A Lowcountry Wedding (16 page)

“But it’s not true.”

“It’s not a lie if you actually are the minister at the weddings. You’ll be able to meet the girls and act as their counselor. It will involve talking to the girls, meeting their fiancés, spending time with them.” Marietta straightened her shoulders and said in utmost seriousness, “Reverend Green, I’m asking you to marry my granddaughters. Will you?”

“They’re not members of my church.” Atticus was grasping for an excuse.

“We both know you can get around that for special occasions.”

“I don’t know. . . . It would mean being involved in a lie.”

“Say yes to marrying them. Then it’s not a lie. It’s an omission.”

“Which is also a sin.”

“We are not deceiving them. We are simply withholding certain information. Temporarily.”

Atticus looked at her askance. “That’s the definition of a sin of omission.”

Marietta tossed her hands up in frustration. “Let’s not split hairs, Atticus,” she entreated. “Please don’t be obstinate. You forget how important it is to me to have you be a part of the weddings. You’re my grandson. And I’ve only just met you.”

He felt the emotion in her words and had to admit, he felt them, too.

Her voice quivering, she continued softly, “You see, I will need time to fully comprehend all this, too.” He thought she might cry, but she rallied, forcing a gallant smile. “Oh, but you’re here now.”

Marietta rose, came to his side, and sat beside him. “Dear boy, we must choose a course of action. You started the ball rolling by coming to Sea Breeze and knocking on my door. We cannot turn back from the truth now.” She took his hands. “We must be strong. Together. Either we tell the girls right now who you are and let the chips fall where they may—”

He shook his head. “No.”

“—
or
I introduce you as the minister who will preside over their weddings and we give all of you time to get to know each other first. Which will it be?”

Atticus released his hands and crossed his arms. This was one strong and determined woman, he thought. She reminded him of his mother. He knew that he could—maybe even should—get up and walk out and never see any of them again. She held no authority over him. And yet . . . remembering the warmth of her welcome, the longing in her eyes, his gut instinct
was to go along with her plan, at least for the time being. She was his grandmother. That was the unarguable fact. Plus, he felt an odd alliance with this woman, this stranger who was his father’s mother. Did the ties of blood overcome his objections?

Atticus closed his eyes and prayed for guidance. He didn’t believe in doing the wrong thing for all the right reasons. Yet this didn’t feel like the wrong thing. Or at least, not a bad thing. In truth, he did want to meet his half sisters. Talk to them, get to know them. But he wasn’t ready to declare himself their brother. By agreeing to be their minister, he could get to know them slowly, give them—and himself—time to form opinions without the shock of their father’s infidelity and a surprise brother popping up. Not right before their weddings. When looking at the situation from this light, the plan felt more like a kindness.

“If I agree,” he said warily, “will you agree to wait until I say I am ready to tell them the truth about being their brother?”

Marietta’s eyes shone with the light of expectant victory. “I agree.”

Atticus stared at Marietta as a wry smile crossed his face. “I’m guessing you win a lot.”

“Me?” she asked innocently. “Why, Atticus, I’m just a li’l old lady.”

Soon everyone will be in wedding mode. Aka hysteria.

M
amaw? Are you here?”

Marietta’s and Atticus’s heads both swung toward the sound of the voice, then toward each other in silent agreement. Atticus felt his insides do a slight flip—he wasn’t sure if he was quite ready to play the role they’d only just created.

A moment later a woman strolled into the room, an enormous black dog at her heels. Atticus was alert and immediately sized up the dog—was it friendly or a guard dog? But he needn’t have worried. On catching sight of him in the living room, the woman immediately turned and gave the dog the order to stay. To his relief, the gargantuan animal dropped to the floor at the entrance—though not without a sorry whine—and put his head in his paws.

“Harper!” Marietta exclaimed, and opened her arms.

So this was his half sister, Atticus thought as he watched her
come to her grandmother’s side and place a kiss on Marietta’s upturned cheek.

“I want you to meet someone,” Marietta said, indicating Atticus.

