Return to Sullivans Island by Dorothea Benton Frank Read Free Book Online Page A

Yes, it was the funeral. But you surely didn’t have all this and this! My word, honey!” Her accusing hand demonstrated she meant to remark on, yes, Beth’s breasts and, yes, her hair. It was as though her body was a dartboard and anyone who wanted to could just lob a shot her way.
    “I really wish she hadn’t called him that,” she said under her breath, feeling nauseated.
    “You shouldn’t call Tom a sumbitch, Allison,” Grant said, having caught what Beth mumbled. “It’s bad juju to speak ill of the dead.”
    Grant was next to Beth and she was trying hard not to look at him so he wouldn’t see how upset she was.
    “Oh, screw you, Grant,” Allison said, and pulled her hair up into a ponytail, holding it with one hand. “Like you all don’t do it all the time? Why is it so sticky here? I don’t remember it being this sticky.”
    “It’s the real beach, Al,” Henry said, and rolled his eyes. “There’s no humidity in Coral Gables?”
    “Oh, fine. Well, I was just saying that the last time I saw Beth she was only a little girl and now she’s all grown up. I mean, look at her!”
    Every eye turned to Beth and she wanted to disappear. She felt like she must have been purple with embarrassment. God, she thought, I really, really hate her guts right now.
    “What do you mean, Allison?” Maggie said. “That’s all y’all gonna eat? I think Beth’s grown into a perfectly magnificent young woman, don’t you, Sophie? Come on and let’s fix y’all a decent plate.”
    Maggie had temporarily redeemed herself to Beth, but Beth didn’t know if she would ever feel all right about her Aunt Allison.
    “I do. Don’t mind your Aunt Allison,” Sophie said. “The filter between her brain and her mouth appears to be malfunctioning.” Sophie popped a hush puppy into her mouth and watched while Maggie loaded her plate with meager portions— lady servings, she would call them.
    “It’s okay,” Beth said.
    But it wasn’t okay. Beth didn’t care so much what Allison thought about her, but she really, truly, seriously, and deeply minded that she unapologetically referred to her father as a filthy rotten son of a bitch . How many times had she asked them not to say terrible things about her father?
    “I’ll get my own food, thanks,” Allison said to Maggie. “So what are the sleeping arrangements?” She scooped salad into a small mound on her plate and took a sliver of fish.
    “Aunt Sophie can sleep with me,” Beth said, knowing it was the last available portion of a mattress. She was attempting to get back in the conversation without her anger showing.
    “Fun! It will be like old times!” Sophie said.
    “We weren’t sure you were even coming, Allison,” Maggie said with a theatrical sigh, leaning against the table. “You never returned any of my calls.”
    Was there a reprimanding tone in Maggie’s voice? Yes ma’am. Maybe she was sticking it to Allison on my behalf, Beth thought. Although she knew Maggie enjoyed giving Allison a little grief just on general principles.
    “Oh, I see. Well, fine then,” Allison said, equally dramatically, sitting on a corner of the sofa eating her salad with her fingers. “I don’t have to stay here at all then, do I?”
    “Actually, you and Aunt Sophie can have my bed and I’ll sleep down the island,” Beth said. “No problem.”
    “Excuse me? You think I’m sleeping with my sister in the same bed? I don’t think so. What are we? Twelve years old?”
    What a bitch, Beth thought. Allison was worse than ever. It wasn’t like her bed was crawling with cooties or something.
    “Now, see here,” Henry said in his most authoritative voice.
    “See here what, Henry? Oh! Are you warming up a little lecture for the occasion?”
    Allison was on a roll.
    The chatter stopped and everyone watched as Allison stood and locked her jaw, working up steam for one of her notorious snits, shifting her weight from foot to foot and crossing her arms so tightly that her