A Lowcountry Wedding (11 page)

All couples have issues to get through. That’s what marriage is all about. Taking the good and bad, the hard and easy. And making it work.

M
arch is a mercurial month in the lowcountry, but as promised, the rain and wind blew off island during the night. The sun rose on clear skies and warmer weather than the residents had experienced so far this spring. Carson opened her eyes and stretched languidly. The sheets were warm and scented of love. Sighing, she patted her hand on the mattress beside her. Blake’s side was empty. Fear fluttered through her. She kicked off her sheet and in a mild panic half rose to let her gaze dart around the room. Soft breezes from the open window caressed her naked skin.

“You’re awake.”

Her gaze shifted to follow Blake’s voice. He stood at the
door carrying a tray. She let her eyes feast on his long, lean frame as her body slumped softly with relief. “You’re here.”

“Where else would I be?” He walked toward her.

Carson didn’t reply. When she’d found the bed empty, she felt a sudden terror that he’d left her.

Blake was already dressed in his usual khakis and dark green polo shirt bearing the logo of NOAA. She thought to herself that if he lived in Los Angeles, he’d likely wear black jeans and a tight T-shirt to show off his swimmer’s body. She chuckled to herself, knowing Blake would never be so fashion-forward. Blake put on his clothes in the morning without thought. From the moment he woke up, his mind focused on getting outdoors as quickly as possible. Blake had a long waist with taut and sinewy muscles across his chest, shoulders, and arms from hours spent on the ocean, not the gym. The scent of the sea, mud, salt, these were home to him. Like her, he needed to be near the water and spent as much time as he could out on the waterways researching the animals that lived in the depths. Blake was a marine mammal specialist at NOAA, and their shared love of dolphins had initially cemented their relationship.

She smiled up at him as he set a tray on the bed beside her.

“Merci,”
she said, letting her fingers stroke his hand.

She gathered her long dark hair in her hands and pulled the locks from her face, remembering with a flush the long afternoon and longer night of talking, arguing, and making love. She gave him a slanted look. “I feel rode hard and put up wet.”

She got the hoped-for smug smile as he straightened and caught her gaze.

Carson hid her own smile of satisfaction by looking down at the tray. He’d remembered her favorites. Wheat toast, yogurt, fresh berries, coffee.

But, oh, she needed water.

“I’m parched,” she said in a raspy voice. “I’m so dry I can barely speak. Could I have some water? You’ve run me dry, boy.”

She detected another faint smile of self-satisfaction as he ducked out of the room. She sipped the coffee, and in a moment he returned. Hobbs pushed past him into the room, trotting to the bed, and immediately began sniffing the sheets with keen interest. Carson giggled as Blake shoved him away with a gruff “No.” Hobbs backed off with a snort of displeasure and sat a few feet away, staring at Carson with baleful eyes.

Blake handed Carson a tall glass of icy water. “I’m pretty sure when a dog snorts like that it’s dog language for ‘Fuck you.’ ”

Carson laughed, then drank thirstily. Again, she felt a breeze flutter the curtains and slide across her body like water.

Blake sat on the bed beside her. She felt the dip in the mattress with his weight, then his cool hand as it slid across her body. “I’ve missed seeing you in my bed.”

“Oh, I’ve missed this, too. You by my side. The soft island breezes. I slept like I haven’t slept since I left.”

He snorted. “I should hope not.”

“When you let me sleep, I should say.”

He leaned forward to kiss her. The moment lips met the spark ignited, as it always did for them. She felt the telltale trembling of his lips as his tongue pushed hers open.

“No, no, no,” she whimpered, pushing him back. “I don’t have the energy. Or the time. They’re expecting us for lunch.”

He released her, but still leaning close, his dark eyes searched hers. “Carson . . .” He hesitated, and his tone implied he wanted to talk.

“Yes?” She picked up a slice of toast. She bit into the buttery bread, using the action to disguise her sudden wariness.

