Going to the Chapel

by Janet Tronstad

  Aunt Inga takes a deep breath. I can hear her inhale over the phone. Then she lets it out. “The crocheting is just to keep me busy so I won’t worry. I just feel like I should be doing something and I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Well, what you shouldn’t do is worry. Nothing good comes from worrying.”

  “How can I not worry? You see, the wedding planner made the deposits for everything and showed Ruth the receipts. The invitations were all printed with the church on them and everything. Who knew the wedding planner could cancel all of the deposits last week and get the money back in checks? She forged Aunt Ruth’s signature and cashed them. By now, she’s gone off to who knows where? Some island probably.”

  “What?”

  “Nineteen thousand dollars and she took it all with her so I’m sure she can afford a trip to some island. Ruth has been lying down with a cold washcloth on her head ever since it happened. Of course, she’s in the living room, because Howard locked himself in the bedroom and won’t let anyone else come in. I don’t think he knew how much Ruth had already spent on the wedding.”

  Uncle Howard wasn’t alone in that. Nineteen thousand dollars. Wow. I knew from the bragging Elaine had done that the wedding was going to be expensive, but Elaine could buy a car with that. Of course, Uncle Howard had bought her a new car last Christmas so I guess she doesn’t need a car like I do, but still that’s a lot of money.

  I swallow. “Well, I’m sure the police will find the wedding planner and get the money back.”

  “Even if we got the money back today, there’s no place for the wedding now. The date that we had reserved at that beautiful church has already been given away and the wedding coordinator at the church refused to tell the other people that Ruth had booked there first. The coordinator said she was following policy and the other people had been on a waiting list and they won’t budge. So, there’s no church in Palm Springs for a wedding until next March. Gary lined up his internship this past week. He can’t put off marrying Elaine until March.”

  Okay, so now that red ball of emotions is really jumping around. I mean, I hope Elaine gets to have her big day; it’s just nice to know that no one’s going to be scrutinizing me on that day and wondering why I’m not following in Elaine’s rose-strewn path.

  “There’s the church in Blythe,” I say. I know Aunt Ruth would consider that a step-down, but it’s not a bad church. Granted, it’s a little old and the carpet needs replacing, but every church can’t be a showplace.

  “Remember that remodeling project the church was raising money for?” Aunt Inga asks.

  “All the bake sales?”

  “That’s the one. It’s happening now. The church is all torn up inside. We aren’t even meeting there for regular church services now.”

  I can afford to be generous. “Well, I’m sure Elaine will find someplace nice for her wedding.”

  Aunt Inga is silent a little longer this time. “I told everyone about the chapel where you work. How the ivy grows up the walls and there are roses all around and that the movie stars come there. Elaine even stopped crying at the mention of movie stars.”

  “Oh, but my chapel isn’t—I mean—Elaine wouldn’t want to have her wedding at the place where I work.”

  “She’s desperate.”

  Not as desperate as I am about now. “Can’t she have it in the place where your church is meeting while the remodeling is going on? I know you must be meeting somewhere.”

  “We’re using the school gym on Sunday mornings before the basketball team has their practice.”

  “Oh.”

  I don’t have the nerve to suggest it, but apparently Aunt Inga thought of it anyway because she continues, “The coach said there is a basketball clinic during Thanksgiving weekend so there’s no time for a wedding. Especially not on the Friday evening after Thanksgiving.”

  I take a deep breath. This can’t be happening. “But I’m new at my job. The boss won’t just let me use the place. Besides, it’s probably already booked.”

  “You could ask….”

  The red ball in my stomach is sinking like a hundred-pound bowling ball. I am forever in Aunt Inga’s debt. Not that she’s ever asked me for much in return for supporting me since I was five years old.

  “I’m pretty sure it won’t work…” I swallow. That red ball is sitting like lead in my stomach. “Of course, I’ll ask but I don’t think—”

  “Just asking is the important thing,” Aunt Inga says with the kind of confidence that lets me know that she has no doubt it will all work out. “Elaine is wondering if you have one of those Elvis impersonators at your chapel.”

