The Fifty-Cent Groom

by Karen Toller Whittenburg

  “Gypsy,” Sara said in a voice of measurable relief. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear from you. I need to borrow your car.” There was a pause. “It isn’t? You’re not? Where are you?” She caught Ben’s eye and mouthed the word hospital. Then she said it aloud, as if the meaning just dawned on her. “Hospital? But the baby isn’t due for another week! Okay, yes, I know babies can come early, but…Well, of course, I’m excited and I’ll be there as soon as…Oh, that long? I guess I’ll call you from the church, then… The Randolph wedding, that’s right…Yes…And you’re sure Kevin is on his way from the office? I know he wouldn’t miss this…Gypsy? Please don’t name the baby Tadpole.” She replaced the phone receiver in the wall cradle and turned to Ben with a dazed and wondering expression. “Gypsy is having a baby.”

  “That’s good news.”

  “Yes, but…a baby. A real baby. That’s such an enormous responsibility, and Gypsy is so…inexperienced.”

  Ben smiled. “I read somewhere that with the birth of the baby, the mother is born.”

  Sara nodded, then sighed. “I suppose if the baby is lucky, that’s true.” She moved toward him, reaching for the cabinet door, but then her eyes met his and awareness flooded the kitchen like morning light. Startled, she withdrew her hand and smoothed her palm down the front of her dress. “I can’t imagine that I would be very good at mothering.”

  “I can’t imagine that you wouldn’t.” They would have a baby, he decided. An auburn-haired bundle of surprises, like her mother. The future was beginning to form in his mind with the luster of reality, and he knew he was a lucky, lucky man. “When the time comes, of course.”

  “Time.” She glanced at the clock. “I’ve got to hurry. I wonder how long it will take to get a taxi over here. Maybe I could page Jason…”

  Ben took her hand and led her to the front door while she continued to sort aloud through her options, trying to form a plan. Her frustration had barely warmed the morning air before he had her by the elbow and was escorting her to the only vehicle in sight. “We’ll take my motorcycle,” he said. “She’s not pretty, but she’s fast.”

  “I can’t ride in that.”

  “The sidecar? Sure you can. Cleo does it all the time. You’ll have to wear a helmet, but at least I’ll get you to the church on time.”

  “Look at this dress. Even with the kick pleat in the back, there is no way I can get this skirt high enough on my thighs to let me step into that thing, much less ride comfortably.”

  “Who said anything about comfort?” Ben asked. “This is strictly transportation. No frills, no touches of luxury. Just plenty of thrills and the pulse of a powerful engine.”

  “And the wind in my hair. I can’t arrive at the wedding on a motorcycle.”

  “In a sidecar. There is a difference.”

  She arched her brows in denial.

  “Suit yourself, but it’s here and available.”

  She looked at the cycle with distaste. “I have a feeling I’m going to really regret this.”

  “What would life be without a few regrets? Hike up your skirt and climb in. I promise, you’re going to love this.”

  SHE DIDN’T LOVE wind whistling past the helmet he insisted she wear. And she didn’t love the rattle and clatter of the sidecar bumping over the road. And she did not love the roar of the engine in her ears. But, other than that, the motorcycle ride was exciting.

  There had to be an easier way to transport a wedding gown from the dry cleaner to the church, though. And there was undoubtedly a better method of dressing for this mode of travel. But she did have a great view. From this perspective, the traffic around them seemed like lumbering crates, all closed up and limiting. And when she turned her head ever so slightly, she could study Ben in profile, all the way from his classically chiseled chin past the T-shirt and jeans he was wearing to the tip of his scuffed black boot.

  A funny tickle of a feeling stirred in her stomach. A feeling she quickly labeled physical appeal and shelved with other such fleeting attractions. But her mind kept returning to the image of a hospital, a woman, her husband, waiting for their baby to be born. She tried to insist to herself that it was Gypsy and Kevin she imagined, but the picture she saw was of herself, holding a dark-haired, green-eyed baby while Ben stood by, holding both of their hands.

