Sugar felt a pang for Ruby, her own beloved shadow. How she longed to be sitting on her big bed looking at wedding stories in the New York Times instead of here in this stuffy room with a family to which she no longer belonged.
“We’re thinking of going to the Cordon Bleu school in Paris next spring for lessons, Jeanne and I,” said Etta. “She’s a doll.”
“Sugar is a fantastic cook,” Theo said. “She makes everything herself right from scratch: cakes, cookies, bread—even her own granola.”
“You don’t eat grits for breakfast up there in New York, baby?” Blake asked with genuine tenderness.
“No, Daddy, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost the taste for them.”
“You’ll get a chance to reacquaint yourself with them while you’re here, I’m sure. How long you down for?”
They managed polite if stilted chitchat while they ate their meals, although nothing of any importance was said, and the white elephant of Sugar’s exile remained glowering in the corner. And it was clear to Sugar, from the way Etta was showing far more enthusiasm for the chablis than the food she was pushing around the plate, that this was just the calm before the storm.
“So,” Etta finally said, inspecting the pale pink nails of one smooth, moisturized hand once the plates had been cleared, “perhaps now is the time to let us know to what we owe the pleasure of your visit.”
“I was just keen to see where Sugar came from, to see what turned her into the wonderful woman she is today,” Theo said before Sugar herself could answer.
“Oh really,” Etta said icily. “We call her Cherie-Lynn.”
“Please, Mama,” Sugar started.
“She might be Cherie-Lynn to you, Etta, but she’s Sugar to me,” Theo said pleasantly. “Your daughter has brought me great happiness and I would like to do the same for her but she misses her family. You mean a lot to her despite what went on.”
“What went on is that she humiliated her husband-to-be and us and everyone she knows on a day they still talk about as one of the worst ever in the parish of St. Michael’s.”
“In Charleston, where the Civil War started, and the city was all but razed to the ground? Gee, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Theo said, his tone still pleasant.
“Where is the wine waiter when you need him?” asked Blake.
“I didn’t mean to humiliate you, Mama,” Sugar said. “You must know that. I didn’t set out to hurt you. I just couldn’t marry Grady, was all.”
“And you chose the occasion of your wedding to decide that?”
Sugar thought about that queen, circling Grady at the altar. True, the bees had opened her eyes to the mistake she was about to make, but it was Sugar herself who had done the buzzing off.
You are strong, she heard her Grampa say. You are strong.
“Five more minutes and it would have been too late,” she said. “Grady Parkes was not the right man for me and if I was about to marry him again, I would do the exact same thing.”
“Blake, I told you this was a mistake.” Her mother was furious. “You’re unhinged, Cherie-Lynn. You always were. Ever since you were a bitty little girl. You’re just like your grandma and that crazy old father of mine, your head always up in the peach blossoms, never mind the embarrassment you’re causing. Well, I’m not going to sit here and listen to any more of your nonsense.”
She pushed back her chair and snatched at her pale lemon clutch.
“Calm down, Etta,” urged Sugar’s father.
“I’m hinged, Mama,” Sugar said. “I’m one hundred percent hinged. I’m just trying to do unto others like Grampa always taught me.”
“He didn’t teach you a thing worth knowing,” Etta said. “You made that abundantly clear when you ran out on Grady.”
“So how is Grady these days?” Theo surprised Sugar by asking.
“Come on, Blake, we need to get going,” Etta said. “And not that it’s any of your business but Grady Parkes would have done just fine if Cherie-Lynn hadn’t left him at the altar and ruined him.”
“So he’s still in the family business then?” Theo persisted.
Blake coughed and helped Etta on with her coat.
“Dinner’s on your father,” she said, tying up her belt. “I hope you enjoyed it.”
“It’s just that I read something recently,” Theo continued, “that made me think that perhaps Grady didn’t turn out to be such good husband material anyway. Three wives, three divorces, four DUIs.”
