“Maybe to you. Not to me.” Gib lifted his ruined hand then looked at it with disgust. “Look, I know I’m not all I used to be—I’ll never be able to do some of the simplest chores without help, I can’t maneuver my hand, and the docs say I should have one or two more minor surgeries to loosen up the tendons and get rid of the scar tissue. But I am the head of this family now. Call it patriarchal bullshit or whatever you want to, but that’s what I am and what’s expected of me. I take my family’s reputation seriously.”
“You’re not helpless or pitiful or impaired in any meaningful way,” I said impatiently. “Someone used to tell me a fable about rolling stones gathering no moss. Well, a stone that rolls too fast can’t take time to accumulate any wisdom. But when you chip a piece out of that stone it rolls slower, and even if it’s not as smooth and pretty as it used to be, it takes on a different quality.”
I hadn’t done the fable much service with my dry summary, and I didn’t mention that it had been one of Pop’s slyly political bedtime fairy tales. I could picture him sitting in a chair between Ella’s and my twin beds, solemnly spinning proverbs for us. I had been enthralled by his rough beauty and the throaty song of his voice.
Gib looked doubtful. “So this here rock,” he drawled, “does it stop to smell the roses?”
“Sorry. I mistook you for the type who appreciates a little Zen with his proverbs,” I retorted. I looked at him morosely and that made him worse.
“Thank you, grasshopper,” he added.
“Oh, to hell with you.” I started to rise.
“Apology offered,” he said quietly.
I sank back down on the riverbank. After all, I was stranded in the middle of the woods with him—again. “Apology accepted,” I admitted. “I know the fable sounds trite, but I’m only saying that you’re youngish and not hard on the eyes, and you’ve got money and position and a respectable family. And this incredible place. And a blue-blooded pioneer American heritage that makes me feel like I ought to be sitting in the hold of a ship off Ellis Island waiting for permission to salute Old Glory.”
His face tightened. “I’m not asking for anyone’s pity—I’m just trying to explain. I have to reach out in ways I wouldn’t have done before. I had too much pride before. Hell, you ought to understand that.”
I looked away. “Maybe.”
He ran his good hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. “You want to hear another story about wild-eyed Camerons? The first sawmill on this spot was run by waterpower. It was built by Robert Cameron, Gilbert and Susan’s youngest son. He inherited the valley. He went to the Carolina coast as a young man, made his fortune in shipping, married into a big Charleston shipping family, then came back and built the Hall. Cameron Hall. Showplace of the Tennessee mountains. There was nothing else like it when they opened the house in 1805. Robert had a society wife. Charleston society. She didn’t want to move to the frontier. So he kidnapped her.”
“He kidnapped his own wife?”
“Her and their firstborn baby, plus her lady’s maid, her pet goats, and a handful of house servants. Kidnapped the whole kit and caboodle and carted them up here. Locked his own wife in the new mansion for at least a year. She smuggled letters to her family, and a couple of her brothers organized a militia and rode up there to rescue her.”
“This is your own brand of fable, isn’t it? This didn’t really happen.”
“No brag, Nellie, just fact. The brothers got sidetracked by adventure and went on over the next mountain. They pioneered Attenberry County and that’s why there are Attenberrys next door to Hightower County and Cameron Hall today. All because Dorothea Attenberry Cameron’s brothers came to rescue her but ended up being our neighbors.”
“She must have hated Robert! And her idiotic, attention-deficit-disordered brothers!”
“Oh, now that’s a female take on the situation. Once Robert finally gave her a chance to run away she didn’t do it. I can’t speak well for his technique, but then, how else would he get an ocean-loving city wife to try out life in a mountain pioneer mansion? They lived to be old people and she died in the Hall. By her own choice.”
“Brainwashed.”
“Won over.”
I began to laugh. Maybe it wasn’t appropriate, considering that we sat only a few yards from the sawmill and its horrifying memories, but my nerves were shot and I feared I might cry from simple emotional overload.
Gib sat motionless, looking at me with real appreciation. Finally I quieted down and scrubbed my fingers over my eyes. I was blushing, and I looked away, then back. He still watched me.
