When I got to the front door, I reached for the handle knowing that it would be locked but I still went through the motions anyway. To my surprise, it opened.
Holy shit!
I turned around triumphantly and waved at Fox. I watched as he backed out onto the street and honked once before I drove away. My victory was short lived when I saw the door led to a tiny mudroom not very wide, I stepped forward to try the actual front door and that was definitely locked. I sat in the little room until the rain lessened and then I walked to the side porch and sat on the swing where I eventually fell asleep to the churning of waves and the sprinkling of rain on the rooftop.
Chapter Five
I awoke to the sun warming my toes and the breeze brushing my face. I sat up and looked around. The beach was empty, and I wondered what time it was. Pulling my cell out of the front pocket of my purse, I saw that it was dead. After searching around the cottage, I found an outdoor outlet right next to the sliding glass door, so I plugged in my phone. I tried to see if I could get lucky again and find an open window, but the place was locked up tight. From what I could see from the outside, the cottage looked like it was being used as a vacation rental. The furniture inside was sparse and beachy. Everything was in neutral colors and had an impersonal feel. I remembered Gram’s big, ugly floral couch and the round oak dining room table where we played monopoly and checkers.
My last memory of being here was the summer I turned ten. My parents brought me here to spend t
ime with my Gram. I was excited to visit her and the beach. Daddy told me that she rented out her house in Charleston and moved out to the island to live year-round. I liked the house in the city, but I loved the beach house. Mama and Daddy stayed for a few days before they left to go away on business. We all played board games at the table and ate huge dinners every night. Gram showed me how to look for sand dollars and other unique shells.
I was an only child and my parents often left me for weeks at a time with family members, usually Gram. Sometimes a lady I called Aunt Jackie, although I realized later that Jackie was just a close friend to my mother and not a relative. Whenever Mama and Daddy came home, we always had a big celebration, they would take me to the toy store and let me pick out as many toys as my heart desired. I used to feel like the luckiest kid in the world, but that summer, they never came to pick me up from Gram’s and all our lives changed.
Pushing away the memories, I decided to head out for a swim. I did a quick look around and didn’t notice anyone else nearby, so I removed my maxi dress, leaving on my matching bra and panties. From far away, I felt they might pass for a bikini. I dove into the cool water and swam. I had no idea what my next step would be. Had I plan to squat outside the cottage forever? I only managed to steal a few hundred dollars from Mack’s wallet, which I knew wouldn’t get me far. When my stomach started to growl, I was reminded that I hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday and only that consisted of a couple of bags of peanuts Fox had gotten from the vending machine before the power went out. I swam back to the shore, dried off as much as I could by using my dress as a towel. I pulled a wrinkled cotton tank, a pair of shorts and a fresh bra and panty set out of my bag. Then I brushed my hair and left it loose to air dry. I wrung out my wet clothes and stuffed them into my bag before throwing it on my shoulder. I debated on leaving my stuff here, but since I wasn’t sure what my next move would be, I decided to take it along.
I cautiously followed the road as I kept Fox’s warning about crazy drivers in mind. Luckily, there weren’t many cars out. I imagined that most people were on the beach. When I reached the town, a small restaurant with wooden picnic tables immediately stood out. It looked like they were just opening for business. My stomach growled louder with each step that brought me closer to the delicious scent of whatever was wafting from the kitchen. I opened the wooden gate, stepped onto the patio and headed for the order counter. There were several stools in front of me, so I plopped down on one and studied the menu. Everything seemed mouthwatering, but I had a craving for bacon.
“Mornin’, honey,” an older lady with a bouncing blonde ponytail and heavy mascara called out as she walked to stand in front of me. The name tag on her T-shirt said, Annette.
“Mornin’.” I smiled at her.
“What can I getcha?” Annette asked.
“Bacon. What do you have that involves bacon?”
“Shoot, honey, I can throw bacon on just ’bout anything. Whatcha in the mood for?” She chuckled as she went over the morning breakfast specials. When I had finally decided on a breakfast sandwich with scrambled eggs and bacon, she winked and me and said, “Be back in a flash.” I smiled because her heavy Southern accent reminded me of Gram. I instantly felt comfortable.
When Annette returned with my sandwich I nibbled as she talked my ear off about random things. She asked where I was from, I told her Charleston. She then asked my last name, I gave it to her after a little hesitation. I knew there was no way she could make a connection.
“Wyatt,” I replied.
“Wyatt, like. W-Y-A-T-T?”
I nodded slowly because I didn’t know there was another way to spell it.
“Hmm, I went to school with a William Wyatt. I believe he moved up to Charleston, you any relation?”
I shook my head. “Nope, don’t know William.”
“Hey, Hal,” Annette hollered over her shoulder. “What’s the girl’s last name that used to mess around with Petey, Bonnie I think? Her last name was Wyatt, right?
“Nah, I think it was Wilson.” A deep voice replied from somewhere the kitchen.
“Yeah, I think you’re right. It was Wilson.” Annette shrugged. I never understood why Southern people always tried to come up with connections that linked them to one another. It was as if knowing your family name gave them insight into the type of person you were. I was confident that if she’d made the connection to my family, her assumptions about me would be accurate.
Soon people started filing onto the patio and Annette became a blonde blur as she whizzed by me and into the kitchen, all smiles, and jokes. I could tell that she really enjoyed her job. The growing crowd was starting to make me feel uncomfortable, so I discretely wrapped up the other half of my sandwich in a napkin and shoved it in my bag.
“Thanks again, Annette,” I called out and pointed to the money I was leaving on the counter to cover the bill and a tip.
“Sure thing, baby doll!” She waved at me and smiled.
As soon as I stepped out onto the main street, I tried to decide my next move. I wandered around aimlessly for a while, window-shopping, and people watching. I noticed the ferry come and go four times that day and not once did I get on board.
****
“What time is it, Hal?” I called out to my new best friend. Hal, the best bartender slash short-order cook in the world. No, the best bartender slash short-order cook since the beginning of time. He reminded me of Tom Cruise in the movie Cocktail except Hal was African-American and looked like a bodybuilder. See, just like Tom Cruise but completely different. Hal glanced down at his watch then called over his shoulder.