Chapter 50 Tilley - Madness
TILLEY Madness
The good thing about living in a town as small as Cape Carolina was that it didn’t take long to find someone you were looking for.
Tilley knew her son, and she knew that, on a beautiful spring day like today, in the absence of a baseball game, he would likely sneak down to the dock at Dogwood for a few casts before heading home to his unruly pack of boys.
Tilley thought that was just fine. The man worked hard, and he deserved a few moments of peace before he went home to help with homework and activities.
But she wondered if Trina would be as forgiving if she knew.
No matter. Tilley had asked for heels to go with this particular Dolly costume, but Kate had insisted that perfectly matching gold sequined ballet shoes were the way to go. Tilley was happy about that fact now as she made her way through the grass, down to the dock, in the heavy gown and headdress.
The sun was just beginning to set, but still warm and high in the sky, and the water was impossibly clear as it lapped the shore.
She loved this time of year, before the busyness of summer, before boats were constantly whirring in and out of their little spot in paradise.
Robbie’s rod made a satisfying hiss as he cast perfectly, a skill that his father—or, well, his uncle, as it were—had taught him as soon as he could stand on his two chubby legs.
Tilley was surprised how well she remembered it all.
It had been so long ago, and she had been so consumed by her grief.
But she did. She remembered. And that made her happy.
When Robbie caught a glimpse of her, he did a double take.
He reeled in his line and, very slowly, propped his rod up on the counter that held the fish sink and walked toward her.
“Aunt Tilley, whatcha doing?” he asked. She could tell he was taking great pains to seem casual, and she felt guilty. But this had to be done.
“Oh, darling, call me Dolly! Dolly Levi.”
He cleared his throat. “Okay, Dolly,” he said carefully. “Are you sure? Because you’ve been Tilley for so long.”
He sounded sad, and it broke Tilley’s heart to disappoint him.
She was good, she wanted to tell him. She was as clear and lucid and, dare she say, happy as she had been in as long as she could remember.
She didn’t want to hurt him like this. But it was the best way, the only way to clear her conscience while also not destroying his life. The truth without the truth.
“You are such a good son to notice,” she said. There, she had broached it.
He looked puzzled for a moment, but then took a step closer. “Tilley, I’m your nephew, Robbie. Remember? Amelia is my sister. Your sister Elizabeth is my mom.”
Tilley shook her head. “No, you are my son. They took you away from me because they thought I couldn’t raise you.”
Robbie nodded slowly, and it concerned Tilley that there seemed to be the tiniest flash in his eyes, like maybe some small inside part of him believed her. But then he said, “Okay, Tilley. I mean Dolly. Let’s get you a tall glass of water in the house and get you some rest.”
Tilley decided that she would go for one last inflection point before she allowed him to take her away so that, if he ever looked back on this moment, if he ever discovered the truth, he would know she had tried to be honest with him.
“Robbie, sweetheart, my boyfriend died. I was all alone and drowning in my madness. And Elizabeth had to take you. It was the only way.”
Robbie shook his head and took her arm and led her up to the house. “It has been thirty years since I’ve seen that movie, but I swear I don’t remember that part.”
“What movie?” Tilley asked, playing dumb. This was perfect. It was exactly what she wanted. He thought she was playing a role, not unburdening herself of her deepest secret.
Elizabeth was sitting on the back porch of Dogwood and rushed down to help Robbie when she saw her sister in a sequined gown and a headdress of feathers.
It was incredible how, onstage, the costume could be so fabulously chic.
And then how, only hours later, in a totally inappropriate setting, it could be a symbol of certain madness.
Robbie shook his head at Elizabeth. “I haven’t seen her this bad in a long time.”
Tilley had acted before in her real life. Many, many times. But this, she believed, was the performance of her lifetime. She had told the truth, even if it wasn’t in the most honest way she could have. Robbie was still happy. Elizabeth was still happy. Tilley felt her conscience somewhat cleared.
She thought of George, who had called her every night since he had left town.
Who had sent her flowers and a bottle of bourbon.
And so, now, with her son handled, she had one more thing she needed to do, one more man she needed to let know of her intentions.
But not today. Because, for now, Elizabeth was babying her while chattering on that the play had been too much.
Even as her sister said it, Tilley knew she was wrong.
It was quite the opposite, in fact. The play hadn’t hurt her.
Not at all. The play had brought Tilley back to life.