“Then you tell Carter that my sister spent a month in the psychiatric ward of a Detroit hospital. And you tell Carter she’s been pregnant, and she lost the baby. You tell him. And make sure he knows she also had a nervous breakdown ten years ago, after our father died. Go ahead.” I stepped back, trembling, furious, heartsick, and jerked my head toward the closed door. “Tell your cousin the brutal facts. He’ll appreciate you for protecting his interests that way. Go ahead.”
Gib’s stony, frustrated expression said I’d made my point. “Goddamn,” he said, shutting his eyes briefly. He looked at the closed door. “You win. Ella has to be the one to tell him.”
Min and Isabel came around a corner in the shadowy hall and looked from us to the closed door anxiously. I quickly released Gib’s hand and stepped back. “I brought this for Ella,” Min said. She held out a slender jewelry box and opened the lid. A magnificent strand of pearls was coiled neatly inside.
“Something borrowed, for good luck. I thought she’d like to wear these. They’re mine. My husband gave them to me on our twentieth anniversary.” She touched the pearls gently.
“And something blue,” Isabel added, holding out a lovely pale blue handkerchief with initials embroidered in one corner. “This belonged to Great-grandmother Vameer. She was a Yankee schoolteacher from Maine. Great-grandfather hired her to teach the local children. He sponsored the community school. When he met her at the train station in Knoxville he was drunk. She hit him with her valise. If you look at her handkerchief—see, right there?—that’s a tiny stain from his blood. The valise’s metal clasp cut his lip.”
In the middle of chaos I was being confronted with more Cameron heirlooms and another peculiar Cameron love story. My mind was on fire. “You’ve been kind to my sister and kind to me,” I said to Min and Isabel, “but I’m sorry, there’s nothing joyful about this marriage. It won’t last.”
Min smiled sympathetically. “That’s what my family said when Simon and I eloped. We were so young.”
“It’s not the same situation.”
“Oh, yes, it is. Olivia took me in immediately, no questions asked, the same as she’s taking in you and Ella. For better or worse. When you marry a Cameron you marry the whole family. I’m serious.”
“Venus,” Isabel interjected gently, laying a hand on my arm, “I knew my husband for two years before I married him, but that didn’t help. We can’t promise you that your sister will be happy with Carter, but we can promise you she’ll be accepted here. And so will you. This kind of impulsive marriage isn’t all that bizarre. Not by our standards.”
“I don’t want to insult any of you, but I have no reason to think your cousin has what it takes to make a normal marriage work, much less this … this excuse for a wedding ceremony.”
The bedroom door flew open. Carter stood there, solemn yet preening in dark trousers with a buckskin fringed jacket. He adjusted a turquoise bolero at his collar then realized I was staring murderously at him. “I was about to come see you,” he said. “To beg you to give your blessing on us. For Ella’s sake. You’re the be-all and end-all to her, sister-wise.”
“I’ll make you a deal. Call off this wedding and I’ll give you our money. You can have all of it.”
Gasps. Min and Isabel looked stricken. Gib blew out a long breath and shook his head. Carter’s gaze dulled and his chin rose proudly. “You think I’m a half-breed Indian welfare case? I’ve got money in the bank. I don’t deserve what you just said.”
“I don’t know what you deserve. I don’t know you. All I know is that you’re going to wreck my sister’s life.”
“I’d say her life’s been a wreck for a long time. I’m not going to be disrespectful to you, Miss Vee. You’re Ella’s sister. But your daddy just about did wreck you and that sweet girl, and I thank you for loving her and looking after her as best you could, but now I’ll take over for you, and I swear to God you’ll never have to worry about her again. I swear to you.”
“You won’t keep that vow longer than it takes to use her and throw her away,” I said in a low, strained voice.
“You’re wrong. For the first time in my life I feel like I’m whole instead of half. I’m not on the outside of the candy store with my nose pressed to the glass. I’ve got the other side of my heart now. You don’t know how it is to grow up feeling that you’re not a whole person. Not Cherokee. Not white. Well, your sister sees me. Me. Clearer than anybody ever has before.”
