Finally, she remembered the brown, wise, yet maddeningly unlined face of Lucille, her large eyes flashing with humor or a scold. Tonight the past was as alive in Mamaw’s heart as the present. So many changes, she thought, kicking off the rocking motion with her foot.
“What did you ’spect?” came a voice in her mind’s ear.
It was often like this when she sat alone on the porch of the cottage, especially on a soft night such as this when the ringing of laughter wafted down from the big house. Marietta was not superstitious. But she was Charleston born and bred and had seen and heard too much in those old houses not to know that spirits came and went at their pleasure. Still, she told herself she only imagined her dear Lucille sitting here with her, as she had so often throughout their lives together. So many years of coming up with one harebrained scheme after another, playing hands of gin rummy, and just passing the time as old friends did. When Marietta heard a voice in her head, it did not cause her apprehension nor did she feel haunted. She simply accepted the voice as a comfort in her old age. Welcomed it.
“I suppose I expected things to go on the way they were . . . forever,” she replied.
She heard a rustling in the leaves that sounded like laughter. “Them girls were going to get married, start lives of their own someday,” Lucille said. “You knew that. Well, that day’s here, so no use bellyaching about it.”
“I’m not bellyaching,” Mamaw said indignantly. “Can’t an old woman get teary eyed with nostalgia?”
“Sure she can. Only not too much. You’ll spoil your makeup. Your fella is going to come lookin’ for you pretty soon.”
So like Lucille, always looking out for her. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Always did. Girard’s a fine man. Got what I call character. And he’s a looker, too.”
Mamaw smiled and curled her toes at the memory of how handsome Girard looked in his dinner jacket tonight.
“The weddings begin tomorrow,” she said, not quite believing the day had finally arrived. “Two lowcountry weddings—one at the beach, one at a plantation. Each venue is as unique as the bride, yet each is equally bound by the traditions and values of the lowcountry. Oh, Lucille, I wish you could stand by my side at the ceremonies.”
“I’ll be there,” came Lucille’s voice on the wind. “I’ll be right beside you, same as always.”
Marietta felt the breeze glide across her face and sighed. “I know you will. We did it, Lucille. We’ve seen our Summer Girls married and settled. Happy. Oh, I know there will be bumps in the road ahead. There always are. But I have high hopes for them.”
“I do, too. And from where I’m sittin’ I got a good view.”
Mamaw smiled, reassured by that. “What do I do now, old friend?”
A bird cackled in the old oak, shrill and high.
“Lucille?”
“You keep on living, old girl,” came the voice, fading now as the sound of footfalls rose louder. “Tomorrow you pick up your skirt and dance!”
Mamaw, distracted by the sound of laughter, looked up to see her three granddaughters walking her way, arms linked, their long dresses flowing in the breeze, their faces shimmering in the night like the stars overhead. They were laughing and calling her name.
“Mamaw!”
“I’m here!” she called back.
They hurried up the stairs and surrounded her, wrapping arms around her, enveloping her in their scents, kissing her cheeks, scolding her for running off. She closed her eyes and heard their voices as a symphony of her life—highs and lows, dissonance and consonance, solos and duets, staccato and grave.
“We’ve come to fetch you back to the party,” Carson said, tugging at her arm.
“It’s not a party without you,” Dora added.
“Up now, Mamaw!” Harper exclaimed, helping her from the chair. “You are and always will be the hostess of Sea Breeze. Everyone is waiting on you.”
Standing on her porch, Mamaw looked out and saw a young man walking toward her, cloaked in shadow. Her breath caught. Tall and slender, he walked with his hands in his pockets, his gait elegant and achingly familiar. Parker, her heart called out. Standing in the arms of his daughters, she felt his presence keenly.
Yet as the young man drew nearer into the light, she recognized his darker skin, his broader forehead, his fuller lips. This man was no one’s ghost. He was his own man, she realized, seeing his eyes light up at the sight of her and his sisters. Her grandson.
“Atticus.” She reached out her hand.
“Mamaw.” Atticus kissed her hand. “Come. The night is still young. The party has just begun!”