“The poor man could not even show his face in the street after she disgraced him,” Etta said. “He never recovered. Never.”
“I’m sorry I caused him pain, Mama. Don’t think I never felt for him, I did. And for you all. But he already drank. And he was already controlling and mean. I did not turn Grady into that.”
“Good evening, Cherie-Lynn, Mr. Fitzgerald. Enjoy the rest of your stay. I’ll be waiting in the car, Blake.”
“It’s been a real treat to see you again, baby,” her father said, after Etta stormed out. “And to meet you too, Fitzgerald. I’m sorry about your mother, honey, but you know how she is.”
“I guess I do, Daddy. How come she holds such a place in her heart for Grady but not for me?”
“I don’t know, honey. And I wish I could be more helpful but your mother’s set in her ways and I’m the one has to live with her so . . .”
“I know, it’s OK. Really. Just so long as you know that I always felt real bad for what I did. But I never regretted doing it.”
“Of course, baby, and for that I guess I’m grateful. You OK for money and all? I know your granddaddy’s lawyer still sends you a check every month but I don’t know how you live on that and there’s a pile of money still sitting here.”
“I’m good, Daddy. I can look after myself. I’m embarrassed to cash those checks.”
Her father looked sad. “Don’t be,” he said. “Lord knows we haven’t always done the right thing by you, Sugar, so the least you can do is take what’s rightfully yours without any shame.”
He hugged her and held on a little longer this time. “Thank you for coming back,” he said. “I know it hasn’t worked out how you would have wanted but thank you anyway.” He kissed her on the cheek and as he pulled away, whispered: “For what it’s worth, I like the new guy.” Then he squeezed her arm and left.
Before Theo could even begin consoling her, a young waitress shuffled over, bright red in the face but clearly excited. “Is it true that you’re the Buzz-off Bride?” she asked. “I played you in my high school musical!”
43RD
It’s sort of like soft polenta,” Theo said of his breakfast grits the next morning after room service delivered. “Which is a shame because I don’t really get polenta either. Why not just have porridge and be done with it?”
“Because porridge is so sophisticated and delicious, right?” Sugar asked. It was the first time he had seen her smile since they’d left the Yacht Club.
“Yes, Scotland is a country well known the world over for its sophisticated cuisine. You will have noticed all the Scottish restaurants in New York, for example.”
“You mean McDonald’s?” Sugar said. “I thought that was American. You know, it’s a shame Mama froze us out before you got to taste her banana cream pie because for all her faults she could always make a really good pie.”
“And how are you feeling about that today?”
“Five minutes with her and I feel like the same bumbling flautist I was when I was eight years old,” she said.
“You bumbled the flaute?”
“The flute, Theo. And yes I bumbled it like it had never been bumbled before. My flute teacher cried tears of happiness and gave me some precious coin she’d inherited from her uncle the day I gave it up. I’m just not musical.”
“You can’t be good at everything, Sugar. It leads to unpopularity.”
“I think I have enough of that as it is,” she said. “Especially down here.”
Theo smoothed her hai
r behind her ear. “I don’t know what you’re feeling exactly,” he said, “because I ran out of family a long time ago. But Nina and Sam and Frankie, they’ve been it these past few years and they really did the trick. Plus, now I have you. Families can be small and you don’t actually have to be related to them, if that makes you feel better.”
“You make me feel better,” Sugar said. “You always make me feel better,” and she pulled him under the covers.
“Do you think you could ever live back here?” Theo asked a couple of hours later as they wandered hand in hand down the Battery seawall, the tide slapping at the stone beneath them, the wind keeping the humidity at bay, the air rich with salt and silt.
“I do love it,” she said, the sounds of the string quartet playing in the White Point Garden drifting hither and yon with the wind. “And it’s real good to come back and see it and smell it and feel it again because otherwise a bit of me would always be hankering after it but now . . .”
“But now . . . ?”
