“That’s how she got the scars?”
Carson nodded, her face bleak at the memory. “Yeah. Blake flew her to Florida for rehabilitation. He saved her life. Anyway, that explains the scars you saw. Blake and I nearly broke up over it. He was so angry at me. Disappointed. Rightfully so.”
“Is that why you didn’t want him to know about you coming out to see her?”
“No. I wanted to see Delphine again for the first time without Blake watching. I needed to know if I was strong enough to do the right thing.” She laughed harshly. “I didn’t quite make it, did I?”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I think you did.”
“Do you think I broke my word to Blake?”
“That’s between you and Blake. What I think doesn’t matter.”
“Why should I tell him?” She looked away. “What would I gain? I don’t want trouble between us. I know what I have to do now and that I’m strong enough to do it.”
“So why not tell him that?”
She looked at Atticus. “Haven’t you ever kept a small secret to yourself? For the good of someone you loved?”
Atticus blanched and looked out over the water. In keeping his own secret, he felt like a hypocrite. “Many times,” he confessed. “To my mother, mostly. When I was in high school I lied to her whenever I went out drinking with friends and I told her I was out studying. Or the times I told her I didn’t know what happened to missing bottles of alcohol.” He laughed without humor. “Once I replaced her bottle of gin with water. She found out during a party when she served very weak martinis.”
Carson laughed. “You did not.”
“I did.” His smiled faded. “And those were the easy lies. The later ones were harder. More serious. Though at the time I blew them off. Trips to the police station for underage drinking. A few fender benders. My father bailed me out, punished me. We decided to keep the truth from her. For her sake.”
“That was wrong.”
Atticus looked into Carson’s blue eyes and saw the truth in her statement. “Yeah.” He looked down, feeling shame burn his cheeks. “It was. I see that now.” He paused. “Lies are never a good idea. Trust me.” He looked at her. “Trust him.”
Carson listened. She held Atticus’s gaze a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I will.”
After Atticus left, Carson headed back down the dock to collect the boards. As she walked back, from the corner of her eye she saw a movement at Girard Bellows’s house. She stopped short to peer at the house next door. Someone was coming out from the house. No, two people.
She could hear voices now, not loud enough to understand the words. But she recognized one of the voices as Mamaw’s. Carson raced off the dock, set the boards on the ground, and hid behind the wide fans of a sago palm. Stealthily, Carson peered out from her hiding spot and saw Mamaw and Girard walk out on the patio carrying plates and mugs. Mamaw was wearing her blue bathrobe.
Carson let the palm fan go. It snapped back with a noisy rustle. She turned and walked back up the slope to the deck stairs, one foot in front of the other, her mind in a quandary. It was one thing to see a friend—a contemporary—sleeping at her boyfriend’s house. No big deal. But one’s grandmother?
At the door of the kitchen, Carson turned to look out once more toward Girard’s house. The man they used to call Old Man Bellows until Mamaw made them stop. From here on the porch she couldn’t see anything behind the carefully landscaped border of shrubs that was planted just to block the view.
“I guess someone else is keeping a little secret,” she muttered to herself. Then she released a short laugh. She couldn’t wait to tell her sisters.
Chapter Fourteen
I realize you may perceive contractual agreements to be unromantic, but they work as intended. For individuals with wealth, a prenuptial agreement is necessary.
Harper carried a breakfast tray to Granny James’s room. She looked in the hall mirror and caught a glimpse of a young woman in tan linen ankle pants and a matching cotton sweater over which was a pink, ruffled apron. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Outwardly, she appeared to be the same twenty-nine-year-old woman she saw every morning. But Harper knew she wasn’t. A miracle was happening inside her. A new life. Harper realized that she was looking at a soon-to-be mother.
Grinning, she tapped the door with her foot.
“Come in!”
