The Wedding Circle

by Ashton Lee

  Locke rested his fork on his plate and turned her way. “Maybe this isn’t the time and place to discuss this, Voncille.”

  “Perhaps not. But there are all sorts of complications when too many characters are involved in anything, whether it’s in a novel or real life,” she answered. “Locke Jr. and Carla are determined to keep us apart, and I don’t like the feeling of being the villain in all of this.”

  “But you aren’t. They are!” Locke protested.

  “That doesn’t stop me from feeling the way I feel!”

  “Maybe we’re wandering off the subject a bit here,” Maura Beth said, mindful of her role as the even-tempered moderator. “Perhaps we should get back to the plot of our read here.”

  But Miss Voncille had evidently touched a nerve, and Periwinkle stepped in to pick up on her theme. “I think Voncille makes a good point, though. When Harlan and I got married, I know I thought I was living a fairy tale. I was a princess, he was my prince, and the entire universe revolved around us. Okay, so maybe there wasn’t the sort of plotting and horse trading that went on in The Robber Bridegroom, but looking back on it all, I can clearly see that I wasn’t near in control of my life as I thought I was. I mean, you get all these gifts and good wishes, and there’s wedding cake and then rice thrown at you when you leave for your honeymoon. You’re on this incredible adrenaline high. But where’s the course you should take for the reality of marriage? Who prepares you for that? I know my mother hugged me, and told me, ‘Everything’ll be just fine, darlin’ girl.’ That’s what she always calls me. But things didn’t turn out to be just fine. I think weddings are like fairy tales, plain and simple. But some of ’em don’t have happy endings.”

  “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Periwinkle, but that seems a little too cynical to me,” Connie said, sounding a bit irritated. “Douglas and I have always worked out our problems, haven’t we?”

  “Work being the operative word,” Douglas agreed.

  “Same for us,” Becca added, gesturing toward her Stout Fella. “I mean, isn’t that the real point of a wedding? The fantasy part fades quickly, but you take that first step and then start the business of working hard at your marriage. At least, that was our approach.”

  Stout Fella nodded with his biggest, most boyish, grin. “Amen! I think I’ve learned that the hard way!”

  Then Maura Beth steeled herself as she saw her mother leaning forward in her chair and frantically waving her hand a few times. She’d witnessed that sense of urgency in her mother’s demeanor many times before, and it was never a good sign. “My opinion is that weddings can be very disappointing if they’re not done right. They have to be thought through and not just thrown together any old place. I’m speaking about propriety and tradition here. And not only that—”

  William Mayhew interrupted, grabbing his wife’s arm and shaking his head. “Cara Lynn . . . don’t. Not here.”

  “No, I’ll have my say,” she continued, clenching her teeth as she loosened his grip. “I haven’t come all this way to be a mousy little wallflower in the background. I’m the mother of the bride, for God’s sake. Unless you’re planning to get married over and over again like Elizabeth Taylor did—and I’m sure she didn’t intend for things to turn out that way—a wedding should be a once-in-a-lifetime affair. It should be unforgettable and beautiful and full of pictures you can paste into an album you can show off to your grandchildren when you get old. It should have the perfect setting. And so what if it costs a lot of money? If you have it, you should spend it—even lavish it on your only daughter. Parents wait all those years to see their children get married and settled in life, and their opinions and ideas should count for something. I don’t see why this is so difficult to understand.”

  Maura Beth closed her eyes while quickly trying to figure a way out of her contentious dilemma. She even briefly imagined Eudora Welty herself overseeing the whole book club meeting from her perch in literary heaven and clucking her tongue in despair. Why, this was nowhere even close to what she had intended to convey with her fanciful novel! So, how had they managed to veer so far off track? It was almost as if Councilman Sparks were in the room again, stirring things up the way only he could manage—but this time wearing a Cara Lynn Mayhew mask. Oh, the irony of it all!

