A Lowcountry Wedding (7 page)

“Surprise!”

Dora stopped in the entryway, mouth agape. Yellow light from the lamps filled the small living room with golden light. Hanging from the ceiling, from corner to corner, were ribbons of crepe paper in blue and white, and under them, her boyfriend
and son stood wearing party hats and blowing paper horns that sounded like duck calls.

Dora brought her hands to her cheeks. “What’s all this?” she exclaimed, dripping in the front hall.

“Congratulations, baby,” Devlin shouted as he came to her side and planted a firm kiss on her cheek.

“You don’t even know if I passed the exam,” she protested.

“I know you will,” he replied confidently as he helped her out of her raincoat. “You studied harder than anyone I’ve ever seen, plus you had me as your tutor. You’re a shoo-in.”

Nate hurried toward her, and looking down, she saw his face flushed with a wide grin of excitement. That in itself was unusual, and she felt a rush of love. She wanted to bend to hug him in her arms, to squeeze his small, slender frame with all the love she had to offer, but she held back. Dora knew that part of his autism meant that her son didn’t like to be hugged or touched and accepted kisses only rarely, when he was in the right mood. She played fair and instead lowered herself to meet his gaze, matching his smile.

“Are you surprised?” Nate asked.

“I am. Very.”

“Was it a good surprise?”

Her heart melted at seeing his blue eyes, the same Muir color as her own, shining. “The best.”

“I have another surprise. I’ll show you!”

“Hold on, fella,” Devlin told the boy. “Give your mama a chance to take off her coat and get dry. We’ve plenty of time for more surprises.”

Nate’s face clouded. He didn’t like to wait. But to his credit he didn’t begin a litany of stubborn whines. He merely frowned
and nodded his head, then stomped off to the table to wait for dinner. “I’m hungry.”

“I am, too, pal,” Devlin said.

Dora was still surprised at Devlin’s effect on her recalcitrant son. Cal had never spent time with Nate. He saw his son’s autism as some kind of failure, hers naturally. Cal never attempted the normal father-son activities or explored other possible ways to connect. In contrast, Devlin accepted Nate for who he was, appreciated Nate’s unique talents, and, more, enjoyed his company. He took Nate fishing and taught him how to clean a fish and steer a boat. How to ride a bike and not cry when he fell off. How to identify snakes and spiders, set up a tent, bodysurf the waves. Thanks to Devlin, her pale, thin child was becoming a golden-skinned, wiry lowcountry boy. Although Nate rarely displayed affection, she knew her son liked Dev, even respected him. Devlin was the male influence—she didn’t dare say the father—that Nate so desperately needed.

“Come sit down, pretty lady,” Devlin said to Dora, walking to the table and pulling out a chair. “I fixed us something special. Your favorite. Shrimp and grits . . . the good grits, too. Not that watery stuff you make. Stone-ground, cooked with cream and bubbling with cheese. Now don’t give me that worried look.” He waved his hand dismissively. He was in the kitchen, visible from the dining room. She watched him hover over the stove, giving his grits a final stir before preparing the plates. Devlin loved to cook, and most of the time he was mindful of her healthy-heart diet. They’d all been frightened last summer after the scare that had put her in the hospital. But he knew she yearned for butter, bacon fat, and any meat that came from a pig.

“Your diet can skip a day,” he said. He went to the gleaming stainless-steel fridge to pull out a bottle of champagne. With the speed of experience he twisted the cork, and they cheered at the sound of the reassuring pop. “Tonight’s special.” Devlin walked over to hand her a flute of the bubbly. “You’re a bona fide real estate agent!” Devlin bent to kiss her lips with a proprietary air.

“Almost,” she reminded him, accepting his kiss. She was touched at his thoughtfulness. It was typical of Dev to prepare an impromptu party. He loved a good time. Thought life was too short not to enjoy the special moments. She got swept up in his enthusiasm and felt her anxiety ease.

“Hey, Mr. Cassell, I guess this means you’re my new boss.”

“Welcome to Cassell Real Estate. Where
your home is your castle
,” he added, raising his glass with mock seriousness as he recited his company’s slogan.

Dora always thought the phrase a bit corny, but it seemed to work. People remembered his name, and his was the most successful real estate company on Sullivan’s Island. To her, though, Devlin would always be the adorable surfer that she’d fallen in love with at sixteen years of age.