  “Tell her we don’t have any impersonators.”

  “But you must have people who sing at your place.”

  “Sure, there are some vocalists that we use, but they’re mostly—ah—slower than Elvis. They do a lot of hymns.” I don’t mention that Mr. Strett, the male vocalist at the Big M, got a little tipsy at the last funeral he worked and was even slower than usual as he sang about gathering at the river.

  “Most of the people who use your place must be older then.”

  “That’s right,” I say in relief. “I really think Elaine would like someplace else better.”

  “Elaine says the gym smells like dirty socks.”

  “Well, of course, not the gym, but there must be someplace else she could use. How about the hotel where they had the engagement party? Elaine could have a small wedding there. I thought the place was very nice.”

  “They told Ruth she was never to come to their place again,” Aunt Inga says indignantly. “Not even for lunch.”

  “Oh.”

  “I think some of their staff quit after the party we had there. They said Ruth made them wax the floor and then she complained that it was too slippery.”

  “There have to be other hotels in Palm Springs,” I say. “That one isn’t the only nice place there.”

  Aunt Inga is silent. “I think the hotel people all talk to each other.”

  “Oh.”

  “No one said yes we could come,” Aunt Inga says. “All because of that wax on the floor. And maybe the problem with the punch cups. Or maybe the stuffed mushrooms Ruth sent back to the kitchen. I can’t believe they would make such a fuss over a few little things. Every mother wants her daughter’s engagement party to be perfect.”

  “Wow.” This can’t be good. Not even I mess up that badly. I never thought Aunt Ruth and I would have anything in common. “Everyone said no?”

  “I’m going to pray for your boss, what’s his name?” Aunt Inga asks me a question instead of answering my question. Although, I guess there’s no need to answer my question. It’s all too obvious.

  “We call him Mr. Z,” I say.

  Cassie has been sitting on the floor and watching me. She has looked a little puzzled for a while. Probably because of the Elvis reference. Once I mention Mr. Z though, she smiles encouragingly. She thinks I’m going to tell Aunt Inga about where I work. But I can’t tell Aunt Inga, not now.

  “What kind of name is Mr. Z?” Aunt Inga asks. “He’s not a movie star, is he? Elaine would really like it if a movie star came to her wedding. Maybe it would make up for some of these last minute problems.”

  “No, Mr. Z is not a movie star. It’s just a nickname.”

  “Oh.” Aunt Inga brightens anyway. “Well, a man with a funny nickname must be a nice man even if he’s not in the movies.”

  “He’s very nice.”

  “And you promise you’ll ask?”

  “I promise.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Good,” Aunt Inga says with satisfaction in her voice. “I told Ruth we would work everything out. The family’s counting on you.”

  Only I know how much Aunt Ruth must hate asking me for help. Well, I guess my mother would know, too. And her mother before her.

  Suddenly, I realize Aunt Inga said we’ll work it out. That word we covers a lot of t
erritory. “Did Aunt Ruth say she wanted my help?”

  “She needs your help,” Aunt Inga says. “It doesn’t matter what she says.”

  It matters to me. “Unless she asks me, I don’t think I should be getting into her business.”

  “This is family business,” Aunt Inga says. “We’re all family.”

  Aunt Inga never knew all of the times Elaine called me her half cousin when we were growing up. Even then I knew Aunt Inga felt pulled apart with her love for me and my mother on one side and her love for her own family on the other. No one should ever have half families. Sometimes I think even a stepfamily has it easier. At least with a step, you’re going forward. With a half, you’re coming apart.

  “I’ll call when I know anything,” I finally just say. It is pointless to upset Aunt Inga by refusing to ask Mr. Z when I already know the answer has to be no.

  I can see Cassie is puzzled. Either that or she’s looking worried because I’m probably turning a little green.

  “Well, I better get back to my crocheting,” Aunt Inga says. “How many petals do you need for the aisle anyway? I have sixty-four.”

