A Lowcountry Wedding (30 page)

“All the same, Harper is hurt. She seems to have an infinite ability of being hurt by her mother.”

“And doesn’t Georgiana know it.” Mamaw was fit to be tied about that woman. She only wished she could have had five minutes on the phone with her.

“She can be difficult,” Imogene conceded, shifting the towel on her shoulders. Looking up, her face was grave. “But she is my daughter. And Harper’s mother. Regardless of what you and I think, I would like to try to help the two of them get past this argument. For Harper’s sake. She may not say it aloud, but of course she wants her mother at her wedding.”

Marietta was instantly contrite. “Of course, you’re right. Surely we can put our heads together and figure something out.”

Imogene sipped water from her bottle.

Mamaw watched her, going over in her mind what Imogene had said about Greenfields Park. “Does Harper have a responsibility to Greenfields Park?” Mamaw asked at last, unable to conceal her worry. “I thought that issue was put to bed when Harper bought Sea Breeze last fall.”

“Oh, blimey, no one has any responsibilities!” Granny James put her forehead in her palm. After a second she let her hand drop and faced Marietta. “I’ve done it all. Though I haven’t yet told Georgiana. You see, I’ve sold Greenfields Park.”

Marietta was stunned by the news. “Sold it?”

Imogene brought Marietta up-to-date on the sale of the estate, concluding with how she was, for the moment, homeless.

“But wherever will you live?”

Imogene smiled cagily. “I thought I’d move here for a while. Just until I find something suitable. I wouldn’t be here all the time, of course. I would visit Georgiana.”

“Good heavens, Imogene. Who do you think you’re fooling? No one can spend time with that woman. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”

“Sadly, there is truth in what you say.” Imogene looked off.
“But Georgiana is so busy, always running out to some luncheon or dinner, she’s never around anyway. We’d be like two ships passing in the night. It wouldn’t be for long. I’ll find my own place, perhaps on Sullivan’s Island. I want to travel, too. I’m free! For the first time in a very long while.” Imogene smiled and looked again at Marietta, lifting one shoulder. “As I said, Sea Breeze would just be a place to hang my hat. My base.” Imogene’s face sobered. “The last thing I want to be at this point in my life is a burden.”

Marietta understood this emotion so well. It had been her greatest worry with the sale of Sea Breeze.

“I confess, I want to be near my only granddaughter. And my new grandchild.” Imogene smiled at the thought of the upcoming baby. “Is that so wrong?”

“Of course not. We all feel the same way.”

Imogene nodded, accepting that.

Marietta leaned back in the large black wicker chair and considered all Imogene had told her. “Now it’s all becoming as clear as day,” Marietta said with a huff of incredulity. “That’s why you’re so upset about my living in the cottage. That sweet li’l space was to be your . . . your ‘base,’ as you put it.”

“Of course it was! That was the plan all along.” Imogene reached out her finger to point accusingly at Marietta. “And you knew it! But did that stop you? No! Not bloody likely.”

Marietta laughed.

Imogene sat up in her chair, insulted. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re right. I did know that.”

Imogene was appalled. “I knew it.”

“It wasn’t why I moved into the cottage. But”—Marietta shrugged as a sly smile eased across her cheeks—“knowing I’d
be skewering you a bit in the bargain made the move all the sweeter.”

Imogene stared at Marietta as one unable to believe what she’d just heard. Then her lips twitched and she burst out laughing. “I’d have done the same thing!”

“Don’t I know it!”

“Gawd, what a pair we make. Maybe we should move in together.”

“We’d kill each other.”

“But what sport we’d have!” Imogene reached for her bottle of water and took a long swallow. She put the bottle on the table and made a face. “You wouldn’t happen to have any of your special tea, would you? The family recipe?”

Marietta chuckled and shook her head. “Not now. But how about a game of cards tomorrow afternoon? I’ll make it special.”

“You’re on. Make a pitcher. Make two. I need a purge.”

