“Indeed it is,” the blonde echoed, and her double entendre didn’t escape anyone.
“The golden one is obviously a Lab, but the other? Is it a Great Dane mix? Maybe some Lab there, too?” the other woman pondered.
She knew her dogs, Atticus thought.
“Yeah, that he is,” Taylor said. “That’s Thor. He’s my dog.” At the sound of his name, Thor stopped and turned toward his master. “The other dog, Hobbs, is Blake’s.”
“I’m Ashley,” the blonde said, smiling with invitation, “and this is Vivian. Are you boys from around here? Your accent says you are.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Taylor, who was answering for the team. “We’re here to celebrate our weddings.”
“Oh.” Ashley’s disappointment was clear in her voice and on her face. “Y’all are getting married?” Her hand made an encircling gesture to include all three men.
“Everyone but the Rev here,” Blake said. He winked at Atticus, knowing he’d just opened the door for him. “He’s here to marry us. We keep it friendly.”
Atticus glanced at Vivian. She was a stunner, lean and intelligent looking with fine cheekbones that gave her dark eyes a lilt. “Are you here on vacation?” he asked her.
“I live here. I’m the local vet.”
“Really?” he said, surprised.
“We best be going,” Taylor said, jabbing Atticus in the ribs. “You coming?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
Taylor nodded to the women in farewell. “Ladies.”
Blake turned toward the surf and gave a piercing whistle. In an instant, Hobbs and Thor were at their heels. They took off toward Atticus’s condo.
“I got to get myself a dog,” Atticus said, picking up the pace.
“That you do,” Taylor told him. “For lots of reasons.”
“Hey, my cousin’s Lab is having pups,” Blake offered. “Real pretty chocolates.”
“Not yet. I’m only renting the place.”
“I wouldn’t wait. Not with a vet like that on duty,” Blake said.
“I’ll just borrow Hobbs for a day. Rent a dog,” Atticus called back.
“You don’t want a puppy,” Taylor said. “Get a rescue. They’re so grateful.”
“Is that what Thor is?”
“He sure is. But he’s more than a rescue. He was trained for the Wounded Warrior program. I got him when I got back from Afghanistan.”
“You had PTSD?” Atticus asked.
“Yeah. I was in pretty bad shape.” Taylor looked at Atticus, and the pain was visible in Taylor’s pale green eyes. “Nuff to say that I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep going. That guy back there”—Taylor pointed over his shoulder to Thor—“got me through it. I used to have these bad dreams. Real bad. I was back in the war. Reliving it. Ol’ Thor could tell when I was having a nightmare. He’d lick my hand, my face, wake me up. Got so I couldn’t sleep without the dog by my side.” Taylor glanced over his shoulder to check on his dog. Thor was trotting comfortably behind him in an even stride. “Best damn dog in the world.”
Atticus was well aware of the trauma of PTSD. He’d counseled several parishioners suffering from it, not as many servicemen as battered women, accident victims, and others who’d experienced the many traumas of life. “How are you doing now?”
“Good. Thanks.”
“You don’t have nightmares?”
“Nope, not in a long time. I was worried when Harper and I moved in together. You can imagine. I would’ve been okay with separate rooms, but she wouldn’t have it.” Taylor grinned, obviously thinking of his bride. “For such a mite of a thing, she’s got a backbone of steel when it comes to me. She’s going to make the best mother.” Taylor’s love for Harper shone in his face.
Atticus wondered if they’d resolved the prenup issue. “What about her mother? Have you met her?”
“Georgiana?” He said the name as if it were a curse word, followed by a guttural grunt. “Shit, no. Don’t want to. That woman’s a piece of work. I’m glad she’s not coming to the wedding. Not sure I’d be able to be civil.”
They drew close to Atticus’s condo and he started to slow down. “This is my place.” Atticus pointed out the building. “Want some water? Coffee? That’s about all I have to offer.”
“Man, I’m starved,” Taylor said. “I need some real food. Let’s run back to Sullivan’s. We can eat in town, and they have water for the dogs. It’s civilized.”
“Aren’t we due at Sea Breeze at nine?” Blake asked.
