Lessons of a Lowcountry Summer (28 page)

She took a step. “How do you know this?”

“I have my sources. All I'll say is the headline for next week's
Chatterer
will read: I Lied about Dr. Hope.”

She covered her mouth with trembling hands and fell against Theo. If he hadn't caught her, she would have fallen. She couldn't believe it. Did not want to believe it. It had taken one week for her world to be turned upside down and then righted.

Tears of joy filled her eyes but did not fall. “Tell me, Theo. I need to know.”

He led her over to the chaise, sat, and then eased her down to sit between his outstretched legs. “His name is Otis Pratt. He's nothing more than a predator. He manages to find a way to get himself invited to upscale social events, where he spots his target, then goes in for the kill. It doesn't matter if they are men or women. He will usually steal from women and blackmail men. It appears your ex-boyfriend refused to pay him to keep his mouth shut about his bisexuality, so he decided he could make more money by selling his story to the
Chatterer
for five thousand dollars.”

“Five thousand dollars! He ruined my reputation for a stinking five thousand!”

Theo shrugged a shoulder. “People have killed others for less.”

“What else did your ‘source' tell you?”

“Nothing else,” he lied smoothly.

Jay's East Coast people had found Otis Pratt strolling out of a luxury apartment building on Central Park South. It had taken less than five minutes of several well-aimed blows to the midsection for Otis to regurgitate not only his dinner but also all of his scams. A
Chatterer
reporter had been present, tape recorder in hand, when Otis had recanted his story. Otis's next visitors had been from the NYPD, who'd handcuffed him and read him his rights.

She smiled up at him. “How can I thank you, friend?”

He flashed a lecherous smile. “I can think of a few ways.”

Curving her arms around his neck, Hope kissed him. Not the wildly passionate kisses they'd shared before but a warm, soft, healing kiss. “I'm going to miss you so much,” she whispered against his lips.

Theo stared at her under lowered lids. “Not as much as I'm going to miss you. Will you come see the kids before we leave?”

“I can't.” Biting down on her lower lip, she blinked back tears. “It would get sloppy, Theo. And that's not how I want them to remember me.”

His dark gaze moved slowly over her face, committing it to memory. “This is how I want to remember you.” Lowering his head, he kissed her. His mouth moved down the column of her neck. “And like this.” His marauding mouth tasted every inch of bared flesh until Hope moaned under the onslaught.

“Come inside,” she gasped.

Theo stood up, cradling her to his chest. He carried her into the house and to the bed where he had given her his heart. They took their time undressing each other, but being apart for more than a week increased their hunger for the other.

He loved her with his body and his soul. Her soft moans and sighs as he pushed into her yielding flesh ignited a fire that refused to go out. He mapped her body with his tongue, sweeping away the memory of any other man who had glimpsed or touched her flesh. His hands sculpted the fullness of her breasts, hips. He breathed in the very essence that made Hope who she was, and when she cried out for release, he increased his thrusts until they reached the pinnacle of ecstasy that held them captive before hurtling them down into an abyss of passion that lingered well beyond their coupling.

Theo felt Hope withdraw before he eased out of her warm body. She turned her back. “Good-bye, Theo.”

He sat there, staring at the flawless skin of her back and hips, the curve of her spine. He slipped off the bed. She was making it easy for him. “Good-bye, Hope.”

Hope listened to Theo pull on his clothes, and when silence enveloped the room, she turned over. He was gone.

“I love you,” she whispered as tears spilled over and dotted the pillow under her head.

 

 

Hope signed off, smiling. She and Theo usually “talked” every day via instant messages or by e-mails. The three-hour time difference made telephone calls a bit more difficult.

She stared at the clock. It was midnight on the East Coast. In another five hours she would check into an Upper East Side hospital for a procedure to remove the lesions in her uterus.

Walking over to her bed, she knelt on the floor, covered her face with her hands and did something she hadn't done in a very long time. She prayed.

 

“Hope. Wake up, honey.”

Hope struggled to open her eyes, but her lids seemed weighted. She heard the steady beeps from the machines monitoring her vitals. She tried again to wake up.

“Hope, sweetheart.”

Her lids fluttered. The voice was familiar. “Yess-ss,” she slurred.

“Wake up, darling.”

