Plantation Christmas Weddings

by Barnes, Sylvia

  He placed their order and looked seriously at her. “May I ask you a personal question?”

  “Maybe. Depends.”

  “This morning at breakfast, you looked sad when I said I consider you family.” He paused before adding, “Why?”

  Marilyn, caught off guard, hesitated, thinking about her reply. She decided to be honest. “I have no one besides Constance. My husband had a large family, but since his death, they seem to have disappeared. I have no brothers, no sisters, no aunts, uncles.” She choked on the next words. “My parents had me after being married twelve years, and they are deceased now. It touched me. It was a thoughtful thing to say.”

  “I meant it. Really. You have us now. We’re all here for anything you ever need, Marilyn.” He patted her hand. “I couldn’t help but hearing you say in the meeting you have no friends coming to the wedding. Why not?”

  She was somewhat riled by this question. “Must have been before you fell asleep.” She still couldn’t help herself but softened as she continued. “I don’t actually have many friends. There’s Lily.” She held up one finger. “I guess you could add Courtney and Hazel in my office.” Two more fingers rose. “Maybe Elizabeth. Or again, maybe not.” Her three fingers folded back into her hand as she made a fist. “I’m so busy. Really. I don’t have time to…” She stopped and looked at Beau.

  “Again, Marilyn. You have friends now. Family if that suits you.”

  She shook and bowed her head so he wouldn’t see the tears gathered in her eyes. She didn’t look at him as she spoke. “Thank you.” Her words seemed insufficient. She realized she had concentrated on her work and pushed private matters aside. Beau bringing it to the forefront hurt.

  The embarrassing moment was erased when the waitress brought their order. Marilyn didn’t have to lift her head, because when the lady left, Beau began to pray. What did she feel about this man? One minute he was a crude cowhand, the next, a prince on a white horse.

  After the blessing, Marilyn blurted out, “That’s another thing.”

  “What’s another thing?”

  “We quit going to church after my husband died. Constance doesn’t have a spiritual background.”

  Beau was quick to appease her. “She has it now. She made a confession of faith. Our pastor baptized her a few weeks ago.” He paused, as if gauging her reaction. “She wanted to call you. She wanted you there, but she knew you were too busy and you were coming this week.”

  “Oh, I see. I mean I’m glad. I’m sorry I missed it.” She felt her eyes fill. “I made one, too. Long years ago. I’m afraid I haven’t been a good Christian.”

  “Hey, it happens. But God is merciful and loves us unconditionally. You can repent and begin anew. That part of your life will be wiped from the slate. He is a forgiving God.”

  She smiled and wiped a tear with her napkin. “Yes, He is. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. How’s your sandwich?”

  “The best seafood of my life.”

  “Knew it.”

  After leaving the restaurant, Beau, without mentioning it to Marilyn, drove a few blocks to the river.

  He saw her looking out the window and knew the question was coming.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I thought you might like to get a good look at the river.” He pulled beside the street’s curb and parked.

  She continued looking. “The Mississippi surely is wide. Look, Beau, a riverboat.”

  “I don’t want to spoil any surprises, but I’d bet that’s what the kids have in mind for tomorrow night.”

  “You think so? How wonderful.” She turned from the window and looked at him, her eyes sparkling. Not quite the tough bird she pretended to be.

  “If it’s what they do, don’t say I mentioned it.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t. But it would be lovely.”

  “Care to brave the cold? We can sit in the gazebo a few minutes.

  “Sure.”

  He opened the door and helped her with her coat. Taking her hand, he guided her to a bench facing the river. Lights reflected on the water like stars on a clear night. She shivered, and he wanted to warm her by moving closer, but that would be a mistake. “You’re freezing. We’ll only stay a minute.”

  “It’s okay.” She looked across the river. “No wonder it’s called the ‘mighty Mississippi.’ ”

  “Yeah. I’ve seen it from almost every port. It never fails to amaze me.” He looked at her. She seemed different tonight. “Marilyn, what happened to your husband?”

