The Royal Wedding Collection

by Rachel Hauck

  “I don’t know. I just … said it. Maybe it was my way of responding to Adam, you know? Taking control when I’d let him have the reins for so long.”

  “Did you get a picture? I’d love to have seen the look on Gage’s face.”

  “Yeah, taking a picture was first on my mind when I said, ‘I quit.’ He stormed out so the shot would’ve been of the back of his head. I don’t know, Gracie.” Susanna started toward the edge of the lawn where the trimmed grass met the wild flowerbed she’d planted. “I jolted awake at three o’clock this morning wondering if I’d lost my mind. But when I packed up my office, it felt like the greatest moment of my life. Gage didn’t have enough work for me anyway, truth be told. Landscape architecture is a luxury in this economy.”

  “What do you hear from Adam?”

  “Silence.” Susanna glanced back at her friend as she ate the last orange slice. “Which is fine. What’s left to say? I feel relieved. Like I’d been holding my breath for a decade.”

  “I’m free to tell you now I never cared much for him.” Gracie walked to the hose and twisted the nozzle.

  “You big fat liar. You were green with envy when Adam and I started dating.”

  “That was high school. Every girl wanted to date Adam Peters.”

  “He’s available now, if you’re still interested.” Susanna joined her friend at the hose, washing the orange stickiness from her hands when Gracie gave her a turn at the hose.

  “Like I want your castoffs,” Gracie said, walking back to her chair with dripping-wet hands. “But at least you had a lasting relationship, Suz. I have longer relationships with my shoes than the men in my life.”

  “Because you’ve decided every man out there is like your father.” Susanna shut off the water and wrapped up the hose.

  “No, I haven’t,” she said. “I’ve decided they’re worse.”

  “You just need to get over that thinking.” Susanna returned to her deck seat. “You have every man judged and condemned before you exchange names and numbers. You’ve got to let go, trust a little. Give a guy a chance.” She eased against the back of the chair, tuning into the distant hum of a lawn mower and inhaling the aroma of fresh-cut, sunbaked grass.

  “Let go a little? Ha! Said the pot to the kettle.”

  “What pot? There’s no pot here. I stuck with same guy for twelve years.”

  “Because you had a plan.”

  “Now you sound like Adam.” Susanna flopped her arm over the side of her chair and curled her toes over the edge of the deck, letting the sun soak into all of her hidden, cold places. “Enough about me. What happened to the sailor? The guy going around the world on his yacht?”

  “Ethan? He’s still around,” she said casually. A bit too casually.

  “Wonder of wonders. It’s been what, two weeks?”

  “Three.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe we have a record here.” Susanna sat forward, applauding her friend.

  “Okay, smarty-pants, thank you. If you must know … I do like him. A lot.”

  Susanna stretched across the chair to squeeze Gracie’s hand. “I’m happy for you.”

  “And what about you? What are you going to do?”

  “Get past Adam, get some perspective.” She considered confessing her fascination with her new friend, Nate Kenneth. But other than his coincidental rescues in her times of need, there wasn’t much to tell. She hadn’t yet put words to how he made her feel.

  He’d dropped Susanna off at home Monday night. She’d expressed her thanks again and again. But by the time Liam turned into her drive, their relationship had reached its farthest bounds.

  She was a recent relationship widow. And he was heading home—four thousand miles away—in a week or so. What could become of her feelings for him?

  “I’m glad you’re in such a good frame of mind,” Gracie said. “Because I got some sorta bad news. Aunt Rue called.”

  “Uh-oh. What?” Susanna sat up, brushing the sun’s heat from her thighs. “She sold the house?”

  “Worse. She’s coming to the island in the fall.” Gracie squeezed her shoulders toward her ears, wincing.

  “And I have to move.” Rue Prather, an Atlanta-based clothing designer, rented the house to Susanna by the month for little more than pennies. Her only caveat was if she wanted to spend a season on the island, Susanna had to find other digs.

  “Because I like to entertain.”

  “October through March.”

  “Six months?”

  “You know she won’t stay that long, Suz. She’ll get restless and leave. She’ll hear of a new designer taking Atlanta by storm and skedaddle out of here. I bet she won’t even show up until Thanksgiving. Then she’ll be gone by Christmas.”

  “Either way, I can’t move out for six months hoping it’s only for a month. If she says she’s coming in October, then I have to move in October. Which will be really super fun now that I am only pulling shifts at the Shack.”

  In five short days, everything stable and planned about her life went poof. Gone.

  But in the quiet of her soul, Susanna believed something divine was transpiring. A holy shift was taking place. If she could just hold on long enough to see the outcome. Maybe Daddy was right. Something big was coming.

  “You can live with me if you want.”

  “No, thank you. I love you too much.” She’d lived with Gracie once. Right after she’d graduated from college. Never again. “I’d live with Aurora in her tent first.”

  “Oh, really, Suz. It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Yeah, Gracie, it was.”

  Gracie lived broad and large. Boundaries were optional. She spread out all over the apartment. Susanna, on the other hand, thrived with boundaries. Everything in its place. Expected. Organized. Routine.

