On Ocean Boulevard

by Mary Alice Monroe

  Yet it was in summer that she’d also experienced her greatest losses. Brett had died in the beginning of a summer. Her mother at summer’s end. This past summer she’d almost lost her daughter.

  She leaned against the pergola on her back porch. And still, life went on. She’d made the right decision giving up her job at the aquarium to stay home with Hope. She was learning to slow down, to not set such lofty goals, to appreciate that these were precious days that she didn’t want to miss.

  The wedding had been canceled at Lowndes Grove. Deposits were lost. There were no regrets. As far as she was concerned, she and David had said their vows in the hospital chapel. Anything else would be a formality. They’d talked about having a ceremony, some smallish party that they could celebrate with their family and friends. Perhaps in the fall, she thought. Or at Christmas. Hope could wear red.

  She smiled at the thought; she wasn’t quite ready for winter. Autumn was an introspective season. Perhaps fall would become her new favorite season. Then she thought of hurricanes, and banished the thought. The worst part of August, September, and October was that they marked the peak of hurricane season. She shuddered and looked over the lowcountry landscape she called home. The roses of her pergola were aflame, the panicles of the sea oats were fat and golden, and wildflowers dotted the dunes again, now that the blistering heat of summer had passed. Soon flocks of birds would begin their migration and monarch butterflies their perilous journey south.

  “Good-bye, summer,” she said aloud.

  Cara looked at her watch, then glanced again over her shoulder toward the beach house. She and David were expected at an open house for the home that Palmer had built. He’d found funding and finished it, great news indeed. They were going to be late, she thought, seeing it was already 2 p.m. David was inside on the phone; a business call he said he couldn’t miss. Hope was inside with him, playing with dolls. Cara was ready to go, dressed in her tried-and-true petal-pink, boat-necked shift. She sipped her iced tea and resolved not to be annoyed. She wouldn’t live by the clock anymore, she reminded herself. Besides, how could they be late for an open house that went from two to four o’clock?

  Across the road, cars were already beginning to slow down as they passed the house, and some pulled into the driveway. She watched some man putting a bunch of balloons on the OPEN HOUSE sign. Idiot, she thought. Didn’t he know that balloons could escape their hold and be carried out to the sea by the wind? Once deflated, they would fall into the ocean, adding to the plastic problem—and worse, underwater the balloons looked like jellyfish, a favorite food of sea turtles. They’d eat them, and eventually, the plastic could kill them. She resolved to take the darn things down when she got there, and she’d give the realtor an education.

  But it certainly was a beautiful house, she thought, admiring the long white porches, the redbrick trim, the turret that she was especially fond of. She hadn’t been through the house since Hope’s illness and was curious, even eager, to see the finished product. She hoped someone nice would buy it—the house deserved a good owner. Palmer had risen to the occasion once again. He’d found a builder who would buy the house and finish it, for a good price too. Cara had made a small profit from the sale, but Palmer had earned more than money: he’d regained his self-respect. Once again, he’d joined AA, and with Julia by his side, he was building another house, smaller this time, in Mount Pleasant. But it was a start.

  Lessons learned, she thought again. Knowledge was acquired. Wisdom earned.

  “Cara?” called David. “Are you ready to go?”

  She turned and felt her heart flutter at the sight of him. He stood in the door of the beach house, Hope in his arms. His hair had more white strands mingled in the dark. His face was not as tanned as it had been early in the summer. But he never failed to take her breath away. She thought he looked particularly stunning today in his navy blazer, tan pants, and crisp white shirt.

  “Isn’t an Hermès tie a bit much for an open house?” she asked as she drew near.

  “I thought I might take my girls out for dinner after,” he replied.

  “Lovely. But I’m not dressed up,” she said, looking down at her pale-pink shift, one she’d worn so many times over the summer it was beginning to look a bit tired.

  “You look beautiful.”

  “No matter about me—look at our girl!” she exclaimed. “She changed to a fancy dress.”

  “You know Hope. Once she makes her mind up…” He held out Cara’s bag, which was more carryall than purse, holding all manner of must-have items for Hope when they left the house.

