Chapter Thirty-Two
C amp Dogwood had been resuscitated. Once again its heart beat with human footfalls, water flowed through its veins, and electricity ran like nerves through every building and outdoor light fixture. On that particular day, it had been adorned with twinkle lights, summertime pastel flowers, white folding chairs, and bows made of pink tulle. At the end of the brand-new wooden dock was an archway covered in flowers. Mason jars hung in varying lengths lighting up the space beneath peonies, roses, and eucalyptus leaves. “The Dog” was as pretty as a bride.
Two of Libby’s bridesmaids had come back on board, so, along with two cousins who clearly did not want to be there, plus Brooke and Jessa, there were six bridesmaids in total—respectable for a Southern wedding if the bride was naturally careful and prudent. But in Libby’s case, it was obvious that she’d worn out her bridal privileges. No one treated her as special anymore. There had been a bridal shower thrown by a cousin at a park outside of Charleston with uncovered picnic tables, fading balloons, one lukewarm casserole, hot dogs, and too many grocery-store-bought desserts. Jessa had done her best to follow Libby’s explicit instructions for a bachelorette party in Charleston. But the bride forced her bridesmaids to wear the most unflattering shade of yellow T-shirts with ironed-on letters stating Friend of the Bride while she wore a short white sundress with a golden Bride-to-Be sash and extra-large crown. Libby didn’t pay for a single cocktail or for the appetizer, salad, main course, and dessert she ordered at dinner.
By the end of the night, the bride-to-be stumbled around like a woman who had just consumed four top-shelf mixed drinks and two shots of tequila. Which she had. Brooke offered to help Jessa with the bill, not because she had any extra money, but because she knew what it felt like to be walked all over.
If it hadn’t been for Dottie seeing that there was some sort of supernatural reason for Brooke to be in the wedding, she would have backed out long ago. She did have to admit, though, that she was curious to see how it would go. Plus, she’d already bought the dress.
Brooke’s first real introduction to Libby’s family had been years ago. When parents dropped their kids at camp, there was always a moment during the goodbye where people took stock. What kind of car did the camper come in? What did their parents look like? Who got extra-long hugs and tears? Who was only waved at from the driver’s seat? Libby’s mother was the heavily made-up, hair-sprayed woman who gushed and doted, hugged too long, and said goodbye 217 times. Even so, Brooke was not prepared for what awaited them in the bridal suite, previously known as The Doghouse’s storage room.
The lady was wonderful.
She greeted each bridesmaid with a hug like she’d known them since they were three years old and loved them like her own. Each hug lasted just a beat longer than usual, and sweet words of appreciation were generously whispered to them during the embrace. She was a pretty lady, barely taller than the four-tiered wedding cake, yet somehow stately in her beige sequined dress.
“I am just so thrilled y’all are here to celebrate with us,” she announced to the group fawning over her daughter in the makeup chair. “I am Mrs. Melba Trotter, Libby’s proud mama. Yes, Melba like the toast, if you can remember that far back,” she giggled. “But I do not answer to that name anymore—no, sir. Y’all can all call me Mama Trotter.” Her eyes kept going to her daughter. “I speak for Elizabeth and for the whole family when I say just how happy we are to be sharing this special day. Isn’t my daughter just the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen in a white dress?” Melba forced a kiss onto Libby’s cheek. “Now, if y’all don’t mind, I’m gonna shoo y’all out of here. Don’t want to keep you from all of the other good things outside, now do we?”
“No, ma’am,” one of the cousins answered for all of them. Brooke was last in line for the side hugs, air kisses, and well wishes for the bride before exiting the room. She shut the door behind her, but before it latched, she heard Melba’s voice. It had a completely different tone.
“You look like a harlot,” she said to her daughter. “That lipstick is far too dark. And who are those people? Do they even have jobs? They’re going to ruin our wedding. Not that it isn’t ruined already. This place is an embarrassment. I have half a mind to just go on back home right now.”
“Mama, please,” Libby pleaded like her mother’s biting words were a common occurrence. Brooke quickly caught up with the rest of the group, singling out Jessa. She pulled her aside, into the trees where no one else would hear them.
“I think I understand better why Libby is the way she is,” Brooke said.
“Why?” Jessa was immediately invested.
“Because her mother is awful.”
“That sweet lady? Melba toast?”
“She was sweet to our faces, but as soon as we left, she turned terrible.”
“Oh,” Jessa said. “She’s one of those.”
Brooke nodded. “At least Libby doesn’t try to hide her meanness. At least she comes right out with it.”
“Mama says that people choose who they’re gonna be. Libby probably thought she only had two choices: victim or perpetrator,” Jessa said. “She didn’t want to be a victim, so she became the perpetrator.”
“Well, I’m still mad at her.” Brooke pulled at the thick pink taffeta band around her waist that ended in a big bow on her behind. “This is too tight.”
Jessa, in a matching pink dress and freshly curled hair, helped retie the bow.
“But I guess knowing she’s got a crappy mother will make it easier to walk down the aisle and pretend to be her friend,” Brooke said.
