He couldn’t sleep. He wondered which cows died. He ran over the possibilities for their death. His thoughts were intermittently interrupted by thoughts of Marilyn. He knew she wore a facade. He knew she had it within her to be warm. And loving. He had seen it. And what about her faith? She said she had, in the past, gone to church. She indicated she had accepted Jesus as her Savior. Did she push that faith so deep after her husband died that it only surfaced at times? He knew about that. Death would have been hard enough, but the other? Only God could have picked him up. But it took him a while to let Him. And now? Beau couldn’t even walk without Him holding his hand. His wife’s death had given him a double grief. Sadly the grief of her death had been overshadowed by the horror of the circumstances involved. He still harbored anger, hadn’t yielded it completely to the Lord.
Chapter 5
Bright light filtered through the window. Marilyn rolled over to face the door. But sleep wouldn’t return. She stretched, pulling her toes along the tightness of the sheet. A faint but familiar scent wafted its way across the room. She sat up and sniffed. Coffee. Throwing the covers off, she headed for the bathroom. She donned her robe and left for the kitchen, running her fingers through her hair as she walked down the stairs.
Beau stood by the pot with two cups in his hands, one reaching toward her. “Coffee?”
“Do you expect exoneration?”
“Yes.”
Marilyn laughed. “Well, sir, you have it. Coffee is my weakness.”
“I knew that.”
Sipping the steaming beverage, Marilyn studied Beau. His sandy hair was in disarray. His blue eyes seemed to search hers. He was a handsome man. A big guy but not overweight. Just tall and muscular. She could tell by his arms and the flatness of his stomach beneath the funny words, “Cows Rule.” She assumed he had not brought a change of pajamas. She set her coffee down. Before it spilled from shaking hands. What was wrong with her? She had not been this affected by a man since Dan.
Beau’s amusement reflected in his speech. “You okay?”
“Yes. What time is it?”
“Nine. You slept later than usual.”
Now he knows my sleeping habits. “Guess so. What time are we meeting the kids at the restaurant for lunch?”
“Noon. Want some nabs with your coffee to tide you over?”
“Nabs? Are those peanut butter crackers?” She had heard the term but couldn’t help teasing him.
“Yeah. They’re in my suitcase. I’ll get us a pack.”
Watching him leave, she observed his muscular back, closing her eyes before her curiosity led her further. “Get a grip.” She spoke softly to herself.
The package was already open when he returned. He allowed her to take the first two.
By the time she consumed them, he had finished the other four.
“Sorry. I have some more if you want.”
“No. I’m saving my appetite for the meal you all have told me about.”
“Great. Do you want to dress and walk around before we eat?”
“No, I have some paperwork to do. But thanks for the coffee. I’ll meet you down here at ten till.” Marilyn patted his arm and left the kitchen. An arm she could easily lean on. She ran up the stairs and locked the door to the room. Paperwork could wait. She fell across the bed and envisioned Beau holding her. In those hard, strong arms.
Justin had reserved a table at the Castle Restaurant. The Thanksgiving feast on a buffet table was sending enticing aromas across the room. Beau handed Marilyn a small menu announcing the choices for lunch. He looked over her shoulder as she read them aloud. “Herb and citrus-glazed turkey, Southern corn bread dressing, cranberry clementine relish, bacon-wrapped green beans.” She stopped reading until she came across the desserts. “Umm, savory bread pudding with apples.”
Beau added, “Southern pecan pie. And pear-walnut Huguenot torte? Not sure what that’s about.”
Marilyn glanced over at the buffet. “I don’t know, but I’m ready to try it.”
Beau stood. “Okay, let’s have a blessing before we serve ourselves.” He turned to a party of eight adjacent to them, noticing they hadn’t yet served themselves. “Want to join us in a Thanksgiving prayer?”
One of the men frowned at him. “Are you kidding us, sir?”
Beau was surprised by the answer. “Why, no. I just thought as long as we were saying our blessing, I could say one for all of us.”
“You assume a lot. If you don’t mind, we’ll tend to our own business.” The man rose and encouraged his party to follow him to the buffet.
