by D L Lane
“It’s lovely,” I uttered, never breaking my gaze from the musicians playing their instruments on the stage.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I will see you later, or I won’t
February 7, 1938
Thayer
My parents had arrived in all their glory, ordering me into the office ‘to talk’ before they even took their coats and hats off. My sister, God bless her, shaking her head and mouthing, “Sorry” prior to heading for the stairs.
It didn’t take a genius to know what they wanted to speak about, so I stiffened my spine, and like the child I was not, followed my father into my office, where he took a seat at my desk. Mother stood behind him, displeasure on her face.
“Shall I sit here, father, since you’ve taken my chair?” I asked, pulling out the guest chair to my preferred angle.
“Sit,” My father ordered, his gray-blue eyes spitting flames.
“All right.” Straightening my cufflinks, I took my seat.
My parents glared at me.
“Shall I start?” I asked.
Grumbling under his breath, my mother placed a palm on his shoulder. “We will,” she said in her most ‘I’m the mother, and you’re the child’ British manner.
“Yes,” Father agreed.
I waved a hand. “Then, let’s proceed.”
“Don’t take that approach with me, son. I’m not one of your employees. I’m your father!”
Attempting for contrite, I inclined my head. “You’re right. I apologize.”
He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie as if it were too tight, cutting off his air. “Now. I want to say I am very pleased you rid yourself of that Carrington girl before all of us were swept up into that nightmarish scandal, but to free yourself from one problem only to step into another is very concerning.”
“And disheartening,” my mother added.
“Your mother is correct. We are very disappointed with this turn of events.”
Curling my fingers, I made a fist, loosened it, balled it again. “By ‘turn of events,’ I’m assuming you are referring to my engagement and the wedding that will take place next week?”
“Of course, we are referring to that.” Mother’s cheeks turned berry red. “We came when you asked us for a show of support when that girl gave birth, even though it was against our better judgment, but—”
“Mississippi,” I said, heat flaring in my chest.
“Excuse me?”
“Mississippi, not ‘that girl.’”
“Mississippi”—Mother tossed a dismissive hand—“I realize you have a more casual way of speaking with your staff, but really son.”
“She is not my staff.”
“She sure was,” Father said.
“Temporarily to help, but that is neither here or there. The issue as I see it is, you believe Mississippi to be beneath this family and me, and believe when I marry her, it will be a mistake as well as a scandal.”
“If you marry her,” Father groused.
“There are no ifs about it. I assure you both. I will marry Mississippi Singleton on the date she chose.”
“I think you’ll change your mind if I strip the business away and remove your access to our bank accounts.”
Leaning back in my chair, I cracked a smile. “Take the business and remove my name from the accounts.”
Mother sucked in a sharp breath, her hand going to her throat. “You would be penniless.”
“No”—I shook my head—“I have money of my own, but even if I lost every last cent, that wouldn’t stop me from making Mississippi, my wife.”
“If you were broke, it might stop her from marrying you. Let’s be honest here, the money train would be gone, and she would no longer have such finery around her.”
I shrugged. “As I said, I have money of my own, but I know Mississippi, and she wouldn’t care if I worked as a clerk or a trash collector. She would love me anyway.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Father said, smacking his palm on the desk. “She’s in love with your status, your wealth—”
“I’m sorry,” Mississippi said, walking into the room as if a queen. “I’m afraid you have the wrong of it, Mr. and Mrs. King. I love your son with everything I am, and I don’t care about any of those things.”
Smiling, I stood, took her by the hand, brought it to my lips, and brushed them across her knuckles. “My parents have arrived a week early, as you can see, my love.”
“So, tell me, young lady.” Father rose to his feet, Mother taking her position by his side. “If my son were no longer able to give you things such as this house, those clothes, that expensive ring on your finger, you wouldn’t care?”
My fiancée shook her head. “I wouldn’t.”
“Do you think I am so naive as to believe that?”
“I know what it’s like to be poor. Do I want to go back to that? No. Who in their right mind would want to? But your son means the world to me, and he always will. He takes care of me in ways that have nothing to do with status or money. He supports me and listens to me and cares about my ideas and what I think. He wants the best for me. Thayer has shown me what it’s like to have a home, a family, something I’ve been without since my mother died.”
She looked at me with her beautiful blue eyes, a smile dancing in them. “This man loves a son that isn’t his, one conceived out of horrific violence, and would fight until his last breath for that boy.”
Turning, she faced my parents—fiery Mississippi to her core. “So, am I marrying above my station? Yes. No one could argue that point. But nothing, not my background or Thayer’s, matters. What does, is how your son and I feel about each other. Our commitment and love. That’s more important than any money in the bank, jewels around my neck and on my fingers, or even this fancy roof over my head.”
At that moment, I’d never been prouder of my girl, standing there with her head held high, laying it all out on the table in a decisive manner.