“Theo?” She felt the firm softness of his mouth on her parched lips and then his hand closing over hers.

“Yes.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to make certain you're really okay.”

A dreamy smile curved her mouth. “Thanks.”

This time when her eyes opened, they did not close. It really was Theo. The last time she'd seen him he'd worn a beard. Now he was clean-shaven. Her fingertips touched his chin.

“I shaved it right after I got through instant messaging you last night.”

She smiled. “Why?”

He returned her smile. “When you told me you were ready for any and everything, I took that as a sign that you'd be willing to put up with me and the rest of my neurotic household for the next forty or fifty years.”

“Are you asking me to marry you, Theodore Howell?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you. I already asked your parents' permission.”

“What did they say?”

“Ask them yourself.”

Theo motioned to Patrick and Flora to come closer. Hope smiled at her parents. “What did you say, Daddy?”

“I told him that he'd better be good to my baby—”

“No, he didn't,” Flora interrupted. “He said yes.”

Hope closed her eyes. “And what did you say, Mama?”

Flora flashed Theo a wide grin. “I told him of course.”

Reaching into the pocket of his slacks, Theo withdrew a ring and slipped it on Hope's left hand.

She peered closely at it. “It's beautiful.”

“You're beautiful,” he crooned, bending over and kissing her again before he sat down on a chair beside her bed. “I'm going to close on a little place in Charleston the beginning of November. We'll be living four blocks from Lee and Rebecca.”

“That's wonderful.”

“Where do you want to get married?”

Sighing, she closed her eyes again. “McKinnon Island.”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

“I have something to tell you, Theo.”

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

He chuckled softly. “I know.”

“How did you know?”

“Rebecca told me.”

Hope opened her eyes. “I never told her I loved you.”

“Maybe it was women's intuition?”

“Maybe it was. Help me sit up. I need to get out of this place. I have to plan a wedding.”

“When do you want to marry?”

“Anytime around Christmas.”

Theo's smile was dazzling. “On the beach?”

“Yes.”

Theo sat her up, and she curved her arms around his neck, holding him tightly. When he'd left McKinnon Island, he'd realized he had left a small part of himself there. And that was the woman he held to his heart. She had taught him that love was quiet and patient.

Flora pulled her husband's sleeve and led him out of the room. “Let them have their time together before the family descends on him.”

Patrick rolled his eyes upward. “You don't think Junior and Bobby are going to do the same thing to him that they did to Trey?”

Flora laid her head on her husband's shoulder. “I doubt it. Theo may be smooth as peanut butter, but something tells me he can hold his own with those two thugs you call sons.”

“I'll have you know my boys aren't thugs, Flora Robinson-Sutton. I just brought them up to take care of their sisters.”

“And they have,” she crooned softly. “Just like you've taken care of me.”

Patrick patted her hand. “I would do nothing less for my Gullah Queen.”

Flora stared at him, then whispered something in his ear.

“What did you say?”

She gave him a sassy smile. “Learn Gullah, city man.”

Both were laughing as they went into the waiting room to wait for their future son-in-law to bring their firstborn baby girl home.

 

 

H
ope sagged against the wall.
She couldn't believe it. It couldn't have happened so quickly.

She hadn't seen her period in November, which meant she was about six weeks along.

“What is it?” came Marissa's voice behind the closed door.

“I'm going to do it again.”

“How many times do you have to do it? Either you are or you aren't. Open the damn door and let me see.” Hope opened the door. Marissa crowded into the tiny bathroom. She took the wand from her sister's hand, her eyes widening. “You are! You're pregnant!”

“Shh-hh! Don't say anything.”

Marissa clapped her hands over her mouth and screamed through. “When are you going to tell Theo?”

“After we're married, of course.”

“Which should happen in exactly twenty minutes. Come and get dressed. It's bad luck to keep your groom waiting.”

Hope followed Marissa out of the bathroom and into the room where she'd slept and made love with Theo four months before. She smiled at her sisters-in-law and Rebecca.

“Are you all right?” Rebecca asked.

“I'm wonderful.”

And she was. She was marrying a man she loved, a man whose child was growing beneath her heart. She had stayed in New Jersey with her parents while she'd recuperated, then moved to Charleston after Theo had closed on what he'd called his little house. The house had six bedrooms, eight baths, a three-car garage, an in-ground pool, and a tennis court set on six acres. She'd been reunited with Helen, Christian, Brandon and Noelle in what had become a tearful, festive celebration.

