annoyingly cool and comfortable in a loose-fitting white shirt and off-white pants, supervised and translated.
'Oh, God, I'm not sure I want to do this,' Eileen said, ripping her velvet headpiece off.
'Well, let's not spoil the show,' I said, rescuing the headpiece before she could ruin it and catching her hands to keep her from removing her gown. I glanced at a bedside alarm clock: one-forty-five on the dot. 'After it's all over, if you decide it's been a mistake, we can get it annulled and send back the presents. Right now we need to get downstairs and into position.'
'How can you be so calm about this when I may be making the biggest mistake of my life!'
I wanted to say, 'Because it's your life, not mine,' but I didn't think it would go over that well. Eileen went on in much the same vein for the rest of the time it took to replace her headpiece and put the finishing touches to her outfit. Mrs. Tranh and the ladies seemed to grasp what was going on, despite the language barrier, and made sympathetic noises while ruthlessly forcing her into the remaining bits of clothing. Always nice to see real professionals in action.
Ten minutes to go. We dragged Eileen, still babbling, downstairs and out the side door to where we had curtained off a makeshift foyer with a moss-green velvet curtain. I peeped out through a small tear in the fabric and saw that the only empty spots on the lawn appeared to be the places where the guests had rearranged the folding chairs to avoid unusually large mud puddles. I tried to tune out the chaos around me, including the seamstress trying to make my damp puffed sleeves look a little less limp. I concentrated on keeping Eileen calm and recognizing our cue. Which wasn't as easy as it usually was in weddings. Nothing ordinary like 'Here Comes the Bride' would do for Eileen, of course. She'd chosen a stately pavane to accompany our muddy procession down the makeshift aisle. Unfortunately, she was the only one who knew it well enough to tell when the musicians began playing it. Every time they started a new piece of music, at least one bridesmaid would look panicked and hiss, 'Isn't that it?' It all sounded twittery and slightly flat to me, and I was as clueless as the rest of them, but I began calmly asking Eileen the name of each tune. Having to search her memory and come up with a name seemed to bring her temporarily back to sanity. We had been through 'Pastime with Good Company,' 'La Mourisque,' 'Jouyssance Vous Donneray,' and a lute solo of 'My Lady Carey's Dompe' when finally she replied 'Oh, that's Le Bon Vouloir!' She looked panic-stricken. Must be our cue.
'I'll get Eric and Caitlin going.' I grabbed Eric with my left hand and Caitlin with my right.
'Slow and steady,' I stage-whispered, 'just like we rehearsed it.'
Caitlin looked excited but not nervous. Good. Eric looked bored and only marginally cooperative.
'Roller coasters,' I hissed at him. He assumed a look of pained innocence and exaggerated cooperativeness. I mentally crossed my fingers and gave both kids a gentle shove.
I peeked as they slipped through the curtains and set out down the makeshift aisle. They were more or less in time with the music, and I could hear oohs and aahs and exclamations of 'Oh, aren't they precious?' Father Pete appeared behind the altar, beaming with enthusiasm. I turned to check that the first pair of bridesmaids were ready. I was beginning to relax when I heard the first titters. I whirled back to my peephole. At first I couldn't see anything wrong. Eric and Caitlin were doing splendidly. Then I realized that Duck had escaped from her cage somehow, and was waddling sedately down the aisle behind Eric.
'Oh, God,' I moaned, turning away from my peephole. Michael took my place.
'At least she's in step with the music,' he remarked. I reclaimed my peephole and saw that Eric and Caitlin had reached the altar.
'First pair, on three,' I hissed. 'One, two, three.'
I marshaled the other two bridesmaids out and took my bouquet. Mr. Donleavy was being buttoned into his robe. Eileen looked shell-shocked.
'Send her out in another--' I began. 'I know, I know,' Michael said. 'I'm a showbiz veteran, remember? Go!'
I stepped out on cue and marched down the aisle, head high, shoulders squared, trying hard to ignore the little trickles of sweat running down my neck, back, and legs.
