by Amanda Tru
“Well. ‘Bout time. Sup’s on.”
At Betsy’s words, Travis lifted his head and looked down at her, then winked. Traci stared up at him, mind blank, heart pounding. As he let go of her hand, she felt the real world flood back, and she gripped her hands in her lap.
Betsy stood behind him, holding a plate piled high with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and gravy. In her other hand she carried a garden salad topped with grilled chicken. She had tucked the bottle of oil and vinegar under her arm.
Travis blushed and slid back into the booth across from Traci. She reached for the fork sitting on top of the white napkin but could not take her eyes off of Travis’ face.
Had she seriously just agreed to get married? Her mother’s office came to mind, with the fake zebra rug and the pink leather furniture. She couldn’t do that to herself. She just couldn’t.
After Betsy walked away, Travis held out his hand for her to take it so that they could pray over the meal together. As she set her fingers into his palm, she said, “Let’s not do a wedding. How about we do something fun instead.”
He stared at her for several seconds as if already disapproving of the notion. “Like what?”
After running her tongue over her teeth, she grinned and said, “I know! How about we say our vows while skydiving over the Grand Canyon? We were going to go there this summer, anyway.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“What about the bridal party? That could get expensive.”
She shook her head. “Just you, me, and a minister.”
His eyebrows knitted. “You’d seriously rather exchange vows alone while free falling a few thousand feet than walk just a few yards down the aisle of our local church with our friends and family there?”
“Yeah! I think it would be amazing!”
He narrowed his eyes and stared at her, finally saying, “Whatever you want. You’re the bride. It’s going to be your day. But you’re going to tell her. Not me.”
Pursing her lips, she asked, “Will you go with me?”
His eyebrow slowly raised. “It’s going to have to be tonight because you and I both know she’ll hear about it before tomorrow.” Gesturing with his head toward Betsy, he squeezed her fingers. “But I will go with you.”
Traci’s family had lived in Charula since the settlement of the town in the early 1800s. She had a list of great-grandfathers who held various official positions within the town, including her own grandfather who had served as mayor for two election cycles. Her mother, Michelle, however, had never really lived up to the Winston family expectations. Not only had she gotten pregnant at fifteen, but she’d also never gotten married and had never had any other children. Traci’s grandfather died complaining that the family name would fade away in a sea of pink tulle and fairy dust.
He did, however, build an apartment on top of the garage where Michelle and Traci lived. He adored Traci and doted on both of them until he died, leaving Michelle his riverfront home that sat at the end of Main Street. Traci still lived in the garage apartment. She couldn’t see the sense in moving out and paying rent somewhere else when now she could walk to work, walk to Travis’ academy, and walk to almost anywhere else she needed. It did put her within arm’s reach of her mother, which could be maddening most of the time, but between work and a busy life, that had less of an impact than it could have.
Tonight, she and Travis walked up to the main house, past the wooden sign at the end of the walkway that read, “Enchanted Events”. A wooden purple butterfly perched on the top of the sign post. Her mother planned and prepared all kinds of events, but took particular delight in weddings.
The downstairs windows glowed with light, so Traci looked through the window to make sure her mother didn’t have a client. At the visual all-clear, she used her key to unlock the front door and stepped into her mother’s world.
To her right sat the sitting room of the house. Her mother had converted it into an office. A fake zebra rug lay spread out on the polished hardwood floor. Pink leather wing-backed chairs faced a glass desk. Pink wallpaper, gold accents, and white bookshelves proclaimed the word feminine with a frilly, satiny, undeniably soprano voice.
To her left sat a waiting room with purple leather couches, a white shag rug, and silver accents. Here, happy couples could browse through color samples, menu ideas, and table settings. Traci knew that through the door of the waiting room, she’d find the dining room set with twelve different settings showing different possibilities. Despite her distaste of the entire ordeal, she thought her mother’s marketing in the dining room rather clever. Potential brides could touch and see and imagine all right there instead of just pictures in a catalog.
“Mama?” Traci yelled, coming into the waiting room.
The dining room door burst open, and Michelle Winston bounded through it. She had perfectly thick and naturally wavy blonde hair that got weekly highlighted touch-ups at her favorite salon, high cheekbones, large blue eyes framed by permanent fake eyelashes and perfectly applied eyeliner, and the kind of figure that swimsuit models hoped they’d have at the age of thirty-five, much less Michelle’s forty. Today she wore a fuchsia colored shirt that clung tightly to her body, white pants belted at her skinny waist, three-inch heels that matched the shirt to perfection, and a gold necklace with a large pink and purple butterfly.
“Traci, darling,” she greeted, coming toward her with arms outstretched. Traci gave her a small hug then immediately stepped away as Michelle exclaimed over Travis’ unplanned visit. “What a nice surprise and, oh, you brought that dashing young man with you, too.”