“Don’t take this as a cheap line or a come-on,” he warned, “but you’re wasting yourself behind all that fake hair. You’re different. It’s the shape of your face and the quality of your skin. Your face is graceful, Nellie, and you’re a little gold-colored. I’ve never seen anyone like you. When I was hunting for you I got hold of one of the first newspaper photographs of you performing on the piano as a girl, when your hair was still black. You couldn’t have been more than five or six. That’s the look you ought to go back to, Nellie. Be who you are. Don’t hide. I’ll do what I can to make sure you and Ella aren’t harassed anymore.”
“You think it’s so simple,” I accused, because now I really had to struggle not to cry. “You don’t know.”
“Hell, yes, I understand. I know about holding on to things. It’s the same reason I won’t let everything my brother built up just fall apart. If you and your sister remind my family of better times and make my great-aunt happy, then—” He halted, frowning at me.
I finished darkly, “We have value. You’ve done your duty. Sure. Ella and I are only here because we serve your purpose. You despise our father and you only tolerate us.”
“I understand your loyalty to your own father.” He spoke in a low, controlled voice. “But do you have to be proud of a man who threw away his family’s future for the sake of a bunch of gutless murderers?”
The question was a slap. I felt sick at my stomach. “As long as I’ve got breath to defend him, I will.” I added bitterly, “Do you have to be proud of a system that steals from and destroys its own innocent citizens?”
“I’ll be proud of the good, God-fearing American government until the day I die,” he answered.
The river filled up the silence between us, its water singing as it tumbled and swirled around rocks worn too smooth to resist being left behind.
Sixteen
Ella and Carter didn’t return until sunset. They rode up the Hall’s picturesque main drive as if they’d been on a brief outing, Carter expertly guiding a tall, muscular gray horse and Ella wobbling on a fat little red one, who seemed so gentle she could barely lift a hoof. I watched wearily as they made their way between stretches of broad, emerald lawn and waist-high azalea shrubs so old their trunks were knotty wands. Nothing was new there, except Ella and me. I stood on the Hall’s cobblestoned front courtyard with my hands on my hips.
Gib walked out of the Hall and waited beside me. He smelled of cinnamon, delicious and edible. FeeMolly Hodger had arrived and was baking righteously. She planned a leisurely late-evening feast on the deck by the pool. I tried to ignore Gib.
“What do you plan to do?” he asked curtly. Our afternoon conversations were a wall between us. “Give your sister a spanking and restrict her phone privileges?”
“Ella and I look after each other. That may seem quaint to you, but it’s the only way we got through the past ten years. She doesn’t know how to deal with men like Carter. You of all people ought to understand, since you know how sick she was after her last romantic escapade.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s in trouble with Carter. Consider the possibility that the two of them are just having an innocent good time.”
I stared at him. “Do you honestly believe your woman-chasing cousin isn’t trying his best to nail my sister?”
“To some people, Nellie, a little casual nailing could be an innocent good time.”
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“Oh? Then why haven’t you partaken of Carter’s harem in town? I’m sure he’d share.”
He scowled. “My hammer does its best nailing on long-term building projects.”
Ella waved at us as she and Carter stopped their horses in the courtyard. Carter jumped down and held up his arms to her. She made an effort at appearing nonchalant as he swung her off her horse, but even in the shadowy light I could see that her hands trembled and her face was pale, except for large blotches of pink in her cheeks. Carter had a somber, almost urgent look. I ran to Ella and cupped a hand along her face. “You’re hot! Are you sick? What’s wrong? What did he do to upset you?”
“Nothing, Sis.” But she looked at me with a feverish glow in her green eyes, and smiled wanly.
I glared past her at Carter. His gaze was trained hypnotically on Ella, and he made no effort to notice me. Ella swayed toward him and he grasped her outstretched hands. They looked at each other as if they kept discovering small miracles. My sister’s head tilted back, her lips parted. Both she and Carter seemed caught up in reverent, soulful communication.
