She opened the front door and took a step toward Tripp. “What’s so important that you’d leave D.C. and come to Georgia?”
“My father is seriously ill.”
As much as she wanted to feel compassion for the Judge, her heart wouldn’t allow it.
A crescendo of thunder rolled across the sky. Fat drops of rain splattered the sidewalk, forcing Tripp up the steps and onto the porch.
She drew a breath as he stepped closer. She didn’t have the words to respond regarding his father’s illness. How could she?
After a second or two of reflection, she opened the screened door. “Please come in. Breakfast is ready. I hope you’re hungry.”
Tripp followed as she led the way down the hall and to the kitchen at the rear of the house.
“I’m starving, but you didn’t have to go to all this trouble, you know.”
“It’s no problem. With Aunt Tess and JT and me going in different directions during the week, Saturday and Sunday is our family time for a sit-down breakfast.”
“Speaking of JT, does he know? About me, I mean?”
Slowly, in an indifferent tone, she said, “Yes.”
“And?”
I think you should marry him, Mom. Her mind raced over the unexpected declaration her son had made. She closed her eyes. Behind her lids she recalled the uncertainty she’d read in the face that reminded her so much of his father.
She flinched when Tripp touched her shoulder.
“Honey Belle?
She gave him a measured look. “If you were sixteen and this type of bombshell was dropped on you, how would you feel?”
“Point taken. Does he hate me?”
“JT feels betrayed. By me, mostly.”
Honey Belle looked at him, then away as she fought the emotions that threatened to crumple her face. Tucking her hands inside the pockets of her apron, she invited Tripp to sit at the dining table.
****
His chest constricted. He couldn’t breathe. JT stood at the second-story bedroom window gazing down at the man who walked up the sidewalk toward the front porch. Tripp Harlan Hartwell, war hero and senator, was his father.
His father. The words echoed inside his head. They sounded so foreign to JT he couldn’t grasp the meaning. All his life he’d secretly envied his friends whose dads had coached little league or invited him on camping trips. Yeah, sure, there were times he’d longed for a father and had even conjured up images. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he was the illegitimate son of a United States Senator.
JT stood there, his head resting against the window sill, staring out the window, his mind awash with emotions he didn’t know how to handle.
He wondered if the senator would sit him down and feed him a line of sorrowful garbage about being a long-lost father, stepping up to the bat, doing the right thing. Sure, he’d told his mom to marry the guy. Did he really mean it? For sixteen years he’d never had to share his mother with anyone. Punching his fist against the wall, JT didn’t know how he felt.
His mother’s voice filtered up the stairs. “JT, breakfast is ready, and Senator Hartwell is here.”
Slowly, he walked across the room and opened the door. Smiling at his once childish prank, he wondered if the senator was afraid of snakes.
****
Tripp’s heart did a funny little lurch when JT entered the kitchen. He looked at the boy in front of him. Tall, broad of shoulder, hair the color of beach sand, and eyes that were clearly sizing him up, wary.
Offering his hand, he watched a slight hesitation before JT accepted. Good, Tripp thought, a firm handshake. In fact, the boy tightened his grip and matched Tripp’s stare. He’s letting me know I’m treading on his territory. The trait appealed to Tripp.
“Just so you know, Senator, you hurt my mom and I’ll knock your block off.” JT lifted his chin, his blue eyes unwavering.
Honey Belle gasped. “Jack Tripp Garrett, you apologize this instant.”
Tripp wanted to laugh out loud. Instead, he smiled. “No apology necessary. I respect any man who stands up for his mother.”
Honey Belle picked up the coffee pot. “Well, okay then. Let’s eat before the grits get too stiff to soak up the egg yolks.”
Rather than sitting in stony silence, or suffering through meaningless small talk, Tripp filled his plate with grits, two eggs, bacon, and a biscuit. “I haven’t had a good southern breakfast since my mother passed away.”
Silence followed on the heels of polite requests to pass the strawberry preserves or for more coffee, until JT blurted out, “Why are you here, Senator?”
