A Patron Saint for Junior Bridesmaids

by Shelley Tougas

  “So you looked through my stuff?”

  “How else was I going to find it? I don’t have X-ray vision! I saw the suitcase. It was locked, and I figured the little key was somewhere nearby, and it was. I found it in the dresser. Problem solved.” Grandma looks impressed with herself.

  I don’t care about her spine-melting look. “Grandma, you totally violated my privacy. And Eden’s, too!”

  “It couldn’t wait. It’s a long trip from Holmestrand to St. Paul. What if you died in a car accident? You’d have died in a state of sin!”

  “You could have called.”

  “That’s not the kind of thing you discuss on the phone. Completely inappropriate.”

  “So is going through our stuff. That’s not appropriate.”

  “If you had told me, I wouldn’t have needed to go through your things.”

  Here’s where I’m supposed to give up, but I’m not going to. I take a deep breath and blow it slowly through my lips, just like Eden. “Grandma, nobody tells you things because you either ignore them or freak out and make everybody feel bad.”

  I stare at the table and wait for the explosion. But it’s quiet, so finally I raise my eyes. Grandma is looking at her clasped hands. I say, “I get it. I should’ve taken the wafer to Father Owens that morning. But I didn’t want Mom in trouble or Luke in trouble or me in trouble. I would’ve ended up in Confession, and I hate Confession.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Why would you hate Confession?”

  “I’m supposed to be the good kid. I have an award to prove it.”

  She shakes her head. “A good kid? Sure. But not a perfect kid. Father Owens knows more than anyone that nobody is perfect. He hears the worst of the worst—probably never anything quite like our Communion problem, but he’s a priest, and it’s his job to hear the awful things people do.”

  “But I don’t do awful things. Not usually. I mean, I hit Brent Helzinski and I kept a bad secret.” I realize I’m still keeping a bad secret: Eden’s secret. I should tell Grandma.

  But that’s what Mom or Aunt Maggie would do. They’d tiptoe around the problem. I need to talk to Eden. Not Grandma. Not Justin.

  Grandma interrupts my thoughts. “Confession is important because it’s a way to pray for forgiveness.”

  “I don’t need a priest to help me pray. Besides, I’ve been praying to Blessed Imelda for a miracle with this Communion wafer, and it’s been a huge waste of time.”

  Grandma squeezes my hands. “Has it?”

  “Yes!”

  “Seems to me your prayer was answered. Luke told me, and I took care of it.”

  “That’s not a miracle. That’s just you fixing a problem. Patron Saints are a complete and total waste of time.”

  “What do you think a miracle looks and sounds like? Blinding light from above? Harp music? Miracles happen all around us every single day, and we don’t even notice. Prayers are never wasted. Besides, saints only join us in praying to God. They’re simply prayer assistants. God is the boss. Saints are secretaries. Jesus is second in command, and Mary … well, she’s like the director of public relations. Prayers are like memos.”

  My mouth drops open. “Are you comparing Heaven to an office?”

  “It’s the best I could do on the spot.” She crosses her arms. “You think I don’t understand, but I do. When your grandfather had his accident, I prayed for years that he’d get better. And when he got worse, I prayed that he’d live. Then he died. I was heartbroken and furious. I stopped going to church for an entire year.” She pauses, then waves her hand like she’s removing the bad feelings in the air. “Sad talk doesn’t help anyone with anything, does it? I’ll make you a sandwich.”

  “I don’t want a sandwich. I want to know why you went back.”

  Grandma gets ham and mayo from the refrigerator. “I need it. I need the rituals, the community, and the sense of love. I don’t know more about God and prayer than I did when I was a little girl. But I do know that saints inspire me. Jesus makes me feel whole. I don’t think God took my husband to punish me. We’re human, so we’ll never understand. I gave up trying to understand it and focused on accepting it.”

  I sigh. “Basically, you’re telling me it is what it is.”

  “Why, Mary!” Grandma looks so pleased. “That’s very wise.”

