by Peggy Webb
And he couldn’t make promises he might never be able to keep. Fate has a way of making liars of us all. Look what had happened to his dad. His father had surely never planned to leave his mother in that way, and yet there they were, two people deeply in love, separated by an event totally beyond their control.
Where was wisdom when Daniel needed it? Where was faith?
Soft light flooded around them, the silvery gleam of a full moon and the glow of stars shining unhampered into a room stripped bare of curtains. And all of sudden Daniel thought of Job, of how he’d railed against God for all his misfortunes. His answer had not been a pat on the head and the reassurance that all his petty strivings would come to fruition and his daily petitions be granted. No. His answer had been “Where were you when I hung the moon and set the stars in place? Have you ever given orders to the morning or shown the dawn its place? Who are you to question?”
And Daniel saw how he had been his own undoing, how what he’d believed to be his unshakable faith had actually been his own arrogance…for thinking he had all the answers. He was merely a speck in the universe, a tiny blip on the cosmic screen.
He knew nothing…and yet what he knew was sufficient for the day. He knew that the heart is the surest guide to life. His dad, who had been a student of all the great philosophers and had collected their wisdom through the years, often quoted Pascal: “The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing.” And what was that wisdom of the heart except angels whispering to us the great cosmic truths?
The trick was to listen.
Daniel had been talking too much. It was time to start listening.
“I don’t know what the future holds, Sky…for any of us. All I know is that a future without you would be too bleak to contemplate. Sometimes great love comes with great heartache. Look at Mom and Dad.”
“Oh, Daniel…I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”
“If I called Mom and asked her whether she’d make the same choice if she’d known the outcome, what do you think she’d say?”
“I don’t know her that well but from what I’ve seen, I’d say her answer would be yes.”
“That’s the choice I make, Skylar. To take the risk, to love you with my whole heart no matter what the outcome. What is your choice?”
Her answer would consign him to heaven or to hell. He kept his arms around her while he waited for her answer, holding her loosely so she would be free to come or to go.
“My answer is yes, Daniel.” A smile lit her face. “Yes!”
Daniel kissed her softly, then let her go. “I’ll see you soon, darling. We have a date at the river at sunset.”
In that quiet time just before evening when the sun was low in the west, painting the sky and the river with gold, Daniel stood underneath a live oak tree high on a bluff and married the woman of his dreams. She came to him in white, not a traditional wedding gown but something soft and simple that floated around her when she walked toward him.
She wore a garland in her hair and smelled of gardenias. And when she put her hand into his and smiled, Daniel knew she loved him truly.
His family had gathered there on the bluff to witness his joy—Emily holding hands with Jake, Hannah giving the victory sign, and his mother with a smile on her face and her head held high. And though his father still slept the deep troubled sleep, there was a strong sweet spirit hovering around Anne that could only be Michael.
With his friend and fellow-minister there to make it official, Daniel said his vows to Skylar. And when it was her turn to speak, she took his breath away.
“With joy and thankfulness I give myself to you, heart, soul and mind. I pledge that I shall always love you truly all our days here on earth and beyond…throughout time eternal, until our love is perfected and we ascend to the heavens to become stars, binary and bright, ever circling in each other’s orbit.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
From the diary of Anne Beaufort Westmoreland:
September 27, 2001
They had to unlock the doors of the nursing home to let me in. Fortunately the director was very understanding about it. He said, “Mrs. Westmoreland, it’s not every day a son gets married.”
I would have come back whether they’d liked it or not. If they hadn’t unlocked the doors I’d have climbed through the window because that’s how I am. Indomitable. Just ask Michael.
I know, I know. I have to stop that. I have to stop thinking of Michael as the person I always turn to, the one I run to when I’m hurting or sad or lonely, but most of all the one I race to when I want to laugh and talk about everything under the sun and make wonderful, remarkable love until both our eyes pop out.
I told him all about the wedding after I got back, and I didn’t leave out a thing. Not even the reception at Babe’s. Michael would have laughed his head off at that one. In fact he’d have enjoyed everything about this wedding, including the fact that it wasn’t held in a church. Mountains have always been Michael’s cathedral. He used to tell me how he felt when he’d reached a summit, the sense of awe that stole over him, the wonder.
Sometimes I think that if I could get him back to the top of a mountain he’d be all right. He’d wake up and say, “I don’t know what took me so long, darling.”
Anyhow…back to the reception. Skylar’s friend Pete and his wife put on what they called a shindig with barbecue and plenty of beer and lots of good Southern hospitality. He had a band and everything, and when Skylar took the stage and sang love songs to Daniel, she brought the house down. Clarice had a blast. Danced every dance. Most of them with a director from LA who just happened to be in town scouting locations for a new film. (Lord, I hope it’s not going to be one of those dreary movies that make the South look like something out of Tobacco Row.)
I said to her, “Clarice, don’t you even think of marrying again until Michael comes back.” Of course, you know what she said, “Anne, marriage is not what I have on my mind.” Then she rolled her eyes and smacked her lips and wiggled her hips. Typical, delightful Clarice. Somebody in charge should have cloned her.