  Which was about the most ridiculous thing she could be thinking at the moment. Her life had taken a sudden sharp turn, and it was up to her to see that it got back on track without further delay. Alicia Randolph’s wedding would go off without a hitch, because Sara had planned it to perfection. And she would be there—slightly behind schedule—to make sure everything went as planned. After that, she’d visit Gypsy, Kevin and the new little Collins. She paused in her planning to send up a little prayer on the baby’s behalf. Please don’t let her name this baby. Let Kevin give all the information for the birth certificate.

  After that, she’d do the bank deposit and drop it in the night depository. And after that, she would sit down and think about how to salvage the damage she’d done to her relationship with West. The moment was fast approaching when she would have to face him and the consequences of her impulsive actions, if only because she had to pick up that silly wedding dress so Ben could finally be on his way.

  He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave. Probably glad to have a little extra cash in his pockets. But the wedding gown would have to be delivered to its intended bride sooner or later, even if the thought of Ben’s leaving bothered her more than she cared to admit. He was just a guy. A nice, attractive, easy-to-be-with, resourceful guy, who had arrived on her doorstep at the wrong moment. Any kind of love-at-first-sight thing was pure fantasy. It didn’t happen. And even if it did, she wouldn’t consider a relationship with Ben, charming as he was. The last thing she needed in her life was a down-on-his-luck, unemployed adventurer.

  The motorcycle changed lanes and Sara got plastered with a face full of Alicia Randolph’s wedding gown. She fought with the wind, pressing one section of the billowing, plastic-covered wedding dress into her lap, only to have to struggle with another section that popped up. When she finally got everything tucked away out of the wind, she realized they’d missed their exit.

  She tugged on Ben’s sleeve, pointed, and he nodded. A moment later, the motorcycle picked up speed, dodged across the right lane of traffic and rocketed down the next exit ramp. At least, Sara hoped it was the ramp. She couldn’t see for having to swat bridal gown out of her face.

  “WELL, WELL, WELL. It’s a small world, isn’t it?” The police officer had pulled them over two blocks from the church. The same patrolman from the night before. A slightly more rumpled uniform. A little dirt on his boots. A definite edge of irritability in his voice. A vindictive gleam in his eyes. “Here I am, on my way to the station after a long night, and I see this blur of wedding gown fly by,” he said. “And I think, what are the chances that’s the same runaway bride I so gallantly tried to escort to the Methodist church just last night?” He looked at Sara with a sly smile. “And what do you know? It is the happy couple. Now, don’t tell me you’re still looking for the church.”

  “As a matter of fact, we are.” Sara met his condescension with a haughty lift of her chin. “And it’s very important that we aren’t delayed,”

  “Really.” He tapped the toe of his boot against the Harley’s back tire. “Nice bike,” he said to Ben. “Where’d you get it?”

  “Tennessee.”

  “Bet it cost a penny or two.”

  “Three, actually.”

  The officer turned his humorless gaze to Sara in the sidecar, making her feel both anxious and annoyed at the same time. “What happened to the van you were driving the last time I stopped you? It was your van, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded impatiently. “It’s mine, and there’s something wrong with it.”

  “You don’t say.” The policeman shook his head in mock sympathy. “You mean something other than being stuck up to its fenders in wh
at was once a beautiful lawn?”

  Surprise slackened her jaw, but Sara rallied. “You…know about that?”

  “Yeah. I got the call sometime after three o’clock this morning. It seems that one of Mr. Ridgeman’s neighbors woke up to the sound of gently lapping waves…kind of like the ocean, you know. As it turns out, water from Mr. Ridgeman’s busted sprinkler flooded his yard and filled up the drainage ditch, which then overflowed and flooded the neighbor’s house.” He chuckled. “I’m tellin’ you, it’s an unholy mess over there. Now, I can’t tell you what to do, but I will suggest that it wouldn’t be a good idea to try to pick up your van today. Mr. Ridgeman was, uh… Let’s just say, if you go anywhere near that house anytime soon, you’ll be takin’ your life into your own hands.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “I guess he’s sort of angry.”

