by Lisa Wingate
“Bitsy’s here?” Missy asks.
“This can’t be good.” I shouldn’t say it, especially of my future mother-in-law, but the last thing I need today is more wedding-planning harassment from Bitsy. She means well, but she’s been after me every chance she gets.
The weight lifts when someone else steps from the car—someone tall, dark, and decidedly handsome.
“Well, look who’s here to see his ladylove. I didn’t know your fella was in town.” Missy grins at me, then waves toward the barn. “Hi, Elliot!”
I’m dumbstruck. “He didn’t…He never told me he was going to be in Aiken. When we talked yesterday, he was in D.C. for a meeting and he had to fly out to California today.”
“I guess he changed his mind. How romantic is that?” Allison pushes me toward the gate. “You’d better go give that man a hug.”
“And a kiss,” Missy chimes in. “And whatever else comes to mind.”
“Y’all stop.” Maybe it’s all the childhood years Elliot and I spent deflecting my sisters’ taunts about us being boyfriend and girlfriend when we weren’t, but my neck and cheeks heat up as Elliot waves and starts toward the paddock gate. He looks good in his smooth-fitting gray suit. He’s definitely dressed for business. Why is he here?
Suddenly, I can’t wait to find out. I kick off my shoes and run across the grass and throw myself into his arms. He lifts me off my feet, then sets me down and gives me a quick kiss. Everything about it is wonderful. It feels familiar, and sweet, and safe, and I realize that’s exactly what I need right now.
“What are you doing in Aiken?” I’m still shocked by his sudden appearance—thrilled, but shocked.
His deep brown eyes glitter. He’s pleased with himself for having pulled off a surprise. “I changed my flight so I could lay over here for a few hours before I fly out to L.A.”
“You’re flying on to L.A. yet today?” I hate to sound disappointed, but I’d already started making plans in my head.
“This evening,” he answers. “Sorry I couldn’t fit in a longer visit. But hey, it’s better than nothing, right?”
I hear a car coming up the drive, and I pull him toward the barn. That could be Dad and Honeybee returning from the luncheon. If they see us, we’ll never get any alone time. “Let’s go for a walk. I want to have you all to myself.” Hopefully, the folks won’t notice the extra car parked next to Allison’s SUV.
Elliot frowns at my bare feet. “Don’t you need your shoes?”
“I’ll grab some muck boots from the tack room. If I go up to the house, everyone will know you’re here, and Mama will want you to stay and chat.” The words have barely cleared my lips when a dose of reality hits. “Does your mother know you’re in town?” Bitsy will kill us both if Elliot comes and goes and doesn’t spend time with her.
“Relax. I’ve already been by to see her. We had a late breakfast together.”
That explains why Bitsy wasn’t at the brunch earlier. “Your mother knew you were coming, but you didn’t tell me?” I hate to be jealous, but I am. Elliot shows up in town, and the first person he spends time with is Bitsy?
He pulls me to his side and kisses me in a way that lets me know who he really likes best. “I wanted to surprise you.” We amble along the stable aisle together. “And besides, I wanted to get Mother out of the way. You know how that can be.”
“I see your point.” As always, he’s handled the situation with Bitsy in the best possible way. And he’s spared us from having to visit her together, which would have turned into an intense wedding discussion. “Did she harass you about nailing down our plans?”
“Some,” he admits. “I told her you and I would talk about it.”
I refrain from pointing out that We’ll talk about it means Yes, we’ll do whatever you want in Bitsy’s vernacular. Really, the last thing either one of us wants to focus on is his mother.
He opens the tack room door for me and hangs his jacket on a hook. “How’s your dad doing now?”
I give him the latest rundown on Daddy’s health while I find a pair of muck boots about the right size, slip them over my feet, and tuck my slacks inside.
“Nice,” he teases, studying my outfit when I’m done. Elliot isn’t a muck-boots-with-slacks kind of guy.
“I could go up to the house and find something better while Honeybee talks to you about spring weddings….”
