Page 3 of Good Dirt

At Least, This

2018

W ell, of course they had hoped for a day like today. If life had taught them anything, it was that a person’s path still could be lit by moments of joy, even after unspeakable loss. And here they were. Soh and Ed Freeman smiled at each other then looked up at the window, where they could just make out the crown of flowers on their daughter’s head. Peaches and pinks. They glimpsed the dark tone of her arms against her cream-colored dress. No bridal veil, Ebby had insisted. Just the flowers and her granny’s gown, the bodice above the flounced skirt adjusted to fit. What a lovely young woman their child had become.

There was a glint of light from their daughter’s engagement ring as she moved away from the window. Sapphires flanking a two-carat diamond, handed down to her by her other grandma, Soh’s mother. There was no personal keepsake from the groom’s mother. Not that it was necessary, but it was the kind of gesture that those who knew the Peppers might have expected.

True, Henry’s parents had hosted an impeccable dinner for the couple at their club three days before, but Soh and Ed couldn’t help but notice that Henry’s mother had not embraced their daughter that night. Hadn’t kissed her on the cheek. Hadn’t even taken her hand. Henry, though, had stayed close to Ebby all evening. His arm around her waist. His nose brushing her cheek. Love might not conquer all, they realized, especially in a marriage between a black woman and a white man. Even nowadays. But mostly, love still carried more weight than pretty much anything. And they were hopeful.

Ed thought back to his own wedding day and reached out to touch his wife’s fingers. Their ceremony and reception had been chock-full of guests from the black fraternities, social clubs, and summer resort circles to which they, like their parents, belonged. With all that he and Soh had inherited and were passing down to their daughter, Ed wanted to believe they had equipped their child with everything she would need to find her way in this life.

Soh tried to slow time. Savor the moment. She breathed deeply, took in the scents of the freshly mowed grass, the potted flowers along the stone path, the good dirt. The salt air coming off the Sound, a hint of chill signaling the beginning of fall. If only she could stop worrying. She looked around her garden. There were plenty of guests from the groom’s side. She recognized two Fortune 500 businessmen, and that artist whose somewhat mystifying work was currently doing the rounds at the bigger museums. But there was no sign of Henry and his parents.

The Peppers were running late, today of all days.

When Ebby returned to the window, she was holding something against her torso. They saw the silvery, rectangular shape and understood. It was a framed photograph of their son, taken one morning before school. With the jar, and that impish smile of his. Typical Baz. He would have been thirty-three years old, now, had he lived. He would have been down here in the garden with them, waiting for his sister. They had lost so much as a family. But today, they were looking forward, not only back.

Within a minute, everything would change. Ebby would lean against the glass pane and they would catch the strained expression on her face. She would call her mother’s cellphone, which would vibrate in the satin purse under Soh’s arm. Soh would hurry upstairs to speak with her daughter. Whispers would start to circulate among the guests in the garden. And finally, Ed would walk into his home office, shut the door, and telephone the groom’s father, trying to keep his cool. Tell me this isn’t happening, he would say.

But before any of this came to pass, they were simply the mother and father of the bride, standing on the walkway leading up to the gazebo, their backs to the sea, their eyes focused on their girl, both thinking exactly the same thing: At least, this. At least, this.