“But he’s not asking you to quit your job, Suz. Like you said, he’s asking you to give up your very identity. You’d no longer be an American citizen with all of our family’s heritage and tradition. You’re moving a long way from the poor Irish farmers who came to this country looking for a better way of life.”
“Wait, now you’re saying I did the right thing by leaving?”
“No, I’m saying I understand why you panicked. You were right to take time to think about it. Did you overreact? A bit, but you’ve made a lot of very big changes in the last year and a half.” Mama flicked the towel at Susanna’s legs. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’m not so proud of myself, but—”
“Susanna!” She whirled around to see Aurora emerging from the pines and palmettos that lined the path to the beach. “What in the world?” Aurora called out. “You’re not supposed to be here.” The woman scurried up the deck steps wearing a mismatched outfit of a summer dress over jeans with an oversized men’s sweater that might have been the style in the 1950s.
“Came home to think.”
Aurora, with her white-blonde hair and bright red fingernails, circled the picnic bench where Mama sat and glared at Susanna through narrowed eyes.
Her testimony was a simple one-line pitch. “I went crazy and returned to my right mind, and to my God.”
“Listen to me.” Susanna flinched as Aurora jumped up on the bench, startling Mama. “You belong in a palace.” She fired her hand in the air, pointing east, toward the Atlantic and Brighton’s shores. “You don’t know, Susanna. You don’t know . . .”
“What don’t I know, Aurora?” The woman wafted so much between the natural and the supernatural that at any given moment she might be speaking from the Spirit or from the craziness of her own soul.
Let the hearer beware . . .
“Such a time as this.” She wagged her long, skinny finger at Susanna. “Such a time. Such a time.”
“That’s what Reverend Smith said.”
“Then there you have it.” Aurora jutted her hand to her waist, standing on the bench like a skinny, worn-out Wonder Woman. “Glo, what’s cooking?” She sniffed the air.
“You know what’s cooking, Aurora. You hungry?” Mama exchanged a glance with Susanna. She always leaned toward Aurora being crazy. But Susanna knew better. Aurora had declared, “The prince is coming,” just days after Susanna met her prince under Lovers’ Oak.
She didn’t know he was a prince, but somehow Aurora knew.
“I am, Glo.” Just like that, Aurora shifted gears, jumped down off the bench, and followed Mama through the kitchen door.
But when she glanced back at Susanna, the glint in her eye ignited a flame in Susanna’s spirit.
“Don’t be afraid,” she said. “Fear is the opposite of faith. And without faith—” She shook her head. “You can’t please Him.”
For moments after Aurora went inside, Susanna burned with the fire of truth, leaning against the deck rail, exhaling the embers of doubt and fear.
This wasn’t about giving up her citizenship but about giving up all of herself. The final call of God was to surrender all of her plans to Him—her identity, who she thought she was and wanted to be.
What did it matter what country she belonged to in this world when she was a citizen of God’s glorious kingdom?
And how many times in her life had she been willing to surrender her heavenly citizenship for the momentary pleasures of this world?
Far too often.
Her heart churned with a blend of joy and grief. Joy at what Jesus afforded her. Grief at how little she understood its power. Loving Nathaniel was also about loving her Lord and being true to Him above all else.
As she made her way down the sandy path to the beach, Susanna’s heart whispers came to life. “I know You can fix the mess I’ve made, but help my heart to believe,” she prayed. “Tell Nathaniel to call me? Or listen to my gazillion voice mails? Lord, help my weak, frail heart.”
Heading north on the beach, into the wind, with the light of the stars and waterfront houses guiding her, she struggled to keep the flame of truth alive.
She now added guilt to the battle of doubt and fear. She should’ve never left Brighton.
Up ahead, a small light bounced over the sand. Someone was walking her way. A man. He had broad, square shoulders and a long, even gait.
She knew that stance. That stride.
Nathaniel?
She picked up her pace, and when she caught the glint of his glossy black hair in the bold white light burning from the edge of the Island B&B, she kicked up her heels and began running on the smooth wet sand.
