING OF ROBERT KINSTON

By Atonia Walpole

PART 3:

He woke, stretched, and kicked the comforter to the other side of the bed. It was light out and he thought it must be around seven. He never looked at a clock anymore unless he was due to be somewhere and that didn’t happen very often anymore. Padding to the kitchen barefoot in a pair of flannel pajama pants, he started the coffee pot then went to clean his teeth.  Milford followed him in the bathroom, winding around his legs.

“Hey,  ‘mornin’, Milford. What’s on your mind?” He walked back to the kitchen and poured out a cup of coffee. Milford ran to the glass door opening to the screened porch. That’s when Robbie noticed her placing something on a table. It was his neighbor, Lisa Holland. Wondering what she was doing on his porch early in the day, he went to find out.

“Hello,” he said, opening the door.

“Oh, I wasn’t expecting to see you!” Especially so much of him, no shirt. “I brought you a plant basket. I make them up at the greenhouse.”

“A plant basket, huh?” He strolled out on the porch, looking over her shoulder.

“Um, yeah, it won’t require much attention, just water and a little food once a month.”

“You mean I have to feed it? What does it eat?” he asked, taking a sip of his coffee and looking over his cup.

His eyes were very clear and bright. “Plant food. I have a packet tucked down in here. Just mix it with water. I thought…since you bought a plant you must like plants…so it’s kinda a welcome to the neighborhood plant…yeah.” She smiled, looking up from under a fringe of ginger-colored hair.

“Thanks. I’m not a plant person, actually. There was that pot that was empty. You may have to, um, come back and take care of them for me.”

She noticed the chill bumps across his shoulders and arms. “I should be going. I’m on my way to work and you look like you’re freezing." Her eyes traced downward to the dark hair below his navel.

“What time do you have to be there? Maybe you’ve got time for a cup of coffee?”

“No, I, um, don’t drink coffee. Coke person. I need to go.” She picked up her bag, threw it on her shoulder and turned to leave.

“Lisa, thank you. That was a very thoughtful thing to do,” he said softly.

She was embarrassed for the thoughts she had. “Um, yeah…see you, Robbie.” Lisa opened the screen door and ran down the steps to her car.

Robbie turned the basket around and smiled. Milford decided since Robbie was up it was time to eat, and drew him back inside to the kitchen.

“Woo hoo,” Lisa said backing out of his drive. “I coulda warmed him up, oh, yes.” His image stayed in her mind across the bridge into Beaufort.  She was still trying to figure out a way to make something happen when she pulled into the yard of the nursery.

Robbie had been back to the bookstore and bought two more books on the local area. Somewhere back in his mind wheels were beginning to turn. He’d never written an historical tale before, but something was pulling him in that direction.

He met Jon Cromer for lunch at The Bank in Beaufort.

“I don’t know if you have any plans for Thanksgiving, Robbie, but I do a dinner for a few friends. Why not come over?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I might not be good company for a holiday meal.”

“It ain’t what you think. I don’t do a traditional meal and the folks who come over are all misfits like us.”

“Is that what we are, misfits?”

“Hell, yeah, and there’s more of us than you’d think.” Jon rattled his empty tea glass and waited until it was refilled. “I got word my daughter ain’t comin’ down so I thought, huh, I can do my own thing.”

“I’ve got a neighbor bringing me plants,” offered Robbie, hoping for a bit of information about Lisa.

“Uh huh, that’d be Lisa Holland. Works over to the nursery on highway 17. She’s a local military brat that stayed on. Cute little thing. She works at Rafters on the weekend. That’s a local hangout I’ll take you to. You got something going there, Robbie?”

“No…just thought she was nice.”

“She mainly dates military. Might want to keep that in mind.”

“Is that a problem?” he wondered.

“Not for me. They’re big boys, that’s all. I ain’t about to get between them and…well whatever it is she’s dishin’ out.”

Robbie raised his brows and drank his iced tea. “So what makes us misfits, Jon?”

“General age, no worthwhile profession, present company excepted, you know. Mostly single for whatever reason, good people, Robbie.”

Robbie smiled, “I’m not sure I have a profession.”

“See there, you’ll fit right in.” Jon pointed his fork.

Not for the first time Robbie noticed Jon’s clothes, white shirt, khaki shorts and boat shoes. “Silly question, but is that a uniform you wear?”

