Plantation Christmas Weddings

by Barnes, Sylvia

“Sure, I’ll meet you there at three.”

  “Great.”

  They walked out to her car. Something still held her back from him, but at least she agreed to go out with him.

  Chapter 3

  Meredith spent the week revising her Kansas novel and trying to prepare a proposal for Linda to send out to the editors. When Saturday came, she wanted to cancel. What purpose would it serve to write novels set in the South? Those women didn’t struggle the way the Midwestern women did. She couldn’t identify with their wealth and power. How could she construct a believable heroine from one of them?

  Nevertheless, she found herself on the dirt road to Longwood. Moss-draped trees shadowed the sunken road. It twisted around and finally emerged by a dark green pond. Above and surrounded by cultivated live oak trees reposed the five-story octagonal house, redbrick with white columns and arches, like something out of Arabian Nights. Those millionaire cotton plantation owners sure tried to outdo each other in grandeur.

  Still following the signs, she rounded the house and pulled down into the graveled parking place beside the basement entrance. Gary met her before she got to the door. “Let’s start you out in the gift shop in the basement.”

  Inside, he introduced her to the other volunteer workers. “I’m going to take Miss Long on a tour. She’s a historical novelist looking for good ideas.”

  “By all means.” The older woman who staffed the cash register beamed at Meredith.

  Gary led her into a room furnished as a parlor. “The Nutts entertained here.”

  Meredith couldn’t believe the tiny size. Why would the Nutts have entertained in such a small room in the basement? Why not up on the ground floor? Even though it contained several fine pieces of furniture, a piano, and an Oriental rug, she couldn’t picture having more than a few people at a time in this room. She wanted to ask Gary, but he continued on with his facts, so she didn’t.

  “Building began in the late 1850s.”

  “Close to the beginning of the Civil War.”

  “Yes. At that time many millionaires in Natchez built big houses, each grander than the last. The Nutts already had a large home, but when the Stantons began building Stanton Hall, Mr. Nutt wanted something even larger, so he bought this forest and started building. Let me show you some other rooms.”

  Meredith followed him into a modest bedroom “Who slept here?”

  “This was the master bedroom.”

  Again she wondered. The large mahogany four-poster bed and elegant chairs and portraits fit a master bedroom, but not the size. “How many children did the Nutts have?”

  “Eleven, but only seven were living at the time they lived at Longwood.” Gary led the way into another room. A sitting room, she guessed, by the simple chairs and the elegant fireplace. The room contained a modest circular staircase, plastered white with polished wooden rails, but they passed on into two rooms with several four-poster beds in each, one for boys and one for girls. Why had everyone lived in this basement? The elegant dining room, with its carved shoofly over the table for fanning guests and shooing flies impressed her. She could picture a family servant standing at the wall, pulling the cord to waft the large fan over the elegant table with its peach-colored china. Still the room felt cramped. Somehow she had expected more from a large mansion.

  The center room struck her. It was round and contained no furniture at all. “What are those?” She pointed to the ceiling.

  “Skylights.” Gary had been strangely quiet, explaining only the rooms’functions but not their history as she expected. “Come with me. I want to show you something now.”

  He took her back into the small, informal sitting room, where he climbed up the circular stairs she had noticed before. As Meredith followed, she saw that the white plastering gave way to bare brick and wood. They came out on the ground floor into an entryway. The front doors opened onto a large wraparound porch overlooking the pond and the road. Brick walls and rough wood outlined the various unfinished rooms with their arched doorways. She had heard parts of Longwood had never been finished, but seeing it like this left her confused. What a waste.

  “That would have been the master bedroom.” Gary indicated a large space behind the stairs with an arched doorway and windows that looked out the front. Just as he had downstairs, Gary took her in a circle. She saw a large room that would have served as a reception room, the large main parlor with its doorways out onto the porch and its huge fireplace. A ladies’ parlor was full of the packing rubbish of seventy years, all covered in thick dust. The dining room with banks of windows overlooking the porch and a huge oak tree beyond would have occupied one side of the floor. Finally, he took her into a center room, the match of the circular room in the basement. “Look straight up.”

  She did, and couldn’t help gasping as the stories extended up and up above her to skylights in a dome.

  “You can see that this would have been a huge house if finished, over thirty thousand square feet. Mr. Nutt planned a whole floor for the girls and one for the boys, with running water in the bathrooms. As it turned out, only the basement was finished, where Mrs. Nutt lived for thirty-three years.”

  Meredith’s head swam from looking up. “What happened, Gary?”

  “When the Yankee workmen heard the war had started, they left their tools and headed north.” Gary pointed out some dusty buckets and tools with the rubbish in the ladies’ parlor.

  “And during the war?”

  “First the Confederates burned over a million dollars of cotton so the Yankees wouldn’t get it. The next year the Union army took the corn crop. Mr. Nutt died, and their other land was sold at sheriff ’s auction to pay taxes. All Mrs. Nutt had left was this property with the house.”

  Meredith stood speechless. This level of tragedy didn’t fit with the life of a spoiled belle. Anyone would become very bitter after such trouble.

