The Wedding Circle

by Ashton Lee

  His compliment found its mark, causing Miss Voncille to blow him a kiss. Then she glanced over at the warming carafe and decided it was time to pour herself some coffee. As she reached up into the nearby cupboard, she turned his way, and said, “Would you like some, too?”

  “Yes, I believe I’ll join you.”

  They stood there for a while, slowly sipping and concentrating. “Well, here’s something to consider. Can you put up with Henry Marsden’s constant whistling?” Locke said, finally. “He’s not the only justice of the peace in the world, you know. We could find someone else and drive over to Corinth or even up to Memphis—whatever you’d like.”

  “Oh, there’ll be just a few minutes of it at the most,” she answered, cracking a smile. “I suppose the poor man could solve his problem if he’d just get himself a new set of dentures, but judging from all the years I’ve known him, it doesn’t look like he’s going to do that anytime soon. He seems to like himself the way he is. Ssso I can ssstand it if you can.”

  “Now that’s very clever!”

  “Oh, I suppose so, but I’d never make fun of him that way in public.” Then with a surge of energy, Miss Voncille clapped her hands twice, sounding like an excited schoolgirl. “Let’s just go ahead and call Henry up right this minute and see how soon we can get this show on the road!”

  Locke’s expression was full of polite skepticism. “Speaking of the road, where is this wonderful little spot on the map we’re going to spend our so-called honeymoon? Any suggestions?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Let’s be adventurous about it. We can just drive somewhere. None of this ‘booking in advance’ nonsense. I loved that old Route 66 TV series where they’d just get in their sports car and have a new adventure every week—acted like they didn’t have a care in the world. We could do something like that. You could go get your atlas off the back seat, and we could thumb through it state by state. Or maybe I’ll close my eyes and we’ll go wherever my finger lands. Who knows?” Uncharacteristically, she started waltzing in place with arms outstretched, her salt-and-pepper head tilted back and her eyes affixed to an imaginary partner. “I want you to look and see if I’m first on your dance card, Locke. I’d better be!”

  Her spontaneity was contagious, and he looked very much in love as took her in his arms and began leading her around the kitchen. “Why, I do believe you’re my very first, and I think you and I make absolutely wonderful, seventy-year-old teenagers.” Then he looked suddenly inspired, glancing briefly at the ceiling. “By the way, what are we dancing to tonight?”

  She drew back for a moment and gave him a wry smile. “ ‘The Blue Danube’? ‘The Merry Widow Waltz’? ‘Tennessee Waltz’? I loved Patti Page’s version back in the day. I don’t know. You pick one. You can even hum it for us. I don’t care as long as we keep on dancing.”

  Miss Voncille was not about to be bothered by Henry Marsden and his sibilance on this, her wedding day that had been so long in coming. The pleasant buzz she had created for herself by ten o’clock the next morning in his institutional-looking office was a potent mixture of expectation and the sort of fantasy she herself had decried during The Robber Bridegroom review at the library the evening before; in spite of the peeling green paint, a framed American flag whose colors were badly faded, and any number of illegible metal plaques and citations tacked to the walls. There was also one feeble attempt to add a ceremonial aura to the surroundings in the form of two white votive candles offering up their cloying, flowery scents at opposite ends of Henry Marsden’s desk.

  But it was as if none of those pedestrian things existed. For across from Miss Voncille stood her gentlemanly Locke, the epitome of distinguished and dashing in his three-piece gray suit and silver tie; while she felt like the queen of the ball wearing her champagne-colored cocktail dress and holding her makeshift bouquet of white crepe myrtle cuttings from Locke’s front yard. What a last-minute inspiration that had been as she had rushed into the garage to retrieve his garden shears! After all, he had been tending to his trees for many years now. They were quite mature—their trunks having grown very gnarled and muscular as crepe myrtles will do—and snatching a small part of them to take with her as she became his wife was something she thought would be quite original for the ceremony.