  “Shall we go?” He moved to the back stairs.

  “We’re walking?”

  David laughed. “Cara, it’s across the street.”

  “Okay.” She looked down at her heels. “One minute.” She hurried to the porch to grab her flip-flops, tossed them on the floor, and stepped into them. She picked up her heels. “I’ll stick the sandals in my purse when we get there.” She looked at his navy jacket. “You won’t be too hot? It’s eighty-nine degrees.”

  “I’ll be fine. Mind your step,” he said as he guided them down the porch stairs.

  They made their way along the beach path to Ocean Boulevard. The row of mansions created a pastel wall in front of the ocean. Only the remaining lot that Russell Bennett had long ago put into conservancy remained open, covered in wildflowers, providing sanctuary not only to the sea turtles but to the wandering eye of every passerby who hoped for a glimpse of the great sea. The brilliant blue sky was reflected in the water. It seemed to sparkle in the surf like shards of diamonds.

  When they arrived, the driveway was full of cars.

  “Hold on,” Cara said, her gaze focused on the real estate sign in front of the house. She took off across the fresh sod straight for the sign and tugged at the strings of the balloons attached there. Cursing, she tried to untie them.

  “Mama, I want a balloon!” exclaimed Hope.

  “I’m trying to take them down,” she called back. She swore under her breath. They were all knotted tight. In frustration, she gave up and walked across the grass to join David and Hope on the driveway. “I’ll have to come back with a pair of scissors. I’m going to give that agent a piece of my mind. I don’t think balloons are even allowed on the island.”

  “Come on, dear,” David said, prodding her along. “You’ll get them taken down. But it is a bit warm out here.”

  Still fuming about the balloons, Cara accompanied him toward the house. Palmer had created a lovely walk covered with a pergola in the Italian style, similar to the one Brett had created for Primrose Cottage. The red roses, so much like the variety at her own beach house, were blooming.

  “Isn’t that charming,” Cara said, moved almost to tears as they walked underneath. “What a nice touch.”

  “It’s a handsome house, don’t you think?” David asked.

  “Yes. I’ve always loved it. The design is exquisite. I haven’t seen the finished inside yet.”

  They walked a few more steps. “Is this something in line with what you’d like for us?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” she replied. “It’s lovely. Perfect.” Then, always practical, “And off the beach, we should find better prices.”

  They reached the door, and Cara slipped on her heels as David tried to open it. “It’s locked.” He rang the doorbell.

  “I don’t think you need to ring the bell,” Cara told him. “It’s an open house. Unless perhaps it’s by appointment only?” She glanced over her shoulder at the sign. “But it says OPEN HOUSE.” She looked at the driveway. “And it’s full of cars.”

  The front door swung open with a swish. Cara was stunned to see Palmer standing there. He too wore a blue blazer over his pale-pink silk polo shirt. He was spit-polished and beaming.

  “Welcome!” he exclaimed.

  “Look at you!” Cara said. “Are you an agent now, too?”

  “It’s a bit more complicated,” he replied with a grin. “Come o
n in. I want to show you the house.” He stepped back, swinging the door open wide.

  Cara took a step inside. She first saw the long, large spread of windows and a burst of sunlight coming from the ocean vista. She always loved walking into a house and seeing the vista first. It took her breath away. Then, as though in a fog, she became aware of people in the living room. Lots of people. Men and women. Children. As the faces came into focus, she froze. Not just people, she realized. People she knew.

  “Surprise!” The room roared as one with the shout.

  Cara stood rock-still, her mouth agape, unsure of what was happening. She looked behind her to see if anyone else had walked in. Confused, she turned to David. He looked as stunned as she did. Hope was kicking her legs in his arms, excited, begging to get down. Rory had run up to his grandfather’s legs and wrapped his arms around them. Cara turned to Palmer, eyes wide as the crowd gathered closer, laughing, sipping champagne, celebratory.

  “Surprise, little sister,” Palmer said, laughing now.

  “Will someone tell me what’s going on?” she exclaimed.