“We’re showing her that there’s another way to be.”
Brooke thought about that simple concept. Maybe that was it. Maybe Libby or one of her cousins or maybe even several people there needed to see that there was another way to be. “Love conquers all, right?”
Jessa shrugged and smiled. “Only if it’s true and real.”
It didn’t escape Brooke that Jessa was the one who’d never actually been in love .
Gates was there as a guest, and that wasn’t a surprise, although Brooke never imagined he’d be an entire hour early. As always, his presence could not be ignored.
“Well, hey there,” he said when he saw her. He seemed strangely unaffected by her, like they’d always been casual friends instead of each other’s main squeeze for too many years. It was further proof that the breakup was the right thing to do. He gave her a brief hug before squeezing Jessa tight.
“Did you bring a plus-one?” Jessa asked.
“Yeah, she said she’d meet me here.” He didn’t seem excited at all, but that was classic Gates.
“Someone we know?” Brooke didn’t feel jealousy, but her curiosity was definitely piqued.
“Met her online. She’s a Charleston girl.”
“And she’s afraid you might be a serial killer, so she’s driving herself?” Brooke giggled.
“She’s gonna get onto this empty old island and figure her fears were right,” Jessa said. “Your date’s about to turn tail and run, Gates. You might as well hang with us.”
The hired staff was putting out the champagne glasses at the greeting table, so they all grabbed one. As soon as the green-headed mallard saw Brooke, he was immediately at her side. He was her constant companion every time she was there. His leg was healing, but there was still a little orange hiccup in his waddle, which made his nickname feel like redemption. The name had taken on a new meaning. Everybody loved Zippy. He was a friendly little duck who had made Camp Dogwood his home. He had a nest by the swimmin’ hole and was apparently quite a hit with the ladies. Little brown ducks followed him around like groupies.
Nate was taking a shower at the lighthouse. He drove in from Charleston that morning and went for a swim while Brooke had her hair and makeup done with the other bridesmaids. She’d made sure to install Wi-Fi in her little round house so not only could Nate work while he was there, but they could always be in touch with each other. It was one of the many things she’d gotten up and running in a very short time.
Nana had been proven right. Brooke was the right person for the job. She’d been running the cleanup and fix-up while working on a website and marketing materials. As soon as the wedding was over, the real work would begin. Camp Dogwood was going to be like an updated version of the old Dirty Dancing movie, with family entertainment, outdoorsy things to do, and a little ferry to take guests back and forth from the Saltwater Winery.
Gates wasn’t the only one who showed up early. Car after car drove down the old dogwood-lined drop-off lane and parked in the brand-new asphalt parking lot. The white stripes had barely dried in time. People were beginning to mill around—some walked down to the new floating dock where chairs had been set up for the ceremony, others appreciated all of the freshly planted flowers, and some held their champagne glasses while taking a short stroll through the cleared pathways in the woods. The bridge over the creek was freshly painted white, and signs had been made to guide people toward all of the important areas: the horse paddock, the kayak launch, the beach, The Doghouse, the jumping rock, the swimmin’ hole, and each of the yet-to-be-transformed cabins, which were named after flowers.
Trig and Cornelia looked like movie stars. Trig still fit into his specially tailored tux, and Cornelia had her hair done in the most flattering updo. Surely, Libby’s mother was not going to be happy about it. The groom’s mother, on the other hand, appeared to be a genuinely kind person. That gave Brooke hope for Libby’s future. Once again, Libby would have an opportunity to see that there was another way to do things. She didn’t have to protect herself by putting others down. She could elevate herself by lifting others up. So many things about Libby’s wedding had been a gut punch for her that it might be the catalyst she needed in order to change.
The great humbling of Libby Trotter had begun, and it was her recent gratitude for Brooke and Jessa that proved it. She’d written them each a heartfelt note of thanks for the bachelorette party and included a gift card for dinner at the Peninsula Grill. For the first time ever, Brooke saw a glimmer of a chance that they might actually remain friends after the ceremony.
Just as people were beginning to find their seats, a loud horn came from offshore and a white-haired woman waved from a speedboat as it made its way toward the lighthouse beach. Nana and Duke were making an entrance.
Jessa walked down the aisle first, then Brooke, then Libby’s two other friends, and her cousins. Their matching cotton-candy-pink dresses coordinated with the pink bow ties and sweaty pink faces of the six groomsmen who stood in a line next to James. It was four in the afternoon, and the guests who got a spot in the shade were the lucky ones. Most champagne glasses had been switched out for water bottles by then, and James kept wiping his forehead with a hanky. But the bride appeared cool and fresh in her lace-bottomed white ball gown dress. The faux diamonds on the strapless top shimmered in the sun, and her smile looked certain. Maybe she really was in love.
