“Miss Strayer, I came early hoping I’d be able to introduce myself.” I was getting used to being called “Miss Strayer” and wasn’t surprised with myself for turning in the direction of the voice. Before me stood an athletic man. He had light blonde hair, grey eyes, and he stood eye-to-eye with Brent, so he had to be at least 6’ 3.” It looked like he was wearing a nervous smile. “I’m Chris Carlton. It’s an honor to meet you.”
I stood dumfounded at this Adonis of a man. I held out my hand in an effort to shake his. He took my palm in his hand, then bowed down to kiss my hand. It was a gesture I’d only seen done in old time movies. Every time I’d seen someone do that, I wanted to gag, so I was beyond surprised when the gesture created instant butterflies in my stomach. Chris held my hand in both of his as he straightened up, “Are you enjoying South Carolina?”
His eyes were mesmerizing, absolutely stunning. I stammered a little, “I’m . . . I like it here, but I’m still not used to the heat.”
“Would you like me to walk you to the house so you can cool off a bit before the ceremony?” He spoke with absolutely perfect English, no accent of any kind. This was odd because everyone other than the Centaurs I had met seemed to speak with the southern drawl I’d expected in this area of the country.
I caught Brent out of the corner of my eye, grinning from one ear to the other, and I couldn’t help but shoot him a glare. I turned my attention to Chris, “Uh, sure.”
We were out of ear-shot from Brent when Chris said, “So, am I the first?”
“The first what?”
“The first to make your acquaintance?”
“Yes, up until now I’ve just been getting to know my family. I haven’t met anyone since I’ve been here.”
We approached the front door, and he nearly shouted, “Excellent! I live on Daniel Island, and I’m finishing up my residency as a family practitioner.”
He couldn’t possibly be giving me his “husband” resume, could he? Was Chris for real? “That’s thoughtful of you to tell me about yourself, but I’m still a little new to the . . . you know.” I didn’t know how to say I wasn’t interested without coming right out and saying it. “Never mind, would you like to come in and cool off, too?” Chris stepped in front of me and reached for the door knob so he could open the door for me. Two points for the tall sexy gentleman with great manners.
As the door opened, Gretchen was in the hallway with a huge smirk that matched the one Brent was wearing in the back yard. Dammit! I needed to keep my thoughts to myself. Gretchen didn’t miss a beat. She held out her hand and said, “Hello, Chris, we’re so happy you could come today. I spoke with your mother earlier. Glad to hear things are going so well with your practice.” Gretchen directed her attention to me, “Camille, did Chris tell you he was a doctor?”
Flushed with embarrassment still, “Yes, he mentioned it.”
Chris was gushing with pride when he said, “I’ll be joining my family’s practice in town very soon.”
The embarrassment should have been overwhelming. The idea that a woman could simply pick a suitor and good-looking, educated men would be thrilled to be chosen seemed bizarre. But as I looked at Gretchen and Chris, sure enough—this was exactly what was going on.
Tradition or not, Chris was attractive, had a good job, and seemed to be giving me vibes that he was interested. It wouldn’t hurt to get to know him – though I wasn’t at all interested in trading in my single status. I motioned for him to step into the family room where the couches were plush, and it seemed a nice place to chat, hopefully away from prying ears. “So, what do you like to do when you aren’t working?”
Chris cocked his head to the side momentarily, “I don’t understand the question.”
“For fun. What do you like to do with your free time?”
“I volunteer at a clinic downtown a few hours per week. Each year I volunteer for two weeks for an organization called Doctors without Borders. I read in my spare time.”
Wonderful, a workaholic. “So, no hobbies, like golf or tennis?”
“I’ve done both. If you enjoy golf and tennis, I’d be happy to take you sometime.”
“No. I mean, I don’t like either. I just wondered if there was something you enjoyed doing outside of your profession.”
“I would be willing to give anything a whirl you felt would be a good use of my time.”
That was by far the creepiest answer he could have given me—like a Stepford Wife in reverse. I really took him in for the first time since his arrival: his posture, his eye contact, his non-verbal language all looked—almost desperate. After replaying the conversation with Brent earlier, one question came to mind. “Chris, how old are you?”