  Everything else continued to fade into the background, including Henry Marsden’s impediment, the almost comical, big ears that protruded from the sides of his bald head and the cramped little room that would bear witness to their exchange of vows. Even his thin, mousy wife, Oralee, wearing a sack of a dress that hung on her bones while she played the role of witness on this steamy morning, seemed like little more than a theater prop.

  And then Miss Voncille began reciting her own original words that would finally turn her into a married woman: “Locke Linwood, I come to you today of my own free will with joy in my heart so that the two of us can become one. When I least expected it, you appeared in my life, and I was wise enough to open my arms and let you in.” The emotion in her voice was very evident, and she paused briefly to steady herself as she continued. “My long wait is over now. You’ve quietly touched my soul, and I look forward to the rest of my life with you.”

  Then it was Locke’s turn to take the stage, and he did not miss a beat. Not even once did he look down at the small square of paper with scribbles tucked away in the palm of his hand—just in case his memory failed him. “Voncille Nettles, you will never know how much you’ve changed my life. I’ve always been a man of few words, but you make me want to tell the whole world how I feel about you. But I know the best way to do that is to take you as my wife and travel together from there. I can’t wait for the journey to begin. Our sunrise is at hand.”

  Miss Voncille noticed that Oralee Marsden’s jaw dropped as Locke finished up. Without the woman saying a word, that had to be high praised indeed. There was no question about it. These vows of theirs were verbal jewels, even if she and Locke had pulled them out of their heads over coffee, biscuits, and green pepper jelly at the breakfast table only an hour before. The spontaneity of it all was taking Miss Voncille’s breath away, but she was having no trouble handling it.

  “The ringsss pleassse,” Henry Marsden said next.

  At that point absolutely nothing could stop Miss Voncille from smiling, although she noticed her Locke was wincing slightly. The sibilance of the last phrase had been particularly sharp and penetrating. Had there been a dog of any kind in the room, it was easy to picture its ears perking up, along with a pitiful whimper or two. But soon enough, the rings were exchanged, and the rote part of the ceremony with the “I do’s” was over and done with.

  Then came the final sibilance. “By the power vesssted in me by the Ssstate of Misssisssippi, I now pronounssse you husssband and wife. You may now kisss your bride.”

  Indeed, Locke’s kiss was one for the ages. It was soft and gentle, lingering just long enough to convey genuine passion, yet stopping short of becoming a side show. As Miss Voncille pulled back staring affectionately into his eyes, the reality of it hit her. After decades of going it alone the best way she knew how, she was finally married. With the distant tragedy of Frank Gibbons and his MIA status still an immutable part of her, she was truly moving on at last. She was now Mrs. Locke Linwood, and it would no longer matter what his children said or did. If they came around as decent, loving people ought to, then fine. If not, at least she and Locke had stopped all the second-guessing and agonizing and done the deed.

  “Well, off we go on our honeymoon,” Miss Voncille told Oralee as everyone was shaking hands after all the paperwork had been signed at Henry’s desk.

  “If you don’t mind my askin,’ where y’all goin’?” Oralee wanted to know. “Henry and I went to Six Flags Over Texas. A’ course, that was way back when it was a real big deal. It sounded like it’d be lots a’ fun, but I threw up on the roller coaster.”

  Miss Voncille winced at first, but then drew herself up proudly. “We don’t even know where we’re goi
ng. All I can tell you is, we’re heading west from here. We’ll just see where the road leads us.”

  Oralee looked flabbergasted, bringing her hands together. “Why, I never heard of such a thing. But I kinda like it. Y’all are so impulsive.”

  “Aren’t we, though?” Miss Voncille leaned in and whispered playfully. “But please don’t tell anyone we’ve done this. We’re going to keep it under our hats for a while and let everyone know about it in our own good time.”

  “My goodness! Y’all make me wanna get married all over again,” Oralee added. “Why don’t we take our vows again, Henry?”

  “Well now, Oralee,” he told her, looking at her like she was out of her mind, “that’sss the lassst thing I want to do right now. You and I, we’re jussst fine the way we are. We’re too old for that kinda foolissshness. Not only that, but don’t you get enough of all thisss? I mean, I’d think you’d want a break sssince you’re ssstanding up for ssso many couplesss all the time?”