“JT, I swear, where are your manners?”
“It’s a fair question, Honey Belle.” Tripp could feel the boy’s anger coming in waves. “If I were wearing your shoes, JT, I’m not sure how I’d react. This is new territory for both of us. Right now we’re treading water—not knowing which way to swim. It isn’t every day a man learns he has a son, much less a sixteen-year-old son. If you think I’m here to change your life or take your mother away from you—that’s the least thing on my mind.”
“Same question—why are you here?”
“Several reasons, good ones, I hope. Are you willing to listen and give me a fair chance?”
JT nodded.
“First, my father is an old man. A few days ago, he confessed to his duplicity. What he did to your mother was reprehensible. I’ll make no excuses for him.” Tripp drew in a sigh and blew it out. “The thing is, JT, he’d like to meet his only grandchild.”
Tripp watched JT weighing the question before giving an answer. Without glancing at Honey Belle, Tripp felt her tension.
“I’m not sure I want to meet him. I mean, I don’t owe him anything.”
“No, you don’t. My father is dying. Oh, I know you might see this as a pitiful excuse for my asking you to go see an old man who did a grave injustice to your mother…and to me. The thing is, JT, a man’s character is determined by the maturity of his decisions.”
JT loaded his fork with eggs and grits. Then as if he’d lost his appetite, he set the fork aside. “You said there were other reasons for coming here.”
Tripp was impressed by his son’s directness. “Through circumstances beyond my control, I’ve been denied the right to know you. I missed your birth, I’ve missed out on your first words, first steps. I see by the trophies you’re an excellent athlete. I’ve missed your games, missed sitting beside your mother in the bleachers, cheering for you. You’re sixteen. I can’t make up for the lost years, but if you’ll give me the opportunity, I’d like to get to know you. Maybe we can eventually become friends.”
“And my mom, what are your intentions toward her?”
This time Tripp laughed out loud. “JT, my mother—your grandmother—would have spoiled you rotten. You have her directness. In fact, I see much of her in your facial expressions. She was also a master gardener. Do you like gardening?”
Not to be shut out of the conversation, Honey Belle said, “I’ve always wondered where JT inherited his green thumb. Aunt Tess and I are pitiful when it comes to growing flowers and vegetables. Not JT. Even as a little boy, he loved digging in the dirt and making things grow.”
“Mom…that’s embarrassing.”
She smiled, cut her eyes at the man sitting across the table from her son. “He even likes cheeseburgers, extra pickles, hold the onions.”
“Man, Mom, you’re killing me, telling all this personal stuff.”
“No kidding. You like cheeseburgers, extra pickles, hold the onions?” Tripp beamed.
“Yeah, so?”
“Tell him, Honey Belle.”
When she blushed, Tripp had the urge to kiss her petal-pink lips. She was incredibly beautiful, watching him. He felt his loins stir. Shifting in his chair, he reached for his cup, grimacing at the cold coffee’s bitter taste.
“Your father, that is to say, the Senator—” her hands fluttered as if she was confused about what to call him in front of her son.
“Anyhow, I suppose you still order your hamburgers the same as when we first met.”
“Exactly the same.”
An awkward moment passed as if no one at the table knew what to say next. Tripp’s mood took a nose dive. This was tougher than he’d expected. He braced his wrists against the table.
“My last reason for being here is your mother. When I was wounded in Vietnam and half out of my mind with delirium in a field hospital, more dead than alive, I thought I saw your mother smiling down at me.” Tripp hesitated. What could he say to win over his son without sounding maudlin? “Look, JT, in all these years I’ve never stopped loving your mother. I didn’t know why she’d left South Carolina. Then, to be honest, when I found out she’d lied about where she lived, I was hurt, even angry. Things happened. I married, joined the Army, immersed myself in politics. Until a few days ago, I thought your mom was lost to me forever, and I didn’t know I had a son. All this may sound like pathetic excuses to you. Unless I miss my guess, you’re a judicious young man. The truth is, JT, I’d like your permission to date your mom.”