Snapshots
Legare Waring House
Harper felt as though she was in a dream as she rode in the white horse-drawn carriage down the long alley of ancient oaks. Moss dripped from the boughs like bridal lace. It was twilight and a hush fell over the lush, historic gardens of the Legare Waring House as though the earth held its breath for her wedding. She heard the clop clop clop of the hooves, was enveloped in the heady scent of jasmine, and everywhere she looked she saw signs of the lowcountry she had come to love and call home.
The sound of the hooves alerted the guests gathered under the drape of oaks. Everyone stood and turned toward her. Harper felt her heart flutter in her chest like a caged bird eager to take flight. Granny James and Mamaw came to her side, each dressed in beige lace. Linking arms, she felt their wisdom, strength, and love support her. The string quartet started to play, and with her grandmothers, she began her walk toward a small white tented pavilion decked with seasonal flowers. Hanging from ropes, mason jar lanterns lit her way. She smiled when she saw Carson and Dora standing side by side in long dresses of coral.
Then she saw Taylor, standing straight and tall in his Marine dress blues, her knight in shining armor. Their eyes met and with a gasp the trembling bird in her chest broke free to soar. As she walked, smiling, toward her husband, she heard the whispers of the past rise up to wish this lowcountry bride a loving present and a bright future.
Wild Dunes Grand Pavilion
Who is that woman? Carson wondered as she stared at her reflection. Her long dark hair was curled, braided, and looped around her head with pearl pins. Large teardrop pearls fell from her ears. With her hair done up and dressed in the vintage gown, Carson thought she could be looking at the portrait of her ancestor Claire, the founder of the Muirs of Charleston.
She smiled at the thought and felt the confidence she always did when she saw the Muir blue eyes that represented generations of southern women who called the lowcountry home. In these final moments as a single woman, Carson searched for talismans to help her transition to wife. Soon she would unite with Blake in the eyes of her family and her community.
The door to her room opened and Mamaw, Dora, and Harper rushed in, a blur of aqua blue dresses, singing out a chorus of oohs and ahhs at seeing her in her bridal attire. Harper and Mamaw attached the French lace veil to the back of her head. Dora handed her a bouquet of white roses and blue hydrangeas. Grasping it, Carson felt a shiver of anticipation laced with anxiety. It was time.
Mamaw took her hand and led her out of the townhouse, one of a row of quaint and colorful townhouses along the boardwalk at Wild Dunes. Her heart pounded in her chest and she felt the balmy air of the early evening envelope her as she made her way to the Grand Pavilion. She had always been afraid of commitment and here she was at the precipice of making the ultimate commitment—to love, honor, and cherish one man all the days of her life. She felt her footsteps falter. Mamaw clutched her hand tight.
Then she heard the call of the ocean. She followed her instincts and, picking up her hem, rushed down the remaining yards to the pavilion. The vista opened up to reveal the radiance of the sun sparkling on the blue ocean. She went directly to the gazebo railing to clutch it and stare out beyond the cluster of palms and shrubs. The long stretch of sandy beach and the ruffling white surf welcomed her. She sighed and felt her panic abate.
>
People clustered near four white pillars decorated with palm fronds and flowers. Her gaze zoomed to one dark-haired man, tall and slender, in a navy blazer and tan pants. Though he stood with his back to her, her heart saw the piercing dark eyes that were searching, waiting, she knew, only for her. Carson breathed deep the salty air and smiled with the calm of knowing. The water, the beach—this man—was where she belonged. She’d been right to get married here.
In a rush Carson felt her courage and joy rise up to crest in her heart and flow through her blood. She ran to the center of the pavilion, stretched out her arms and, letting her head fall back, twirled in a dance of joy while Mamaw, Harper, and Dora laughed and clapped.
“I’m getting married!”
Dora and Devlin held hands and snuck away from the reception. The band was playing “My Girl” and couples swayed slowly under the great gazebo overlooking the ocean. The moon was high and the stars were bright, lighting their path beneath the palms to the waiting car that Devlin had phoned to pick them up. They climbed into the backseat, giggling like kids.
