Berry seemed like a nice guy, and it was pleasant to stand with him while we waited for the players to assemble. I was not much of a person for small talk, and Berry didn’t seem to mind, which was refreshing. He took his time poking around conversationally for some common ground, found it in dislike of movie theaters and love of weight lifting, which he’d enjoyed in college.
I was wearing the white dress with the black jacket. At the last minute my mother had insisted I needed some color besides my lipstick, a point I was willing to concede. She’d put a filmy scarf in autumn reds and golds around my neck and anchored it with the gold pin I’d brought.
“You look very nice,” Dill said, on one of his pass-bys. He and Varena seemed to be awfully nervous and were inventing errands to send them pacing around the small church. We were all hovering near the front, since the back was in darkness beyond the last pew. The door close to the pulpit, opening into a hall leading past the minister’s study, gave a pneumatic hiss as people came and went. The heavier door beyond the big open area at the back of the church thudded from time to time as the members of the wedding party assembled.
Finally, everyone was there. Varena; Tootsie; me; the other bridesmaid, Janna Russell; my mother and father; Jess and Lou O’Shea, the one in his capacity as minister and the other in her capacity as church organist; Dill; Berry Duff; Dill’s unmarried younger brother Jay; a cousin of Dill’s, Matthew Kingery; the florist who’d been hired to supply the wedding flowers, who would double as wedding director; and miracle of miracles, Dill’s mother, Lula. Watching the relief spread over Varena’s face as the old woman stomped in on Jay’s arm made me want to take Lula Kingery aside and have a few sharp words with her.
I watched the woman closely while the florist was giving the assembled group some directions. It didn’t take long to conclude that Dill’s mother was a few bricks short of a load. She was inappropriately dressed (a short-sleeved floral housedress with a hole in it, high heels with rhinestone buckles), which was in itself no clear signal of mental derangement, but when you added the ensemble to her out-of-the-ballpark questions (“Do I have to walk down the aisle too?”) and her constant hand and eye movement, the sum total was significant.
Well. So Dill’s family had a skeleton, too.
Notch one up for my family. At least I could pretty much be relied on to do the right thing, if I actually made an appearance. Dill’s mom was definitely a loose cannon.
Varena was handling Mrs. Kingery with amazing tact and kindness. So were my parents. I felt a proprietary swell of pride at my folks’ goodness and had to resume my conversation with Berry Duff to cover the rush of emotion.
After even more last-minute toing and froing, the rehearsal began. Patsy Green, the florist, gathered us together and gave us our marching orders. We took our positions to walk through the ceremonial paces.
Getting the cues straight from Lou O’Shea on the organ, an usher escorted Mrs. Kingery to her place at the front of the church. Then my mother was guided to her front pew on the other side.
While I clustered with the other bridesmaids at the back of the church, Jess O’Shea came in from the hall that ran in front of his office to the church sanctuary. He went to the top of the steps in front of the altar and stood there smiling. Dill entered the sanctuary from the same door, accompanied by Berry, who grinned at me. Then I walked down the aisle, listening with one ear to the florist’s adjuration to walk slowly and smoothly.
I always walk smoothly.
She reminded me to smile.
Jay Kingery came in from the hall, and Janna started down the aisle. Then the groomsman, cousin Matthew, took his place, and Tootsie did her long walk. I set off on cue, with Patsy Green hissing “Smile!” at my back.
Then the piece de resistance. Varena came down the aisle on my father’s arm, and she looked flushed and happy. So did Dad. Dill was beaming like a fool at his bride. Berry raised an eyebrow at me, and I felt my mouth twitch in response.
“That went well!” Patsy Green called from the back of the church. She began walking toward us, and we all turned to listen to her comments. I wasn’t at all surprised it had fallen into place, since almost everyone in the party was old enough to have played a role in a score of weddings and been a major participant in a daunting number.
My attention drifted, and I began looking around the church, the one I’d attended every Sunday as a child. The walls always seemed newly painted a brilliant white, and the carpet was always replaced with same deep green as the cushions on the pews. The high ceiling always made me think up-space, infinity, the omnipotent unknown.
I heard a little cough and brought my gaze down from the infinite to stare into the pews. Someone was in the shadows at the back of the church. My heart started pounding in an uncomfortable way. Before I had formed a thought, I began to walk down the steps and the long strip of green carpet. I didn’t even feel my feet moving.
He stood up and moved to the door.
At the moment I reached him, he opened the door for me, and we stepped out into the cold night. In one move, he pulled me to him and kissed me.
“Jack,” I said when I could breathe, “Jack.”
My hands went under his suit coat to touch his back through his striped shirt.
He kissed me again. His hands tightened on me, pressed me harder against his body.
“Glad to see me,” I observed after a while. My breathing was not even.
“Yeah,” he said hoarsely.
I pulled away a little to look at him. “You’re wearing a tie.”
“I knew you’d be dressed up. I had to look as nice as you.”
“You a psychic detective?”
“Just a damn good one.”
“Umhum. What are you doing in Bartley?”
“You don’t think I’m here just to see you?”
“No.”
“You’re almost wrong.”
“Almost?” I felt a mixture of relief and disappointment.
“Yes, ma’am. Last week, I was clearing off my desk so I could come down here to lend you some moral support-or maybe morale support-when I got a call from an old friend of mine.”
“And?”
“Can I tell you later? Say, at my motel room?”
“That was your car I saw! How long have you been here?” For a moment I wondered if Jack had revealed his presence just because he’d figured I’d identify his car sooner or later, in a town the size of Bartley.
“Since yesterday. Later? God, you look good,” he said, and his mouth traveled down my neck. His fingers pulled the scarf away from my neck. Despite the cold, I began to have that warmth that meant I was just as glad to see him, especially after the horrors of the day.
“OK, I’ll come by to hear your story, but it’ll have to be after the rehearsal dinner,” I said firmly. I gasped a second later. “No, Jack. This is my sister’s wedding. This is a have-to.”
“I admire a woman who sticks to her principles.” His voice was low and rough.
“Will you come in and meet my family?”
“That’s why I’m wearing the suit.”
I looked up at him with some suspicion. Jack is a little older than I am and four inches taller. In the security lights of the church parking lot, I could see that he had his black hair brushed back into a neat ponytail, as usual. He has a beautiful thin, prominent nose, and his lips are thin and sculpted. Jack used to be a Memphis policeman, until he left the force after his involvement in an unsavory and bloody scandal.