The Wedding Circle (18 page)

Cudd'n M'Dear looked as if she were about to swoon. “Oh, I can hardly wait. You really haven't seen me when I'm on a mission. But first, I want you to give me all the dirty little details about what he's done to you. I must prepare myself properly for this role.” Then out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Jeremy approaching with her wine. “We'll get together later and huddle. But you just leave it up to me,” she said quickly with a wink. “That councilman of yours won't know what hit him.”

 

An hour or so later the rehearsal was finally under way, and everyone was lined up to march in a stately manner down the makeshift aisle between all the rented folding chairs. After much discussion, Jeremy had persuaded Maura Beth to choose
Symphony No. 9
by Beethoven as a classical change of pace for the processional. He was particularly a fan of the opening “Allegro ma non troppo-un poco maestoso” and even intended to use it for the recessional.

“I'd like for us to use the stretch starting about two minutes in,” he had explained further, quite adamant on the subject. “After all, I think Mendelssohn's been done to death.”

He had also insisted that they use his old LP of the
Complete Works of Beethoven
that he had discovered and bought for a song at an old flea market up in Nashville, and accompanying it was the turntable that reflected his attachment to outdated but revered technology.

“At least you're consistent about wanting to be born in another century,” Maura Beth had told him, once the matter had been settled.

Thus, Renette, Nora Duddney, and Miss Voncille began their studied journey toward Father Hickock, who awaited them through the open doors out on the deck, his black and white vestments billowing in the breeze off the lake. Behind him, the blood-orange sun was squatting on the horizon but sinking fast; while beside him stood Jeremy, tall and sturdy—with Paul McShay looking on proudly as his son's best man. But the two eager bridesmaids were no more than halfway up the aisle when the LP began to show its age—namely, a pesky scratch that would not be denied. Caught in a loop, the allegro repeated the same brief strain over and over; both Renette and Nora stopped in their tracks, looking alternately amused and bewildered, while giggles broke out among the onlookers.

Jeremy couldn't resist, pointing emphatically. “I think my Beethoven's stuck in a rut.”

Father Hickock quickly came to the rescue with that jolly smile of his and solemnly lifted his right arm, as if about to impart a blessing upon his congregation. “We know that God is patient with us in all our endeavors, but he has his limits when it comes to worn-out technology. Therefore, would someone kindly pick up that stubborn stylus, please?”

Douglas McShay sprang from his seat and rushed over, did the deed, and then crossed his fingers as the music resumed a few notes ahead. “No more stops and starts, I hope.”

“As my mother the seamstress was fond of saying all the time—‘the world could use a little more excellent needlework! ' ” Father Hickock called out, again indulging his sense of humor.

Fortunately, the LP was on its best behavior from that point forward. Becca, Periwinkle, and Connie soon followed as matrons of honor, peeling off to either side to join the bridesmaids on the deck. Finally came William Mayhew escorting his daughter as only loving fathers can do; then the recitation of the couple's original vows followed—all in one smooth take.

After Father Hickock had listened to what they had each composed, his eyes seemed to widen and twinkle at the same time. “Well, I do believe God enjoys the expressive use of English on these and many other occasions. That was some very creative writing. Not to mention quite moving.”

Jeremy lifted his head proudly, as if the praise had been solely directed at him. “Thank you, Father. I like to think it's my mission in life to preserve and enhance the language.”

“It's the English teacher in him, you know,” Maura Beth said out of the side of her mouth. “He just loves the classics. Well, anything classic—old cars, music, you name it.”

“You make a charming couple,” Father Hickock told them. “And I'm so glad I was able to come up and preside over your ceremony, Maura Beth. To see how you've grown from the little girl who took her First Communion in my church into such a beautiful and accomplished woman warms my heart. Weddings and christenings are the greatest joys of my ministry. I look forward to performing your marriage ceremony tomorrow evening, and may that sunset be as lovely as this one was.”

 

Everyone began to dig into the tried-and-true Twinkle buffet with gusto after the rehearsal was over: chicken spaghetti, stuffed mushrooms, tomato aspic, arugula and mandarin orange salad, and lemon icebox pie for those with a sweet tooth. In the aftermath of it all, Maura Beth could tell that Jeremy was overwhelmed by the many names and faces that were being thrown at him from her side of the family.