  She moved out after a few months to save her sanity and their friendship.

  “Fine, but just so you know, I’m not as messy as I used to be.”

  Their conversation shifted and settled into the easy rhythm that comes from being lifelong friends. Susanna didn’t need to share with Gracie every detail of her heart. She knew. Just knew.

  Gracie regaled Susanna with the latest news on her beauty salon and how her most recent stylist thought working when scheduled was optional. “She told me she got into hair because she heard she could make her own schedule.”

  Susanna laughed. “Isn’t that why you got into hair?”

  “Yes, but at least I had the decency to own my own shop first. Look, I gotta run.” Her friend since sixth grade wrapped Susanna in her long, slender arms. “Need to run some errands before meeting sailor boy for dinner.” She shot Susanna a backward glance as she started off the deck. “Want to come?”

  “I’m on deck at the Rib Shack, remember? Plus, I have an errand to run myself.”

  “Okay … Suz, you all right?”

  Alone again.

  “As a matter of fact, yes, I am.”

  Susanna stayed on the deck thinking until the late afternoon shade cast long lines across the backyard.

  EIGHT

  Nathaniel knew of Christ Church from his boyhood days on the island. He parked on the side of the road and sprinted across the lanes, dashing under the ivy-covered trellis onto the church grounds.

  Two steps down the redbrick path, he slammed into a surprising, tangible Presence. Something divine. Awe swirled in his chest as he surveyed the green grounds and the white clapboard church.

  Off the brick path, he cut through the light dripping through the live oaks and stood in the Presence as Spanish moss twisted above his head.

  Tears gathered in his eyes as he fell prostrate on the luxurious lawn. As the leaves clattered overhead, Nathaniel sensed God reminding him that all of the earth was God’s dwelling, including the finite heart of Prince Nathaniel.

  The only other place on earth that made him feel so close to holiness was five-hundred-year-old St. Stephen’s Chapel, which was just north of Brighton’s capital, Cath
edral City.

  Nathaniel breathed life to his tears as he inhaled the earth beneath his face.

  What, Lord? What do you want?

  Waiting for another minute or two, Nathaniel felt the awe pass and pushed off the ground, dusting grass and dirt from his trousers. He had few moments before the Tuesday evening call to prayer.

  Cutting a path to the petite vestibule, Nathaniel entered the long, rectangular sanctuary and took a middle-row pew.

  The presence of the Lord intensified. This experience had nothing to do with him or his position on the earth as a prince, but everything to do with the goodness of God.

  When the priest moved up the aisle and called out the first reading, Nathaniel pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his eyes, and opened the Book of Prayer.

  The king rejoices in your strength, LORD

  How great is his joy in the victories you give!

  You have granted him his heart’s desire

  and have not withheld the request of his lips.

  Psalm 21:1–2

  King David’s words shot like an arrow to Nathaniel’s heart. He bent forward, resting his head on top of the pew in front of him, cradling the book in his hands.

  “Lord, I need your wisdom,” he whispered. “I’m not even sure of my heart’s desire or the request of my lips.” How did David do it? Rule God’s nation? He didn’t even have the blessing of a parliament. “I’d rather you heal Dad than put me in as king, if I must speak the truth. I’m not ready. Did you call me or did my forefathers?”

  From the pulpit, the priest called the silent sanctuary into prayer. Nathaniel tried to focus on the next prayer, wanting to return to his connection with the Presence, but politics embroiled his thoughts.

  Could he marry Genevieve for king and country? Make her heir to the Hessenberg House of Augustine-Saxon? Let her inherit Hessenberg? Even if he wanted to marry her, would the courts rule she satisfied the condition of being a true heir of the House of Augustine-Saxon? Nathaniel’s peace began to evaporate. He needed to forget the entail and meditate on his Lord.

  Closing his eyes, he exhaled his doubts and breathed in a sweet fragrance. A very familiar fragrance.

  Nathaniel peeked around. More congregants had joined the prayer vigil, including Susanna Truitt. She sat all the way to the right on the pew in front of him.

  He slid over a few inches and whispered, “Fancy meeting you here.”

  She kept her head bowed. “We have to stop meeting like this.”

  “I think you’re stalking me.”

  He caught the edge of her smile. “Shhh.” She pressed her finger to her lips.

  Grinning, Nathaniel sat back and resumed his prayers, thanking God for leading him to the sanctuary tonight. When the priest concluded the service, Nathaniel slipped out of the pew and joined Susanna in the narrow aisle.

  “Lovely evening.”

  “A bit warm, but yeah, it’s nice.” She smiled at him. Ah, she was equally pleased to see him.

  They fell in line with the rest of the congregants bidding good night to the pastor at the vestibule door. When they stepped outside, the setting sun had painted a Monet-worthy scene. A visual prayer and for now, all was right in Nathaniel’s world.

  “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he said, trailing after Susanna.

  “I’m on my way to work.” She paused, pointing to the Rib Shack logo on her shirt. “Mama has had all hands on deck the past couple days to fill in for Daddy. I’m filling in for her so she can be at home. And, as you know, I’m unemployed.”

  “How is your father faring?”