  “Brain tumor. He was only thirty-three.” She continued to stare at the river.

  Beau was sorry he asked. Sadness had replaced the gleam in her expression as she turned to face him. “What about your wife?”

  “Car wreck.” He felt his jaw tighten, and anger overcame him as it did every time he remembered it.

  “What’s wrong? Are you mad at me for asking?”

  “No. But it’s a subject I can’t discuss. I try not to even think about it.”

  She hesitated before replying. “You must have loved her so much.”

  He slapped his hand on the seat of the bench. “Yeah, unfortunately I did.” He stood and turned toward her. “Ready to go?”

  “Of course. Beau, I’m sorry I asked.” She stammered through an apology. “It’s just you…so I thought…I’m sorry.”

  “You’re right. I did bring it up. Forget it. Come on, let’s get back.”

  He didn’t say anything on the way back to Dunleith. He hated that she regretted bringing up his past, thinking she was introducing fresh sorrow to his heart. She would be surprised to know sorrow was the least of his emotions.

  Marilyn’s cell phone rang. She gave Beau an apologetic look when he glanced her way.

  “Hello.”

  “Mom, where are you?”

  “On the way back to Dunleith. Beau and I had dinner.”

  “I need to talk to you. Can we have breakfast in the morning at the Castle Restaurant?”

  “Is anything wrong?”

  “No, I just want to run some things by you about the wedding.”

  “Sure, honey. What time?”

  “Eight?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Thanks, Mom. See you tomorrow.”

  Marilyn hit the End button and slipped her phone back in her purse as Beau drove up to the Dairy Barn. She unhooked her seat belt and looked at him when he stopped.

  He turned toward her. “Problem?”

  “No, wedding matters.” She took a small breath. “Beau, I enjoyed this evening, and I’m so sorry if I intruded by asking too many questions. I guess I’m an attorney 24-7.”

  He shook his head. “No, you didn’t. I was at fault for asking the first question. Look, Marilyn. Both of us have had a past, maybe good sometimes, maybe bad at times. I really want us to be a family. I love Constance like my own daughter, Heather. I can’t wait for you to meet her and my mom. Let’s look forward and not relive the past.” His look was serious. Steady. “Does that suit you?”

  “Yes. Of course, and thanks for this evening.”

  Beau clipped her chin with the crook of his finger. “You bet, little lady. I had a great time.”

  What was it about this man? She couldn’t figure it out. She waited for him to open her door as she had learned he was prone to do. They walked to the front door, his hand again on her back. She thought she could feel the warmth even through her jacket. Heat rose up her neck, and her face felt warm. She hoped it wasn’t red when she faced him inside, glad only the lamp was burning. She patted his arm and turned toward the stairs. “Thanks again. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Beau grabbed her sleeve and turned her around. “That’s it? Wouldn’t you like to watch some television, have some coffee?”

  She looked toward the TV, as if seeing it would help her with an excuse. “Sounds nice, but I really need to get up early.”

  “Yeah, breakfast and all. Sure, babe. I’ll just see you in the morni
ng. If you make coffee, knock on my door and wake me up when it’s ready.”

  “Sure. Babe.” She turned toward the stairs. This time she hurried. Redneck Bubba was back.

  Marilyn waited ten minutes in front of the restaurant before Constance appeared. She couldn’t help chuckling when she thought of how she dressed and left without making coffee. She assumed Beau was still asleep. Wake him up when the coffee was ready. Not in my lifetime. She resumed her straight face when she saw Constance coming.

  “Hi, Mom. Sorry I’m late.”

  “Déjà vu. Heard that before.” Marilyn couldn’t help but smile. She missed her daughter, the good times and trials, too. She didn’t look much different. Her strawberry-blond hair, inherited from her father, swinging in a ponytail. Her fresh-faced smile. Her glass always half full. She would be a joy to anyone.

  Constance hugged her mother. “Let’s eat. I’m starved.”

  “Nothing new there, either.” Marilyn received a punch in the arm.