  “Mama, I think we should discuss this later in private,” she finally managed. It was clear from everyone’s downcast facial expressions that they were all very uncomfortable with the latest exchange between mother and daughter.

  Then it was Jeremy’s turn to try to rescue the situation, clearing his throat and speaking very emphatically as he reverted to teaching mode. “Getting back to the novel, I think the plot is a bit on the grisly side at times. First, you have Jamie saving Clement from being murdered and robbed by Mike Fink. Then we learn all about Clement’s past where his first wife and sons were captured and tortured. It’s the sort of fairy tale that stops just short of the blood and gore you’d expect when a giant shows up stomping around and shouting, ‘Fee-fi-fo-fum!’ ”

  Maura Beth’s laugh was clearly forced, but she was grateful for the change of subject. “Good point, Jeremy. Who has something else to add? Come on, now, don’t be shy.”

  Unexpectedly, and before anyone could say anything further, Cara Lynn put her plate down on the floor, sprang up from her chair, and headed toward the door in a huff, her nose way up in the air. “Come on, William. Take me back to that lodge!” she demanded. “I’ve had enough!”

  Maura Beth immediately got to her feet as well. “Wait, Mama. Please don’t leave like this!”

  William turned to his daughter at the last second with a pained expression on his face. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. There’s just not much I can do when she gets this way.” Then he headed after his wife at a fast clip, mumbling unintelligible things under his breath.

  As was the case with nearly every previous meeting of The Cherry Cola Book Club, unforeseen circumstances had brought things to a screeching halt. It never seemed to fail, and no one—not even a stupefied Maura Beth—knew what to do or say for the longest time.

  Finally, Mamie Crumpton, who had been uncharacteristically quiet so far and mainly concentrating on her plate of food, spoke up. “Your mother seems to have a very short fuse, dear.”

  Maura Beth couldn’t help but blush, hanging her head. “Unfortunately, I can’t remember when she didn’t.”

  “I’m afraid this is all my fault, Maura Beth,” Miss Voncille suddenly insisted. “I shouldn’t have wandered onto the subject of marriage the way I did. I should have stuck to reviewing the novel.”

  “I guess I’m equally to blame,” Periwinkle added. “I went on and on about my bad marriage experience, and we weren’t here to talk about that. I think I just added fuel to the fire.”

  But Maura Beth was having none of it. “Nonsense! From the very beginning I’ve encouraged outside-the-box angles for our reviews. If that’s where the discussion led us, then so be it. I just have to apologize to all of you for Mama’s behavior. She’s very upset with me because I won’t see things her way about my wedding. I assure you, this has nothing to do with any of you. She was bound and determined to have her say, no matter what.”

  “If I could, I wanted to say that—well, your mother feels very strongly about this,” Susan McShay offered with some reluctance. “I thought we were getting along so well, but she really got her back up with me last night. I was very surprised at how adamant she was about having a church wedding down in New Orleans. I won’t go into some other things that were said.”

  Maura Beth’s little sigh of resignation summed it all up. “Appearances really can be deceiving, can’t they? I wanted so much to believe that the two of you were getting along famously last night.”

  Susan looked despondent, shifting her weight in her chair. “I wish that had been the case, sweetie. She didn’t even want one of my jewelry catalogues when all was said and done. As a matter of fact, she barely spoke to me all day today.
Just a quick nod at the breakfast table.”

  “I don’t want to sound so pessimistic here, but perhaps it’s just not worth it,” Connie said. “I mean, having your wedding at our lodge out on the deck. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Douglas and I don’t want to be the cause of this kind of friction between you and your parents. We don’t want to have to live with that.”

  “But it’s mostly my mother who’s the problem,” Maura Beth admitted. “She’s tried to make me think that Daddy feels the same way she does, but I don’t think that’s true now. It’s up to me to find a way to resolve all this with her—not you, Connie. You and Douglas are just innocent bystanders.”

