Biloxi Brides (Sugar and Grits)

by Martha Rogers

  “Well now, you got me there, Sassy.” Fletcher nodded toward the back door. “I think I’ll go check on that project I’ve got out in the garage.”

  “Wendell,” Dottie Jean whispered to Sue Ellen.

  “Did you say something, Dottie Jean?” Sassy asked.

  Their hostess straightened her spine as her husband escaped out back, where Bud was standing guard over the steaks. “I was just saying how nice it’s going to be to have all of you in our new home.” She fingered the diamond on her hand. “God has blessed me so. I just want the same for you.”

  Bud appeared at the back door, a platter of steaks in his hands. “Where do you want this, Dottie Jean?” She relieved him of the plate, and he hightailed it back outdoors.

  “That’s a fine man there, Sue Ellen,” Dottie Jean said. “I’m glad you two decided to come to the party together.”

  “I didn’t have much choice, now, did I?”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Dottie Jean touched her sleeve. “You sure do look pretty for someone who didn’t have a choice. Is that outfit new? I’m sure Bud noticed how pretty you look.”

  “Dottie Jean, you’re wasting your time. I’m letting the Lord find my husband for me, and so far He hasn’t mentioned anything about Bud Briggs.” Sue Ellen paused. “Besides, the whole town knows he’s headed for the FBI.”

  Sassy placed her freshly manicured hand on her shoulder. “Hon, is this about your daddy? Are you thinking about how he was gone all the time? Sue Ellen, your daddy was a hero.”

  “She’s right, Sue Ellen,” Dottie Jean said. “He spent his life doing what the Lord called him to do. Thanks to him, who knows how many criminals are behind bars?”

  The lump in her throat kept Sue Ellen from responding. The doorbell announced Leota and Beauregard’s arrival, effectively changing the subject and lightening the mood.

  On their heels were a group of folks, including Grandpa and Fanny. Despite her less-than-cover-girl figure, the owner of the local grocery store looked absolutely stunning. Sue Ellen shivered as the door opened wide to admit the guests.

  Before she could think hard on that, her grandfather enveloped her in a bear hug. “You here alone, Susie-Q?”

  “You know I’m not, Grandpa.” She held him at arm’s length. “I’d consider it a personal favor if you and the guys would find someone besides Bud to tease.”

  “Oh, come on, honey. Bud’s a good sport.”

  She gave him a no-nonsense look. So did Fanny.

  “That’s right, Gus,” Fanny said. “That poor deputy’s got trouble enough without you fellows adding to it.”

  “Thank you, Miss Fanny.” Sue Ellen looked up to see Bud standing nearby, and then quickly returned her attention to Fanny. “I’m really glad you’re here with my grandpa.”

  “I didn’t know old Gus had such good sense, actually.” Sassy’s eyes narrowed. “Did you have to pay her to go on a date with you, Gus?”

  “Very funny, Sassy. Speaking of dates, where’s Wendell?”

  Sassy glanced around the room. “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him yet.”

  “Looks like my buddy may have regained his good sense.” Gus winked at Sue Ellen. “There’s hope for him yet.”

  “Hush, you old fool,” Sassy said, “or next Thanksgiving you can roast your own turkey.”

  Dottie Jean clapped her hands, commanding the attention of those gathered in the room. “Fletcher and I would like to welcome you all to our home.”

  Bud slid over to stand beside Sue Ellen. They exchanged looks before Dottie Jean continued.

  “If you would all follow Fletcher and me, there’s something waiting in the backyard. Or rather, there’s someone waiting in the backyard.”

  Sue Ellen fell in line behind her grandpa with Bud at her side. Sassy brought up the rear, complaining with every step of her borrowed shoes.

  “Why in the world are we traipsing back to the pasture when Dottie Jean and Fletcher have a perfectly lovely. . . Oh my word. Wendell, is that you?”

  Chapter Six

  Wendell stood in the center of a gazebo that had been draped in white tulle tied with matching ribbons. How Dottie Jean had kept this a secret, Sue Ellen had no idea.

  “It is, my love. Come join me.”

  “Don’t be silly. It’s too cold. Now come on inside.”

  “It’s warm over here.” He held out his hands to Sassy. “I promise. Fletcher was kind enough to install heaters. I’m not sure if it’s that or the fact I’m looking at you, but I am positively overheated.”