“Look at him,” Taylor teased. “Tethered to the leash already.”
“Hey, you’re the marine. You understand taking orders,” Blake fired back.
Taylor laughed and held his palms up in surrender.
“I get my orders from higher up,” Atticus told them. “And that, gentlemen, is why I’m still single.” Grinning, he took off in a sprint in the direction of Sullivan’s Island. Looking over his shoulder, he called, “Last man there pays the bill.”
Atticus paid the bill. Not because he’d come in last, which he did, but because he was happy to pay. Happy to be part of the brotherhood. He’d been missing his buddies in Atlanta. As much as he enjoyed spending time with his sisters, he needed time with his boys. The banter, talk about sports, jokes, and just the general feeling of male camaraderie.
They ate breakfast sandwiches outdoors on the patio of Café Medley, their long legs stretched out under the small tables.
When their appetites were sated and conversation lagged, Blake rose to go. “I’ve got to bring Hobbs back home first, and then I’ve got a phone call coming in. Thanks for breakfast, Rev.”
Blake gave a whistle that had Hobbs scrambling to his feet. Atticus watched the handsome dog trot beside his master and thought to himself maybe he did need a dog after all.
Taylor rose from his chair. “Hold on, we’ll walk with you.”
“Yeah, notice he said walk, not run. My dogs are barking,” Atticus complained.
“We’ll come by for you again tomorrow. Keep in shape, man.” Blake checked his watch. “But I’ve literally got to run or I’ll miss my call. You know the way. See you there.” He took off at a trot.
Thor was already on his feet, erect, eyes glued to Taylor.
Atticus and Taylor walked at a comfortable pace past quaint shops in the lowcountry-style buildings, past the Sandpiper Gallery windows filled with local art, the park with the tennis courts, and the cherry-red fire station to where the neighborhood quieted to private homes hidden behind oaks, palms, and shrubs.
“You know Harper asked for a prenup,” Taylor said, turning his head to search Atticus’s face.
“Yeah, she told me.”
“It was a lot to swallow. I can’t lie. I talked to Granny James about it.”
Atticus hadn’t heard about this part. If he was a betting man, he’d bet on old Granny.
“She has her lawyers working on a prenup we can both live with.”
“Really?” Atticus was extraordinarily pleased. “That’s great, man.”
“We’ll see. But I’ll tell you this, Rev. You’re on duty to marry us. One way or the other. Damn the prenup.”
“You’re a good man, Taylor. I have high hopes for your marriage.”
“There’s still the problem of the house.”
“Sea Breeze?”
He nodded. “I love the house. Who wouldn’t, right? But the house is solely in Harper’s name. Technically she’s the owner, it needed to be hers for the estate, blah blah blah. I get that. But between us men, you can see how I might feel like I’m a . . . What’s the word for a guy who’s kept by a woman?”
“A gigolo?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
Atticus stopped in the street. “Aw, come on, bro. No one thinks you’re a gigolo. They wouldn’t dare.”
Taylor stopped a few feet ahead, hands on his hips, and turned to face Atticus. “I don’t care about anyone else.” Taylor drew a huge breath. “It’s how I feel.”
Atticus walked toward Taylor and patted his back. They both started walking again. “Can’t argue with how you feel. So okay, then.” Atticus summed up what he knew. “You like the house but you feel like it’s Harper’s, is that it?”
“That’s it.”
“You know that’s not how Harper sees it. She sees the house as both of yours, together.”
“One thing you’ve got to understand about Harper.” The gravel crunched loudly underfoot. “She’s eager to please. Her mother would say jump and Harper would say how high. I don’t want Harper to feel like she has to make me happy at the expense of her own happiness. I’d leave Sea Breeze tomorrow. But it means too much to her.” Taylor walked a few steps. “So I’m going to stay. Harper says it’s our home, and I’m going to have to believe her, even if inside I’m not fully on board.”
“What would it take for you to make the house feel like yours?”
“Like, what could I do to it?”
“Yeah. If it’s your house, you can make it yours, right? You redid the kitchen already. That’s a start.”