  Gary showed her more details, all painting a picture of poverty and ruined hopes. “Would you like to see the auxiliary buildings now?”

  “Yes, absolutely. This is fascinating, Gary. I appreciate your wanting to share this with me.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  One auxiliary building housed a small museum of pictures and newspaper articles from the Nutts’ years at Longwood. Meredith studied the pictures, absorbing the clothing, hairstyles, and activities of the period. An idea for a novel formed in her mind of a bitter, disillusioned woman getting what she deserved after an early life of indulgence and greed. Suddenly an article caught her eye. “Look at this, Gary.”

  “What?” He moved over close enough to see, and she smelled his aftershave, a scent that brought back memories of high school. How she had adored him then. That is, before the banquet.

  She reached out to steady herself. “Look at this obituary. According to this, Mrs. Nutt lived her last few years as a productive and beloved member of Natchez society and her church.”

  “Why does that strike you?”

  “I assumed after all that, she would become bitter and reclusive. I wonder what motivated her. I’ve got to do some more research, but this story’s so amazing, it needs to be told.” She turned to look at him, realizing he stood so close that their faces weren’t ten inches apart. His eyes held warmth and invitation. She started to move closer but caught herself. She wouldn’t let him hurt her again.

  As though nothing had happened between them, Gary guided her outside. “Let’s go get some dinner. I’ve made reservations for us at the Castle Restaurant.”

  “Oh.” The Castle. Only the elite went there. She looked down at her outfit, assessing its suitability for such a place.

  “You look fine, but if you want to freshen up, I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

  Gary waited in the Roberts’s parlor, thinking about the close encounter he and Meredith had had in the museum. Being so near Meredith brought back bittersweet memories of his crush on her from high school. If she had encouraged him at all, he would have kissed her. Did she know that?r />
  Meredith came down the stairs dressed in a black sheath dress with a rope of pearls and black pumps. His first sight of her stunned him. “You look wonderful.”

  “Thank you, Gary. You look pretty good yourself.” She eyed the blazer and tie he had added with approval.

  He led her out to his polished and vacuumed Sentra. She accepted his help into the car without comment. She seemed hesitant to go with him. He still couldn’t read her. “Dunleith isn’t far. Have you ever eaten at the Castle?” He glanced at her and noticed her back stiffen.

  “No, never.”

  “They have pretty good food, I think. I hope you enjoy it. Of course, you’ve probably eaten at some nice places in your travels, haven’t you?”

  She appeared to thaw a notch. “Sometimes the writers’ conference hotels have some really good places to eat. But I’m sure the Castle would rank above those.”

  “Why do you think that?” He made the turn onto Homochitto Street.

  “I don’t know. I always assumed that the upper-crust life of Natchez exceeds anything else. I suppose that doesn’t make sense.”

  “What do you consider the upper crust of Natchez?”

  “Oh, you know. The garden clubs and pilgrimage royalty. People who live in antebellum mansions with antiques and real silver.”

  “People who send their kids to private schools?”

  “Especially those.”

  “Well, then that includes you, doesn’t it?” He looked sidewise at her again.

  “No. It doesn’t include me.”

  He started to argue with her but decided not to. He turned in to Dunleith. The large mansion glowed in the spotlights shining on its white pillars and porches. Boughs of pine garlands decorated with red velvet bows hung on the doors and windows, and a Christmas tree covered in white lights sparkled like diamonds. He parked near the restaurant entrance and came around to open the door for her.

  As she turned toward the restaurant, she suddenly grasped his arm. “Gary, you won’t let me make a fool of myself, will you?”

  Gary sensed the panic in her voice. “No, Meredith, I won’t. You’ll do fine. Perhaps I should be asking you not to let me make a fool of myself.” If she understood the double meaning of his words, she didn’t indicate it.

  Meredith realized how silly she had acted when they reached the door of the Castle. Gary was right. She had been to many nice restaurants because of her writing career. Why should she feel unnerved by this one? Taking a deep breath, she prayed for poise.

  A waiter in formal clothes greeted them and led them to a secluded table. White tablecloths and candlelight, cloth napkins and good flatware—she had dined with these before. The unplastered brick walls caught her attention. What was the history of this building? Gary might know. “When was Dunleith built?”

  “Before the Civil War, but this mansion is the second on this site. The first burned down from a lightning strike.” Gary signaled the waiter. “What do you want, Meredith?”

  “I’ll have the pecan-encrusted chicken with mashed sweet potatoes and collard greens.”

  Gary handed the man the menus. “I’ll have the surf and turf, medium rare, with loaded baked potato.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  After the waiter left, Meredith picked up the thread of their conversation. “What happened here during the Civil War?”

  “A Mr. Davis still owned it then. It’s said he hid some of his thoroughbred racing horses in the basement, under the dining room, and then invited the Yankees to dine with him. He must have had a lot of nerve.”

  “I love stories like that.”

  “Do you remember studying about John Roy Lynch?”

  Meredith nodded. “In Mississippi history. The first black secretary of state in Mississippi.”

  “Right. And congressman during Reconstruction. He mentioned the Davises in his autobiography. He had been Davis’s slave.”

  “Do you mean at Dunleith?”

