No matter what happens, please remember that you are always my star. And when you look into the sky at night and see another star twinkling extra bright, know that that is me, shining down on you, helping to illuminate your path. Until we meet again . . .
All my love forever,
Grammy
As we sat on the sidewalk after our engagement party, which was supposed to be one of the happiest nights of our life together, Mark took my hand and said, “Tonight made it all seem real. It’s like I realized this was actually happening, that this thing I have dreamed about for so long was coming to fruition.”
My stomach felt very unsettled, but I smiled encouragingly and said, “It is, Mark. It’s finally happening, and it’s going to be amazing.”
He smiled sadly at me, and I knew what he was going to say next. “Em, I love you. I have wanted only you for my entire life. But I’m not going to beg you to stay here for me. I spent my childhood doing it to my mother, and I can’t spend my adulthood doing it to you.”
I exhaled slowly, tears springing to my eyes. “Mark,” I whispered, “please don’t do this.” But I truly didn’t know what to say next.
“It’s OK,” he said. “I know you love me, too. But we want different things.” He scooted closer to me and put his arm around me, pulling me into him. “As much as I want to marry you—and as much as I think you really want to marry me, too—I think we also both know that marriage isn’t going to fix our problems.”
“It might,” I said, more to the wind than to Mark. They were just words. We both knew they weren’t true.
I rested my head on his shoulder for what I knew would be one of the last times, inhaling the scent of him that was as familiar as my own. I put my hand on his leg, feeling the rough fabric of his khaki pants, balling it in my hands like that would make him stay, like it would make all of this different. I could taste my tears now, the lights of the museum across the street blurring in front of me. This part of my life was finally over—but even in that devastating moment, I had to admit that it had really ended when I was still the head cheerleader.
We sat there like that for a long time, neither of us saying a word. I finally leaned back and put my hand on Mark’s cheek. “Look at me,” I said. “It breaks me that you think you’re not good enough for someone to stay. I can’t leave here tonight having you think that, Mark. You are, hands down, one of the very best people I know, and you are worthy of everything wonderful life has to offer. Please, please, don’t ever forget that.”
He kissed me then. There were tears in his eyes as he said, “And Emerson, you deserve to have your dreams. You deserve not to have them taken away from you. I want everything for you, too.”
I kissed him one last time, and it took all I had to stand up and walk away, because, even though it was clearly the right decision, sometimes you want the wrong decision. Quite often, actually. I couldn’t turn or look back because I knew if I saw him sitting on that sidewalk all alone like a forgotten child, I would run back to him and beg him to change his mind. And while I knew I could be happy with him, I also knew I would never be happy feeling constantly torn between two worlds, always feeling guilty for doing the one thing that made me feel most alive. As Grammy had written to me, that would make life feel terribly long.
I still don’t know what made me take it all out on my mother a few minutes later on my front porch, what made me say the worst thing to her that a child could possibly say, when I asked if she had ever even loved my father.
I honestly think, in some twisted way, I had been pushing her all this time, just like I did when I was a kid, seeing how long she would maintain her composure until she absolutely snapped. As I watched her walk to Jack’s house, I felt suddenly so empty. She didn’t know about Mark and me. I hadn’t told her. She was the only one who could make it better. And I had pushed her away—probably because I didn’t want to feel better. I didn’t feel like I deserved to. Not yet.
“Wow,” Sloane said, opening the front door for us to go inside.
“I’m still a little mad at her,” Caroline said, “but that was evil.”
Sloane nodded, and I crossed my arms, looking from one sister to the other.
“Mark and I aren’t getting married,” I said, sobbing, as if that was some sort of excuse for why I had accused our mother of something so vicious.
My sisters exchanged a knowing glace, which annoyed the hell out of me.
I threw my arms up in the air. “Fine,” I said. “Fine. Just say it. You don’t like Mark. You’re glad I’m not marrying him.”
“No, no, no, no,” Sloane said, pulling me in close to her.
Caroline stroked my hair and said soothingly, “We love Mark. We adore him.”
“We only want you to be happy,” Sloane said. “We want you to have everything you want.”
“I know,” I said, wiping my eyes, pulling away from Sloane. “But I do love him.” I sniffed, feeling a little better.
“Baby, sometimes love just ain’t enough,” Caroline said.
I rolled my eyes, my tears beginning to subside. This wasn’t the time to be quoting country songs. Or maybe it was. I probably wasn’t an expert on that.
“LA proved too much for the man,” Caroline said, winking at Sloane.
But I didn’t find it funny, not at all. I sniffed and wiped my eyes and said, “Caroline, what is wrong with you? I’m having a real life crisis, and you’re having karaoke night.”
“He’s leavin’,” Sloane crooned.
“On that midnight train to Georgia,” Caroline chimed in.
“Leavin’ on that midnight train,” they both added together.
They’d had too much wine. That was certain. I was beginning to get warm, fuzzy feelings, remembering all those good moments with my sisters when we were growing up, as Caroline sang, “I’d rather live in his world,” and Sloane chimed in, “Than live without him in mine.”
But I realized something all at once. It hit me so hard that it took my breath away. As my sisters inhaled, I interrupted them, tears streaming down my face. “I’d rather live in my world.”