Travis made a slight bow and greeted, “Good evening, Michelle.”
Her mother nodded in agreement. “Well, it is, now. I can put on the kettle. We can have tea.”
“That’s okay,” Traci said, “we just finished eating.”
Michelle frowned. “So late. That’s not good for you.”
The two-sentence lecture made Traci’s neck bristle, but she would not react. “We have some news,” she said with a tight smile.
“Oh?”
She held up her left hand and displayed the black silicone ring on her finger. “We’re getting married!”
Michelle put both hands up to her face and said, “Oh! Oh! I’m, just so, oh!”
Travis’ arm came around Traci’s waist, and he pulled her close. “I am, too. I was afraid she’d say no.”
“Oh, she couldn’t possibly have said no to you.” She put her arms around both of them and squeezed, then stepped back. “Oh, everything is going to be just perfect! There’s so much to do!”
“Mama!” Michelle had rushed from the room to her office. Traci followed her. “Mama, listen. We’re not going to have a wedding.”
From the white bookshelf behind her desk, her mother pulled out a giant photo album covered in white satin with a large purple butterfly embedded in the front. “Don’t be silly. Of course we’re going to have a wedding.”
She started to open the book, but Traci reached across the desk and put her hand on top of it. She met her mom’s eyes and spoke firmly. “We’re going to go to the Grand Canyon and get married while skydiving.”
Michelle’s eyes widened so wide that her eyelashes flatted against her eyelids. Then her face relaxed. “Pish posh. Do that for a honeymoon. That will be fun, assuming you both survive. We want to do a wedding here, though.”
“We, who?”
She gestured toward her door. “The Seaver girls. Jessica, Justine, and I have been talking about it for about a year now.”
Travis’ sisters owned the Two Sisters Flower Shop down the street. She knew her mother regularly did business with them. She did not know, however, that her mother regularly discussed her business with them. “Listen to me, Mother,” she said through her teeth, “I am not having a wedding. And that is final.” Turning, she saw Travis in the doorway. “Ready to go?”
He looked from her mom to her and frowned. “Really?�
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“I suspect you’re welcome to stay. I’m going home.” She started out of the room and turned to look at her mom. “I know it’s disappointing to you. But, I have never, ever, wanted to put on a dress and walk down an aisle. To tell the truth, I never even much wanted to get married, but I know in my heart that Travis is the one for me. You’re just going to have to take all those ideas you’ve come up with for me and sell them to one of your clients. I’m sure they would make some other girl very happy.”
Brushing past Travis, she stormed through the entryway and out the door. She stopped at the end of the walk and waited for Travis to catch up with her. He did not rush toward her but strolled very purposefully. “That was probably the worst I’ve ever seen you treat her,” he said without preamble.
Traci clenched her teeth until her jaw ached. “I had to be forceful to stop the tide before it grew into a tidal wave. You have no idea what was about to come.”
“Really? Neither did she.” She could hear the annoyance in his voice. He didn’t touch her as he walked by. “I’ll see you later.”
Surprised that he’d leave without a kiss, without a hug, without anything, she watched his back until she couldn’t see him anymore, then stormed across the lawn to the garage. The sound of her boots stomping against the wooden stairs rang out in the night. When she went into her apartment, she slammed the door so hard that the door window rattled in its frame.
Her little apartment provided a refuge against work and against family. It was the only place in the world where she felt she could completely be Traci, without meeting or failing to meet someone else’s expectations.
After her mom moved into the main house, she’d repainted, refurnished, and stripped all of the feminine touches her mother had left and redecorated the entire place. She kept it intentionally simple with a brown leather couch and matching love seat facing the stone fireplace. Above the mantle, her flat-screen television usually just darkly reflected the room back at her. She thought maybe she’d last turned it on during March Madness, when the University of Kentucky’s basketball team played Tennessee. When they lost, she’d turned the television off in disgust and never turned it back on again since. Her mom’s cousin had painted the two paintings that hung on the wall - one of a Kentucky Derby race and the other a horse standing in the snow. She had a trophy shelf filled with sports trophies from high school and the medals she’d acquired running races as an adult. That about summed up her decorations.
Behind the couch sat her little four-person table. She looked through the bar and into the kitchen. She cooked in there about as often as she watched television. She did utilize her blender to make her morning smoothies and the toaster on an occasional bagel.
A little hall led to the two bedrooms connected by a single bathroom. Tonight, she went straight to her bedroom. The hand-made quilt on her bed came from her grandmother and brightened up the otherwise boring and plain room. She set her bag on the bed and immediately unpacked it, putting her service weapon away in her nightstand and confirming that she had a clean uniform for tomorrow. As she got ready for bed, her thoughts went to the confrontation with Travis and wondered about his attitude.
