The Blue Bottle Club (36 page)

Suddenly he dropped the mound of clippings, right on the sidewalk, and brushed off his hands. "I'm finished now." He grinned.

"Don't you want to—?"

Rome shrugged. "The weeds will wait," he said as he came toward her. "I'm afraid you won't."

November 3, 1945

The tiny clapboard church was crowded to capacity. White bows adorned the pews, and candles bathed the sanctuary with a holy glow. Bea Whitman sat at the organ, playing and smiling, smiling and playing.

In the small entry way, Ellie adjusted her veil nervously and shifted from one foot to the other.

"Be still, will you?" Tish commanded. "You're going to step on your train."

Ellie fidgeted and grabbed at Tish's arm. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"I can't believe you didn't do it months ago." Catherine's voice behind her made Ellie jump, and she giggled.

"I feel like a schoolgirl. What if I trip and make a fool of myself?"

"Then everybody will get a good laugh out of it," Catherine said in her no-nonsense tone, "and it will be the most memorable wedding in recent history."

"You're a big help." Ellie pretended to be miffed. "Whatever possessed me to make you my matron of honor?"

"Because you adore me, of course," Catherine countered. "Now, remember, by the time you get back from the honeymoon, we should have the expansion done on the cottage. Are you sure you want to live there instead of getting a place of your own?"

Ellie nodded. "Rome and I talked about it, and there's no place we'd rather be. Besides, you need us." She smiled and gave Catherine a kiss on the cheek. Thanks to the woman's boundless generosity, Ellie and Rome would have a real honeymoon, on the beach in Mexico, and when they returned, the little cottage would have undergone a second transformation. "Now don't get too carried away with the cottage, Catherine," Ellie warned sternly. "I know you. If somebody doesn't keep an eye on you, we'll come back to find the Biltmore House in the backyard."

"The processional is beginning." Tish glanced at the clock in the vestibule. "Right on time. Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." Ellie grimaced. "Do I look all right?"

"No, you don't look all right," Catherine answered. "You look beautiful."

"Is Rome here?"

"Rome's been here for hours. I think he arrived at sunrise."

Ellie took a deep breath. "All right. Let's go."

She watched as her two attendants—Tish, the maid of honor, and Catherine, the matron of honor—made their way down the aisle. Craning her neck, she caught a glimpse of Rome, standing beside Reverend Potter at the front of the church. His normally ruddy skin had gone pale, and he licked his lips nervously. He's
terrified,
Ellie thought.
But then, so am
I.

"Scared, honey?"

Ellie turned to see Burgess Goudge, all spiffed up in a gray morning coat and bright red bow tie, ready to walk her down the aisle. Despite her prewedding jitters, she laughed. "A little, Burgess. But I feel better now."

He extended his arm, and they made their grand entrance to the majestic strains of "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee." At the end of the aisle, he kissed her, squeezed her hand, and made a grand sweeping bow before taking his seat in the front pew.

Standing alone in the center of the aisle, Ellie experienced a moment of panic. In a traditional wedding, her father would have been beside her, still holding her elbow, waiting until the minister asked, "Who giveth this woman . . . ?" But Ellie had no father, no one to give her away, and after some discussion, she and Rome had decided simply to eliminate that portion of the service. Still, she felt isolated and exposed, and she desperately wished that Rome would move to her side as he was supposed to do.

Ellie looked up and caught his eye. He had made no move to step forward, but was grinning at her. I
love you
—his lips formed the words silently. Suddenly, Reverend Potter cleared his throat and began: "Dearly beloved . . ."

What was he doing? This wasn't right! The plan was, as soon as Ellie reached the end of the aisle, Rome would come forward and take her hand. But the man hadn't budged, and Ellie wasn't sure what to do next. She wasn't about to get married all by herself.

Then, to her shock, she heard Reverend Potter utter the question that wasn't supposed to be asked: "Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?"

Ellie held her breath, mortified. Well, she should have suspected that something would go awry. Was it an omen, a sign that she had made the wrong decision after all?

Desperately she looked to Rome, who was still grinning at her. And then she heard a shuffling sound behind her, and she turned. All the residents of the James Home were on their feet, along with most of the members of East Asheville Methodist. In unison, they roared out, "We do!"

Tears sprang to Ellie's eyes, and a knot formed in her throat. In an instant, Rome was at her side, cradling her elbow in his hand. He leaned down and whispered, "They love you, Ellie. What a wonderful family you have."

Ellie knew it was true. She glanced around and saw the faces of her family—not blood kin, but people grafted into her life by a divine hand, people with whom she shared a stronger bond than common ancestry could ever create. And then, when she turned and looked into Rome's eyes, she felt a depth of love that shook her to her soul.

Like Job, she had lost everything, only to have it abundantly restored by the hand of a gracious and compassionate God. Although she would probably never understand all the
whys,
she recognized the source and was thankful.

Understanding is irrelevant,
Hazel Dennison had wisely told her.
Only love
matters.

Ellie smiled and took Rome's outstretched hand.

"Do you, Eleanor James, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?" Reverend Potter asked.

Ellie blinked back tears and took a deep breath. "I do," she said. "I most certainly do."

34

MRS.TUCKER

November 25, 1994

I
always thought it was ironic," Ellie concluded as she cleared the dishes from the table. "Jesus' earthly life ended at thirty-three. At thirty-three, I was just beginning mine. A newlywed at that advanced age—can you imagine?"

Brendan twisted her face into a grimace. "I'm thirty-three and not married."

"Forgive me, dear." Ellie resumed her place at the table and patted Brendan's hand. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But times are different now, you know. People wait much longer to marry and have families."