There. He’d laid it on the line—all his reasons for coming to Valdosta. The ball was in his son’s court. As much as he wanted to reach out and clasp Honey Belle’s slender, delicate hands, Tripp refrained from touching her.
His senses on edge, a drip from the kitchen faucet seemed to crescendo in his ears. Tripp worked to quell his impatience as he watched the turmoil in his son’s young face. The very act of wrestling with a grown-up decision was written in the creases of his forehead, the taut muscles in his neck, the stiffness in his shoulders.
Always one to tackle a problem head-on, Tripp worried he’d asked too much too soon.
****
JT scooted the chair from the table. He stood. “The Three Musketeers, you, me and Aunt Tess. That’s what you used to call us. Remember?”
Honey Belle smiled and nodded.
His face sobered as he continued. “I’m not sure I want that to change.” He shrugged his shoulders forward. “Aunt Tess is getting older, I’m going off to college… Kids my age don’t usually worry about stuff like this, but I don’t want you to be alone one day.”
Honey Belle stared at her son, touched by his words. Then her brow drew together in a furrow. “You’re worrying about my old age, is that it, JT?”
Laughing, he shook his head. “Well, you are thirty-five.”
“I’m not exactly in my dotage yet,” she shot back, laughing with him.
JT’s face sobered as he continued. He met Tripp’s gaze, gave him a piercing look. “When I was little, I used to hear my mother crying…sobbing as if her heart was breaking. I would stand outside the door and listen, hurting for her, wondering if I was the reason for her sadness. But I didn’t dare go in, even though I wanted to comfort her.”
“You could have,” Honey Belle’s voice was soft, touched by his words.
“I once asked you why you cried at night, when I was a little bit older. Do you remember?”
“Yes, vaguely.”
“Do you remember what you said?”
Honey Belle shook her head.
“You told me you cried because you’d lost someone you’d loved very much. When I asked you who, you wouldn’t answer me, you just turned away. Then, that time we saw the soldiers’ names on the TV screen, I figured you were crying for my father.”
He looked into her face. His own had a loving expression on it. Slowly, he said, “It hurt my heart to hear you crying. I wanted to help you and I didn’t know how. For as long as I can remember, it’s worried me that you cried that way.”
Honey Belle, wiped the tears only to have more spill from her eyes. “Oh, JT.”
“Senator, I guess it was you she was crying for. Maybe you can make up for…everyone that hurt her.”
Tripp swallowed the lump that threatened to choke him. “We’ll do it together, son.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Tripp felt as if he’d won some, lost some. Who was keeping score? Not him. With a mutual cessation of hostilities and the white flag from all sides, JT had agreed to visit his grandfather.
In the time following that visit, the Judge had begun to lose his bitter edge toward Honey Belle. He’d fooled science and the doctors by living months longer than the original prognosis. Insisting on attending his grandson’s high school graduation, he had proclaimed JT’s valedictorian speech as nothing less than brilliant.
And then after dinner he’d dropped the bombshell.
Honey Belle walked to the porch, where the Judge sat in his wheelchair. “Would you like a glass of tea, Judge?”
“I’ve never been one to bandy with words. My motto is say what you have to say. Girl, do you love my son?” the Judge fixed her with a look.
“Well, I…” Honey Belle had found it difficult to stand her ground with her old nemesis, but she straightened her spine and stood tall. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
His voice had lost some of its timbre. Nonetheless, he bellowed. “Tripp, you and JT get yourselves out here.”
Honey Belle clenched her hands.
Tripp pushed through the screened door. “What’s wrong, Father?”
“Nothing. I’m righting another wrong. This girl says she loves you.”
“My name is Honey Belle, Judge Hartwell. I’ll thank you not to call me ‘girl.’”
Shrugging his shoulder as if ignoring her plaint, he said, “My days are numbered. I want my grandson to carry the Hartwell name. Why haven’t you proposed to this girl…er…Honey Belle?”
JT cut his eyes toward her. “Mom, I don’t want to change my name.”
