The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek (29 page)

“I give thanks every day that Leo and Nick broke my sliding door and that you broke my swing. Those kids saved my life. I met their mother, fell in love, stopped drinking, made friends, and now we have a baby, a little girl.” He shook his head. “Life is a miracle.” He grinned at Adam. “Thank you, my friend.”

O
n Friday morning, the Widows kicked Adam out of the parsonage at six. After swearing Hector and Janey to a vow of silence, they allowed the kids to stay and get ready for school.

They’d told Gussie to come to town by two so she’d scheduled her day around that. Adam had told her they were decorating the master bedroom and bath as a wedding present, which worried her a little. However, Blossom did have a way with decorating. She could only hope Blossom was in charge.

When she got to the church, Adam had his head on the desk. When she opened the door, he lifted his head.

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Adam said, only half awake.

“That was Chewy snoring?”

He stretched. “Okay, that was me. I stayed with Sam at the hospital until after midnight and got up at five this morning.” He glanced up at the clock. “Guess we’d better get over there for the big reveal. I’ve watched cars and trucks pull into the parking lot all morning, and women have been bustling in and out of the parsonage.”

“You can’t see the parsonage from here.”

“No, Ouida told me when she brought lunch.”

After they left the church and headed toward the parsonage, Gussie could see all the activity. “How sweet of the ladies to do this,” Gussie said.

“Wait till you see what they’ve done before you decide that.”

“You can’t believe how many women are in there,” Ouida called from the Kowalski porch. “They kept coming and coming. Not quite enough to qualify as a multitude and I wouldn’t dare call them a herd, but they’ve been tramping in and out all day.”

As they ascended the porch steps, Blossom opened the screen door and beckoned them inside.

Women filled the front hall. Gussie attempted to count: the three Widows and Pansy—who often joined their projects but was, sadly, a happily married woman and couldn’t become a Widow—and six or seven other women quivered with anticipation in the hallway while a few more lined the staircase. Too bad Birdie couldn’t be there. Farley had to drive her to a doctor’s appointment or X-ray or physical therapy. Gussie couldn’t remember the conflict.

The women swelled with pride because this counted as a special occasion. They’d come together and donated items and ideas to redecorate both the nuptial bedroom and bathroom.

Adam hadn’t wanted that. He’d said he was perfectly happy with his two sets of towels from his seminary days. He didn’t need curtains because the blinds did fine for privacy and darkness. A nice bedspread would be ruined by Chewy’s huge body. However, beating off a determined group of Widows and the women who’d joined them seldom worked. Certainly hadn’t done so this time.

Gussie agreed with the women. She’d never seen the second-floor bedrooms but she could only guess what the living area of a single man would look like. Spartan. And a set of towels from seminary? If the Widows and friends hadn’t provided them, she would have.

“Let us show you around,” Blossom fluttered.

When all the women nodded, Gussie felt as if she were surrounded by a dozen blue- and gray-haired bobbleheads.

“Let’s go,” she said gamely because, after all, they could not get out of this and it should be if not fun at least interesting. She grabbed Adam’s arm tightly as he attempted to sneak out the front door. “You’re not going to abandon me,” she whispered and kept a strong hold on his hand.

Most of the women crowded up the stairs in front of them although, perhaps having noted Adam’s attempt to break free, Winnie and Mercedes stood behind them, arms folded at the foot of the steps. Both smiled and glared, a mingled expression only a Widow could carry off.

Without a word, Gussie and her soon-to-be husband headed upstairs. On each side of the hallway stood grinning women.

“Here’s the bathroom. You just go inside and tell us what you think,” Blossom said.

When she entered, Gussie bit her bottom lip. The decor struck her as incredibly funny, but she refused to insult these nice ladies by laughing.

The color choice was subtle, almost ministerial. Willowy flowers in a dark maroon—perhaps chosen by a Texas A&M fan—covered a beige shower curtain. On the floor lay a matching bath mat. Thick bath towels in beige with maroon washcloths and hand towels hung from two towel bars. A maroon toilet-seat cover completed the ensemble. Gussie had never understood the need for a toilet-seat cover. After all, everyone knew what lay hidden there—and why did one need to dress up that utilitarian object? However, because the women had donated it all, she nodded and grinned in delight.

