by Rachel Hauck
“Say yes, Suz. Yes, we can go.”
“Susanna?” Mama bent to see her face. “You’ve gone pale. I guess you didn’t expect this.”
“No.” Every limb of her body weakened as she shoved the invitation back into the envelope. This didn’t make sense. She’d not heard from him since he left in July. He’d put Jon in charge of approving the garden. She’d assumed he didn’t want to talk to her.
“So, we can go? See, look.” Avery fumbled through the contents of the envelope. “‘Guest.’ That’s me. And here’s one inviting you to stay at the Parrsons House as a guest of the queen.” She clasped her hands together. “Oh my gosh, Suz, who gets an invitation to a coronation? No one! We have to go.”
The edges and lights of the porch blended together in the cold breeze. But the idea of seeing him again warmed her all over.
What are you doing, Nate? How could she go? Why would she go? She couldn’t even be sure he’d invited her, though she found it hard to imagine the disapproving Jonathan adding her name to the guest list.
“Suz, come on, we have to—”
“No, we don’t, Avery.” Susanna tapped the heavy invitation against her palm, then squeezed between Mama and her sister to head for the kitchen door. “I’ve got to prep for dinner. Mama, did Catfish bring the meat from the walk-in?”
“You can’t be serious.” Avery blocked Susanna’s path to the door. “We don’t have to go, but we should go. We’d be crazy not to, Suz. Crazy. Give me one good reason.”
“I’ll give you three. I can’t afford it. I can’t afford it. I can’t afford it. I don’t even have a place to live, Avery. I owe Blaine Jessup sixteen hundred dollars for my office rent, and the invoice for my new website arrived yesterday. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t want to go. It’s two weeks away, and we just now got the invitation? How rude. Clearly we are a second thought, or worse, and most likely, it’s a joke.”
Could this be from Mrs. Butler? Getting back at her for upstaging her benefit. Or from the person who took the picture of Susanna on the deck with Nate?
“Who cares about rude? Or being a joke? We’re invited to the coronation of a European prince.”
“Not if it’s a joke, Avery.” Susanna rapped lightly on the girl’s forehead. “Hello, McFly.”
“We’re guests of Her Majesty, the queen. The quueeenn … How can you not want to go?” Avery spoke with her arms waving, her body jiggling and wiggling. “Mama, make her go.”
“Don’t rightly see how I can. Didn’t work when she was three, and it certainly won’t work now that she’s grown.” Mama’s eyes met Susanna’s. Follow your heart. “She doesn’t want to go. I reckon she knows what she’s doing. But it doesn’t look like a joke to me, Susanna.” Of course not. Because it wasn’t. “Now come on, Avery, have you had your supper?” Mama shoved her youngest toward the kitchen. “If you’re not going to the movies, I could use you around here.”
“Suz, please, please …” Avery clung to her as Mama tried to guide her inside. “Think about it, okay?”
The melody of the Rib Shack, the music of the Atlantic, the songs of the island rose around her and moved her heart. The sounds of home. Of comfort. If she did nothing else with her life, if this was all God had for her, the Rib Shack, the folks, Avery, then so be it. Let her do it with her whole heart. With holy contentment.
Then the weight of the envelope became evident to her senses. There was more for her. She felt it, like a largeness in her spirit that she couldn’t see or define or grasp with her hands, but it made her strive for something more.
Yet it began with having nothing at all. Total surrender.
She lightly traced Nathaniel’s seal with her fingers. The largeness was something she had to see with her spiritual eyes. The answer would come when she hid herself in God. Not her closet garden. Not in a life with Adam. Not in her career or hometown. Not in Nate.
In God.
A tidal sob crashed her heart, breaking her will and strength to stand. Dropping to the picnic bench, she let tears of repentance surrender the last piece of her stubborn heart to the One who bought her with his own life.
That one … she is mine.
She heard rustlings in the kitchen and dabbed her cheeks with the back of her hand. If Mama or Avery caught her crying, there’d be twenty-times-twenty questions.