  She puts the sandwich in front of me. I take a bite, and I have to admit it goes down pretty well. Grandma squeezes my shoulder and sits next to me. “You’ve always been the feisty one. Eden could learn a thing or two from you.” My mouth is full of sandwich, so I can’t respond. “You know, I should have forced Eden to take charge of this wedding. It would’ve helped with her … issues. I knew she wouldn’t get the wedding of her dreams if I didn’t advocate for her, but I can’t help wondering if I should’ve forced her to say, ‘I want a beautiful dress. I want a real band.’”

  I cough bread crumbs. The door opens, and Luke says, “I’ve been waiting forever. Can we play now?”

  “Absolutely.” Grandma tugs my arm. “You, too.”

  “No thanks. I’m tired.”

  “If you don’t want to play, then you can watch. My sofa is very, very comfortable.”

  She won’t take no for an answer, so I pick up my sandwich and follow them to Grandma’s side of the house. They sit at the table, but I stop in the doorway. I really don’t want to play Monopoly. I am tired.

  Mom would sit down and play. Aunt Maggie would sit down and play. So would Eden. Not me. “I’m tired. I’m not going to play.”

  “Come on Mary,” Luke says. “I’m going to be the little car. You can be the hat.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Grandma pats the seat next to her. “You’re young and full of energy.”

  “No.” My voice shakes a little. “I’m going to take a nap.”

  Grandma blinks. “Mary—”

  “I don’t want to play. I really, really, really don’t want to play.”

  Luke looks shocked. I wait for Grandma’s spine-melting stare, but she just sighs. “Mary Margaret Miller. You most definitely are the feisty one.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  There’s going to be a wedding in 3 days

  The problem with the unfinished section of the Grand Canyon puzzle is the color. I can’t sort the pieces because there’s beige, beige, beige, and a beigier shade of beige, and the variation in the shapes is too subtle for my eyes. For every twenty pieces I try to press together, I get maybe one to fit. My neck hurts from leaning forward, and my fingers are stiff.

  I look out the window to see if Eden’s car has returned. She’s been either at work, or with Justin for the past two days. It’s nearly midnight, and she’s still not home. Maybe she suspects I’m on to her plot. I remember what she said about being quiet and paying attention and noticing things other people don’t see.

  If I don’t do something, Eden and Justin will be on a plane tomorrow morning. Grandma went crazy with the wedding plans, but it’s not fair for Eden to run off. Sure, Grandma did everything wrong, but it’s too late to fix. It’s not fair to run away. People can’t be uninvited. The dress can’t be sent back.

  It is what it is.

  I call Eden again and leave another voicemail. “Hey Eden. It’s me again. Just calling to see if you got my texts and voicemail messages.” If I wasn’t so stressed, I’d laugh at myself, because I sound like my mom. She’ll text me to see if I read her e-mail and then leave me a voicemail to see if I got her text about her e-mail.

  I go back to the puzzle. For another hour, I try to connect the walls of the Grand Canyon. Finally I hear a car door and muffled voices. It’s Eden and Justin walking hand-in-hand toward the house. I race downstairs and get to the porch just as they’re getting comfortable on the wicker sofa.

  “Where have you been?” Justin and Eden laugh, but I don’t think it’s funny. “I’ve been waiting all night, and you didn’t respond to my messages.”

  “My phone died and I didn’t have my phone charger
with me,” Eden says. “I’m sorry. Is everything okay?”

  “No. Everything is not okay.”

  “What? What happened?” Eden sounds panicked, and I’m fine with letting her feel that way. I draw out the moment and then say, “I know the truth, Eden. And what you’re doing is wrong. Grandma’s spent a fortune on this wedding, and I know you don’t like the way it’s turned out, but that’s too bad.”

  Justin puts his arm around Eden and says, “What’s going on?”

  I keep my eyes locked on Eden. “I saw the travel stuff in your purse, and I know it’s not some surprise honeymoon. You’re eloping.”

  “What’s she talking about?” Justin asks.

  “What’s the plan, Eden?” I’m on a roll. “Did you think you could get him to the airport and explain everything once you got there?”

  Eden’s face is blank. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I saw the tickets. Your flight leaves for Las Vegas tomorrow. That makes it hard to get married in St. Paul on Saturday, doesn’t it?”