  Sue Ellen started to giggle, and Bud grasped her wrist. “Shh,” he said, much to her surprise. “Let them have their moment.”

  Sassy stood her ground, hands on her hips. “Wendell Meeks, come down from there this instant. You’re going to catch your death out here.” She paused. “Say, is that Reverend Jordan?”

  Wendell stepped to the edge of the platform and stared his bride-to-be down. It was all Sue Ellen could do not to giggle again at the formerly meek Wendell’s new me-Tarzan attitude.

  “Sassy Hatchett, get up here and marry me this instant before I change my mind.”

  The pastor stepped to the edge of the platform, Bible in hand. “And yes, it is me, and I’m prepared to conduct a wedding unless Wendell changes his mind.”

  Sassy met Sue Ellen’s gaze and shrugged. Her blue-gray eyes twinkled. “Guess it’s a good thing you painted my toes this afternoon. Looks like I’m getting hitched.”

  “It sure looks like it.” The image of Sassy swam with the tears that threatened—tears of both joy and disappointment. Never had she been so certain she’d never know such happiness as she saw on Wendell’s and Sassy’s faces.

  “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?”

  Sue Ellen gave Sassy a hug. “I’m just so happy for you.”

  Sassy returned the hug. “It’ll be your time someday soon.” She reached for Bud’s shoulder and gave him a shake. “If you’d worry less about your vitamins and that blasted FBI job and more about the woman God put right under your nose, maybe—”

  “Sassy!”

  “Coming, Wendell, honey.” She paused. “Wait, I can’t get married without my son and daughter here.”

  “I’m right here, Mom.” Tilly pressed past Sue Ellen to give her mother a one-armed embrace. With her other hand, she presented Sassy with a bouquet of daisies. “I brought the flowers.”

  “Daisies.” Sassy looked up at Tilly. “Did you do that on purpose?”

  “Sure did.” Tilly winked at Sue Ellen. “I figure Daddy’s smiling at the two of you. You know all he ever wanted was for you to be happy.” She paused. “You are happy, aren’t you?”

  “I am, honey,” she said. Then her expression turned wistful. “I just wish your brother was here. ’Course, if you all told him New Year’s Eve, he’ll most likely turn up round Easter Sunday.”

  “That was the old Tucker. This one’s here right on time to walk you down the aisle.”

  Sue Ellen watched a handsome man with his mother’s eyes lift Sassy a full foot off the ground before setting her down. In between a couple of “put me downs” and one well-placed swat on the back of Tucker’s head, Sue Ellen thought she noticed a tear as it fell from Sassy’s eyes.

  When she quit complaining, Sassy held her son at arm’s length. “You don’t look any different, Tucker Hatchett.”

  “Probably not,” the young man replied, “since it’s mostly on the inside. Although I did land a job with Bobby Jim Penty’s pit crew.”

  “Bobby Jim Penty? The NASCAR driver from Biloxi?”

  “That’s right, Mama.” Tucker smiled, and Sue Ellen realized he now looked even more like his mother.

  “Well, hallelujah. Finally, some use for all those tires in the backyard.”

  “Mama, that’s not funny,” he said, although his face clearly showed he thought the opposite. “One of these days when you’re not busy getting married, I’ll tell you all about it. Right now, let’s get you hitch
ed.”

  The wedding was beautiful, and afterward, Sue Ellen couldn’t be sure who cried harder, the bride or the groom. She shed a few tears, too, and strangely into Bud’s handkerchief. He’d handed it to her midway through the part where Sassy stumbled over the phrase “love, honor, and obey.”

  The I-dos were quickly followed by Dottie Jean’s statement that a proper feast awaited the group inside. It took two announcements to break the lip-lock between Sassy and Wendell.

  The wedding dinner consisted of a variety of meats, courtesy of Fletcher and Bud’s grilling expertise, along with more vegetables, breads, and side dishes than the law should have allowed. Dessert was Sue Ellen’s fudge topped with Tilly’s homemade mocha ice cream. For those who were more calorie conscious, Dottie Jean provided fresh fruit and fat-free vanilla yogurt.

  As far as Sue Ellen could tell, Bud was the only one who partook of the low-fat fare.

