Destiny Lingers

by Rolonda Watts

  There is so much of this island that I have yet to see. So much that has changed, while so much remains exactly the same. It is ironic that I left here to grow up and now, here I am again, to grow up in yet another way. So much of my past and now so much of my future is right here—right now.

  This might have been God’s plan all along.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  No matter how much I feel about Chase, the fact still remains that Missy is the lady in his life. While he is for some reason still unsure about marrying her, she is clearly pushing extremely hard for at least an engagement. I am very sensitive to the damage another woman does when she falls in love with another woman’s man. I don’t want to be that girl who destroys people. But I know Missy is not the right woman for Chase. He knows it too. We want to be together. But we also want to do what’s right. I tell him Missy may get messy either way.

  Maybe just the act of my going to Missy’s sister’s prewedding party will serve as a good conduit to help me deal with the harsh reality that the man I love is, once again, forbidden. But Chase is also my friend, so I will put on a proper outfit and a happy face and will force myself to accept Missy’s party invitation and with gratitude—if for no other reason than to see what this Missy is all about. No matter what, I will remain Chase’s friend, so I will attend out of respect to our friendship.

  I decide to go into town to find a nice gift for the bride-to-be. I have no idea what Missy’s sister would want, much less need. I travel to the other side of the island to the small shopping strip. I see a nice beach home-furnishing store and decide to go in. The place is full of gift items, most of which are made of seashells or carry a beach theme. There are wind chimes and candleholders, tablecloths, and lamps with decorative shades, salad bowls, vases, and beautiful crystal and porcelain figurines. Any girl would love anything from this shop.

  “Hi there,” the chipper voice of a preppy brunette greets me. “Can I help you find anything?”

  “Oh, I’m just looking right now,” I reply with a smile.

  “Well, all right, but you let me know if I can help you, okay?”

  “I sure will. Thank you,” I say, deeply appreciating the woman’s southern charm.

  My hungry eyes gobble up just about every beautiful and shiny piece in the store. I remember my own wedding and all the wonderful gifts we received and how much each one meant, so I want to be extra thoughtful, even in the face of doubt. I am trying to decide between a silver-plated photo album, an ornate gold letter opener, or a set of pewter salad forks with seashelled handles, when two chatty white women whisk through the door, deeply lost inside their own world and conversation.

  “Lord, I told that girl her father would kill her if she backed out of this thing now. And he’s such a nice fellow too. I don’t know why she’s so smitten over that other one.”

  “I don’t know why either, Clara.” The woman’s friend shakes her head. “But you know how impressionable your daughter can be. Looks like the bride wants to trade in a badge for a bank account, if you ask me.”

  I really don’t want to eavesdrop on their conversation, but they’re both so loud and shrill that I can’t help but hear them. And the more they blab, the more interesting the story gets.

  “I keep telling her that cadet is about to go into service overseas. She needs a man who’s right here and in a good position. And Jesse Mae”—the woman suddenly stops in her tracks and turns to face her friend with a worried scowl over her plump, red face—”you know I would just die if my baby girl left this country and had to live around a bunch of foreigners. That’s my baby, and I would just die, I tell you.”

  “Aw, Clara, it’s all gonna work out, honey. Don’t worry yourself to death.”

  “Jesse Mae, now you know how Dean wants this police department connection more than he gives a crab’s ass about his own daughter’s happiness. ‘It’s good for the family business,’ he keeps telling her.”

  “Ugh,” Jesse Mae shudders. “That Dean …”

  “Dean’s got it in his head that having a cop in the family is going to save his ass on a lot of his construction sites, whatever that means.”

  What does that mean? What cop are they talking about? Chase mentioned that Missy’s father is a contractor—Missy McKay. McKay Construction—oh, no.

  “So now, Jess, you have to promise me that you will help me convince her to try to marry the chief, not the cadet.”

  No way!

  “I’ll do my best, Clara,” the other woman promises with a deep sigh. “Well, one thing’s for sure: Missy loves men in uniform.”

