Cutler 05 - Darkest Hour

willing to put up much of a fuss when it comes to conflict."
    I nodded and then I ran forward to embrace Vera and thank her. It brought tears to her eyes. Little Charlotte was jealous of the expression of affection and cried to be picked up. I lifted her in my arms and kissed her cheek.
    "Please watch over Charlotte as best you can, Vera. It breaks my heart to leave her behind."
    "You don't have to ask, Miss Lillian. I think of her as I do my own Luther. The two of them will grow up side by side and will watch over each other, too, I'm sure," Vera said. "Now let's get this dress in shape. It might not be the most expensive wedding, but you're going to shine as though it was the fanciest wedding this part of Virginia ever did see. Miss Georgia would want it no other way."
    I laughed and had to agree. If Mamma were alive and well, she would be running all over the house, seeing that everything was clean and shiny. She'd have flowers everywhere. It would be just as it was when she hosted one of her famous barbecues. I could see her now, blossoming more and more with every minute that drew us closer and closer to the gala event. When Mamma was young and beautiful she basked in the activity and excitement, soaking it up the way a flower soaks up sunlight.
    That joie de vivre was something Emily hadn't inherited. She had little interest in the preparations, except to discuss the religious aspects of the ceremony with the minister, deciding on the prayers and the hymns. And Papa was only concerned about keeping the expense down as much as he could. When Bill Cutler heard how Papa was cutting corners, he told him not to worry about the expenses; he would pick up the cost of the reception to follow the ceremony. He wanted it to be a good party, even though it was going to be small.
    "I've got a few close friends coming. Make sure there's music," he ordered. "And plenty of good whiskey. No Southern rotgut." Papa was embarrassed about taking his future son-in-law's handout, but he acceded to Bill Cutler's demands, contracted a band and had some servants hired to help Vera serve and prepare fancier foods.
    Each day that drew me closer to my wedding date made me more and more anxious. Sometimes I would stop in the middle of what I was doing and find my fingers trembling, my legs shaking, a sick, empty feeling swirling in the bottom of my stomach. As if he knew the sight of him might change my mind, Bill Cutler stayed away from The Meadows until our wedding day. He told Papa he had to return to Cutler's Cove to see about his hotel. His own daddy was dead and his mother too old and senile to travel. He was an only child and would return with some close friends and no relatives.
    Some of Papa's and Mamma's cousins were coming. Miss Walker replied to my invitation and promised to attend. Papa restricted his invitations to a half dozen neighboring families, the Thompsons not being one of them, All in all, there were barely three dozen guests, a far cry from the hordes of people who used to show up for one of the great affairs at The Meadows in its heyday.
    The night before my wedding, I hardly ate a morsel at dinner. My stomach was all in knots. I felt like someone being sentenced to a chain gang. Papa took one look at me and went into one of his rages.
    "Don't you come down those stairs tomorrow wearing that long face, Lillian. I don't want people thinking I'm sending you to your death. I'm spending all I can afford and then some to make this a nice affair," he said, pretending not to have taken anything from Bill Cutler.
    "I'm sorry, Papa," I cried. "I'm trying, but I can't help how I feel."
    "You should feel blessed," Emily inserted. "You're going to participate in one of the most sacred of sacraments—marriage—and you should think of it only as that," she lectured, looking down her long thin nose at me pompously.
    "I can't think of my marriage as a sacrament; it's more like a curse," I retorted. "I'm being treated no better than the slaves were treated before the Civil War, traded off like a horse or a cow."
    "Damn!" Papa cried, smashing the table with his fist. The dishes jumped. "If you embarrass me tomorrow . . ."
    "Don't worry, Papa," I said with a sigh. "I will walk down the aisle and take Bill Cutler's hand in marriage. I'll recite the words, but that's all it will be, a recital. I won't mean any vow I take."
    "If you put your hand on the Bible and lie—" Emily began to threaten.
    "Stop it, Emily. Do you think God is