Jon laughed, “Left over from college, Robbie. I must have a dozen or more white shirts and shorts , bought at the same time all just alike. Makes dressin’ simple in the mornin’,” he grinned. “It's my signature look, don’t you know.”

Robbie laughed and considered him for a minute. It was a calculated look for a man who knew exactly what he was about.

Thanksgiving Day started with a drizzle, the clouds piled up thick over the ocean. Robbie began with a run on the little strip of beach that surrounded the point around to the washed-out area and back. He glanced toward the direction Lisa had walked the first time he’d seen her with her dog. The faint outline of a house painted blue could be seen through the trees.  He ran back past his house and went in the other direction, coming up to a long dock that stretched out to the water. It was marshier on this side of the island that faced Lady’s Island.

Showered and carrying his two bottles of wine, he left for Jon’s place. His yard was full of cars of every description and Robbie parked on the curb. He was met at the door by a man with a limp. “Bill Sellers,” the man said, extending his hand.

Jon came through the house. “Robbie, glad you could make it! Come on through. Most of the guys are on the deck. Kitchen is full of women, as it should be.”

“I heard that,” came a cry from the kitchen.  Robbie was passed through the kitchen and introduced to Patty at the sink, Cheryl in the fridge and Jill coming from the pantry. Robbie spoke to each until he was introduced to Jill. Neither of them spoke when their eyes met. He felt it and wondered if she did, too. It was like a motor being turned on a low hum, a slight vibration. He felt a little disturbed and turned back again to look at her as he was led out on the deck.  He was introduced around again to three men and a woman smoking a cigarette. He noticed her eyes never left Jon, dark eyes, long dark hair that fell over her shoulders and down her back. Her name was Marion.

“This here is going to be a deep-fried turkey,” Jon said, lifting the lid off a huge pot out in the yard. And over here in this pot is going to be Beaufort Stew.”  Robbie had never had a deep-fried turkey but had some idea about the stew. “It’s all pot luck. I have no idea what’s comin’ from my kitchen.” He looked up and grinned.

As the afternoon wore on and food was finally set out in the kitchen buffet style, with a stack of paper plates and napkins at one end of the counter and assorted salads and casseroles leading up to the now-carved turkey. The Beaufort Stew was served in a huge aluminum bowl out on the deck at a table with a hole in the middle. Jon explained it was the shrimp and crab leg table, a trashcan set underneath the hole to catch the shells.

Jill kept her distance from Robbie. For one thing she was shy and the other was the instant attraction. She didn’t want to see his eyes again. She came back to the kitchen and was trying to open one of the bottles of wine he’d brought. Digging through Jon’s kitchen drawers she finally came across a corkscrew.

“Here let me do that,” Robbie said, reaching for the corkscrew.

“I can do it,” she replied, not looking at him.

“Can I watch?” he asked, leaning against the counter.

“Why? You don’t trust me?”

“No, maybe you want to steal it and run.”

“Funny you should say that…run.” She glanced up quickly, the curtain of blond hair hiding most of her face.

“I can’t figure this one out,” she said turning the corkscrew around in her hand.

“It’s all about pressure. Let me show you…may I?”

Jill backed up and handed him the bottle and corkscrew. She leaned against the fridge and watched his hands on the bottle. As she looked up, his hair was falling over his face, and she could smell the clean crisp scent he wore. “No…” she told herself and turned, opening cabinets looking for wine glasses.

When she held out a glass he took it, enclosing her hand in his as he filled it with red wine. “I want to see you again,” he heard himself say.

“No…no it’s too soon…" She took the glass from him, turned and went into the den, finding a seat on the sofa between two others.

Robbie still held the bottle in his hand. Feeling his heart slow, he set it down. “Go” he told himself, “Leave now.”

“Well, Robbie, enjoying yourself?” Jon was back in the kitchen.

“Uh yeah, Jon, thanks for inviting me. It’s been great but I think I probably need to go.”

“Man, the party is just getting started. Don’t poop out on me. What’s wrong?” he asked, moving closer.

“Oh, nothing…”

“Is it Jill? Alright, listen, take it slow and easy. I saw her come out of here. She’s getting over a bad connection. Robbie, have a glass of wine.” He poured it out and handed it to him. “She’s a real nice lady, real nice.”

“Yeah,” Robbie took a drink of the wine. “I was going to ask you about Marion. She your girl?”

Jon took a long drink from his beer bottle and set it down. The look he gave Robbie was unreadable. “I don’t have a girl. I know her, known her for a long time. She lives out on Fripp.”

