The Game of Denial (11 page)

"What favors do you need?"

"Will you take pictures at the wedding and reception?"

"They've already hired a professional photographer for that."

"But they don't know us, as real people. I'd like something more candid and not taken by a drunken guest. Would you do that?"

"Sure. I don't expect to be dancing much or anything. And the second favor?"

"Would you show me the pictures you've taken at the farm when we get home?"

"I've got a really good one of you riding."

"You little sneak! Did you get one of me walking funny afterward?"

"Of course!"

Joan pushed Meg away playfully. Making Meg come along had been a good idea. She needed to spend more time with her youngest daughter and vowed to do so when they returned to New York.

"Mom!" Fran called out.

"We're coming!" Joan said.

Chapter Twelve

FOR THE SECOND night in a row, Joan was having difficulty getting to sleep. She was tired, but every time she closed her eyes sadness seemed to fill her mind and it refused to shut down. Maybe it was the anticipation of the wedding or her desire to be in her own home. She should have been exhausted by the time they returned from Loganville. Certainly after listening to Fran recount for Brad everything they had done and giving a detailed description of the lovely older cottage the realtor showed them. Joan had to admit that it was a picturesque and well-maintained cottage that had been built in the early nineteen hundreds. Then she dragged herself upstairs before midnight only to find Meg sitting in the middle of her bed, camera in hand, anxious to show Joan the pictures she had taken.

She had looked carefully at Meg's photographs and commented on several of them. Her composition was excellent and Joan had to admit she was impressed. Finally alone, it was almost one-thirty in the morning before she stretched out on the down-filled bed. Irritated with herself, Joan threw the covers off and stepped into her slippers. She pulled her robe on and made her way downstairs in the dark. Gentle light from an almost full moon streamed in through the front windows, providing ample light to avoid bumping into furniture. She quietly opened the front door and made her way onto the porch. She sat down on the porch swing and plumped up a couple of pillows resting against the back and leaned against them. She draped one leg over the side of the swing and began to relax as the swing gently moved back and forth.

She didn't know how long she had been semi-reclining when she heard the front door open. She sat up and watched a silhouette step onto the porch.

"I couldn't sleep either," Evey's voice broke the quiet softly. "I made some chamomile tea. Sometimes it helps me when my mind won't shut down at night." Evey set a cup on the table next to the swing before making herself comfortable in a nearby rocking chair.

Joan picked up the cup and could see wisps of steam rising from its contents. "Thanks. I don't usually have trouble falling asleep," Joan said before she took a sip of the hot liquid.

"It was a very busy day. All the running around we did today makes it difficult to shut the brain down, I guess. Add that to all the excitement going on around here and anyone would have difficulty sleeping."

"I suppose," Joan said. She cleared her throat before speaking again. "I...um...my mind seems to be suddenly flooded with memories."

"About what? If you don't mind my asking."

"The wedding I suppose. Don't take this the wrong way because we all love Brad, but it brings back the memory of Tucker's wedding. That was truly the best of times and the worst of times for all of us."

Evey rocked quietly and drank her tea, waiting for Joan to continue.

Joan took in a deep breath. "Tucker and Giselle were married almost eleven years ago and they were very young. Tuck just graduated from college and was preparing to go to law school. Right after graduation he announced he was getting married that summer so he and Giselle wouldn't be separated. We thought he should wait, but when he refused there wasn't much Martine and I could do about it. It was a very difficult time for us. Martine had been diagnosed with breast cancer a few months earlier. We tried to downplay the seriousness of her condition for the children for as long as possible, but it was obvious her condition was deteriorating. By the time the wedding date rolled around I wasn't sure she would be strong enough to even attend. But she was a very strong-willed woman and exceptionally brave. I don't think I have ever been prouder than when I escorted her down that aisle. The way she was breathing seemed more labored than usual and she gripped my hand tightly throughout the entire ceremony.

"I tried to convince her to skip the reception afterward, but she insisted on going. She stood through the receiving line and when Tucker danced with her, the way she looked up at him and smiled with such love and pride nearly broke my heart."