He chuckles, rubbing his eyes, and I can tell he’s tired. That makes it even sweeter that he detoured to come here. “Tempting but…no. Let’s walk awhile, and then maybe we can sneak out for a little drive.”
“Sounds perfect. I’ll text Allison and Missy and ask them not to tell the folks you’re here.” I send a quick message while we start toward the riding trails. As always, Elliot and I fall into easy conversation. His hand slips over mine, and we talk about business, family issues, his trip to Milan, politics. We catch up on everything we haven’t had time to discuss on the phone. It feels good, like coming home after a long journey.
The rhythms of conversation and movement are ones we’ve learned over time. We both know where we’re headed—down to a little spring-fed lake, where we’ll sit in the pine-shrouded gazebo that’s been there as long as I can remember. We’ve almost reached it when I find myself spilling the story of May Crandall, the Tennessee Children’s Home Society, and Grandma Judy’s strange warning to me about Arcadia.
Elliot stops at the base of the gazebo stairs. He leans against a post, crosses his arms over his chest, looks at me like I’ve just sprouted horns. “Avery, where is all this coming from?”
“All…what?”
“All this…I don’t know…digging into things that are ancient history? Things that have nothing to do with you? Don’t you have enough on your plate with your dad, and the hubbub over the nursing home cases, and Leslie always trying to whip you into shape?”
I’m not sure whether to be offended or to take Elliot’s protest as the voice of reason speaking. “That’s just the point. What if it did have something to do with us? What if Grandma Judy was so interested in the Tennessee Children’s Home Society because our family had some connection to it? What if they were involved in the legislation that legalized all of those adoptions and sealed the records?”
“If they did, why would you want to know about it? What does it matter, decades after the fact?” He frowns, his brows drawing together in a dark knot.
“Because…well…because it mattered to Grandma Judy, for one thing.”
“That’s exactly why you need to be careful of it.”
I’m dumbfounded for a minute. Heat rises under the silky sleeveless blouse I wore to church. Suddenly, my fiancé sounds way too much like his mother. Even the intonation of the sentence reminds me of Bitsy. Over the years, she and my grandmother have found themselves on opposite sides of various issues around town, often with Honeybee as a wishbone in the middle. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Maybe Elliot is just tired, and or maybe Bitsy got under his skin about something at breakfast, but I’m shocked when he flips a hand into the air. It falls and hits his leg with a dull slap. “Avery, you know that Judy Stafford has always been too outspoken for her own good. It isn’t any big secret. Don’t act like no one’s ever said it before.” He looks me in the eye with an annoyingly calm countenance. “She came close to ruining your grandfather’s career a few times…and your father’s.”
I’m instantly offended. “She believed in speaking up when something was wrong.”
“Your grandmother relished controversy.”
“She did not.” A pulse pounds in my neck, but underlying it, there’s a teary sensation. I feel slightly betrayed by his hidden opinion of my family, but mostly I’m thinking, Elliot’s finally here, and we’re arguing?
He reaches out, rubs a palm gently down my arm, and takes my hand. “Hey…Aves.” His voice is conciliatory, soothing. “I don’t want to fight. I’m just giving you my honest opinion. And that’s because I love you and
want what’s best for you.”
His gaze meets mine, and it’s as if I can see all the way through to his heart. He’s completely earnest. He does love me. And he is entitled to his opinion. It just bothers me that it’s so different from mine. “I don’t want to fight either.”
The argument ends where all of our arguments do—on the altar of compromise.
He brings my hand to his lips and kisses it. “I love you.”
I look into his eyes and see all the years, and miles, and experiences we’ve shared. I see the boy who was my friend, who’s now a man. “I know. I love you too.”
“I guess we should talk about the wedding.” One eye winces shut, and I get the sense that the drill at breakfast was not an easy one. He pulls out his cellphone and checks the time. “I promised Mother we would.”
We migrate to our same old spots in the gazebo and sit awhile, but it’s too hot to stay there very long, certainly not long enough to settle on any details. Finally, we go to our favorite little restaurant downtown to do what we did in childhood, in our teenage years, during college—hash out what we want and try to separate it from what everyone else wants for us.