Atticus could tell by Taylor’s expression that he had never before considered the situation in this light. He kept his gaze straight ahead while the muscles in his jaw worked. A few cars passed. A man walked by talking loudly on his cell phone.
Taylor’s green eyes were alive with an idea when he turned to look at Atticus. “Thanks, Rev.” He slapped his big palm on Atticus’s back with such enthusiasm he almost knocked him over. “I know just the thing.”
Atticus and Taylor showed up at Sea Breeze a couple of hours later, practically running into Blake on his way inside, looking just as disheveled as the other two despite his stop at home. Not until they reached the kitchen did Atticus realize they’d unwittingly walked into a party. The kitchen table was filled with alcohol bottles, and dozens of tiny sip cups and plastic glasses were filled with amber-colored drinks. Girard was looking over Mamaw’s shoulder, telling her something as she poured champagne into two flutes. Carson and Harper were bent over a notepad on the counter, glasses in hands, and Dora and Devlin were debating about the contents of their glasses. Toward the back of the room, a strange woman was shaking a mixer as if she were dancing the cha-cha.
Atticus thought how the three men had not stopped talking all morning—as they ran, as they devoured a hearty breakfast, and later as he and Taylor had walked back to Sea Breeze. This sight, however, silenced them all.
Mamaw looked up and, seeing them, set down the champagne bottle and called out in her cheery southern drawl, “Well, it’s about time you boys joined the party!”
Everyone else turned his or her head, grinning.
“There you are!” Harper hurried over to Taylor to take his arm and drag him into the room, her gaze taking in their running clothes. “You look like you’re coming from the gym. Honey, I told you nine o’clock. We couldn’t wait any longer. Erinne only has so much time, you know.”
“The cavalry’s arrived,” Carson called out, waving Blake and Atticus into the room from where they hovered by the door. “We need some more men’s opinions.” She gave their running clothes a once-over. “And you guys look like you could use a watering hole.”
Taylor wasn’t smiling. “Can I just ask what in Sam Hill y’all are doing?” Taylor looked at the glass in Harper’s hand. “Are you drinking alcohol?”
“No, silly, of course not.” Harper giggled. “It’s ginger beer. Carson and I are working on a nonalcoholic drink.” When Taylor still looked confused, she said with a huff of frustration, “We’re creating our signature drinks for the weddings. Don’t you remember? We talked about it.”
Taylor shot a glance to Blake. He lifted his shoulders in a classic Huh?
“Men,” Dora called out with mock frustration. “Hopeless.”
“Nah,” Devlin called out, coming over to greet the men. He handed them each a glass. “Be gentle with them, ladies. They just realized that there’s no one less important during wedding plans than the groom.”
“Blake, meet Erinne,” Carson said as Erinne walked up with her shaker. “She’s from Firefly Distillery and brought all these goodies for us to taste.”
“I don’t need an introduction to Firefly.” Blake took a sip from his glass. “Sweet tea vodka is a staple in my house. Okay.” He set down the glass and rubbed his hands together, eyes feasting on the choices. “I’m at your service, ladies. Though I have to say, I don’t usually drink at nine thirty in the morning. What’ve we got here?” He picked up a smaller bottle in the shape of a large mason jar. “Moonshine?”
“Really?” Taylor came closer. “Nothin’ says wedding in the South like a little moonshine.”
“It’s a specialty of ours.” Erinne joined them at the table. “We have more flavors than just this one, but I brought some peach moonshine specifically for the wedding cocktail.” She offered them two flutes. “This is the drink the group liked for the wedding. Sparkling wine and peach moonshine. Now that’s lowcountry.”
Blake and Taylor each took a swallow of the wine.
“Good.” Blake looked at the glass. “Mama’s going to love that.”
“Real good,” Taylor agreed. “For the ladies. But we need something with more bite for the guys.”
“See?” Harper said. “That’s why we needed you. Get busy, boys.”
Dora leaned over to Mamaw and said in a stage whisper, “She didn’t say chop-chop.”