Sloane took my hand. “Oh, honey. Don’t cry. It’s OK.”
Caroline put her arm around me and pulled me close to her, as I put my head in my hands. “What is wrong with me?” I sobbed. “You should pick true love. I feel like the most selfish person in the world.”
Sloane gently took my hands off my face. “That’s the thing, sweet Emmy. When it’s true love, you make a different choice.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that then. But either way, despite my sadness, I knew Mark and I had done the right thing. I looked out the window, where I could see the light on at Jack’s house. I knew that the one person who could make me feel better, the one I had been so horrible to, was over there. I had always done this, pushed her away when I needed her the most. I had to go over there. I had to apologize. And it made me wish I could get on the midnight train, not to Georgia, but going absolutely anywhere else.
THIRTY-THREE
ansley: the far corners of siberia
After Emerson had told me about her canceled engagement, she said something that shocked me: “I’m so sorry, Mom.”
It was an apology I hadn’t expected, honestly. But it was one I felt I deserved.
Once she stopped crying, once she calmed down, I said, “Honey, I am so sorry about Mark. And I am so sorry about everything these past few months. I think you know that.” I cleared my throat, trying not to cry. “But to think you could even consider that I didn’t love your father is just . . .”
I trailed off, and she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said that, Mom. I was just trying to hurt you.”
I nodded. “You did an excellent job.” Then I smiled sadly. “Is it time for the more-fish-in-the-sea conversation?”
Emerson laughed sadly and took a deep breath. “I’ll find my fish. I just really wanted it to be Mark, you know? I wanted us to want the same things.”
“Oh, honey,” I said. “I wanted it to be Mark, too.”
Even once Emerson stopped crying, I couldn’t sleep. I was so worried about her. She hadn’t been herself at all lately, and between her health and this tumultuous engagement, I couldn’t possibly close my eyes and drift off. I just sat there stroking her long hair, wanting more than anything to wash the dried mascara off her face.
The small-town mother in me wanted my child to move home, marry Mark, have babies, and go to lunch with me. I wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore. She wouldn’t be facing the world alone with Mark there to take care of her, wouldn’t be living her life as a series of triumphs and failures, oftentimes ones that the entire world was there to see. But I knew that was what she loved about her life in LA—the rush, the full-throttle sense of living right on the edge, an ever-exhilarating day-to-day existence. It was a love affair that never ended, one that she loved more fiercely than she loved Mark. And I understood.
In the middle of the night, Jack came and sat beside me on the couch. He held my hand, and I laid my head on his shoulder until we both drifted off. When I woke up the next morning, Emerson was gone.
“Why in God’s holy name do you keep me around?” I asked Jack.
All he said was, “Ans, I don’t get to walk her down the aisle.”
I smiled sadly and squeezed his shoulder. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”
“I thought it would help,” he said. “Maybe give us a bond that I don’t have with Caroline and Sloane, even the score in her mind a little.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. But I think you’ll get there with her anyway. I have to believe that it will all work out.”
He kissed me and said, “Yeah. You’re right. And I’ll settle for walking down the aisle with you.”
“You are too kind, sir. Every woman wants to be settled for.” We both laughed. No man settling for a woman would ever endure all this.
He smirked and shifted to the other end of the sofa, looking at me intently. “Still want to move?”
I sighed and smiled. “Well . . .”
“I can’t imagine my girl leaving Peachtree Bluff.”
I shrugged. “For better or worse, even when it’s hard, it’s home.”
“It’s such a part of your story, of our story, really,” Jack said. “I want to go different places and do different things, build a life with you, but I can’t imagine home plate being anywhere but right here.”
I heard a knock at the back door, followed by it swinging open. I smelled the coffee before I saw Kyle hand the cups to Jack and me right at the downstairs couch where we had spent a sleepless night that had led to a very stiff neck—at least for me.
“I got the feeling you might need these.”
He sat down in a wing chair flanking the sofa.
“Is it true?” he whispered.
I nodded.
He looked down at his feet. I would have thought he would be happy, but he looked distraught. “How is she?”
“She’ll be OK,” I said, smiling encouragingly.
“I don’t want her to be sad ever,” Kyle said. Then he shot me a small smile. “Even though it was pretty clear that her wedding day was my funeral.”
I shook my head. “You can’t tell her now, Kyle,” I blurted out. “She’s very sensitive at the moment.”
“Ansley, I’m not a masochist. And I have some sense of propriety.” He stood up. “I’m just off to take the girls their coffee and juice.”
Jack saluted him. “Godspeed, my man. I wouldn’t go into that house, and if you haven’t heard, two of the three of them are mine.”
Kyle laughed. “People in the far corners of Siberia have heard, Jack.”
I got up. “I’d better go, too.”
Kyle and I walked across the backyard between Jack’s house and mine and opened my back door. Caroline and Sloane were sitting in the kitchen, but Emerson was nowhere to be found. I had a horrifying thought. Emerson had woken up, found Mark, and changed his mind, trading the future we all knew she really wanted for him. I sighed. Well, if she had, I guessed that was OK. And I was glad I hadn’t said anything critical about him.