We really haven’t come to any conclusions by the time Elliot needs to drive back to the airport, but we’re caught up on life, and we’re simpatico with each other, and that’s what matters most.
Honeybee meets me at the door when I return to the house. She strains toward the driveway. Somehow, she’s found out about Elliot’s visit, and she’s disappointed that he didn’t come inside with me.
“He’s busy, Mama,” I say, making an excuse for him. “He had a flight to catch.”
“I would’ve had one of the guest rooms made up for him. He’s always welcome.”
“He knows that, Mama.”
She pauses, tapping a finger while she holds the door open and wistfully watches the driveway. She has probably air-conditioned half the estate before she finally pushes the door shut and gives up on Elliot. “Bitsy called. She said she’d discussed your wedding plans—or your lack of them—with Elliot this morning and he promised that the two of you would talk things over. I just assumed, once you were finished having some time alone, you’d come to the house together.”
“We did chat through some possibilities. We just haven’t come to any decisions yet.”
She chews her lip, her brows knotting. “I don’t want everything that’s going on to be a…distraction for you two. I don’t want you to feel that you have to put off your future.”
“Mama, we don’t feel that way.”
“Are you sure?” The disappointment and desperation on her face hurt. An upcoming wedding would be happy news, something to create forward focus. It would also mean the type of public announcement that could subtly indicate the Stafford camp is confident enough to do business as usual.
Maybe Elliot and I are just being self-serving by holding everyone in suspense. Would it kill us to plan a time and a venue, maybe even the azalea garden in spring? That would make everyone in the family so incredibly happy. And if you’re sure you’re marrying the right person, what does it matter where or when it happens?
“We’ll decide something soon. I promise.” But in the darkest corner of my mind, there are those words, Avery, you know that Judy Stafford has always been too outspoken for her own good. It isn’t any big secret. What Elliot doesn’t realize—or maybe doesn’t want to face—is that my grandmother and I are so very much alike.
“Good.” The worry wrinkles soften around Honeybee’s eyes. “But I’m not pushing you.”
“I know.”
She lays cool hands on either side of my face, looks at me adoringly. “I love you, Peapod.”
The childhood nickname makes me blush. “I love you too, Mama.”
“Elliot is a lucky man. I’m sure he realizes that every time you two are together.” She tears up a little, which makes me tear up too. It feels good to see her so…happy. “Go on. You’d better go change or we’ll be late to the choral fundraiser tonight. The concert portion starts at seven with a children’s choir from Africa. I hear they’re fabulous.”
“Yes, Mama.” I promise myself that I’ll talk to Elliot about the wedding again as soon as he’s back home from L.A. The fact that tomorrow is my day to go visit Grandma Judy at Magnolia Manor only reinforces my determination. I want my grandmother to share the wedding celebration with us. Since childhood, I’ve imagined the day with her in it. There’s no telling how much more time we have.
I mull over various ideas while the evening passes. I try to form mental pictures of a garden wedding. Elliot and me, several hundred friends and acquaintances, a perfect spring day. It could be truly lovely, a modern version of an old tradition. Grandma Judy and my grandfather were married in the gardens at Drayden Hill.
Elliot will agree, no matter how much he instinctively resists the idea of his mother or mine running our lives. If a garden wedding is really what I want, he’ll want it too.
In the morning, I drive to Magnolia Manor with a new agenda in mind. I’ll ask Grandma Judy for details about her special day. Maybe there are some favorite moments we can re-create.
As if she senses that I’ve come with important business this time, she greets me with a bright smile and a look of recognition.
“Oh, there you are! Sit right here next to me. I have something to tell you.” She tries to pull the other wing chair close but can’t. I drag it forward a bit, then perch on the edge, so our knees are touching.
Grabbing my hand, she looks at me so intensely I’m pinned to the spot. “I want you to destroy the contents of my office closet. The one at the Lagniappe house.” Her gaze strains into mine. “I don’t suppose I’m ever getting out of here to take care of it myself. I wouldn’t want people reading my daybooks after I’m gone.”