Chris gave me a forced smile, as if his answer were one of shame, “Twenty-nine.”
There it was: he was trying hard to make a good impression. If what Brent told me was the truth, and I had no reason to doubt that it was, I was his last chance.
Chris held the unnatural smile when he asked, “You are new to our kind, is that right?”
“That’s a great way to put it. Uh, yes . . . I’ve only been here a few days.”
“My mother told me that your mother never told you about your ancestry. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
Chris let out a long breath, “This must all be a bit much to take in.”
“That’s a colossal understatement, Chris.”
“Look, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t be in a hurry to find a husband. You have to make peace with who you are before you can decide whom you want as your partner. I won’t pressure you. But don’t interpret my lack of pressure as lack of interest. I am my parent’s only son. I. . . I would love for you to consider me.”
“Uh . . . thanks, I think.”
I thought his sales pitch was over and I could relax, until he said, “The truth is, I think you’re beautiful. I’ve known your brothers since I was a kid and would love to be a part of your family. I believe your family would be equally pleased if you joined mine. But it would be a mistake to try to convince you I am the best choice for you before you are ready to accept who you are.”
“I know who I am.”
“Do you?”
“Yes, and it has nothing to do with being a . . . Centaur.” I caught myself – it was the first time I had acknowledged it, out loud, outside my family.
“That’s where you’re mistaken, Camille. It has everything to do with being one of us.”
“What if I just want to be normal?”
“Normal isn’t an option when you’re extraordinary.” Chris put his hand on mine and gave it a gentle squeeze, “You are extraordinary, Camille. Choose wisely.”
Chris stood up, bowed his head slightly in my direction, and left me reeling on the chair as he left. A handsome, thoughtful, intelligent, eligible, doctor—no less, just told me I was extraordinary and wanted me to choose him. Five days ago if the same thing had happened, I would have followed him around like a love sick puppy—but it wasn’t five days ago. It wasn’t left to fate anymore. Finding a husband had never been on the top of my priorities. Sure, growing up, I had always wondered why my mom never found a husband when my friends’ mothers rarely seemed to settle on one. Meeting Chris just made me want to ask Gretchen more questions.
I could hear Gretchen’s voice in the hallway, “Yes, she’s here. Let me see if she has a minute.” I was still teetering with reality when she appeared in the doorway. “Camille, you’ve only got an hour before the ceremony. Do you have time to meet someone before you get ready?”
“I guess so. Who is it?”
She turned away and used her hand to motion someone from the foyer down to the family room. When he appeared in the doorway, I stood to greet him. Gretchen said, “Gus, this is our daughter, Camille.”
The fact that Gretchen had used the words, “our daughter,” did not go unnoticed by me. The words startled me a little, more than I had expected them to. I was a little unsteady as I looked up at the man towering
over Gretchen. I held out my hand, and he took mine in his hand and shook it vigorously. Gretchen excused herself, and I stood with Gus for an uncomfortable moment.
“I know you don’t have much time. I just wanted to meet you. I’m Gus Hinman.”
My years of etiquette were lost on this hulk of a man as I stared at his six-foot-five frame, dark hair, dark eyes and brutish body. He reminded me of a cage fighter I had known back home. “It’s nice to meet you, Gus. I’m Camille.”
“I passed Chris on the way out. I can see this may be my only opportunity with you today, and I just wanted to say hi.”
I suddenly felt like I had some sort of “USDA Prime Cut” sticker pasted to me. “Well, I’m glad you . . . stopped . . . I mean. . .” Remembering my manners, “Would you like to sit down?”
“I don’t want to make you late, but I would like a chance to talk to you later. I play for the Panthers and came back to town for my sister’s wedding to your brother. I live a few hours from here in Charlotte but am home during the off-season.”
“You’re in the NFL?” I could see from his eyes that this was a great source of pride for him, and I’d be lying if I didn’t confess I was a little impressed myself.
“Yeah, receiver. I’m not in the area much this time of year, but will be here all week if you’ve got some free time.”
“Uh, sure, okay.”