“Now, which one was Lewinda and which one was Mabel Anne?” he was asking her at one point while they balanced their plates on their knees near the fireplace. And, “But tell me again—who is Mrs. Salter? Is she another cousin or just the one who's your mother's best friend? Or am I thinking about Mimi Halloran? Or was it Harriman?” Maura Beth could have eaten Jeremy with a spoon, he was so earnest and eager to please her.

On the other hand, she had no such dilemma. Jeremy's parents and his grandparents on his father's side were the only ones attending from his family, since his sister, Elise, stubbornly continued to boycott the ceremony. Johnnie-Dell Crews and three other teachers from the Cherico High faculty rounded out those who had accepted invitations on Jeremy's behalf, being the newcomer that he was.

Somewhere in the middle of the rehearsal festivities it dawned on Maura Beth that as hard as they had tried to keep the wedding on the small and simple side, it had still managed to become more elaborate than they anticipated. There were still more people milling around, eating, drinking, and laughing than they really wanted; and yesterday evening's news from Jeremy that Miss Voncille and Locke Linwood had eloped was just about the simplest, sanest thing she'd heard in ages. But it was too late to turn back now.

It was, in fact, Miss Voncille—now Mrs. Locke Linwood—who helped Maura Beth put things in perspective after the crowd had thinned out significantly and people were heading back to their homes and hotel rooms.

“There's something very important we need to discuss,” Miss Voncille began, as the two of them stepped out on the deck for a bit of the cool autumn air. “I guess you realize that I absolutely should not be one of your bridesmaids tomorrow, even though I went through the entire rehearsal without saying a word. Why, I didn't even bring it up once with Father Hickock, but I probably should have. It's just a fact we can't ignore any longer.”

For some reason—perhaps it was the refreshing breeze off the lake that heightened her senses—Maura Beth got it right away and gave a little gasp of recognition. “Oh . . . of course. You should be one of my matrons of honor now.”

“Right you are. I'm officially no longer a bridesmaid, I'm thrilled to say. That monkey is off my back.”

They both giggled as Maura Beth leaned back against the railing, and said, “It won't change things much, though. You'll just walk in behind Becca and Connie and Periwinkle instead of with Renette and Nora. Oh, these wedding technicalities are such a drag, aren't they? I was just thinking how sensible you and Locke were to do it the way you did.”

Miss Voncille looked skeptical, even slightly disapproving. “Yes, but don't lose sight of the fact that we're almost seventy. We couldn't fool around like we had all the time in the world. You and Jeremy are twenty-somethings. You should savor all the festivities this first time around. You'll both remember it for the rest of your lives. Forget the glitches and the hassles that have made you worry and maybe even want to pull your hair out. Just relax and enjoy it. As someone who had to wait most of her life for the big moment, I know what I'm talking about.”

Maura Beth gave her an impulsive hug and exhaled. “Thanks for that, Miss Voncille. I know you're right.” Then she remembered. “But what's all this I hear about you selling your house? Becca mentioned it to me just before the rehearsal and said Stout Fella wants you to list with him, but you wanted to go the ‘for sale by owner' route. It all came as news to me. Did you tell Jeremy about it when you called us last night?” Maura Beth could tell that Miss Voncille was becoming decidedly uncomfortable, quickly averting her eyes.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I did,” Miss Voncille said, trying for nonchalance. “I believe he said you were in the shower at the time.”

“I was. But why didn't he tell me everything? He's the most organized, detail-oriented person I've ever known. That's just not the sort of thing he would keep to himself.”

Suddenly, Miss Voncille glanced at her watch. “Ummm, well, I wish I could go into it more, but I believe it's almost time.”

“Time for what?”

Just then, Jeremy and Locke came out onto the deck with big grins plastered on their faces, and Maura Beth began to wonder if they'd had too much to drink. It often came with the territory where wedding hoopla was concerned. “They're ready for you inside,” Jeremy said, tilting his head toward the door.

