Sweet Carolina Morning (6 page)

Jack changed lanes. “Telling you about it makes me feel like a chump.”

“Don't,” Linny said fiercely, and in the glow of the dashboard, she saw the muscle in his jaw tense. Reaching over, she squeezed Jack's hand, and he squeezed back.

Both were quiet, lost in their thoughts. Love would be so much easier if they didn't have to carry around the burden of all their disappointments, the ghosts of past loves. Add the complication of families and love got even trickier.

The moon shone down a hard yellow light, illuminating fallow fields and craggy tree lines. Linny turned on the radio, but each song that played was sad. Patty Griffin sang “When It Don't Come Easy,” and Steve Earle sang the “Fort Worth Blues.” Linny looked out the window as they passed dark houses and just felt lonely.

T
he next morning Linny leaned underneath the kitchen table and, with satisfaction, caught the giant tumbleweed of dog hair with the wand of the vacuum cleaner. Glancing at the see-through canister, she shook her head. It was almost a quarter full, even though she'd emptied it before she'd started. How two dogs could generate so much hair was beyond her.

She vacuumed briskly, trying to shake off her hangover funk from last night, but so far it wasn't working. As she pushed the hose back in its holder and ran rows across the wood floors in the living room, she kept rerunning the movie in her head. Ceecee prattled about the Suttons and couples giving up too soon on marriages. Was she a well-meaning but clueless ditherer or the queen of passive-aggressive behavior? If she were the latter, Linny would have to deal with that quicksand for the rest of her life. Linny edged the vacuum into a corner she'd missed. Then there was the wall shrine to Vera and Jack, the engagement news that never got shared, and the conversation on the ride home.

Linny wheeled the Hoover into her small bedroom and it sucked up the cluster of fur dust bunnies that circled up around the dogs' crates. The whole evening had been one bad jack-in-the-box surprise after another. The dark thoughts she'd had yesterday scrabbled into her head. Did Jack still have any love left for Vera? Did he still pine for her? She vacuumed faster until the trailer she called home was spic and span.

She put away the Hoover and warmed up her mug of coffee with what was left in the pot. Staring out the window at the brown stubble left in the fields from last year's corn, Linny tried to muster some enthusiasm for this morning's outing. Her sister—who kept referring to herself as the wedding planner—was taking her to look at a few possible venues. Kate was thrilled about Linny and Jack's wedding, but she'd only been a bride once. This being Linny's third trip down the aisle—and at this age—the bride-to-be was less thrilled.

She picked up a triangle of cold toast and nibbled it, feeling the sadness she'd been fighting for several days now. Her past was haunting her: the tragedy of losing Andy, the mistake she'd made with Buck. Pushing back her hair, she remembered the gray ones she'd spied in the mirror that morning. Meeting Jack now was a miracle, but she wished she were twenty-five and not skidding toward forty so she could have shared her youth with him. Their whole lives could have unfolded instead of being spliced together now. She shook her head and took a sip of cold coffee. Wistful, sad, regretful: that wasn't how she was supposed to feel about her wedding.

When she spied Kate crunching up the driveway in her Honda, Linny corralled up the dogs to put them in their crates, slung her purse on her shoulder, and ran outside. Pasting on a smile, she slipped into the passenger seat and leaned over to give her sister a peck on the cheek. “Good morning, sweets,” she called out, trying to sound cheerful. “How are you?”

“I didn't throw up today. It was great,” Kate enthused. She tapped her finger on her phone, resting on the seat between them. “Remind me Mama's calling from the cruise at eleven. I think they're in Grand Cayman today.”

“I will,” Linny said. “I hope they're having a ball.”

“I do, too,” Kate agreed and put the car in gear. “Was last night terribly romantic?” She pressed a hand to her chest, looking dreamy. “Tender looks, exultant announcement, followed by deep bonding with Jack's mom and dad?”

Linny gazed out the window for a moment, then said flatly, “The evening was odd, and there was no deep bonding.”

Her mouth a perfect O, Kate braked and the car skidded to a stop. “Why not?”

Haltingly, Linny explained and summed it up, “So Jack hadn't told them we're in love, nobody in that family communicates real well, and his mother is besotted with his ex-wife.” She picked at a cuticle and looked out the window. “I'm starting to wonder if Jack is over Vera.”