“Nathaniel!” The crashing waves roared against the shore. She saw him quicken his own pace. She fired into his arms the moment she reached him. “Oh my gosh, you’re here. You’re here.”
He caught her up, lifting her off the ground, swinging her around, kissing her cheek. “I’m sorry, love, I’m sorry. I should’ve never let you go.”
“No, no, it was me, babe, all me.”
He buried his face against her neck, and his warm breath sent chills skirting over her skin. “I was scared of losing you. I wanted to tell you.” He set her down. “I promise not to hide things again. Especially in matters of your heart and mine.”
“I promise not to overreact. This is a whole new life for me, Nathaniel, but I’m ready.” She exhaled. “I’m ready.”
“But if you aren’t, we can postpone—”
She rose up on her toes and kissed him, pressing her hands against the sides of his head, weaving her fingers through the silky threads of his hair. “I don’t want to wait. In fact, I was flying home to you—”
His kiss stole her breath and invoked warm waves of passion, each crashing sensation eroding her fears and awakening her love. When he broke the magic of the moment by lifting his lips from hers, she swooned against him.
“It feels like forever since I’ve seen you.”
“Susanna, two years ago when we stood on this beach, right after Adam broke things off, I told you I could never marry you.” He lifted her chin, and by the way he tipped his head, she could see love reflected in his eyes by the beachside lighting. “The law prevented me. But tonight I tell you I am desperate to marry you. Even if you don’t renounce your American citizenship, I will marry you.”
“Nathaniel, your political enemies will have you for lunch.”
“And I’ll have them for dessert. I must have you in my life. I’ve no doubt the Lord brought you to me, and I’m going to trust Him for the outcome of our union. If they destroy me, then let Him see to them.”
“Funny.” She smoothed her hand over his chest. “But I was flying home to tell you I will do what you and the law ask. This morning Reverend Smith reminded me I’m more than a citizen of the US or Brighton, but a citizen of God’s kingdom.” She stepped out of his embrace, collecting her feelings, gathering them into words. “It’s like . . . wow . . . the largeness I’ve felt in my heart for the past two years, like there was something more, suddenly made sense. I’m not just Susanna Truitt, American girl, or Brighton princess, I’m a daughter of the King of Heaven.”
With each declaration of truth, joy carved a new path in her heart.
“And I’m a son of that very same kingdom.”
“So it doesn’t matter if I’m American or Brightonian as long as I’m following Him. Serving my Lord.”
“Susanna, my American love.” He dropped to one knee. “Marry me. Please.” He fumbled for something in his pocket. She smiled when the cool sensation of platinum slid down her finger.
“My ring! You found it.” She knelt in front of him.
“Rollins brought it to me. I thought I was a goner until Stephen came along and kicked me in the britches.”
“Oh, God bless Stephen. Nathaniel, I’ve been so foolish. Please forgive me—”
“Forgive me.”
“Absolutely, and yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll become a full-blown B
righton citizen. What does it matter as long as we are together?”
His kiss was tender and sweet, then ardent and passionate as he enveloped her in his arms and sank down on the beach.
When the doorbell rang in the middle of Friday afternoon, Susanna opened the door to find Jonathan, Nathaniel’s aide, standing on the veranda in knee breeches, waistcoat, cravat, and white stockings with gold buckle shoes.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Milady.” The man bowed, presenting her with a sealed envelope. “An invitation from the king. I will await your reply.”
“When did you get here?” She took the envelope, flipping it over to see the back. It was plain and white, but composed of thick, pressed linen. “We’re meeting for dinner at six. What’s this about?”
“Does the lady wish me to read the invitation for her?”
Susanna laughed. This was over the top. “No, the lady does not.”
“Suz, who’s at the door?” Avery shoved in next to her, pressing her shoulder against the doorjamb. “Jonathan, dude, Halloween isn’t for seven months. But kicking costume.”
“Whatever do you mean?” He speared her with a long, hard gaze. “I’m delivering a missive for His Royal Highness, King Nathaniel II.”