Harper angled herself so her hand could twist the door handle without spilling the tea. Inside, the drapes were closed, leaving the room half-dark. Only the bedside lamp was on, casting a warm circle of light over the French-styled bed on which Granny James sat, supported by many pillows. She wore a floral bed jacket trimmed with lace and tied up with long, slim pink ribbons. Harper recognized the old-fashioned jacket as what her grandmother wore on what she called her “mending days.” Those days she spent entirely in bed to read, sleep, watch television, and generally rest up. In her lap lay a small electronic pad.
Granny James looked up to peer at Harper over her reading glasses. “Goodness, darling. All this fuss over me. How silly! Put that tray down, put your feet up. We could use a good chin-wag.”
Harper, brimming with anticipation for a long overdue catch-up with her grandmother, obligingly placed the tray on Granny’s mattress. After Harper poured tea, they kissed, touching cheeks. Granny looked more rested this morning. Less pale and drawn. She must’ve been awake for some time. Her face was washed and creamed and she smelled of scent. Even her hair was in place.
Harper pulled a velvet-covered lady’s chair from the corner and scooted it closer to the bed. The lovely room had recently been redecorated by Mamaw especially for Dora. Done in the French style, it had wallpaper with broad pink and white stripes, ornate French furniture, and a creamy Aubusson rug that Mamaw had pulled out of storage. The room was delightfully feminine.
“There’s Darjeeling tea steeped in water brought to a roiling boil for five minutes. Crumpets, butter and jam, honey—from my own bees, I might add—and a slice of melon. Nothing fancy, but to your liking I hope.”
“A feast. You’re an angel.” Granny James picked up the cup and sipped. “If I were a cat, I’d purr” was her verdict. “It takes a Brit to know how to make a proper cuppa tea.”
“I’m a lowcountry girl now,” Harper quipped as she reached for the cup she’d brought for herself on the tray, for she enjoyed a sip of the dark brew.
Granny James sipped again, then set her cup on the tray. “You, my dear, have English history in your blood that is traced back farther than the reign of Charlemagne. Your family is in Debrett’s. Speaking of which, look on the bureau. I’ve a gift for you.”
Harper rose and went directly to the charming painted bureau. Lying beside Mamaw’s jewelry case was a wrapped parcel. She lifted it. “This one?”
“Yes. Bring it here.”
Harper did so and settled in the chair once again. Carefully she undid the pretty floral wrapping paper. Inside was a copy of Debrett’s Wedding Guide. Granny James had given her the Debrett’s Handbook, a weighty tome of advice with a beautiful red-and-gold embossed front, as a gift when she graduated from high school.
Harper gasped in excitement. “Oh, it’s perfect. Thank you, Granny. I’ve been reading Mamaw’s Emily Post guide to etiquette—but I know how much this will come in handy,” she hastened to add, not wanting to offend her other grandmother. Harper knew how competitive the two old biddies could be.
As Harper suspected, Granny James’s eyes narrowed and she sniffed haughtily. “That’s all very nice. But Debrett’s is the only wedding guide for British brides. Why, it’s the British etiquette bible! Guiding brides since the eighteenth century. You’ll find you won’t be able to make a decision without it.”
“But we’re having a beach wedding. That’s a far cry from an at-home wedding at Greenfields Park. I should think we must relax the rules and protocol a bit.”
“We might be personalizing the wedding by having it at the beach,” Granny James said ar
chly, “but we will still maintain a proper degree of formality. We’re not having a luau, silly girl. No matter where the wedding is held we must apply the rules properly.”
A thought crossed Harper’s mind. “What does it say in your book about a pregnant bride?”
Granny James’s face softened as she looked at Harper’s belly. “Oh, Harper, I cannot tell you how much this baby means to me. To your family! To think, the James name will continue with this child.”
“The James McClellan name.”
“Will you hyphenate your name?”
Harper shook her head. “No. But he or she will have James as their middle name.”
“Yes, I suppose that is the way of things. I do hope you’ll have more than one. At least one boy. There seems to be a run of girls in the Muir family.”