“Hi, Kyle,” Sloane said at the same time as Caroline said, “Mom, have a seat.”
I sat down at one of the woven barstools, feeling exhausted. She slid something across the island. I picked it up and did a double take.
It was an engraved Crane invitation with our family crest at the top. It read:
Mrs. Caroline Murphy Beaumont, Mrs. Sloane Murphy Andrews, and Miss Emerson Virginia Murphy
Request the Honor of Your Presence at the Marriage of Their Mother
Mrs. Ansley Morgan Murphy
To Mr. John Stanley Richards III
Saturday, September 2, 2017, at half past six o’clock in the evening
At the Sandbar
And at the Reception to Follow on Starlite Island
Black Tie and Bare Feet
In lieu of gifts, donations may be made to the Wounded Warrior Fund
I was wide-eyed, but I didn’t even know what to say. “How did you get an engraved invitation overnight?” I started.
“Even I can’t get an engraved invitation overnight,” Caroline said. “I’ve had these for three months.” She paused. “Along with the ones that say We regret to inform you . . .”
I shuddered. No one wanted to send the wedding cancellation cards, especially this close to the date. But we didn’t have much of a choice.
“But this is Emerson’s wedding day.”
“Right.” She drew out the word like I was slow. “She was never going to marry him. Not in high school, not now. He’s darling, and she loves him, but he isn’t her soul mate. He doesn’t understand her.”
The flash in her eye and the almost imperceptible glance she shared with Kyle made me know that she had someone else in mind when she mentioned Emerson’s soul mate, and I had to consider that I might have known who that someone was.
“Mom, honestly,” Caroline said, “the wedding on the sandbar, the reception on Starlite Island, the bouquets of peonies and hydrangeas, leaving by boat, that dress that would be totally ridiculous for a mother of the bride . . . Don’t you think I have your back by now? I planned this wedding for you.” She paused. “And I knew the date would work, because it wasn’t like any of us could be anywhere else. And all your friends would be planning to come to Emerson’s wedding, so they’d have the date saved, too.”
I was stunned and teary-eyed. I had no idea that my daughter knew me this well, and I certainly didn’t know that she knew Jack and me as a couple this well. “I don’t know. I guess when you were making all those plans, I did think they sounded quite a bit like Jack and me.”
I shook my head and slid the invitation back across the island. “It is a ridiculous mother-of-the-bride dress,” I said. “And I absolutely love that you thought of this, but I can’t do that to Emerson. I would never, ever hurt her like that.”
“You have to,” Emerson said, appearing from the dining room.
“You have got to quit being so sneaky,” I said. “I feel like everywhere I am now, you just pop in.”
“You and Jack take the wedding, Mom. You won’t get any of the money back now, and it really is your perfect wedding. It’s a fairy tale. You deserve it.”
“Em—” I started, protesting.
“Mom,” she said, “you waited sixteen years to move on. You and Jack deserve a really special wedding.”
I looked down at the ring on my right hand. Carter’s ring. Even though I was remarrying, I would wear that ring, as a symbol of my love for my first husband, forever.
Then I looked up to see Kyle looking at Emerson.
“And Mom,” she said, exhaling deeply. “I know you loved Daddy. You told him you loved him on September 11. And you kissed him good-bye. Twice.”
“What?” I asked, my heart racing. It was the thing I had wondered about for sixteen years, one that had haunted me. Had I kissed my husband good-bye? Had I to
ld him I loved him on that last day? Did he wonder as the towers fell?
“I remember,” she went on. “He said he loved you best of all, and you said you loved him more, and you kissed. Twice.” Her eyes filled with tears. “And his last words to me as he left were ‘Break a leg, Em.’ ”
I wanted to hug her then, but it was Kyle who got that privilege. She put her head on his chest, and he wrapped her up in his arms, and I heard him whisper, “You are going to be fine. You’re the Starlite starlet, remember?”
And it occurred to me that there was no reason for Kyle to tell Emerson how he felt. She already knew.
THIRTY-FOUR
emerson: a cookie smile
There is something surreal about rushing around and putting the perfect finishing touches on a wedding that was supposed to be yours.
With five days until the big day, the first question had to do with invitations. They were all stuffed and sealed and stamped already, which irritated me at first. But there was no time to be irritated.
“So how do we get all these out?” I asked.
“Oh, Vivi!” Caroline called.
Vivi paraded through the door wearing a flower crown. Seven other twelve-year-old girls, also in flower crowns, came in behind her.
Caroline cleared her throat and said, “Presenting the Ansley and Jack Wedding Invitation Delivery Team.” Vivi grinned. “It’s so much more personal than the mail.”
I smiled. They looked much more innocent when they were wearing flower crowns than when they were smoking cigarettes. “Do you really think you can pull this off?”
“It’s only twenty-five invitations,” Vivi said, shrugging. “I’d say we can handle it.”
I winked at her. The newfound bit of freedom with the boat Jack had given her had done wonders for Vivi. I liked to think that I had played a role in that, too.
I peeked out through the kitchen window and saw Jack. He caught my eye and motioned for me to come outside.
The Southern Side of Paradise Page 23