Dune Drive

by Mariah Stewart

  Father and son embraced, Gordon patting Jared on the back. “I missed you,” Gordon told him.

  “Missed you too, Dad.” Jared returned the back pats, then broke away. “Dad, this is Chrissie Jenkins. She’s Owen Parker’s cousin.”

  “Ah, Owen. What a character he was. I heard he got married. Must have been from you,” he said to Jared before turning to Chrissie. “We’re so glad you joined us for the weekend.” He lowered his voice. “Particularly Delia, who for some reason has a thing about having an uneven number of people seated at a table. I don’t get it myself, but there it is.”

  Chrissie smiled. “We’re all entitled to our little quirks.”

  “You picked the right one to bring with you, Jared. You’ll fit right in, Chrissie. I’m delighted to meet you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Chandler. Same here,” Chrissie said.

  “It’s Gordon. We’re pretty easy here, Now, come meet my bride.” Gordon took her arm and led her away from Jared.

  Chrissie’d spotted Delia the moment they came into the room. She looked exactly like the photos on the back of her books, of which Ruby had a ton.

  “Delia, this is Chrissie Jenkins. She’s a friend of Jared’s,” Gordon told the elegant, dark-haired woman in the emerald-green silk shirt and matching pants.

  “Oh, the woman who’s evening out my tables. I’m indebted to you. Thanks so much for agreeing to come out to the wilds of Pennsylvania with that rascal soon-to-be son of mine.” Delia greeted Chrissie with a hug.

  “I’m so happy to meet you. My great-grandmother is a huge fan of yours. I think you’ve met her a few times in St. Dennis.”

  Delia tilted her head, perhaps trying to place someone named Jenkins in St. Dennis.

  “Ruby Carter,” Chrissie told her.

  “Oh my, yes.” Delia smiled. “I adore that woman. So wise. Always has the most interesting stories. She and my dear friend Grace Sinclair are very close. When I think of St. Dennis, I think of the two of them. Of course, Ruby doesn’t actually live in St. Dennis. She’s on that island . . .”

  “Cannonball Island, yes.”

  “I keep meaning to go there. I’ve heard so much. Now, did I read an article recently about a developer buying up old historic homes and building new ones with some of the original details?”

  “Yes. My cousin Owen’s wife is the architect.”

  “I want to hear more about it. Oh, there’s my daughter Georgia. Come, you must meet her . . .” Delia took Chrissie by the arm.

  Over the next half hour, Chrissie met so many people her head was spinning. Delia’s son, Nick, his wife, India, their children. India’s aunt August, who had a fondness for tossing out Latin phrases. Georgia and Matt, her husband, their kids, and Jared’s sister, Rachel, whose husband had yet to arrive.

  Chrissie tried to memorize one thing about each person that might help her to remember their name and relationship to either the bride or the groom. After a while, she all but gave up.

  Jared had rescued her by bringing her a glass of wine.

  “How’re you doing?” he asked.

  “I have no idea,” she told him. “I thought you said this was going to be a very small affair. Just family.”

  “This is just family.”

  “I doubt I’ll be able to keep everyone straight. Zoey, I’ll remember. Georgia’s the one with the long straight blond hair, and Rachel is the only one in the group with auburn hair, so she’s easy.”

  “Plus she doesn’t look like any of the Enrights,” Jared said.

  “That’s also true, but it’s the color of the hair that I’m committing to memory.”

  “And the guys?”

  “I’m totally lost where they’re concerned. The only one who stands out is Ben, and that’s only because he limps.”

  “Old racing injury. Broke his leg in a couple of places,” Jared explained. “By the end of the weekend, you’ll know who everyone is. They’re all very friendly, very down to earth, and you’ll like them all. Trust me. I was a bit intimidated when I first met Delia’s kids, but they’re a great bunch and a lot of fun. You’ll see.”

  Someone announced that Laura and Ally had just arrived and that set off another round of introductions.

  “I’m not sure how she fits in,” Chrissie whispered.