“Go on in,” Miss Voncille added, the excitement rising in her voice. “We've been frantically planning all this for you around the clock. It's a little surprise. Actually, it's a big surprise.”

Jeremy took Maura Beth by the hand, and what was about to unfold came to her at the precise moment he touched her, flowing through her in some unknown, intuitive manner. That was how connected they had become, and she knew she would remember that particular heady rush for the rest of her life.

15

A Pair of Scissors

T
here they all sat or stood as one—the members of the wedding party and the core of The Cherry Cola Book Club as well—waiting for Maura Beth in the great room and smiling to beat the band. Her parents soon became her main focus, however; her eyes particularly went to her mother, who looked happier than Maura Beth had seen her in a very long time. Had it actually been in her album of wedding pictures taken some thirty years ago? Way too long, of course, but was this current smile a genuine one or just more of her mother's machinations? Momentarily, William Mayhew spoke up for the group.

“Sweetheart, we have some wonderful news for you, thanks to the quick thinking of Jeremy and Miss Voncille. Your mother and I are going to give you the down payment to buy Miss Voncille's house on Painter Street, and we'll see to it that you get a good deal down at the bank. They'll have the papers all ready for you when you get back from Key West. Our wedding present was going to be money to use as you wished, but we just thought it might work out better for you this way. We hope you like the decision we made. Jeremy seemed to think you'd be pleased.”

Although Maura Beth had already guessed what he was going to say, she played along magnificently, sounding genuinely surprised without going overboard. “Oh, I just love that little house so much, Daddy. I'm not just pleased, I'm overwhelmed—thank you so much!” She lost no time in hugging and kissing both of her parents and then followed suit with Jeremy. “So this is what you've been up to! You and Miss Voncille and . . . I guess the rest of you knew about this, too?”

Connie and Douglas raised their hands, and she said, “ ‘Heard it through the grapevine,' to quote one of my favorite rock lyrics from my era. You know how we book clubbers are about staying in touch.”

“It was all I could do to keep from pickin' up the phone and spillin' the beans, girl,” Periwinkle added. “You know how I like to spread the news around.”

Then Becca spoke up. “We're so excited for you. You'll be surprised what owning your own home will do for your entire outlook. Gosh, I sound just like one of my husband's brochures, don't I?”

Stout Fella offered up his big laugh. “Well, that's my philosophy of life. You need to own a piece of the good earth to really feel connected to it, and I'm just the guy to sell it to you. Except you'll have to wait 'til you're in the market for another house, since I had nothing to do with this deal. Sure would have liked that commission, Miss Voncille.”

“You have plenty of projects to occupy you right out here at the lake,” Becca reminded him.

“It all happened so fast, it made my head spin,” Miss Voncille explained. “I probably would have listed with you if things hadn't fallen into place the way they did.” Then she focused on Maura Beth. “But just so you know, I'll have everything moved out and into Locke's house by the time you and Jeremy return from your honeymoon. Including the potted palms.”

Maura Beth recalled her first impressions of Miss Voncille's intriguing “jungle.” “I think I'd like to keep a couple if you don't mind.”

Miss Voncille dramatically clasped her hands together. “That would be wonderful. At least two more of my babies will have a good home!”

“I like the way they looked in that big, bright kitchen of yours. Everything was all yellow and green and full of life,” Maura Beth added.

“I think kitchens should be cheerful. It's not debatable. We spend enough time in them. And whenever I'd let something boil over on the stove, I never worried. I knew all that steam would be very beneficial to my palms.” Then Miss Voncille turned to Becca. “Although I have to admit I don't spend as much time in my kitchen as I used to when
The Becca Broccoli Show
was on the radio. I was there with my cup of morning coffee at my counter listening to every show. I miss the recipes and the cooking tips—and all the humor you put into everything.”

Becca pointed to her growing baby bump and laughed. “I do appreciate that, Miss Voncille. In fact, WHYY tells me they're still getting calls and letters all the time begging me to come back. But as you can see, I've got a different kind of bun in the oven now. But don't forget about my cookbook that'll be coming out in a few months. That way, you can have me with you year-round.”