I’d expected to see hints of flirtation, silliness, or outright lechery. Not this bewildering seriousness. “What did you do to her?” I threatened loudly.
“Vee, shhh,” Ella whispered, never taking her eyes away from Carter.
“Whoa, Nellie,” Gib said, shouldering into our tight triangle. He stood a head taller than his cousin and looked down at him and my sister with a troubled frown. “Carter?” he asked. “What’s going on here?”
“Tell them the news,” Carter urged softly, winding Ella’s hands to his chest. “I want to hear you say the words.” Ella sighed dreamily and nodded. They faced us.
“Vee,” she moaned. She held out her arms. Her face glowed with excitement and a sudden tide of tears. She laughed. “Carter and I are in love!” She flung her arms around my neck and hugged me wildly, while I stood there dumbstruck, staring over her head. I watched Gib give flinty scrutiny to his dewy-eyed younger cousin.
“Is this a joke?” he asked.
“No way, no how,” Carter answered. “I’ve been waiting for Ella all my life. I don’t care how fast it sounds. I love her.”
“And I love him, Sis,” Ella echoed.
“You’re not in love. You’ve known him all of three days.”
Ella drew back, crying, and tenderly took my face between her hands, as if to soothe me. “Three days have been a new lifetime to me already. I’m inspired. Mom and Pop must have felt the same way. There’s magic here. Carter and I—we want to honor the same spirit they honored.”
I took her by the shoulders. “Wonderful. We’ll toast your inspirational ideas at dinner. That’ll be plenty of honor for Mom and Pop’s sake.”
“Tell them the rest, darlin’,” Carter said softly.
Ella flew back to his side, and he put his arm around her. “You say it,” she whispered.
Carter’s eyes gleamed. He grinned at Gib and me. “Everybody said the Nellies would be good luck! A fresh idea or two! Well, me and Ella are gonna prove it! We’re getting married tonight!”
• • •
It is safe to say Olivia was the barometer for every emotion from curiosity to shock. She sat in the library room with the rest of us standing around her like a royal court.
Ebb and Flo craned their heads to peek from around the hall doorway. Ebb’s mounded bangs stuck beyond the door-case even when Ebb and Flo were discreetly invisible. FeeMolly didn’t emerge from the huge central kitchen, but rumor had it she was already creating a wedding cake.
My body felt like a drum being beaten from the inside. This was no party to me, no celebration.
“Ella and me ask you for your blessings, Auntie,” Carter said to Olivia respectfully.
“Ma’am,” Ella added gently, “it would be such an honor to me if you approved of our marriage. I promise you I consider marriage vows a sacred trust.”
Olivia nodded.
“We want to call Cousin Hoss to perform the ceremony in about an hour,” Carter went on. “We want to be married at the chapel tonight, Auntie. It’s important.”
“Why Hoss?” I echoed. I was only trying to stall while I cleared my head. There wasn’t going to be any wedding.
“He’s the local judge,” Gib said, his arms folded across his chest. He stood beside me. We were united in resistance.
“What about the license? The blood test?”
“Hoss can issue the license. And the state of Tennessee doesn’t require a blood test.”
“I should have known. I suppose checking Carter for webbed toes is out of the question.”
Olivia motioned for me to come closer. She drew her notepad from her dress pocket and wrote: You disapprove of this impulse so bitterly. Why?
Stunned by her mild response, I said, “How could anyone approve of this?”
She wrote: I understand your fears. But you have to let her make her own decisions.
“Vee,” Ella moaned, “I really have to have your blessing.” I hesitated, studying her urgent, pleading expression, and felt torn apart.
“We need to talk in private,” I said.
She came to me and hugged me tightly, then stepped back. “We will. I know we have to. But that doesn’t change the fact that Carter and I dearly intend to be married tonight. Have faith. I know this seems foolish and frightening to you, and it changes everything about our future, but I believe in my heart and soul that it’s time for us to change. It’s time for new paths, Sis.”
“Paths? You don’t even have a map. Or a compass.” I swept a hand toward Carter. My voice rose. “Or any significant idea who this man is.”