  “Delia’s daughter and her daughter Ally.”

  “Oh. I thought she only had the two daughters. So she’s Georgia and Zoey’s sister.”

  “Half sister,” he said. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.”

  “Okay.”

  Dinner was announced and everyone was ushered into the dining room, where a caterer’s staff awaited to serve them. The meal was marked by lots of chatter and side conversations, an argument between Nick and Zoey over who got to use the kayaks first thing in the morning, and the occasional crying child, who was then tended to by a number of relatives. Chrissie had a headache by the time they’d finished eating and gone into the living room for dessert and coffee.

  “You’re doing great,” Jared told her.

  “My head is splitting open and my brains are spilling out all over this magnificent Oriental rug,” she confided. “I’m not used to so many people.”

  “Do you have anything to take for it?” he asked.

  “I do. I’ll be right back.” Chrissie excused herself and went back into the sunroom, where she’d left her bag. She found a container of Advil and grabbed a bottle of water from the bar, which was still set up, then tossed back the tablets.

  “We’ve given you a headache, eh?” a voice said from the doorway.

  Chrissie turned around, ready to deny it’d been the company.

  “Oh, Rachel. No, it’s—”

  “I felt the same way when Dad first introduced me to Delia and her kids and their spouses and their kids. It’s a lot to take in at one time.”

  “Everyone seems so nice, but . . .” Chrissie said.

  “Everyone is nice. There’s not a mean bone in any one of those bodies. But that’s not the point. They’re just overwhelming. They all talk at the same time and their conversations are hard to follow because one person will speak and someone else will finish their sentence and then take it in an entirely new direction.” Rachel laughed. “Believe me, I get it.”

  “I didn’t want to appear rude by walking out, but yeah, overwhelming.”

  “How ’bout if the two of us sneak outside for a few minutes, get some fresh air to help clear our heads?” Rachel suggested.

  “I like it.” Chrissie followed Rachel to the French doors at the end of the room.

  “The view out here is lovely at any time of the day,” Rachel said as she opened the doors onto a stone patio. “But I like it best right around dusk, while the horses are still out in the pasture and the birds are just starting to hunker down in their nests.”

  “It’s so peaceful.” Chrissie stepped outside behind Rachel and closed the door, then took a deep breath. “The air smells so good here. So clean. Different from the bay. Not,” she hastened to add, “that the bay doesn’t smell clean. It’s just different. Salty in some parts, marshy in another.”

  “That’s right. You’re from the Chesapeake Bay, that place where Jared’s working,” Rachel said. “How’d you meet my brother?”

  “My cousin Owen works for him. They’ve been on dives together in the past.” Chrissie took a sip from the water bottle she’d brought out with her. “Jared said you’re a diver, too, and that you work for the family business. Is that what you always wanted to do?”

  Rachel nodded. “I was so jealous every time Dad took Jared with him on salvage operations and left me home. They’d come back with wonderful stories of the places they’d been to and the ships they dove on, and the things they found. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to do what they did. How ’bout you, do you dive?”

  “Not on your life. I don’t want to go under the water and I don’t want to meet up with whatever’s down there.”

  “Hey, if you�
�re going to be with my brother, sooner or later you’re going to dive. He’s going to want to share that part of his life with you.”

  “Jared and I are not going to ‘be together.’ He’s not going to share his life with me, and I’m not sharing mine with him, not the way you mean. Neither of us has any interest in ‘being together.’ We’re just friends.”

  “Really? Because he looks at you differently than I’ve seen him look at women in the past.”

  Chrissie shrugged. “Maybe because I don’t expect anything of him.”

  Rachel stared at her, finally saying, “I guess we’ll have to see how it plays out.”

  “Rachel, there’s nothing to play out.”

  “If you say so. Oh look. The sun’s starting to set.” Rachel pointed to the pasture. “I should go get my husband. I left him with the boys and they’re probably ready to run around a bit. Coming in?”

  “In a few. You go ahead.”

  “Great talking to you. We’ll catch up again later this weekend, I’m sure.”

