Lowcountry Summer (45 page)

It was just before eight and why I told Trip I’d do this when my wedding was just hours away? Well, darlin’? That was anybody’s guess. Maybe he was feeling nostalgic and sentimental. Or maybe it was one of the few things he could do without Frances Mae hanging on his heels harping about one thing or another, which he must have enjoyed at some level or why would he tolerate it? They got a good offer for their house in Walterboro and closed on the sale two weeks ago. Some nagging thing in me kept worrying that if their marriage blew up again, where would she go? Or maybe it was just that selling that house made her move to Tall Pines that much more permanent, which was enough to rattle every nerve the rest of us had, including Millie’s and Mr. Jenkins’s.

Ah, Frances Mae! Not the ideal in-law, to be sure, but I had to give her credit for a few things. Her children were certainly happier with her back and they were much better behaved. And she appeared to be mellowing. Just last week I was down in the chapel thinking of how I wanted everything to look for the ceremony, where flowers would go and so forth. I was sitting in a pew on the left side and she came in and sat in a pew on the other side.

“Hey, Caroline. How’re you?”

“Good. You?”

“Good. Millie said she thought I’d find you here.”

“Millie was right. What’s going on?”

“Well, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately and I decided that maybe I was wrong about a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Well, you know you said you wanted to give Amelia a party because she was coming of age and I went off on you and said forget it?”

“Yep. I remember.” You ungrateful stupid hillbilly from hell, I thought. Did you ever in your life do anything for anyone else just to be nice?

“Well, here’s the thing. Now I’m thinking something like that might be good for Amelia. She’s all gawky and awkward, you know? And I ain’t ever seen her with a boy. Not even once. Do you think we could find her a boy?”

Was she enlisting my help? Was she asking me to help her make Amelia more graceful? Had some force of nature kidnapped the twelve million devils from my sister-in-law’s soul? I could not have been more surprised at her change of heart.

“Frances Mae? If you want to have that party for her, I’d be thrilled to organize it. Of course we’ll find her a boy, an appropriate boy, just for her. Someone’s who’s smart and nice like she is.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely! And, I’ll take her to New York as I had promised and I’ll buy her the prettiest dress in the whole town! I’ll do it!”

“That’s wonderful! You know I was just so nervous when I got back from California. A deb ball just seemed awful snotty to me.”

Some would argue that that was the point, but I didn’t feel like insulting her just then. Maybe I had mellowed, too.

“It doesn’t have to be, Frances Mae. Ours would just be a dinner dance for friends and family.”

“Well, if it’s a family thing, you know, a tradition? Then I need to try to make myself comfortable with that.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, really.” The poor thing was so insecure.

“There’s just one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Can I come to New York, too? I ain’t never seen a big city, except the Los Angeles airport when I went out there to, you know, get my mind right? I’ve always wanted to take a ride on the Staten Island Ferry so’s I could see the Statue of Liberty.”

Okay, this is where my heart stopped and I got a cold sweat. If I said no, we’d regress back to the way things used to be. If I said yes? Oh, how bad could it be? Maybe she’d get on the ferry and jump. One could always hope.

So, ever the optimist, I said, “Why not? Let me just get married and then we’ll plan the whole thing! It’ll be fun.”

Who was I kidding?

“Hey, Frances Mae? Did I spot you at Belle’s graduation? Is that possible?”

“Yep.” She pulled out her cell phone and showed me the pictures she took. “I had to sneak in with one of them male nurses because my treatment wasn’t over and I had to go back. Look at this one.” It was a snapshot of Frances Mae and Belle. Belle was beaming. Belle had never said a word.

“What? She didn’t tell a soul!”

“Caroline? Don’t ever underestimate my relationships with my girls. We’re tighter than ticks on a yard dog’s ass.”

“Right,” I said, and thought, Well, aren’t you the lyrical one?

