The Bridegrooms (30 page)

Althea looked up from her soup, stricken, but Lisette was nonplussed.

“I wouldn’t say disastrous. After all, I did meet Kenneth. I think I might be his good luck charm.”

“Really?” Hazel chimed in. “At the first game you attended, he missed a catch and a man was seriously injured. Tuesday he was benched. Yesterday they lost. And today—how did our Spiders do today, Doc?”

“Abysmal. Nine to three, but if it’s any consolation, Lissy darling, your young man did absolutely nothing to contribute to it.”

“Kenneth says that miserable manager of theirs is keeping him out until…” She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling.

“Well, well,” Doc jumped in, “if it’s any comfort, I don’t know that there’s anything he could have done. It’s that Cajun Bridegroom who seemed to be on fire.”

“Why are we talking about this?” Hazel said, much to Vada’s relief. “We’ve never talked about baseball at supper.”

“We’d better get used to it.” Lisette licked the back of her spoon. “I have a feeling we’ll be having a player at the table a lot more often. When
he’s not on the road, of course. And on Sundays, which means somebody will have to learn how to cook.”

“I’ve never known any of your beaus to stick around long enough to earn a place at the table.” The warmth in Garrison’s voice carried a big brother quality taking the sting off the jab. Lisette’s retort, however, had no such cushion.

“And I’ve never known any of Vada’s beaus to aspire to anything greater.”

Normally Vada would jump to Garrison’s defense at such an attack, but right now it was all she could do to swallow spoonful after spoonful of Molly’s orange soup. Luckily, Molly herself arrived at that moment, distracting everybody with her announcement of the main course. Althea was dispatched to carry the stacked soup bowls to the kitchen, while Hazel and Lisette were ordered to help bring in the rest of the meal, leaving a quiet interlude for the remaining three at the table.

“Are you all right this evening, darling?” Garrison made to touch her arm, but she snatched it away, reaching for her water glass.

“Just very tired. I didn’t sleep well last night, and then I napped too long this afternoon.” She took a sip before turning to him and offering a weak smile. “I’m a bit off, I guess.”

Molly and her sisters returned, each carrying a steaming dish of some sort: a bowl of broccoli, another heaped with fluffy white potatoes, a basket with a mountain of brown crispy rolls—all designed to surround Molly’s delicious Irish cod cobbler.

“And where were you off to so early?” Doc brought the napkin to his whiskers. “Already gone before I came downstairs.”

“Shopping.” She forced herself to look at him. “A new hat and some things at the stationer’s.” She looked around at her sisters. “If you all can behave at supper, you’ll each get a prize.”

“You didn’t make it to the theater at all?” Garrison asked.

“There’s nothing I can’t take care of tomorrow.”

“Might be good for you to have something to keep you busy.”

Her hand shook as she set down her glass. “Why would you say that?”

“If you’re anything like me, you’ll be a nervous wreck all day. You know, half of me can’t wait until the concert starts, and the other half can’t wait until it’s over.”

Plates were filled within an inch of their edges, but when Vada’s once again sat in front of her, she could do little more than pick her fork through the creamy fish and sauce spilling out from under the flaky scone topping. Still, lack of eating would only lead to more questions, as this was one of her favorite dishes. After a few valiant bites, her appetite awakened, and for a time superseded her conscience.

She sent several grateful glimpses to Hazel, who worked doggedly to keep the conversation away from troublesome topics. Unfortunately, given the circumstances, that left very little safe territory. And when, for the third time, Lisette batted her eyes and asked Vada exactly what
did
she do all day, Hazel slammed her fork down on the table.

“Okay, family. I didn’t want to break it to you this way, but there’s something I must share.”

Vada’s potatoes stuck in her throat, and everybody else at the table looked equally surprised.

“Yes, Hazel?” Doc set down his own fork, giving over his full attention.

“I have been, well, corresponding with a young man for quite some time now. It seems we may have developed feelings for one another. He has asked me to marry him, and I intend to accept.”