“Will it be coming out in time for Christmas?”

“I'm going to try my best. It would have been out earlier, but I have to admit my pregnancy has been my main priority. That, and making sure my Stout Fella here sticks to his nutrition regimen.”

“I can vouch for us both,” Stout Fella said. “She eats the stuff she's supposed to for the baby, I eat my stuff for my burning feet, and I'd say we're doing just fine. She keeps gaining weight, and I keep losing.”

“I see that. Looks good on you, Justin. Well, just keep on gaining and losing, and don't get them mixed up,” Maura Beth said. “And, Becca, we're definitely going to have that book signing at the library for you when the time comes.”

“I'll hold you to that.”

Maura Beth continued to circulate among her treasured circle of friends and soon found herself bonding as she had so often in the past with Periwinkle, who was overflowing with advice as she worked her gum.

“Girl, movin' is the pits. But here's a really good tip. You go out and buy yourself lotsa trash bags and keep an eye out when your movers come. If you don't, they'll wrap up everything in sight, including the leftovers in the fridge, and charge you for all of it to boot. Take my word.”

Maura Beth was laughing now. “It's been so long since I moved up from Louisiana, I'd practically forgotten about all that. But I know you're right. They boxed up everything in my wastebaskets last time. Imagine—old, crumpled-up pieces of paper wrapped in new crumpled-up pieces of paper!”

“But can you believe it? You have your own home!” Periwinkle continued, nudging her friend playfully.

“Not to mention a wonderful husband and a new library going up a few hundred feet away.”

The two of them enjoyed an impulsive hug, but Periwinkle soon pulled away, frowning. “Which reminds me—did you invite His Majesty to your big to-do tomorrow?”

“Who?”

“Our beloved Councilman Sparks.”

“Oh, yes, I did, as a matter of fact, and he says he's coming.”

“Do you think he'll behave himself, considering his track record regarding the library and the book club?”

Maura Beth looked wickedly smug. “Trust me. I have a little treat planned for him at the reception.”

“Well, it looks like everything is finally goin' your way.”

Maura Beth thought about Periwinkle's words, indulging a warm inner glow as she moved about the great room in and out of conversations and soaking up this milestone moment in her life. It all confirmed once again the rightness of her decision to stick it out in Cherico personally and professionally over the past six years.

There were a couple of loose ends that Maura Beth needed to tie up, however, and the first concerned Mr. and Mrs. Locke Linwood.

“I'm just curious,” Maura Beth said, sidling up to them with a smile. “Where did you two end up on your elopement honeymoon? You haven't said a word, and I'm just dying to hear all about it.”

“Ah, that!” Locke answered, after a sip of his wine. “Well, we just got in the car and drove up to Memphis and then headed west to Little Rock. But we didn't stop there, did we, Voncille?”

“No, indeed. We were eagles flying high and free. We just kept on going until we got off the interstate at this little town called Altus. They billed themselves as the Wine Capital of Arkansas, or something like that. So we toured a couple of wineries, did a lot of free tasting of the grape, and then spent the night in this quaint little country inn. Although I have to admit, we didn't get much . . . sleep, so to speak. It was all just too glorious. We were like teenagers on a lark!”

“Sounds like a lot of fun. I hope Jeremy and I can have your outlook when we get to be your age.”

Locke put a finger to his temple and winked. “It's all up here, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

The second loose end was certainly the more important, however. There was still that unfinished business to address with her mother. Yes, Cara Lynn Mayhew had smiled right along with the others when her father had unveiled their spectacular wedding gift. There had been a hug and kiss exchanged between mother and daughter that had felt genuine enough. But Maura Beth knew she simply could not leave it at that, not with the wedding and honeymoon fast approaching, not with any number of things left unsaid and truly unexplored.

 

It was upstairs in the guest room that Maura Beth and her mother faced each other, sitting on the edge of the quilted bed with its rough-hewn, cedar posts that faced the lake below. Oddly enough, it was Cara Lynn who had come up to her daughter at one point and initiated everything.

“Maura Beth,” she had said, gently taking her arm, “I'd like to tell you a few things in private. Let's head upstairs.”