The breeze shuffled by, calling her out to the beach. Down the path with the treasure of the invitation in her hand and heart, Susanna reached the beach and headed north. The pinkish gold of the sunset on her left, the deep blue of evening on her right.
She passed the spot where Adam confessed he’d found the right ring but not the right girl. She passed where Nate admitted the legal and royal restrictions on his right to love whom he wanted.
She passed the Rib Shack’s boundary lines and the edge of the angled deck lights.
Maybe the invitation wasn’t about going to Brighton for a king’s coronation, but about admitting she’d stuffed all her dreams into a relationship with a man instead of a relationship with Jesus.
He dreamed bigger dreams for her than she ever imagined. So why did she cling so tightly for so long?
A verse swirled in her thoughts, sinking deeper, her heart warmed by the Southern breeze.
How precious to me are your thoughts …
How vast is the sum of them! …
Outnumber the grains of sand.
Susanna stared at the stars and curled her toes in the sand. She had no clue of God’s thoughts toward her. But discovering one or two of them seemed like a worthy lifetime pursuit.
In the last edge of twilight, she gazed at the invitation. One thing she’d concluded about herself this summer was that she had to trust God, believing in the largeness, yet abandoning the outcome to him.
Yet, if she were honest, the invitation caused her to yearn for Nate and a very pleasing outcome. So how could she accept? It would make it all about her again.
Tipping her head back, she inhaled deep and made peace with the fact that God would have to boot her backside to Brighton with some kind of miracle. Why make it hard on herself? Make it hard on him. He was God after all.
As for Nate? King Nathaniel II? She made peace with him too. And the fact that when he rushed out of here last July, she’d seen him for the last time in her life.
SIXTEEN
Blame it on the moon, but Susanna couldn’t sleep. White light trumpeted through her bedroom window in the early hours of Wednesday.
Kicking back the covers, she decided to get up and shower. Her alarm clock would tell her to do it in an hour anyway.
For sure, she could get to work early now. Sneak an envelope with half of her rent money into Jessup’s office.
Crossing her dark room, she cut through a stray thread of moonlight aimed at her dresser, accenting the royal invitation. She remained at peace about not going.
Though Avery bugged her every hour, on the hour, last night. “Please?”
“No.”
Right now what Susanna needed was to get dressed and find coffee. Get to the office, follow up with prospective clients.
Plead with Jessup for more time on her rent. Dread, dread, dread.
Send her webmaster the pictures of “A King’s Garden.” He needed those today.
Christmas shop. Though it would be lean this year.
“Suz?” Gracie called from the living room.
“Gracie?” Susanna grabbed her shoes, hobbling them on as she angled out her door. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” If the woman rolled out of bed before nine, she groused all day about how she had to wake up with the chickens.
“I brought Starbucks.”
Coffee. Susanna raced down to the kitchen. A dejected-looking Gracie sat on an island stool. “I think I messed up.”
“Oh, Gracie, don’t tell me. Ethan?” Susanna reached for her coffee. She could be sympathetic while slurping caffeine. Besides, she’d been here many times with her friend. Lending an ear, lis
tening and nodding. Wrecking relationships was Gracie’s MO.
“Yes.” Gracie dropped her fist against the countertop, shoving the bag of Danish pastries toward Susanna. “I think … I …”
“What’s going on in here?” Aunt Rue arrived in the kitchen with her hair tied up in a sleeping turban and white plaster on her high, Botoxed cheeks. She stuck her nose in the Starbucks bag. “My nose sensed lattes. My ears heard girl talk.”
Gracie raised her head, peered at her aunt, and moaned. “Oh, great, is this what I have to look forward to in my senior years?”
“Senior? Bite your tongue.” Rue took a bold sip of Gracie’s latte. “Where’s mine?”
Gracie pushed her Danish and coffee cup toward her aunt. “I’m not hungry.”
“Oh, you’ve done gone and fallen in love, haven’t you?” Aunt Rue bit into the cheese Danish as if it were her last meal.
Susanna grinned. She was going to miss the ol’ broad once she moved out.
“I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”
Susanna paused mid-sip. “You what?” Unheard of. Impossible. Alert the media.