  Rachel went inside but Chrissie remained on the patio. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d told Rachel she’d felt overwhelmed. Large families and their interactions were a mystery to her. She heard a sound behind her and seconds later, Jared was there.

  “Rachel said she’d left you out here. You okay? How’s the headache?”

  “Better. I just needed to retreat for a few minutes.”

  “Look at that sunset.” Jared pointed out across the pasture. “If I lived in a place like this, I’d be out here every single day at this time just to see that. I bet it never gets old.”

  They watched as the sky turned tropical colors and the clouds took on elongated shapes. When the sun had disappeared behind them, Jared said, “I think we’re getting ready to propose some toasts to the happy couple. I’m expected to give one, so . . .”

  “Of course. Let’s go in. I wouldn’t want to miss it.”

  The toasts lasted for almost a full half hour because everyone wanted to express their good wishes. Some were funny, some were poignant, but everyone spoke from their hearts. There was music and lots of socializing and Chrissie found that taken one on one, the Enrights were every bit as delightful as she’d been told to expect. The only uneasy moment came when it was time to turn in for the night. Somehow someone had gotten the idea that Chrissie and Jared were sharing a room, but he handled that diplomatically so their rooms were next to each other.

  Chrissie lay in bed, the windows open, listening to the owls in the tall pines outside her window. Other than the occasional breeze brushing through the branches, the night was very quiet and dark, touched by the very faintest scent of pine. It was peaceful, and it didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.

  Morning brought breakfast in what Delia called the morning room, which was between the dining room and the kitchen. It had windows on three sides and a fireplace, and an old farm table that had two benches on one side and chairs on the other. Chrissie sat at the end of one of the benches, someone’s two-year-old on her lap. She shared her pancakes and fed eggs to Charlotte, the little girl, who turned out to belong to Georgia, and who, once fed, jumped off Chrissie’s lap and took off for the yard.

  “So what’s on tap today?” Jared asked when he came into breakfast several minutes after Chrissie.

  “Today’s whatever you make it, bud.” Nick poured syrup on his daughter’s waffles. “There’s lots to do around here, depending on your mood.”

  “I’m up for a row on the Brandywine,” Ben said as he joined them. “Nick, you in?”

  “Of course. Just like old times,” Nick said.

  “Nick and Ben grew up together,” Delia explained to Chrissie. “They think I never caught on to any of their mischief, but they’re mistaken.”

  “How ’bout we see some of the sights I’m always hearing about?” Jared nudged Chrissie.

  “I’m up for anything,” she replied.

  “There’s the Brandywine Battlefield, where Washington’s troops were defeated by the British. That’s not far from here.”

  “Longwood Gardens,” Zoey told Chrissie. “It used to belong to one of the Du Ponts, now it’s this glorious garden bonanza that’s open to the public. Acres and acres of beautiousness.”

  “Dad, is beautiousness a word?” Georgia’s six-year-old son, Zach, asked.

  “I just said it, didn’t I?” Zoey tried to stare down her nephew from the other side of the table.

  “You could have made it up,” Zach said. “You make up words all the time. Mom said so.”

  “Oh, did she now?” Zoey narrowed her eyes and tried to pin her sister down with a glare.

  “Are you finished?” Jared asked Chrissie, who nodded. “Let’s go.”

  They left amid the sisters volleying words back and forth. There was a burst of laughter as Jared opened the front door and he and Chrissie stepped out into a perfect early June morning. It was a morning full of sunshine and the fragrance of the flowers that seemed to bloom everywhere Chrissie looked.

  “Any preference as to where we go or what we do?” Jared asked.

  Chrissie shook her head. “How ’bout you?”

  “I think I’d like to stop at that battlefield.” He took his phone from his pocket. “And the gardens Zoey talked about—Longwood—is right down the road. And a little farther down Route 1 is the Brandywine River Museum. Heavy on the Wyeth paintings.”

  “That sound perfect. Let’s do it.”