Gretchen popped back in the doorway, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Camille needs to get ready or she’ll be late.” Gretchen ushered Gus to the doorway as I bounded up the steps to my room. As I reached for the door knob, I glanced out the window. Everyone arriving, including the two handsome guys I’d just talked to, were seriously dressed to impress. The first pangs of fear grabbed me when I realized I didn’t have anything to wear, at least nothing that wouldn’t clue everyone in as to how much I really didn’t belong here.
As I stared at the few changes of clothes I’d brought with me and the items I’d bought shopping with Gretchen, I decided on a denim skirt, flats and a nice blouse I’d tucked in my bag. My nerves took hold. I’d never been one to want to stand out. My lack of a wardrobe would definitely make me stick out like a sore thumb. I couldn’t not attend; I took a seat on the bed, chastising myself for not thinking of this on one of the shopping trips with Gretchen or even earlier this morning. I heard a quiet knock on my door.
Great. Now what? It’s bad enough someone must have tweeted that there was a single female Centaur at the wedding tonight. I couldn’t imagine what would happen next. Frustrated, I called, “Come in.”
Gretchen stepped inside my room, “Camille, I hope you don’t mind, but I thought you might be looking for something different to wear. I bought this a few months ago—I didn’t know why at the time.” She smiled warmly at me, “I believe I bought it for you.”
The hair stood at attention on my arms, “You bought it a few months ago?” I looked at the silver and sequined gown she held in her arms, not knowing what to say.
Gretchen sat on my bed beside me, “Many of our kind have premonitions, visions. We can see something significant but aren’t able to put it into context at the time. I was out shopping and found this dress. It wasn’t my size and it wasn’t my taste, but something told me I needed to purchase it. I believe I must have bought it for you. Do you like it?”
It was one of the most beautiful dresses I’d ever seen. Having grown up near Hollywood, I had seen my share of fabulous designer gowns but had never seen one like this one. It was strapless, made of brushed silk, with a thin line of sequins sewn across the bodice, and a sheer fabric flowing from the waist to the floor.
There were no words to describe my feelings for her in that second. How had she been shopping and found a dress for me before she knew me? I knew I had to be a source of pain that she kept masked from me – the illegitimate daughter of her husband. I felt my eyes welling up, wishing I could say to her all the things that my heart felt in that moment.
She must have felt my thoughts because she laid the dress to her other side and grabbed me in a hearty embrace. “You may not be my biological daughter, but you are the daughter I’ve always wanted.” That was it. The misting I was trying to keep under control let loose as tears streamed down my cheeks. I tried to casually wipe them free, but more followed.
In that moment I wished to be a part of the family, not just a sister or a long lost daughter, but a full-fledged member of the Strayer family. Guilt crept into me. My own mother created such a deep hole in my heart when she died; I worried that I’d never find anything or anyone to fill the gap. Less than a month later, I sat in a mansion wishing I had grown up here. The guilt started growing larger as I wondered if this love that I was developing for my new found family somehow minimized my feelings for the center of my universe who had just died.
I released Gretchen, hoping she would ignore the tears, but she didn’t. “Loving us doesn’t diminish the love that you will always have for your mother. That’s the wonderful thing about family: the bigger it is, the larger your heart grows.”
I stiffened at her words. I kept forgetting that she could read my mind.
Gretchen’s smile never wavered, but she answered my unspoken question, “Only if you do not shield your thoughts – we’ll work on that tomorrow.”
My body went from stiff to rigid. I felt my eyes widen and my voice refused to cooperate. Gretchen’s expression took on a more serious look, “Tomorrow we will continue working on your skills. It won’t come as such a surprise when your skills are sharper and you are able to do the same. But for tonight, try not to think about it. You have many young men who anxiously wish to meet you.”
I wiped the last couple rogue tears away from my cheeks. As Gretchen stood up, she leaned over and pressed her lips to my forehead. I knew she meant it as a maternal symbol, but as she stood, I felt her body go rigid, a look shot across her face – panic. She was facing a wall so I couldn’t imagine what she would have seen to make her eyes so wide, her voice so urgent, “Camille, dress quickly. Don’t go outside alone. I need to find your father.” She rushed out of my room.
Don’t go outside alone. Had she seen something? Did she know something bad was about to happen? I did as I was told, but I felt my stomach cinching itself up into a tight knot.
Chapter 10
Camille Benning – Charleston, SC