  “Welcome to your wedding.” Palmer’s arms were extended.

  “My what?” Cara looked again to David. “Did you know about this?”

  David shook his head, his face revealing as much confusion as she was certain hers did.

  Palmer kissed her cheek, beaming. “It’s time to celebrate, little sister! You’ve put this wedding off long enough. And now that our little lady Hope is back to her old mischievous self, it was high time this man made an honest woman of you.”

  Cara gazed again at David. He was surrounded by well-wishers, kissing and hugging him.

  “But… how?” she stammered, overcome.

  “We knew you’d get around to a ceremony,” Palmer continued. “Someday.”

  Julia stepped close to place a kiss on her cheek. Cara’s were flushed with excitement. “We just helped things along.”

  Palmer stepped closer and spoke sotto voce. “What better place to do it than here, in this house, your gift to me?” he said. His face filled with emotion. “A gift I’ll never forget. One that was from our beloved mother.” He paused as tears flashed. “It’s the least I could do.” Then, stepping back, he flung out his arms again exuberantly and indicated the room filled with flowers and smiling people. “It’s just your friends and family. Exactly what you said you wanted.”

  “I’m speechless!” Cara exclaimed.

  “No time for talk anyway,” Emmi said, linking arms. “Let’s get this party started.”

  Cara realized Emmi was wearing the green maid of honor dress she’d selected and a circlet of flowers in her hair. “You knew!”

  “Of course I did,” Emmi said, giving her a quick kiss. “Everyone knew. Except you and David, of course. That’s why it’s called a surprise party.” She laughed again as Linnea and Heather drew close.

  Suddenly Cara was surrounded by her girlfriends, laughing and giggling and herding her to another room. Emmi held her around the shoulders. Linnea had taken her arm. Julia ushered her from behind. They guided her through a room of smiling faces. She caught a glimpse of a wooden arch in the center of the living room bedecked with white flowers. Flowers were everywhere—lilies and hydrangeas, freesia and stock, in gorgeous arrangements. They entered a large bedroom that overlooked the ocean. Given the size and magnificence, it had to be the master. A mahogany four-poster king bed dominated one wall and faced the windows. Lying on it were delicate undergarments, all lace and ribbons.

  Heather handed her a glass of pink champagne. When all the women had a glass, Emmi raised hers and made a toast.

  “To Cara, the best friend, sister, aunt, mother, and soon-to-be wife.”

  They raised their flutes in unison. “To Cara!”

  Cara sipped the wine, feeling the bubbles in her brain.

  “This can’t really be happening.”

  “Why not?” asked Linnea. “You’ve done things for us all your life, gone out of your way to help us. Why not let us do something for you for once?”

  Cara looked at Emmi. “Be honest. Did David arrange this?”

  Emmi laughed. “For once, no. He didn’t. We thought it was his turn to be surprised. Palmer arranged everything. With Julia.”

  Cara turned to her sister-in-law. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “Oh, but it was so much fun!”

  “Who all is out there?” Cara asked.

  “The usual suspects.” Julia replied with a wink.

  “Family and friends. Just like you requested,” Emmi said. “Enough questions. Now, hurry up, dear. You really must dress. Your wedding awaits you.”

  Cara heard a sound to her right and, turning, saw Linnea coming forward, carrying her wedding dress. The beautiful sheath of silk, the gorgeous creamy color, was as lovely as she remembered. Beside her, Heather carried the veil, a long swath of fairy-light gossamer. Tears sprang to her eyes, and putting her hands to her face, Cara let down her guard and began to cry. Her girls encircled her, holding her tight, laughing, crying.

  “Oh. My. God,” she stammered, wiping the tears from her face. “Where’s that glass of champagne?”

  Emmi thrust the tall flute with the delightfully bubbling pinkness into her hand.

  Cara raised her glass in the air. “You girls… you wonderful, beautiful, strong, powerful, bighearted women. My best friends, my family. I could not have reached this moment without all of you at my side. You’ve helped me each step of the way. I love y’all so much.” The sentiment became overwhelming. Cara felt the tears begin to stream. “I’m getting married!”