“Of course he is,” Kate said staunchly. “Jack adores you and you'll win over his parents.” She resumed driving. “This is just a hiccough. Couples put way too much pressure on themselves about the engagement and wedding going off without a hitch, and most of the time they don't.” She gave a modest shrug. “Both of ours went beautifully, but we just got lucky.”

Linny looked at her to see if she was joking, but Kate had a fond smile on her face as she tooled down the road. Which was more beautiful, she wondered? The oyster roast engagement party when Jerry's wild buck of a nephew crashed his ATV into the porta-potty while the minister's wife was using it and Jerry's uncle Earl ate his first-ever shrimp and went into anaphylactic shock? Or was it during the wedding toasts when Jerry's daddy tried to convert bewildered wedding guests with tent revival type preaching about the evils of fornication? “Beautiful and memorable,” she murmured.

“Memorable is right,” Kate broke into a grin but she waved a hand dismissively. “We had a few hitches, but they kept things lively.”

Linny thought about it for a moment. “The main thing I recall is how Jerry looked at you: like he couldn't believe how lucky he was.”

“That's how Jack looks at you,” Kate insisted. “Give it a few days, talk with him, and let him break it to his parents any way he wants. Things will be fine.” Pulling a list from her purse, she thrust into Linny's hand a list that was entitled “Linny's Possible Dream Wedding Venue
.
” “Here's a list of the venues we need to visit today.”

“Dream wedding, huh?” Linny gave a rueful laugh. “Might be safer to title it, ‘Hope the Third Time's a Charm Wedding Venues.' ”

“Cut it out,” she said with a warning look. “We'll visit three places today. Two or three months' lead time narrowed down the choices, but your wedding planner—
moi
—came up with a few creative yet low-key options. We need to get on this chop-chop.” She turned to Linny and gave her a buck-up-now smile. “This'll be fun, Lin. I promise.”

“All right, all right. But remember, let's keep it simple,” Linny grumbled. “Any talk of doves being released and we'll marry at the magistrate's office.”

Kate made a face. “On your wedding day, you can't go to the courthouse and mingle with the unhappy people: drunk drivers, girlfriend beaters, child support dodgers. It's terrible karma.” She shivered dramatically.

Linny slumped as best she could in her seatbelt. Neither the picture-perfect wedding at St. Alban's Episcopal nor the sunset-on-the-beach ceremony in Bermuda had brought her good karma. The sky brightened, and rays of sunlight peaked through the clouds in the east. Linny thought about how fervently Jack had embraced her before he'd dropped her off at home last night. “I'll fix this,” he'd promised. “Everything will be all right.” She felt a surge of hopeful optimism. “Let's go find us the perfect spot.”

“Good,” Kate said, looking relieved. She pointed at the navigation screen on her dash. “I entered all the addresses before I left the house.” As she tooled down the farm road, she seemed to be making a beeline for every rut.

On the way back up a particularly deep pothole, Linny bumped her head on the window glass. Rubbing it, she asked, “Can you try to aim for the good parts of the road?”

“What?” Kate slowed, looking puzzled, perched as she was on the cool gel pillow on her seat, and realized what she'd done. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Lin. Jerry says I'm having trouble focusing.”

“Do you want me to drive?” Linny asked.

“No, I'm fine.” Kate pushed her sunglasses up her nose, firmly gripped the wheel, and drove on. “First stop is right up the road at Mama's new church.”

Linny shot her sister a doubtful look. “I haven't been inside a church in a long time.”

Kate pulled onto the blacktop and took off at a sedate speed. “It might be fine. I don't think it's like the old-timey Baptists. Mama says they've got a new preacher who's real progressive.”

Remembering a comment her mother had made before she'd left on her trip, Linny scrubbed her eyes with her fingers. “Is that the same preacher Mama said would think her cruise was a floating Gomorrah, so she told him she was going on a missionary trip with Ruby and Dessie to fix up poor people's houses in Appalachia?”

“Oh dear.” Kate's sunny expression clouded and she pushed a hand through her curly hair. Pulling into the parking lot at Sanctifying Redeemer Baptist Church, she turned off the engine and looked at Linny. “Well, we're here. We may as well see it.”

Both sisters sat for a moment, eyes wide, taking in a fieldstone and timber stunner of a building.

“Wow. I didn't know it was this big,” Kate said. “Mama didn't mention that.”