"When did she pass away?"

"Three or four months later. I wish she could be here for Fran to see how beautiful she is now." Joan cleared her throat again and sipped her tea.

"I'm sure she'll be watching over the ceremony."

"If you believe in such things. I'm not sure I do any more."

"You loved her very much."

"More than anything," Joan said in a firm voice. She cleared her throat. "I'm concerned about seeing my mother again tomorrow. Maybe that's why I can't sleep. I'm not looking forward to it." She sensed Evey's unasked question. "Martine and our relationship were never accepted by my mother. When Martine passed away, she refused to attend the funeral. Only my brother came. That snub hurt me more deeply than anything ever has." She shook her head. "This will be the first time I've seen her since I lost Martine and I'm not sure I can get over that kind of total nonacceptance of who I am."

"Perhaps she's mellowed since then," Evey said.

"If she has she'll probably be more like old cheese than fine wine," Joan said.

JOAN PACED RESTLESSLY around the house. She had gotten up much earlier than she wanted, before the sun rose over the surrounding hills and long before the morning shadows were cast across the peaceful setting around her. She hadn't slept well, despite the chamomile tea, and the result was a dark mood. Hoping to flush the thoughts from her head she ran farther and longer than usual, gasping for air by the time she returned to the porch of the farm house. It was the day she had been dreading since Fran announced her wedding date and place. Joan rested her hands on her knees and tried to fight off the feeling of nausea churning in her stomach. Take deep breaths. Try to think positively. Don't let personal issues cast a cloud over Fran's happiness. Grin and bear it. Act like an adult, not a simpering child. She shook her head. None of her mental pep talks were working. She longed for the feel of Martine's arms around her, her lilting accent murmuring in her ear. With Martine at her side, Joan knew she could do anything, face any adversary. But Martine was no longer at her side. She would be alone to face her mother.

"You're up early," Evey said from behind her.

Joan straightened up so quickly that her movement momentarily threw her off balance and she felt light-headed. Evey reached out and took her arm to steady her. "Are you all right?" Evey asked, concern tingeing her voice.

"I'm fine, thank you. Probably ran too far this morning on an empty stomach," Joan answered, taking a deep breath to calm her mind and slow her heartbeat.

"I was going to fix a light breakfast before I started work. Why don't you join me before the thundering herd wakes up?"

"Let me take a quick shower first."

Joan followed Evey into the house, appreciating the scent of freshly-brewed coffee wafting into the front room.

"Bacon and eggs okay?" Evey asked as Joan started up the stairs to her room.

"Sounds wonderful."

Joan's hair was still damp and she ran her fingers through it as she entered the kitchen. She felt better, at least on the outside.

Evey looked over her shoulder, her seemingly constant smile on her face. "Just in time," she said as she set two plates on the table.

Joan poured a mug of coffee and pulled out a chair. "Smells divine," she sighed.

Evey cut her eggs and filled her mouth, washing it down with a swallow of coffee. "Today's the big day," she said.

"What?"

"The rest of your family is arriving this afternoon, right?"

Joan stared intently at her plate and nodded.

"I gather you're not thrilled about seeing them," Evey said. "Frannie's told me you're not exactly close."

"Fran's being very generous," Joan said as she leaned back and sipped her coffee. "If it had been my decision they wouldn't have been invited." Joan gazed blankly out the kitchen window. "That's not true," she finally said. "I would have invited my brother. Even though he has no parental rights, he is Fran's biological father."

"And your rift with your mother?"

"As I said last night, we haven't spoken since Martine's death. She believed Martine had corrupted me in some way and never acknowledged her as my spouse."

"But the children..."

"She does accept them as her grandchildren. Fran and Charmaine because Ron is their father and Tuck and Meg because I gave birth to them. Martine, even over my strenuous objections, insisted on sending school pictures and such every year. Occasionally the girls would visit their uncle and I suppose Mother saw them then." Joan took another sip of her drink. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound bitter. I promise not to start a scene while we're in your home."

