A Lowcountry Wedding

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “In any case, once her boss found out about their affair, she fired my mother and divorced your son. Only, by this time my mother was pregnant. She returned to her husband in Atlanta, where they reconciled. He raised me as his own son.”

  “When did Parker find out he had a son?”

  “My mother wrote to tell him before I was born. You should know, he offered to marry her.”

  Marietta’s face was somber. “It was the honorable thing to do.”

  “For a white man to marry a black woman in your society here in Charleston almost thirty years ago, it would have meant a scandal. In New York? It might have brought a few raised brows, but they could have done it. My mother loved your son, and he loved her. But she didn’t want to marry him. She chose to go back to her husband. My real father.”

  Mrs. Muir didn’t respond.

  “Let me be clear. I’m not here in search of a father. Tyrone Green is my father. He’s the only father I’ve ever known or need to know. And he was a good man. A good husband to my mother.”

  “I’ve no doubt. Meeting you is proof enough.”

  “Thank you.” He was relieved that his loyalties were clear. “But they’re both gone now. As are their parents, my grandparents.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  Atticus shook his head. “I’m an only child. I’m alone.”

  Mrs. Muir smiled gently. “Well, you have three sisters now.”

  He took a deep breath, exhaling with wonder at that reality. “Right. Half sisters, anyway.”

  “Blood is blood.” Mrs. Muir brought her hands up and clasped them near her heart. “I have a grandson,” she said with disbelief, feasting her eyes on him.

  Atticus felt emotions long held in check come surging up now. “I didn’t know if you’d be glad to learn about me. If you’d want me.”

  “Oh, dear boy, I’m overwhelmed with joy. I didn’t know you existed. My son’s son.” She put her fingers to her lips. “You are the sole male heir of the Muir family.”

  Atticus put up his hands, suddenly feeling a little trapped. “Whoa . . . I didn’t come to interfere. The Muir granddaughters might not appreciate that. Laws of primogeniture notwithstanding, I didn’t come here to be one of the Muir clan.”

  “But you are here, Atticus. And you are a Muir.”

  When she put it like that, it made his arguments sound trivial. He looked at his hands. He didn’t want to expose the fragility of his emotions. Having a family meant more to him than he’d realized. He had been feeling lonely since his mother’s death, a man adrift without a family to anchor him. Now this woman, his grandmother, was including him in his new family, and it was a gift, as welcome as it was daunting. How did he feel about embracing this family as his own? That was not clear yet.

  “You’re curious about us,” Mrs. Muir continued.

  “That’s why I came. It’s only natural that I’d want to know my genetic history. My health records.”

  “And you’ll have them. Do you have children?”

  “No. I’m not married.”

  She leaned back, surprised. “A handsome man like you? Goodness, in that respect you’re not at all like Parker.”

  Atticus looked at her with surprise, then saw that she was laughing. Parker had married three times and had three children, one with each wife. He sounded like a womanizer. That she could make a joke of it showed character, and he liked her all the more.

  “You’ll want to meet your sisters, no doubt.”

  Atticus blew out a stream of air and leaned back against the sofa. “Honestly? I don’t know. They might not be thrilled to meet me.”

  “Why ever not?”

  “This is all happening so fast. I hadn’t meant to tell anyone about my family connection today. Not even you.”

  She lifted a brow speculatively. “So this was a scouting mission?”

  He half smiled as one caught in his game. “Exactly.”

  “But then I recognized you and ruined your plan.”

  His grin widened. “I didn’t expect that.” He was aware she was watching him with a thoughtful, appraising expression.

  “I think you should meet your sisters. Why waste any more time on doubts? You’ll like them.”

  “Are they anything like you?”

  Marietta laughed shortly and said, surprised, “Why, I should think they are. I hope I’m like them.”

  “Then I know I’ll like them.”

  She lowered her chin coquettishly. Atticus thought she must have been quite something in her heyday.

  “How will they react to a surprise brother? Even a half brother?”

  “It’s not a new experience for them.”