“And boys in the McClellans.”
At that, Granny James brightened. “I always hoped Georgiana would remarry and have another child.”
“Mummy? Remarry?” Harper was shocked. “She couldn’t bear being married the first time. And that only lasted a few months.”
“Yes, but we got you out of it, didn’t we?”
Harper couldn’t help but smile at that. “I’d like to have a few. Maybe three. Who knows?” Harper sipped her tea, wondering.
“You should. You’ve never looked more beautiful. Pregnancy agrees with you. Your skin is positively glowing. Though I must say, I could have been knocked over by a feather when you told us the news.”
“I was dying to tell you,” Harper said, warming to the topic. “I wanted to get past the first trimester, and with you arriving at the same time, I thought the announcement at the party would be special.”
“Well, it was. As was the announcement of your minister.” At this, Granny James’s tone hardened somewhat. “Atticus Green.”
“But you didn’t have anyone else in mind for the ceremony?”
“No, I didn’t. But it might be a problem that he is . . .” Granny James paused.
“What?” Harper asked testily. “Black?”
Granny James snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t care less what color he is. I was going to say he is a Southern Baptist. You’re in the Anglican Church.”
Harper laughed, relieved. “Oh, that. Don’t worry.” She tapped her baby bump. “We’ll make sure it’s legal.”
“You know”—Imogene picked up a crumpet and lavishly applied butter—“that does bring up a sticky issue. We have to contact our lawyers as soon as possible. You really must have a prenuptial agreement.”
Harper shook her head. “I don’t want one.”
“Come now, Harper, do be practical,” Granny James said impatiently. “There are countless reasons why you must get one. Most prominently, you are much wealthier than Taylor. You have your trust, of course, and that is locked tight. But when I die, you will inherit a significant portion of my estate as well. You and your issue. I shall do what I must to protect you from the grasping hands of family members, including, unfortunately, your own mother. But you must take steps to protect your inheritance in this country. In this state. We mustn’t be emotional. This is business.”
“That’s not how I see it. This is family.”
“Precisely. You are about to be a mother. You must look after your child in your womb.”
“Taylor’s child, too. He’d never do anything to hurt our child.”
“I don’t believe he would, either. And having your financial matters in order will make you both feel much more comfortable and secure as you move forward in your marriage.”
“But isn’t a prenup mean-spirited? And to spring it on him now, after the invitations have already gone out, it seems . . . premeditated.”
“No, I certainly do not think it is either of those things. You are a very wealthy woman, Harper. You must think like one. I realize you may perceive contractual agreements to be unromantic, but they work as intended. We must look not just to our own futures, but the futures of our children. You must consider them. When you inherit, the new trust will be set up to include certain provisions to stop any assets from going to your husband or his new wife should, God forbid, you divorce. Or even your child’s ex in the event of divorce. The prenup simply prevents your inheritance from me from becoming marital property. Believe me, it keeps things simple. In fact, I’d be very surprised if Taylor wasn’t expecting this. He’s a sensible man. After all, the house is already in your name.”
Harper’s face clouded. “Yes. He’s never mentioned it, but I sometimes wonder if that doesn’t bother him. Grate at his pride a bit.”
“It shouldn’t. He knows he couldn’t afford this house on his own. Where else would you live?”
“We could live in a smaller house. Off island.”
“Yes, but that’s not what you wanted, was it? You wanted Sea Breeze.”
Harper couldn’t argue this point. She did want Sea Breeze. Desperately. Not just for herself, but for Mamaw and her sisters.
Granny’s voice grew icy. “You can’t think there was any way under heaven I was going to lend you millions of dollars to buy this house with his name on the deed? You were not even married then. And even if you were, I would not have done it. I made the arrangements for Sea Breeze because of my love for you. No other reason. The stipulations I set up regarding the house protected you, as well as my investment. I’m quite careful with my money, as well you should be.”