"I'm sorry the next few days may not be pleasant for you," Evey said.

"I won't allow anything to ruin Fran and Brad's wedding."

JOAN'S CELL RANG at three-thirty that afternoon. She looked at the incoming number and saw Tucker's name. "Hello," she said as she flipped open the phone.

"We should be there in about fifteen minutes," Tucker's voice said. "Lock and load."

"Thanks." They had decided that Tucker, Brad, and Fran would meet the private plane that was bringing Joan's worst nightmare to the peaceful Virginia countryside.

Joan closed the phone and disconnected. She stepped onto the wrap-around porch and saw Evey striding toward the house. Brad must have called his mother as well. A few minutes later Giselle and the children rounded the side of the house and Charmaine, accompanied by Meg, stepped onto the porch. To Joan, they looked like an army preparing for battle. Well, that's what it would be, she thought. She moved to stand behind her children and grandchildren. It would be better if she were the last to greet her mother. She rested her hands on Meg's shoulders and squeezed them lightly.

Meg looked over her shoulder and smiled at Joan. "Let the games begin," she said.

"At least they're staying in town," Joan said.

She was surprised to see a second vehicle following the farm's Suburban when they made the final sweeping curve leading to the house. Joan looked at Evey and shrugged.

As soon as the vehicles stopped Brad, Fran, and Tucker got out. The second car pulled in next to the Suburban. Tucker opened the back door of the sedan much like a hotel valet might and held out his hand. A moment later a tall, rather elegant looking woman with snowy white hair stood next to Tucker and took his arm. Byron Carmichael stepped from behind the steering wheel. He smiled broadly and waved as he walked around the car to open the front passenger door. A woman in her thirties took his hand and stood up. Joan didn't recognize her. The older woman holding Tucker's arm held a cane in her other hand as they made their way slowly toward the front steps. Joan pressed her hand against Meg's back signaling her to greet her grandmother. Before Meg could take a step, however, Charmaine went down the steps and embraced the older woman. "
Meme
," she said, taking her hand. Finally Meg joined them for a series of expected hugs and kisses.

"She looks happy to see them," Evey noted quietly.

"Uh-huh," Joan said as she leaned against a porch pillar.

Luella Carmichael stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up at Joan. She held her hand out and Joan took a step down to assist her mother in negotiating the steps onto the porch. Luella's grip was strong as Joan and Tucker helped her.

"It's good to see you again Joan," Luella said as she straightened her clothing slightly.

Joan leaned forward and embraced her mother lightly before quickly releasing her. "I'm glad you could be here for Fran, Mother," she said.

Fran quickly joined them and introduced her grandmother to Brad's family before everyone filed inside. Tucker and Joan remained on the porch alone for a few minutes.

"How is she?" Joan asked.

"About the same. Didn't talk much at the airport," Tucker answered.

"Was she upset to be staying in town?"

"Doesn't seem like it. She has a first floor suite you're paying for."

"Who the hell is that with Byron? The flavor of the month?"

Tucker patted his mother on the back. "Her name is Anita Ferguson. Apparently a secretary at Carmichael Industries. She's actually quite a pleasant woman."

"She has to be at least twenty years younger than Byron," Joan said, shaking her head.

"He was told he could bring a guest and you know he prefers younger women."

"That's because their bullshit meters are broken," Joan said with a smirk. She plastered a smile on her face as she watched her brother escort his companion onto the porch. She stepped forward to hug him and place a light kiss on his cheek.

"You're lookin' good, Joanie," Byron said.

"No one calls me that, Byron," Joan said.

"I always have."

"And I always hated it."

Ron turned to the young woman accompanying him. "Joan, allow me to introduce someone very special. This is Anita Ferguson. Anita, this is my older sister, Joan Carmichael."

Anita extended her hand and smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last, Ms. Carmichael," the redhead said as she took Joan's hand and pumped it briskly.