Worth a Thousand Words (17 page)

Aunt Melba nodded. “I know. God . . . is really good.”

They entered the kitchen and found Mama and Daddy already eating. Both of them smiled when they saw Melba making her way to the table. Mama got up, fixed Melba a plate of pancakes, bacon, and eggs, and set it in front of her.

Aunt Melba bowed her head in prayer, then picked up her fork. “I’ll eat this today . . . but how about some oatmeal and fruit . . . next time? I keep . . . telling ya . . . all of y’all in here . . . are going to end up with . . . stroke risks if you keep this up.”

Daddy chuckled. “We eat healthy most of the week,” he countered. “Can’t we splurge on the weekends? Eat up and be happy.”

“Feel up to going wedding gown shopping with us, sis?” Indigo’s mother asked Melba.

Melba took a few bites, then eyed Indigo. “You are the most . . . unenthusiastic . . . bride I have ever seen.”

She stared at Indigo and awaited a response.

“I’m glad you’re back, Aunt Melba,” Indigo said and patted her hand.

Mama looked from one to the other. “What do you mean, Melba?”

Aunt Melba set down her fork.

“Do you remember . . . how excited you were when Charles proposed? You drove me crazy . . . for six months . . . planning your wedding, talking about your wedding . . . dreaming about your wedding,” Melba told Mama. “That’s the kind of . . . excitement . . . you expect to see . . . in brides, but I don’t see it in . . . Indigo . . . that’s all.”

Mama nodded politely. “Well, they’ve agreed that Indigo will start grad school in August and they’ll move the wedding back to December, so it’s not as urgent as it once was,” she said. “But you’re right—it’s July now, so we need to start planning in order to get the location we want for the reception.”

But Aunt Melba wouldn’t relent. “If you aren’t ready, Indigo . . . that’s okay. Why rush it?”

Indigo felt her defenses rising and tried to stay calm.

“You are . . . one of the most . . . awesome young ladies I know,” Aunt Melba continued. “You knew as a child . . . that you wanted to be a photographer . . . and by ninth grade . . . had mapped out a plan . . . to become one. You received . . . early acceptance letters . . . to college and grad school . . . and landed internships . . . at some of the nation’s top companies. How many people . . . can say they were summer interns . . . for
Time
magazine or a national foundation?”

Aunt Melba shook her head. “But on this? You seem to be . . . as cool as iced coffee . . . when it comes to talk . . . of being Mrs. Brian Harper. What gives?”

Indigo sighed and sat back in her chair. She had lost her appetite and was tempted to join Yasmin in bedroom seclusion.

She looked at Mama, who seemed pensive. “Go ahead, Mama,” she said. “You can let me have it too.”

Mama shook her head. “I’m not quite as convinced as Melba that getting married is a tragic mistake. Brian is a good man. You don’t want to lose him just because you’ve had a rocky summer and things haven’t gone as planned. It wouldn’t be a big wedding at this point, anyway. Don’t let go of a good thing.”

Indigo’s eyes swung back to Melba, to hear her next volley, but Aunt Melba seemed to have decided not to bicker with her sister.

“I know I’ve procrastinated,” Indigo said. “Brian and I were going to map everything out a couple of weekends ago, when I was scheduled to visit him in Newport. With all that has gone on with my eyes, then taking over the salon, and now Yasmin, I’ve put my planning on the back burner. It’s not like me, but this summer hasn’t been typical.”

She looked at Aunt Melba. “Thank you for your concern. I know it’s out of love. But I love Brian, and I do want to marry him. He’s a great guy, and I know that he’ll find a way to support my photography.”

Aunt Melba peered at Indigo over her coffee cup as she drank the last few drops. “What about . . . grad school?”

“We’ve talked about that, and he’s not happy about having a long-distance marriage until I finish, but he’s willing to do it for my sake,” Indigo said. “We also decided that we do want a small wedding at this point—just friends and family. If we can get Reuben here from out of town, that would be enough for me.”

Mama and Daddy looked at each other.

“We hope we can get him here,” Daddy said.

“We’ll talk more later,” Aunt Melba said. “I’m here for you . . . whatever you need.” She changed the subject. “Irene, are you going . . . to let me cut your hair . . . into a cute style . . . when I’m back . . . at work?”