“A missive? Well, la-te-da.” Avery draped her arm over Susanna’s shoulder and tapped the invitation. “What does the missive say?”
Susanna turned toward the living room as she tugged the stiff stock card from the envelope. Inside was an elegant invitation engraved in navy script.
It would be my honor
if you would join me
this evening
7:00 p.m.
Goose bumps ran down her arms and tingled over her scalp as she studied the words, trying to read between the lines. “Jon, what’s he up to?” she said, returning to the door. “Join him for what?”
“What answer shall I give His Majesty?” Jonathan remained in character, stiff and unemotional, keeping his eyes fixed on the far corner of the veranda. Yet he was not quite able to hide the twitch on the edge of his lips.
“Tell him yes, but just exactly for what will I be joining him?”
Jon snapped his fingers at a nearby SUV with tinted windows. Liam popped out wearing his customary dark suit—thank goodness, something that made sense in this scene—carrying a large box tied with an enormous purple bow. He dashed up the steps to hand it to Susanna.
“And this is?”
“For this evening, milady. Your carriage will be along at six forty precisely.”
“Carriage? Six forty? Jon, Nathaniel is ten minutes away. Five if there’s no traffic. I can drive myself.”
“Six forty, milady.”
She made a face. Something was up. “All right . . . Does he require anything else of me? This isn’t about the citizenship oath, is it?”
Jonathan stepped off the veranda with a bow, still very much in the role of royal footman. Inside the house, Avery hovered, begging Susanna to open the box.
“Hold your horses.” She set the gift on the kitchen table, thinking, wondering, fingering the silky purple bow. “What do you think this is about?”
“Suz, he’s romancing you. Go with it. Don’t overthink it. Heck, you never know how long this kind of stuff will last.”
Susanna made a face. “How would you know, Dr. Love?”
“Locker room talk.” Avery shoved the box toward Susanna. “Open it!”
Susanna grinned, her expectation pinging. “This is kind of fun.” She loosened the ribbon and lifted the box lid. Shoving back a layer of white tissue paper, she sighed, tears springing to her eyes when she saw the pale mauve satin gown. “Oh my, Granny’s wedding dress.” She slipped her fingers through the spaghetti straps and lifted the sixty-four-year-old dress from the box. “Aves.” She drilled her sister with a steely stare. “Where did he get this?”
“Me, of course.” Pure. Without guile.
“And why did you give him this dress?” Susanna held the gown against her with trembling, adrenaline-charged hands.
“I was digging around in Granny’s things and—”
“You found the dress and gave it to Nathaniel?” Susanna inspected the lace and sequin flowers and the gold cord appliqué. “It’s been cleaned and pressed.”
“Well, you didn’t want to wear it wrinkled, did you?”
“Avery Mae.” Susanna reached out to pinch her sister’s arm. “You tell me what’s going on right now.”
But the lithe volleyball star ducked out of the way. “You know what? You need to learn to live in the moment.” She scooped a handful of M&M’s from the dish on the kitchen counter. “I’m out of here. Volleyball practice.” She scooped up her gym bag. “Hey, Suz, your gold Louboutins will go great with that dress.”
“Yes, but they’re in Brighton. And I’m only hanging out at Nathaniel’s cottage, right?”
“Suit yourself.” Avery shrugged, reaching for the doorknob.
“Right, Avery?”
“Whatever.” The door clapped behind Avery.
“Avery!” But she was gone.
Susanna turned back to Granny’s gown. It was beautiful. Expectation bloomed into excitement as she dashed upstairs to try it on.
She’d discovered Granny’s wedding dress when she was eleven and begged to try it on. When Granny finally relented, Susanna stood in front of the hallway mirror, her lean preteen body lost in the bodice and wide skirt, but her womanly heart was mesmerized.
She’d promised herself then and there she’d wear the gown for her wedding.
Someday. When true love found her. But once she became engaged to Nathaniel and started taking appointments with Brighton designers, she knew she’d never be able to wear something this simple and vintage to marry a king.
