Plantation Christmas Weddings

by Barnes, Sylvia

  Meredith looked around the living room a bit awed. The antique furniture with its carved armrests and backs, the massive mirrors and worn Oriental rugs—no doubt his forebears had owned this house and passed it down. The painted portraits on the walls reminded her that Gary came from a long line of Natchez royalty. How could she make herself at home in a house so intimidating?

  “Those are my great-grandparents, Samuel and Mary Galbraith Martin. Gary pointed at the portraits. She came from Pennsylvania to teach and met my grandfather here. My mother remembers her. You should ask her. I think my great-grandmother must have been a fascinating person and a very strong Christian.”

  Looking closer at her picture, Meredith could see the resemblance to Gary, the same intelligence and seriousness, but kindness, too. Suddenly Mary Galbraith Martin was more like a friend than an imposing ancestor. “What did your great-grandfather do?”

  “Practiced law. My mother says he worked very hard to protect the rights of freedmen in the early twentieth century.”

  “You have a grand Christian heritage, Gary.”

  “My parents have always told me that God doesn’t have grandchildren. Every generation has to enter into a relationship with God individually.”

  “My daddy told me the same thing. I think growing up with a Christian heritage sometimes clouds our understanding of our need for Christ.” She turned from the pictures to sit gingerly on a chair.

  “That’s perceptive. I think I’ve had similar ideas, but I couldn’t express it as well as you do.”

  Mrs. Bishop appeared at the door. “Dinner’s ready. Come this way, Meredith.” She led her into the large dining room with its massive buffet and china cabinet filled with silver and delicate crystal. The table sparkled with lovely china and glassware.

  Gary’s father came in from the kitchen carrying a platter of roast beef with potatoes, carrots, and onions. “Welcome, Miss Long. We’re honored to have you with us today.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Bishop. I appreciate the invitation.”

  Meredith watched Mr. Bishop set down the platter then turn to seat his wife. Suddenly she became aware that Gary stood right behind her, ready to help her as well. The intimacy of that action in this family setting unnerved her. She felt breathless when Mr. Bishop said his blessing. “God bless this food and this guest with us today. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  The dinner tasted marvelous, with butter beans and mashed potatoes to go with the roast and other vegetables. “Mrs. Bishop, this is the tenderest roast I’ve ever had. You’re a wonderful cook.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

  Gary picked up the rolls and passed them. “Meredith is working on a new novel set at Longwood.”

  “Longwood? What period?” Mrs. Bishop buttered her roll.

  “I’m not sure, but I wanted to include Mrs. Julia Nutt in it. She fascinates me. She went through so much but maintained her dignity until her death.”

  “My grandmother was Mrs. Nutt’s friend.”

  Gary looked at his mother, surprise etched in his face. “You never told me that.”

  “It never came up before. My grandmother had just married, and Mrs. Nutt was very near the end of her life, but they had a close relationship. I think they continued to correspond when Mrs. Nutt grew too old to get out and Grandmother began having babies.

  “Did your grandmother tell you stories or talk about Mrs. Nutt?” Meredith leaned forward in her excitement.

  “Not particularly, but I think I have something that might help you.”

  “Research must take a lot of time.” Mr. Bishop smiled at Meredith.

  “It does. That’s why I often do a series, because I can use the same research to do more than one book.”

  “Could you do a series set in Natchez?” Gary wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I could help you look at other homes and dig up some more ideas.”

  His enthusiasm stirred something inside of Meredith. How lonely her life had been as a novelist. What would it be like to have someone helping her who sympathized? “You have so much to do with your teaching, Gary.”

  “Nothing would please me more than helping you.” He said this with such warmth that Meredith capitulated.

  “Then I accept. You’ve helped a lot already.”

  “Great.”

  Mrs. Bishop rose and removed the dishes from the table. Meredith followed suit. “No, you stay there,” Mrs. Bishop gently ordered. “I’ll be back in a moment with dessert.”

  Meredith sat down unwillingly. Much as she disliked doing dishes, the thought of Mrs. Bishop doing them alone bothered her more.

  In a moment, the dessert arrived, a spice cake, still warm from the oven, topped with a dollop of whipped cream. Mr. Bishop offered everyone coffee to go with it.

  “Now, Meredith. I don’t want to keep you from your research, but I want to invite you to a meeting with me.” Mrs. Bishop sat down and reached for her fork.

  “At your church?”

  “No, my garden club. We meet in Stanton Hall on Tuesdays at two. I’d be delighted if you’d be my guest.”

  Guest at the Natchez Pilgrimage Garden Club? She’d dreamed of such things but never thought it could happen to her. All her insecurity came back in a flash. “Mrs. Bishop, I’d be honored, if you’re sure I wouldn’t be in the way.”

  “They’ll welcome you, my dear. Members bring guests all the time.”

  “Thank you. I’ll come.”

  As soon as they had finished, Mrs. Bishop shooed them out to the living room. “You talk some more about those novels. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

  Gary offered her a seat. “If you like, I can come on Tuesday to Stanton Hall and give you a tour after your meeting. You might find something useful there. They have the best period furniture, if nothing else.”