“Faith. Intuition. Just trust my instincts for once. We want your blessing. Please. Please.”
“I can’t give my blessing to a wedding with a stranger.”
“I’m afraid I have to agree,” Gib said. “Carter, there’s no reason why you and Ella have to rush. You can get to know each other first. Hell, Carter, at least take Ella on a few dates and go see a movie or two.”
“I know her heart and soul already,” Carter answered with quiet confidence. “Before I met her I was a boy playing at being a man. Now I’m ready to be a man. This isn’t silliness. This is Ella. Ella Arinelli. Who believed in me from the minute we met, just like I believe in her.”
Olivia wrote for a while then handed the pad to Bea, who drew herself up proudly and read in a ringing voice, “ ‘Take joy where you find it and accept passion where it must be celebrated. I give my blessing on Ella and Carter. We need a wedding here. Tonight. Yes.’ ”
I gazed at Olivia bitterly. She returned the look with quiet challenge, as if saying I had no choice, and she hoped I accepted her edict. “My sister isn’t a Cameron possession,” I said in a low, even voice. “You can’t agree to this just because you think a wedding would be good for family morale. I’ll fight you on it.”
Olivia stared at me calmly. One gray brow arched slightly. She nodded toward Carter and my sister, who were mesmerized by each other even as we discussed them. You’ve already lost, Olivia’s expression seemed to say.
“ ‘Do we all know what this date is?’ ” Bea continued to read Olivia’s written statement. “ ‘What special event today’s date marks?’ ”
“Yes,” Ella said softly, looking at me. “Vee and I just couldn’t bear to talk about it. But it’s why Carter and I decided we have to be married right now.”
Silence. My throat closed. I wanted to scream, drag Ella out of there, cry for corrupted joys and symbolic pride, and kill Carter Macintosh with my bare hands. “What’s everybody talking about, Mama?” I heard Jasper whisper.
Kelly added, “What’s today?”
“It’s an anniversary,” she answered gently. “We’ve been waiting for our guests to mention it first.”
I saw pinpoints of light and my knees went weak. I felt Gib’s strong left hand in the small of my back, steadying me. That made me arch away from him, and
the renewed defense made him nod approvingly.
Because thirty years ago on this date, Mom and Pop had gotten married at the chapel.
“Is the sonuvabitch in that room?” I asked quietly. Gib stood in the hall near a closed bedroom door. The perfect bodyguard. He looked troubled, but firm.
“The sonuvabitch is getting dressed for his wedding,” he murmured. “And no, I won’t let you go in there and kill him.”
“He can’t marry my sister. He doesn’t have what it takes to care for her—he has no clue what she needs, how fragile she is. You know what I mean.”
Gib took me by one arm and led me a discreet distance away from the door. Then he said, “You think I approve of what’s happening? This kind of half-cocked idea is the last thing we need right now. Are you saying she hasn’t told him about Detroit?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt she has. She wants to pretend Carter’s special. She wants to believe nothing bad will ever happen to her now that she’s here.”
“For the record, my cousin is probably the most stand-up, decent-hearted man she’s ever met. And he sure as hell ought to be warned about her.”
“Warned?”
“Pull in your claws and don’t look at me that way. You want to be honest about this, well, so do I. Ella’s a sweet soul, but she’s got a history of mental problems.”
“Mental problems? She’s sensitive and highstrung. She had a nervous breakdown following a traumatic romance and a miscarriage. That’s not a mental problem.”
“Whatever you want to call it, she’s not likely to turn into a rock of stability overnight. I think a man ought to know exactly what he’s getting in a wife. I’d say the same thing if we were talking about alcoholism or a heart defect or any kind of disability.”
“How could you?” I grabbed his maimed hand in both of mine. “You of all people should have compassion for someone who’s not perfect—whether it’s physical or mental.”
His scarred fingers closed over mine like thick clasps. “I can’t hide my hand no matter how much I try I don’t make excuses for it. And I wouldn’t deceive a woman into loving me or marrying me with the idea that somehow she’s going to work a miracle and make my hand normal again. Truth is the issue.”