Harper felt instantly repentant. “I’m so very grateful for what you did, Granny. You know that. But, I still don’t like the idea of a prenup.” Harper’s chest was constricting and she felt the walls of the room closing in on her. “I trust Taylor. I don’t want to think of my marriage in terms of my money versus his money. It smacks of control. Even superiority. Or worse. It makes me feel like my mother.”
“Because she had a prenup signed? Hers is a perfect example of why you need one!”
“Because it was all a business arrangement in her mind. A means to an end.”
“Come dear, let’s not argue. Bring the topic up with Taylor and see what he says. I feel quite certain you’re worried about nothing. And you can make me out to be the nasty person who is insisting.”
“Well, you are!”
Granny James lifted her shoulders and bit into her crumpet. She dabbed at her mouth daintily with the corners of the linen napkin Harper had brought. “You’ll see I’m right. It’s better to get this tied up quickly. Especially with a baby on the way.”
“It wasn’t planned. It just . . . happened.”
“Yes, dear. I know how these things happen.”
“Are you happy about it?” Harper asked, suddenly concerned. “You can be honest now that we’re alone.”
“Ecstatic.” Granny patted Harper’s hand. “At my age, we don’t want to waste too much time waiting for grandchildren.”
“Great-grandchildren.”
Granny James made a face. “Please, let’s keep that fact between us, shall we?” She smoothed the napkin with her fingertips. “Are you going to tell your mother?”
Harper’s smile shifted to a frown. “I suppose I must. I’m just not sure how to do it. We don’t communicate at all. I’m not sure she’d answer if I called her on the phone.”
“You did send her an invitation to the wedding?”
“Of course. She should have received it. Though, I don’t know if she’ll come.”
“She’ll come.”
Harper twisted her lips. “I’m not sure that I want her to come.”
Granny James looked off at the window, shuttered and draped. A new sadness was in her eyes, a heavy cloud over her demeanor that everyone had commented on to Harper since Granny James’s arrival. Even Devlin had taken Harper aside and inquired about Granny James’s health. “The fire has gone out of the dragon,” he’d said. It was meant to be funny but genuine concern was behind it. She’d lost weight and her hands seemed barely strong enough to carry the heft of the large diamond-and-sapphire ring that had bee
n her engagement ring.
Harper had seen photographs of her grandmother when she was Harper’s age. She’d been a great beauty with aristocratic bone structure and a tiny, voluptuous body. She was a great lady of a lifestyle that belonged to her generation. She was an excellent horsewoman, a renowned socialite, a champion of causes, and a passionate gardener. She had almost single-handedly renovated the Greenfields Park estate to the showcase it is today. To see her now, tired and crestfallen, Harper felt suddenly afraid for her.
Granny James swung her head back. She was smiling. “Let’s give her a ring right now, shall we?”
“Who? Mummy?”
“Of course your mother. It’s early yet. She should still be at home.” Granny James reached for her cell phone and said with a twinkle in her eye as she dialed the number, “She’ll answer for me.”
Harper suddenly felt sick. She put her cup of tea on the tray, noting that her hands were shaking. Her mother had this effect on her. Somewhere hidden deep inside, and despite all her efforts to be independent, regardless of her successful relationship and getting married, becoming a mother, being the mistress of her own house, she still wanted her mother’s approval. She clutched her hands together in her lap, watching Granny James sit with the cell phone to her ear, listening to it ring.
Suddenly her face grew animated. “Georgiana, dear. It’s me. Good morning!”
Granny James listened a moment. “I’m at Sea Breeze.” She paused, then rolled her eyes. “Yes, of course in South Carolina. At Harper’s house. We have wedding plans. Very exciting. You got your invitation? . . . Very good. . . . I’m as well as can be expected. . . . Yes, he’s settled in the Memory Center. Let’s talk about that later. Harper’s here, dear. She has some special news to tell you. . . . What? No, it won’t take long.”
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