"With the kind of job I have, I'll probably be waiting forever."

Ellie smiled gently. "Is there a special person in your life?"

"Hey, I'm the reporter. I should be asking the questions." Brendan grinned. "Just kidding. There was someone once, a while back. But it didn't work out. Our jobs took us in two different directions. And to tell the truth, I didn't miss him all that much once he was gone."

"And what about your family?"

Brendan paused. She really didn't want to dredge up the details of her past, but if anyone could truly understand, it would probably be Ellie James Tucker. "I have no family," she said after a moment. "My parents died when I was quite young. My grandmother raised me, and now she's gone too. I'm alone."

"Ah." Ellie peered at her with questioning eyes. "But are you, really?"

Brendan frowned and tilted her head. What was the old woman getting at?

"Don't you have someone?" Ellie went on. "Someone who has become family for you, even though you're not actually related?"

To Brendan's surprise, the first name that came to her mind was not Vonnie Howells, who had been her best friend for years, but Dee Lovell. Dee and Addie, Letitia Cameron, and even the old German battle-ax of a nurse, Gertrude Klein. At the Thanksgiving gathering yesterday, Brendan had experienced a sense of belonging unlike anything she had known since her grandmother died. Dee had even referred to the group as "our little family." It was a good feeling, to know you were welcomed and included. Yet Brendan felt herself holding back. She didn't want to become some Tennessee Williams heroine, "always dependent upon the kindness of strangers." She had always been strong and independent, convinced that she didn't need anyone. It was far too frightening to open herself to something else—something that, in the long run, might prove deeply hurtful.

"Family is based on spirit, not on genetics," Ellie was saying. "The people your soul connects with, the people who fit into your heart. That bond can be just as strong as—in some cases, even stronger than—blood."

"And you found your family in Rome Tucker and in the residents of the James Home," Brendan said, steering the conversation back to Ellie.

"I did." Ellie nodded. "It wasn't always easy, you know. We endured a lot together—cancer, stroke, Alzheimer's. They all died, one by one. But for the most part they passed on peacefully, because they knew they were loved. They knew they were not alone."

"And what finally happened with the Eleanor James Home for the Elderly?" Brendan asked.

"Rome and I continued to live in the cottage and gradually took over more and more of the duties of running the home and caring for the residents. For a number of years we had a full house, with new people coming all the time. When Catherine died, she left the entire operation to us, knowing that we would be true to the calling. Eventually other care facilities began to spring up, however, and our numbers dwindled, so we finally sold the house and moved here."

"But why Atlanta? Why leave your roots?"

"Remember Matthew Potter, the pastor at East Ashville Methodist?" Brendan nodded. "He had moved here to take a church that was comprised mostly of elderly folks. When he heard we were thinking of selling the house, he urged us to come to Georgia and help out." She smiled. "We just couldn't get away from it, I guess. A couple of miles from here is one of the largest nursing homes in the Atlanta area. Rome and I helped get it established—nearly thirty years ago, now."

Elllie sighed and gave a little shrug. "Rome was in his sixties when we moved here. His heart finally gave out—oh, about ten years ago. I miss him still, but we had a good life. A long life. A life filled with love."

Brendan felt a movement at her ankles and reached down to pick up the big Himalayan cat. The beast purred contentedly and settled into her lap.

"That's Stoney" Ellie explained. "Named for Stone Mountain. He's the last offspring of our dear old Mount Pisgah—four generations removed." The old woman reached out a hand and scratched the cat under his chin. Without warning, he leaped onto the table and began rubbing his whiskers against the blue glass bottle. Brendan caught it just as it toppled off the edge, and Ellie grabbed the cat and set him firmly on the floor.

"You break that bottle, and your name will be Mud Cat," she scolded.

"Mrrow." Stoney glared at her and stalked off into the kitchen.

Brendan held the bottle up to the window and regarded it solemnly. It was just an old piece of glass, but for over sixty years it had guarded the dreams of four young girls. And, in an odd way, had led Brendan herself on a quest for her future. "What do you think of your dreams now, Ellie, after so many years?"

The old woman's face creased into a smile. "I suppose you could call me a failure," she answered. "I never really fulfilled my dreams. Never went to college or became a social worker or got to work with Jane Addams. Never even set foot in Chicago." She paused. "But sometimes your dreams are not as important as your calling. So, in a way, perhaps I did accomplish what I set out to do. Maybe I helped people. Maybe, as Catherine would say, I made a difference—one life at a time."

She stopped suddenly and regarded Brendan with an intense gaze. "And what about you, Miss Brendan Delaney? What of your dreams?"

Brendan shook her head. She couldn't respond to Ellie's question. Not yet. The pieces were all beginning to fit together, but there was one final segment she needed to discover before she could find her answer. "There's one more dream I have to track down before I can concentrate on my own," she said. "But nobody seems to know what happened to Mary Love Buchanan."

"None of the others were as close to Mary Love as I was," Ellie responded. "Yet even I haven't heard from her in years. It may be a wild-goose chase, but I can give you one place to look."

The old woman went to a kitchen drawer, rummaged, and came up with a pen and a used recipe card. She wrote something on the back and handed it to Brendan.

"Let me know what you find."

Brendan looked at the address. "Minnesota?"

Ellie nodded. "Last I heard. They should be able to tell you something, at least."

"Whew. That's a long way."

"When you're committed to your dreams, distance hardly matters," Ellie said cryptically.

"Tell that to my boss, who will no doubt have some choice words to say about my expense account." Brendan said, then shrugged. "I may get fired, but it's a risk I'll just have to take."

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