“You sure you want to do this?” Devlin asked in the backseat. “That was one helluva wedding. You sure you don’t want one like this? Or like Harper’s? Just say the word and you’ll have it.”
“I’ve had the big wedding and I don’t want another,” Dora told him. “I only want you. Besides,” she said, snuggling closer, “I think this is ever so much more romantic.”
His eyes sparked as he bent to kiss her lips, the first of many to come.
“Where to, sir?” asked the driver.
“The airport,” Devlin told him. Then, smiling his crooked grin, he looked into Dora’s eyes and called out, “Las Vegas, here we come!”
Epilogue
It was a rainy June morning in the lowcountry. The soft rays of dawn were obscured by thick clouds the shades of blue and gray. They hung low with a mist that hovered over land and sea like a down blanket. From the harbor the sonorous foghorn of a towering cargo ship bellowed as the behemoth lumbered out to the open seas. The pungent, amniotic scent of the wetlands hung heavy in the air.
These were the magic hours for the lowcountry wildlife. Before the humans descended to the meandering creeks and racing rivers with their roaring boats and prying eyes. The tide was low and the mudflats presented a bountiful feast for the birds. Higher in the sky the great ospreys soared over the water searching with their binocular vision for a fish to bring home to the fledglings waiting in the nests.
In the Cove, all was serene. Not a paddleboard in sight. A dolphin swam at a leisurely pace against the current, arching gracefully, its silvery gray skin camouflaged by the steely color of the water. The dolphin journeyed to a particular dock she knew well. She could hear the rhythmic bumping of the lower dock against the wood pilings as it rose and fell with the waves. The dolphin’s dark almond eyes searched the dock, circled again, and seeing no one, released a loud and plaintive whistle. A high-pitched, beckoning contact call for one particular human. A tall female with long dark hair and eyes the color of the skies on a cloudless day.
But no one answered the whistle. The house was quiet. Void of sound. The dolphin did not sense any human presence in the great house beyond. Still, she whistled once more, then waited.
A small calf, fragile and tender, nudged its mother. The dolphin knew she could stay no longer. The woman would not come again. Nor would the dolphin. Without another whistle or click, the dolphin turned and with one effortless sweep of her tail headed back up the creek, farther away from the dock and the tall woman, the memory of whom was already beginning to fade. As the dolphin swam, she scanned the water, alert, all her senses, her whole being, focused on the safety of her calf. At her side the newborn calf was attuned to its mother, already learning the dolphin ways. Together they swam deeper into the mysterious waters of the Cove in a fluid lowcountry ballet. A graceful celebration of the beauty of all things wild.
Acknowledgments
This being the fourth book in the Lowcountry series (The Summer Girls, The Summer Wind, The Summer’s End) I have journeyed not only with the characters for these several years, but also with so many people who have helped me create the books.
First and foremost, I’m blessed with an extraordinary editor and publishing team. For their love, support, and brilliance, thank you to my stellar team at Gallery Books: Lauren McKenna, Louise Burke, Jennifer Bergstrom, Jennifer Long, Liz Psaltis, Jean Anne Rose, Elana Cohen, Kristin Dwyer, Diana Velasquez, Jennifer Robinson, Steven Henry Boldt. And to my equally grand team at Trident Media Group: Kimberly Whalen, Robert Gottlieb, Tara Carberry, Lauren Paverman, Sylvie Rosokoff. As well as to Joe Veltre at Gersh.
For arranging my tour schedules and speaking engagements and for writing such great articles, thank you Angela May, Kathie Bennett, and Susan Zurenda. Thank you to Lisa Minnick, Ruth Cryns, Charlotte Tarr, Linda Plunkett, Jeanette Turner, for more support than I can list.
Again, sincere thanks and appreciation to Dr. Pat Fair at NOAA and to the wonderful team at the Dolphin Research Center, Grassy Key, Florida, for my education and training with dolphins.
A heartfelt thanks goes to Amy Sottile, a longtime supporter and friend who, with the support of Wild Dunes, has graciously thrown me book launch parties at the resort that took my breath away.