Vada managed to smile before her jaw dropped. “You didn’t tell me this.”

“You fell asleep before I got to the end.”

“What makes you think I will stand by and allow my daughter to marry a complete stranger?”

“He’s not a stranger to me. And I know you trust me not to do anything foolish. Tomorrow I’ll post him a letter suggesting I go out to meet him face to face. I thought, Doc, that you might want to come along with me. You could use a change of scenery.”

“Exactly what scenery are we talking about?”

Hazel hesitated and brightened her smile. “Wyoming.”

Lisette choked on something, drawing Doc’s temporary attention. “That is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!”

Only Althea seemed genuinely pleased, leading Vada to wonder if Hazel had been confiding in her too.

“I know it might seem insane,” Hazel said, “but it’s been on my mind for months. Do you realize if I move out there this summer, I’ll be able to cast a vote for our next president?”

“As long as it’s for McKinley,” Doc said. “I wouldn’t want any daughter of mine voting with the Democratic party.”

“Hazel,” Garrison wisely interceded, “I had no idea you were so involved in the suffrage movement. Seems to me there’s a much less radical step you could take to show your support for women’s voting.”

“It’s not about that. It was just a lark at first, and then…”

Lisette twirled a long strand of hair. “So, he doesn’t know what you look like?”

“No.” Hazel caught Vada’s eye, and Vada knew she was reliving the humiliating moments with Alex Triplehorn.

“Do you know what he looks like?”

“No,” Hazel lied. Vada could only imagine what Lisette would make of the mountain man in the picture.

“Well,” Doc said, as if winding up for a proclamation, “it seems premature for a strong reaction. But it is a diverting topic, I’ll grant you that.”

Just like that, the case was closed; in fact, all conversation came to a halt, so that nearly everyone startled when Molly strode in with pie.

“None for me.” Garrison brought his napkin up to wipe his lips. “I have an early day tomorrow—need to wrap things up before the concert, you know.”

“Then let me send a piece home with you on a plate. Not a word! ’Tis not a problem. I’ll be back in a jiff!”

“Thank you as always, Molly.” Garrison stood. “You’re a saint among women.”

Doc stood too and shook Garrison’s hand.

Vada touched Garrison’s sleeve. “I’ll walk you to the door.” It was the first she’d spoken since the soup, and Vada walked away from a plate half full of food. She’d hear about that later.

Once they were in the front hall, he reached for her. “Are you quite sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, I—” She cast a furtive glance into the dining room, satisfied at the level of conversation. “I finally had a chance to talk with Alex Triplehorn this afternoon.”

“You went to the hotel?”

The question came out of concern, not suspicion, and the truth clogged like wool in the back of her throat. “He came here.”

“Oh, darling. How terrible for you. And your father?”

She shook her head and lowered her voice. “He doesn’t know. And I don’t think he will. I—well, I put the matter behind us.”

He took her chin in his hand and studied her, close, the way she imagined he pored over the massive law books he sometimes carried around, looking for the elusive detail. “There’s nothing you want to tell me?”

Nothing I could bear
.

His very eyes touched her, and it was unfathomable to think he could not see through this thin veneer of control straight to the burning bedlam within. Unable to endure his scrutiny, she threw her arms around his waist and buried her cheek in his lapel. “Just that I love you, Garrison.” She would have said it again if doing so would make it truer.

“Oh, darling.” He kissed the top of her head. “You know that I love you too.”

“And don’t I just love the both of ya.” There stood Molly, wielding a small plate covered with a bright blue napkin. “Now leave the boy to get his sleep. You could use a bit more yerself.”

“Let me walk you outside.” Vada stood back so he could take the plate.

He looked down at her feet. “You’re wearing house shoes.”

“I won’t cross the street. Just to the porch.”

“Just behave yerselves.” Molly winked, reassuring Vada that she knew nothing of her indiscretion.