  Once seated and order placed, Marilyn asked, “Everything go okay yesterday? Flowers and pictures taken care of ?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t order anything but a vase of fresh flowers for the large table at the reception. Oh, and some white roses to mix in with their garlands.”

  “Fine. So what do you want to discuss?”

  “Mom, you can’t even fathom what it’s like to be a woman in this state. I guess it would be true in all Southern states.” Constance leaned back against her chair and sighed.

  “What’s this about? Are you having second thoughts?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s just so different from the way we lived. I mean you can’t take a crash course in how to become a Southern belle. I think it’s something taught at birth and descends from generation to generation.”

  “What is? What are you talking about, Constance?”

  She shook her head. “You have no idea. Did you know making chicken salad is a must? You have to make it to fit in. You have never made chicken salad. How would I know how?”

  “Dear, you are not making any sense. Why do you have to make chicken salad to be a—what did you call it—Southern belle? And why do you have to be one anyway?”

  “I told you. You have no idea. Justin’s grandmother has this circle of friends. Their daughters have circles of friends. They have church functions all the time. When they do lunch, most of the time they have chicken salad and fruit. If I have anyone over, I can only cook spaghetti. Or pizza.”

  Marilyn reached across the table and patted her daughter’s hand. “You’re getting nervous, honey. Everything seems bigger than it is. Chicken salad is not hard, and I have made it before. It’s made like tuna salad. We’ve eaten many tuna sandwiches.”

  “No, it’s not that simple. It has lots of stuff in it. They even put nuts in it. And grapes. And did you know there are only about twelve patterns of acceptable silver? And most of these ladies change their china patterns every season? And Justin’s grandmother says you never serve potato salad on fine china. I will never fit in.” Constance’s ponytail swung back and forth as she shook her head again. “And listen to this. If something falls below the esteemed Southern belle’s idea of how something should look or be, they say, ‘How tacky.’ ”

  Marilyn laughed. So much for the half-full glass. “I think you are taking these things too seriously. I have never heard such things.”

  “Precisely, Mom. And neither had I. I’m learning more every day. They make chicken and dressing instead of stuffing. And with cornmeal. I’m going to have to visit Paula Deen to learn how to cook like they do.”

  “Sweetheart, you’ll learn. I’m sure Justin’s grandmother will teach you. According to Beau, she’s a sweet lady.”

  “She is. They have a large family. I’m not used to that. It’s overwhelming. I’m glad we are going to be here for Thanksgiving. This restaurant is preparing a true Southern meal. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”

  “Don’t fret. You have premarital jitters. You’ll ease into it all. I promise.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” Constance’s uncommon demeanor tugged at Marilyn’s heart.

  “I am. Wait and see.”

  Their breakfast arrived, and Constance reached for her mother’s hand when the waiter left. “Justin has taught me we need to always say a blessing. Do you mind?”

  “No, dear, of course not. Beau says one, too.” Marilyn felt ashamed she had never thanked God in front of her child before. That she had to learn this from others. She bent her head as she listened to her daughter’s beautiful words.

  “Dear Lord. How can I say thanks for all You have done for me? My wonderful mother, the father I knew for such a short time. The blessings You bestow. And Justin. Forgive me my frivolous concerns, Lord, for I am so very rich. Thank You for this food, and may it nourish us for Your service. Amen.”

  Marilyn squeezed her daughter’s hand when she finished. “I’m so proud of you. Beau told me about your decision to trust Christ. It’s the best thing any of us can do in our life. I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

  “Thank you, Mom. I knew you were busy, but I should have called you.” She sipped her coffee. “Oh, and there’s one more thing. I didn’t think to ask about a wedding cake for the reception.” She laughed. “We were more concerned about the wings.”

  “Oh dear. We will try and meet with her after breakfast. If they can’t do it, I’m sure they will recommend a bakery.” Marilyn looked down at her plate. She had splurged and ordered pancakes. Beau would be so proud.

  They ate in silence a few minutes. Marilyn used this opportunity to ask the question that had been on her mind since the night before. “Constance, do you know what happened to Justin’s mother?”