The air of a truce floated between them as they settled back into their chairs. They lapsed into a thoughtful silence. Marietta studied the woman across the table from her. Once again she’d leaned back into the cushions and looked off at the Cove. Imogene just didn’t have the same vitality she’d had the last time she was here. Imogene shivered under the heavy towel. Her hair, drying in the sun, blew in soft wisps, exposing a pinkening scalp. They were old soldiers, Marietta realized. Comrades-in-arms. They’d fought many battles in their years. Seen their triumphs, too. But the woman across from her appeared near broken.

“Come sit in the shade. You’re getting a sunburn,” Marietta said.

“I’m too chilly.”

“Then wear a hat.” Marietta reached beside her, grabbed her floppy beach hat, and handed it to Imogene.

Imogene took it and flopped it on her head with an exaggerated push. “Happy now?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a bossy bitch.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Imogene adjusted the hat on her head and settled into a brooding silence.

When it appeared she had nothing more to say, Marietta prompted her, “Why do you feel the need to come to Sea Breeze? You have so many options. Money isn’t a problem. You could move anywhere. Imogene . . . my friend . . . what’s got you so shaken?”

Imogene’s eyes watered and she brought her hand to her lips. The coral polish was chipped. “I feel lost,” Imogene said softly. “For the first time in my life.”

“Lost? How so?”

“You know very well how I feel,” Imogene said reproachfully. “When your husband died . . . I’m sorry, what was his name?”

“Edward.”

“Yes, when Edward died. Didn’t you feel lost?”

“Yes, I did.” Marietta recalled the deep depression she’d slipped into after his death, so close after the loss of her son. She’d felt she was drowning in her sorrow. Lucille had saved her with her trademark compassion, care, and unwavering diligence. She wouldn’t let Mamaw go under.

“You had a good marriage, didn’t you? Happy?”

“As happy as can be expected. Naturally we had our ups and downs.”

“But of course you did,” Imogene said impatiently. “No couple can be married for some fifty years and not have ups and downs. Hell, even thirty years. A long marriage can be a battlefield. We had bloody blowups, I can tell you. There were times I hated Jeffrey. Wished he would just die. I’d be free without the scandal of a divorce.” She laughed shortly. “I can’t count the times I’d planned to leave him. And he me. He cheated on me, you know. Several times. He felt somehow entitled to a bit of dalliance, don’t you know. His own father did, and his father did the same thing to his wife before him. We wives are meant to look the other way. Excuse their flirting about as simply a man’s way. The self-important pricks,” Imogene muttered under her breath. “I suppose that’s what happens when a man’s wealthy and successful and powerful in his business. And has a title to boot.”

“ ‘Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely.’ ”

“Oh, I couldn’t agree more.” Imogene nodded vehemently. “Jeffrey was decent enough looking, to be sure. But it’s that other stuff that was the aphrodisiac to young women. We muddled through, however. Age has a marvelous way of mellowing one, doesn’t it? In the end, we found great comfort in each other’s company. The reward of perseverance.” Imogene picked lint from the towel. “I admired him. Jeffrey was a brilliant man.” She stilled her hand and looked vacantly at the pool. “Then came the Alzheimer’s. It’s a dreadful disease. I hate it. It stole Jeffrey from me. Not all at once. Bit by bit. It’s terrible to watch
a luminous mind implode like a black star and not be able to do a single thing to stop it.” Her voice broke and she reached for her water bottle.

Marietta felt her own eyes moisten at Imogene’s unexpected display of emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

“I am, too.” Imogene sipped water, then licked her lips. As she screwed the top back on the bottle, her voice grew thin. “That wasn’t the worst of it, though.”

Marietta leaned forward to hear her voice, which had grown as soft as a breeze.

“I did my best to care for him at Greenfields Park. I hired a full-time nurse. A nutritionist. Therapists. No expense was spared. I thought if I couldn’t cure the disease, I might be able to slow it down a little. At the very least make Jeffrey comfortable and feel safe. They get quite frightened at times, you know. When they don’t remember things or get lost. These things I was prepared for. There are loads of books published on the subject. I must have read them all.