In her room, she turned on the light and closed the shades. Shimmying out of her jeans and top, she stepped through the crinolines and tulle, drawing the silky skirt over her hips, sensing the history and tradition of her grand-parents’ devotion slide along her skin.
The dress fit without her needing to suck in her gut or her breasts flowing over the top. Dashing to the closet, she shoved open the door for a pair of shoes. Maybe Avery had a pair she could wear.
She gasped when she flipped on the light. Oh bother, more tears.
There on the tile floor, neatly posed, were her gold-bedazzled Christian Louboutins. All the way from Brighton.
Susanna grinned, hugging the shoes to her chest. Thank You, Jesus. She didn’t care how they got there, just that they did. Whatever Nathaniel was planning for this evening, she would embrace it.
Because love was proving itself over and over, and conquering all her fears.
On Friday evening precisely at six forty, Susanna stepped onto the veranda, her gold Louboutin shoes resounding against the wide boards.
She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with the fragrance of the island. With the fragrance of love.
For the first time since she had said yes to Nathaniel, she felt like a princess.
The breeze dipped a bit lower and swished the hem of Granny’s gown, twirling the folds against her legs. She glanced down to see the gold and crystal shoes sparkling in the early evening light.
Gracie had insisted on sending a stylist from her salon to do Susanna’s makeup and hair. Lexi arrived at three thirty with her bag of magic tricks to fashion Susanna’s hair into a loose updo with long golden curls dangling about her neck, and to apply her makeup.
A laugh rumbled in her chest. She pressed her hand over her lips, keeping her smile inside, growing wider and warmer.
I am in love with a king. With Nathaniel of Brighton.
She’d been so overwhelmed with moving to Brighton—adjusting to a new country and culture, developing her young relationship with Nathaniel, and planning a wedding—she’d not considered her own royal reality.
Susanna raised her chin to the breeze as it twisted her curls about her shoulders. Reverend Smith was right. Her new sta
tion in life afforded her such great opportunities for good.
Oh Lord, use me to make Your Son’s name famous.
She had no idea what Nathaniel had planned for this evening—he’d been unavailable all day today. Something about kingdom business. But she’d planned to surrender her heart fully to him tonight.
If love demanded her whole identity and being, then she’d give it. Unreservedly. Fear had no place in the heart of a princess.
The sound of horse hooves resounding against the asphalt drew her attention to the road as a pair of matched white mares with gleaming coats turned down the driveway drawing a glossy black and gold open carriage with red spoke wheels.
Susanna gasped, pressing her hand over her heart, falling against the porch post.
Jonathan, still dressed in his footman costume, rode on the back. He hopped down when the carriage stopped at the veranda steps, bowing and offering his hand. “Your carriage awaits.”
“This is too much . . . too much. Jon, where are we going?” She slipped her hand into his as he aided her into the carriage, settling her onto the rich red leather seats.
Jonathan patted the side of the carriage and spoke to the driver. “Be off with you now.” He hopped onto the back as the driver chirruped to the horses.
“Burt, hey.” Susanna leaned forward, glancing up at the man steering the horses. “How’d you get this gig?” Burt, a longtime family friend and customer of the Rib Shack, was the owner of Glynn Carriages.
But this was no carriage she’d ever seen him drive before. He wore a solemn expression along with a crisp, dark suit, cravat, and top hat.
“Milady.” His gaze twinkled down on her as he tipped the brim of his hat.
Susanna sat back, smiling. Nathaniel was winning her all over again, shining his light of love in the hidden recesses of her heart, those private places she felt too guarded to reveal. Even when she was with Adam, she hid those secret rooms from his heart’s eye.
But Nathaniel’s efforts spoke to her, drew her out of hiding. He made her feel what she’d longed to feel since she first hid in her bedroom closet, turning it into a magical garden as her parents fought the War of the Truitts. Safe. He made her feel truly, entirely safe.
A March Bride (A Year of Weddings Novella) Page 7