“I don’t give a damn one way or the other about your bloodlines. My father could teach you a lesson or two about the courage it takes to grow up half-white and unwanted.” I turned to walk away, then looked back in defeat. “You’re marrying his bloodline, and you’ll never live up to it.”
Ella was dressing for the wedding. A clock on the fireplace in our guest room chimed ten times. “I’ll wear this white blouse and the gold linen skirt that goes with my suit, and my gold pumps, and—” She halted. I was simply staring at her from the center of the room. Her shoulders sagged. She stood there in an ivory knee-length slip, wiping her eyes, then wiping her wet fingertips on the silk. She’d been crying since I shut the bedroom door. “Go ahead and talk to me,” she begged.
“You can’t do this. It’s insane.”
“All spiritual devotion is reckless. But I feel to the core of my being that this is what I have to do. We sat for an hour on a mountaintop just watching the eagles glide in the sky. Eagles, Vee. We didn’t say a word, and it felt perfect. And then other times we talked so quickly we finished each other’s sentences.”
“What happened when you weren’t talking or watching birds of prey?”
“We talked about sex, but then he said, ‘I want to be different with you. I want to be sacred.’ I agreed. And he asked me to marry him. And I said yes. It was so easy, Vee. So right.”
“Did you tell him about Detroit?”
“No. He doesn’t need to know that.”
“Yes, he does. He’s acting like a sweet kid in love because he doesn’t know the responsibility you’re handing him. Don’t make him go into this blind. If you can’t be honest with him about what happened to you and how sick you were—”
“I’m well now! I can have more babies—I’m sure of it. And I’m not crazy.”
“I didn’t say you are or ever were crazy. I’m saying you have a history of special health concerns, and the man you’re going to marry ought to know about them.”
“I’ve finished grieving. I can move forward. I’m full of hope—more hope than I’ve ever had before. This is different. With him—it’s special. You can’t change my mind.”
I felt weighed down, trapped. I needed to push my hands against the air and spread invisible walls. “You can’t marry this man,” I repeated between gritted teeth. “People won’t understand. They’ll gossip. They’ll say you want his money, his name.”
“I’m used to gossip. So are you.”
“We’re a team. An act. You can’t break that up.”
Ella smiled. “We’re a great team, but we’re not much of an act, and you know it. I want to retire from show business. I love this valley, Sis. I love this family. There’s an old Victorian farm cottage beyond the east pastures.”
“Gib showed it to me. What’s the point?”
“It was built by one of Carter’s relatives. It needs a lot of work, but Carter’s been making plans to restore it. He took me there and carried me over the threshold, and he said he could picture me in that house with him and our children! Oh, Sis! I’ll have a home! And children! And a husband I truly love. And you’ll always have a home, too. We’ll both be part of this family.”
I said softly, “You’re marrying a stranger because you’re desperate to replace your lost baby and you want to guarantee a home for us.”
“No! Oh, dear Lord, no. Don’t think that!”
“I won’t let you do it.”
“Vee, I’m not marrying just to have babies and a place to live! I’m marrying for absolute and to
tal, passionate, honest love. To build a home and a family with my life’s partner.”
“I’ll make a deal with you. We’ll find a permanent job in Nashville. We’ll sell the RV and get an apartment. You can visit here. Carter can visit you. Take it nice and slow, see how you feel about him as you get to know him better. How’s that for a compromise?”
“It’s very safe and reasonable,” she said, “but I don’t need to create artificial safety with Carter. I am safe with him. I’ve never felt that way before with a man.”
“He’s two years younger than you. He doesn’t have a real job or any apparent ambition. He has a two-bit harem in town. You don’t even know his family, other than his aunt and uncle.”