  This cannot be happening.

  “Aw, Jesse Mae. It would just kill that poor man.” Clara shakes her head again.

  “Yes, it would.” Her friend shakes hers. “Chase is a very nice fellow.”

  “No, I mean my husband, Dean!”

  “Uh!” The woman rolls her eyes in disgust. “Yes, of course, Dean.”

  They cannot be talking about Missy and Chase. My ears must be deceiving me. What am I hearing here? The man I love is being set up to marry a woman who’s more interested in helping her father’s business than being in love with him? I am stuck, stunned, and frozen right here behind a rack of lacy place mats as I listen to this woman, who is apparently Mrs. Clara McKay.

  “Well, it is Missy’s decision,” Clara says, as if she is still trying to convince herself that Missy will make the right one.

  “Hmpf!” scoffs Jesse Mae. “Sounds to me like it’s Dean’s decision.”

  “Well, let’s just get that cake cutter and get on out of here.” Clara glances down at her watch. “Man alive, it’s getting late. Sissy’s engagement party starts at four, and I need to get there early to make sure those darkies at the country club got everything right—for once. I tell you, they make me so mad I could—”

  But before the woman can say another word about “darkies at the country club,” I step out from behind the rack, my dark self slap-dab in the woman’s view. She takes one look at me and almost chokes.

  “Excuse me,” I say with a sly smile. I brush past her wide body and make my way up to the counter, where a very red-faced saleslady awaits. She takes my choice of the pewter salad forks with the seashell handles and fusses with the price tag.

  She tries to remain chipper. “Did you find everything okay?”

  The two old hens, quiet now, shuffle their way to the back of the store.

  “Yes, I did, thank you,” I say. “I found even more than I was looking for.”

  “Would you like these nice forks wrapped?”

  I take a second and think. While my natural instinct is to throw these gift forks across the room, refusing to even attend the racist witch’s daughter’s party, I decide to attend it anyway. Suddenly, forks seem to be an appropriate gift. Plus, my journalistic curiosity is getting the best of me. I want to do a little background research on this devious McKay family and their plans to marry off their daughters, seemingly for more position, power, and protection in the construction industry. Why would they need a police chief in the family? Sounds as if there may be more a lot more to Daddy McKay’s story than just building. As Mother would say, “Best way to know thy enemies? Go to their parties.”

  “Yes,” I reply. “Please wrap them. That would be nice.”

  “By the way …” The saleslady leans in, cautiously checking the back of the store. “I apologize for that lady. She’s said a lot of crazy things lately. Her daughter’s getting married, and sometimes all that pressure can bring out the worst in people. Please don’t hold it against our store. Please come back and see us again.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “I will. Next time I may choose the knives.”

  The woman giggles.

  My heart goes out to Chase. Now I understand why he looks so sad and confused when he speaks of Missy. He knows in his heart and soul that it wo
uld be a disaster to go any further with her. He deserves another chance at love too.

  The nice saleslady hands me the exquisitely wrapped salad forks that I would, quite frankly, rather stick into Missy’s mom right now. How dare Missy be in love with another man, while selfishly using the man I love and keeping him away from me? Why?

  And who is this other man, the “bank account cadet”? The one who wants to sweep Missy out of the country? I don’t know whether to shame the suitor or kiss him on the mouth for his timely intrusion. Chase said something was missing. It’s called love.

  On the way home, the radio DJ is rocking beach music, until he suddenly interrupts the program with a special weather bulletin, warning of a huge hurricane, packing super-high winds and possibly heading our way as it barrels out of the Caribbean. Looking out the car window with the brilliant sun shining in my eyes and the warm summer breeze in my hair, it’s hard to believe that a storm could possibly be coming our way. It’s too beautiful a day. In fact, it’s a perfect day for a party.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Big girls don’t cry, big girls … don’t cry-yi-yi-yi, they don’t cry.” Frankie Valli croons on the radio as I shower and change for the big prewedding party. It will be interesting to be there, not only to check out Missy, her sister, Sissy, and the rest of the McKay clan, but also because it wasn’t that long ago when blacks and Jews weren’t allowed in the Onslow County Country Club. So yes, this is going to be very interesting indeed, and I will be right there, representing change and Chase, as I check out the happy crowd.