  “He’s great.” She started again down the brick path. “He’ll probably outlive us all.”

  “Susanna, the cottage garden is in need of your services. Did a man named Jonathan contact you about the landscaping?”

  “No.” She moved aside for an elderly couple to pass. “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Scott.”

  “Evening, Susanna,” the woman replied. “It’s been a while.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Sorry about you and Adam Peters.”

  “Thank you.” Susanna peeked up at Nathaniel. “Live on a small island, everybody knows your business.”

  “Trust me, I know.” Try being a prince of an island kingdom. So, Jon hadn’t called her yet?

  “Susanna, will you re-architect my father’s garden?”

  “How do you know you can afford me?”

  “I don’t.” He loved that she answered with a question rather than a reply. “We can negotiate. Nine o’clock tomorrow morning? Come by the cottage. I’ll give you a tour, then we’ll dicker over the price.” Nathaniel knew he’d pay whatever she asked. “Fair?”

  “More than.” She offered her hand, which he gladly took. “Ever get the feeling, Nate, that something is just around the corner, but you don’t know what?”

  Oh, if only it were possible. He hungered for such a feeling. But he had known every light and shadow around the corners of his life since he was a child. Though every once in a while … he encountered a surprise. Like the one standing before him.

  “Tomorrow, then?” His hand felt empty and cold when she pulled hers away.

  “Tomorrow. But right now, the Rib Shack awaits. It’s like my own personal game of Monopoly. Return to Go. Return to the Rib Shack, Susanna, and start again.”

  Nathaniel laughed, walking with her toward her car. “Sometimes going back to the beginning is the only way.”

  “In my case, the only way. So, Nate, just what do you do in Brighton?” She walked under the Christ Church entry trellis and turned up the side of the road.

  “I’m in government of sorts.” Nathaniel’s car was across the road and in the opposite direction, but he kept pace with Susanna.

  “Politics?” She pulled her keys from her purse.

  “Not if I can help it.” He laughed. “I’m more of an advisor, if you will.”

  “A lobbyist?”

  “No, no. Just a friend, a guiding light.” Say it, Nathaniel. Crown prince. King-in-waiting. But he couldn’t. It would change everything.

  She stopped at the driver’s side door of a green Cabrio. “Nine o’clock tomorrow, then?”

  “Yes, 21 Ocean Boulevard.” Nathaniel lurched forward, opening her door for her. “Suz, if your mum needs extra hands, may I offer mine?” He held them up, twisting them from back-to-front. “I pulled kitchen duty in the navy. Did a fair job of it.”

  She tossed her purse onto the passenger seat and regarded him for a moment “Sure, why not. Come on if you dare.” She waved for him to follow. “Mama will love me forever for bringing extra help. Be warned—she only pays minimum wage to substitutes, plus a share of the tips.”

  “Money is no object.” This was going to be fun. “Anything is better than sitting around with Jon and Liam.”

  “Hold that thought until you’ve worked a shift.”

  Nathaniel jogged to his SUV, and when Susanna passed, tooting her horn, he gunned into the lane behind her.

  Once they pulled into the parking lot in the shadow of the island’s grand lighthouse, Nathaniel rang Jon, glad to leave a message rather than debate how the crown prince of Brighton didn’t need to bus tables or scrub floors.

  Nathaniel’s days on the island were limited, and he’d be jacked if he wasn’t going to spend as many of them as he could near, around, in the presence of Susanna Truitt.

  Wednesday morning, Susanna drove up Ocean Boulevard, hand out the window surfing the breeze.

  What a great morning. Not in theory, but reality. Dawn’s first light woke up with a sense of expectancy. So she shouted, “Joy!” in faith and powered up her iTunes, jamming to Bethel Live while getting ready.

  How had she forgotten there were so many textured colors to the island morning? She had to get out more, pay attention to the beauty around her.

  This is what freedom from fear did—opened up a girl’s heart.

  Memories from last night put a smile on her lips.

&
nbsp; Mama had been packing to go be with Daddy when Susanna walked in with Nate. She’d lit up like a firefly, sized him up, and patted his shoulder. “You’ll do right nicely.”

  Without one complaint, Nate had mopped floors, cleaned out the lowboy and the walk-in, carted in a truckload of supplies, and organized the storage room. For five full hours, Susanna had him running to and fro. He never flinched or let up. Not even when she sent him to clean the bathrooms after closing. He’d just picked up the mop bucket and headed off, whistling.

  He was a lovely balm to her stinging heart. Just thinking of him made her laugh.

  Susanna slowed down once she hit Ocean Boulevard. The houses sat back off the road, tucked in between oaks, pines, and palmettos. Addresses were hard to see, but she found Nate’s house by the numbers tacked on the side of his mailbox.

  At the end of a narrow, wooded drive, Susanna broke into a clearing where a slate-gray beach cottage soaked in the morning sun. The blue edge of the quiet Atlantic rimmed green grounds.

  Parking under a stand of trees, she stepped out of her car into the resonance of the morning tide, slinging her satchel over her shoulder.

  For a moment, she felt like she owned the world. Her first job on her own. She should’ve started working for herself long ago.