“But now that I’m here I think it’s not about me being in Charleston, it’s about Charleston being in me, and it is, and it can’t ever be taken out of me, not by anybody.”
“You go, girl!”
“Theo, that just sounds plain wrong the way you say it.”
“Aye, it did, didn’t it?”
“That’s better. And you know what? I’m better. I stood up to her, Theo. To my mama, and I can handle being unpopular for that. So I guess I’m not running away anymore. You might not ‘get’ grits, but I’m going to start having them for breakfast when we get home, and I am not going to run for cover when I hear a southern accent, and we can come back on vacation and go to Sullivan’s Island or—Hey! We have the rest of the day here, don’t we? Let’s take a drive out to my granddaddy’s place at Summerville, see what’s happened to it.”
“For you, Sugar, I’ll go anywhere.”
They took the Ashley River Road scenic route to Summerville, Sugar smiling at the sight of the Spanish moss waving in the summer breeze, remembering the last time she’d driven this road, with the Volvo full of bees and the taste of freedom in her mouth.
“It’s the real deal out here,” Theo said, as they passed the entrance to Magnolia Plantation with its white-painted fence posts and scenic sprawl of stables and outbuildings. “There’s certainly nothing like this in Barlanark.”
“Or anywhere for that matter,” said Sugar. “The richest people in America used to live along this stretch. Grampa used to bring me to Drayton Hall every birthday—it’s like the biggest single house anyone ever built anywhere or some such. It’s up that driveway there, with the big oaks so you can’t see it from the road, but it’s the oldest preserved plantation in the country. We’d pretend we were living in 1742 and have an old-fashioned picnic down by the river. I even wore a little crinoline—can you imagine?”
“I can imagine you wearing one now,” said Theo. “A crinoline is the thing you attach the fishnet stockings to, right?”
“We’re talking about me and my granddaddy, Theo. Keep it seemly! He used to say a person could learn more about American history from a single visit to Drayton Hall than a lifetime at any university. You know it survived the Revolution, the other revolution, an earthquake and Hurricane Hugo? Now that’s southern spunk for you.”
“The more you tell me about your grandfather, the more I like him.”
“He had a heart of gold, just like you always say about your mother. And he would have loved you. I know that, and not just because the bees told me so. Now make a right here, onto Bacons Bridge Road, and then it’s Tom Pike Lane, a couple of miles up on the left. Good gracious, Theo, I have a team of acrobats doing backflips in my stomach again. What on earth is that all about?”
“Do you want to turn back? We don’t have to go. Or do you want to stop and take a moment? We could put on our crinolines and go back to that hall, or we could go into Summerville and grab a soda first, or we could—Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I love you, Theo Fitzgerald. That’s all.”
“I’m relieved to hear it,” he said. “Especially since I risked death by hypothermia meeting your mother.”
They both smiled, but Sugar’s smile did not stay on her face as they turned into Tom Pike Lane, a country road that backed onto a large wood camouflaging the railway line that went through it. Modest houses nestled into leafy lots, most of them hidden from the road in the shade of ancient oaks, dogwoods and magnificent hydrangea hedgerows.
“His place is halfway up, opposite the big magnolia on the street,” Sugar said. “Would they have had to ask me if they sold it?”
“Not if it’s in a family trust, but if you are sole owner they would. Are you?”
“I think so but I’m not entirely sure,” Sugar said. “Oh, shoot, here we are. It’s so overgrown! Oh, he would be so disappointed. It’s my fault. Oh, Theo . . .”
The house was barely visible from the road, with the hedgerow that her grandfather had been so proud of keeping clipped in a military buzz cut standing at more than six feet and sprouting shoots like electrified dreadlocks.
The gate to the overgrown driveway was not locked though, so Sugar pushed it open and motioned for Theo to come with her. And although the brambles and climbing roses on either side snatched at their clothes to begin with, when they pushed through just a yard or so it became clear that the property had not been left as much to rack and ruin as she had thought. In fact, someone was doing a very good job of keeping it spick-and-span. They were just keeping that a secret from passersby. Indeed, the house was freshly painted and what looked like her grandfather’s rocking chair and two more besides were sitting on the porch.