  “She got killed in a car wreck.”

  “Yes, I know. But is there anything else? Beau seemed to get angry when he told me about it last night.”

  “No. I can’t imagine what else it could be. Justin has only told me how she was killed. I think he was once bitter, but Beau leaned on the Lord during that time. Still does. He occasionally sings a song in church. In his testimony, he proclaims he has been a Christian since he was nine years old. But it was the accident that enlightened him as to what it really means.”

  Marilyn choked on a bite of pancake. She quickly took a sip of coffee and sputtered out, “Beau sings? What is the song?”

  “One made popular by Charles Johnson. ‘I Can’t Even Walk without You Holding My Hand.’ Mother, when Mr. Burnham sings that song, there’s not a dry eye in the church.”

  “Amazing. Okay.” Marilyn sat back and took a deep breath. “Really amazing. Please don’t mention I asked. I don’t mean to be nosy. It was just odd, is all.”

  “I won’t mention it. Boy, aren’t these pancakes good?”

  Marilyn nodded. Oh, the minds of the young. From someone’s death to pancakes in the time it takes to snap a finger.

  Chapter 4

  After listening to Constance talk to her wedding planner for ten minutes, Marilyn finished her third coffee refill and deliberately set the cup on the saucer. The noisy clink brought Constance’s gaze toward her. Marilyn signaled with her hand to wrap it up. Her daughter smiled and told Wreath she’d call later.

  “What?” Constance lifted her eyebrows as she looked at her mother.

  “I think you gathered your information in the first two minutes. We need to select a cake?”

  “Mom, I think you should leave your alter personality in the office. No wonder you don’t have many friends.”

  “That hurt.”

  Constance relented. “I know. I’m so sorry. But, really, you need to relax and discover a life outside of the courtroom. But, yes, we need to go into town. I know exactly what I want.”

  Marilyn was digesting and trying to process what Constance had told her. She knew she was too uptight. After observing Beau and Constance as they displayed their faith, maybe she needed to rediscover hers. She would have to dig deep. She lifted the ticket
from the table and responded. “Okay, baby, I’ll do better. I’m charging this to my room.” She signed the ticket and stood.

  Constance sighed. “I need to let Justin know I’ll be gone awhile. We could shop for your dress for the wedding, too.” She glanced at her mom’s clothing. “For sure, I’d like to be in on that.”

  Marilyn leaned toward her. “You’re hurting me again.”

  Marilyn turned on Natchez’s Main Street. “Oh my. Look, they’re putting up a giant Christmas tree. Right in the middle of the street!”

  “They have it blocked, Mom. You’ll have to turn at the next intersection.”

  “Where is the bakery, Constance?” Her voice was firm, suspecting. As usual.

  “Actually, it’s on John R. Junkin. But I thought we’d see a dress shop downtown.”

  “Let’s order the cake first. I can get a dress in Denver.”

  “Well, according to the map, we can turn right here and hit Franklin, turn right on Homochitto and get on John R Junkin.”

  “So we’re going in circles?”

  “Sorta.”

  Marilyn continued to follow Constance’s directions. She was actually not disturbed by this. At least she wouldn’t be exposed to Beau for a while. “What’s the name of the bakery?”

  “Edna’s.”

  “Isn’t that it?” She pointed to the sign.

  “Yes, pull in.”

  Marilyn was ahead of her. She had already slowed down and turned on her signal. She stopped in front of the bakery. “Are they open?” It appeared to be dark inside.

  “Yes. Let’s go.

  They were seated at a table with a photograph book of various wedding cakes. Constance exclaimed, “This is it.” They were only on page 2.

  “Are you sure?” Marilyn was looking at three double layers positioned by the stand at different angles. It was beautiful, with ivory icing and elegant white roses floating across the layers in clusters of four.

  “Mom, it’s perfect. I want to check and see if they can add a red ribbon with icing, though. My dress, which you haven’t seen, by the way, is ivory with delicate white roses trimming the bodice and a white train. I know it sounds strange, but it is so pretty.”