Linny thought about the worn front steps and uneven floors of Mama's little home church, which had been destroyed by a fire the year before. She shook her head doubtfully. “This is too big.”

Kate patted her arm. “Come on. Let's at least look at it.”

In the vestibule, Linny gaped at the familiar green and white signage for Starbucks and a directional arrow to the Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream Bar. One colorful banner read,
Join us Wednesday Night at 7:00 for Christian Karaoke!
and another,
The Ten Commandments Were Not Called the Ten Suggestions!
Linny winced.

In the cavernous sanctuary, Kate reverently touched the tongue and groove oak on the walls and ceiling. “Jerry would love this woodwork. It must have cost a fortune,” she whispered.

As they stood admiring a wall of stained glass, a silver-haired man stepped out of the church office, saw them, and gave a cheery wave. “Welcome, ladies. You must be Linny and Kate. I'm Dr. Willis Faison. Do come in.” He made a sweeping gesture and ushered them into his office.

Dr. Faison gazed at them expectantly and in a voice like the radio announcers on the NPR station, asked, “How do you like our church?”

Kate enthused, “It's stunning, and you have ice cream and coffee and karaoke!”

“Even with our very tight budget, we try to keep up with the times,” he said with a chuckle. Gesturing for them to take seats, he held the crease in his pants legs as he sat, his gilt-framed Muncy College Divinity School degree on the wall behind him. “So, you are looking at our church for your wedding?” he said to Linny.

Her mouth went dry. Possibly. Seemed unlikely. “Yes, that's it.”

“Good, good.” Dr. Faison nodded. “Now, are you and your fiancé members of our humble congregation? I am still new here, but I don't believe I recognize your face.”

“No, sir.” Why was she kowtowing? Linny sat up straighter in her wooden chair. “My fiancé and I are looking for a church, though.” She squirmed in her seat at giving the correct answer.

His eyes narrowed. “Are you now?”

“Yes.” Linny flushed. Neither she nor Jack were big on organized religion.

“We don't usually marry walk-ins,” he said, his blue eyes cool.

Linny smarted and her face flamed.

Kate jumped in, looking earnest. “Our mother is a new but very active member of your church. She was thirty years at First Baptist before the fire last fall.”

The minister shook his head, frowning. “That fire was a shame.” He pushed up the sleeves of his dove-gray cashmere sweater. “Of course they weren't adequately insured either.” He pursed his lips, reminding them, “The Lord helps those who help themselves.”

Linny shot Kate a look, and her sister gave her head an almost imperceptible shake.

He slipped on a pair of silver half glasses, and glanced over the top at them. “Remind me of your mother's name?”

“Dottie . . . Dorothy Taylor,” Linny said stiffly.

“Just one moment, please.” Raising a finger, he wheeled back from his desk in his Herman Miller chair, rose, and trotted into the empty office next door. Through the glass half partition of the wall, they could see him sit down in front of a computer.

“He's awful,” Linny whispered, feeling the cold knot in her stomach.

“I know,” Kate admitted, frowning as she watched him peer at the screen. “I'll bet he's pulling up records of donation amounts to see how much Mama's contributed.”

Her scalp prickled with anger. “That can't be much. Mama's on a fixed income. He'd marry us in a minute if she was a big donor.” Linny knew how this would play out. He'd give them an unctuous smile and tell them that, unfortunately, the church was booked solid for the next year. She turned to Kate and said softly, “I'm going to fire him before he fires me.”

Dr. Faison stepped into the room, looking regretful as he slid into his chair. “I'm afraid . . .”

Linny jumped in, determined to preempt his no. “I'm so sorry, but your church isn't quite what we were looking for.”

“Oh?” The minister's cool eyes were now frosty, arctic. His brows furrowed, and he asked in a patronizing tone, “What is it that you are looking for that we don't offer?”

“Your church is too”—Linny hadn't thought it through and scrambled—“too wooden.”

Kate chimed in, waving her hand in the general direction of the sanctuary. “Way too wooden. Wood, wood, wood.”

The minister's mouth opened and closed. “Too wooden?”

Kate waxed on, warming to her topic. “My sister likes nature, sunshine, vivid hues; think fields of gold, grasshopper greens, saffron rice . . .” She raised her hands, palms up, and smiled serenely. “Linny has just this moment decided on an al fresco wedding.”