So, I was slipping on my olive cotton twill trousers and a sleeveless white cotton turtleneck to go shoot clays with Matthew and Trip, thinking about traipsing around Manhattan with Frances Mae and Amelia while Eric was having lunch with his father at the 21 Club or some old-establishment watering hole. It would be some trip all right.

In a few hours I was going to be Caroline Strickland. I was taking his name because I didn’t want there to be any confusion about my commitment to Matthew. I slipped on my shoes, and at the last second, I grabbed one of Mother’s old Hermès scarves, the one with the olive-and-brown birds all over it and tied it around my neck, just like she used to do. I hurried down the stairs with enough time to spare for a cup of coffee. I was to meet Trip and Matthew in the barn.

“Here come the bride!” Millie sang out as I pushed through the kitchen door.

“Yep, here she is! We got any coffee?”

“Yes, ma’am! I’ll pour you a cup since it’s such a big day and all.”

“Thanks!”

“Now, where’re you headed this morning?”

“Shooting clays with Trip and Matthew.” I took the mug from her and gave it a splash of cream. “I’ll be back by noon.”

“Going out shooting a gun on the day you get married? What kinda fool is that? You’d better be careful, you ’eah me? And be back in this house by noon, no messing around.”

“Oh! Why? Millie! What? Did you see something?” Oh God, all we needed was a disaster!

“What? No chile! Your hairdresser called. She’ll be here at twelve noon sharp! So don’t be dragging your heels! You don’t want to be late for your own wedding!”

I took several big gulps of the coffee and poured the rest down the drain, rinsing out the mug.

“Don’t worry! They can’t start without me! I’ll be back!”

It was hot, but a perfect day to change my life. The Lowcountry-blue sky without a cloud, a breeze laced with pinesap and flowers, the Edisto placid and soothing.

Trip and Matthew waited in the distance, their cars parked outside the barn. I was on the golf cart, the one that would be festooned later on that day with white bunting and satin ribbons with roses tied up in the knots. We had not invited so many people, it was really just us, Miss Sweetie and Miss Nancy, and a few friends from Jacksonboro and Charleston, maybe thirty guests in all. As a gift, Bobby Mack was catering a barbecue dinner for all of us. He and I had remained good friends and Matthew was determined to learn the fine points of roasting a pig from him. Matthew said he didn’t want me to run away and leave him for a pork belly. Ah, Matthew. I hope you won’t give up your day job to do stand-up.

When Matthew asked Eric to be his best man, I asked Amelia to be my maid of honor. This was cause for great excitement for Amelia. I was determined still to take that child under my wing and it appeared that Frances Mae was going to let me, as long as I didn’t turn her into a snob. I had no such intention. I just wanted to spoil her with attention and affection like I wished someone would have done for me. Surely there could be no harm in that as long as I didn’t come between her and her mother.

So we had our morning of sporting clays, built by my parents just before my father’s death. And I was reminded of them at every one of the eighteen courses. I wished for my mother something mad. I wanted her to see the beautiful man I was to marry in just a few hours and to get a sense of how extraordinary he was. They had only known each other in passing but I knew that Matthew had my mother’s eye.

Mr. Jenkins had positioned the trap houses so that, just like in the old days, we would be surprised to discover the direction of the clay bird’s flight. Matthew shot extremely well for a beginner, joking that it was all his years of experience in chasing drug dealers that helped, but it was easy to see he’d be able beat us all very shortly. He asked Trip why he had never made it a hunt club and Trip said, well, he didn’t know why and maybe that was a good idea. It would certainly help toward paying the maintenance. I told them their man talk was boring, the humidity was rising, and I was ready to go home. After all, I had a date with the man of my dreams and I wanted my hair to look good. I kissed Matthew on the cheek and then I gave Trip a smooch, too. Nothing could ruin my good mood.

I had two new dresses for the occasion and still could not decide what to wear. Anna Abbot, my hairdresser and friend for ages, was there with me in the bedroom. My hair was up in Velcro rollers and my makeup was done. I showed her the ivory one and she said it would make me look washed out. Then I held the pastel-pink one next to my face and she said the color made me look like a goddess. Well, I guess that decided that! “Goddess works,” I joked, and put it on.