  The officer’s lips curved. “Oh, yeah. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard that kind of language spoken with such impact.”

  “Did he cuss?”

  “Nope. He used a lot of big words that sounded seriously legal, though. I expect you’ll be hearing from his lawyer real soon.”

  Her mouth went dry. “He is a lawyer.”

  The patrolman’s eyebrows rose. “In that case, I’d advise you to put your affairs in order.”

  “It’s been a pleasure talking with you, Officer,” Ben said. “But we do have a wedding to get to, and we are in somewhat of a hurry.”

  “Uh-huh. Get out your papers for this vehicle. I’ll just run the registration through the computer and make sure you didn’t get somethin’ for nothin’. If you know what I mean.”

  The line of Ben’s jaw tightened, but he produced the necessary document. The patrolman took it and strolled to his car. Ben looked at her with a half smile. “I have a feeling this could take awhile.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t have ducked away from his escort last night.” She glanced back, knowing this delay could stretch on and on, tasting the bitter truth that West would never forgive her, that her plans for a future with him had drowned in one disastrous twinkle. “Maybe if I offered to do community service, he’d let us go. I could teach driving school or something.”

  Ben’s lips curved with a wry tenderness. “I’m not sure that would be considered community service. I suspect the delay will arise from the episode at Ridgeman’s. The patrolman is probably checking to see if any charges are going to be filed.”

  “For damages, you mean.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Ridgeman isn’t going to sue you. You’ve seen him naked.”

  “That makes a difference?”

  “Absolutely. Lawyers never want to be seen without their briefs.” She rolled her eyes at his pun, and he grinned. “I learned that the first day of law school.”

  “I wish you hadn’t dropped out. I have a feeling I’m going to need someone on my side.”

  He leaned toward her and touched the back of his hand to her cheek…and hurt her heart with his gentleness. “Sara, I’ll be on your side until the last threads of my briefs unravel. And you can count on that.”

  “Thanks, Ben. You don’t know how much I appreciate that, but at the moment, I’d rather count on getting a police escort to the church.”

  Surprise deepened the green of his eyes. “I suppose you’re just going to sashay back there and explain to the officer that you’re late and you require his assistance.”

  “Mostly just his siren.” She handed the plastic-wrapped bridal gown to Ben. “At this point, I can’t think of a thing I have to lose by asking.” Pulling her skirt above her knees, she stepped out of the sidecar and headed for the patrol car.

  “SARA! YOU’RE almost an hour late!” Mrs. Randolph, the mother of the bride, met her at the church doors. “Alicia is frantic! What were you doing in that police car? I thought the church was on fire when I heard the siren! I just know this is going to be a disaster. I told Alicia if you didn’t show up she should call off the wedding. This isn’t a good omen, you know.”

  Bridal gown in hand, Sara entered the church and soothed Mrs. Randolph with calm assurances that everything would be perfect. Just the way they’d planned. Everything was set up, the flowers in place, the tables decorated in the church’s fellowship hall where a reception would take place after the ceremony. It was perfectly understandable that the mother of the bride would be concerned by the wedding coordinator’s late arrival, but there was no need to worry. She had been unfortunately delayed by a slight misunderstanding with the policeman. But he had been persuaded to escort her to the church and she was here now. There was no point, Sara thought, in divulging how many hours she would be contributing to the annual fund-raiser for the policeman’s auxiliary. A small price to pay for getting to the church on time, Ben had said before she was whisked away in the officer’s speedy black-and-white patrol car, siren blaring, Ben following on the Harley.

  When Sara entered the room where Alicia Randolph waited to change clothes, the bride-to-be took one look at the gown in Sara’s hands and burst into nervous tears. “It’s here,” she said. “You brought it.”

  Sara thought if anyone had a right to a good dose of tears it would be her, and if she wasn’t crying, no one else was going to, either. “Of course, I brought the dress,” she said matter-of-factly as she pulled the plastic off the gown. “You didn’t really think I wouldn’t, did you?”

  “Well, I…”

  “No tears allowed. This is your wedding day, remember?”