I had a good time, which surprised me. I told Michael so. I said, “Darling, you’d better wake up soon or you’re going to miss all the fun.” I even told him about the new lawyer in town who flirted with me. I said, “Listen here, my love, I can still turn heads so you’d better hurry up and come back to me or else somebody else is liable to snatch me up and run.”
Not that I would go. Not that I would ever leave my Michael. And certainly not that I would or could ever love anyone else.
There is only one man for me and that’s my Michael. But just suppose complacency is not what he needs right now. What if a little worry might shake him out of his deep sleep? I’ll try anything to have him back in my arms once more.
He looks so peaceful lying there in the moonlight. Almost as if he’s dreaming sweet dreams. And maybe he is. Maybe he’s dreaming about Daniel and Skylar honeymooning at Belle Rose. (Emily and Jake left for Atlanta right after the reception, said they had some things to take care of there before their wedding. And Hannah’s staying with Clarice so Daniel and Skylar can have the house all to themselves.) Maybe Michael is remembering the day we bought Belle Rose, how he said we’d have to christen every room, how he carried me over the threshold the day we moved in although we’d been married six years. Six years or sixty. With Michael every day was a honeymoon.
Lord, I remember how long it took us to christen every room—years, what with Michael’s being off on a mountain and me having the children. After they came it made our project harder. But in some ways more fun. Lord, we giggled like teenagers when we’d sneak into the bathroom in the middle of the day and lock ourselves in so the children wouldn’t walk in on us. And when things really heated up as they always do between us, Michael would cover my mouth so the children wouldn’t hear.
I’ve always been a noisy lover. That’s one of the things Michael loved about me.
Loves. He still loves me. I know h
e does although he can no longer take me in his arms and tell me so. I have to believe that or else I’ll go mad.
I have to believe he’ll come back to me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
When Daniel had asked Skylar where she wanted to go on their honeymoon, she’d said, “Anywhere with you,” and that’s how they’d ended up at Belle Rose. For a number of reasons. It was one of the most romantic settings Daniel could think of, and it was nearby.
As he drove the three miles from Babe’s he knew he’d chosen wisely. In his present condition, he’d have failed the endurance test of a drive across the country or a long plane ride. Skylar was his wife and he wanted to know her in the biblical sense. Old-fashioned, but true.
She was so quiet. He squeezed her hand. “What are you thinking, Sky?”
“I’m thinking about the reception.”
He laughed. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. But so much more. Letting me have it at a nightclub was the most generous thing you could have done for me. It showed that you were totally honest when you told me I don’t have to change a thing…thank you, Daniel.”
“It was my pleasure.” He was glad she’d recognized the reception as symbolic, glad she’d told him, but now he wanted to move forward, not look backward. “There is one thing I want you to change, though.”
“You can’t be serious?”
He loved that about her, that she faced challenges head-on, spitting bullets and shooting fire.
“Oh, I’m dead serious.”
“Let’s hear it, then.”
“I want you to change clothes.”
She laughed so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes. Then suddenly, Belle Rose was in sight, rising up out of the moonlight in magnificent splendor, a place steeped in the past, a place strong enough to withstand a war and still provide shelter to generations. A place of endings and beginnings. A place of love.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Westmoreland.”
“Pinch me. I must be dreaming.”
“Oh, I plan to do more than that. Much, much more,” he said, then he lifted her from the car and carried her over the threshold.
Hannah had made sure the lights were burning, then she’d picked roses putting on their last hoorah from the garden and arranged them in vases all over the house. The Zephrine Drouhin with its spicy sweet fragrance perfumed the entire downstairs and followed Daniel all the way up the staircase.
“You can’t mean to carry me up all these flights of stairs,” Skylar said, but he could tell she was pleased.
“Watch me.”
“I think I’ve married a virile man.” She nuzzled his neck. “Of course, it’s too early to tell yet. Not without further proof.”
“Can you wait till we get to the landing?”
“Hmmm…maybe.”
Daniel laughed for sheer joy. This is what love should be—the easy banter, the quick laughter, the fun. “I don’t know why I didn’t do this sooner,” he said, and Skylar’s laughter pealed through the antebellum house.
“Let’s see,” she said. “We’ve known each other nine days. I don’t think you could have done this much sooner.”
“I’d have married you the day I met you.”
“And I’d have said yes.”
He pushed open his door and spread his bride upon the bed, and there, surrounded by the scent of roses and the glow of candlelight, Daniel made Skylar his own.
So this is love, Skylar thought.
Everything that had gone before paled by comparison. This was magic, pure and simple, and she’d known from the minute Daniel entered her. When she thought about it, they were practically strangers, and yet Skylar felt as if she’d known him always, not just in this life but in all the lives that had gone before.
He was heart of her heart, bone of her bone, soul of her soul. They were completely natural together, nothing held back, nothing taboo, just two people who were meant to be together loving each other.
For hours….
Afterward, Daniel settled her down with caresses that felt like silk, then tucked her arms and legs into all the perfect places and drifted off in midsentence. One minute he was saying, “I love you, Sky…” and the next he was fast asleep.
