Chapter Twenty
T he green wooded island smelled clean and fresh, like rainwater and pine. Nate and Gates both opted to drive home after the unplanned winery get-together, so the fresh morning meant relief rather than tension. It was the embodiment of a brand-new day: sunny and recovering from the previous day’s disturbance. By midmorning the sun would dry up most of the puddles and the humidity would be higher than the fluffy white clouds. Brooke and Cornelia sat at the kitchen table. Cornelia had prepared two footed glass dessert bowls filled with Greek yogurt, honey, and fresh berries. Duke confirmed via text that Nana would not be joining them that morning.
“Did you know that some of the highest STD rates are found in retirement homes?” Brooke asked, collecting a spoonful of blueberries.
“Now, why would you tell me such a thing?” Cornelia giggled despite the horrified look on her face. “I suppose she might as well have some fun while she still can.”
“It’s not hurting anyone, right?”
Cornelia smiled at her daughter and popped a raspberry into her mouth. “Might actually be helping someone.”
Brooke covered her face. “I don’t want to think about it.” They shared a rare moment of laughter together, then lapsed into silence. “Hey, Mother?”
Cornelia looked up from her quest to find another berry she could pinch without getting honey or yogurt on her fingers.
Brooke had to say it. It was too big a secret to keep bottled up. “I saw you the other day in Charleston.”
Cornelia froze but took only a second to recover. “I thought we were going to talk about Nathan Daugherty. Don’t you have questions? We haven’t had a chance to talk about him yet.”
“Yes, but Mother, did you hear what I just said?”
“Nathan was a special boy. He was in my eighth-grade class.”
“Really? You’re not going to acknowledge it? I saw you in Charleston with a man.”
Cornelia calmly sipped her coffee. “His parents died in a plane crash, and I was just beside myself with worry for that boy. Your father and I talked about him at the supper table every night for weeks and weeks. I even made some inquiries into guardianship.”
“Trig agreed to that?”
“Well, of course. He’s always wanted a boy.”
The words felt like a punch in the stomach, even though Brooke had always suspected it was the case.
“We didn’t get very far,” Cornelia said. “Nathan had a guardian, and we didn’t have any claim to him. You know how those things go.”
Brooke had no idea how those things went. “Well, that’s too bad. He could’ve used some help.” Nate getting help from her family meant they would have grown up together like brother and sister. Sort of. In a nonbiological kind of way. What would that have been like, living in the house with Nathan? Having him sleep in a room next to her? Christmas mornings. Sicknesses. Family vacations. Crawfishing in the creeks. Swimming all day in the surf. Going to the same high school. Eating the same packed lunches. She suddenly felt like she’d missed so much. She wanted to do all of that with Nate, and more.
“He seemed good yesterday. He was so tall and handsome. Well-dressed too,” Cornelia said. “I had forgotten about his cerebral palsy. The limp suits him, though, doesn’t it?”
So, that was why he had a limp. Brooke had never even thought to ask.
Cornelia was wistful. “All that worrying I did over him was for nothing, I guess.”
“He’s good now,” Brooke pointed out. “But he wasn’t then.”
“I declare. All this time and we never put it together that you two were friends at camp.”
“No, we never did.” Maybe if she and Cornelia had a relationship like Jessa and Dottie, they would have shared pieces of their lives and figured out that they were both worrying about the same boy. But Cornelia’s lips were sealed tighter than a home-canned mason jar—one with botulism swelling the lid and threatening to explode.
“Can we talk about what I saw now?” Brooke pressed.
Cornelia stood with her coffee cup and moved to deposit it in the sink. She paused before she clinked it onto the porcelain bottom and filled it with water. “I assure you, things are not as they may have appeared.”
“It looked pretty clear to me. Who was that guy?”
“Anna Brooke, there are things about my life that you have not been privy to. Do you understand? You are my daughter, not my best friend.”
“Don’t you think it’s time we became friends? Isn’t that what happens once your kid leaves and starts a life on her own?”
Cornelia pursed her lips.
“I am only staying here temporarily,” Brooke added. “And who knows where I’ll end up this time.”
“And you want to be my friend?” Cornelia put her perfectly manicured dusty rose-fingernailed hand over her heart.
“Cut it out, Mother. Of course I do.”
“Well, then, as my friend, I expect you to keep this in the strictest confidence.”
“I’m not planning to tell Trig, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Trigger already knows.”
Brooke was not expecting that. “About that other man?”
“Andrew is his name. And yes.”
Oh, Lord. She was about to be told that her parents were divorcing. “Andrew? Are you in love with him?”
“I have always been in love with Andrew.”
Here it comes. She braced herself.
“But he hasn’t been my boyfriend since 1986.”
“You used to date him?”
“Way back when. He was my first love.”
“I thought Trig was your first love.”
“Now, why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. You never talked about anybody else.”
“Are you going to talk about Gates once you’re married to someone else?”
“Probably not.”
“Exactly. And Trig does not like to hear about my old boyfriends.”
“But Mother, you kissed him.”
“Yes, I did. And I do not regret it. I would do it again.”
It didn’t seem like Cornelia to be so brazen. She’d loved someone else? She would kiss him again?
“Did you tell Trig that you kissed him?”
“You can wipe that look off your face, young lady. Andrew is dying. He has pancreatic cancer. He was in town to tie up some loose ends, and I was one of them.” Cornelia looked away, pretending to look for something in the upper cabinets. But Brooke knew she was pulling herself together.