  I decide on a simple light-blue linen dress, a sweater, and flat sandals, since most parties at the country club are traditionally held on its rolling, perfectly manicured, azalea-lined grounds. I turn off the radio just as the disc jockey jokes that big girls may cry when a harsh rain blows in later today. He can’t be serious. There’s not a cloud in the sky. It’s a glorious day.

  I grab Sissy’s gift and head off to her party, which turns out to be quite festive. Giddy girls donned in pastel sundresses and wide-brimmed sun hats are scattered throughout the luscious green grounds, chatting and laughing and oo-ing and ah-ing each other’s latest summer fashions and latest news. Other than the help, I am the only black person in the club. Something tells me that most of this crowd would probably like to keep it that way. I don’t know any of these ladies and while I may get an occasional smile, I still feel like an outsider. I receive a cool reception as I make my way through the sounds of their girly squeals and chitter-chatter.

  I have slipped away to the bathroom to check my makeup, patience, and composure, when an elderly white woman walks out of the stall and asks me for a towel. When I politely explain to her that I don’t work at the country club, she asks if I might be related to “one of the nice colored helpers” who does.

  “Your people do such a fine job here, you know,” the old lady insists. “Which one of ’em do you belong to?”

  I want to strangle her. “Well, actually, I’m here for Sissy McKay’s prewedding party,” I inform her. “I’m a guest.”

  “You don’t say?” The woman looks shocked. “Well, how in the world do you know Sissy?”

  “I know Missy, actually.”

  “Well, how in the world do you know her?” The nosey and persistent old lady squints at me.

  “I met her through my one of my childhood friends,” I say, now feeling defensive.

  “Who?” she presses on without shame.

  “Chase. Chase McKenzie.”

  “The Topsail police chief?” She steps back. “Well, man alive! He’s a nice fella, that Chase, and a good-lookin’ one too.”

  I smile. “Yes, he’s a really nice guy.”

  “I hear Missy and Chase may be the next ones walking down the aisle, if Miss Missy has her say,” the woman muses as she turns to peer into the mirror.

  “Oh, my,” I say. “That’s a lot of weddings in one family. Well, have a nice day!” I quickly make my way out of the bathroom and back into the giddy crowd.

  Under white canvas gazebos, dotting the vast and lush green grounds, the champagne flows and the gifts pile up on decorated tables, carefully organized by some of Sissy’s friends. The country club’s perfectly manicured lawn and sprawling gardens are some of the prettiest and most talked about in the area. The azaleas are particularly outstanding this time of year, as they are bursting in color, with hues of fuchsia, lilac, and pink. I spot Missy chatting it up with a group of girls across the way. She looks in my direction, notices me, and starts to head over.

  “Well, I’m so glad you could make it!” Missy oozes as she saunters across the grounds toward me with a hand of welcome up in the air. “I’m so glad you’re ‘one of the girls’ today.”

  “Thank you. It’s nice to be here, Missy. Everything looks so beautiful.”

  “Well, I appreciate that. The workers here at the country club did a good job, but I was cracking the whip the whole time.” Missy laughs. I wonder if she also refers to them as “darkies,” like her mother.

  “Ooo!” she suddenly exclaims. “Is that pretty gift for my Sissy?”

  “Of course it is,” I say, handing over the goods.

  “Oh, thank you so much, Destiny. I just know whatever it is, she’ll love this gift from you!”

  “I hope so.” I feel uncomfortable talking to Missy, knowing her real story now.

  “I’m so glad you came,” Missy gushes again and throws her blonde curls over her shoulder. She cocks her head to the side. “Chase just loves you, you know. He talks about you all the time.”

