by Rachel Hauck
“Yes, Mary Grace, I believe it.” The rush of gooseflesh down Charlotte’s arm was becoming familiar. “I surely can.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Emily
Father sent Bernadette for the doctor. Poor maid of honor had turned into an errand girl. But her mother had collapsed on the fainting couch as Molly helped Emily out of Mrs. Caruthers’s gown.
“I’m sorry, Father,” Emily whispered as Molly loosened her corset strings. Being able to exhale almost made Mother’s fainting worth it. The phantom weight of the first gown vanished as Molly buttoned up the feathery, silky gown.
“It’s all right.” He knelt beside Mother, patting her hand. “As long as you’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Then I support you.” He cleared his throat. “It’s not going to be easy.”
“Father, will it be too hard on your business?”
“I’ll manage. Emily, forgive me for not telling you before now.”
“I suppose I always knew, Father. But I thought we’d choose to love each other. I knew of Emmeline, but I didn’t know his parents threatened his inheritance if he didn’t marry me.”
“I’m not sure Cam meant to confess that, but his brandy holds him rather than him holding it. He sounded quite pleased with the arrangement, as if I should be too.”
Last night Father joined the “boys” at the club to celebrate, or mourn, Phillip’s last night as a bachelor. He came home earlier than expected, solemn and disturbed, and retired to his room without a word to Emily. But she could hear his coarse whispers with Mother when she passed by their door. “All Cam wants is a good match for his son. They care little that Phillip’s infidelities will be her problem.”
The door burst open and Dr. Gelman rushed to Mother’s side. “What happened?”
“She fainted.” Father, pragmatic but tender, moved out of the doctor’s way. “Must be the excitement.” He winked at Emily.
It was the excitement all right. Father had brought the final truth about Phillip. He’d indeed signed out the warrant for her arrest. Father had overheard Phillip bragging at his bachelor party of how deftly he handled the situation.
Pride puffs up, Father always said. Pride can’t be silent.
Dr. Gelman waved smelling salts under Mother’s nose. She roused, coughing and gasping. Father helped her sit up straight but she fought him, straining to see Emily. When the doctor waved the salts under her nose again, Mother swatted at him.
“I’m revived. Emily, listen to me.” Mother breathed deeply, coughing, gathering herself, struggling to her feet. “They had you arrested.”
“Mother, I know. Father told me.”
“How can you even think of wearing that gown?” She flipped her hand up and down, pointing. “You’ll insult the Saltonstalls. Perhaps beyond repair.”
“Maggie.” Father cradled Mother to his chest. “This is our daughter’s wedding. Let’s not go on. What’s done is done. We’re late starting the ceremony.” Father helped Mother to her feet, thanked the doctor, then paused at the door. “Emily, I’ll return in five minutes.”
When she was alone in the room, Emily tried to keep air in her lungs. When she opened the door and peered down the hall, she could hear the organ music coming from the sanctuary.
And she knew. She was not marrying Phillip Saltonstall today. A giggle burst from her lips. Emily touched her finger to her mouth. Another giggle bubbled up.
She was free. Slipping out of the room, she scurried down the hall on her tiptoes, keeping her heels from clacking against the stone floor. Rounding the corridor to the foyer, she exhaled relief to see the sanctuary doors closed. Then she peered out the window.
He was here, waiting, just like Father said, sitting atop his glorious mustang, Two Tone. Father and his shouting out the window, “A holy night”. Signaling to Daniel that he might have a chance.
But Emily lacked the courage until she slipped on Taffy’s dress. It was as if all her prayers came together at once and awakened her heart.
Mrs. Potter, the reverend’s secretary, came through the sanctuary doors. “Emily dear, there you are. The ceremony is starting. Phillip is at the altar.”
“My dear, Mrs. Potter.” Emily giggled, grasping the woman’s hands. “I’m getting married.”
“Of course you are, dear.” She smiled and patted Emily’s arm. “Let me locate your father.”
“When you do, tell him I thought it through, made my decision, and followed my heart.”