“What I wasn’t prepared for were the small daily hurts.” Imogene paused in recollection. “Jeffrey was a publisher, you know. Years back. He was a very fast reader. Had an extensive library. Reading was his world. I’d watch him as he sat and read. He’d set the book down, then pick it up again a bit later and begin reading from the beginning. Over and over. He didn’t remember what he’d just read. It was painful to watch. Eventually he stopped reading altogether. He couldn’t make sense of the words. A part of him died that day.” Her lips trembled. “And a part of me died the day he didn’t know who I was.”

“Oh, Imogene,” Marietta said with feeling.

She waved away the sympathy. “In the last two years, he
deteriorated rapidly. You recall I couldn’t bring him here last summer. Nor the Hamptons before that. He loved going there. Loved the sea.” She smiled wistfully. “He would have liked it here, too. He’d have called the scenery primitive.” She laughed at Marietta’s expression. “Jeffrey was a terrible snob, you know. If it wasn’t British, it wasn’t up to snuff.” There was a small pause. “He was also fastidious about his personal habits. A spot on his cuff would drive him to distraction. So imagine the horror I felt for him when he dropped his pants in the middle of the front hall and relieved himself. He proceeded to remove the rest of his clothing and refused to put them on again. There was quite a struggle. He’d decided he liked being stark naked.” Imogene laughed, but there was sorrow in it. “I knew then that I’d reached the end of what I was able to provide. He needed more. He had to go to a Memory Center.”

Imogene adjusted her position in the chair, trying to find a comfortable spot. When settled, she folded her hands on the table and looked at them. “That place is his home now. The people who care for him are the ones who matter. They’re his family now. There’s no place for me there. I’m no longer important to him. He doesn’t even know me.” She brought her fingers to her cheek as though seeing the scene again. “Driving away that morning, leaving him there . . . it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” She looked up and her eyes were watery. “I’ve lost my purpose. My rudder. I feel adrift.”

Marietta rose to come to her side. She lay her hand on Imogene’s shoulder, felt the sharp bone beneath the towel. “Of course you were right to come here. To Sea Breeze. Not only to Harper. But to Taylor. And to me. In time, you will find your strength again, but until then you need the comfort of family
and friends. We’re here for you, my dear friend. You belong here. With us. At Sea Breeze.”

Imogene was listening, her eyes wide and vulnerable.

Marietta smiled with encouragement. “After all, isn’t that what a wedding is all about? The gathering of family. The sharing of stories. The linking of arms. For better or for worse.”

Imogene choked back a teary laugh. “Till death do us part.”

“Let’s not go that far! It’s a bit too close to home. Come dear, let’s get dressed. The girls are expecting us to be at our best. We mustn’t disappoint. The wedding must go on!”

A young bride looks sweet in a cloud of white tulle. But a bride in her thirties or older would do well to choose a creamy or off-white color. As would, perhaps, a woman who is already sharing a home with her intended.

D
ora, Carson, and Harper parked the car in the lot and walked along the crooked sidewalk on East Bay through the bustling crowd. Spring was in full flower and Charleston was a destination city for vacations. Tourists fled the snowy North and were hell-bent on wearing shorts, T-shirts, and flip-flops, even in the city.

The Muir girls, however, wore dresses and heels. Harper even wore a hat. They were all in a festive mood, helped along by the champagne—and sparkling cider for Carson and Harper—that they’d consumed at SalonSalon hair salon, where they’d tried out hairstyles for the wedding. Feeling primped and pretty, they strolled down King Street, going from the hair
salon to Studio R to pick up their printed thank-you notes, then straight on to Croghan’s jewelry store, one of the oldest jewelers in the city, to pick up the grooms’ rings.

Shopping in Charleston always meant a fun day. Boutiques, antiques stores, jewelers, great restaurants, cobbled streets oozing charm and history. Shopping for a wedding dress, however, makes the day stellar. And that’s just what the girls intended to do later that afternoon.