Skylar watched him sleep because she didn’t want to miss a thing. She didn’t want to miss a single moment of being with Daniel. He slept deeply and peacefully, a half smile on his lips.
“I love you, Daniel,” she whispered and kissed him softly on the lips, but he didn’t stir. Not even when she felt a cramp in her leg and had to shift position. The sleep of innocence, she thought and then smiled.
They’d left the French doors open because the weather was still mild, almost like summer, and the night breeze that drifted through was balmy and heavily perfumed with roses. Skylar gently untangled herself from Daniel and went to the balcony. The gardens of Belle Rose looked ethereal in the moonlight, thousands of sweetly scented blossoms underplanted with fragrant lavender and cascading over the marble arms and legs and faces of Greek statues. There was Hebe who bore cups to the gods, Athena whose wisdom was legendary and Venus the goddess of love.
Skylar leaned over the balcony breathing in the scented night, and suddenly arms slid around her from behind.
“What’s the matter, darling? Couldn’t sleep?”
“Hmmm.” She leaned back into the curve of his arm. “It seemed such a waste of time.”
“So it is.” He kissed the back of her neck, sending delicious shivers all over her, and she turned into him, kissing him with a fervor that was contagious. They kissed until kissing was not enough.
“Here?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she murmured as he lifted her gown, and then, anchoring herself to the balcony railing, she said it again, over and over, “yes, yes, yes, yes.”
Afterward he picked her up and carried her back to the bed where she fell into a deep and dreamless sleep safe in the haven of her husband’s arms.
Skylar woke slowly, stretching like her cat, and when she felt herself in an empty bed she sat up alarmed. Daniel laughed.
“I’m here, my love.”
And so he was…standing in the doorway holding a silver tray and wearing nothing except a big grin. “I thought you might like breakfast in bed,” he said, and she held her arms wide open.
“As long as you’re the main course.”
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mrs. Westmoreland. You’re the main course.”
He set the tray on the bedside table, then burrowed under the sheets and proved his point.
Her delight was noisy and prolonged, then afterward she lay against the pillows sighing. “I really love the way you think,” she said, and he leaned over her laughing, then popped a fresh strawberry into her mouth.
“Eat up, my love. You’re going to need your strength.”
“Is that a promise?”
“It’s a promise.”
She opened her mouth for another strawberry, but he had other things in mind, delicious things, as a matter of fact, things that lasted the better part of the morning. When they finally surfaced, laughing and sated and wearing strawberry juice and remnants of chocolate and cream, she gave her new husband an arch grin.
“I hope this place has a bath.”
“It does. Big enough for two.” He scooped her up and set her in an enormous tub then crawled in behind her. “Ahh. Just right.”
“Don’t you think we’re missing something?”
“What?”
“Water.”
“Oh, that.” He turned on the faucets, adjusted the temperature, then added bubble bath. As the bubbles rose to the tips of her breasts, he said, “I’ve always wanted to frolic in bubbles with a sexy woman.”
“Any sexy woman?”
“No. It had to be you.”
“I know that tune,” Skylar said. Then she grabbed a bar of soap and holding it like a microphone, began to croon the love song to Daniel, meaning it with her whole heart.
&n
bsp; Chapter Twenty-Six
From the diary of Anne Beaufort Westmoreland:
September 30, 200l
It has been three days since the wedding and as Mother said when she dropped by to visit Michael yesterday, “Nobody’s seen hide nor hair of Daniel and Skylar.”
She’s still miffed that she didn’t get to come to the wedding, but I had to remind her three times that she was sick, and besides that, Daniel and Skylar didn’t have a big church wedding. Frankly we were all relieved that she couldn’t come. That way we didn’t have to tell her the reception was at Babe’s.
Oh, I know, I know, that was cowardly, but the older Mother gets, the more judgmental she becomes. I can just picture the ruckus she’d have made over a member of her family (particularly Daniel!) having a wedding reception in a nightclub with a big neon sign of naked girls that lights up the whole parking lot.
Clarice was delighted, of course. When she first saw the sign she laughed so hard she had to hang on to the side of the car. Then she said, “Blue neon nudes with pink neon tits. I love it!”
That’s Clarice for you. Totally outrageous. Michael always got such a kick out of her company.
When she came to visit yesterday she brought a brass horn with one of those big red bulbs on the end. “Like Harpo Marx used,” she said. Then she laid it on the bed beside Michael’s hand and said, “Since you won’t get your butt up from there and talk to us, why don’t you just toot this every now and then to let us know what you’re thinking. Once if you agree with what we’re saying, and twice if you don’t.”
Then she picked up his hand and put it right over the rubber bulb and sat back down and commenced to talking, as my mother would say. She pretends not to like Clarice, but I know that she does. Why else would she have gone to Clarice’s defense when the whole town talked about how she’d married her second husband before her first was cold in the ground?
Anyhow, back to the horn…Clarice was saying, “I’ll bet you if Michael had been at that wedding he’d have pulled Daniel aside and said, ‘Son, don’t you ever let anything come before your wife. Not even your children.’”