  Alicia smiled mistily. “It is, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and it will be perfect.” Sara began helping her into the wedding dress. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

  FIVE HOURS LATER, Sara thought maybe there had been some basis for her confidence. The wedding ceremony had been perfect. The photography session relatively quick and painless. The reception at the church went as smoothly as possible, considering that it was not a catered affair and that the servers were all volunteers, by virtue of being somehow kin to the bride.

  Rubbing a nagging ache in her left shoulder, Sara watched the bride and groom make their way past family and friends and a shower of birdseed. She wished she had been able to convince Alicia and her mother that a reception at a rented hall or a country club would have been much nicer. But they insisted on a one-stop wedding and reception at the church the family regularly attended. Now, Sara was left with the responsibility of putting the church back in order. An unaccustomed task and one she didn’t relish.

  It would take a half hour for the last of the guests to disperse. Another half hour before the bride’s family finally walked out the door. For some reason, the mother of the bride seemed to think she needed to stay until the bitter end, making certain Sara didn’t need further assistance. She had assured so many mothers, so many times, that she knew how to do her job, but it never seemed to make any difference.

  As the solid, matronly Mrs. Randolph waved a final goodbye to her daughter, Sara braced for an onslaught of unnecessary reminders. An half hour later, she was still trying to hustle the woman out of the church.

  “The groomsmen left their tuxedoes in the minister’s study. You won’t forget to return them to Mr. Formal Rentals, will you?” Mrs. Randolph scanned the sanctuary for an overlooked rose petal or one of the numerous Order of Ceremony bulletins that had littered the pews before Sara gathered them up. “And the candelabrum have to be at the florists no later than 10:00 a.m. Monday.”

  She acknowledged the information with a nod. “I’ll make sure everything is returned on time and in good condition, Mrs. Randolph. Really, there is no need for you to worry.”

  “I know. You’ve handled everything beautifully. It’s just hard…” A tear glistened in the mother’s eye. “I’m going to miss her so much.”

  Sara commiserated with a weary smile and bit her tongue to keep from mentioning that, after a weeklong honeymoon, the new Mrs. Beggman would be living less than a mile away from her mother. “I’m sure it’s difficult to let her go,” she said in
stead. “But you must be very proud of her. She looked beautiful today.”

  That brought a smile through the tears. “She did, didn’t she?”

  “Yes. And you have a new son-in-law. Won’t that be nice?”

  The smile vanished. “He’s a moron, no matter what Alicia says about him. But I won’t go into that. I’m sure you could see for yourself what a total nincompoop he is.”

  “Mr. Randolph seems to like him.”

  “Mr. Randolph is also a moron.” The woman sighed brusquely, as if she alone in all the world was surrounded by nincompoops. “I suppose I should go and find him. No telling where he’s taken himself off to.”

  “I believe he’s sitting outside in the car…waiting for you.”

  “You see what I mean? What sane person would sit in a hot car rather than stay inside where it’s airconditioned?”

  Sara wanted to raise her hand, but she grasped Mrs. Randolph’s elbow—lightly, but firmly—and walked with her to the door. “You go on home and relax,” she said. “You can trust me to take care of everything here.”

  “All right, if you say so. I am a little tired.” At last she stepped outside and Sara almost got the door closed. “Oh, Sara? I forgot to bring your check, but I’ll put it in the mail first thing Monday morning.”

  With that bit of daunting information, the mother of the bride walked briskly across the parking lot to the car in which the nincompoop waited.

  After locking the door, Sara checked the sanctuary one last time before she turned out the lights and hurried down a long hall to the large gathering room where the reception had been held.

  Ben was nowhere to be seen, but he had obviously been here. The room had been returned to its original order. Chairs and tables were folded and stacked against a wall. The decorations were packed. The plates, silverware, cups and glasses she had borrowed from the church’s kitchen were washed and put away. The tablecloths and napkins, also borrowed from the church as a substitute for the linens she had left in the van, were piled by the back door. She’d have them cleaned, of course, and return them later. Everything else was done.