As he rose to his feet, Atticus’s stomach tightened under the appraising gaze of this stranger, his half sister. He braced himself for another round of startled recognition of their father, but it didn’t come.

“This is the Reverend Atticus Green,” Marietta said, delivering a megawatt smile toward him that spoke clearly of her expectations. “Atticus, this is my granddaughter Harper Muir-James. One of the brides-to-be.”

She stepped closer and suddenly he was looking into eyes the exact color of his own. Hands were extended and he caught a glimpse of an enormous diamond on her slender finger. They murmured greetings in the usual polite manner.

“Atticus is an old family friend,” Marietta continued. “Very dear.” She turned to Harper. “I have a surprise for you.”

“I love surprises.” Harper’s eyes sparkled.

You have no idea,
Atticus thought to himself as he rocked on his heels. He looked at Marietta, his eyes pulsing with the message
Do not tell her who I am
.

Marietta said, “I wrote to Atticus and asked a favor of him, if he would please come to Charleston to marry you and Carson. And he has agreed! Isn’t that just too wonderful?”

Harper was momentarily stunned by the unexpected announcement. Then her face lit up with astonishment. “Really?”

Atticus managed a stiff smile and a nod of his head.

Marietta, in contrast, was at ease. “You know how we worried about who would officiate. And now we have our answer.
Atticus drove all the way here from Atlanta to meet you and Carson.”

Harper put her hand to her heart. “I’m speechless. I’m so happy! So you’ll really marry us?”

Atticus swallowed. “Yes.”

It was done. One word and he’d tied himself to the story that would bind him for the next few months.

Harper clasped her hands together. “That’s super! Amazing, actually. Mamaw!” Harper turned on her heel to face Marietta. “Why didn’t you tell us you had this card up your sleeve? You clever old girl.”

“I didn’t want to make the announcement until Atticus agreed.” Marietta cast a searching glance his way.

A furrow creased Harper’s smooth brow. “I’m not a member of any church. Is that a problem?”

Atticus shook his head. “No. I’m a Baptist minister, but it shouldn’t be.”

Harper sighed. “What a relief. I didn’t want to get married by a justice of the peace. And if you’re a family friend, it makes it all the more special, doesn’t it? I don’t know many people here, you see. I moved here from New York only a year ago. Most of my family is in England.”

“You’re a Muir, dear,” Mamaw reminded her. “You have family connections here.”

“But I don’t really know them. Nor they me. Did you talk to Granny James about this?” Harper turned to Atticus. “My grandmother is giving the wedding. Her name is Imogene, but we call her Granny James. She’ll be flying in from England soon, and I can’t imagine she’ll have any objections.”

Mamaw scoffed, “I should think not. And, no, I didn’t talk to
her about it yet. This is my contribution to your wedding. She’s been rather miserly about sharing duties, after all.”

“Now, Mamaw.” Harper cast an embarrassed glance toward Atticus. Apparently this was a tender subject. “You’re throwing the wedding for Carson. It’s all decided.”

“Yes, well. There are things I can help with, being here and all. And don’t you have a say? Are you happy with the arrangement?”

“Very.”

“Then it’s decided. Atticus will say the service.” Marietta sniffed. “Unless Imogene’s bringing a member of the clergy in tow from England.”

“She’s not.” Harper laughed lightly. She turned to Atticus. After a brief pause she tilted her head. “How are you a family friend, by the way? Are you a relative of Lucille’s?”

Atticus was caught unawares. Lucille? Who was Lucille? The first stumble already. Atticus turned to Marietta with a challenging stare.

“He’s met Lucille, of course,” Marietta jumped in smoothly. “Long before she died.” Marietta stressed that important point to Atticus. “But that’s not the connection. Atticus’s mother, Zora, was a great friend of Parker’s.”

“My father’s?”

Atticus prudently kept silent.