  Connie offered her most reassuring smile, reaching over to take Maura Beth’s hand. “We just want you to enjoy your special day, whatever you decide to do.”

  Mamie Crumpton suddenly started chuckling to herself, her generous bosom vibrating all the while. “I can’t speak from experience since I’ve never been married, of course, but listening to all this controversy, it seems to me that the people who elope have the right idea. That way, you don’t give people time to drive you crazy telling you how, when, and where you should get married.”

  “You may have a point there,” Miss Voncille said. “I never thought I’d have to jump through so many hurdles.”

  “As a practical matter, a justice of the peace is just as good as a minister, priest, or rabbi,” Mamie continued. “A little on the drab side, of course, but the ceremony will get the job done—just without the fuss and fanfare.”

  Miss Voncille looked as if she might seriously be considering the suggestion and appeared ready to say something further, but apparently thought better of it and merely shrugged her shoulders at Locke.

  From that point on, Maura Beth tried her best to get the focus back on The Robber Bridegroom, but her heart wasn’t really in it. There was also a lack of enthusiasm among the others, as everyone sensed that the air had been let out of the proceedings. Only Jeremy was able to rise to the occasion with his insights, being the advocate of great literature that he was.

  “I’m a big believer in archetypes,” he said. “And there are plenty of them in The Robber Bridegroom.” But it wasn’t enough to keep interest from flagging even further, as yet another meeting of The Cherry Cola Book Club unexpectedly fell short of expectations.

  Nonetheless, Maura Beth kept things together long enough to propose a couple of titles for their October read; and when the vote was taken, The Member of the Wedding by Carson McCullers won out. “It’s a wonderfully poignant, coming-of-age story,” she told everyone. “Very Southern. Truly heartbreaking—especially for any woman who remembers the low points of her puberty.”

  A bit later, Maura Beth felt both frustrated and guilty as she and Jeremy busied themselves switching off lights and locking up together. “The thing is, I don’t think we adored Eudora in the first-class manner she really deserves. I let everything get out of control, and we practically forgot all about her. Oh, sure, we bandied about a few bits and pieces of the plot, and the food was delicious as usual; but this was definitely not our best Cherry Cola Book Club outing.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think Miss Welty would be gracious enough to understand and forgive us,” he pointed out. “How cool is it that people are still discussing her work long after she’s been gone? I think writers have the best kind of immortality. Don’t get me wrong now—I love my teaching. I wouldn’t want to do anything else with my life. But what I wouldn’t give for a little writing talent myself!”

  Maura Beth turned and gave him an expectant glance. “Have you ever sat down and tried to write? The world is full of people who say they have a novel in them or something like that. But they’re just a lot of talk. They never actually do anything about it.”

  Jeremy suddenly looked a bit sheepish. “Actually, I have. I wrote a couple of short stories once, but I tore them up right after I’d finished. I just didn’t think they were very good.”

  “You didn’t let anybody read them?”

  “Nope.”

  Maura Beth briefly pursed her lips. “Hmmm. Well, my opinion is you should write something else and let me read it this time. As a librarian, I have a very good eye. Maybe you’re better than you think.”

  He considered briefly and exhaled. “Okay, then. Maybe I will. I’ll let you be my critic.”

  “I’d be honored. Now, I’ve got to buckle down and solve my problem. I’m sure you realize I’m going to have to force a showdown with Mama. This tension between us has been building up for years. I’ve got to settle things once and for all. No more putting it off.”

  Outside under the portico, Jeremy paused, and said, “You need me for backup, Maurie?”

  Finally, after an incredibly stressful evening, Maura Beth was able to smile. “Thanks, sweetheart, but this is one of those mother-daughter things that will require lots and lots of space. When the two of us get together, there’s no room for anybody else within a ten-mile radius.”

  “Sometimes, Southern women get too close and go boom!” Jeremy exclaimed, making a playful, explosive gesture with his hands.