It was nearly three and time to go. Trip knocked on my bedroom door and I told him to come in. He reminded me that he had given me away when I married Richard but that he intended to do a better job this time. “This one’s gonna stick,” he said, and we laughed, knowing it would. Yes, it would. Matthew would be a spectacular husband and I would be the best wife I knew how to be.

As I left the house, Millie hugged me with all her strength and wished me good luck. Mr. Jenkins took my hands and told me he intended to marry Millie as soon as she would sign the marriage license. She said he shouldn’t go around telling tales and he just winked at me.

Trip, Amelia, and I climbed on the golf cart. Amelia told me she thought I looked beautiful and I told her she did, too. In minutes I was there, standing in the doorway of my family’s chapel on Trip’s arm, wearing pastel pink, feeling the penny Millie had slipped in my shoe, with the handkerchief every bride in our family for the last hundred years or more carried tucked in my flowers, and holding an armful of Mother’s roses that smelled so sweet. Amelia went before me. She had never looked as lovely as she did that day. She walked gracefully to the end of the chapel and turned to face me. Little Chloe was there with Missy, who wore a big satin bow on her collar for the occasion. I spotted Frances Mae, Linnie, and Belle. Susan and Simon Rifkin were there, Jack Taylor and his wife, Mimi, the pound-cake queen, and the Misses Sweetie and Nancy and Bobby Mack. Millie kept blotting her eyes and Mr. Jenkins patted her arm. The congregation was a mosaic of my life and Matthew’s. I couldn’t wait to see how it would grow and spread.

The musicians were playing Vivaldi and all our friends rose from their seats and turned to face me. Matthew and Eric waited, smiling at the other end of the aisle, standing to the left of Reverend Moore. I thought of Miss Lavinia, for as much as I loved Matthew, and I did with all my heart, I missed my mother so desperately. To our great surprise, all the lights in the chapel flickered, there was a clap of thunder, and from nowhere came a brief summer shower that smelled so green and clean, lasting just long enough to cool the air. Water. The symbol of new life, being born again, and it was water that filled the mighty Edisto. Maybe Mother had sent that shower, something to let me know it was good and right to marry Matthew. I’d never know until I met her on the bluffs.

“Mother always had to have the last word,” I said.

“You’re right. Well, they’re all waiting, Caroline. Shall we do this or do you want to make a break for it?” Trip said.

I suppressed a giggle. “No. Let’s marry me off one more time.”

I went into the chapel, smiling, with a full heart and without a worry in the world.

Acknowledgments

T
HE ACE BASIN IN THE
Lowcountry of South Carolina is first and foremost a magical place. Life seems to roll along in an unhurried way, belying the incredible surprises her powerful spirit will show if you only learn how to look for the signs. I want to thank the following people whose amazing inspiration, patience, and generosity of spirit to share their interpretation of the signs left me filled with wonder and enriched this story in innumerable ways. First and foremost, my sister and brother-in-law, Lynn and Scott Bagnal of Edisto Beach, South Carolina. This book would be a snore without y’all. I love y’all with all I’ve got. Special hugs to Roger Pinckney of Daufuskie Island, South Carolina, whose wonderful book,
Blue Roots,
sparked my own memories of haints and hags, spells and cunja, and clarified many details I had almost forgotten. Anyone who considers themselves or aspires to be Geechee in their soul should rush right out, buy that book, and savor it. To Michael Hickman of Jacksonboro, South Carolina, many, many thanks. I am still remembering with gratitude that steaming hot afternoon you drove me down Parker’s Ferry Road to the old plantation that would become the inspiration for the location of Tall Pines. Well, Michael? Tall Pines lives on! Special thanks once again to Frank and Nina Burke of Ravenwood plantation for the crash course on sporting clays and all their wonderful stories about authentic plantation living in the twenty-first century. The devil is always in the details and much of what you shared with me is littered through these pages, performing tiny exorcisms. I hope!