Morning Glory

He parked the car and reached for Donald Wade. 'Come on, kemo sabe, I’ll show you a five-and-dime.'

Inside, they walked the aisles on creaking wood floors between six rows of pure enchantment. Donald Wade and Thomas pointed at everything and squirmed to get down and touch-toy cars and trucks and tractors made of brightly painted metal; rubber balls of gay reds and yellows; marbles in woven sacks; bubble gum and candy; six- shooters and holsters and cowboy hats like Will’s.

'I want one!' Donald Wade demanded. 'I want a hat like Will’s!'

'Hat,' parroted Thomas.

'Maybe next time,' Will replied, his heart breaking. At that moment the only thing he wanted worse than a ring for Eleanor was enough cash to buy two black cardboard cowboy hats.

They came to the costume jewelry and stopped. The display was dusty, spread on rose taffeta between glass dividers. There were identification bracelets; baby necklaces shaped like tiny gold crosses; little girls’birthday sets- rings, bracelets and necklaces-all dipped in gold paint, set with brightly colored glass gems; women’s earrings of assorted shapes and colors; and beside them, on a blue velvet card, a sign that said, 'Friendship Rings-19?.'

Will studied the cheap things, stung at having to offer his bride a wedding band that would surely turn her finger green before a week was up. But he had little choice. He set Donald Wade down. 'You take Thomas’s hand and don’t let him touch anything, all right?'

The boys headed back toward the toys, leaving Will and Eleanor standing self-consciously side by side. He slipped his hands into his hind pockets and stared at the fake-silver rings with their machine-stamped lattice designs covered with crudely formed roses. He reached for one, plucked it from the card and studied it glumly.

'I never cared much before whether I had money or not, but today I wish my name was Rockerfeller.'

'I’m glad it ain’t, ’cause then I wouldn’t be marrying you.'

He looked down into her eyes-eyes as green as the fake peridots in the August birth rings-and it struck Will that she was one of the kindest persons he’d ever met. How like her to try to make him feel good at a moment like this. 'It’ll probably turn your finger green.'

'It don’t matter, Will,' she said softly. 'I shouldn’t have offered to use my old one again. It was thoughtless of me.'

'I’d give you gold if I could, Eleanor. I want you to know that.'

'Oh, Will…' She reached out and covered his hand consolingly as he went on.

'And I’d take them two to the movies, and afterwards maybe buy ’em an ice cream cone at the drugstore, or popcorn at that popcorn wagon like they begged for.'

'I brought the egg and cream money, Will. We could still do that.'

His gaze shifted to the ring. 'I’m the one that should be payin’, don’t you see?'

She released his hand and took the ring to try it on. 'You got to learn not to be so proud, Will. Let’s see if it fits.' The ring was too big, so she chose another. The second one fit and she spread her fingers in the air before them, as proud as if she wore a glittering diamond.

'Looks fine, doesn’t it?' She wiggled the ring finger. 'And I do like roses.'

'It looks cheap.'

'Don’t you dare say that about my weddin’ ring, Will Parker,' she scolded him with mock haughtiness, slipping it off and depositing it in his palm. 'The sooner you pay for it the sooner we can get on down to the courthouse and speak our words.'

She turned away blithely, but he caught her arm and spun her around.

'Eleanor, I…' He looked into her eyes and didn’t know what to say. A lump of appreciation clotted his throat. The value of the ring honestly made no difference to her.

She cocked her head. 'What?'

'You never complain about anything, do you?'

It was subtle praise, but no poetry could have pleased her more.

'We got a lot to be thankful for, Will Parker. Come on.' Her smile flashed as she grabbed his hand. 'Let’s go get married.'

They found the Gordon County courthouse with no trouble, a red brick Victorian edifice on a crest of land framed by sidewalks, green grass and azalea bushes. Will carried Donald Wade; Eleanor, Thomas as they ascended a bank of steps and crossed the lawn, gazing up at the rounded turret on the right, and on the left, a square cenotaph to General Charles Haney Nelson. It sat sturdily on thick brick arches culminating in a pointed clock tower that overlooked the chimneyed roof. The mist was cold on their uplifted faces, then disappeared as they mounted the second set of steps beneath the arches and entered a marble-floored hall that smelled of cigar smoke.

'This way.' Eleanor’s voice rang through the empty hall, though she spoke quietly. Turning right, she led Will to the office of the Ordinary of the Court.

Inside, at an oak desk beyond a spindled rail, a thin, middle-aged woman-her nameplate read Reatha Stickner- stopped typing and tipped her head down to peer over rimless octagonal spectacles.

'May I help you?' She had a cheerless, authoritarian voice. It echoed in the barren, curtainless room.

'Yes, ma’am,' Will replied, stopping just inside the door. 'We’d like to get a marriage license.'

The woman’s sharp gaze brushed from Donald Wade to Baby Thomas to Eleanor’s stomach, then back to Will. He firmly grasped Eleanor’s elbow and ushered her toward the breast-high counter. The woman pushed away from her desk and shuffled toward them with an extreme limp that dipped one shoulder and left one foot dragging. They met on opposite sides of the barrier and Reatha Stickner fished inside the neck of her dress to pull up an underwear strap that had slipped down while she walked.

'Are you residents of Georgia?' From beneath the counter she drew a black-bound book the size of a tea tray and clapped it down between them without glancing up again.

'I am,' Eleanor spoke up. 'I live in Whitney.'

'Whitney. And how long have you lived there?' The black cover slapped open, revealing forms separated by carbons.

'All my life.'

'I’ll need proof of residency.'

Will thought, Oh no, not again.But Eleanor surprised him by depositing Thomas on the high counter and producing a folded paper from her coat pocket. 'Got my first wedding license here. You gave it to me, so it should be okay.'

The woman examined Eleanor minutely, without a change of expression-pursed lips, haughty eyebrows-then turned her attention to the license while Thomas reached for a stamp pad. Eleanor grabbed his hand and held it while he objected vocally and struggled to pull it free.

'Don’t touch,' she whispered, but of course, he grew stubborn and insisted, louder than before. Will set Donald Wade on the floor and plucked the baby off the counter to hold him. Donald Wade immediately tried to climb Will’s leg, complaining, 'I can’t see. Lift me up.' The boy’s fingertips curled over the countertop and he tried to climb it with his feet. Will gave him a yank to straighten him up. 'Be good,' he ordered, bending momentarily. Donald Wade wilted against the counter, pouting.

Reatha Stickner cast a disapproving glance at the faces visible above her counter, then moved away to fetch a pen and inkholder. She had to adjust her strap again before writing in the wide book.

'Eleanor Dinsmore-middle name?'

'I ain’t got one.'

Though the clerk refused to lift her eyes, the pen twitched in her fingers. 'Same address?'

'Yes…' Imitating Will, Eleanor added belatedly, '… ma’am.'

'And are there any encumbrances against you getting married?'

Eleanor fixed a blank look on the woman’s spectacles. Reatha Stickner glanced up impatiently and said, 'Well?'

Eleanor turned to Will for help.

Will felt his hackles rise and spoke sharply. 'She’s not married and she’s not a Nazi. What other encumbrances are there?'

Everything was silent for three seconds while the stern-faced clerk fixed Will with a disapproving glare. Finally, she cleared her throat, dipped her pen and loftily returned her attention to the application blank. 'And how about you? Are you a Nazi?' It was asked without a hint of humor while she gave the