Aunt Rue patted Gracie’s arm. There-there. “Happened to me a hundred times. Don’t worry, you’ll get over it.”
“That’s just it, I don’t want to get over it.” Gracie stretched across the island and latched onto Susanna’s arm, hanging on for dear life. “Tell me what to do.”
“Are you serious? You’re in love?”
“Completely.”
“No, really?”
“Yes, really, and don’t judge me. Suz, what am I going to do?” Gracie hammered her fist against the counter.
“Love him. Go for it.”
“Love him? Go for it? That’s all you got? How can I love him? It’s only been five months. Who falls in love that fast? It’s impossible. Right? What do you know about someone after a few months? You knew Adam for twelve years, and, well, here you are, having girl talk at six thirty in the morning with a dysfunctional hair stylist and an old lady in search of the fountain of youth.”
“Elizabeth Grace, there is no need to insult me because you went and fell in love.”
“Bear with me, Auntie, I’m in pain.”
Susanna smacked her cup down to the counter. “Stop. Just stop. Melodrama doesn’t become you. Gracie, trust your heart. Trust that God is watching over you, guiding your steps.”
Could she preach a lesson she had barely learned herself? All these years she thought she and Gracie were polar opposites when it came to men. But they were exactly the same. Clinging to their fears instead of love.
Susanna with one man. Gracie with many. Neither one trusting. Neither one believing.
“But is he … watching over me?”
“God says he thinks so many thoughts about you, it’s impossible to count them. So, yeah, I think you have to go with he’s watching you. But don’t go with me, ask him.”
“Girls, it’s waaay too early in the morning to be talking religion.” Aunt Rue hooked her lip and shook her head, swatting the words from the air.
“I’m not talking religion, I’m talking faith, relationship, Jesus. Big diff,” Susanna said. “Gracie, it’s okay to let your heart love. You know Ethan is a good man.”
“You thought Adam was a good man.”
“He is, Gracie. Just because he realized he didn’t want to marry me doesn’t make him rotten.” Susanna sighed with yet another heart revelation.
“What if Ethan decides the same thing?”
“Can you let yourself have a positive thought? Please? And you know Adam did what needed to be done. It actually makes him all the more noble. He put an end to a really bad habit for both of us.”
“So … he was a hard habit to break?” Aunt Rue started swaying and singing. “I’m addicted to you baby …” Her voice faded when Susanna and Gracie stared at her. “I love the eighties and make no apologies.”
“The eighties, the seventies, the sixties …”
“Keep it up and I’ll return your Christmas present.”
“Gracie.” Susanna pried her friend’s fingers from her arm. “Let go. Trust. If you love Ethan, stop sabotaging it. Does he love you?”
“He says he does.” Such a sad face for admitting a man loved her.
“Then believe him. Why would he tell you he loves you if he doesn’t? He’s been hanging around for five months, putting off his own goal of sailing around the world even though you’ve still never told him you loved him back.”
“I know, I know.” Gracie flopped her head back with a moan. “Because the moment I do, it’s game over. Remember Hap Medina? I told him I loved him and within two weeks he’d split. Poof. The chase was over. He had me.”
“Love is not a game, Gracie.”
“Chicago,” Aunt Rue said with a bit of icing and Danish on the edge of her lip. “They sang that song. One of the great bands of the seventies and eighties, maybe of all time.”
Gracie pointed at Susanna, remembering. “Keenan Kilpatrick … left the moment I told him I loved him.”
“Gracie, he left when you confronted him about being married.”
“That’s even worse, Suz. How could I fall for a married man?”
Aunt Rue licked her fingers and continued to sing. The Botox had finally gone to her brain. “I’m not buying that the Beatles are the best band of all time.”
“We know, Rue, you think it’s the Rolling Stones,” Gracie said. “But Mick Jagger? Please.”
“He lied to you,” Susanna said.
“Mick Jagger?” Rue gaped at her.
“No, Keenan.”
“Mick Jagger lied to Keenan?”
“Oh my gosh, earth to Rue.” Gracie snapped her finger at the woman.