“We chose this dark maroon color because we know Gussie doesn’t like pastels,” Mercedes said.

Heaven forbid Gussie should wash up in a pastel bathroom.

“And because we wanted a more masculine color for you, Preacher.”

But it was the art that tickled Gussie so much. They’d hung several calligraphy Bible verses, each in a maroon font and a gold frame. Very elegant. Very pious.

They made the bathroom look like a prayer chapel.

“Very holy,” Adam said in the voice Gussie recognized as the one he used to cover his mirth.

“Lovely.” Gussie studied the walls.

Behind her, she could hear their words of praise—very holy and lovely—being passed down to the women at the end of the hall.

“Thank you,” she said. She felt deep gratitude that they had not put a picture of Jesus in here or she’d have to shower fully clothed.

“Go on into the bedroom.” Blossom waved toward the other door.

When Adam opened the door into the chamber, they saw that the women had all hurried from the hallway and now stood against the walls of the bedroom.

In the middle of the bed, taking up almost every inch, lay Chewy. He lifted his massive head to look around at the invaders, then dropped it back on the bed and fell back asleep.

“Off the bed,” Adam whispered to the creature. When the dog didn’t move, he snapped his fingers. Chewy let out a snore.

“If that dog’s going to be there, where are you going to sleep?” Gussie whispered. She spoke softly because she feared the fact she and Adam would be sleeping together in the same bed might embarrass the women.

“Now, if you could see it under the dog,” Blossom said, “you could tell how lovely the pattern is. The bedspread picks up the same motif as the shower curtains.”

When Gussie looked at the small section of the bed that was not covered by long, canine legs and his huge body, she could see the pattern. “How lovely,” Gussie said.

“Chewy, move.” Adam shoved until he exasperated the dog so much, the creature rolled off the bed.

“Yes.” Gussie rubbed her fingers over the texture. “Beautiful.”

Photographs—really lovely ones—hung around the walls. A view of the Capitol from Sixth Street hung over the bed. The picture on the wall next to the closet showed an old barn surrounded by bluebonnets; a third was a framed old map of Texas.

“These are pretty,” Adam said.

Gussie fingered the taupe drapes that matched the walls. “Silk,” she said. Had these lovely curtains come from a guest room at Blossom’s or had they been donated to the thrift shop? She hoped they hadn’t bought them, because they must have cost a great deal.

“Ladies,” Gussie said filled with deep gratitude. “Thank you so much. I have no idea how this looked before…”

“Very masculine, not a bit feminine or fancy,” Winnie said.

“Plain,” Blossom added.

“Now this is a lovely room,” Gussie finished. “It is beautifully decorated. Thank you.”

Adam took the hand of each woman and squeezed it as he thanked them. “You have always taken such good care of me,” he said. “You furnished the parsonage when I arrived. You got furniture for Hector and Janey.” He waved his hand around the room. “And you’ve made this look like a real bedroom for my bride and me. Thank you.”

As they ushered the ladies downstairs, Gussie looked back to see that Chewy had jumped back onto the bed.

The last night of her conference in Galveston, Hannah sat on the balcony and absorbed the beauty of the scene. Now she could see the separation of water of the Gulf and the dark skies but, little by little, as the sky darkened, they became one. No longer divided. She knew there was a metaphor in that but wasn’t sure what.

Could be it had to do with her and Gabe, and that terrified her.

If she admitted she loved him, if she married him—not that he’d asked, nor did she know if he would and he hadn’t admitted undying love for her—she was afraid she’d lose herself in him. Her feelings for Gabe so overwhelmed her. Would she forget who she was and what she did? Would she turn away from the dream she’d spent years preparing for? She couldn’t live in Butternut Creek and, at the same time, go all over the world to eradicate disease.

Her cell rang. Gabe’s ringtone. She didn’t move. When the call went to voice mail, she listened to the message immediately.

“Sorry I missed you. Guess you’re not back from the meetings. Maybe you went out with friends?”

His voice spooled from the phone, wrapped itself around her, and filled her with such deep yearning it almost hurt. No, it did hurt.

“I miss you,” he said, and his voice dropped to a loving, intimate tone. “See you Sunday.” Then he clicked the phone off.