Once they were on the other side of the door, the memory of the previous night washed over her, and she wished she’d stayed to clear the dishes. Side by side they walked down the concrete steps—he to the sidewalk below, she to the bottom step. Her braided hair fell over one shoulder, and he reached for it, prompting her to come down and close the gap between them.

“I’ve never seen you looking like this, Vada.”

“You mean, like an utter mess?”

“So natural. You’re lovely, you know.”

“I look like a common housewife.”

“Housewife, maybe. Common? Never.”

She tucked a few stray hairs behind her ears, before remembering how much she hated the way they stuck out. He’d never seen those either.

“Do you think she’ll really do it?” he asked.

“Hazel? I don’t know. I suppose she’s like Lisette that way, impetuous. But to
marry
someone she barely knows? You and I have known each other for years and…”
And I behaved as if you didn’t exist
.

“I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you.”

“You don’t know what it is to hurt me, Garrison.”

“I’m well aware people expect—that you probably expect—we’d be married by now.”

“Don’t be silly.” She attempted a dismissive laugh. “I’ve never given it a thought.”

“You’re a horrible liar.” He balanced the plate on the concrete banister and took her in his arms. “You deserve so much more than I can give you.”

“No,” she whispered. “I don’t—”

“But it’s all about to change. I should be partner by the fall. And then—”

“And then?”

“And then I’ll speak with your father. If Hazel follows through, he might not like the idea of losing another daughter so soon.”

“And then?”

He kissed her forehead. “And then, my silly violet-eyed goose, we’ll become engaged. And when I’ve saved enough money to buy you a proper home…”

He couldn’t even say it. He looked at her and cocked his head, inviting her to complete the story, but tonight, she couldn’t either. Guilt weighed down her tongue, making it impossible to speak even the emptiest of promises.

“Well,” he said finally, uncomfortable with the silence, “I guess after all that, it’s just a matter of God’s timing.”

“Oh?” The bitterness in her voice surprised her. “
After all that
you’ll put it in God’s hands?”

“You know what I mean. My life—our lives—are in His hands. When the time is right, He’ll make it clear.”

“To you?”

“Of course.”

“And what about to me? What if it’s clear to me now? What if He tells you to marry me tonight? And you don’t? And tomorrow, you just don’t—don’t want me?” Her pitch rose with every question, thick with tears, and she folded her arms tight around her in an attempt to keep herself intact.

“Darling, that could never happen.” He attempted an embrace, but his cajoling tone burned as much as his touch. She backed up three steps, until she was safely out of his reach.

“You don’t know that. You can’t predict how your heart will change. Look at Kenny and Lisette. One day they hate each other, and now—”

“They’re different. They’re young.”

“So am I!” She stopped herself just short of screaming. “So are
we
. But I’ve been your girl for so long, and everybody’s mother for so much longer—it’s no wonder nobody thinks I’m worth marrying. You just don’t realize how much I want—”

By then he was next to her, and she fell into him, her mouth pressed against his shoulder to stop the words that would speak her desires. Oh, if he would drag her into the alcove for an ardent embrace. Entice her to the corner for a kiss under the streetlight. Leave Molly’s pie on the banister and carry her into his life. She wouldn’t stop him until they reached his bed. If then. But she needed something to protest. Something to fight against. And he offered her nothing.

“I believe,” he said, his hand caught up under her hair, “you are overly tired.”

No!

“What with the day you’ve had.”

“No…”

“I know Mr. Triplehorn’s appearance has been upsetting all around—”

Lord! Please let him hear what I cannot say
.

“—and we’ve all been a bit on edge with so many rehearsals. So what do you say we table this until tomorrow night?”

She knew his touch was meant to bring comfort, his voice to soothe, but now she recoiled against both and slowly stepped away.

“You’re probably right.” She stared at the tips of her well-worn house shoes.

He stooped to look up at her. “Until tomorrow?”

She nodded. “I’m all yours.”

Until tomorrow
.

FIRST CHAIR