  “Not even a black half brother?”

  “That might be a surprise, perhaps. But it won’t matter.”

  Atticus crossed his legs. “It might.”

  “Let’s risk it. What choice do we have?”

  “Mrs. Muir . . .”

  Marietta put her hand up. “Please, that’s much too formal under the circumstances. Call me Mamaw. That’s what the girls call me.”

  He swallowed, touched by the offer, but shook his head. “I’m sorry. It’s a kind offer, but I’m not ready to go that far yet.”

  “Marietta, then?”

  “Marietta,” he conceded.

  “I hope that someday you’ll feel comfortable calling me Mamaw.”

  Atticus accepted the statement with a tilted nod of the head. Mamaw’s breath momentarily caught in her throat as she recognized the gesture as a mannerism of Parker’s. “I hope I will, too.”

  Marietta made a move to rise. “This is going to be such a great surprise for your sisters. You’ll be here to celebrate Harper’s and Carson’s weddings!”

  Atticus put up his hand in an arresting motion. “Hold on a minute, please.”

  Mamaw settled herself back on the sofa and waited, eyes alert.

  “When are the weddings?”

  “They’re coming up right quick. May. Not a double wedding. One on Saturday and one on Sunday with a joint rehearsal dinner on Friday night here at Sea Breeze.”

  He could see the excitement taking hold of her. “With the weddings so close, I don’t think the timing is right to spring this on them. Weddings are a roller coaster of emotions. The last thing they need to deal with now is a brother they knew nothing about. Mrs. Muir . . . Marietta . . . I’m a minister. I deal with the ups and downs of weddings all the time.” He made a face. “Weddings bring out the best and the worst in people. You can’t believe what people say and do—to their own family members—under normal circumstances. I don’t think it’s wise to expose a long-held family secret into the mix. Not now.”

  He could see the older woman was having trouble accepting this possibility. She wanted to pop the champagne and celebrate the return of the lost grandson. Still, his argument wasn’t lost on her.

  Marietta brought her hand slowly to her neck. “I didn’t think of it that way. Perhaps you’re right. This is a delicate time for them.” She rolled her eyes for effect. “And we have a few issues to deal with already.” She sighed, not quite ready to give up the argument. “But you’re here now. It’s a shame to wait.”

  “We must. My mother died only recently, and I only just learned that Parker was my father. That’s a lot to take in. I need time to digest all this.”

  Marietta appeared resigned. “I suppose it would be a lot for all of you to face. At least immediately.”

  “Exactly. I’m still grieving my mother and have to reason why she never told me or sought you out. And . . . I hope you’ll respect that I may, in the end, choose to keep my distance.”

  “I can’t promise that I’ll never let your sisters know.”

  “I understand. I’m only asking you to wait.” He checked his watch. They seemed to have reached an impasse.

  He was about to stand and leave when she turned sharply toward him, her face brightening. “I have an idea!”

  He looked at he
r dubiously. “What’s that?”

  “You said you’re a minister? What kind of minister are you?”

  “Southern Baptist.”

  She pursed her lips in thought. “I’m an Episcopalian. Dora is, too. But Carson and Harper, the brides, aren’t members of any church as far as I can tell. I’m not sure about Harper. Being from England, she might be Anglican, but in any case I can tell you that neither girl has stepped foot in a church since she’s arrived.” Marietta sniffed, which gave away her opinion of that. “I think we can make this work,” she said with confidence.

  “Make what work?” Atticus asked dubiously.

  “What if I introduce you to the girls as an old family friend? We’ll have to come up with some history, but that shouldn’t be too hard. And”—her eyes brightened further—“as a friend, I asked you to officiate at the weddings.”

  Atticus couldn’t speak for a moment. She looked at him with an expression of innocent delight when what she was asking him to do was to get involved in a lie.

  “But it’s not true.”

  “It’s not a lie if you actually are the minister at the weddings. You’ll be able to meet the girls and act as their counselor. It will involve talking to the girls, meeting their fiancés, spending time with them.” Marietta straightened her shoulders and said in utmost seriousness, “Reverend Green, I’m asking you to marry my granddaughters. Will you?”