She stared at the invisible horizon where sky met water. “You idiot,” she scolded herself. “You love him.” How could she love him after such a short time? After only five or six dates? Idiot. She’d loved him since they’d worked together in San Pablo.

Okay, so she loved him. But if she gave up her goal, who would she be? If she married Gabe, would she end up fat—well, probably not fat because she’d never been able to gain weight—with a bunch of children? Doomed to live the rest of her life in Butternut Creek?

Not that Butternut Creek wasn’t a lovely little town, but it would drive Hannah crazy. Probably the use of the word
doomed
gave that away.

If she forgot her dreams and married Gabe, she might act like a sweet, adoring wife for a year or two until she got angry about giving up on her goals. Her frustration would drive them apart, because she did not suffer aggravation quietly. She knew herself very well.

“Dear God, please help me. What do I do?”

She kept her eyes on the moon reflected in the water and she knew exactly what she had to do. But maybe she didn’t have to do that yet. Maybe she could stay happy and in love for a little longer.

Hannah had spent a week at a conference in Galveston about something Adam would never understand but fascinated her. She’d caught up with friends from Kenya, learned a bunch of stuff, lugged home several new books and journals. She and Gabe were dating. Okay, if not dating, at least going out together from time to time. Looked as if things were going well with them, but he never knew with Hannah.

But since she’d come back, she never combed her hair. He thought she’d hacked at it because the length was uneven, here spikes and there curls. When he’d taken the trash out, he noticed that her tube of mascara and lip gloss were on the top. Even more worrisome, she hadn’t returned Gabe’s calls.

“So,” Adam said to Hannah from the sofa where he and Gussie had been watching the news. “How are you and Gabe doing?”

Hannah, her head buried in a journal, mumbled something.

“Did she say fine?” he asked Gussie.

“I didn’t understand. I don’t speak ‘Hannah.’”

“It’s a rare and seldom translated language,” Adam agreed.

“I’d think that, because she’s your sister, you would be able to communicate with her.”

Hannah lifted her eyes from the page. “Very funny and none of your business.”

“Gabe seems to be a good guy,” Gussie said to Adam because she knew the impracticality of carrying on this conversation with Hannah. “How long did he play in the NBA?”

“He played for five years,” Adam added to the odd dialogue being pursued because Hannah refused to join. “Then Gabe decided he wanted to work with kids.”

“Really?” Gussie feigned interest. “Was he injured? Did he have other choices?”

“He had lots of other options and was perfectly healthy.” Adam had begun to feel this was a bad movie with all the backstory told in a stilted conversation, but it was sort of fun and he bet it drove his sister crazy. That in itself was reason enough to continue. “He could have played for the Lakers at double the salary but quit.”

“Sounds like a really great guy,” Gussie repeated. “What do you think, Hannah?”

Hannah tossed the journal on the floor. “What I mumbled before but you didn’t understand was ‘none of your business,’ but in a much less polite way.” She stood and stretched before she wandered out, tossing “Leave me alone” over her shoulder.

“Oh,” Gussie said. “Maybe it’s just as well we didn’t know what she said.”

“I’m worried,” Adam said. “I asked her where she’s going after this, what she’s going to do, but she won’t answer. I know she doesn’t want to stay in Butternut Creek. There’s not a lot for an epidemiologist to do here.”

“Which also brings up a question about Gabe. Would she stay here because of him?”

Adam shrugged. “I don’t know. She won’t talk to me. I don’t even know what she’s thinking. Could be she’s perfectly fine, has a plan for the rest of her life, and I’m worrying for nothing.” When Gussie didn’t respond, he asked, “What do you think?”

“Have you watched her when she looks as if she’s reading her journals? She isn’t. She goes several minutes staring at the page. Her eyes never move. I think she’s trying to figure her life out.”

“At least she’s started to do that here surrounded by family instead of shutting herself up in the attic.” He shook his head. “Then I had to run her off. What a terrible brother I am.”

“Give yourself a break. No one understands Hannah. We try our best.”

“I know.” He put his arm about Gussie. “Let’s change the subject to one we can figure out. How are we going to figure out the living situation?”

“I’ve thought and thought and looked at it in different ways.” She leaned against Adam. “I want to be with you here in Butternut Creek all the time but I have that expensive business in Austin.”