Blake pushed back and placed his palms on his thighs. “We need to talk.”

She knew that look on his face. She felt her guard go up. “I thought we’d done enough talking.”

“You took off your ring.”

Carson glanced at her ring finger, barren of the diamond. “We’re still engaged. Sort of. We’re going to be promised to each other. While we work things out. No pressure.”

“Last night when we were exhausted, it seemed a decent compromise. But in the light of day . . . What the hell does
promised
even mean? We’re sort of engaged? We’re promised to do what? That puts us in limbo.” Blake shook his head, moving his dark curls, longer now after a winter’s growth. “I can’t do that.”

“But we said—”

“I can’t face them.”

“Who?”

“Your family. I can’t go to Sea Breeze and be with your family and talk weddings as if it’s all going to happen when you’re not wearing my ring.”

“But we went through this.” Carson sat up. “I’m still wearing your ring. Around my neck.”

“Not on your finger. Not in a way that matters.” Blake shook his head. “The way I see it, we’re either engaged. Or we’re not.”

“I don’t see why you’re making a federal case of this.”
She felt her fuse light up. “It’s up to you. I have a job offer. It will take me away for a few months and it’ll pay well. Then I’m home again. I’m okay with that. Lots of married couples are separated for a while.”

“Not me. Not for months at a time. We both know the temptations you’ll face. And when you come back, how long will you be home? How long before you accept the next job? And the next?”

“We’ll have to work out the ground rules. I’ll only take one or two jobs a year depending on the length. No more than a few months at one time.”

“That’s what you told me about this last job. Four months. You swore by it. But it took six.”

Carson flushed. There was no denying it, but she was tired of apologizing for it. “So I’ll only take one job a year.”

“I don’t want to have a marriage where my wife is gone for six months of the year. I don’t want to take those odds.”

Carson raked her hair with her fingers, then clutched it in fists while she counted to ten. He was being unreasonable. They sat across from each other, stiff shouldered, eyes blazing. “And I don’t want to sit around jobless. I told you that. I can’t. I won’t,” she said emphatically. She dropped her hands. “Why should I be the one to give up my career? You could move to California, you know.”

He reached out to take her hand. “I know,” he said in a low voice.

When he lowered his tone, it immediately diffused the tension between them. Blake could cool quickly, and in doing so, he could always bring her down from the edge as well. It was a gift, she knew. One she appreciated. He managed wildlife
as readily as he did the humans who worked under him with that same calm and easy manner. But she’d seen his temper flare, too. When he got truly angry, he was formidable. He could be terribly stubborn. As, she knew, could she. Harper referred to them as Scarlett and Rhett.

“Here’s the thing,” he said in that soothing tone of voice. “I’ve thought about this all morning.”

She looked into his face. His brown eyes appeared so black she couldn’t tell where the pupils ended and the irises began.

“We have things to work out,” he acknowledged. “Our schedules may be tough to manage. But all couples have issues to get through. That’s what marriage is all about. Taking the good and bad, the hard and easy. And making it work. The way I see it, if we can’t get through this now, then what’s the point of being engaged or promised or whatever you want to call it? On the other hand, if we love each other, and we want to be together, to get married, you should wear the ring and together we’ll figure something out. We have time. Then, if we can’t find a solution we can live with”—he shrugged in the Gallic manner—“then you can give the ring back to me before the wedding and we’ll call it all off for good.”

Carson could only stare back, mute. The thought of breaking her engagement had crossed her mind. But the reality of it was too cold. She shivered.

Blake saw her reaction and took both her hands. “But I don’t believe that will happen. Because I love you, Carson Muir. And I believe you love me.”

“I do,” she said softly though urgently.

“We’ve been through worse.”

Carson’s mind whirled back through a series of traumas
that she’d fought her way through the past year. And each time Blake was there, enduring it all with her.

“Yes, we have.”