  “They’re not members of my church.” Atticus was grasping for an excuse.

  “We both know you can get around that for special occasions.”

  “I don’t know. . . . It would mean being involved in a lie.”

  “Say yes to marrying them. Then it’s not a lie. It’s an omission.”

  “Which is also a sin.”

  “We are not deceiving them. We are simply withholding certain information. Temporarily.”

  Atticus looked at her askance. “That’s the definition of a sin of omission.”

  Marietta tossed her hands up in frustration. “Let’s not split hairs, Atticus,” she entreated. “Please don’t be obstinate. You forget how important it is to me to have you be a part of the weddings. You’re my grandson. And I’ve only just met you.”

  He felt the emotion in her words and had to admit, he felt them, too.

  Her voice quivering, she continued softly, “You see, I will need time to fully comprehend all this, too.” He thought she might cry, but she rallied, forcing a gallant smile. “Oh, but you’re here now.”

  Marietta rose, came to his side, and sat beside him. “Dear boy, we must choose a course of action. You started the ball rolling by coming to Sea Breeze and knocking on my door. We cannot turn back from the truth now.” She took his hands. “We must be strong. Together. Either we tell the girls right now who you are and let the chips fall where they may—”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “—or I introduce you as the minister who will preside over their weddings and we give all of you time to get to know each other first. Which will it be?”

  Atticus released his hands and crossed his arms. This was one strong and determined woman, he thought. She reminded him of his mother. He knew that he could—maybe even should—get up and walk out and never see any of them again. She held no authority over him. And yet . . . remembering the warmth of her welcome, the longing in her eyes, his gut instinct was to go along with her plan, at least for the time being. She was his grandmother. That was the unarguable fact. Plus, he felt an odd alliance with this woman, this stranger who was his father’s mother. Did the ties of blood overcome his objections?

  Atticus closed his eyes and prayed for guidance. He didn’t believe in doing the wrong thing for all the right reasons. Yet this didn’t feel like the wrong thing. Or at least, not a bad thing. In truth, he did want to meet his half sisters. Talk to them, get to know them. But he wasn’t ready to declare himself their brother. By agreeing to be their minister, he could get to know them slowly, give them—and himself—time to form opinions without the shock of their father’s infidelity and a surprise brother popping up. Not right before their weddings. When looking at the situation from this light, the plan felt more like a kindness.

  “If I agree,” he said warily, “will you agree to wait until I say I am ready to tell them the truth about being their brother?”

  Marietta’s eyes shone with the light of expectant victory. “I agree.”

  Atticus stared at Marietta as a wry smile crossed his face. “I’m guessing you win a lot.”

  “Me?” she asked innocently. “Why, Atticus, I’m just a li’l old lady.”

  Chapter Eight

  Soon everyone will be in wedding mode. Aka hysteria.

  Mamaw? Are you here?”

  Marietta’s and Atticus’s heads both swung toward the sound of the voice, then toward each other in silent agreement. Atticus felt his insides do a slight flip—he wasn’t sure if he was quite ready to play the role they’d only just created.

  A moment later a woman strolled into the room, an enormous black dog at her heels. Atticus was alert and immediately sized up the dog—was it friendly or a guard dog? But he needn’t have worried. On catching sight of him in the living room, the woman immediately turned and gave the dog the order to stay. To his relief, the gargantuan animal dropped to the floor at the entrance—though not without a sorry whine—and put his head in his paws.

  “Harper!” Marietta exclaimed, and opened her arms.

  So this was his half sister, Atticus thought as he watched her come to her grandmother’s side and place a kiss on Marietta’s upturned cheek.

  “I want you to meet someone,” Marietta said, indicating Atticus.

  As he rose to his feet, Atticus’s stomach tightened under the appraising gaze of this stranger, his half sister. He braced himself for another round of startled recognition of their father, but it didn’t come.