I steel myself against the inevitable sting of grief. “Don’t say that, Grandma Judy. I saw you in exercise class the other day. The instructor said you were doing great.” I play dumb about the daybooks. I can’t stand the idea. It’ll be like saying goodbye to the busy crusader she once was.
“There are names and phone numbers there. I can’t have them falling into the wrong hands. Start a fire in the backyard and burn them.”
Now I wonder if she has slipped away again, yet she seems lucid. Start a fire in the backyard…on a city street filled with meticulously preserved old homes? The neighbors would call the police in 2.5 seconds.
I can picture how that would look in the papers.
“They’ll only think you’re burning leaves.” She smiles and gives me a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t worry, Beth.”
It’s suddenly very clear that we’re not in the same place. I have no idea who Beth is. I’m almost relieved that Grandma Judy doesn’t know who she’s talking to. It gives me an excuse not to abide by her closet-clearing request.
“I’ll look into it, Grandma,” I say.
“Wonderful. You’ve always been so good to me.”
“That’s because I love you.”
“I know. Don’t open the boxes. Just burn them.”
“The boxes?”
“The ones with my old society columns. It won’t do for me to be remembered as Miss Chief, you know.” She covers her mouth and pretends to be embarrassed about her days as a gossip columnist, but really she’s not. That’s evident in her face.
“You never told me you wrote a society column.” I wag a finger, scolding.
She pretends to be innocent of keeping secrets. “Oh? Well, it was a long time ago.”
“You didn’t say anything in those columns that wasn’t true, did you?” I tease.
“Why, of course not. But people don’t always take well to the truth, do they?”
Just as quickly as we got on the track of Miss Chief, we’re off it again. She talks about people who have been dead for years, but in her mind, she’s just lunched with them yesterday.
I ask her about her wedding. In answer, she offers up a mishmash of memo
ries from her wedding and others she has attended over the years, including those of my sisters. Grandma Judy loves weddings.
She won’t even remember mine.
The conversation leaves me sad and hollow. There are always just enough sparks of lucidity to get my hopes up, but the waves of dementia quickly sweep them out to sea.
We’re floating far from shore by the time I kiss her and tell her goodbye and that my father will be by today, hopefully.
“Oh, and who is your father?” she asks.
“Your son Wells.”
“I think you must be mistaken. I don’t have a son.”
As I walk out of the building, I desperately want to talk to someone and unload all of this. I pull up my favorites list, then stop with my finger over Elliot’s number. After what he said about Grandma Judy yesterday, it seems almost disloyal to tell him how much she’s slipping.
I don’t realize until my phone rings and I see the name on the screen that there is someone I can talk to. I think of the expression on his face when he spoke of those difficult last promises to his grandfather, the promises that kept May Crandall’s secrets and my grandmother’s, and instinctively I know he’ll understand.
Something in me rushes headlong across the distance, even though we haven’t spoken since that day at the nursing home several weeks ago. I told myself I wouldn’t get in touch with him again, that it was better to leave things be and move on.
As soon as I answer, he seems unsure of why he’s called. I wonder if he’s been thinking the same thing I have—there’s no place for a friendship between the two of us. Our parking lot encounter with Leslie proved that point. “I just…” he says finally. “I’ve seen some of the press about the nursing home exposé. You’ve been on my mind.”
A warm, pleasant sensation rushes through me. I’m completely unprepared for it. I will it not to show in my voice. “Ohhhh, don’t remind me. If this keeps up much longer, I’m liable to go all Ninja Turtle on someone.”
“No you aren’t.”
“You’re right, I guess. But I’d like to. It’s so incredibly…frustrating. I understand that my father is in public office, but we’re still human, you know? You’d think some topics would be off the table…like cancer for one. And watching your grandmother struggle to remember anything about who she is, for another. It feels like people will poke a spear in anyplace they can draw blood these days. It wasn’t that way when I was growing up. Even in politics, people had some…” I search for the word, and the best thing I can come up with is “decency.”