An hour or so later, after she had showered and dressed for the day, Indigo strolled into the family room to wait for Mama so they could meet with Nizhoni at Brides Central. She plopped on the sofa next to her aunt, who was flipping through a stack of magazines.

She wanted to ask the question that had been nagging her ever since Aunt Melba had the stroke: what advice had she been planning to give regarding marriage when she fell sick? But Indigo didn’t ask, out of fear that Aunt Melba might not even remember the conversation and might be upset by that fact.

“You’re ready to go home, aren’t you?” Indigo asked Aunt Melba instead.

“Yep,” Aunt Melba said, without taking her eyes off of an article in
O Magazine
. “My doctor says . . . I should be able . . . to live independently soon . . . but I don’t know . . . what his definition . . . of ‘soon’ is.”

Indigo rested her head on her aunt’s shoulder. “I’m so happy you’re better, and that we can talk again. But I’m going to miss having you here.”

Aunt Melba patted her head and smiled. “You’ll know where to find me . . . and now that you know . . . all of my business secrets . . . and practices . . . you can keep me in line.”

Indigo raised her head. “No need to do that. You had everything in order. All I had to do was come in and keep things moving.”

Aunt Melba held the magazine article closer, then tapped at the page. “You need to do this.”

Indigo peered over her shoulder. “ ‘Photography contest,’ ” Indigo read aloud. “ ‘Send us your three “slice-of-life” photos that best represent people in your community and win a temporary slot on the
O Magazine
photography team. No manufactured poses or formal studio shots. We want everyday people in their daily settings, living and loving life.’ ”

Aunt Melba put the magazine on Indigo’s lap.

“Do this. Today. The deadline . . . is Monday.”

“In two days?!” Indigo shrieked. “I don’t have time!”

Then she remembered where her camera was now. Locked in a desk at the salon, waiting for everyday people to come in and prepare to look their best for the people and the activities they loved. Maybe she would give this a try.

Indigo’s eyes wandered to the digital clock on the fireplace mantle. She jumped up from the sofa.

“Let me call Nizhoni,” she said. “I’m going to be late getting to the bridal shop today.”

32

B
rian couldn’t believe he had fallen for the lie.

Meet with me on Saturday and we’ll hash this out.   I’ ll move on and so can you.  CM

The note that Craig had slipped him one evening after dinner shook him and gave him hope at the same time. Meeting with this guy was dangerous—there was no telling what Craig might have up his sleeve. But he was being commissioned next week; maybe he really wanted to put all of this behind him.

That’s what Brian had been praying for, for weeks now. Keeping Craig quiet was the only way to make sure he’d have a solid career in the Navy and a solid marriage with Indigo.

The military’s “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy concerning gays was still in effect. Not that Brian considered that to be his sexual orientation at all; but any hint or doubt on the part of his comrades or superiors would mean he’d never go as far as he’d like up the career ladder. He would be ostracized and worse.

The flip side of that was that Craig would be too. So why would he risk it all?

Maybe this face-to-face discussion would put to bed the demons Brian still wrestled with every night. He couldn’t take this into his life after OCS, or into his marriage. What would Indigo think?

Now here they were on Saturday evening, at a cozy restaurant half an hour away in Providence, having dinner and drinks. Brian knew better. Alcohol had gotten him in trouble the first time. He swallowed his second sip of bourbon and set the glass aside.

The waiter arrived with their lobster and crab cakes.

They ate outside, on the restaurant’s deck, and talked little while they consumed the meal.

Brian didn’t want to provoke Craig, but he had to ask.

“So what’s this all about—taking me to dinner? The drive to Providence?”

He stared at Craig and waited for his answer.

Craig put down his fork and wiped his mouth. “What do you think?”

I think you’re stone crazy.
Brian wanted to say it aloud, but didn’t want to get left in Providence. Instead, he shrugged.

“Come on, man. If we’re here to talk, let’s talk.”

“We don’t have to talk, if you prefer to do something else,” Craig said and smiled.

Brian rolled his eyes. He understood now how stupid he had been. If he’d stayed in Newport, he could have walked out. This way, he was at Craig’s mercy—a captive audience.

He sat back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest, and waited.

“I want to know what you remember about our . . . encounters at Tuskegee,” Craig finally said.