  So as not to have her date—and oh, how she hated to call Bud that—cast aspersions on her choice of dessert, Sue Ellen took her fudge and mocha concoction back outside. The gazebo beckoned, so she found a hiding spot behind the yards of tulle and ribbon that swayed in the fresh evening breeze.

  So, she thought as she stabbed at the mound of molten sugar, another year come and gone almost. Sue Ellen checked her watch.

  A quarter to ten.

  One hour and fifteen minutes until the ball landed in Times Square. Another hour after that until the city fathers set off the fireworks on the riverbank, signaling the coming of a new year to Calista.

  Sue Ellen looked down at the dessert plate. “Guess I’d better chew slow.”

  Heavy footsteps echoed on the steps. “Is there room in there for me?”

  “ ’Course there’s room, Bud,” Sue Ellen said in an exasperated tone. “Dessert hasn’t gone to my hips yet. Most of it’s still on my plate.”

  “I didn’t reckon it had.” Bud peered around the wall of tulle and ribbons. Sure enough, his plate held a decent smattering of pineapple chunks, orange slices, and pieces of apple and banana.

  Figures.

  Then she saw it. A single chocolate-covered almond wobbling dangerously close to the remains of a dab of fat-free yogurt.

  “Why, Bud Briggs.” She pointed to his plate. “Is that what I think it is?”

  He had the decency to look surprised. “Wonder who put that on my plate?”

  “Here, let me help you with that.” She reached for the offending chocolate delicacy only to be stopped when Bud beat her to it.

  Bud popped the almond in his mouth. “That’s what you call removing the evidence.”

  Chapter Seven

  The sugar in that one bite would set him back for a week. Bud was about to calculate the calorie content when a strange thing happened.

  He just didn’t care.

  Try as he might to berate himself for allowing a sugary treat into his regimen, he couldn’t. This was certainly a new state of affairs.

  New and distinctly uncomfortable. But then, Sue Ellen made him feel uncomfortable on a regular basis. Why should today be any different?

  “What’s wrong, Bud? Adding up how many extra hours you’ll have to spend in the gym tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow I run. It’s not a gym day.” Bud knew by the look on Sue Ellen’s face that this was the wrong answer. He tried again. “Besides, I already know it will add precisely thirteen minutes and seventeen seconds.”

  This answer seemed to do the trick, as Sue Ellen went back to gazing off in the direction of the river. It was dark, too dark to see anything but the slightest glint of moonlight on the slow-moving water, but she seemed to be studying it intently. Every once in a while, she would pause from her contemplation to take a bite of the ice cream–covered chocolate goo.

  On one of those occasions, Bud decided to break the silence. “Nice wedding.”

  She made one of those humph sounds that let a body know disagreement was in the air. Bud waited a minute to see if she’d elaborate.

  When she bit into another piece of fudge, he decided to press on with polite conversation. “Sure do like New Year’s Eve. It always feels good to go out with the old and in with the new.”

  Another humph, this time a bit louder.

  Bud gave her a sideways look and took her expression as a challenge. If Sue Ellen Caldwell thought she could get away with wallowing in a foul mood on New Year’s Eve, she could think again.

  Slowly he developed his plan. With a skill and precision gleaned from his years in the Marine Corps, Bud gripped his fork and aimed for a particularly appealing slice of pineapple on the easternmost edge of his plate. At the last second, his hand changed directions, and he snagged a bite of Sue Ellen’s dessert.

  Before she could complain, he’d swallowed it whole.

  Sue Ellen’s mouth gaped open, and she made a funny squeaking noise. “Bud Briggs,” she finally managed, “I’ve known you since we were both knee-high to a grasshopper. I’d be willing to bet you haven’t had that much chocolate since junior high.”

  Bud leaned back against the fancy fabric-covered post and savored the flavor of the forbidden treat. Sue Ellen was wrong, of course. Diet and exercise hadn’t been the priority during his military days. Staying alive had.

  He’d never tell her that, though. No sense in ruining a perfectly good night talking about the past. Time to lighten the mood and change the subject.

  Setting his plate aside, Bud turned to face Sue Ellen. “So, are you making any resolutions this year, Sue Ellen?”

  “I hate resolutions.”