“Sorry, I just thought…”

“I know, so does everybody else, but it ain’t so. She’s the one broke up my happy home here. She came with Bill Sellers. Let’s leave it at that.” He turned to go and then turned back.  “I would advise you to watch your back around her. I didn’t invite her today but I ain’t the kinda guy to make a scene, you know?”

Robbie didn’t answer, just finished his wine and looked for his jacket. He’d had enough intrigue for one night.

He turned down the dirt road that led to his house and rounding a turn, saw tail lights in front of him and slowed. They seemed to weave slightly so he waited to see where the vehicle was going. It stopped in the road and the door opened. Lisa walked back to his vehicle and Robbie rolled the window down.

“Hey, you going home?” he asked.

“Ye-ah, trying to get there. Happy Thanksgiving,” she said, leaning against his door.

“Where have you been?” he asked. She was slightly drunk.

“Been to my Dad’s in Port Royal. How about you?”

“Lady’s Island. We can’t sit here in the middle of the road.”

“You’re right. I’ll get along down my little path up here.” She turned to go back to her car.

Robbie stuck his head out his window, “Lisa…keep going…all the way to the end.”

“Yes, sir, I can do that.”

LATER...

Robbie rolled off her, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted, turning to her, “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

She giggled, “I think I probably did.” She drew her knees up. “You’re a good fuck, Robbie.”

Robbie closed his eyes and started to giggle, the giggle building until it erupted over both of them. A release of a different kind.

PART 4:

Robbie pulled into the parking area off Bay Street and walked around to the sidewalk. He thought he’d seen a familiar face. Walking quickly down the block, he saw her again coming out of a gallery and going to the trunk of her car.

Jill picked up a box, set it down on the curb and closed her trunk. Robbie caught up with her. “Good morning,” he said, “need some help?”

Jill brushed the hair out of her face. “Do I always look like I need help?”

“I just thought maybe I’d carry the box for you.”

“Okay, follow me.” Jill led him into the small gallery. It was crowded with displays along the wall and down the center of the store, handmade jewelry and crafts.

“Hello, Jill,” greeted the girl behind the counter.

“Hi, Wynn, I’m changing out the back wall. Maybe this will sell.”

Robbie carried the box to the back and set it on a stool. “Is this your work?”

“Yes, I’m a potter.”

“It’s very nice.” He picked up a plate and ran his hand over it, feeling the cool smooth matte surface of blues and greens with a hint of sand color along one side with impressions of shells here and there.

Jill took the plate from him. “Guess people don’t want beach in the winter.”

“I wouldn’t think it was seasonal,” he said.

“You’d be surprised what people think.”

“No doubt I would…but then I’m not people.”

Jill was busy unpacking the new dinner service and some odd-shaped pieces in red and green. “What are you then, a new species?”

“I think I might be.” He stepped back out of her way. “What will you do with these?” he asked, picking up another bowl.

“Pack them away and bring them out again in summer.”

“I came in for breakfast. Would you like to join me?” he asked, handing her the bowl.

“No thanks, I’ve already eaten.”

“But you could keep me company, have a cup of coffee.”

“I appreciate the invitation, Robbie, but I have things to do today, sorry.”

“Okay, maybe some other time then?”

“Look, I’m not trying to be rude, but I don’t think so. Please just don’t.”

“Sure, I’ll leave you alone then.” He stood there, watching her for a minute, then turned and left.

Jill leaned against the wall, wrapping her trembling hands around her body.

Robbie walked down the street and crossed to the breakfast nook. Something about that woman made him want to put his arms around her, protect her. He remembered Jon’s comment about a ‘bad connection,’ and wondered exactly what he meant.

After his meal he walked back to the gallery. Her car was gone so he went inside and looked around. Jill had another display similar to the “beach” ware. The plates were  done in greens with fern leaf imprints. He asked about buying a set of the dinnerware.

“We have a setting for four available with the serving pieces you see there. Would you like to purchase it?” asked Wynn, coming from behind the counter.

“Yes, I would and I would appreciate it if you don’t tell her who bought it.”

“Okay…are you a friend of hers?”

Robbie smiled, “Not yet.”

Robbie unwrapped the set of dinnerware and set the pieces out on his dining room table. He loved the colors and the feel of the plates and the fact that Jill had created them.

“No more eating out of a pot, Milford. We’re going to clean up our act here.”

Milford jumped up in a chair to see what was going on with the paper on the table.