Without waiting, Emily pressed through the foyer doors and stepped into the cool, glorious air of a Birmingham New Year’s Eve. Daniel stood beside Two Tone, resplendent in his tuxedo, his hair coiffed into place, his jaw firm and clean shaven. She loved the way his eyes shone.
Taking the steps down to him, Emily’s dress flowed free and easy about her legs. “Father said he spoke to you.”
“He did.” Daniel bent to one knee, anchoring himself in the sidewalk around the church. “Will you marry me? Please?”
“Oh, Daniel—” Emily glimpsed back at the church’s broad, oak doors. Father stood, watching, nodding.
Emily swallowed. She’d waited for this day. Dreamed of this day. But how could she leave Phillip at the altar? As cruel as he might have been, he was a man with a beating heart beneath his chest. She did not want to stoop to his level of play.
She’d given her word to Phillip. Friends and family, guests and colleagues waited inside for her to marry him. They’d sent gifts. They’d hosted teas and suppers, bridge games.
“Emily?” Daniel’s confidence panicked a bit.
“Wait . . . please . . .” Emily turned, raising her elbow to Father. “Father, please escort me inside.” As they ascended the steps, she glanced over her shoulder at Daniel. He remained, unmoving, beside Two Tone.
“Emily, is this what you want?” Father paused at the sanctuary doors. The organ music played over restless murmurings.
“I can’t run out on Phillip. Not on his wedding day.” She clung to his arm, shaking. Her veil and bouquet were in the bridal parlor but she did not go back for them.
“Then you are marrying him?” Father guided her toward the sanctuary doors.
“I’m not leaving him at the altar.”
As Emily made her way down the aisle with Father, the guests rose to their feet, gasping and whispering.
Beautiful . . . gown . . .
Not Mrs. Caruthers . . .
Taffy Hayes . . . colored . . .
Before her, Phillip stood like a Greek statue, hands clasped, handsome as always in his tuxedo and his winged collar. His light brown hair shone and his smile challenged the brilliance of the flickering candles.
The foyer doors crashed open and the clattering of horse hooves drowned out the organ tones.
Shouts resounded. Screams billowed.
“Sir, you cannot go in there. Sir, I forbid you.”
Emily whirled around to see Mrs. Porter chasing Two Tone down the broad aisle. She laughed. Oh, Daniel.
“Emily.” Daniel sat straight and proud on Two Tone. “Marry me. Marry me.”
The sanctuary erupted with exclaims and shouts and protests. Phillip charged down the aisle, his best man heeling after him, slashing the air with his arm. “Get him out of here. This is my day, Ludlow.”
Tiny rumbles of pandemonium shook the sanctuary. Two Tone reared, pawing the air, Daniel holding on to the reins.
A shrill whistle silenced through the confusion. All eyes fell on Father, who stood on the altar steps. “This is about no one but Emily. It’s her decision. What do you want to do? Marry Ludlow or Saltonstall.”
Oh, the kindness of her father’s heart.
“Phillip.” Emily tenderly gripped his arm. “You did have me arrested. And I know you still have a mistress. That your parents threatened to cut you off if you didn’t marry me. So, dear Phillip, I cannot marry you. And you cannot marry me. You know it in your heart.”
“What’s the meaning of this
?” Mr. Saltonstall interrupted, his chin flapping like a mad rooster. “Phillip, is this how I raised you? To be bested by this—”
“She’s right. She cannot marry me. And I cannot marry her.” Phillip’s gaze lingered across the room toward the pale and willowy Emmeline.
“Oh, Phillip.” Emily raised on her toes and kissed his cheek. “I wish you well.” Then she turned to Daniel, reached for his offered arm, and with a small boost from . . . Mother! Emily lighted on the back of Two Tone.
Daniel gathered the reins and heeled the mustang’s sides. “Yah!”
Two Tone launched down the aisle, hooves pounding, and dashed out the high foyer door, down the sanctuary steps, racing Emily to freedom.
A photographer from the Age-Herald jerked alive from his dozing stance against the street lamp. His big camera flashed with a poof and circled smoke in the cold morning air.