Beau stayed silent. He felt foolish. He had only been trying to be friendly. He looked around the table and saw mixed emotions. Justin and Constance seemed to feel sorry for him. Marilyn looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend anyone.”
Justin nodded in sympathy. “It’s okay, Dad. Say our blessing.”
Beau sat before praying. He couldn’t say it. “Justin, would you say the blessing?”
“Sure, Dad.” Justin bowed his head. “Dear Lord, I have so many things to be thankful for today. The first is Your love and saving grace. I thank You for Constance and for my family. Thank You for Your provisions, for this food we are about to eat. Bless it so it will sustain us for Your service. Amen.”
Beau reached over and patted his hand. “Thanks, son. Let’s eat.”
They served themselves and sat back down. Beau glanced at Marilyn’s plate. “You should have gotten more dressing. You hardly have a spoonful.”
“Beau, I know you love to be ‘in charge.’” She glanced at the table next to them. “But if you don’t mind, I would like to make my own decisions about what I eat. Just a suggestion.”
Beau knew she was embarrassed, but she even seemed angry. “Sorry, hon. I was just trying to be helpful.”
She didn’t respond.
Justin and Constance tried to bring cheerfulness back to the table. They talked about the good food, the wedding, and Christmas. But Beau and Marilyn remained silent.
At the end of the meal, Beau was pleased to hear Marilyn finally speak.
“I have to say, this was a terrific meal. The dressing was better than I expected. Constance, you’ll have to get me a recipe from Justin’s grandmother.”
Beau said, his voice soft, “I’m really glad you liked it. And I’m truly sorry I ruined our first Thanksgiving meal together.”
Marilyn stood, and while hugging Justin and Constance, replied, “It’s okay. Maybe you learned something.”
Beau watched her walk out of the restaurant, and then he turned back to the kids. “Again, I’m sorry.”
Everything inside Marilyn congealed. The shock of Beau imposing on the people seated next to them had momentarily paralyzed her. Oddly, this morning she had forgotten how boorish he could be. So much for the strong arms to lean on. She hurried back to the Dairy Barn, wishing she had not promised her daughter she would stay until Saturday. She didn’t feel like going to the lighting of the Christmas tree. Denver seemed so far away right now. But her mind took her there. Her heart was safe there.
Once in her room, she locked the door. In an attempt to buffer her thoughts, she turned on the television. A Paula Deen rerun on making dressing. She turned to the news. Depressing. She found a movie. Cary Grant wooing Deborah Kerr. She turned it off and stared out the window. Colorful leaves fluttered across the lawn. The limbs would soon be bare. Much like her soul.
Paperwork still waiting, she sat on the bed and opened the nightstand drawer. The book stared back at her. Holy Bible. She lifted it and began to flip through the pages, hoping God would help her find just the right passage. One to soothe her. She stopped in John and looked at the page. Her eyes fell to verse 27 of the 14th chapter. “Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”
Marilyn let the Bible rest on her lap and glanced out the window. Shame flowed through her. She had pu
t her only hope, her first love, on the back burner. The Lord was surely the source of peace. Of joy and happiness. She didn’t need Beau or anyone else. She bowed her head and prayed for forgiveness. And then she eased the rest of her body on the bed and slept.
After lunch Beau didn’t bother Marilyn. He went shopping with Constance and Justin. They browsed the few open antique shops for accessories for their new home—a house eighty years old and only five miles down the road from Beau, but the most beautiful place in the world to the kids. They wanted to furnish it in keeping with its era. Beau smiled as they bantered with each other over items they wanted. He slipped behind their backs and purchased a few things they had reluctantly returned to the shelves. When they questioned what was in his bags, he responded, “I can shop for my house, too.”