  “That sounds like plenty,” I say. “Don’t strain your eyes with all that crocheting.”

  “I won’t. You’re sure you’ll call tomorrow?”

  “I’ll call.”

  I stand still and just hold the receiver in my hand after Aunt Inga has hung up.

  “Are you okay?” Cassie asks.

  “I’m doomed.”

  Cassie is worried about me so I tell her about the conversation I just had with Aunt Inga.

  “Of course, Elaine’s wedding is planned for Thanksgiving weekend so there’s probably already a funeral booked,” Cassie says to be comforting.

  “There will be a funeral,” I agree. “It’s eleven days away yet so the person is probably not even dead at this point, but someone will want to be buried then.”

  Surely someone will die a week or so from now. That’s one of the challenging things about the funeral business. No one plans too far ahead. Although Mr. Z does have a prepaid plan that is popular with people, no one actually schedules their funeral in advance like couples do who are planning a wedding. Actually, if the Big M were a wedding chapel, it would probably not even have an open date for Elaine’s wedding. I’m surprised Aunt Ruth didn’t think of that. I guess Aunt Ruth is too desperate to think. She’s probably still hoping that one of those Palm Springs hotels will decide she’s not so bad to deal with after all.

  “Maybe you should call Doug,” Cassie says.

  “He won’t know if there will be a funeral in eleven days,” I say in surprise.

  “No, but he sounded like he was under a lot of stress when I talked to him,” Cassie said. “I know he’s young, but stress isn’t good for anyone.”

  I’m sure Cassie was thinking about the man I talked to at the Big M this morning. His name was Robert Cameron and he said almost those same words about his brother, James, who had died unexpectedly. The two brothers hadn’t talked to each other for three years because they’d had an argument over their mother’s will.

  Robert shook his head as we talked about what he wanted for the final viewing arrangements for James. Robert kept talking about their argument as if he couldn’t let go of it. He said that, if he had known the stress his brother was under because of problems with his business, he would have given James every single dime of both of their shares of the estate just to ease his troubles. Robert said he’d rather have his brother around than all of the money in the world. He didn’t know why they had been fighting so long about it all anyway. They’d wasted some of their best years together.

  “I’ll call Doug in the morning,” I say. I don’t tell Cassie, but I’ll even apologize to him just to show him how civilized I can be. “And I’ll do what Aunt Inga wants and ask Mr. Z about using the mortuary.”

  All of this worrying about people dying is getting to me.

  “The mortuary is a beautiful place,” Cassie says. “With all those roses, the courtyard would be a lovely place to get married.”

  “It’s an even better place to have a funeral. It’s probably not booked now, but Mr. Z knows it will be booked so he’ll say it will be busy that weekend.”

  “But what will Elaine do?” Cassie is worrying the way she does over people, even Elaine.

  “I don’t know. There’s got to be a big hotel or something around here. And, if not that, we can try parks. People have had beautiful weddings in parks and there have to be dozens of parks in Los Angeles.”

  “Would they let her put up a tent or something?” Cassie asks.

  I sigh. “Probably not. And I can’t see Elaine doing a picnic-style wedding where all of the guests sit on the ground behind some trees. For one thing, she wouldn’t have an aisle.”

  “Oh, she has to have an aisle. The most important part of the place where you get married is the aisle. You have to be able to walk down an aisle so you can be given away by your parents.”

  Cassie is starting to look as though she might cry. I know it’s not about Elaine’s wedding anymore.

  “I bet your mom didn’t want to give you away when you were born,” I say because I know where Cassie’s thoughts are going. I remember all those times we played wedding years ago.

  “If my mom hadn’t wanted to give me away, wouldn’t she have already registered with those adoption places?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she doesn’t know about them.” I know it’s not much comfort.