She enjoyed the delectable shrimp and grits, forcing herself to ignore the calories. She saw tonight as a well-earned treat, promising herself she’d get back to her diet the following day. Across from her, Nate was wolfing down the grits, which were on his select list of approved foods. Though he wouldn’t allow the shrimp to touch the grits or a drop of the gravy. She drank another glass of champagne, then another, enjoying the buzz after the months of studying and the completion of her course. Once she got her license, her plan was to quit her job at the
clothing store and begin her new career as a real estate agent. She lived in a house she loved, had a man she loved and a son she loved more than anything else in the world. She felt her world shift and suddenly life looked promising.

Nate squirmed in his chair and kept eyeing the hallway to his bedroom.

“What’s putting ants in your pants?” she asked.

“All right, big guy,” Devlin told him. “I reckon it’s time to give your mama your big surprise.”

Nate’s face lit up as he bolted from his chair and ran down the hall.

“What in the world?” Dora turned to Devlin. “Please don’t tell me he’s giving me a video game. That is the only thing that fires up the boy like that.”

“You’ll see,” Devlin replied mischievously, a grin playing around the corners of his mouth.

A moment later Nate returned, walking slowly, cautiously, down the hall carrying something in his arms. When he was closer, she heard a faint, high-pitched mewling. Dora glanced sharply up at Devlin and saw him looking at the boy, grinning. Whatever it was, Dora knew that Devlin was part of it.

Nate stopped before her, his blond head bent, cradling a small ball of fur—white, black, and brown. He held it so tight she didn’t know if the poor thing could breathe. Her heart sank and she didn’t know what to think. They’d never had pets, afraid of how Nate would react to anything climbing on him or, worse, licking him. Not to mention the hair, the litter box. A kitten was the last thing she’d expected to see Nate walk in with tonight—and her face showed it.

“Look!” Nate exclaimed.

“A . . . a kitten!” she stuttered.

“Yes,” Nate replied matter-of-factly. He was looking at the kitten. “It is a calico kitten. It’s a girl. Did you know that all calico cats are girls? I learned that.”

“Where did you get her?” Dora tried to keep her voice cheery.

“We got her at the animal shelter. The ASPCA.” Nate looked at Devlin for confirmation.

“That’s right,” Dev said.

“It’s your present,” Nate told her.

“Mine?”

“Yes. But I will have to take care of her. She needs a lot of care. I will give her food in the morning and at night, too. It’s dry food. They call it kibble. We also got some cans because she is so little. And a litter box. Dev got you the litter box. That’s his present for you, and the kitten is from me. But I will take care of it for you.”

Dora shot a level glance at Devlin. He was still smiling and winked at her. “Wait for it . . . ,” he said sotto voce.

“She got her shots already. And she’s really good. She already peed in the litter box.” Only then did Nate look up, slowly, his eyes shining in appeal. “Do you like her? Do you want to keep her?” His brows knit and he reminded her, “She is
your
present.”

Her
present? Dora almost laughed aloud. She peered at Nate clutching the kitten as if his life depended on it. The mother in her knew that in fact
she
would be the one caring for the kitten. She would be the one to change the litter box, to pick up the hair balls, to despair at the tears in her curtains
and newly upholstered sofa. The kitten was one more responsibility for a single mother. Dora didn’t think she could handle one more.

Dora shot a glance at Devlin laced with accusation that he’d put her into this position of being the one who had to say no. Devlin stared back at her with wide-eyed innocence while a small smile of encouragement lingered on his face.

When she turned back to Nate, she watched as the kitten began crawling up his chest. Its tiny claws dug into his sweatshirt as she made her way up to his neck. Dora tensed, poised to leap, waiting for Nate’s scream of “Get her off!” There would be tears, maybe even a meltdown.

But none of that happened.

The kitten reached Nate’s shoulder and, after mewling a bit, settled there, curled beside his neck. Nate reached up as though it were the most normal thing in the world to have a cat curled by his neck and stroked her gently. In the stunned silence, Dora could hear the kitten’s soft purring. She sat staring, not believing what she was seeing. Her son, a boy that didn’t like to be touched, was allowing this kitten’s claws to dig into his clothes and its fur to rub along his neck. And he was petting her! He seemed to be enjoying the physical contact. Dora’s heart expanded with wonder, and in that moment Dora knew she would keep that sweet calico kitten no matter if it tore up the whole cottage. She turned again to Devlin, tears of disbelief in her eyes.