“I love her,” I said without hesitation. “And no matter what you do, whether you cut me off, disown me, stomp out of my life and never come back, so be it. But this rejection is on you. Not me. If it were up to me, you would support my decision and come to the wedding, but that’s not up to me now, is it?”
Leading my fiancée by the hand, we went to the door before I glanced back. “Mother. Father. I hope you find it in your hearts to make the right decision, getting to know the wonderful person who will be my wife and spend some time with your grandson. He’s a loveable boy who could learn a lot from you two.”
My mother was fingering the collar on her dress, face bright pink, while my father wore his staunch demeanor like a well-tailored suit.
I heaved a sigh, resigned. “Either way, I will see you later, or I won’t.”
Chapter Forty
With this ring
February 14, 1938
Mississippi
My silk and lace dress was the color of champagne, the veil not covering my face but flowing into the train, long and flowing behind me, inching along the aisle as Charles Dillon, who was more to me than just the driver, walked me to the front of the church. The eyes looking on this time were those of Thayer’s friends, business acquaintances, and his family. Yes, they all came—Mr. and Mrs. King and his lovely sister, Estella, who I admired tremendously. Oh, and there were a few friends of mine, which included mostly staff, Edith McNamara, and Fawna-Leigh.
Emmanuel’s “Na,na,na,na,” from where he was held on Ms. Bauman’s lap, mixing into the wedding march, made me smile over at his bright, beautiful face as he gnawed on his glistening balled fist.
Once we stepped up to where Thayer stood, hands clasped in front of him, face alight with happiness, Reverend Barnard cleared his throat as the last few notes of piano music drifted into silence.
“Welcome, everyone, and thank you for being here to celebrate Thayer Drayton King and Mississippi Kaitileen Singleton's love!”
He shifted his gaze to Charles and
me. “Who gives this woman here today to this man?”
My escort patted the hand I had rested on his forearm. “I do.”
“If anyone here has any objections speak now or forever hold your peace.”
I swallowed hard, wondering if someone would jump up and scream, “I’ve got some!” but no one said anything, allowing me to breathe.
“All right,” the pastor said. “Let us pray.”
After giving us a second to bow our heads, he started, “Heavenly Father, we are here on this day to give thanks for the love you have shared with these two individuals. We ask that you help Thayer and Mississippi to always remember when they first met and to remember the strong love that grew between them. To work their love into practical things so that nothing divides them. Please help them find words both kind and loving, and hearts always ready to ask for forgiveness as well as able to forgive. Father, we put this marriage in your hands. Amen.”
Taking the large bouquet of light pink and white roses from me, Charles handed me over to Thayer, who wrapped his long fingers around my palm. The man who stood in for the daddy I didn’t have walked away—Thayer taking me to his side as the two of us returned our attention to the pastor.
“Mississippi, do you take Thayer to be your husband, to take care of him, and cherish your relationship? To love him today, tomorrow, and forever? To always be open, honest, and faithful to him? To have and to hold from this day forward in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”
My voice quivering with emotion, I said, “I do.”
“Thayer, do you take Mississippi to be your wife, to take care of her, and cherish your relationship? To love her today, tomorrow, and forever? To always be open, honest, and faithful to her? To have and to hold from this day forward in sickness and in health, in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto her for as long as you both shall live?”
Without pause, Thayer announced, “I do.”
“Then let us have the exchanging of rings.”
Taking my left hand, the man I loved looked into my eyes as the pastor said, “Thayer, repeat after me: Mississippi, you are my best friend and everlasting companion. You have brought me the truest happiness I have ever known. I take joy today in committing my life to yours.”
Deep passion resonated from Thayer as he spoke the same words to me.
“Now, place the ring on her hand and repeat after me. With this ring, I promise to stand with you as we share this life and cherish the memories we make together.”
“With this ring,” Thayer said in his smooth voice as he slipped the thin gold band onto my finger, “I promise to stand with you as we share this life and cherish the memories we make together.” He smiled and added, “This is the beginning of our forever. I love you.”
A collective, “Aw...” came from the crowd.
“Mississippi,” the pastor said, “repeat after me. You are my best friend and everlasting companion. You have brought me the truest happiness I have ever known. I take joy today in committing my life to yours.”
I said the words, meaning every single one.
“Now place the ring on Thayer’s hand and repeat after me. With this ring, I promise to stand with you as we share this life and cherish the memories we make together.”
Joy filling my heart, I kept my gaze on the most extraordinary man I would ever know. “With this ring,”—I slipped the thicker golden band on his finger—“I promise to stand with you as we share this life and cherish the memories we make together.”
Swiping an escaped tear rolling down my cheek, I said, “You are my forever. I love you, Thayer Drayton King.”
“Thayer, and Mississippi,” Reverend Bernard said, “before this moment you each walked a separate path. Now, you embark together on a shared path. Yet the journey is not yours alone, for you have already been blessed with a beautiful child. It is the strength of your love that shall nourish you all together as a family.”
The pastor waved his hand. “Please bring Emmanuel up to join in the ceremony.”
