by Rachel Hauck
“Have her mingling among our friends, family, and royal guests?”
“If we want to prove she’s not queen material, then yes, showcase her against our cultural elite, Mother.”
Mother? He only called her Mother when he was dead serious. “All right, then, you must promise to pick up the debris.”
“Done.” He crossed his heart and kissed her good night. “I’ll speak with Jon tomorrow and make arrangements for Susanna’s travel and motor.”
“You think this plan will work?”
“One way or the other.”
Exactly what she feared. One way or the other. Nathaniel was not one to be trifled with. He cared deeply for truth and justice. It’s what made him a good king. But a horrible one to manipulate. This plan could go against them as easily as for them.
The clock struck one. Campbell turned off the music, the gas lighting the fireplace, and the Christmas lights, and headed to bed, weary with the process of devising a plan to expose her son’s heart.
“Mama, I’m going on break.” Susanna tugged off her apron and wadded it up for the laundry hamper. Mama hated when she wore more than one apron per shift, but Catfish had tripped and sloshed barbecue sauce all over this one.
Heading out to the deck, Susanna snatched the newspaper from her locker. Aunt Rue was getting restless. Some of the gilt was coming off her Southern, overly sweet bloom.
How’s that house hunting going, Susanna?
Aunt Rue had a bit of Aunt Shrew in her, leaving the classifieds on Susanna’s pillow at night. This morning she insisted she must have her whole house to herself as soon as possible so she could have it painted, recarpeted, and Susanna’s room fumigated by Christmas.
Okay, she didn’t say fumigated, but she might as well have by the way she wrinkled her nose.
The way Susanna saw it, she had three choices.
Go for a cheap rental. One that a barbecue back-of-house manager could afford.
Move home. Shudder.
Buy a tent and pitch it next to Aurora’s.
So far, she leaned toward the tent. Might be kind of freeing.
Choosing a table in the corner by the stage, Susanna popped open the paper but stared toward the beach instead of reading.
Sometimes when she had a free morning or evening, she would ride her bike to Christ Church, where she would park in the grass and stretch herself out over the blades to pray. She tried not to pick the same spot where she’d talked and prayed with Nate, but she did. Every time. Because God spoke to her there.
Apart from me, you can do nothing.
So there she was back to the “I got nothing” and “you can have all of me” prayer. What little remained of herself, her plans, her life. Maybe that was the point.
Out on the deck, she pulled her Sharpie from her hip pocket and scribbled “John 15” on the edge of the newspaper. She’d been reading the chapter before bed the last few nights. Much better reading than the For Rent classifieds. Sorry, Aunt Rue.
Beneath John 15 she wrote “abide, Jesus, fruit.” She saw the message in the red words. She just wasn’t clear on how to execute.
Begin with nothing? Check.
A December breeze skirted in from the ocean, cooling Susanna’s kitchen-warmed skin. She capped her pen and hunched over the For Rent ads.
“Find anything?” The screen door slammed, and Mama stepped onto the deck, wiping her hands on a clean white dish towel.
“Looks like the same ads as yesterday.” Susanna scanned the columns. “I might be living in my car.” Car dwelling was an option. But down a ways on the list. Before living with Gracie but after camping with Aurora.
“Gracious girl, you are stubborn.” Mama’s sigh came from her heart. “Just come on home and live with your daddy, Avery, and me.”
“Haven’t I been humiliated enough this year?” She gazed up at Mama. “I’m already back working at the Shack. Moving home would seal the deal.” She made a mock crowd cheer. “And the winner of Loser of the Year goes to—”
“Oh for crying out loud. You’re so dramatic.” Mama fluffed the dish towel, folding and unfolding it. “Lots of kids live at home with their parents.”
“I’m not like other kids. I don’t want to be a kid living at home. Shoot, you and Daddy married, divorced, and remarried by the time you were my age.”