  “You’d think, wudd’n you?” Then she turned to Miss Voncille once again, talking out of the side of her mouth. “But I’ve gotten pretty good at tellin’ what’s what. When some a’ these people walk outta here, I know without a doubt they’re not gonna make it. Don’t ask me how I know it. After thousands a’ ceremonies, I just do. Why, I wouldn’t issue a fishin’ license to some of these crazies!” She paused to enjoy a good laugh, wiping the corner of her eye with her finger.

  “But you two, you’ve got that special twinkle. You had that snap in your step when you first come in. You definitely looked like you knew what you were doin’. Now you be sure and let us know where you ended up when you get back from your little trip. Why, just the idea of somebody takin’ off on an impulse the way y’all are doin’ is so romantic, I can hardly stand it!”

  Miss Voncille gave her a quick hug. “I totally agree with you. It’s so unlike me to do something like this. I’ve always been so organized and such a perfectionist about everything over the years—from my school teaching to my genealogy research at the library. If I hadn’t cut my hair so short like this, I’d say I was definitely letting it down for the first time in my life.”

  The look of envy on Oralee’s face was quite obvious, and the sigh that followed was overly dramatic. “Y’all drive safe now.”

  “Don’t you worry about a thing,” Miss Voncille said, as she headed for the door with Locke leading the way. “We’re both very cautious behind the wheel, and when the sign says yield, believe me, we yield. And not only that, Locke’s even been known to stop and ask for directions when he can’t find an address or thinks he might be lost. Can you imagine? You know how stubborn men are about that. If they don’t mind asking, they’re definitely keepers. If nothing else, it means they’ll actually listen to you once in a while!”

  Locke turned back with a smirk. “I can’t remember when I’ve dominated a conversation with you, Voncille. I’m wondering if anyone ever has.”

  “That’s enough of that,” she said, taking his comment in stride with a chuckle. “Let’s go see what we can discover out there on the open road.”

  10

  Concrete Proof of Life

  “Now that I finally have you one-on-one again, I want you to follow me. I have something I need you to see,” Maura Beth was saying to her mother out on the deck of the McShays’ lodge the morning after The Robber Bridegroom potluck and review had blown up in her face. The two of them had just endured a tense breakfast of coffee and croissants during which everyone’s conversation around the table consisted mainly of small talk with a generous helping of averted glances thrown in for good measure. It was obvious that no one cared to discuss Cara Lynn’s hasty exit of the evening before, or the heated exchange that had sent her on her way in such a huff.

  But Maura Beth could postpone the inevitable no longer. She had finally brought her napkin up from her lap, excused herself to Jeremy, her hosts, and in-laws, and issued a pointed invitation as she rose from her chair. “Mama, please join me outside for a minute, won’t you?”

  At first, Cara Lynn had continued to play the role of the outraged mother of the bride. “No, thank you, I’ve seen the view. I’ve already said how lovely I think it is. Your father and I need to get upstairs and start packing.”

  “This is very important to me. Please, Mama,” Maura Beth added with a gentle urgency in her voice.

  William Mayhew had caught his wife’s gaze and tilted his head in the general direction of the deck, and she had relented.

  “All right, then. But we have a schedule to keep to get down to New Orleans at a reasonable hour.”

  Once out on the deck, Cara Lynn maintained her cantankerous demeanor as she kept her gaze trained on the still, brown water. “I’ve seen everything I need to see here, Maura Beth. Yesterday, the grand tour of that matchbox apartment you live in just broke my heart. I’d go out of my mind being hemmed in the way you are. It certainly doesn’t do justice to the beautiful sofa we sent you. Besides, it’s starting to heat up out here already. Why on earth do I have to follow you somewhere in all this terrible humidity?”

  “Because we haven’t resolved anything. You and Daddy are about to run off, and we’re practically right back where we started. We’ve been skirting around the issue of my wedding, and you know it.”