“Why?” Brian asked. “If I can tell you nothing else, I can tell you they were a mistake. The first time I was drunk and out of my mind. The last time, I was reeling from what happened the first time, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.

“I know who I am—a heterosexual man. What happened was out of character and out of the norm for me, and it hasn’t happened since. I’ve repented and asked God to cleanse me, and he has. So whatever you thought was going to happen tonight, you can forget it and take us back to the base.”

“You had your speech prepared, huh,” Craig said and took another sip of his drink. “If you weren’t worried about losing control, would that even be necessary?”

Craig was playing with him. Brian inhaled and exhaled slowly to keep his cool. He was way too old to have been this stupid.

Craig squinted and leaned toward Brian. “You know what? You aren’t even my type anymore. Besides, messing with you isn’t worth risking my career. I receive my commission next week. I’ll be an officer and I’m outta here. Heading to Connecticut to do my thing, buddy. That’s all that matters.”

“Okay . . . ,” Brian said. “And the reason for bringing me here?”

“You and I both know that if anyone in the Navy or at OCS suspects we go both ways or to the far left, we’re dead in the water,” Craig said in a near whisper. “Getting commissioned will be a waste of time for both of us if they stall our careers because of questionable sexual orientation. I hear you’re getting married—good. I’m looking for someone too.”

Brian shook his head. “What—you think my relationship is a front? Come on, man. I’m for real. I’m not on the DL.”

Craig shrugged. “Whatever you have to do, do it, that’s my motto. There’s a little problem, though, and I need you to help take care of it.”

Brian frowned and leaned forward too. “What—?”

“Shelby knows, Harper. You’ve got to keep her quiet.”

33

I
ndigo slipped into her fifth dress of the day, and she knew, before even turning to face the mirror, that this was the one.

The strapless, satin gown had a fitted, crisscross waist, a modestly full skirt embellished with crystals and beads, and a sweeping train. She was in love.

Nizhoni pinned Indigo’s hair up in a mock French roll to give her a different effect, then turned her toward the mirror.

Indigo gasped.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, drawing out the word. “Can I have it?”

Nizhoni laughed. “For $3,995 plus tax and custom fitting fees, it’s yours.”

Indigo stopped and looked at her. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

Nizhoni shook her head. “Unfortunately I’m not. It’s made by a popular designer and has hundreds of hand-sewn crystals and beads on the body of the skirt.”

When Indigo didn’t speak, Nizhoni grabbed her hand.

“Come on, let’s show your mom and Yasmin and see what they think.”

Mama saw Indigo coming through the door and began to tear up.

“You didn’t do that when I came out in the other ones, so I take it that this one is a winner?”

Mama gave her a thumbs-up.

Yasmin sat there wide-eyed.

“You look like a princess, Sis,” she said. “Brian is going to cry when he sees you in that.”

Indigo’s grin stretched from one ear to the other. Then she pouted.

“There’s sticker shock, though.”

Nizhoni shared the price of the dress and Mama covered her heart with her hands.

“Do you have a bridal sale coming up anytime soon? We’ve got a little time to order, since the wedding has been pushed back to December.” She looked at Indigo and smiled. “You look beautiful in it, baby. I want you to have it, if we can manage.”

Now it was Indigo’s turn to get weepy. “Thank you, Mama. I do love it.”

Nizhoni went into her office to check the calendar and returned a few minutes later.

“There’s nothing on the books now, but we usually have a fall sale, just before the holidays,” she said. “I can’t guarantee that this dress will be included, but usually the wedding dresses are 15 percent off during that time. The other issue is that it takes ten to twelve weeks to get a dress back after custom changes have been requested, so you don’t want to wait too close to December to be doing this.

“Let me go talk to my manager too, and see if there’s anything she can do, since you guys are friends.”

Nizhoni trotted off and Yasmin rose from the cushioned chair and approached Indigo.

“You look beautiful,” Yasmin said. “You’re doing great things with your life—I’m just proud of you.”

Indigo leaned down from the pedestal she stood on in front of the three-way mirror and stroked Yasmin’s face.

“I’m proud of you too, baby sis,” she said. “You’re going through a rough patch right now, but like I learned when I found out about the glaucoma, you just have to pick yourself up and get back in the game. You’re doing great.”