  “At first, but his mistress had him sent to work in the fields in Louisiana because she thought he needed humbling.”

  “How sad for him. What did he do when the Yankees arrived?”

  “He walked back to find his mother, but she had left, too. He said watching Mrs. Davis trying to fix a meal for her family without help touched him. The Davis family never again had wealth.”

  “You tell such good stories, Gary. I can practically picture people in these houses with all their pride and heartbreak.”

  “And you’ve always been my best audience. Not many people like history that much. Remember how we used to quiz each other before history exams in the library?”

  Meredith toyed with her fork, not wanting to meet his gaze or answer his question. He couldn’t seem to understand how he had poisoned those memories for her.

  At last, Gary spoke again. “Every time I bring up the good times we had in high school, you clam up. Do you mind telling me why?”

  The waiter came just then with their salads. Meredith sighed in relief. Perhaps Gary would get distracted.

  Instead, Gary continued to look at her after saying a blessing, not touching his salad. “Aren’t you going to answer my question?”

  “I hoped you’d let it go.” She picked up her fork and stirred the salad to distribute the dressing. “Gary, I didn’t have the same happy experience in school that you did. I hid out in the library because I got tired of the snide comments.”

  “Who? I never heard any.”

  “It didn’t happen so much in high school, but I still felt their disdain.”

  Gary shook his head. “I don’t know what may have happened to you earlier or who treated you like that in high school, but everyone I knew in high school admired your accomplishments.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. You know, I looked through the annual the other day.”

  “I never got an annual.”

  “Did you know that your picture appeared more times than anyone else’s in the class?”

  “No, I didn’t know that. I assumed…”

  “That since you weren’t a pilgrimage princess or in the homecoming court, you were a nobody?”

  Meredith stared at him, realizing for the first time that she had been somebody in high school: newspaper staff, honor society, drama, history club, valedictorian, academic team. “I didn’t have a lot of friends.”

  “Francine thought of you as a friend, enough to track you down to be in her wedding. And I thought you were my friend, at least I hoped so. I’ve always believed that it’s better to have one or two really good, deep friendships than to have a shallow popularity with everyone.”

  “I don’t even have that now.” She laid down her fork. “I’m completely alone in the world except for my agent.”

  Gary reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You will always have a friend as long as I’m alive.”

  Meredith felt her heart contract at the expression on his face. How could she doubt such sincerity?

  Their entrees came, and their conversation moved to other topics as they ate, but Meredith still felt the warmth of his hand on hers.

  “I can’t believe you ordered collard greens. I get those all the time at home. When I go out, I want a good steak.” Gary grinned at her.

  “So would I, in Kansas, but I haven’t had any good collard greens since my mother died. Hers tasted better, although these are pretty good. You can’t beat the ones pulled right out of the garden and cooked the same day.”

  “Your mother raised a big garden?”

  “Yes. We had fresh tomatoes and melons, butter beans and okra right up into the fall. Then we ate her canned or frozen vegetables all winter. We didn’t buy that much at the grocery store, but we always ate well.”

  “Tell me more about your parents.”

  “You know my father had a disability?”

  Gary nodded. “He received a Purple Heart for Vietnam, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. He learned mechanics skills in the army, so that
’s how he supported us. We had a nice trailer. My mother kept it very clean, and she worked really hard in the garden and for the church. She always loved books, so she read to me a lot. That’s where I got my love of reading.” Meredith sat quietly, thinking about her parents, almost forgetting Gary.

  “Have you been out to your home place since you came back?”

  “No. After the funeral, I arranged for the remains of the trailer and furnishings to be hauled away. We didn’t have any antiques or family heirlooms, just cheap, serviceable furniture. I kept what pictures and personal items I could find. Not much remained after the tornado. I still own the land, but it’s going back to trees now.”

  The waiter brought the check, and Meredith reached for her purse, but Gary picked it up. “My idea, my treat. Don’t even think about it.”

  “Are you sure?” He acted like they were dating.

  “I’m sure.” Gary rose and retrieved her coat. “This has been a pleasure for me. By the way, what are you doing for church tomorrow?”

  “I hadn’t really decided.”

  “Why don’t you go with me and stay to lunch at my family’s afterward?”

  “Oh, I couldn’t impose.”

  “My mother already told me to bring you. She loves your books.”

  That night as Meredith lay in bed, she remembered when Gary took her hand and assured her of his friendship. If he was her friend, why had he accepted that dare? This mystery baffled her.

  Chapter 4

  Church the next day refreshed Meredith. Her church in Kansas was so large that she could slip in and out without actually meeting anyone. Here many people who remembered her or her parents greeted her. During the sermon, Gary shared his Bible with her. Her fingers sensed his hand near hers. The sermon centered on Jesus’ story of the unworthy servant whose master forgave him a huge debt, but he refused to forgive a fellow servant a small debt. That story always made Meredith uncomfortable for some reason, but she set her discomfort aside and praised God for sending Jesus to die for her sins.

  After church, Gary took her to his parents’ home. Mrs. Bishop came out in her apron to welcome Meredith. “Gary has told me so much about you through the years, and I’ve so enjoyed reading your books. Please come in and make yourself at home.”