Rebecca held up a Vera Wang gown of luxurious off-white satin. Long-sleeved, cut on a bias with a squared neckline, it was a rhapsody of romance and modern grace. Instead of a veil, Hope had chosen to wear tiny white rosebuds and a feathered flower in her upswept hairdo.
“I can’t believe you’ve gained that much weight in two weeks,” Rebecca remarked as she zipped up the back of the dress.
“Is it too tight?” Hope asked.
“No. In fact, it fits better now than it did before. All you need is your shoes, and you’re ready to meet your groom.”
Bobby’s wife handed her a pair of off-white satin pumps, while Junior’s wife dabbed her face with a powder puff. Marissa touched up her lipstick. Rebecca handed her a bouquet of burgundy and white roses with white velvet ribbons as streamers.
Hope peered into the full-length mirror. “Am I ready?”
Rebecca’s reflection appeared in the mirror. “Are you, girlfriend?”
She turned and smiled at the four women. “Yes, I am. Lil Sis, go get Daddy.”
A minute later Patrick Sutton walked into the bedroom, his mouth gaping. “Oh, baby, you look beautiful.”
Hope’s chin quivered. “Daddy, please don’t make me cry.”
Patrick offered his arm, and she placed her hand on his sleeve. “Let’s go get you married.”
Rebecca preceded them as they made their way down to the beach, where a small crowd had gathered to witness the marriage of Hope Sutton to Theodore Howell. Theo and Christian stood off to the side, watching and waiting for the bride.
Hope smiled at Janie and Thomas Smith, Charlotte Field, who refused to throw away her tobacco chew, even for the wedding of Queenie Robinson’s grandbaby girl, Lee, Ashlee and Kyle Owens, Brandon and Noelle Anderson; her brothers, their wives, children, and Trey Baker and her twin nephews. Trey had resigned himself to his wife’s going back to school once she’d proven to him that earning a degree would give them greater earning power.
Jeffrey Helfrick had flown in for the wedding. The agent was scheduled to spend the holidays with his children in Puerto Rico with the second of four ex-wives.
After Otis Pratt’s article recanting his ménage à trois hoax, Derrick Landry had contacted Hope about the position at WLKV, but she had declined. She would continue her “Straight Talk” column for William Cullen and write books whenever the spirit hit her.
The minister from the only church on McKinnon Island stood ready to begin the ceremony. He pulled himself up to his full five-three height and smiled at Hope. “Who gives this woman in marriage?” His voice was unusually deep for a man of his diminutive height.
“I do,” said Patrick in a strong voice. He placed Hope’s hand in Theo’s, then stepped back to sit beside his wife.
Theo smiled at Hope, mouthing, “Beautiful.”
She returned his smile, nodding.
The afternoon was perfect for a wedding. The sun was shining, the temperature was in the low seventies. Hope and Theo repeated their vows, exchanged rings, then sealed their troth with a chaste kiss.
Everyone stood and applauded as Hope tightened her grip on her husband’s neck.
“I have some good news,” she whispered against his lips.
“What?”
“We’re pregnant.”
Theo went completely still. Eyes wide, he stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Very sure.”
He swept her up in his arms, threw back his head, and bellowed like someone possessed. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Hope threw her bouquet over her head, and it landed in Ashlee Owens’s lap. The young girl waved it above her head while smiling at Brandon.
Christian whispered in his brother’s ear. The Anderson young men gave each other high fives, then winked at their older brother.
The minister’s voice echoed above the sound of the waves crashing up on the beach. “Ladies and gentlemen, the ancestors and the descendants of McKinnon Island, South Carolina, congratulate Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Howell on their marriage. May you live a long and happy life together.”
Theo placed his hand over his wife’s belly. They shared a secret smile before turning to receive best wishes from those who had returned to a place that seemingly had stopped in time—a place where another generation of Gullahs would come to know their unique culture.
Lessons of a Lowcountry Summer Page 26