“I nearly met Mick Jagger at a London fashion show. His wife was modeling and I was a young fashion intern.”
Gracie made an “oh yeah” face at Susanna and mouthed, “Young?”
“I’m warning you, Gracie … coal in your stocking. Both of you.” Aunt Rue sat, sipping her latte. “Ah, those were the days.”
“Can we get back to me now? Suz, how do I know Ethan isn’t lying to me? Huh? He lives on a boat. He could be a serial killer for all I know.”
“You’ve met his family. His friends. It’s not like he lives in a vacuum. Your other boyfriends refused to hang around with your family and friends. Is Ethan like that?”
“He golfs with Daddy. Loves Mama’s cooking. She thinks he hung the moon.”
“Gracie, you’re making an argument for love.”
A shy smile conquered her grimace. “He is pretty amazing.”
“Then love him, Gracie. Sweetie, it’s time to grow up.” Susanna grabbed her latte and the bag with her Danish. “I’ve got to go, girls. Need to beat Jessup to the office. Gracie, want to meet for lunch? We can talk more.” She headed for the door. “And Rue, Led Zeppelin is the greatest band of all time.”
“Zeppelin? Oh no, come on.”
“Lunch is great, Suz. I’ve got clients until noon but after …”
“Call me. Rue, I’ll be out by the end of the week.”
“Oh, darling, no rush.”
Susanna grinned. Sure, now that she was plied with sweets and caffeine. On the veranda, Susanna inhaled the clean Georgia morning and erased the emotion of the kitchen conversation. This was her favorite part of the day. Morning. Clean and fresh. Pregnant with expectation.
Susanna started for her car, stopping on the top step when she spotted a pair of glittering shoes poised together on the sidewalk. Bedazzled, gold-crystal, four-inch heels with red soles along with a white envelope.
Susanna pressed her hand over her heart. Be still …
She knew these shoes. A special design of Christian Louboutin’s. She’d admired them online a few weeks ago when business was slow, and she spent most of the day surfing the web. She was just too embarrassed to arrive at work by nine and leave by ten thirty.
“Rue?” Susanna called toward the house, reachin
g around the back of the shoes for the envelope. “I think you have a present.” Probably from a designer friend or a zealous up-and-coming designer who wanted to be her intern.
Bribery by Louboutin. It didn’t stink.
But why were they on the sidewalk? Out of the box?
Susanna flipped to the front of the envelope, about to call for Rue one more time when she saw her name scrawled across the front.
She tore at the flap and pulled out a note written on the back of a bank receipt.
Go! A.
Susanna dashed into the yard. “Aurora?” She scanned the backyard tree line. “Aurora? Come out of the woods. I know you’re there.”
But the naked trees refused to give her up. Refused to give a glimpse of her white-blond hair.
Susanna read the note again. Go!
She’d just resolved not to go. She surrendered her will, her sense of largeness, with no plan of any outcome. This was real growth for her.
“Come on, God. Go? Really?”
Or was it God? Maybe this was all just crazy Aurora. But how did she know about the invitation? She’d left the Rib Shack before Avery showed up.
Susanna sat on the bottom step, kicked off her shoes, and gently slipped her foot into the Louboutins. Oh, Mama, never in her life … such shoe sweetness. They fit perfectly.
She raised her foot to admire the fit. Then stood. Oh, heaven, simply heaven. If she didn’t know better, she’d believe they’d been custom made for her.
Susanna dropped back down to the step, carefully removed the shoe, and dug her phone from her bag.
“Avery,” she said to voice mail. “We’re going. Don’t know how we can afford it, but we’re going. Call me when you get out of school.”
Pressing End, Susanna exhaled. With that call, there’d be no backing out now. She’d have to charge the airline tickets, indenture Avery to Mama for the rest of her life—which seemed like a fair exchange for a royal coronation—then work like crazy to get a few gardening or mulch-spreading jobs, but Susanna was saying yes.
Even if it was just a party in the street, there was no way she was going to miss dancing in those shoes at Nathaniel’s coronation.
