A Lowcountry Wedding (49 page)

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!”

I
t 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.

T
his 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.