“Here, you have the box.” Robbie set the box on the floor and Milford jumped inside, sniffed around and curled up.

Included in the wrappings was a card, Jill’s card, giving the name of her pottery and an email address. He smiled slightly and took it to his office, placing it by his computer.  He couldn’t explain his attraction to her. They had hardly spoken, but it was a living, beating thing within him.

Robbie finished up his dinner, and after taking care of the check, he wandered out to the waterfront, finding a swing seat. The wind was up this evening, blowing his hair about. He noticed the woman leaning against the concrete railing next to the water, her long hair blowing behind her. Soon she turned and walked toward him.

“Hi, mind if I sit with you? I’m Marion. I met you at Jon’s on Thanksgiving.”

“I remember you. Sure, have a seat.” Robbie brushed his hair back with his hand.

“Have you settled in?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” He studied her face in the glow from the overhead lights.

She looked back toward the water. “I saw you with Jill…poor wounded bird…but then we’re all wounded, aren’t we?”

Robbie was quiet for a moment. “Are we?”

She laughed, “Of course, we may not all wear it like a cloak. Have you seen Jon lately?”

“Um no, not since Thanksgiving. Why do you call Jill a wounded bird?”

“So…you are interested! She was greatly abused, you know, ended up in the hospital. Men can be such animals.  I’m surprised Jon didn’t tell you about her. He knows everything about everybody…except me. He doesn’t know all about me. No, not all.” She smiled and pulled her jacket closer around her neck. “You’re a strange one, Robbie. I wonder why you’re here.” She looked into his face and tilted her head.

“I have to be somewhere. I like it here.” He smiled and gazed toward the water.

“Yes, but here of all places. Why didn’t you move back to your home in Florida?”

“How do you know where I come from?”

“Easy. I looked you up. Nobody is anonymous anymore.”

“I’ve lived in Florida, I haven’t lived here. I wanted someplace different.”

“Different…it’s all the same no matter where you go. I’ve been here for fifteen years, out on Fripp Island, and really it could be anywhere. It could be Hilton Head. I used to write, you know. I did, but not anymore. I have a little shop out on Fripp and sometimes I write for Jon, just a little neighborhood thing. He hasn’t asked for a column in some time. I think he’s mad at me. Somehow I am going to have to fix that.” She lit a cigarette and offered one to Robbie, who declined.

“You’ve known Jon for some time?” Robbie asked.

“Yes, we were lovers once…in another life…another place. I followed him here, you see. Maybe you don’t see. It doesn’t matter.  I will have him again.” She said it with conviction, dashed out her cigarette and stood up. “I’ll see you around, Robbie.”

“I’m sure you will, Marion.” Robbie watched her walk away.

He sat for a while longer, digesting what Marion had said. She was a strange one, too. Jon had not been exactly straight-forward about Marion. They did have a history.  His mind turned to Jill.  Jill had been abused. That accounted for the wall around her that he felt.  Standing and walking slowly down the waterfront park to the parking area, he thought about her and how he could get over that wall.

Jill washed the clay from her hands and tidied the table in her work shop. She turned off the light and locked the door, walking the short distance to her little house. She stopped, seeing a lighted cigarette on her front porch. The old panic set in and she could hardly breathe by the time she reached the side of the house. She knew it wasn’t him…still.

“Jill, that you? I saw your lights on and walked over. Didn’t want to bother you while you were working.”

“Jon, you gave me a fright.”

“I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t think. You’re all right now. You know that, don’t you?”

Jill walked over and sat beside him on the steps. “I know, Jon. I still get panic attacks, but I’m getting better. What brings you over?”

Jon’s newspaper office was across the street on the corner. “Boredom, I guess. I thought about going into Beaufort and then thought I wouldn’t. Have you eaten?”

Jill smiled, “You’re always up for food, aren’t you, Jon?”

“Hey,I’m a growing boy! Have you?”

“No, not since breakfast. I could fix something.”

“I could take you out, nothing fancy…even a burger.”

“Let me get out of these overalls. I’ll be right back.”

Jon waited on the steps for Jill to change.

Jill was back in less than ten minutes. “I’m ready. Have you decided where we’re going?”

“Let’s go down to Nancy’s. I don’t feel like crowds tonight.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, Jon, for coming by.” Jill smiled up at him on the way to his car. Jon, her knight in shining armor, her savior, the man who saved her life.

ON TO PART 5

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