“Did you eat anything today?” asked Aunt Zell.
I shook my head. “I couldn’t.”
“Yes you can. You girls get started. I’ll be right back.”
“Let her feed you,” Portland advised. “You really do need something in your stomach besides butterflies, and that drink won’t hurt either.”
We went up to my old bedroom. I helped her on with her red velvet dress first. We had decided against the white fur trim after all. It had a high empire waistline that flattered her fuller breasts and minimized her bulging abdomen. The color was wonderful with her dark hair and eyes and her skin had that creamy glow that only pregnant women seem to get.
Aunt Zell returned with a loaded tray—peanut butter on plain saltines, with a shot of bourbon for us and a glass of diet cola for Portland.
“You look beautiful, honey,” she told Portland. Then, casting a practiced eye at her midsection, she said, “How do you feel?”
“Wonderful! I finished putting everything back in the baby’s room yesterday, then did two loads of laundry, and yet I don’t feel one bit tired today.”
“You’ve lightened,” Aunt Zell said sagely. “Won’t be long now. Today or tomorrow at the latest.”
“Huh?” we said.
“The baby’s dropped. Took some pressure off your lungs. No wonder you feel so good. Well, let’s just hope you don’t drop it the rest of the way when you’re walking up the aisle.”
Then it was time for my dress, a sheath of reembroidered silk brocade the color of pale champagne. The top did offer the option of spaghetti straps, but after trying it both ways we decided to go strapless for the ceremony.
“I’ll help you hook them on when we get to the reception,” said Portland.
A fitted long-sleeved jacket with a cropped waist went with the dress. I had planned to wear my red velvet cloak to the church if the weather had been cold or rainy, but with the sun shining and the air mild, I put on the jacket instead and fastened the two buttons.
Gold drop earrings that had belonged to my mother for the something old, Portland had lent me the small gold sunburst pinned to my jacket collar, and for blue, of course, the bracelet that Mother had sent to me down the years.
“I wrapped the sixpence in a little cotton and stuffed it way in the tip of your shoe,” said Aunt Zell, handing me a satin pump that had been dyed to match my dress. “See how it feels.”
I slipped it on and couldn’t feel a thing.
I had done my makeup before I left home and Portland gave my hair a final spritz of spray.
“Oh, my!” said Aunt Zell, and her eyes were suspiciously bright.
“Hey, no crying till we get to the church,” I told her.
Portland gave an unladylike sniffle and I handed her a tissue, too.
“Y’all about ready?” Uncle Ash called up the stairs.
I took a deep breath and looked at myself in the mirror. I seemed to be moving in a golden haze.
“Ready,” I said.
As the opening notes of the wedding march sounded and Portland took her first step down the aisle, Daddy kissed my cheek. “They always say you take more atter me than your mama, but today, daughter, you look just like her.”
Then we were moving down the aisle ourselves and there was Dwight, looking incredibly handsome in his brown dress uniform. It was only when I got closer that I saw how white he was.
“Dearly beloved,” the Reverend Carlyle Yelvington began solemnly. He paused and smiled broadly at the congregation. “As you know, this ceremony was to have been followed by a reception at the country club. Because of the fire, that has been changed to the Knott family farm. For those of you unfamiliar with the area, there are maps in the vestibule.”
He smiled again, and this time his smile was for Dwight and me as he began to speak those old familiar words. “We are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy matrimony . . .”
I handed my bouquet of yellow roses and baby’s breath to Portland, and after that, everything blurred—the vows, the exchange of rings, even our brief kiss to seal the ceremony felt as if it were happening in alternate universes, as if the ceremony itself were in ultra slow motion while the world and all that was in it swirled around us in high speed.
(“I told you you should have eaten something,” Aunt Zell said, when I tried to describe the feeling afterwards.)
Then suddenly we were out of the church and into cars for the drive back to the farm. It was a ragtag caravan: Rob’s luxurious Cadillac followed Seth and Minnie’s Honda through the shortcuts across the farm so we could get there first and set up a receiving line. Behind us came Daddy’s Chevy pickup, Uncle Ash’s Lincoln, and Dr. Yelvington’s Volvo, with Miss Emily and the children bringing up the rear in Portland and Avery’s SUV.
When we walked into the potato house, I was dumbfounded by its transformation.
“Wow!” said Dwight.
The walls were so thickly lined with young pine trees that it was impossible to see the stud framing. Small clear lights twinkled through the branches. Overhead, more strings of the clear lights had been laid across the rafters, then billowy white cheesecloth had been tacked to the underside and looped and draped so lavishly that the effect was like stars shining through soft white clouds.
A dozen or more round tables, covered in white cloths and centered with pots of poinsettias, circled an area for