  Cassie and I sit there for a while in the quiet of her apartment. This is one reason Cassie and I are so close. We both know the aches of each other’s hearts so well we can just sit together with our feelings. I wished I could give Cassie some encouragement, but I’ve wondered, too, why her mother wasn’t registered at any of the agencies. I wonder sometimes if her mother is dead, but I’ve never said anything to Cassie. That would crush all of her hope. At least I know where my mother is even if it has been weeks since we’ve talked on the phone.

  I scoot a little closer to Cassie and pick up the bag of dirt she’s been using. “That begonia plant you brought home needs pruning.”

  We spend the rest of the evening taking care of Cassie’s plants.

  Chapter Five

  I call Doug on my cell phone while I am taking the bus to work on Tuesday. I know Doug likes to get into the hospital early so he can eat breakfast in the cafeteria before his 10:00 shift begins for the day. He told me that much on our drive to Palm Springs for Elaine’s party.

  I hear the call go through and then a voice answers, “Doug here.”

  Okay. The sun is shining into the bus windows so brightly that I squint. The bus must have gone through a car wash of some kind recently because usually the coat of dirt on the windows keeps the sun from bothering my eyes. “Hi. This is Julie—Julie White.”

  “Hey, how’s it going?”

  Doug’s voice isn’t warm, but it’s not cold, either. It sounds restrained. I try not to think about what that might mean.

  “Good. I’m good.” I’m sitting on the backseat of this Metro bus and there aren’t a lot of other people around me. My work hours start a little later than those of most commuters so the big crush of workers has already been bussed to wherever they need to be. Still I look around to be sure I have some privacy for my apology. There’s a girl two seats ahead of me, but she has headphones on so she can’t hear me.

  I decide to dive in. “Yeah, well, I’m calling about the other day at my cousin’s party last week. I wanted to say I’m—”

  “I’m sorry,” he interrupts. He pauses for a second and I wonder if we’ve lost the connection. “I didn’t realize what I was doing when I left that party until Cassie explained it.”

  He actually sounds sincere.

  “What did Cassie say exactly?”

  “Nothing that I shouldn’t have figured out if I’d been thinking. I hadn’t realized that you had been raised by your aunt.”

  “Th
at’s not a big deal.” I don’t like people knowing my mother left me so I don’t go around announcing the fact that my aunt Inga had to raise me instead. Still, it’s nothing for Doug to worry about.

  “It is a big deal,” Doug says. “I know. I was raised by my aunts, too, so I know something about how that feels. It’s always made me a little touchy about things like family get-togethers.”

  “Oh.” I’m not so sure I want to share the same problem with Doug. It’s not so easy to be angry with someone if you share even one trouble with them.

  “I know your situation was different because you got to stay with just one of your aunts,” he says.

  I’m glad he realizes we didn’t really have the same problem. “My aunt Inga is great.”

  “That’s what Cassie said. I rotated between three of my aunts.”

  Wow, I had never thought about it, but that is what could have happened to me. There was nothing that required Aunt Inga to keep me full-time. She could have asked Aunt Ruth to take me part of the year and Aunt Gladys to take me the other part. I wouldn’t have known where I was living if that had happened. Besides, I would have felt torn apart. The only thing I know of that the aunts would have all agreed on was that it was such a shame my mother was wasting her life and neglecting her duty to me. Imagine hearing that from three different households, two of which viewed you as only halfway part of their family.

  “So maybe you can understand why I didn’t do so good talking to your aunt,” Doug says. “I was telling her the truth when I said I had a thing about commitments. Even the word makes me uptight. And all those relatives there.”

  My mind has already left the problems of Elaine’s party. Now that I know our problems weren’t completely the same, I am starting to feel a little compassion for Doug. “Where did you even keep your clothes? With all that moving around?”

  I know from my own experience how important clothes and stuff are when you’re going to school.

  “I usually just kept my suitcase packed.”

  “Wow.” I guess I can see why he’d have a commitment problem. “But shouldn’t all of that moving around have made you the reverse? Shouldn’t you want to be committed to someone? I mean not me. But someone with a closet.”