It was dark when they returned to Dunleith. Beau, noticing her car hadn’t been moved all day, was anxious to check on Marilyn. Once inside the Dairy Barn, he eased up the stairs to find her door closed. He knocked softly, but no one answered. Knowing he shouldn’t, he turned the knob. Locked. Disturbed, he went back downstairs, ate a pack of nabs, and dressed for bed. He stretched across the bed and wondered what tomorrow would bring. He had dated a few women since his wife’s death, but he had not felt the sensations plaguing him now. And why? Marilyn wasn’t exactly a bundle of womanly tenderness. Not exactly who he had expected to care for, or even like very much. But he did. Guilty on both counts.
The knock on the door had awakened Marilyn. She also heard the knob turn. Wow. How brazen was this man? Despite the slight growls in her stomach, she would not leave her room. Instead, she delved into her briefcase and worked until midnight, finally giving in to sleep when her eyes started feeling heavy.
Marilyn woke up and jumped from her bed to check the time on her phone. Six o’clock. She showered, washed her hair, and dressed for the day. Warm air had blown in from the Gulf, so she dressed in a pair of khakis and a pin tuck, buttercream blouse over a vicuña-brown tank. After applying a light coat of makeup, she fashioned her hair in a short braid that fell just past her collar. Then she grabbed her purse and set out for the day.
Her feet fell light on the steps as she tried to keep Beau from hearing her. Once in the car and on her way—to where she didn’t know—she called Constance.
“Sweetheart, what is the plan for this evening? I know you wanted me to stay for the Christmas lights, but do you have an agenda?”
“Mom, are you in your room?”
“No. I’m driving.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m not sure. I just want to know when to return.”
“What’s wrong? Are you mad at Mr. Burnham?”
Marilyn hesitated as she thought about the question. “Not really. I just need some time to myself.”
Constance’s voice drew out—“Okaay. Well, I guess we’ll walk around downtown and grab a bite to eat while we wait for the lighting of the tree. Do you have anywhere you want to eat?”
“No. But I’m sure Beau does. Ask him.”
“You are mad at him.”
“No, Constance, I’m not. I just need some space.”
“Okay, but be nice. Remember, this is mine and Justin’s special time. Don’t mess it up. Please.”
Marilyn cringed as she was reminded of this. “I know, baby. I promise I won’t. Just tell me what time you think we’ll leave.”
“I guess about five thirty. I think they light the Christmas tree at seven. That will give us time to find somewhere to eat. I hear Main Street will be crowded. They block it off for this.”
“Okay. I’ll be ready. Have a good day, honey.”
“You, too, Mom. Just don’t get lost.”
“I won’t.”
As Marilyn hung up, she spotted a McDonald’s. She pulled in, anxious for a sausage biscuit and a good cup of coffee. Since she missed dinner the night before, she was starving.
As she ate, she observed the older couple sitting next to her. She picked up her tray and turned to them.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could tell me somewhere near Natchez I could visit today.”
The gray-haired woman smiled, crinkles framing her light blue eyes. “Where are you from, dear?”
“Denver. I’m here to help my daughter plan a wedding at Dunleith.”
“Such a lovely place.” She looked at her husband. “Fred and I have spent a weekend there. Even though we live in Natchez.” She patted his knee before looking back at Marilyn.
“You need to drive down Highway 61 to St. Francisville. The town has beautiful homes and neat shops. I think you would enjoy it.”
Marilyn rested her hand on the lady’s shoulder. “Thank you so much. I’ll do just that.”
She pulled her keys from her purse and walked out, looking forward to her adventure.
Beau had no idea where Marilyn was. But he waited for her all day to return. He started getting dressed for the evening at four, and before he could pull his turtleneck over his head, he heard her come in. He couldn’t see to walk to the door—his head stuck as he tried to get his arms in the sleeves—but he tried and stumbled over the nightstand, hitting his knee on its corner.
“Ow!”
By the time he stuck his head through the tight neck of the shirt, he heard her last two steps on the stairs before she opened and shut her door. He would have to wait until she was ready to go. He finished dressing and looked in the mirror. Stonewashed jeans, white cotton-knit turtleneck, and his brown corduroy blazer. He combed his sandy blond hair, which badly needed to be trimmed, and applied Old Spice. Justin had tried to get him to upgrade his fragrance, but he had always worn his favorite cologne and he always would.