  * * *

  CARA LOOKED AT the diamond eternity band on her left finger. It caught the last rays of sunlight at the end of this perfect day.

  She was a married woman. Again. She’d woken up this morning Cara Rutledge and would go to sleep Cara Rutledge-Wyatt. She’d signed her name with a hyphen. A compromise, she thought. Wasn’t that what marriage was all about?

  She looked around the house. The sun was setting somewhere off in the west. The ocean was deepening in color, while the sky blazed with streaks of deep blue and gold. All was quiet now. The guests had left, calling out their good-byes and congratulations and leaving a tower of unfinished cake, empty champagne bottles, glasses on every surface, and a pile of gaily wrapped gifts in the corner. Two to four, the invitation to the open house had said. The party had lasted until eight. She laughed. Her wedding had been a smash. One for the books. Who knew?

  The front door opened, and looking up, she saw David walking in, a bit unsteady on his feet. She opened her arms and he stepped into them.

  “They’re gone,” he said in a low voice. His kiss was deep and amorous, far too much for a house full of people. “Heather has Hope for the night.”

  He lifted her hand and gazed at the diamond band that sat beneath the stunning diamond engagement ring. “So, we did it, eh, Mrs. Rutledge-Wyatt?”

  She groaned. “Lord, that’s a mouthful. What have I done?”

  He laughed, a sonorous sound deep in his chest that she always found both sexy and comforting. “You can always change it to Wyatt.”

  She looked into his eyes. “I can, can’t I?” She released herself from his arms and went to gather three glasses sitting on the hall table.

  Nightfall was settling in fast. Cara and David walked from room to room, picking up glasses and plates, moving at a leisurely pace. She couldn’t bear to talk anymore. Her cheeks hurt from smiling. She simply wanted to walk the house, empty now, so she could see the details of the woodwork, the heart-pine floors, the built-in bookshelves.

  There was a lot of square footage to the house, but it didn’t feel big. Curves, interesting nooks, surprise gardens, walkways to different wings, made the house feel cozy in the European manner. Yet it was distinctly southern lowcountry. She readily saw why it appealed to David. He appreciated good architectural design, and like his house on Dewees, this one made her feel connected to the outdoors.

>   She took her time, especially in the kitchen.

  “This is the crown jewel of a home,” David said. “Where the lady of the house reigns.”

  “You mean the cook, the baker, the chief bottle washer?” She looked at all the top-of-the-line appliances, the well-built cabinets, the Viking stove. “I can hardly boil water. But I must say, if ever I wanted to, I would want to in this kitchen. It’s perfect.” She pointed at the brick pizza oven. “You’d have fun with that.”

  “I would.” He laughed. “I make a mean pizza dough.”

  They moved on to the other wing of the house, where three bedrooms nestled. She paused in one with gables. “This would be perfect for Hope,” she said.

  As she walked through the rooms, Cara let her fingertips graze the woodwork, the counters, the stair railing. The house was a tabula rasa, a blank paper on which a buyer could create anything she wanted.

  “What do you think of the place?” he asked her. “Now that you’ve spent a day in it?”

  “What’s not to love? It’s a perfect house.” She turned to face him. “We should find a house like this, I think.”

  He went to the bar and found a chilled bottle of champagne. He opened it, releasing the loud signature pop. Cara walked across the room to join him. She found two clean glasses and set them on the counter. He poured the wine to the top, waited for the bubbles to subside, then topped it off.

  “To my wife,” he said, raising his glass.

  “To my husband,” Cara said, clinking his. Their eyes met over the rims of their glasses.

  “I’m exhausted,” she confessed, kicking off her heels. She looked at her wedding gown, still as gorgeous as when she’d first put it on. “It is a pretty dress. I hate to take it off.”

  “Then don’t,” he said. “Yet.” He took her hand. “Let’s catch the last view of the day.”

  He led her to the deck and helped her to sit in a cushy chair. The last rays of the sun streaked over the blackened sea. She leaned back into the cushion and sipped her wine, reflecting on the day.