  “This is the Reverend Atticus Green,” Marietta said, delivering a megawatt smile toward him that spoke clearly of her expectations. “Atticus, this is my granddaughter Harper Muir-James. One of the brides-to-be.”

  She stepped closer and suddenly he was looking into eyes the exact color of his own. Hands were extended and he caught a glimpse of an enormous diamond on her slender finger. They murmured greetings in the usual polite manner.

  “Atticus is an old family friend,” Marietta continued. “Very dear.” She turned to Harper. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “I love surprises.” Harper’s eyes sparkled.

  You have no idea, Atticus thought to himself as he rocked on his heels. He looked at Marietta, his eyes pulsing with the message Do not tell her who I am.

  Marietta said, “I wrote to Atticus and asked a favor of him, if he would please come to Charleston to marry you and Carson. And he has agreed! Isn’t that just too wonderful?”

  Harper was momentarily stunned by the unexpected announcement. Then her face lit up with astonishment. “Really?”

  Atticus managed a stiff smile and a nod of his head.

  Marietta, in contrast, was at ease. “You know how we worried about who would officiate. And now we have our answer. Atticus drove all the way here from Atlanta to meet you and Carson.”

  Harper put her hand to her heart. “I’m speechless. I’m so happy! So you’ll really marry us?”

  Atticus swallowed. “Yes.”

  It was done. One word and he’d tied himself to the story that would bind him for the next few months.

  Harper clasped her hands together. “That’s super! Amazing, actually. Mamaw!” Harper turned on her heel to face Marietta. “Why didn’t you tell us you had this card up your sleeve? You clever old girl.”

  “I didn’t want to make the announcement until Atticus agreed.” Marietta cast a searching glance his way.

  A furrow creased Harper’s smooth brow. “I’m not a member of any church. Is that a problem?”

  Atticus shook his head. “No. I’m a Baptist minister, but it shouldn’t be.”

>   Harper sighed. “What a relief. I didn’t want to get married by a justice of the peace. And if you’re a family friend, it makes it all the more special, doesn’t it? I don’t know many people here, you see. I moved here from New York only a year ago. Most of my family is in England.”

  “You’re a Muir, dear,” Mamaw reminded her. “You have family connections here.”

  “But I don’t really know them. Nor they me. Did you talk to Granny James about this?” Harper turned to Atticus. “My grandmother is giving the wedding. Her name is Imogene, but we call her Granny James. She’ll be flying in from England soon, and I can’t imagine she’ll have any objections.”

  Mamaw scoffed, “I should think not. And, no, I didn’t talk to her about it yet. This is my contribution to your wedding. She’s been rather miserly about sharing duties, after all.”

  “Now, Mamaw.” Harper cast an embarrassed glance toward Atticus. Apparently this was a tender subject. “You’re throwing the wedding for Carson. It’s all decided.”

  “Yes, well. There are things I can help with, being here and all. And don’t you have a say? Are you happy with the arrangement?”

  “Very.”

  “Then it’s decided. Atticus will say the service.” Marietta sniffed. “Unless Imogene’s bringing a member of the clergy in tow from England.”

  “She’s not.” Harper laughed lightly. She turned to Atticus. After a brief pause she tilted her head. “How are you a family friend, by the way? Are you a relative of Lucille’s?”

  Atticus was caught unawares. Lucille? Who was Lucille? The first stumble already. Atticus turned to Marietta with a challenging stare.

  “He’s met Lucille, of course,” Marietta jumped in smoothly. “Long before she died.” Marietta stressed that important point to Atticus. “But that’s not the connection. Atticus’s mother, Zora, was a great friend of Parker’s.”

  “My father’s?”

  Atticus prudently kept silent.

  “Yes,” Mamaw replied evenly. “Zora Green is a writer, too.” She lowered her head in respect. “Or was, may she rest in peace. While she was alive, we kept up over the years, Christmas cards and such. Not nearly as much as we should have. But I thought of Atticus when you were searching for a minister and”—Mamaw paused and held out her arms—“here we are!”