  “All of you are so kind. I’m overwhelmed with your help.”

  “Miss Long, it isn’t often this family has the opportunity to help a bestselling author”—Mr. Bishop laughed— “we’re happy to do whatever we can, even if it’s just listening.”

  “You don’t know what that means to me.” Meredith felt tears rise to the surface. “I’ve been alone for so long.”

  “I’ll never forget your parents. I trusted your father with my car repairs. He always did quality work and charged fair prices.”

  “Thank you for saying that.”

  Gary reached across from the chair next to her and squeezed her hand, startling her into composure. “Do you think you could get anything from Dunleith?”

  “Possibly. But let’s keep looking for other ideas.”

  Mrs. Bishop came into the living room carrying a small package. “I thought I had these somewhere. These are the letters written from Mrs. Nutt to my grandmother.”

  “Oh, Mrs. Bishop. What a treasure! Are you sure you want me to take these?”

  “Our family saved them all these years. I believe God preserved them for you to read, Meredith. Perhaps you’ll find something for your novel in these.”

  “I don’t know what to say but thank you.” On impulse, Meredith hugged Mrs. Bishop, who patted her back softly.

  “By the way, what are your plans for Thanksgiving?”

  Meredith had forgotten about Thanksgiving. How could she answer this question without inviting herself ?

  Mrs. Bishop didn’t wait for an answer. “If you don’t have any plans, we’d really like to have you eat with us. Our older daughter and her husband are bringing our grandchildren.”

  “That’s so kind. I couldn’t insert myself into your family time.”

  “I’m inviting you. You aren’t inserting yourself. Gary will pick you up around eleven on Thursday. Right, son?”

  “Absolutely.” His eyes twinkled at Meredith, as if to say, Don’t fight it.

  “Thank you. For everything.” Meredith felt a little weepy again.

  “You are most welcome. Well, Gary, your father and I are headed for our Sabbath rest, but you can visit as long as
you like.”

  Gary grinned at her after his parents left the parlor. “They have always taken a nap on Sunday afternoon. They like to call it their Sabbath rest.”

  “I really like your parents. These letters will make all the difference. Nothing beats primary sources, but they’re rare.”

  “I’m amazed at how much more I find out about my family when I bring someone home. I thought I knew everything.”

  Meredith wondered how many other young women Gary had brought home for his parents to meet. The thought made her restless. “If you don’t mind, I think I want to have some of that Sabbath rest, too. Would you mind taking me back to the Roberts’s?”

  “Not at all.”

  Back in her room, Meredith opened the neatly wrapped package. Inside were several yellowed and fragile envelopes carefully addressed to Mrs. Samuel Martin, but one letter was addressed to Miss Mary Galbraith at Stanton College. Curious, she opened it first.

  Mrs. Julia Nutt

  Longwood

  Dear Mary,

  I enjoyed taking you on a tour of my house. You asked me how I could be so cheerful after all I’d been through, how I could be satisfied with what I had left after all the tragedies. I was miserable at the time. At times I gathered wild weeds and fed my children on them. We often went to bed hungry or lived on sour milk. My youngest was still a baby and my oldest only sixteen. I lashed out at God and the US government. I blamed them for my husband’s death. I treated everyone, even those closest to me with anger and bitterness.

  But just a few years ago, I changed. First, I thought how Jesus had suffered so much, worse things than I had, on that cross, and yet He said, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” Also, two other scriptures helped me, one about not letting bitterness take root, and one about being at peace with everyone. I understood that I had to forgive everyone who had hurt me.

  So I made a list and put down what each one had done to me. Then I prayed and asked God to help me forgive. I didn’t feel forgiving, but I said the words and burned the paper. When my bitterness left, I felt guilty for what I had done to hurt others even before all the tragedies. For the first time, I really understood that I needed God’s forgiveness and the gift of salvation from sin that Jesus offers through His death on the cross.

  Now you can understand why I can be content in my circumstances.

  Come see me, my dear. You would be very welcome.

  Sincerely,

  Julia Nutt

  Meredith laid the yellowed letters with their spidery script gently down on the desk. She knew what God was saying to her through these letters. She picked up her Bible and looked in the concordance. She found the verses in Hebrews 12. “Make every effort to live in peace with everyone and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one falls short of the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many.”

  She had let a bitter root grow up, and now she had trouble in all her relationships. Could she follow Mrs. Nutt’s example? She took a piece of paper and listed all the hurts and pain she’d experienced. The list became very long:

  I forgive the kids for calling me “trailer trash.”

  Bobbi Lee for not inviting me to her birthday party.

  My parents for sending me to that school and dying and leaving me.

  God for taking them, for putting me in a trailer instead of a house.

  Gary Bishop…

  She started to write, for humiliating me by inviting me to the banquet, but she knew the truth went deeper than that.

  Gary for not loving me when I loved him so much, and for breaking my heart.

  Just writing the truth down made her feel better. “Dear God, I need help to forgive all these hurts. I know that I can’t have peace until I let go of my pain and let You have it, just as You took my sins on Yourself.”