“I reckon you got a point.” Mama sat on the bench next to Susanna. “I knew you were your own girl the moment you pushed your way into this world. Didn’t make a peep. Just looked up at me with those big eyes like it was about time I let you out to see what was going on.”
Susanna smiled. “How do you even remember that?” She tapped the paper with her pen. Lately, it seemed every conversation with Mama pierced her heart.
“I remember everything about you, baby girl.” Mama sniffed and looked the other way. “Probably hard for you to believe, seeing how you came up, but I got a mental picture book of you that I glance through every day. You were the prettiest, sweetest thing. Everybody, and I do mean everybody, stopped me when I took you to the market or church, what have you. ‘She’s so beautiful,’ they’d say. I had to start leaving you at home or my mama’s if I wanted to get errands done quick. You had big blue eyes that watched everything as if you knew exactly what was going on. Rosy cheeks, cute bow lips, and perfect skin. And a mop of the thickest blond hair. I was nineteen and had my own real life baby doll.” Mama dabbed her eyes with the dish towel. “Darn onions, still have my eyes leaking.”
Susanna gave her a rapid kiss on her cheek. Okay, so they loved each other but were too proud, or too chicken, to look each other in the eye and say it.
“You know it’s okay that you don’t have a plan, Susanna. Sometimes it’s good to let life just come and find you.”
“Mama, you just described my worst nightmare.” Susanna cut her a sideways glance and folded up the newspaper. “But at this point, I don’t have much choice. At least I’m here with friends and family.”
“What do you hear from ol’ Nate?”
“Nothing. As it should be. He’s got a life in Brighton.” She stared ahead through the trees. She’d not confessed it out loud, but she’d googled him a few days ago. Just to see how he was faring.
She learned he was to be crowned on January 3 King Nathaniel II of the House of Stratton, Regent of the Brighton Kingdom, Archduke of the Grand Duchy Hessenberg—until and if they worked out an heir to the entail—and head of state and a constitutional monarchy.
Among his duties and allegiances was to be the Defender of the Faith. She liked that title the best. Defender of the Faith. Something the world needed now. A light in the midst of darkness.
She also discovered images of Lady Genevieve, whose beauty and poise were compared to Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge. Pretty Ginny, the press called her and urged the king to marry her.
“Susanna, are you hearing me?” Mama tapped Susanna’s arm.
“Ummm … yes, ‘Something will turn up.’”
Mama laughed. “Yes, something will turn up. Maybe you should go visit Nate, see what’s going on over in Brighton. Aren’t they famous for their Christmas gardens and shops, all lit up with old-fashioned carolers walking the streets, singing and what all?”
“Mama, I’m not going to see Nate.” Never. Ever. She couldn’t risk her heart. Besides, did one just walk up to the palace and ring the bell? Is Nate home? “I have better things to do with my money. Like buy a tent.” Susanna hopped up from the table. “Time for dinner prep?”
“A tent. Susanna Jean, you are not living in a tent.” Mama pressed her back down to the bench seat. “Sit a spell. I’ll send out some dinner for you.”
“Th–thanks, Mama.”
The kitchen door clapped. Then a sound and a flash beyond the deck caught Susanna’s attention. Pine needles and fall leaves crunched under invisible footsteps. Rising up, Susanna studied the space between the pines.
Sometimes diners came up to the Rib Shack from the beach side, but she co
uldn’t see anyone. Heard no voices. Then she caught the tip of a bleach-blond head.
“Aurora?”
“You saw me.” She popped out from behind a thick pine.
“Your hair … gave you away.” Oh, to be as free as Aurora. “Are you playing hide-and-seek?”
“Watching. How are you?”
“Fair to middling.” She held up the folded newspaper. “Do you have any room in your tent for a guest? I might need to bunk with you.”
Aurora came from around the tree wearing a pair of khaki crops, a lime-green top, red Keds, and what appeared to be a pink cashmere sweater. “Small, small faith.” She jabbed the air with her finger. “You’re going to a palace.”