Ms. Bauman rose from her seat, coming to us and handing the baby to Thayer, who took him and placed a sweet smooch on his rosy cheek.
“Thayer, Mississippi, and little Emmanuel, today you stand before these witnesses and declare your intent to commit your lives to one another. You have made promises to each other and your family. Your road to this moment hasn’t always been easy, but you continued to fight for one another. I hope you will never forget the fight and perseverance it has taken to get to this moment. And I hope you will never forget the love and joy you feel today because these are the values that will keep your marriage, family, and bond strong.”
Smiling, the corners of the pastor’s eyes crinkled behind his glasses. “And so, by the power vested in me by our mighty Lord, and the State of Louisiana, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
The audience clapped.
“Thayer,” the pastor said, “you may kiss your bride.”
Holding Emmanuel in one arm, reaching to cup the back of my neck with the other hand, my husband tugged me forward, bent and pressed his lips to mine. Emmanuel joined in the love with his, “Ya,ya, ah-ah” making everyone giggle, including Thayer and me—our breathy happiness bathing each other’s lips.
Then, turning and lifting my hand with his as if in victory, Thayer Drayton King pronounced, “My wife and son!”
Clapping, cheers, and even a few whistles filled the sanctuary as the recessional music started.
***
The wedding reception was over, and my husband was carrying me over the threshold of our room in the estate, tenderness on his perfect face. “I promise we will go on a honeymoon. Where would you like to go? Paris? London? Switzerland?”
“Switzerland?” My eyes went wide. “Really?”
He nodded. “I’ll take you anywhere you wish.”
Placing my palm on his smooth cheek, wedding rings glittering, I smiled. “I’m perfectly happy right here with you.”
“Thank you.”
My eyebrows shot up. “For what?”
“For loving me, Mrs. King.”
“You’re welcome.”
Thayer laughed, tugging giggles from me. “I love you too, Mr. King.”
Once he set me on my feet, he shrugged out of his tailored suit coat, then started working on the buttons of his vest.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do—nerves and concern overtaking the laughter and contentment, strangling it off.
“I might not be what you’re expecting,” I said, giving him one of my fears. “I don’t know if I—”
Wrapping his arms around my waist, he met my gaze. “Shh...You have nothing to fret over. Everything that happens here between us will be wonderful.”
“But...” I glanced down. “Those horrible things from my past.”
“Look at me, Mississippi.”
When I did, he said, “You are here with me, and if anytime you forget that and become frightened, I will make sure you are all right.”
Placing shaky hands on his waist, I gave up another fear. “What if we’re”—heat bloomed on my cheeks—“starting to...you know, and I panic?”
He placed his forehead on mine. “I would never hurt you or do anything to frighten you. You know this, right?”
“I know,” I whispered.
“I promise we will go slow.”
“Slow,” I agreed as Thayer’s soft lips slanted across mine.
Chapter Forty-One
A new life
April 6, 1939
Abram Matthias King came into this world at two forty-three a.m. My husband refused to stay outside in the waiting area during the birth, holding our wrapped newborn in his arms proudly.
What Mr. King wanted, Mr. King got. Not a single one of the hospital staff dared to argue.
“He’s perfect,” Thayer said, snuggling his son. “Emmanuel will be so thrille
d.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, “for the past few months, every time he sat on my lap he’d place his ear to my belly and say, ‘my baby.’”
“He’s going to be a good big brother.”
“How does it feel to be a daddy for a second time?” I asked, head resting on the pillow.
“There are no words, Mississippi.” Taking a seat on the side of the bed, he looked at me in a way that was as if he were seeing me anew. “Thank you.”
Frowning, I asked, “Whatever for?”
“For being my wife, for giving me this wonderful family, for loving me.” He grinned. “Do I need to go on?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I get it, but I should be the one thanking you, Mr. King.”
He arched a black brow. “Mr. King, now is it? Am I in trouble?”
Placing my hand on his arm, love filled me. “Not today.”
Thayer chortled, and I basked in the sound.
Chapter Forty-Two
Doubly blessed
September 20, 1941
The twins, Jacob Lyndon King, and Matthew Meyer King were born two weeks before their due day at eight-fifteen in the evening. My husband missed their births, being out of town on business, but he soon came into the hospital room, his heavy footfalls bongos on the tiles, skidding with a squeak to a stop.
“Doctor, is my wife okay?”
“Mississippi and your babies are doing just fine, Thayer.”
“Babies?”
The curtain partially hiding my bed slid back. “See for yourself.”
Thayer went still, his summer-sky eyes filled with glistening unshed tears as he looked at me, then at Jacob, and then over to Matthew—both of them tucked on each side of my body. “Twins?”
“We were doubly blessed with boys,” I announced.
Cheeks flushed, the man came to my side, kneeling by the bed, seemingly unable to stop staring at me.
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked, tempted to reach out and touch his forehead.
“I’m just—” he cleared his throat. “ I’m flabbergasted, I guess, and so, so sorry I wasn’t here for the births.”