  “Tickets to Las Vegas?” Justin asks.

  Eden seems lost. Her voice is nearly a whisper. “As a surprise for you, I bought a Las Vegas vacation package for our honeymoon. But we leave the morning after the wedding.”

  “No you don’t. You leave tomorrow. That’s August seventeenth.” I have a sinking feeling. Am I wrong? Could I have possibly developed a reading disorder?

  Eden opens her purse and digs out the papers. It’s dark, so she holds them close to her face, and gasps. “I’m so stupid! Oh my God, how could I be so stupid? I got the dates wrong. I remember the best deal was for August 17, and I was going to pay the extra amount to go the day after the wedding, but I was running late for work and clicked through everything so fast … God, I’m an idiot.”

  Eden drops her head in her hands. Justin rubs her back. “Don’t say that about yourself. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but we’ll fix it, ok?”

  I lean against the door. “So you aren’t planning to elope?”

  “Of course not!” Eden has tears in her eyes. “How could you think I would do that to Grandma? To my family? You think I would just disappear without a word to anyone?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t think that—”

  “You did. That’s what you thought.”

  “It’s just a misunderstanding,” Justin says.

  “Eden,” I say, “I thought maybe you were taking control to make this wedding your own. That one night you sat on your bed and said you couldn’t take any more. You even said you won’t be eating cake at the wedding.”

  “Because I’ll be too nervous. That’s all I meant.”

  “In Holmestrand it sounded like—”

  “Like I was nervous? Of course I’m nervous. That doesn’t mean I’d do something deceitful and cruel.”

  The door opens. It’s Uncle Will. “What’s going on out here?” He runs his hand through his rumpled hair.

  The three of us say, “Nothing.”

  “Well, it’s a pretty loud bunch of nothing.” He leans forward and squints at Eden. “Are you crying?” Then he says to Justin, “What did you do?”

  “Nothing, sir!”

  “It wasn’t Justin,” I say. “It was me. I screwed up. I made a mistake, and I said something mean to Eden.”

  Eden sniffles and waves the papers with the trip information. “No. I made the mistake.”

  “No. It was me. I was wrong.”

  “I shouldn’t have rushed through my first vacation purchase.”

  “I shouldn’t have taken something out of your purse.”

  “Thankfully you did. Maybe we can fix it.”

  “Taken what? Fix what?” Uncle Will says.

  Grandma’s voice comes from the darkness. “Fix what? Taken what?”

  Justin says, “We’ll call the airline, and we’ll explain, and even if we have to pay extra, we’ll make it work.”

  “Pay extra for what?” Uncle Will says.

  “Make what work?” Grandma says.

  Eden sighs. “It’s a long story.”

  “Well, we’re all up now,” Grandma says. “Come inside. I’ll make sandwiches and you can tell us all about it.”

  I say, “We’ll be right there.” Uncle Will and Justin follow Grandma, and I shut the door so they can’t hear us. “Eden, I’m really, really sorry. I feel stupid.”

  Eden sighs. “You’re not stupid. I can see how you connected the dots. But why didn’t you ask me right away?”

  I swallow and think. “Because you had a headache.” As soon as I say it, I know it sounds ridiculous. “Because … I don’t know.”

  “This trumped a headache, definitely.”

  “We’re such a close family.” I shrug and stare at my feet. “But sometimes it’s still hard to talk about stuff.”

  “I know, but I thought you and I were different. We’re not Grandma. We’re not our moms. We’re us.”

  Her words make me happy. I’m glad we’re in the darkness of the porch, because I’m blushing. And if I’m blushing, Eden’s probably purple. I smile and say, “You’re right. We are different.”

  Eden laughs a little. “Thank God.”

  We do a sign of the cross at the same time and go inside for sandwiches.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  There’s going to be a wedding in 1 day

  “BlessUsLordAndTheseGiftsAmen.”

  Uncle Will starts passing dishes—corned beef and cabbage, soda bread, and boxty, which is an Irish potato pancake.