  Maura Beth gave him an impulsive hug and then pulled away, looking wide-eyed and wary. “I know you were just trying to be funny, but I sincerely hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  9

  The World’s Oldest Teenagers

  Locke couldn’t imagine what had gotten into his Voncille. She had been giggling to herself off and on in the car all the way home to Perry Street from the library. When he’d asked her what was up several times over, she wouldn’t tell him a thing. She just kept on giggling like a schoolgirl with a secret she was just itching to spill, but in her own good time. More than once, she even had to avert her gaze and cover her mouth, she was so full of herself.

  Finally, he’d had enough, and after they had just entered the kitchen, he said, “Okay, Voncille, once and for all, what is so damned funny all of a sudden? What’s this inside joke of yours?”

  She headed straight to the counter to turn on the coffeemaker and heat up the carafe. “I guess I do need a nice black cup of something sobering like this.”

  Locke managed to look amused in spite of himself. “That’s one of the more ridiculous things I’ve ever heard. You can’t possibly be drunk on that cherry cola punch.”

  This time she laughed out loud. “No, but the way things went at our book club meeting tonight, I kept wishing that punch had been spiked. You have to admit, it got pretty rough at times. But at least one good thing came out of it all, and Mamie Crumpton, of all people, pointed the way.”

  “Will you stop being so mysterious and tell me what in the world you’re talking about?”

  She gestured emphatically at the telephone. “I mean, we’re going to call up Henry Marsden right now and get married as soon as he can work it into his schedule. A justice of the peace ceremony will do just fine, thank you. Then we’re going to pick a spot on the map and run off for our official honeymoon. And we aren’t going to tell a soul about it—not your children, not even Maura Beth and our book club friends. They can all think we’ve been captured by aliens, but we’re going to get this out of the way. I say enough of this going back and forth with Carla and Locke, Jr. We had it right the first time. We don’t need their blessing. We’re going to elope, and that’s all there is to it. And if you want my further opinion, I think Maura Beth should stop trying to please that overbearing mother of hers—she and Jeremy should just do the same thing and start living their own lives.”

  “You intend to call her up and tell her that?”

  “Well, no, I don’t. But the way I see it, she ought to be able to figure it out for herself. Not that differences between parents and children are all that easy to handle. I’ve been in her position myself.”

  Locke was stunned as he tried to take it all in. “So now you do want to get married again after that fiery speech you gave at the library? I’d like to think this will be your final decision.
After all, you spent a lot of time getting me to see the light, and I finally did. Then for a while there, you just gave up the ghost and wanted the status quo. Are you telling me you’ll have no regrets about that sweet little church wedding we were planning?”

  “None whatsoever. As a practical matter, we hadn’t even gotten to the invitations yet, so I promise you, this is it,” she told him, folding her arms for emphasis. “Getting married shouldn’t be this difficult for anybody. We’ve had our license for a while now. We just need someone to perform the ceremony. Lord knows, there are enough youngsters full of hormones out there who don’t give getting married a second thought and rush into it with mostly disastrous results. Or have to get married, which usually implies something even worse. That’s what I was giggling about. I was thinking to myself, ‘Here we are, both of us pushing seventy, and we’ve gotten way too caught up in what your children think—’ ”

  He interrupted with a look of resignation, shaking his head. “They came at us pretty hard. Blindsided us, really.”

  “That’s an understatement. And I understand how hurt you are. Anyway, about my giggling. If we do something like run off and elope, we’d be acting like the world’s oldest teenagers, and that particular image just makes me very happy at this stage of my life. I know my parents wouldn’t have liked it at all, and that makes me even happier. After all these years, I think I’ll finally be my own woman and free of their constant disapproval of me and the way I wanted to live my life.”

  “And what a very special woman you are,” he told her. “You’ve been exactly what I’ve needed. In fact, I know we’ve both changed for the better since we’ve been together.”