  Cara Lynn drew back in exasperation. “I don’t see it that way. You’ve made it clear that you’re going to have your wedding right here where we’re standing. And what your father and I want is of no importance.”

  “That’s just not true. I’m wearing your wedding dress because it’s important to you.”

  “Yes, and I appreciate that. I really do. But why not agree to come down to Louisiana and do things up right? Yes, your friends here in Cherico are very nice and hospitable, but what about the family and friends you grew up with? Don’t they mean anything to you at all?”

  “You mean like Cudd’n M’Dear?” Maura Beth was staring down at the planks and shaking her head.

  “All right. I’ll give you that one. Cudd’n M’Dear is a bit hard to stomach at times. I don’t even think she means well when she goes off on one of her absurd tangents. But there are so many other people who have always taken a genuine interest in you from the time you were just a baby. Why won’t you let your father and I give you a beautiful New Orleans wedding that you’ll never forget?”

  Maura Beth was determined not to get drawn into her mother’s time-honored tactics and pressed on. “If you’ll just come with me, Mama, I think everything will make sense to you. Connie and Douglas have already taken Daddy over to the construction site. Will you at least do that much?”

  Cara Lynn made a big to-do of checking her watch and sighing. “If you insist. But we really do need to be heading back to Louisiana. I think we’ve overstayed our welcome as it is.”

  Maura Beth gestured in the direction of the steps leading to a winding path flanked by monkey grass. As they slowly proceeded, the trail became less and less defined, and the border of greenery eventually disappeared. Ahead lay only a thick stand of willows and hardwoods that screened the neighboring property from view. But just when a dead end seemed all but certain, Maura Beth pointed to an opening partially obscured by overhanging branches.

  “It’s right there in the clearing just beyond,” she told her mother. “You go ahead of me, please. I don’t want you to leave without seeing it. It’s concrete proof of what my life is all about up here.”

  Cara Lynn obeyed, but not before giving her daughter a skeptical glance. Then she shaded her eyes as she began surveying the flat land in front of her. “What is it I’m supposed to see, Maura Beth? There’s nothing there. It just looks like a graded lot to me.”

  “Look more closely right over there by the water,” Maura Beth said, gesticulating emphatically.

  “What? At that big, long slab? You mean that remark about the concrete was supposed to be taken literally?”

  Maura Beth’s pride clearly showed in the way she held herself
and drew in a breath of the heavy morning air. “Yes, it might be just a concrete slab right now, but that’s the foundation of Cherico’s new library—and it wouldn’t be going up if I hadn’t come here in the first place and then fought long and hard for it. Won’t it have a beautiful view of the lake when it’s finished?”

  “Yes, I can see that it will,” Cara Lynn admitted. “The lake is very nice.” Then she faced her daughter, finally dispensing with the last vestiges of the cold-shoulder treatment she’d adopted since the outburst at the library. “But I still don’t get it, Maura Beth. Honestly. I mean, this fascination you have with being a librarian. I’ve tried to understand, but frankly, it all just eludes me. Of course, Daddy and I thought you’d stay with it for a while just to make a little money until you got married, settled down, and gave us grandchildren. We never dreamed you’d go to this extreme and turn your back on your upbringing the way you have.”

  Maura Beth could not suppress a light ripple of laughter. “Mama, you kill me sometimes.”

  “Why? What’s so funny about what I said?”

  “Here, let’s get out of this bright sun first,” Maura Beth said, moving into the shade of the trees once again and waiting for her mother to follow. “The part about money. I can pretty much promise you that nobody goes into the library business for the money. If they do, they’re going to be sadly disappointed and disillusioned.”

  Cara Lynn was arching her brows dramatically and nodding her head furiously now, daring to disrupt her carefully arranged hairdo. “There, you’ve practically made my argument for me. What on earth is the big attraction? I know you’re barely scraping by, and every single time your father and I have offered to help out, you get so upset with us. It seems we can’t win with you, no matter what. Do you think there’s some virtue in not having money? I know there are politicians out there who make a living running down the entire concept of wealth as if it’s the greatest sin in the world, but I’m just not buying it.”