  “Will, I think you’ve outdone yourself,” Dad says. “This smells and looks delicious.” He hands the basket of soda bread to Justin, who takes a small piece and passes it to Grandma, who takes an even smaller piece and says, “Normally I say Irish meals have no flavor, but this dinner is well seasoned with prewedding jitters.” She laughs while Uncle Will glares at her.

  “Mother!” Aunt Maggie shakes her head.

  Nobody else laughs. We’re tired.

  Mom and Dad arrived late last night. This morning, Grandma woke everyone early and handed out to-do lists. We spent the day checking off the tasks. Aunt Maggie and I bought back-up pairs of pantyhose in case we get runs. Mom went to the flower shop to personally inspect the corsages. Dad figured out how to set Aunt Maggie’s slideshow to music. When Grandma found out Uncle Will planned to wear white socks with his tuxedo, she took him shopping to make sure he got black dress socks—not dark blue, not gray, not brown. Black. And that was just before noon.

  Grandma says, “Actually, I’m enjoying this boxty. I’m saying so because it’s true, and it’s important to tell the truth.” Grandma looks at Mom as she says it, but Mom doesn’t notice. She’s helping Luke cut a piece of corned beef.

  “Why are we having more cabbage when we know for a fact that Justin doesn’t like cabbage?” Luke asks.

  “I like cabbage.” Justin turns his usual shade of red. “Especially this cabbage. It’s quite delicious.”

  I nudge Luke. “I think you’re the one who doesn’t like cabbage.”

  “If you don’t like cabbage, Luke, you should just say so,” Grandma says. “It’s important to tell the truth.”

  “I don’t like cabbage,” he says.

  “See? Telling the truth is easy. And important,” Grandma says.

  Eden looks at me like, What’s going on? I just shake my head and roll my eyes. Then Dad steps in. “Speaking of food, I brought a treat.”

  Mom pats Luke’s head. “You’ll love this.”

  “You know how we thought we’d never find restaurant pie as good as Dave’s Diner in Holmestrand? Well, your mother and I discovered a café about 30 miles from my job, and the pie is the best we’ve ever had.”

  Mom interrupts. “Not as good as Grandma’s pie.”

  “That’s why I said restaurant pie. If Grandma sold pies in Holmestrand, she’d put poor Dave out of business.” Grandma beams a smile as wide as the Grand Canyon. “My point is we drove out of the wa
y yesterday to get a pie to share with you all.”

  “How nice!” Grandma says.

  Uncle Will smiles. Luke rubs his stomach like he can’t wait. Justin looks relieved we’re talking about something other than cabbage. When it comes to changing the mood at the dinner table, Dad’s a champ. Just when I’m about to relax, Luke’s words scramble my insides. “Can we invite Nick over for pie?”

  I freeze, but Grandma says, “Sure.”

  Luke turns to me. “Are you fighting with him? Because when we drove up you were on his front step and you looked super mad and then you came inside and slammed the door real hard.”

  My face burns.

  “That’s not your business,” Dad says. “You need to respect Mary’s privacy.”

  “Unless someone’s soul is at stake,” Grandma replies, “and you have to look through their things. Then it’s an entirely different story. Wouldn’t you agree, Mary?”

  Luke says, “Mary should apologize.”

  “There will be no apologies until this wedding is over.” Grandma stares at Mom. “Then, believe me, there will be overdue apologies.”

  Justin looks confused. The poor guy needs a special family dictionary to understand what we’re really saying.

  “Mary should apologize right now,” Luke says. “I don’t think she’s friends with Nick anymore.”

  I want Dad to pull another rabbit out of his hat and change the subject, but Uncle Will takes over and tells Dad that Nick charges too much for yard work, then Grandma lists off reasons why Nick’s a sweet kid, then Luke starts in with apology demands. I’m in quicksand.

  “I’d like to stop talking about this.” Everyone goes silent, not because the voice is loud or rude, but because it’s Eden. She interrupted with forceful words. Eden! She looks at me, clears her throat, and says, “My wedding is tomorrow and I’d like to stop talking about this and perhaps I’d like a piece of that pie.”

  Of course she blushes, but she keeps her eyes steady. Then she smiles at me. I’d consider it the perfect moment, except for this: I’m not sure if Nick is friends with me anymore.