When it was Libby’s turn to deliver her vows, she actually began by thanking her bridesmaids. Brooke made eye contact with Nate in the audience, and everything good and happy in the world bubbled inside of her all at once. She still hadn’t gotten over the awe that he was finally back in her life and they were back where it all began. It felt like everything she’d always wanted was hers. Trig and Cornelia were holding hands, and Nana and Duke were no longer lonely. Nana had literally and figuratively added color to that man’s life. He wore a royal blue tie to match her dress and a feather in his breast pocket from her hat made of peacock plumes.
The ceremony was half over when Gates’s date showed up. Everyone had given up on her, but all of a sudden, there she was, standing at the back looking over the heads of a sea of people for a guy she knew only from a photo. Brooke knew the minute she saw her that it wasn’t going to last. First of all, she broke the cardinal rule of wedding etiquette and wore white, and second, the dress looked more like lingerie and barely covered her behind. Even in stilettos, she was scarcely five feet tall. Not Gates’s type at all. And she was from Charleston? Certainly, she didn’t grow up there.
When Brooke realized she was staring at the poor girl, she forced her attention back to the wedding. She was being horribly judgmental. Gates’s date might be a very nice person, and Brooke should treat her that way.
Dinner was inside The Doghouse. Candles flickered on the rented round tables with white tablecloths and pastel flower centerpieces, and the air-conditioning was doing its job well. Finally, Brooke and Nate could sit together. They shared a table with Jessa, Dottie, and Tootie, and Gates and his date, Juls. The girl’s personality was the opposite of her outfit. She was so shy, she could barely speak. When dinner was over and the dancing began, Gates asked Jessa to take Juls to the bathroom. Brooke watched the whole thing, and was surprised when he walked straight back to her and Nate. He took something from his pocket and handed it to her.
It was yellow with a big number two, and on its side was a phone number written in black ink.
The stolen duck, the one with Nate’s phone number was finally Brooke’s again. She held it to her chest.
“You’ve had it this whole time?” she asked, the gravity of his betrayal setting in.
Gates nodded.
“You stole it?” she asked. He’d stolen the duck and stolen her. How dare he.
He nodded again, looking sheepish.
Nate didn’t appear mad. Maybe it was because things had worked out. But what if they hadn’t? What if she’d never seen him again, and Gates had been hiding the one way she could find him? “Why?” she asked.
“I was stupid,” he said. “There was that movie night…” He shrugged at both of them. “I saw y’all kiss out there on the dock and I guess it got my competitive juices going.”
“That’s why you led that charge and tore down the movie screen?” She knew it. She knew back then that the interruption was directed at her.
Gates nodded. “That’s when I decided that I wanted you.”
“Not much of a bro code.” There was no malice in Nate’s voice, but it needed to be pointed out.
“I’m apologizing to both of you now and trying to set things right. Brooke didn’t act like she was interested in me back then, and that made me want her even more.”
“But you still stayed with me all of these years. Just to keep me away from Nate?”
“No. No, of course not. I told you. I really did love you. But I’ve always known I wasn’t right for you.” He didn’t say it like a man with a broken heart, he said it like a man who had healed from one.
Brooke took a deep breath, and Nate reached for her hand under the table, giving it a squeeze. The fact was, Gates was already forgiven. As soon as Nate kissed her again, as soon as she knew that Nate had always thought she was the girl for him, nothing that happened before mattered.
Maybe she had some sweetness in her after all, because she was genuinely not upset. She was just happy to have the little plastic duck again.
The DJ made an announcement that the sun was setting and those who wanted to watch fireworks should move outside. He played “The Star-Spangled Banner” while the crowd made their way back to the swimmin’ hole and the floating dock where Libby and James had said their vows. Gates helped his date navigate the uneven ground in high heels, and Jessa walked with them while Tulip ran ahead. Brooke and Nate took a seat on the slatted wood of the dock in the spot where they had their first kiss as fire lit up the sky with cracks and shimmers. Zippy came out of the water and ambled over to join them, unfazed by the bright lights and loud sounds. He snuggled his football-shaped body into Brooke’s side, and she felt like they were a little family of three on vacation enjoying a perfect summer night.
There was movement in the woods off the right. Two people stood together watching the fireworks from the private spot on a small patch of beach. Each time a shower of white sparks hit the sky, their smiles glowed in the light. The tall man in the tux, Brooke’s father, had his arm around his wife’s shoulders, and she leaned her head into his chest. They looked like they were young and newly in love.
“I think my parents are actually happy again,” she whispered.
Nate had been watching them too. “It looks that way.”
“What do you think ducks symbolize?” Brooke asked, peacefully stroking Zippy’s soft green head.
Nate pulled out his phone and looked it up. “Emotional balance, strong bonds, perspective, good luck, and love.”
She patted Zippy next to her and laid her head on Nate’s shoulder. The sky exploded colors in quick succession. “I think they represent all of that, plus hope and resilience.”
“Our duck sure does.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Didn’t you tell me that Dottie saw fireworks in one of her visions?” he asked.
Instead of answering, Brooke lifted her chin. Nate leaned over and kissed her and she soaked in his lips, his nearness, his presence.
“Dottie was right,” she said. “There are definitely fireworks.”