In her mind’s eye, Brooke could still see the kiss clearly—the tall man looking directly into her mother’s eyes, so serious, before pulling her tightly into a deep kiss. A goodbye kiss? She’d seen passion between them for sure. Had it been raw emotion rather than sexual chemistry? If Nate, or even Gates, were dying, she might do the same thing. She’d once loved both of them. And if she had to say goodbye, it would probably look just like what she’d witnessed between Cornelia and Andrew. She let out a long breath. “I’m so sorry, Mother. I guess I didn’t know what I was seeing.”
“Do you know what we do, Anna Brooke? All of us. We take bits and pieces of things we think we know, and we fit them together into something that makes sense. We might be missing half the facts, because we don’t know what we don’t know, right? As a matter of fact, I think we are usually missing a good portion of the information. But we just plow on ahead, thinking that the puzzle is complete when it was actually us who filled in the empty spaces with our own imaginings. Then we have the audacity to walk around declaring that the puzzle is complete and that we have the definitive answer, when many of the pieces are fiction, pure conjecture.”
Cornelia was right. Brooke had made a judgment about what she saw and decided the worst was true when the fact was, she had none of the details. Her mind immediately went to Libby. “I’m probably missing half of Libby’s puzzle and filling in the missing pieces with my guesses. I don’t really know much about her.”
“You know I have no patience for girls like her. And I don’t give a flip what she’s been through, missing pieces or not. She’s still responsible for how she treats others.”
“Yeah.” Brooke thought for a second. “I mean, Nate had a terrible childhood, but he doesn’t go around bullying people.”
“Right. Some girls have no excuse. They just decide to be terrible.”
“Well, either way, now I’m stuck in her wedding.”
“And you’d better not try to outshine her. Dim your light, baby girl. That’s the only way to survive it.”
“Do you think she was acting? You know, with all of the crying yesterday. Was it fake?”
“I wouldn’t put it past her.”
It was the strong smell of Chanel No. 5 that made both women turn toward the back entrance to the kitchen. How long had Nana been leaning against the doorframe looking taller than normal? She had a peaceful little smile on her face that matched her soft pink boudoir set. Her French-twisted white hair matched her white feathered slippers, and the effect was that of a 1940s movie star.
“Grace!” Cornelia said. “I didn’t think we’d see you this morning.”
“Nana, you’re beautiful,” Brooke said.
“I am, aren’t I?” Nana helped herself to the dregs of the coffee decanter. “I am a woman in love.”
“With Duke?” Brooke asked.
“What other single man past his glory years do you know on this island?”
“Love?” Cornelia questioned.
“Yes, love. That’s what I said, isn’t it?” The sassy edge to Nana’s voice was in full force. “When you get to be my age, love doesn’t come softly or take its sweet time or ease its way into your heart. No, you purposefully grab it by the small hairs and scream yes straight into its face.”
“I’m not sure the tone of this conversation is appropriate for your granddaughter—” Cornelia began.
“Mother,” Brooke said. “I lived with a man. I know about small hairs.”
Cornelia put her hands over her ears and Nana snickered. “Are we offending your sweet sensibilities, Cornelia?” Then she turned to Brooke. “I have an idea.”
“Oh, no,” Cornelia muttered.
“Hush,” Nana said. “My man Duke is overseeing the cleanup today, and I do not intend to be bored out there in my cottage on this sunshine-y day. I am far too happy to sit around, and I no longer feel like baking. So, my dear granddaughter, you, your mother, and I are going to have ourselves an adventure.”
“I can’t have an adventure today,” Cornelia said. “The Women’s Club has me in charge of organizing a meal train for Maddie Smalling. She just had a baby boy, and I heard tell that he’s a fussy one. Got that colic going on.”
“Don’t be silly,” Nana said. “You have the time.”
“Tell that to the club who voted me in as secretary. They rely on me for this sort of thing.”
“No one is relying on you, Cornelia. You are just trying to fill up your time, and today, I have got something else for us to do.” Nana winked at Brooke. “It’s high time the Warter women venture out for a little fun.”
“I don’t think I can, Nan,” Brooke said. “I’m supposed to drive over to Camp Dogwood with Jessa and Libby to see if it’s an option for her wedding.”
Nana sipped her coffee through wrinkly pink-painted lips. “That will do just fine.”
“What?” Cornelia said. “That old camp?”
“Yes.”
“It’s going to be muddy, Nan. And there isn’t any electricity or running water. Maybe you and Cornelia should go into Charleston and get some lunch or shop or something.”
“Cornelia, are you afraid of a little mud?” Clearly, Nana had no intention of giving up.
“I don’t think I own a pair of galoshes anymore,” Cornelia said, “and I don’t have any shoes I am willing to ruin.”
“Why are we talking about shoes right now?” Nana put her coffee mug down with a clunk. “Do you think any of the great adventurers cared about shoes? I’m certain Amelia Earhart did not care. Or Davy Crockett. Or Sacagawea.”
“I’m pretty sure Amelia Earhart and Davy Crockett cared about their shoes. And Sacagawea had moccasins.”
“But they still went out and got them muddy, now didn’t they?”
“One would presume. But I am certain they were not happy about it. They couldn’t just order a new pair online if theirs were ruined.”
“But you can.” Nana smiled wickedly. Game, set, match. “Anna Brooke, we will be joining you and your friends today. At what time are we leaving?”
“In about an hour.”
With a flourish of pink and a few stray feathers floating behind, Nana left the building.
“Well, Mother, it looks like you’re coming with me,” Brooke said, surprised that she wasn’t more excited. Going to Camp Dogwood with Cornelia and Nana felt like a violation. It was hers, like a secret she didn’t want to share. Was there anything in her life that was her own anymore? Aside from the remnants of her apartment with Gates sitting in a pile inside Nana’s cottage, everything felt like it belonged to someone else.