“A palace?” So, this was an incoherent hour for Aurora. Though Susanna never counted out the supernatural—those moments when Aurora tapped into the unseen. She might seem a bit whacky-doodle, but seeing an angel or demon from time to time might do that to a girl. “I can’t even afford a studio apartment.”
“Small, small faith.” Aurora hovered close to the deck, shivering when the wind blew.
“Come on up. Are you cold?”
The woman didn’t move. “He’s your prince.”
“Who’s my prince?” Susanna’s pulse pushed a bit faster. “What are you talking about?” How could she know about Nate? Did she hear things when she rode her bike around the island and hid out in the woods?
Did she peek over the low stone wall and between the palmettos when Susanna landscaped the cottage garden?
“Don’t forget the shoes.”
“Shoes?” Susanna came down the steps and joined Aurora on the path. A reddish twilight flickered across the last blue hue of the December day, turning the sky a rich shade of purple. “Your shoes? My shoes?”
Aurora’s hair needed a good comb, but it was clean and healthy, minus the nearly transparent shade of blond she chose.
“The shoes, Susanna. Remember to put on the shoes. I can’t say it enough. Put on the shoes.”
“What shoes?” Susanna flipped through her past conversations with the homeless ex-political savant. She couldn’t remember any talk of shoes other than the July morning outside Gage’s office.
“Shoes of peace. Shoes of joy. Shoes of …” Aurora spun around, flinging her arms wide, laughing, leaving a set of Keds treads in the sand.
“Aurora?” Mama returned to the porch. “Want some dinner?” She set Susanna’s plate and a tall tumbler of tea on the table.
Aurora’s expression softened and the intensity in her eyes faded. “That’d be fine, Glo. Can I have it to go? And some extra Gib rolls?” She wrinkled her nose at Susanna and stepped up to the deck. “I nuke them at the 7-11. Drives the cashiers crazy ‘cause all the customers want to know what’s cooking so they can buy some too.”
“Gib will love hearing that, girl. Come on in, get your own tea while I prep your take-out. You want chicken or pork?”
“Beef.” Aurora winked at Susanna as she passed by. “He’s in control.”
“Who? This prince you speak of or the Lord?”
“The Lord, of course. The prince is as muddled as you. Best remember you let go, told the Lord you was all for him. It’ll work out all right.”
A fiery fear shot down Susanna’s spine. “How did you know that, Aurora?”
The woman closed her eyes and breathed deep. “I love me the smell of Georgia barbecue. There was a place up on K Street in DC”—Susanna suddenly faced a poised, whip-smart DC lobbyist—“that just made my mouth water every time I drove past. But I was all worried about being a size two back then. Never realized giving it all up would keep me at a lovely size six without any effort. Oh, but that barbecue wasn’t nearly as good as your dad makes.”
Susanna squeezed her friend’s hand. It was cold and clammy, shivering. “Go on inside, get warm. Do you have enough blankets in your tent? I hear the temps are dropping tonight.”
Not enough for snow, hallelujah, but down to the 50s.
“With some extra to share. I’m snug as a bug in a rug.”
When Aurora went inside with her clichés, Susanna sat up to her dinner. She’d just taken a good bite of her chicken when Aurora came back out with her Rib Shack take-out and an extra brown bag of Daddy’s rolls.
“See ya, Suz.”
“‘Night, Aurora.”
Aurora cut across the lawn toward a stand of pines. Susanna doctored her baked potato, and when she looked up again, Aurora had disappeared.
Eerie, that woman. But intriguing. Susanna loved her. She took a swig of tea as Avery burst through the door with wild blue eyes and rushed at Susanna.
“Watch out, Aves. You almost made me spill my tea.” She reached for her napkin and wiped the brownish splash from her hand. “I thought you were going to the movies with Mina.”
She shook her head, gasping for breath, and shoved a thick linen envelope embossed in gold and red at Susanna.
“What is it?” Susanna reached for the envelope, but Avery hugged it to her chest while letting loose high, ear-busting squeals.