  “Really?” I say. I am surprised by Missy’s admission.

  “Yep. And I’m getting a little jealous,” she teases. “Destiny, Destiny, Destiny!” She rolls her eyes to the sky. “That’s all Chase talks about lately.”

  I’m not sure where Missy is going with this, but she’s intent.

  “You two seem to be happy,” I offer.

  “You really think so?” Missy asks. “’Cause I wonder if I’m making Chase that happy, ya know? He’s just moving so dang slow, and hecky poo, I want a wedding! Now Destiny, you’re his friend. What does he say to you about me? What can we do to make him marry me? Tell me.”

  “What makes you think you need to do any more than what you’re doing?”

  Missy squinches up her nose and looks away. “I don’t know,” she admits. “I don’t know. He’s just such a good catch—good-lookin’, powerful in a down-home sorta way, and he wears a uniform. I just love a man in uniform. I have to have him. I have to make him my husband.”

  Missy looks so desperate that had I not heard the truth from her own mother’s mouth about her deceptive plot, I might have given the bitch a second chance. But now I see why Chase is so hesitant. He can sense game when he smells it.

  “You can’t make anybody love you, Missy,” I tell her, because it’s true.

  “Well, honey, I’mma do everything I can do. I’ll change his mind, you’ll see. And I might need your help, just between us girls.”

  “Yes, of course,” I reply. “Just between us girls.”

  I hope Missy can’t see my face burning from the inside out.

  “Come on and meet my girls.” Missy takes me by the arm and escorts me toward her posse. “Y’all come on over here and meet Miss Destiny,” Missy calls out. “This is Chase’s friend I told y’all about.”

  Missy then turns back to me with a big beauty-queen smile. I wonder what she told them. She begins her introductions, complete with a little morsel of information about each one of her girlfriends—from the ones she went to high school with, to where they held a job in town, to how many children they have. Some of the group I’d already met with Chase at the fish fry earlier this summer.

  “How do you know Chase anyway?” one girl asks.

  “From childhood—growing up on Topsail,” I reply.

 
“Oh, I see.” She looks taken aback. “You grew up in the trailer park?”

  “Funny. Chase has never mentioned you,” adds another.

  “No, I grew up across the street from Chase in Ocean City.”

  “Ah-h-h-h,” the girls express in unison and surprise, eyebrows raised. They don’t seem to know what else to say, since they were probably forbidden to venture into either neighborhood. So they stand there blinking at me with those fake smiles on their faces. I feel like a fish out of water.

  “Ladies! Ladies!” A woman’s voice over the loud speakers grabs our attention. “Welcome to Sissy’s prewedding party! We are so glad y’all are here. Now, come on around ’cause we got some wonderful entertainment for y’all today.”

  The pastel-painted crowd politely applauds and with delicate oohs and ahs, the ladies move toward the main gazebo, where the entertainment is about to begin. Missy walks to center stage and patiently waits for the crowd to settle down as she prepares to sing. Her accompanist is a tall and handsome man in a military uniform. He is a cadet. The smiling women whisper and point at the man whose back muscles seem to ripple underneath his uniform as he prepares his sheet music at the piano. Could this be her dashing cadet?

  “Good afternoon, everybody,” Missy greets the crowd. “As most of you know, I’m Missy, and I’d like to dedicate this song to my sweet sister, Sissy, who is about to get married.”

  The crowd claps, with some shouting woo-hoos and congratulations thrown in. Missy and the cadet begin their love song.

  Love, soft as an easy chair

  Love, fresh as the morning air

  One love that is shared by two

  I have found in you …

  I suddenly feel faint, as if I am watching this whole scene in an out-of-body experience. Everything seems so surreal. Is another truth playing itself out right here before my eyes? Is Missy, who is now singing to the handsome pianist, really the one destined to be with the man I love? Shouldn’t a song called “Evergreen” be sung for Chase and me?