“Age makes no difference. And of course he has a job—he’s taken care of everything around the Hall, and the outbuildings, and the livestock this past year—and the Camerons are his family. The Macintoshes and the Camerons take care of each other.”
“You’re my family. I thought you trusted me to build a future for us.”
“I’m trying to stand up for what’s best for you, too. We can’t go on the way we were. I love you, Sis, but I’ve fallen in love with the right man, finally. The only man for me. Please try to learn to love him as your brother-in-law.” The thought was so preposterous I could only gape at her. The clock chimed ten-fifteen and I flinched.
She took my icy hands. “Give him a chance. Give this family a chance. Feel the difference these people can make in our lives. And the goodness we can add to their lives. They need us, Vee.”
I bit my tongue. “Sandsprings Resort,” I offered, watching her with urgent, strained enthusiasm. “I’m sure we can have six months if we want it. Starting the first of October. The main lounge.”
Ella loved Sandsprings. It was in northern Florida, a few miles from Daytona Beach. We’d wintered there twice before. The weather hovered around sixty degrees most days, and the clientele were mainly snowbird retirees and old folks nesting on fat pension funds. Sandsprings guaranteed good tips, few hassles, and long, peaceful walks along the sand dunes of the Atlantic coast. “I’ll call the manager right now,” I said.
“Vee,” she replied sadly, shaking her head. “Please stop. I am going to marry Carter Macintosh tonight.”
I felt as if my brain exploded with fear and frustration. I flung up my right hand.
And I slapped my sister.
Pop never struck either of us. Never. And I’d never dreamed I could be provoked into hitting Ella.
She didn’t shed a tear. That’s how horrible it was. She turned to stone and so did I. Her eyes were the only life in her for a few seconds—wounded, the pain showing in deep green shadows, but then forgiving. She made a mewling sound. I threw my arms around her and held her tightly. She wound her arms around me.
“I’m not deserting you, I swear,” she whispered.
“I’ll be here for you when it all falls apart,” I answered.
Seventeen
Ella Akiko Arinelli and Carter Walking Eagle Macintosh were married by Colonel Harold “Hoss” Cameron, Retired, in a plain civil service at the two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old Cameron Catholic/Scottish/Cherokee chapel, just before midnight on our parents’ thirtieth wedding anniversary.
I don’t remember many details because I could only concentrate on standing beside Ella in silent duty, dressed in a black silk tank top, black toreador pants, and five-inch stacked-heel black Mary Janes. In that getup I hoped I represented unsentimental pragmatism and the last gasping hope for our all but extinct family tree. My head whirled with the lamplight and the faint smell of burning oil.
“The bride and groom can kiss,” Hoss said at the end, and they did. I went dutifully to the creaky old organ and played something dignified, I can’t even remember what. When I finished I sat there until Gib finally took me by one arm and whispered, “Just hold on,” and I let him guide me from the chapel.
Back at the Hall he stayed beside me. We watched Ella and Carter accept champagne toasts from Hoss and Sophia, then Hoover Bird and Goldfish, and finally Olivia.
My sister was an ornament now. A Cameron possession. The latest in a long line of women and a few men who’d been bribed, coaxed, bullied, forced, or seduced into settling in the wild Cameron Valley.
She and Carter ate slices from FeeMolly’s two-tiered wedding cake with an impromptu decoration of fresh purple and white pansy blooms on top. Bo Burton snapped pictures. I played the theme from the late-sixties movie version of Romeo and Juliet on the baby grand in the music room. Gib leaned against the piano with a flute of champagne cupped in one brawny hand and his face starkly composed. He had changed into a charcoal-gray suit for his role as Carter’s best man. His expression grew darker as he listened. “Now there’s a happy wedding song,” he said drolly. “Lovers who kill themselves. I bet your next selection will be that happy little ‘They’ll never see each other again’ tune from Dr. Zhivago.”
“Did you know,” I said dully, “that the Japanese see the ending of Romeo and Juliet as the only correct way to tell the story? To them it’s a play about two people who disobeyed and dishonored their families. Romeo and Juliet had to kill themselves. It was the only way they could restore the balance.”