Susanna recoiled against the noise. “Avery, stop.”
“We have to go … We have to go.” She bobbed up and down, waving the envelope. “In all my short little life … I never, never, never.”
Susanna made a face. Let’s see. It wasn’t homecoming or prom. In a week school would let out for Christmas, so there were parties to attend, but why did she think Susanna had to go?
“Suz, we’re getting busy.” Mama appeared in the doorway. “Hate to pull you from your dinner, but Christmas shoppers came early. Avery Mae, I thought you were going to the movies.”
She released the same ear-busting squeal. “Mama, please, please, please let me go. Please … pul-lease … I’ll clean the house, your car, do your laundry and ironing?”
“You hate ironing.”
“—for the rest of your life.”
“What about to infinity and beyond?” Susanna asked, grinning, taking up her plate and heading inside, grateful this teen episode was for Mama.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Avery said. “To infinity and beyond. So, please, can I go?”
“Go where? Out with it. I got a restaurant to run. What’s this all about? By the way, how was Daddy? Was he resting?”
“Yes, he’s fine. Suz, wait, you can’t go in yet.” Avery intercepted her at the door, offering her the envelope with both hands. “Please … Susanna … please. If you love me at all … say yes.”
Mama took Susanna’s dishes and set them just inside the door. “Avery, did you open Susanna’s mail?”
“I couldn’t help it.” She jumped. Jiggled. Jerked. “Look at the envelope flap. Oh, how did I not recognize him?” She conked her forehead with the heel of her hand then pointed at Mama. “You had him scrubbing grease traps with a toothbrush and Cloroxing toilets.” Avery guffawed, slapping her knee.
“Hush, girl, are you talking about Nate?”
Susanna stared at the back flap, her lungs collapsing, shaken by a cocktail of nerves and anticipation. Pressed into the envelope’s linen threads was a royal cipher—N II R—in a rich ruby red.
Avery soiled it by tapping the envelope with her finger.
“Nathaniel II Regent.”
“Avery.” Susanna slapped away her finger. “Hush up now. Give me a minute. Please.” Aurora’s voice echoed in her head. You’re going to a palace.
“Are you telling me our Nate, my dishwasher Nate, is a prince?”
“One and the same. Mama, he’s the new king of Brighton. He left here like a shot because his father died.”
“Susanna, you never said a word.”
“I barely found out myself. I didn’t think I’d ever hear from him again.” Based on their last conversation on the beach.
“Open it, Suz.”
Susanna gingerly opened the envelope. Her hand trembled as she removed the thick card inside.
On Behalf of Her Majesty the Queen,
The Prime Minister and Parliament of
Brighton,
The Lord Chamberlain
Cordially Invites You to Attend
The Coronation and Celebration of His Royal Highness
Crown Prince Nathaniel Henry Kenneth Mark Stratton
Of the House of Stratton, Kingdom of Brighton
December 26th–January 3rd
RSVP
Oh my … Her heart beat wild and loud in her ears.
“Mama, if you let me go you won’t have to buy me another present for Christmas or my birthday ever again.”
“Would you stop all that forever talk?” Mama read over Susanna’s shoulder, then exhaled hot and heavy against her skin. “Goodness, I don’t know what to say.”
“M–me neither.”
“Say yes, Suz. Yes, we can go.”
“Susanna?” Mama bent to see her face. “You’ve gone pale. I guess you didn’t expect this.”
“No.” Every limb of her body weakened as she shoved the invitation back into the envelope. This didn’t make sense. She’d not heard from him since he left in July. He’d put Jon in charge of approving the garden. She’d assumed he didn’t want to talk to her.
“So, we can go? See, look.” Avery fumbled through the contents of the envelope. “‘Guest.’ That’s me. And here’s one inviting you to stay at the Parrsons House as a guest of the queen.” She clasped her hands together. “Oh my gosh, Suz, who gets an invitation to a coronation? No one! We have to go.”