  “Oh, come on,” Bud said. “Resolutions are a good way to make positive changes.”

  “Give me a break, Bud.” Sue Ellen finished the last of her dessert, and then set her plate on the floor beside her. “I figure it this way. If I don’t start the year telling myself what I can’t do, I won’t finish the year wishing I’d kept my resolutions.” She looked up at him. “Make sense?”

  “None whatsoever,” he said.

  She made that humph sound again.

  On the outside, Sue Ellen Caldwell was as pretty as a woman could be. Inside, she had to be suffering the consequences of years of junk food. “What if I told you that you could keep your resolutions? Better yet, you give me one month and I’ll promise you will want to keep them.”

  Sue Ellen chuckled. “I’d say you weren’t nearly as smart as you look.”

  He pretended to be offended, then broke down and laughed. “Come on, Sue Ellen. What do you have to lose?”

  “A month of good food?” Her eyes narrowed. “Stop looking at me like that.”

  Bud held his stare until she relented.

  “All right.” She held her hands up in a gesture of surrender, then stood and gathered her plate and fork. “I’ll listen to what you have to say, but I’m not making any promises.”

  “That’s all I ask.” Bud trotted behind Sue Ellen until they reached the house, then he raced ahead to open the door for her.

  “But not tonight.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Tonight I’m going to enjoy myself, and if that means I shock you with chocolate-covered almonds and sweet tea, then so be it. The shop’s closed on Monday. How about we meet over at the Catfish House for lunch on Tuesday and you can educate me?” She shook her head. “No, wait, let’s make it a week from Tuesday. The first week of the year’s always a busy one because I run my New Year, New Do special.”

  “All right,” he said as the sound of the guests’ chatter made conversation nearly impossible. “A week from Tuesday it is. You won’t be sorry. I promise.”

  “I think I already am,” she shouted, but her face belied her statement.

  While Sue Ellen rejoined the party, Bud hung back to watch. There was something special tonight about the cranky beautician. More than just pretty, Sue Ellen Caldwell was, well, the word escaped him.

  He pondered a few choices as Sue Ellen carried on an animated conversation with Leota and Matt. Elegant. Yes, that’s the word his
mama probably would have used. And fancy. Far too fancy for Calista, Mississippi.

  The fact she’d returned to small-town life after so many years away perplexed him. The only family she had left here was Gus. If she felt as though she needed to take care of the old coot, she was most likely about to be relieved of her duties. At least, that’s the way things appeared tonight.

  As far as Bud could tell, Fanny hadn’t left Gus’s side all night.

  When Fanny caught him staring and waved, he returned the gesture, and then went back to thinking about Sue Ellen. Was it possible that surviving the hurricane last year in Biloxi caused her to want to come back and set down roots in Calista?

  “I reckon staring’s the next best thing to speakin’, but I wouldn’t recommend it long term.” Wendell clamped his hand on Bud’s shoulder. “Take it from me, Deputy. If you want a woman, you just have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps, head yourself in the right direction, and take no prisoners. Semper fi, Marine.”

  Bud looked down at the little man and tried to decipher his statement. Wendell, however, had already turned his attention to his bride. When the new groom wandered away toward Sassy, Bud could only watch in amazement.

  If anyone doubted God was in control, they only had to look at the new Mr. and Mrs. Wendell Meeks. No one but the Lord Himself could have made that match.

  Then there was the improbable match between Gus Caldwell and Calista’s favorite grocer. Last Bud heard, Gus had declared himself a bachelor for life.

  Showing up at the party of the year with Fanny meant one of two things: Either Gus had changed his mind, or Gus was up to something.

  Bud would bet his badge the truth lay somewhere in the second option.

  Chapter Eight

  Hey, Bud, it’s almost time.” Gus slapped Bud on the shoulder and grinned. “You’d better not be thinkin’ you’re gonna pair off with my granddaughter for a kiss come midnight. You hear?”

  “Until tonight, I would’ve said that’s about as likely as you pairing off with Fanny.” He grinned. “Say, what was it you said about never marrying again?” Bud gestured to Gus’s date, who was currently in the kitchen with Dottie Jean, Leota, and Sue Ellen talking women talk. “Looks like you might have forgotten to tell someone. From what I hear, Fanny sure doesn’t know.”