“Have faith, Carson. Wear my ring.”

Carson smiled tremulously. She stretched far across the bed to the small marble-topped bedside table to grasp the diamond-and-sapphire ring that Blake had given her the previous September. The ring she’d removed during the night with the intention of slipping it on a chain and wearing it around her neck. She was unaware of the beautiful, long line her slender, athletic body presented to Blake, but she felt his hand once again slide across her curves. Sitting back up, she held the ring between two fingers. Then, in one movement, she slid the ring back onto her left ring finger and smiled up at him.

“Carson!” Harper exclaimed, grinning wide. “You’re here!”

Carson looked much the same as she had the previous fall. Tall and exotic with her long dark hair, brilliant sapphire-blue eyes, and her finely tuned body that turned heads wherever she went. Yet she appeared different, too. The restlessness had settled and her manner had a new softness. She wore no makeup yet had the glow of a woman well loved.

“You look beautiful. Rested. It must’ve been an easy trip.”

“I caught some z’s on the plane.” Carson moved through the open door into the house, her eyes scanning Harper. “You look different, too. Less sleek New York and more French country. I like it. Careful, though. Don’t go too Suzy Homemaker on me.”

“I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere,” Blake said to Harper, stepping into the house.

“Harper knows I swing from the hip, don’t you, Sis?”

“I do.” Harper laughed, closing the door behind them. Carson was always honest, sometimes brutally so.

Carson leaned forward to give her sister a hug, then pulled back and asked, “Where’s Mamaw?”

“Oh, she’s here somewhere. Probably in her cottage. She’ll be up in a minute.”

“The cottage?” Carson asked with surprise.

“Yes.” Harper paused to kiss Blake and offer him a hug, then turned to Carson. “Mamaw moved into the cottage. I thought you knew that.”

“No,” Carson said coldly. “Why would she move into the cottage? This is her house.”

Harper’s smile fell, replaced by stunned surprise.

Carson immediately realized her mistake and quickly amended, “I mean, it’s
your
house, of course. But it’s still her house, too. In a way. I mean . . .” She let her words slide away feeling sure her meaning was understood.

Harper’s stare was defensive, as was the stiffness of her smile. “I would never ask Mamaw to move to the cottage,” she said with some heat. “In fact, I begged her not to. But she insisted. And you know Mamaw when she’s made up her mind.”

Carson grinned wryly. “That Muir stubbornness.”

Harper paused, assuaged a bit by the humor. “She said she wanted to have a smaller space of her own. Mamaw has free rein of the house, of course. She comes and goes as she pleases. She still likes to sit on the back porch, the same queen as always.” Harper’s tone grew thoughtful. “But more and more, I find her sitting on the porch of the cottage, rocking, reading a book. I think she finds comfort there, where Lucille lived.”

“But isn’t it, I don’t know . . . weird? Sleeping in her room?”

“At first, maybe. But not anymore.” Harper met Carson’s gaze squarely. “This is
my
home, after all.”

There it was. The line in the sand. The house now belonged to Harper. She’d bought it free and clear. In doing so, she’d not only provided Mamaw the opportunity to remain at Sea Breeze rather than move into a retirement community alone, but the generous purchase offer had provided Mamaw a comfortable income to live on for as long as she lived. It was extraordinarily fortunate for all of them that the house could remain in the family.

The tension was broken when Taylor entered the foyer, a huge black dog at his heels. Blake and Taylor greeted each other warmly, leaning forward to slap backs and mutter words of welcome. They were both tall, but the resemblance ended there. Taylor was broad shouldered and muscled and bore the upright stance of a man who’d spent years in the Marines. When Harper had first met Taylor, his hair had been shorn close to the scalp. Now the light brown hair was longer at the top and she’d been amused to see it had a slight wave.

“Carson!” Taylor stepped forward to wrap her in his strong arms for a firm hug. “Good to see you again. Welcome home. Here to stay now, are you?”