Chapter 72
It turns out that the one thing Babe learned from our father was how to deal with money.
He had left her with instructions for what to do with his life insurance money, when the time came, and he’d made it clear that it went to us and not either of his wives.
She had also, it seemed, taken his advice for her own.
She had a small inheritance when her parents passed.
Money she’d set aside, resulting in an account for us—just for Sammie and me.
The amount is staggering.
“Now I really am going to quit,” I say. As if I weren’t going to anyway, even without a parachute.
I don’t know why, in so many movies, when a windfall descends upon a character, they so often tear up the check or otherwise don’t seem to care.
Because as soon as Sammie and I clarify that Matt is a) sure and b) not messing with us and c) absolutely sure, we squeal and hug each other.
It doesn’t take away from the grief of losing our mother to learn that she had done something to make our lives easier once she left us behind.
It just means she left us with the gift of choice.
Of freedom.
When we re-emerge, the funeral is in full-on party swing. Hot-pink programs everywhere, plates stacked high with food, cocktails and beer in plastic cups, the volume on the music raised. I see a couple of women crying, but they’re also laughing.
It feels amazing to look around and see all these friendly faces. The people who make up this unique, bizarre little island.
Except for one.
“Shit,” I say, just as we get back to Austin and Nora.
The other three look in the direction of my deathly glare.
Austin stands, but Sammie puts a hand on his chest. “I got it.”
She walks across the sand and we all watch with bated breath.
Sammie crosses her arms, pulling her shoulder up to her ear and then dropping it as she gets to him. He opens his arms to her, but she steps back, shaking her head.
“Attagirl, Sammie,” says Austin.
We can’t hear what she’s saying, but eventually he nods and starts to walk away. She grabs his arm, and my heart stills.
“No, no,” I say out loud. “Come on, Sammie.”
And then she pulls back her fist and punches him right in the nose.
Austin and Matt take a step in their direction. I am shocked. A little extreme, but you couldn’t ask for a better sign that it’s really over.
Sammie says something more and then points toward the road away from Birdsong.
He clutches his face and we catch the slightest sound of him saying, “Broke my fucking nose!”
He leaves and she comes back to us, looking about a hundred and eighty pounds lighter.
“Whew.” She holds up her bright red fist, her bleeding knuckles. “I think when the adrenaline wears off, this is really gonna hurt.”