As she got closer, Sugar heard a radio playing country music out back and to her further shock, there were bees everywhere: buzzing around the roses her grandmother had planted to grow up over the carport forty years before, flying between the oaks and dogwoods, circling the hydrangea. As she walked on she saw not one, not two but three of her grandfather’s old beehives nestled behind the carport beneath the peach trees. All that was missing was the old pickup truck, which had died years earlier in California. Otherwise it was as though time had stood still.
Just then a little girl came out from the back of the house and saw her. She had dark hair tied up in a ponytail and was dressed up in a long grayish ball gown that trailed on the ground.
The little girl stopped and stared, her eyes big and brown just like Sugar’s.
Sugar reached out to steady herself against the house, looking behind her for Theo, but he had disappeared around the other side.
Her head was spinning.
What had she walked into?
But then another smaller girl, this one in a fairy dress, came out from behind the house and wasted no time opening her mouth to holler: “Daddy! Come see who’s here!”
Behind the little girls emerged a man in a bee suit. He was tall, just like her grandfather, with square shoulders and the same loping gait. Then he took the hat and veil off. “Sugar?”
“Ben!”
It was her brother.
His hair was a little gray at the temples and his body not quite as lean as she remembered, but his face was still as handsome as ever. The girls—of course, how could she not have seen it?—were his daughters.
They stared at each other like cowboys in a shoot-out for a moment, then Ben dropped the hat to the ground and Sugar flew into his arms.
He held her and squeezed her so tight that with each beat of his heart against her shoulder another year away from him dissolved until they were just an ordinary brother and sister separated by complications and ecstatic to be together again.
“Daddy, are you crying?” the older of the two girls asked.
Sugar pulled back, and Ben wiped his face. “Well, heck, yes, pumpkin, but they’re happy tears. I’m happy to see your aunt Sugar is all.”
“Hello, Aunt Sugar,” the girls called in unison.
&n
bsp; “I’ve told them all about you, sis. This is Charlotte and Rebecca,” he said, and the girls did the cutest of curtsies.
Theo emerged from behind the house then, and Sugar introduced him too.
“Pleased to meet you,” Ben said, and he looked like he meant it, which warmed Sugar’s heart more than just about anything else that had happened since they hit Charleston soil.
“Y’all are keeping bees?” she asked the girls. “I used to come out here and help my granddaddy with his bees when I was your age.”
“We know,” Rebecca said. “Daddy told us all about you and how you live in all different places like Mary Poppins and take the bees with you wherever you go.”
“Bees are responsible for pollinating one-third of the world’s vital food crops,” said Charlotte. “He told us that too.”
“And we like honey,” added Rebecca.
“Where are your bees now, Aunt Sugar?”
“They’re in New York City on the rooftop of my apartment building.”
“I heard something about that,” Ben said, picking up the helmet.
“From Mama? I do write her on her birthday and at Christmas time just to keep her posted but I can never be sure what gets passed on. Did she tell you I was here?”
“She’s not real chatty on the subject,” Ben said, looking uncomfortable. “I hear more from Phillips, the lawyer.”
“Hey, girls,” said Theo, “if it’s OK with your dad, do you want to come to town with me to get an ice cream?”
“Ooh, yes,” said Rebecca.
“Mama says we can’t have ice cream,” Charlotte reminded her.
“We don’t have to tell your mama,” said Ben. “Sure, Theo, that would be great.”
“Thank you, sweetie,” Sugar said, kissing him, feeling so grateful to have him.
The girls each took one of his hands and they walked down the driveway together disappearing into the camouflage overgrowth and leaving Ben and Sugar to look at each other in wonder.
“You’ve hardly aged a bit,” Ben said. “You still look like the—”
The Wedding Bees Page 25