Every other weekend the house was either empty or filled with children when the Andersons and the younger Owenses alternated sleepovers. It was on the weekends, when the house was empty, that Hope and Theo slept together. Sleeping in separate bedrooms served to increased their desire for each other.

Rebecca held up a Vera Wang gown of luxurious off-white satin. Long-sleeved, cut on a bias with a squared neckline, it was a rhapsody of romance and modern grace. Instead of a veil, Hope had chosen to wear tiny white rosebuds and a feathered flower in her upswept hairdo.

“I can't believe you've gained that much weight in two weeks,” Rebecca remarked as she zipped up the back of the dress.

“Is it too tight?” Hope asked.

“No. In fact, it fits better now than it did before. All you need is your shoes, and you're ready to meet your groom.”

Bobby's wife handed her a pair of off-white satin pumps, while Junior's wife dabbed her face with a powder puff. Marissa touched up her lipstick. Rebecca handed her a bouquet of burgundy and white roses with white velvet ribbons as streamers.

Hope peered into the full-length mirror. “Am I ready?”

Rebecca's reflection appeared in the mirror. “Are you, girlfriend?”

She turned and smiled at the four women. “Yes, I am. Lil Sis, go get Daddy.”

A minute later Patrick Sutton walked into the bedroom, his mouth gaping. “Oh, baby, you look beautiful.”

Hope's chin quivered. “Daddy, please don't make me cry.”

Patrick offered his arm, and she placed her hand on his sleeve. “Let's go get you married.”

Rebecca preceded them as they made their way down to the beach, where a small crowd had gathered to witness the marriage of Hope Sutton to Theodore Howell. Theo and Christian stood off to the side, watching and waiting for the bride.

Hope smiled at Janie and Thomas Smith, Charlotte Field, who refused to throw away her tobacco chew, even for the wedding of Queenie Robinson's grandbaby girl, Lee, Ashlee and Kyle Owens, Brandon and Noelle Anderson; her brothers, their wives, children, and Trey Baker and her twin nephews. Trey had resigned himself to his wife's going back to school once she'd proven to him that earning a degree would give them greater earning power.

Jeffrey Helfrick had flown in for the wedding. The agent was scheduled to spend the holidays with his children in Puerto Rico with the second of four ex-wives.

After Otis Pratt's article recanting his ménage à trois hoax, Derrick Landry had contacted Hope about the position at WLKV, but she had declined. She would continue her “Straight Talk” column for William Cullen and write books whenever the spirit hit her.

The minister from the only church on McKinnon Island stood ready to begin the ceremony. He pulled himself up to his full five-three height and smiled at Hope. “Who gives this woman in marriage?” His voice was unusually deep for a man of his diminutive height.

“I do,” said Patrick in a strong voice. He placed Hope's hand in Theo's, then stepped back to sit beside his wife.

Theo smiled at Hope, mouthing, “Beautiful.”

She returned his smile, nodding.

The afternoon was perfect for a wedding. The sun was shining, the temperature was in the low seventies. Hope and Theo repeated their vows, exchanged rings, then sealed their troth with a chaste kiss.

Everyone stood and applauded as Hope tightened her grip on her husband's neck.

“I have some good news,” she whispered against his lips.

“What?”

“We're pregnant.”

Theo went completely still. Eyes wide, he stared at her as if he'd never seen her before. “Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Very sure.”

He swept her up in his arms, threw back his head, and bellowed like someone possessed. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Hope threw her bouquet over her head, and it landed in Ashlee Owens's lap. The young girl waved it above her head while smiling at Brandon.

Christian whispered in his brother's ear. The Anderson young men gave each other high fives, then winked at their older brother.

The minister's voice echoed above the sound of the waves crashing up on the beach. “Ladies and gentlemen, the ancestors and the descendants of McKinnon Island, South Carolina, congratulate Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Howell on their marriage. May you live a long and happy life together.”

Theo placed his hand over his wife's belly. They shared a secret smile before turning to receive best wishes from those who had returned to a place that seemingly had stopped in time—a place where another generation of Gullahs would come to know their unique culture.