Eileen looked radiant as she walked down the aisle. At least I hoped it was radiant. It could very easily have been early warning signs of heat stroke. But when I saw the looks on her face and Steven's as she reached the altar, I suddenly felt, at least for the moment, that all was right with the world and everything I'd gone through all summer was infinitely worthwhile. I stood there for a few minutes, beaming sappily as they began taking their vows, until I caught a glimpse of Barry, beaming just as sappily at me. I came down to earth with a thud.
Fortunately, just then something happened to distract me from my sudden, almost irresistible urge to throw something at Barry. Duck, who had been sitting sedately at Eric's feet, suddenly rose and began walking toward the center of the aisle, quacking loudly. When she reached the absolute center of Eileen's train, she sat down and continued to look around and emit an occasional quack. I debated whether to leave her alone or not, and decided I'd better get her off the train before she laid an egg or answered any other calls of nature. In as dignified manner as possible, I tucked my flowers under one arm, walked out, picked Duck up, and returned to my place. There were titters from the audience, and Father Pete was overcome with a fit of coughing. Duck seemed to calm down after that, but I held her bill closed for the rest of the ceremony, just in case.
The minister pronounced Steven and Eileen husband and wife, and we began exiting to the triumphant strains of a royal fanfare. When Barry tried to take my arm, I handed him Duck instead. Duck didn't appear to like it any more than he did.
We marched into the side yard and formed a receiving line. Although they could just as easily have circumnavigated the house, most of the guests played by the rules and ran the gauntlet before going to the backyard for champagne and hors d'oeuvres. Unfortunately, this kept us standing around for rather a long time under the inadequate shade of a flower-trimmed bower. I found myself silently cheering whenever someone sneaked out of the line.
The Renaissance banquet, once we finally got to sit down for it, was much admired, especially the spit- roasted pigs. Eileen did manage to set her veil on fire with one of the votive candles decorating the head table, but Steven put it out immediately with a tankard of mead. Only a few of the die-hards joined in the period dancing, but the tumblers, jugglers, and acrobats were a great hit.
I was increasingly glad that I had talked Eileen and Steven out of some of their more bizarre ideas of Renaissance authenticity. The dancing bear, for instance, would have been a bit too much. Although I wasn't entirely sure that the substitute was much of an improvement--Cousin Horace, risking heat stroke in his moth- eaten gorilla suit, which he'd ineptly altered in the vague hope of making it look bearlike. Ah, well. Horace had fun, anyway. After dinner, the rest of the program was largely the usual agenda, in costume. There was much to be said for the usual agenda. The guests knew it, and could carry on without a lot of instructions. Already guests were beginning to coagulate for the bouquet and garter throwing. Then we would have changing into going away clothes and pelting the departing van with organic birdseed. Followed by the utter collapse of the maid of honor. My responsibilities for the day would be over and I could swill down a couple more glasses of champagne. Maybe a couple of bottles.
Eileen had chosen to throw her bouquet from the Donleavys front stoop, which was gussied up to look like yet another bower. All the unmarried women were being chivvied into a semicircle at the base of the stoop. I took a safe place at the outskirts, hoping the lucky recipient of the bouquet would be a perfect stranger with no reason even to invite me to her wedding, much less recruit me as a participant.
Eileen teased the crowd with a few fake throws. 'Come on, Meg,' someone behind me said, 'you'll never catch it like that.'
I was turning to explain that catching it was the last thing on my mind, when something struck me violently on the side of the head. I was actually somewhat stunned for a few seconds, and then people began hugging me and clapping me on the back, and I realized that without even trying I had caught the bouquet. In my hair.
In fact, the thing had become inextricably tangled with my hair and the intricate floral headpiece that Mrs. Tranh and the ladies had anchored in place with about a million hairpins. Everyone seemed to find this hilarious except me; I had to hold onto the damned thing tightly to keep my hair from being torn out by the roots. Steven headed up to the stoop to remove the garter from Eileen's leg and fling it to the crowd. I was not about to sit still for having the garter put on my leg with a basketball-sized shrub stuck to my head. I fled inside to untangle myself. They would just have to wait till I was finished; if they got impatient, someone could come and help me,