Erinne poured two more cups of liquid from her shaker. “Try this, guys. It’s not so sweet. This is a mix of Cannonborough ginger beer and Firefly sweet tea vodka.”
Taylor tried a swallow. “Now we’re talking.” He smacked his lips. He stepped closer, getting into the mood. “Can I get in here and mix a bit?”
“Look who just became a mixologist,” Blake teased.
Erinne laughed. “That’s what you’re here for. Both of you. Dive in.”
As they did so, Carson stepped closer to Atticus and handed him a glass of iced ginger beer. “You’re gonna love this. You won’t miss the alcohol, it’s so good.”
He met her gaze and they shared a look of mutual support. “Thanks.” He took a sip and it was extraordinarily delicious. Not too sweet. He looked at her again, noticed she looked better. She had some color from her time out on the water. But more, she’d lost the sullenness that had cloaked her features the last time they’d talked.
“How are you doing?” he asked. They both understood this was a follow-up question to the long discussion they’d had after her last argument with Blake.
“Good.” She couldn’t hide the sparkle in her eyes. She looked around and saw that everyone was clustered around the table, talking, laughing, tasting. “Actually, do you have a minute?” When he nodded, she led them out the kitchen door to the porch, where they could talk privately.
The air felt warmer outside than it did inside. Atticus took a deep breath as he looked out over the majesty of the Cove. Spring had really set in now. He’d never realized that one could notice the change of seasons along the coastline as one could in the North. It was just more subtle, but when you knew where to look, the signs were obvious. The cordgrass was a deep green at the bottom, and as it grew, all the wetlands would be like the great prairies, waving green in the sun. The lowcountry was setting roots in his heart.
“That’s a new look for you, Rev,” Carson said, taking in his running shorts and sweaty T-shirt, his ball cap on backward. “I like it.”
“Yeah?” He chuckled. “We all met up on the beach. Had breakfast together. Have to say, they’re great guys. I really like them.”
Carson beamed. “Yeah, they are. They like you, too.”
“How can you tell?”
“I can always tell. If Taylor doesn’t like someone, he puts on his marine face to scare them away. Blake is more subtle. He just ignores you. Politely, of course. His mama raised him right. But you, they treat like one of the family.”
Atticus swallowed down the rush of emotion that comm
ent elicited. “Yeah, we’re going to start some pickup games of volleyball or something. So, what’s up?” he asked, gently leading her back to the topic.
“I got a second interview with Charleston Waterkeepers. It’s this really great nonprofit that focuses on local water quality. The pay is nothing, of course.” She laughed. “But I don’t care about that. It’s a job I can really sink my teeth into. I can make a difference, and that’s what I need.” She grinned with pride.
“Are you going to take it?” he asked, knowing full well what that meant.
“If they offer, yes.”
“Good decision.”
“I know.” She gave a short laugh. She took a sip of her drink, then after a minute said more seriously, “Thanks, Rev.”
“For what?”
“For helping me say yes. To the job, to Blake, to my future.”
Atticus thought he’d never been paid a better compliment. He reached out to slip his arm around her shoulders, feeling more than a minister to her or even just a friend. He felt like her brother.
“There you are,” Harper called from the doorway leading out of the kitchen. “The guys settled on a drink. They’re calling it the Firefly Cannonball. Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”
“I like it.” Atticus grinned. “But I’ll stick to the straight ginger beer.”
“Atticus, glad I caught you.” Harper looked over her shoulder and let the screen door silently close behind her. She hurried over to where Carson and Atticus stood. “Listen,” she said in a low voice. “I need to ask you a huge favor.”
“Yeah?” Atticus’s voice rose slightly in anticipation.
“I told you about how bad the last session at the bridal salon was, right?”
He nodded.
Harper met Carson’s gaze and she nodded in agreement, egging Harper on. “So we were thinking, Carson and I, on going to the salon again, only this time without the entourage.”
“Okay,” Atticus said slowly, not liking where this was going.
“We want you to come, too.”
“Whoa, ladies.” Atticus back-stepped with one palm up. “You’ve got the wrong guy for this. I don’t know the first thing about wedding gowns.”
A Lowcountry Wedding Page 28