“There’s your gift,” he said softly.

Dora loved Devlin in that moment more than she ever had before. He really got her son. Knew what he needed and how to handle him. Devlin knew, too, what made her world light up.

Thank you,
she mouthed.

He smiled and nodded in mute acknowledgment.

“Yes, of course you may keep her,” Dora told Nate. “She’s very sweet. I’ve never received a better gift. And I know you’ll take very good care of her. Thank you.”

“Good!” Relieved, Nate slowly extricated the kitten from his neck as it mewled piteously. Nate was not the least off put by the kitten’s complaints. He put the kitten firmly back into his arms, holding tight. “I am going to put her to bed now. Oh, she needs to sleep in my room. So I can take care of her.”

“Does she have a name?” Dora wanted to know.

“Miss Calico.”

“Will you call her Callie for short?”

“What do you mean? Like a nickname?”

“Yes. Something short and easy, for when you call her.”

Nate considered this. “Okay. Callie for short.”

They watched him walk with care from the room and close his bedroom door behind him.

Dora turned to Devlin. “How did you ever manage that? I want the whole story. All the details.”

The candle was burning low and the rain continued to patter on the tin roof, a mild drumming that was a soothing white noise. Devlin poured more of the champagne into their glasses, then put his elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Are you really okay with the kitten?”

“It means a bit more work. But I couldn’t refuse. My lonely, remote, difficult-to-touch son was just cuddling that kitten. He was hugging it!” Dora sipped her wine. “That’s a first. To see him love like that meant the world to me. Of course I’m okay with it.”

“I thought it might. But, hey, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll take the kitten. Seems only fair.”

Dora set her elbows on the table and leaned toward Devlin. “So tell me.”

Devlin swirled the wine in his glass. “Well, you know I’ve been looking for a rescue dog. So I go to the pound from time to time, to see if one speaks to me. Last week I took young Nate with me. He was curious and wanted to go. There we were walking around and looking. Truth be told, I was hoping he’d find some dog he liked and I could get that one. But what happens? I turn around and find him squattin’ down in front of a kennel filled with a litter of kittens staring like a coon dog on the scent. He was smitten, I could tell. I tried to persuade him to come see the dogs, but you know Nate when he’s got his mind made up. He wanted a kitten. Period. And not just any kitten. There was a black one, a gray one, and a gray-and-white-striped one. All furry and bright eyed, one cuter than the other. But he had his eyes set on that there calico.”

“So you asked the attendant to let him hold it.”

“Sure I did. I couldn’t refuse. I was a mite worried, him being so skittish and all about touching. The minute he held the kitten in his arms, he started petting it. And that kitten just sat there and licked his fingers. I knew he had to have it. I saw what you just saw, and I’m not ashamed to tell you I had tears in my eyes.”

Dora reached out across the table and took his hand in hers. She squeezed it tight. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Leaning back, he crossed his boot over his knee and gave a sorry shake of his head. “But I’m still lookin’ for a dog.”

Dora picked up her wineglass and leaned back in her chair. “Maybe I should return the favor and find you a dog.”

“No, ma’am. A man’s got to choose his own dog.”

“Is that some unwritten code in the world of men?”

“It is for a lowcountry man.”

“I see.” She rolled her tongue in her cheek. “Well, just remember that you’re responsible for my gift,” she said, exaggerating the word
gift
. “And you’re also my landlord. So I don’t want to hear one peep from you about litter-box smells or accidents on the carpet.”

He laughed his low, rumbling laugh. “I know, I know.” He paused to swallow a long drink from his wineglass. “That brings up another subject. Hear me out before you jump to conclusions, okay?” He looked at her, demanding an answer.

His tone had changed. She could tell that he was a bit nervous and it wasn’t about the kitten. “Okay, you’ve got my attention.”

“Good. Real good.” He set his glass on the table and left his hand there, his fingers drumming. “You remember how we arranged things for this cottage. I told you I’d have to put the house on the market when things picked up.”