Emily tossed back her head to laugh. “Happy New Year.” She crushed her cheek into Daniel’s firm back. “I knew you’d come. I love you, Daniel Ludlow.”
Two Tone galloped down the street, gentling around a trolley car, strutting as if he knew what kind of cargo he carried as the church bells began to peal. Then, at the corner of 5th Avenue and 19th Street, Emily saw him.
Mr. Oddfellow. The daring old man with the purple ascot. When their eyes met, he bowed, raising his hat, and cheered her on.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Charlotte
Driving back to Mountain Brook from the retirement center, Charlotte made a decision. The trunk, the dress . . . Tim had opened the door to the dark corridor of her life and she couldn’t duck from the light any longer.
The taped piece of paper with Noelia’s name rested on the car’s console. Charlotte felt bold. Ready. But she didn’t want to venture into the unknown alone.
She auto-dialed Hillary. “Hi, it’s me. Want to go for a ride? Do some investigating?”
“Is it about the dress?” Hillary said, strong and clipped, like she was ready to charge!
“Yes, and me. It’s about me.”
“I’ll be ready when you get here.”
Thirty minutes later, Charlotte and Hillary were on 157-N to Florence, a contemplative silence in the car.
“I don’t know why I’m doing this.”
“Because you want to know.”
“I’ve never wanted to know before.” Charlotte squeezed her hands around the steering wheel.
“This is different. The situation came to you. You bought that trunk and your world, my world, changed.”
“Should I give the dress to Cleo? Even if she can’t get a court order?”
“I think you have a greater court on your side than the one Cleo is using to get her way.”
Charlotte glanced over at Hillary. “What court would that be?”
“The court of heaven.”
“Since when did you become a spiritual person?”
“I’m not.” She shifted in her seat. Hid a smile. “Those are Thomas’s words.”
“Thomas?” Charlotte arched her brow, eyeing her friend.
“I’ve been visiting them. They may be old, but their hearts are young, full of life, and what I imagine might be God.” She laughed low. “Every once in a while, Mary Grace fades away from the conversation and stares at the wall. At first, I thought she was just having a senile moment. She’ll laugh, smile, and her eyes’ll go wide. Then all of a sudden, she’ll start singing ‘Amazing Grace’ or ‘How Great Thou Art.’ I’ve been in nursing long enough to know things happen when people get old, close to their time. But, Charlotte, I think she’s seeing things.”
“Gert used to say when the mind of a person starts to go, that’s when their heart is really revealed.”
“Then Mary Grace is all about Jesus. Nothing but Jesus. She’ll mumble too. I thought it was craziness but now . . .” Charlotte hooked a glance at Hillary as the older woman looked at her, hesitating. “I think she’s talking in tongues.”
Charlotte laughed. “You sound like she’s from outer space.”
“Maybe she is.” Hillary laughed. “Or maybe I am.”
Around one, Charlotte pulled into Noelia’s driveway. A Tudor home sat tucked back on a wooded acre.
“Finally.” Charlotte stepped out of her little two-seater. She and Hillary had a terse exchange about which way to go off of County Road 24. Charlotte acquiesced to Hillary and ended up lost, backtracking fifty miles.
“Don’t start. We just got peace between us.” Hillary smacked her car door shut.
“I’m not starting. I just said finally.”
“Yeah, but it was your tone, young lady.” Hillary squared her slacks and fixed her top. “This is a lovely place.” The wind danced with her natural curls.
Charlotte smiled with a side glance at her friend. Her sister of the dress. Yes, this place was lovely.
Leading the way up the front walk, Charlotte slowed as the door opened and Noelia stepped out.
Noelia Ludlow could’ve been Mama’s sister. Lean, with a short, narrow waist and long legs, scouting eyes set above a short nose and high cheeks. Graceful.
“Come on in, girls. Please.” Noelia grasped Charlotte by the arms when she stepped onto the porch. “Well, we meet.”
“Thank you for letting us come on short notice.” Charlotte stepped inside the house and introduced Hillary.