Satisfied with his appearance, which he knew concerned him only because of Marilyn, he went into the living room and turned on the television. And waited. For an hour.
He watched her walk down the steps. She looked young like her daughter. She was beautiful. As she took the last step, she looked at him and smiled. Was it forced? He returned it as he stood.
“Are the kids picking us up?” She stood by the chair.
He looked at his watch. “Yes, any minute now. Have a seat.”
“No, if it’s time, I’ll stand.”
“Okay. How was your day?” He somehow knew not to ask where she had been.
“Good. I enjoyed it.” No comment as to her whereabouts.
“I’m glad.” Strained. Kids, hurry up.
Beau stood at the sound of the horn. “Well, they’re here.” Thank goodness. “After you, Marilyn.” He held out his arm toward the door.
They climbed into the backseat, Beau allowing Marilyn to fend for herself. What else should he do, the way she was acting?
Justin turned toward his father. “Okay, where to?”
“I think we should park on the street by the river, if possible. Then we can walk wherever we want.”
The streets were congested with traffic because so many people were going to the tree lighting. But Justin maneuvered the car patiently and pulled into a tight spot on South Broadway by the river. They got out and started walking toward downtown. Only one street over, Beau hollered.
“Whoa. Look at that.”
They all looked toward where his finger pointed.
“Fat Mama’s Tamales. Let’s do it.”
Constance looked at her mother. “Mom?”
“Whatever.”
Beau turned toward them. “Okay, I just thought it would be fun. And who doesn’t like hot tamales?”
Marilyn seemed to relent. “Of course. It sounds great.” She even offered a pleasing smile.
“Good, then. Let’s go.” Beau seemed eager to get to the restaurant, which didn’t look crowded at the moment.
Beau ordered a dozen tamales for the table, but each decided on a different entrée. Constance ordered a taco salad, Justin, two gringo pies, Marilyn, Natchez nachos, and Beau, well, more tamales.
Watching Marilyn eat her
nachos was a treat for Beau. “You hungry, girl?”
Marilyn stopped eating and glared at Beau. Beau saw Constance elbow her mother, who suddenly smiled. Again, forced. “Yes, matter of fact, I am. No lunch.”
He wanted so badly to inquire where she’d been, but refrained. “Well, go to it, then. Glad to see you enjoy your food.” He was beginning to wonder if he felt anything for her or not. Obviously, she didn’t care much for him. That thought brought a little hurt to his heart. Guess his emotions were doing a two-step. Didn’t matter. She would be leaving the next morning. He would be glad to get back to his cows. Which were happy just to graze. No worries. Then his thoughts turned to the ones that died. He still didn’t have an answer.
Beau paid the bill and plopped a large tip on the table. He glanced at Marilyn, who was watching him with no small amount of disdain. What?
Justin and Constance thanked him for the wonderful meal, after which Marilyn expressed her sentiments. At least she enjoyed it.
They left and walked north toward Main Street where the lighting event was to take place. Once there, they assembled as close to the Christmas tree as the crowd allowed.
Beau looked at his watch. Five more minutes. They remained quiet, waiting for the big moment.
Christmas carols floated down the street as cool air from the northwest blew the warm air back toward the Gulf. And suddenly the colorful lights exploded on the huge tree. A chorus of “aahs” commemorated the spirit of Christmas as “Joy to the World” brought to light the true meaning of the celebration. The crowd sang along. And Marilyn put her hand over her heart. As if to commend that act, all the lights decorating the streets came on. The Christmas season had begun. And soon a marriage.
Chapter 6
Marilyn’s alarm sounded at five. Because of her earlier flight change, she had a layover in Dallas. She had told everyone good-bye after the lighting of the tree downtown and the return to Dunleith. After dressing, she closed and snapped her suitcase and eased down the stairs so she wouldn’t awaken Beau. The scent of fresh coffee rose up the stairs to greet her. Maybe the coffee was worth another good-bye.
Plantation Christmas Weddings Page 5