  As she prayed, Meredith saw something she couldn’t see before—that she was the prejudiced one. She had put everyone into classes and assumed, in some kind of backward pride, that her class was superior because all other classes discriminated against hers. But she had hated those other classes without really knowing anything about them. “We’re all the same in Your eyes, aren’t we? I’m no better than Bobbi Lee or Julia Nutt or Gary Bishop or anyone else. We all are sinners in need of Your grace. Please forgive me.”

  A feeling of such freedom came over her that she wanted to sing and dance in praise to God. She didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. She could live to please God.

  Chapter 5

  The next morning during her prayer time, Meredith asked God for help to face the garden club meeting. “How like You, to give me this kind of challenge so soon after the blessing of forgiving. I’m trusting You to be with me and to keep me in perfect peace.”

  She tried on different outfits, rejecting most as too casual or too formal. At last, the look of a green wool dress with matching cashmere sweater struck the right note with her. Pumps and a pearl necklace completed her ensemble. The pearls recalled her to last Christmas—she’d had no one else to exchange gifts with, so she bought the pearls for herself.

  Tuesday at two she found herself on the Stanton Hall porch, a little nervous but comforted by Mrs. Bishop’s reassuring smile. The main hall inside ran all the way through the house, with massive oil paintings and chandeliers throughout. Mrs. Bishop led her into the main parlor where several women already gathered.

  “This is my friend, Meredith Long. She graduated with Gary,” Mrs. Bishop said.

  “Very nice to meet you, Meredith.”

  Meredith moved from woman to woman, murmuring greetings and smiling. To her surprise, she didn’t feel at all intimidated by these women she had always seen as royalty. Instead, she saw normal people—grandmothers and wives, neighbors and friends—enjoying this break in their lives and some time to be with each other. In some eyes she saw pain, in others contentment, in some insecurity. God had changed her eyes to be like His, to see with compassion. What they thought of her didn’t matter, only what God wanted to do in their lives through her. She wanted to share her elation with someone. Gary came to mind. Perhaps during the tour, she could tell him what God had done for her.

  Mrs. Bishop found two seats together. The president went through the minutes and reports. The business related to the Christmas open houses and the regular house tours made Meredith see how much the garden clubs had helped the local economy.

  Finally, the meeting’s main business ended. “Before we have refreshments and some committees meet, I want to introduce any guests we have today.”

  Mrs. Bishop started to stand, but before she could, a voice behind them called out. “Meredith Long is here. I don’t know if you remember her parents. Her father worked as a mechanic at Gus Rain’s garage. They lived in a trailer off the Jackson road.”

  Meredith recognized Bobbi Lee Cox’s voice. She trembled as she waited to see what would happen. Would they throw her out as an imposter?

  Mrs. Bishop rose. “Meredith Long is my guest. She graduated from the University of Kansas. She’s written several bestselling books that many of you have read and enjoyed as I have. The really good news is her plan to write a series set in Natchez, based around our pilgrimage homes. We should be very grateful for the wonderful publicity that will bring to our city.”

  Spontaneous applause burst out followed by excited chattering, until the president intervened. “Ladies, ladies, your attention please. What marvelous news. Miss Long, it is such an honor to have you here today. If we can do anything to help you with your research, please let me know. I’ll be happy to personally arrange for it.”

  Meredith stood then, a little shaky, but elated. “Thank you so much for your gracious welcome. May I say that I have been impressed by the way you have unselfishly given of your homes, time, and work to improve the lives of everyone in Natchez. God bless you.”

  She sat down to more applause. The meeting dismissed, and she found herself surround
ed by women, all chattering at once.

  “I loved Lucy in Prairie Firebrand.”

  “I’ve read all your books.”

  “When is the next one coming out?”

  “How long will you be here?”

  “I’m so glad you’re doing a Natchez series.”

  “Could you do a book signing here? We could arrange one in the library.”

  “Can I have a card with your contact information?”

  “I’d love to have signed copies to give for Christmas presents.”

  Meredith fielded all these comments and questions as best she could. At last, Mrs. Bishop led her across the hall to the dining room, where plates of apple pie with candied pecans waited and a large urn dispensed fragrant spiced tea into delicate china cups.

  Meredith picked up her dish and cup. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with Bobbi Lee. “I love your outfit, Bobbi Lee.”

  “Thanks. I always dress conservatively for garden club meetings.” Bobbi Lee smoothed the pleated skirt of her tweed designer suit.

  Meredith recognized the expression on Bobbi Lee’s face, defensive and embarrassed. She tried to set her at ease. “Are you involved in the Christmas activities for the club?”

  “Not really. I don’t have time to lead tours or any of that. I’m a member because my grandmother is a charter member. She opens her house during the spring pilgrimage, you know.”

  “I didn’t know. That’s a lot of work for her. Do you help her?”

  “My mother does, but I usually have things to do with the pageant. You know I was pilgrimage queen a few years ago.”

  “Congratulations. I’m sure you made a beautiful queen.” Meredith did know this, because she had searched Gary’s name on the Internet and found that he was king the same year. The picture of Gary and Bobbi Lee together as king and queen epitomized all that shut her out in Natchez society.

  “I’ve never read your books. I don’t like historical fiction.”