“You can’t stay here,” Felicia insisted. “Does it even have plumbing? Or electricity? Tell her, Shug.”
“It actually does have plumbing. And electricity, although we probably need to update the panel. Homer was living here until he got too sick and moved over to hospice. It hasn’t been empty but a couple of years.”
“Okay, but it’s gonna need a lot of work before it’s even remotely habitable. It’ll probably take months and months. And where will you stay in the meantime? You can’t get up and down the stairs at Josephine’s house.”
“Plenty of room at our place,” Shug said. “The kids and grandkids hardly come over at all anymore ’cause they’ve got sports and all that. Louette’s gonna be getting lonesome without having Josephine to look after and cook for.”
“Oh no, we couldn’t put you out,” Felicia started.
“We got two guest rooms. Plenty of room for both of y’all,” Shug said.
“Thank you, baby,” Varina said, beaming at her benefactor.
“Auntie, that’s just not possible,” Felicia said. “It’s sweet of Shug to offer, but I’m your caregiver, and I have to work.”
Varina’s jaw set stubbornly. “Didn’t you tell me you do all your teaching on a computer now? And don’t they have computers and all that here on Talisa?”
“Yes, ma’am, we got Wi-Fi here,” Shug said. “Me and Louette FaceTime the grandkids all the time on our computer.”
“See that?” Varina nodded enthusiastically. “So it’s all set, then. We can go on back to Jacksonville today and pack up our stuff and then be back for the morning ferry. Isn’t that a blessing?”
Lizzie grinned and poked Felicia in the ribs. “Sounds like a blessing to me.”
42
The ferry was waiting at the dock, along with a crowd of three dozen passengers—campers, day-trippers, and a group of middle-aged bird-watchers bristling with cameras, binoculars, and backpacks. Brooke was surprised to see just how large the ferry was, a gleaming white affair with two observation decks, with the name painted in large letters across the stern: The Miss Elsie Bettendorf.
“I wonder if that was Josephine’s mother,” Marie said as the group approached the boarding dock.
“That’s right. Miss Elsie was Josephine’s mama,” Varina said, coming slowly up beside them. “Those state people thought they were buttering Josephine up, naming the ferry after Miss Elsie, but that made her madder than a mule with a mouthful of bumblebees. She wrote all kind of letters trying to make them change the name, but it was too late. She wouldn’t even get near this new ferry, no matter what.”
“I guess it’s a good thing Josephine’s not still alive to know that her final trip across the river was on The Miss Elsie,” Felicia said.
“Ooh, child,” Varina said, chuckling despite herself. “She’d come back and haunt us all.”
*
They found an empty row of shaded wooden seats on the first deck.
“Remind me why you’re going back across to the mainland, since you’re staying on at Shellhaven?” Felicia asked Lizzie.
“Supplies,” Lizzie said, ticking off her list. “Cat food for Dweezil, a few more clothes, including a bathing suit, since I only packed enough stuff for the weekend, white wine, tequila, Xanax … just the basics.”
Felicia cocked her head and regarded Lizzie with real interest. “So you’re going to write a magazine article about Josephine and Talisa? Seriously? Who’d want to read about some backwater island in the middle of nowhere?”
“Who wouldn’t? This story has more turns and twists than a daytime soap opera, but the best part is, it’s all true. Just look at the latest development: this C. D. character coming to Brooke and Gabe this morning to say that he’s Josephine’s long-lost son and only living heir. How surreal is that?”
“Oh, please,” Felicia said with a snort. “If he’s kin to Josephine, I’m Diana Ross.”
“What did you just say?” Varina leaned forward from her seat next to Felicia to face Lizzie. “Who’s kin to who?”
Lizzie raised her voice and enunciated slowly. “I said C. D. is now claiming to be Josephine’s son.”
Varina’s eyes behind her thick-lensed glasses widened. “Oh no. That can’t be right. That boy is crazy. What’s he saying that for?”
“Easy. For the money,” Felicia said, frowning. “He wants to inherit the house, the island, Josephine’s money, all of it.” She glared in Gabe’s direction. “Just because somebody didn’t get her will signed and witnessed before she died.”
Gabe flushed slightly but said nothing.
“Brooke, Mr. Gabe, did that man really say Josephine was his mama?” Varina asked.
“That’s his story,” Brooke said. “It’s kind of complicated, but in a nutshell, C. D. says he believes that Josephine abandoned him as an infant—left him in a church in Savannah. The church turned him over to a Catholic orphanage there, and they, in turn, placed him in Good Shepherd Home for Boys, where he lived until he ran away at sixteen.”
“No, no, no,” Varina insisted. She clenched the wooden bench slats with both hands. “That’s not true. It can’t be true. I would have known.” She continued, shaking her head, “How old is that man?”
“He told me this weekend that he’s seventy-six. Born in ’42, I think he said.”
Varina’s forehead puckered in distress.“See, that’s a lie. No, ma’am. Josephine never had no baby, never. I would have known if she’d had a child. She didn’t even meet Mr. Preiss until the war was over.”
“His story is pretty far-fetched,” Marie said gently, “but isn’t it just possible that since Josephine was unmarried, she would have kept her pregnancy a secret because of the scandal? She could have told you and everybody else that she was going away to ‘visit family.’ That’s what young girls did back then. At one time, there was even a home for unwed mothers, The Florence Crittenton home, just a few blocks from my house in Ardsley Park, where girls went to have their babies. Afterward, the babies were adopted and the girls went back home and nobody was any wiser.”
“I don’t care. It’s a lie. That man is telling a lie,” Varina said angrily.
Lizzie leaned back and stretched and yawned. “I think I’ll see about renting a car. That way I can shoot up to Savannah this week to try to verify C. D.’s story.”
Gabe reached into his pocket and brought out a plastic bag containing two smaller plastic bags.
“You can double-check his story if you like. I think it’s a good idea. But in the meantime, I took the liberty of getting Louette to collect some of Josephine’s hair from her hairbrush. And I paid a visit to C. D., who, after some persuading, donated a bit of that ponytail of his.”
“Hair?” Varina wrinkled her nose. “What are you gonna do with that?”
“It’s for DNA testing, Auntie,” Felicia said.
“I’ll send it off to a testing laboratory, and they should be able to tell us whether or not C. D. is related to Josephine,” Gabe explained.
“I don’t need a bag of hair to tell you that,” Varina said. “Because that man is definitely no kin to Josephine Warrick.” Her hands shook slightly as she gesticulated.
Felicia placed a hand on her aunt’s arm. “Auntie, I think we need to test your blood sugar and see if it’s time for your meds. Let’s go to the ladies’ room. Okay?”
The old woman was still muttering under her breath as her great-niece helped her to her feet and they began making their laborious way to the ferry’s restroom.
*
After the ferry landed and their group had disembarked, Brooke motioned for Lizzie to follow them to her car. “I don’t think you’ll be able to rent a car in St. Ann’s. We might need to take you to Brunswick to the airport for that.”
“I’m headed back to St. Simon’s, so Brunswick is on my way, and I’m happy to give you a ride,” Gabe said.
“Fine with me,” Lizzie said. She turned and watched as Felicia tried to juggle two overnight bags and Varina. “Let me go see if I can give those two a hand.”
“You’re not going back to Savannah?” Brooke asked Gabe.