“By God, there’s a cheerful thought. You want that ending for Carter and your sister? Would that make you happy?”
“Don’t you dare—” I began, but he put a finger to his lips. Ella was headed our way. She was flushed and fluttering. Her eyes gleamed but were swollen from crying. I stood.
“We’re leaving now,” she told me. I felt the hush in the room, everyone trying to look away, to pretend not to listen. “We’ll be at Carter’s place tonight and come back over during the day, tomorrow. If you need me you can call.”
“You mean he has a phone?”
“Of course he has. Please, Sis, give us your blessing.”
All I could make myself say was, “I want you to be happy. I hope you will be. I’ll be here when you need me.”
Not if, when. Carter came to us and took her by one hand. His eyes flashed. His mouth was tight. “Thank you for what generosity you’ve given us,” he said formally.
I stared at him and said nothing.
Ella hugged me hard. Against my ear she whispered, “I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Use condoms,” I whispered back.
She kissed my forehead, began to cry again, then smiled at everyone and turned back to Carter. They left the room. I felt the blood draining from my face. It took all my willpower not to run after them and beg her to tell me this was a joke, that she’d changed her mind.
I walked numbly out one of the back doors and across the lawn, into the apple orchards, until I bumped into a wrought-iron bench and sat down. I folded my hands on my lap and gazed into the darkness.
What was I up against? Only one of the founding families of Tennessee. All-American aristocracy with a Native American bloodline to clinch the title. Revolutionary War heroes, Civil War heroes, you name it. Sitting squarely in an 1800s manor house that looked as if it belonged among the heather and lochs of Scotland.
The Camerons were everything Ella had always wished our family could be.
A minute later Gib spoke. “I’m here, just over here, nearby. No need to talk to me. Just so you know you’re not alone.” I couldn’t believe what was happening to us. After just a few days in their company I was being asked to accept the most intimate family ties with strangers. After years of trusting no one, I was suddenly expected to trust everyone.
Gib was wrong. I knew exactly how alone I was now.
She was radiant. When Ella and Carter finally strolled back to the Hall late the next afternoon, she was pink-cheeked and bright-eyed and unable to break the habit of admiring Carter with long, distracted looks. He returned the favor and held her hand as if she were made of the most delicate crystal. Her glow faded only when her eyes met mine. I knew my scrutiny was merciless. When she hugged me, I could only think how sep
arate she was from me now. That a stranger had come between us in every sense of the word. “Do we have your blessings today?” she asked.
“You know I want what’s best for you,” I said.
“That’s not a blessing.”
“It’s honesty. That’s better. You know you can always count on me.”
Ella regarded me with an aura of confidence that was blossoming more every minute. She tilted her head gently. Her hair slid across her left eye like liquid honey. She pushed it behind her ear. It was the most sensual and natural movement, as if she were finally, fully aware of herself as a woman. “I can’t discuss what happened between my husband and me because it’s sacred between a husband and wife. You know that. But I will say that he’s wonderful and it was beautiful.” She paused, smiling widely. “Every time.”
“What brought Carter to this spirit of sanctified privacy? A concussion? This is a man who was group-kissing women and dancing with a goat last week.”
Ella smiled as if I were teasing. “It’s important to me that you get past your doubts and accept my choice. I love you, Sis. What is it about me that you love?”
“That’s not important.”
“Why do you love me? I’m not very useful.”
“I love you because you collect feathers and believe in angels.”
“Is that all?”
“Because you love people. You believe in the goodness of people. You’re kind. Because you remind me of our mother.”
“If you love me, how can you find nothing to love about Carter?”
“Excuse me?”
“I love him, and you love me. I see qualities in him that I cherish. If you value my spirit then you should realize my spirit at work through the people I love.”
“You married a man like Pop. An outsider. That’s the attraction, isn’t it?”