  The Brandywine Battlefield park was a series of rolling green hills right off the main highway, Route 1. For all its proximity to traffic, it was surprisingly quiet once they walked out onto the field where the bloody conflict had taken place. It was almost eerily quiet, with only the sound of the wind blowing across the hills and through the trees, and Chrissie said so.

  “I know. It’s almost as if you can hear the voices of the dead in the breeze coming down through those sycamores.” Jared read from his phone. “ ‘The battle was also known as the Battle of Brandywine Creek.September 11, 1777. General George Washington for the patriots, General William Howe for the British.’ ” He read a bit more to himself. “Oh, Washington didn’t fight Howe here. That was a few miles to the west.” He looked up at Chrissie. “Apparently the battle was fought across the farms and the hills. The British wanted to travel north to take Philadelphia,” he said, resuming reading. “Washington wanted to stop that from happening. Lots of Quaker farmers in the area, homes were confiscated by the Americans before the battle, and by the Brits after they’d won. The Americans retreated to a place called Chester to regroup.” He stopped reading and looked up again. “History is so much more interesting when you walk it, you know? I was a decent enough student, but I never felt involved in it. Walking here, I feel the connection. It’s humbling.”

  They stopped at the visitor center and looked over the exhibits before heading out to see a few historic homes that’d been restored. Chrissie was intrigued to see the houses they visited from the very early 1700s were constructed of the same type of stone as Delia’s fieldstone. They stopped for lunch at a small roadside restaurant, then drove across the road to tour the Brandywine River Museum, which had an entire floor of Jamie Wyeth’s paintings. Since he was a favorite artist of Jared’s, the trip had definitely been worth it, even though they returned to Delia’s tired from all the walking. Chrissie’d hoped to grab a quick nap before dinner, but that had been optimistic on her part. She barely had time to shower before she was expected to be downstairs for the rehearsal for the wedding that would take place the following day in the grand living room.

  Chrissie changed into one of the dresses she’d bought from Vanessa, a pretty medium-shade-of-pink sleeveless sheath with a low square neck. She remembered Cass’s instructions to layer her eye shadow for the rehearsal dinner, and layer it yet again for the wedding. Chrissie applied her makeup and brushed her hair to flow around her shoulders, then left her room to join the group that’d gathered in the foyer for the rehear
sal. When she came down the steps, she could feel Jared’s eyes appraising her, and for the first time, she wondered what it would be like if they’d been more than friends.

  She planted herself at the back of the group where she thought he couldn’t see her.

  Delia’s minister, a woman named Sharon who was in her fifties, was running the show.

  “I need the groom and his best man. Yes, you two. No ushers because there’s no seating, right, Delia?”

  Delia nodded. “The ceremony’s only ten minutes or so long if that. There’s no one here who can’t stand for ten minutes.”

  “Exactly. So you two will stand in front of the fireplace in the living room when I tell you it’s time.” She glanced at the clipboard that she held in one hand. “Okay, it’s time. Go.”

  Gordon and Jared walked into the living room and stood in front of the fireplace.

  “Next up: the bridesmaids. Four of you, correct? Really? Five?” She rolled her eyes. “You walk in next. Stand on the left. Go ahead.”

  Zoey, Georgia, Laura, Rachel, and India went up the imaginary aisle and took their places.

  “Flower girls?” Several small girls were pushed forward by their fathers, their mothers already having made their way into the living room.

  “Seriously, Delia? You need them all?” Sharon asked.

  “My granddaughters, and yes, I need them all,” Delia told her.

  “Alrighty, then. Big girls, take the hands of the little ones. That’s right. Now walk nicely up there to your mommies.”

  The girls did as they were told.

  “No maid of honor?”

  “What’s in a name? The bridesmaids are also my maids of honor,” Delia told her.

  “Then they shouldn’t go ahead of the flower girls.”

  Delia waved a hand for Sharon to get on with it. “The little ones won’t go up the aisle unless their mothers are at the other end.”

  “This isn’t protocol.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “It’s your wedding. So that means that you come in next. Last, I mean. Is someone walking with you?”