Once they had settled in, Cara Lynn retrieved a pair of scissors from her purse and laid them out on the patchwork quilt. The gesture was at once puzzling and—for a brief moment—seemed just a tad bit ominous.

“What are those for?” Maura Beth wanted to know, cocking her head but still managing a smile.

“They're kitchen shears that Connie was good enough to lend me. No, I don't ordinarily go around carrying them. Don't worry—I'll get to them soon enough,” Cara Lynn said. Then she took a deep breath, straightened her posture, and rested her hands in her lap, looking thoroughly relaxed. “But first I want to start acting like a mother instead of a prima donna.”

Maura Beth made a half gesture of protest, but Cara Lynn quickly waved her off. “No, sweetheart. This is long overdue. Let me have my say. Or at least the right kind of say, for once.”

“Please, Mama. Go ahead.”

Then the words started coming, and it occurred to Maura Beth that everything about them was natural and welcome—with not a single syllable forced. “When I was first married, I wanted to have a big family. I didn't particularly like growing up an only child myself. Maybe things would have been different for me if you hadn't been our only child as well. Your father and I wanted a brother or sister for you—well, we probably intended to have as many as possible—but I wasn't able to have any more children. Just one of those things that sometimes happens in life. It breaks your heart a little, but you move on.”

“I know, Mama. You told me a long time ago that year I asked you if I could have a little brother or sister for Christmas.”

Cara Lynn reached over and took her daughter's hand, and again, everything felt right to Maura Beth, as it rarely had before between the two of them. “Once you arrived, I think I expected you to be just like me. I was going to dress you up in style, and you were going to be the social leader of your generation. But I knew from the beginning that you weren't like that at all. A mother knows such things and doesn't have to be told. And it wasn't just your red hair and obstinate temperament.” Cara Lynn briefly looked away and chuckled. “I remember clearly that your father and I spent a lot of time researching both of our family trees for a while there. Oh, we shook them and shook them to see what would fall out. We thought maybe that way we'd discover just where you came from. Isn't that silly?”

Maura Beth saw the humor in the remark at once and shook her head. “No, I don't think so. I understand. I know I've always been a handful.”

“I think your father truly appreciated your uniqueness long before I did. Whenever I'd say to him, ‘What are we going to do about her?' he'd just shrug and say, ‘We'll let her be whoever she's going to be.' And when you turned out to be a small-town Mississippi librarian—wonder of wonders—I just didn't know how to handle it. I didn't see how you could possibly be happy up here in Cherico so far away from the world you'd grown up in down around New Orleans.”

Maura Beth realized that she had heard some of her mother's words before; but this time—and maybe for the first time—she was hearing them from the heart—both hers and her mother's.

“But despite all my stubborn protestations,” Cara Lynn continued, “I want you to know that I truly see how happy you are up here, what Jeremy means to you, how you fit in so well with these friends of yours you've made on your own. When I heard the words you and Jeremy had written for each other this evening, they took my breath away. I remember what it was like to have something or someone take my breath away. His name was William Morrell Mayhew, and I still feel the same way about him as the day I married him.”

Maura Beth gently squeezed her mother's hand. “It's all there in your wedding pictures.”

“Your father reminded me of that before we came up again. We went through the album together—we hadn't done that in a long time, you know. And then he turned to me, and said, ‘That's all our little redhead wants. The same thing we had—and still have. Forget about the trappings and what the wedding looks like. Let's just take tons of pictures of her looking as happy as we looked.”

“This is just about the best conversation we've ever had,” Maura Beth said, the affection flowing from the light in her eyes. But she soon returned to the scissors with an impish grin. “And I can't wait to see how those fit in to all of this!”

“Oh, those!” Cara Lynn picked them up and stared at them as if they were expensive jewelry. “They're just symbolism, so to speak. I hadn't thought about the idea in many years. First, your father told me he thought I should go see Father Hickock about all of my wedding resentment and see if I could get some help. ‘You need to do something, Cara Lynn,' he said to me. ‘This could affect your relationship with Maura Beth the rest of your lives.' Or something like that.”