But I still felt a nagging unease. Perhaps it was the assembled relatives. They were all too well behaved. Surely someone was contemplating something really stupid that we wouldn't find out about until the worst possible moment tomorrow. Like the night before Pam's wedding, when some of the cousins had gotten Mal, the groom, completely plastered and put him on a plane to Los Angeles with a one-way ticket and no wallet. I was keeping a close eye on the cousins in question tonight, despite my sneaking feeling that it wouldn't really be a bad thing if something delayed this wedding. Or called it off entirely. If I saw the practical jokers leading Jake off toward the airport, would I really want to interfere?
But no one was doing anything suspicious. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time.
Except, possibly, Jake. I saw him, a little later, hovering near the edge of the group around Mother, looking rather forlorn.
'I could almost feel sorry for Jake,' I said. 'It is supposed to be his wedding, too.'
'Yes,' Michael said. 'Which reminds me: wasn't the party actually supposed to follow the rehearsal?'
'Oh, damn! I can't believe we forgot the rehearsal!'
'We could go and remind them.'
'No,' I said, shaking my head. 'It's nearly ten already. Everyone needs their rest. Mother, especially. And I can't go to bed until we chase everyone out and put out all the candles and Christmas tree lights. Mother and Jake have both done this before; they'll manage.'
'Famous last words,' Michael said. 'Oh, don't be silly. After all, it's supposed to be a short, simple ceremony. What could possibly go wrong?'
'Well, now we know what you've forgotten.' 'I hope so,' I said. 'I really hope so.'
Saturday, July 30.
Mother's wedding day.
I woke early, and crossed the last block off my calendar. All I had to do was get through today and I was home free.
I fixed Mother some breakfast. She picked at her food. She seemed anxious. She didn't want to talk. We carried out last-minute tasks in an awkward silence.
Caterers arrived. Why we'd bothered, I don't know; every neighbor and relative invited had insisted on bringing his or her specialty. The men came to set up the tents in case of rain. The cousins who would be playing their musical instruments arrived early and began a much-needed rehearsal. The florist fussed about the effect the heat was having on the flowers, which was silly; it was no hotter than either of our previous weddings. By now we'd all forgotten what unwilted flowers looked like. The peacocks were now definitely molting and looked thoroughly disgusting, so we lured them down to Michael's mother's yard for the day. Cousin Frank, who had behaved impeccably throughout the chaos of Samantha's wedding, was hauled back from Richmond for a return engagement.
Through all this, Mother remained preoccupied. She failed to respond to any of my conversational gambits. If she was having second thoughts, she was keeping them to herself and not letting them slow the momentum of the day.
'What's wrong?' Michael asked when he arrived in the early afternoon.
'I have this strange feeling Mother's having second thoughts.'
'Is that so bad?'
'No, except that it's a little inconveniently late. I mean, I really wish people would think things like weddings through before they go and ask their friends and relations to spend literally months of their lives working like dogs to arrange ceremonies they have no intention of going through with.'
'Or following through with, in Samantha's case,' Michael said.
'Precisely,' I said, testily. 'If you're not entirely sure you want to spend the rest of your life with someone, it seems to me that the last thing you'd want to do is to set in motion a very lengthy, time-consuming, expensive, and highly public process designed to lead inexorably to just that.'
Michael nodded sympathetically and went to supervise the arrival of the Be-Stitched ladies, along with (in addition to our dresses) their husbands, children, and extended families. At the last minute, Mother had invited them en masse. Why not? It wasn't as if we'd really notice a hundred or so extra people.
Mother finally allowed me to see my dress, although she did make me put a paper bag over my head until the ladies put it on me. I held my breath as she reached to whisk off the bag. I stared into the mirror, astonished.
'Do you like it, dear?' Mother asked, a little nervously.
'It's beautiful,' I said. And, for a wonder, it really was. The rose color went perfectly with my complexion and the cut made the best of my figure. Mother looked more cheerful as she went off to put on her own dress.
'I told you so,' Michael said. 'You look really great; I knew you would.'
'This almost makes up for the velvet and the hoops,' I said.
Relatives began arriving in the middle of the afternoon, well aware that the parking would run out long before five. I'd arranged to have two vans available so Rob and Mal could run a shuttle service for guests who'd had to park half a mile away. The sheriff had borrowed some deputies from two neighboring counties to carry out the regular patrol work for the day so his entire staff could direct traffic and then attend the wedding.
Jake looked positively cheerful. I almost didn't recognize him. Perhaps he really was deeply in love with Mother and finally felt confident that the wedding was really going to happen. Or perhaps he was merely looking forward to getting the ceremony over withand leaving town. He kept looking in his inside jacket pocket and patting an airline ticket folder with obvious satisfaction.
Dad, on the other hand, was wandering about looking forlorn, with periodic intervals during which he had obviously told himself to keep his chin up. I found myself siding with Dad. If one of the weddings had to misfire, couldn't it have been this one? I really didn't want this one to come off.
And so, of course, before you knew it we were marching down the aisle--Pam and I, followed by Mother on Rob's arm. At the last minute, Mother had decided to have Rob give her away.
'To take his mind off everything, poor dear,' she said.
I'd have thought that the best thing to take his mind off the everything in question was to have nothing whatsoever to do with weddings. I hoped he was really as cheerful as he seemed. I hoped Dad wouldn't be too depressed. I hoped Mother really knew what she was doing. If she didn't, it was a little late to do anything; the wedding was underway.
'If anyone here can show just cause why this man and woman should not be joined in holy matrimony,' Cousin Frank intoned, 'Let him speak now or forever hold his peace.'
Seemingly expecting no reply, he was drawing breath to continue when Dad spoke up.
'Actually, I have one small objection,' he said. The wedding party turned around to look at him, and in the back of the crowd you could see people craning for a better view and shushing each other. After a suitably suspenseful pause, Dad continued.
'You see, I have a pretty good idea that old Jake here bumped off his first wife, and I really don't want to see him do the same to my Margaret.'
A hush fell over the entire crowd. I looked at Dad, who was beaming seraphically at us. At Mother, who was gazing from him to Jake with rapt attention. At Jake, who had turned deathly pale. At the miles of Spanish moss festooning every tree in the yard. At the masses of out-of-season flowers, the regiment of caterers gamboling over the lawn, at the bloody $1200 circus tent on top of which, despite all our diversionary tactics, the least decorative of the newly acquired Langslow family peacock flock was now roosting.
'Honestly, Dad,' I said, 'couldn't you have brought this up a bit sooner?'
Smothered titters began spreading through the audience, and Dad brought down the house by replying, 'But Meg, I've always wanted to see someone do that in real life.'
'I have no idea what he's talking about,' Jake said. 'The man must be crazy.'
'I think an analysis of your late wife's ashes might prove very interesting, don't you?' Dad said. Had the