The Lowcountry Wedding Giveaway involved so many wonderful companies and people who stepped up to proudly display a glimpse of the charm and unparalleled beauty of a lowcountry wedding. I remain humbled by your enthusiastic response. Thank you: Wild Dunes Resort and The Legare Waring House at Charlestown Landing. Firefly Distillery for creating the signature cocktails A Lowcountry Wedding and the Firefly Cannonball. Cannonborough, Kate McDonald Bridal; LulaKate; Brackish Bow Ties; Charleston Tuxedo; Wildflowers Inc.; Studio R; Stox & Co.; SalonSalon of Charleston; Cru Catering; Christy Loftin; Charleston Virtuosi and Kiral Productions; Squeeze Cocktail & Beverage Catering; Sweet Lulu’s Bakery on Wheels; Charming Inns (John Rutledge House); Carolina’s Executive Limo Line; Riverland Studios; EventWorks; Ashley Rhodes Event Designs; Croghan’s Jewel Box.
And as always, my love and thanks to the man I married—Markus. I couldn’t have finished this book without your love and support and meals! Come and grow old with me, for the best is yet to be!
Gallery Readers Group Guide
A Lowcountry Wedding
Mary Alice Monroe
This reading group guide for A Lowcountry Wedding includes an introduction, discussion questions, ideas for enhancing your book club, and recipes. The suggested questions are intended to help your reading group find new and interesting angles and topics for your discussion. We hope that these questions will enrich your conversation and increase your enjoyment of the book.
Introduction
This is the fourth book in New York Times bestselling author Mary Alice Monroe’s Lowcountry Summer series about three half sisters and their grandmother living on Sullivan’s Island.
After finding love and new beginnings, Marietta Muir and her granddaughters, Dora, Carson, and Harper, are facing their lowcountry weddings. While new careers and dual wedding plans bring insecurities to the surface, it’s the unexpected arrival of Reverend Atticus Green who introduces an unknown family secret into their midst.
As personal crises and two weddings converge, it will take the Muir sisters’ strong bond to persevere and appreciate how compassion, honesty, and commitment are fundamental for marriage.
Topics & Questions for Discussion
1. When Mamaw was first married, her mother, Barbara, told her, “[A]t the root of all etiquette and manners is kindness.” Do you agree? Etiquette and manners have evolved since the 1920’s Emily Post. What do you think women of Dora, Carson, and Harper’s generation would say about their great-grandmother’s view of the world? How about Granny James?
2. Early in A Lowcountry Wedding, we learn that Marietta believes that the purpose of marriage is to be “an institution set up by society to protec
t the concept of the family.” Do you think her opinion is informed by her generation or by her personality? How do you think her beliefs regarding marriage evolved by the end of the novel? Discuss what you believe the purpose of marriage is.
3. Were you surprised by Dora’s initial response to Devlin’s proposal? Whose side of their argument do you find yourself agreeing with more?
4. Atticus Green arrives at Sea Breeze unannounced. What was your initial reaction when he was introduced to the Muir sisters? How did his role as marriage counselor support the brides and the family?
5. Take a look at how everyone is dressed at the rehearsal dinner, beginning on page 182. What do you think their choices say about their personalities and roles within the upcoming weddings? How about within the Muir family at large?
6. “[S]he could not have imagined a happier ending to this evening’s play.” Why does Mamaw call Harper’s rehearsal dinner a play? If this is a play, who is the main character(s) and who, if anyone, should we consider the antagonist? Discuss if you think the proceedings of a wedding can be likened to a play—characters with roles to play, lines to say, costumes and rehearsals.
7. Much of Atticus’s personality and habits, including his alcoholism, can be traced back to his genealogy. Yet he also places much store in the strong family values he learned from his parents. What do you think Mary Alice Monroe is trying to tell us here in the nature vs nurture debate? Contrast Atticus and Carson’s way of dealing with their alcoholism with Parker’s. Why do you think they were arguably more successful in living with this disease?
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