A Southern Girl: A Novel

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Flow 319 nostalgia, enhanced by the springtime unfolding around me. The swiftness of our ascension from business associates, kindly put, to potential lovers confounds me. When I left her in the chill of her doorway, there was no talk of future but intense gratification in the moment. j 32 i On Sunday Allie and I attend St. Philip’s. I scan the crowd as we stand, kneel, and sit, the mechanical rosary of the Episcopal Church. St. Simeons are everywhere. Margarite and John are here, regal in their perfectly pitched piety. Sandy and Edgar Charles slipped in moments after the service began. Clarkson Mills is absent, but I see Rosemary among the crowd up front. Adelle is also present, a reminder of unresolved tension. I owe her nothing, as I have reiterated internally time and again since my evening with Natalie. Still, I brood. Was there some implied fidelity? Had I bound myself to her at some level of commitment violated by foreplay with Natalie ? That sounds prudish for a reason: I am a prude. My veneration of fidelity among competing virtues could, I am sure, be explained by time and psychotherapy. A harbored need for precision movement in the mainspring of my being will not abide the rust and corrosion of guilt from violated loyalties. Yet I felt not a pang of remorse while with Natalie. Amazing to me, I did not once think of Adelle during the entire evening, and what that says about the future of our relationship seems too obvious, regardless of Natalie. Telling Adelle will be uncomfortable , not to mention the potential for changing the tally on the committee . Would I keep her close just to keep her vote? As we exit, we are approached by Doc Francis, whom I did not notice inside. He looks serious, and sad. He speaks first to Allie. His nasal brogue is distinct. “Young lady,” he says, pumping her hand with both of his, “I haven’t seen you in a couple of years. You’ve grown up. Good luck up there at Princeton.” “Thank you, sir,” she says. I cannot remember if she is aware of his membership on the Board. A Southern Girl 320 He turns to me as Allie walks ahead. “I’ve had something on my conscience for a few weeks now and I need to clear it.” His infamous halitosis is at full strength but I ignore it. “As you know, your daddy deprived me of one of life’s pleasures when he defeated me for the presidency of the St. Simeon.” I am about to respond but he charges on. “What you may not know is that I lost a brother in Korea. 1952. So you see, your pitch to the Board opened a couple of old wounds for me.” He pauses and glares directly at me. “Just to make it official, I voted against that young lady back then. I’m ashamed to admit it now, but it’s true and I wanted you to hear it from me. I apologize.” “I accept your apology, for myself and for her.” “Good. Maybe for your daddy too if it’s not asking too much. Those fool friends of mine in St. Simeon nominated me and I couldn’t back down. I knew I’d lose but when it happened I got my feelings hurt. I wanted to resign but my wife talked me out of it. Anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t wake up in time to tell him to his face. And I’m sorry I took it out on you and your daughter.” “He’d understand,” I assure him. “And as for Allie, you may get a chance to redeem yourself shortly. Keep your powder dry, as they say.” “I’ll do that.” I run by the office, then home. Allie has invited Christopher over, Adelle is there, and Steven arrives just after I do. In no time, Adelle has whipped up an impromptu lunch from what I thought was an empty refrigerator. She’s standing at the counter when I enter the kitchen. “Thanks for handling things,” I say. “You’re good at this.” She smiles and nods acknowledgment. “I saw you and Dr. Francis chatting at church.” “The strangest conversation. He fessed up to voting against Allie and wants to bury the hatchet. I had no idea he lost a brother in Korea. Ouch.” “Can you beat that?” she says. “I nearly passed out. If Dad wasn’t...