Noelia bustled about, gathering her long, straight hair away from her face with a hair tie. When she sat in her chair, she exhaled. “I am so sorry for what Colby did to you and your mama.”
“Please, I don’t think it was your fault,” Charlotte said. Sitting in the room with Noelia had a surreal, right feel.
“Yeah, baby, it was. It was my fault.” Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes. “It was.”
Everything she’d known about her life was paling in the light of all these new revelations. Two days ago she was just Charlotte Malone. Plain. Simple. Nothing fancy. Alone. Except for Dix and Dr. Hotstuff.
Now Charlotte was part of this network. Hillary, Mary Grace, and Thomas. Noelia.
She had a father with a name and reputation. Her great grandmother broke laws for the sake of her convictions. Her great grandfather, Daniel, was a revered Birmingham banker and philanthropist.
Her family tree was revealing fine, thick branches.
When Noelia halted the conversation to serve iced teas, the pleasantries took over. Weather. Summer vacations. News tidbits.
But when Noelia settled back in her chair, Hillary dove right into the meaning of their visit.
“Noelia, what happened?”
“Oh, so many things can happen in a marriage. Especially ones with cracks like mine and Colby’s. We didn’t have children so we were both more devoted to our careers than each other. When Colby had the chance to teach at FSU, we both agreed he should take it. I’d stay here and continue my work with the Alabama Fine Arts Institute. We’d visit on weekends and holidays. It was only for a year. We’d been married over twenty, so we believed we could endure. But then, all the cracks started spreading.”
“Do you know why he took up with Mama?” Charlotte held her tea without sipping. She felt anchored to the cold glass in her hand.
“Sure. She was young, beautiful, intelligent. Called Colby out on his stuff and didn’t let him run roughshod over her. Colby always did like a good challenge.”
Charlotte smiled. “Sounds like Mama.”
“From what I gather,” Noelia said, “she fell pretty hard for Colby. He was fascinated with her, but coming out with a student affair would’ve ruined his career. Darn near ruined our marriage, but trust me, he cared more about his career than either Phoebe or me.”
“Then why did he risk it all?”
“Midlife crisis? Wanted to feel young again? What would you do if you were a forty-five-year-old man and a beautiful twenty-one-year-old was willing to give herself to you? Colby had many strengths, but at that time, resisting temptation was not one of them.”
“Did you ever meet Mama?”
“No, I didn’t. While Colby and I weren’t happily married, I loved him and didn’t want to meet the woman who nearly stole him from me. Then I learned about you.” Noelia eyed Charlotte while reaching for an envelope. “She sent Colby a registered letter.” She passed the letter to Charlotte by way of Hillary. “She wanted support so she could buy a bigger house in a nicer neighborhood. She wanted Colby to recognize you. Admit you belonged to him.”
Charlotte’s hand trembled, fumbled, to read the letter. All the surreal rightness of this visit began to slip away. The cold sensation of the tea glass raced from her hand to her heart.
“But I didn’t want her, or you, in our lives,” Noelia said. “We’d patched a few of the cracks and were getting along. We had a life planned, trips to take, and frankly, at fifty, I didn’t want half my weekends spent with a little girl consuming my husband’s time. I tore up the picture she sent, but I couldn’t bring myself to throw away the letter.”
“You never showed it to Colby?” Hillary set her tea on the coaster and angled to read over Charlotte’s shoulder.
“No, but, Charlotte, he did know about you. Unfortunately, out of sight, out of mind. We sort of arrived at this unspoken settlement that your mother surely had moved on, found a good man, married, birthed more children. It’s what I wanted to believe. Since Colby never said otherwise, I assumed he did too. I heard Phoebe died about a year after the fact. A friend of Colby’s brought word.”
“So you knew she died? That I had no one? Yet you still kept my father from me.” The woman who drew Charlotte in with her inviting, mama-like appearance left her trembling and angry.
“I’d convinced myself you were better off. That you didn’t need to know Colby. Why interrupt everyone’s life?”
“I was twelve. I had no life. And what little I did have was interrupted by someone crashing into my mother’s car and killing her.”