“Of course you do.” The Judge banged his hand on the arm of the wheelchair. “Tripp Hartwell the Fourth has a nice ring to it.”
“No, sir. Father, if my son agrees, the name on the adoption papers will read Jack Tripp Garrett Hartwell.”
“So be it. Now, do I have to propose to Honey Belle for you?”
Tripp looked at his son. After a year of getting to know each other, their bond, while tenuous, seemed to grow stronger each day. “JT?”
JT smiled and with a nod gave his approval.
Tripp reached out and drew Honey Belle forward. He felt the slight resistance. His mouth slowly lowered over hers, gently stealing her breath away. When he lifted his head, he said, “Honey Belle Garrett, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife and making me the happiest man in the world?”
“On two conditions, Senator Hartwell.”
Tripp cut his eyes toward JT. They both shrugged their shoulders. He warily answered, “Only two?”
“Yes. First, no lengthy engagement. I’ve waited long enough.”
With a twitch of his lips, Tripp raised an eyebrow. “Your wish is my command. And condition number two?”
Honey Belle’s eyes were serious. “No reporters or television cameras, no Washington, D.C. sensationalism, no expensive wedding dress, no towering cake, and a guest list limited to family. And a simple ceremony where my son—our son—walks me down the aisle, with Aunt Tess as matron of honor.”
Tripp’s lips lifted into a small smile. “I have a request of my own.”
Placing her hands on her hips, she cast him a lofty look. “And it is?”
“If you don’t mind traveling to Charleston, I’d like to hold the wedding in my mother’s garden. I think she’d be pleased.”
Sudden tears filled Honey Belle’s eyes. “That’s a perfectly beautiful idea.”
Tripp gave her cheek a lingering caress. He mouthed softly, “I love you.”
The Judge made a small, satisfied grunt. “This is an auspicious day and deserves a beverage stronger than sweet tea.”
Honey Belle offered her future father-in-law a warm smile. “We have a bottle of sangria. Will that do?”
****
Two weeks later, on the second Saturday in June, Honey Belle stared into the mirror and saw a stranger, a woman in a delicate white dress. Today was her wedding day.
&nbs
p; A bride.
She stood in the middle of the room, thinking how welcoming it was, struck by its warmth and charm. It was of medium size, with mauve walls, tastefully decorated. A dark red-and-blue Oriental rug in front of the fireplace. A canopied bed. Between the two tall windows, an antique desk facing out toward the back garden with its arched bridge over a koi pond.
It was a lovely summer day. The sky was cerulean blue, clear and cloudless, filled with sunshine, and the foliage in the garden was spectacular. The massive oak trees were a riotous mass of green.
“We couldn’t have asked for a better day,” Tess said, glancing out the window, looking down at the garden. “It’s perfect for a wedding.”
Joining her aunt at the window, Honey Belle said, “Thank you for being here with me these past two weeks, and for doing so much to help with the wedding.”
“You are more than my niece, you’re the daughter I’ve never had. And, JT, well, what can I say—he stole my heart the day I helped bring him into this world. Lending a hand with the wedding is nothing compared to your happiness and knowing my nephew’s future is secure.” Tess gently dabbed a tear from Honey Belle’s cheek. “Why are you crying? You’ll ruin your make-up.”
“This—” Honey Belle spread her arms wide— “all of this…Tripp, the wedding…this old magnificent house. It’s like a fairy tale come true. I’m afraid I’ll wake up and discover it’s all a dream.”
The painful pinch to the fleshy part of Honey Belle’s arm brought a resounding, “Ouch! Why did you do that?”
Tess leaned into Honey Belle and kissed her on the cheek. “To prove a point. None of this is a dream, because you are obviously wide awake.”
Honey Belle was silent.
Tess looked at her niece. “Spit it out. What else is on your mind?”
Honey Belle glanced out the window again, her face thoughtful when she finally turned toward her aunt. “Not so long ago, JT expressed concern because he didn’t want me to be alone when he went away to college. Oh, Aunt Tess, South Carolina is a long way from Georgia. I wish I didn’t have to live so far from you.”
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