“Yes,” Mamaw replied evenly. “Zora Green is a writer, too.” She lowered her head in respect. “Or was, may she rest in peace. While she was alive, we kept up over the years, Christmas cards and such. Not nearly as much as we should have. But I thought of Atticus when you were searching for a minister and”—Mamaw paused and held out her arms—“here we are!”

The answer seemed enough to satisfy Harper. She turned to Atticus, her smile radiating warmth. “I’m so delighted. And Carson will be thrilled.”

Atticus thought to himself how the young woman had not an ounce of guile. The genuineness of her joy was endearing. Yet beneath the smile she had a sophistication and innate grace that revealed class. This was the young woman who had purchased Sea Breeze from her grandmother, after all. No small change could have done that.

“Does Carson know?” Harper asked.

“Not yet,” Marietta replied breezily. “He’s only just arrived. Where is she, by the way?”

“Out on the dock. Again. Probably yearning for Delphine.”

“Go fetch her, will you?” asked Marietta. “I’d like her to meet Atticus.”

“You’ll love Carson,” Harper said to him. “Everyone does. Be right back.”

Harper turned and hurried from the room, clapping her hands for the dog to follow her. He leaped to his feet and trotted happily behind.

Marietta smiled broadly, clearly pleased with the turn of events.

“She’s lovely,” Atticus said.

“I told you. Each of them are. Are you sure you don’t want to tell them?”

“Yes,” he said firmly.

“Oh, very well.” Disappointment flooded Marietta’s features. She went to the sofa and sat, fingers tapping her lap.

Atticus walked around the room, filling the empty silence
with random questions about the art on the walls. With relief, a short while later they heard footfalls in the hall. Both of them turned toward the noise expectantly.

Harper entered, followed by a taller, striking woman of uncommon beauty. This must be Carson, he realized. She was a study in contrasts with Harper with raven hair and a southwestern-chic style of dress. But as she drew near, he saw the same blue eyes that he now knew were dominant in the Muir line. Those eyes studied him with cool appraisal.

To usher Carson closer, Harper held out her arm, acting as if she and Atticus were already old friends. “Carson”—she waved her sister closer—“come meet Reverend Green, an old friend of Mamaw’s. But we call him Atticus.”

Carson walked closer with long strides and held out her hand. “So you’re the man who’s going to marry us?”

A bold move, he thought, appreciating it. He took her hand. “If that’s okay with you?”

Her handshake was firm and he liked that she looked him straight in the eye. He could tell that she was recognizing the eye color, working it out in her mind, but her smile remained in place as she politely withdrew her hand.

“It’s okay with me,” she said nonchalantly. “You should know I’m not much of a churchgoer.”

“So I’ve been told.”

She ventured a curious smile at that. “And I’ve been told you’re a Baptist minister.”

“Southern Baptist,” he confirmed.

“One’s the same as another. Blake’s family is Baptist,” Carson said. “They’ll be pleased as punch.”

Atticus held his tongue. He didn’t want to get into an argument about her comment “one’s the same as another,” at least not yet.

“Shall we all sit down? I’ll make coffee,” Marietta offered.

“Mamaw”—Harper reached out to stall her with a soft touch on her arm—“I’m sorry but Carson and I have an appointment at the bakery. To taste the cakes. We have to leave.” Harper looked at Atticus. “I’m so sorry to cut out on you.”

Atticus wasn’t sorry. He was relieved. “No, that’s all right. I have to leave anyway. I need to go and check into a hotel.”

“Where are you staying?” Harper asked with alacrity.

“I don’t know yet.”

“Stay here! With us,” Harper exclaimed.

Carson swung her head to deliver her sister a hard stare of warning.

Atticus immediately backtracked, “No, I couldn’t impose.”

“It’s no imposition at all, really. We have loads of room,” Harper said, ignoring Carson. “Well, at least until the weekend when my grandmother arrives.”

Atticus glanced at Carson in her pale blue shirt regarding him from under furrowed brows. She was clearly wrestling with the invitation. He looked at Marietta, and her eyes were shining with reassurance, even hope, that he would accept, reminding him of her warm and sincere welcome.