Upon reflection, what she considered his usual annoyance at the time felt stronger. He’d seemed actually angry. Why would he be mad because she’d had to use a firm voice with her mom? She stared at the ring, then took it off and placed it on her dresser.
She’d have to ask him tomorrow. Tonight, she was too tired to think about it. She set her alarm, plugged her phone in, and brushed her teeth. Twenty minutes after walking into the door, she landed in her bed, her eyes already closing.
Travis Seaver pulled into the parking lot at the church and shut off his truck engine. As he got out, he grabbed his binder off of the seat and his bag from the truck’s floorboard. A sharp whistle made him look up, then wave at his friend, Ryan, who stood in the doorway of the school’s gym. He slipped the strap of the bag diagonally over his chest and jogged to the door.
“Hey,” he said, shaking Ryan’s hand. “How’s pastor life?”
“God is good.” Ryan grinned and released his hand. “Thanks for doing this. The homeschool co-op loves any kind of sports activity the kids can all do together.”
“Happy to do it. Thanks for thinking of me. I know you had a lot of options.” They walked together into the gym in silence until Travis quietly asked, “Ryan? Do you have a minute when we finish here?”
Ryan looked at his watch and nodded. “Should, if you’re done in time. I have a two o’clock counseling session.”
Calculating how long he had, he gave a thumb’s up. “We shouldn’t be too long here.”
“All right, man.” Ryan slapped him on the shoulder then addressed the parents and students milling around the gym. “If I could have everyone’s attention, please? This is Travis Seaver. He is a fifth-degree black belt, owns Main Street Taekwondo school, and is what is called a master in the sport. He is here today to give you a brief overview of what his program looks like and to sign everyone up. I’ll turn it over to Master Travis now.”
Travis smiled at the group. “Basically, your co-op will come together as a single class to my studio. I’m adding a special class just for you, and I have negotiated a discounted price with Pastor Ryan.” He set his bag on the table next to him and pulled out a stack of papers. “If you’re interested, here are the applications. Before you ask, I take every child, regardless of any special needs. We can make any necessary reasonable accommodations, too. I have training in every area I can think of and life experience beyond. So, don’t be afraid to sign your child up. If it doesn’t work out for him—or her—then we’ll discuss refunds.”
“The first concern of many parents is that Taekwondo is centered around violence. That isn’t the whole truth. The truth is that many other mainstream sports, such as football for example, are much more randomly violent and participants have a much higher likelihood of sustaining a permanent injury. The fact is that the martial arts are centered on discipline, and mainly self-discipline. Every principle my students learn is about the appropriate application of force. Everything is closely supervised, and safety is our number one concern.”
For the next hour, he handed out applications, answered questions, talked to parents, talked to children, answered more questions, and collected applications from about two-thirds of the people there. As the last parent left, he looked at his watch. He had some extra time to talk to Ryan.
“So, what’s on your mind?” Ryan asked, appearing at his side.
Travis zipped his bag closed and took a deep breath. “I asked Traci to marry me.”
Ryan’s face fell. “Am I to assume it didn’t go well?”
“Actually, she said yes.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Oh. Were you hoping for a different answer?”
Travis grinned. “No. The problem is, well, we went to tell her mom. If you didn’t know, her mom is a wedding planner. Well, an event planner, but weddings are her special thing. Anyway, Traci doesn’t want a wedding. She wants some extreme experience. And I’m mostly okay with that. I just don’t like the way she completely shot her mother down. She was rude. She was mean. And I frankly didn’t like her much at that moment.”
Ryan pursed his lips. “What’s their relationship like? Is she normally like that with her mom?”
Thinking back to the interactions he’d witnessed, he shrugged. “She always seems moderately impatient. But nothing on the scale it was last night.”
“Hmm. Did you say something about it to Traci?”
“I did. She gave me her excuse for acting that way. I didn’t buy it, so I told her good night and went home.” He took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. “To be honest, I don’t know a lot about her and her mom. You’d think after dating for as long as we have that I’d know more, but analyzing it last night, I don’t. I’ve spent a little bit of time with her mom on a few occasions. She’s always really nice. Sh
e has a loving heart, you know?”
“Mama issues don’t develop overnight, and they don’t go away just because a significant other disapproves.” Travis lifted his bag and Ryan took the opportunity to lift the table onto its side and fold in the legs. Travis helped him carry it to lean it against the wall. “You’re going to need to talk to her and get to the root of it.”
“Am I, though, going to need to?”
Ryan turned and faced him fully. “If you want to be Traci’s husband, Travis, then yes, you need to. Do you want to know why?” Obviously taking Travis’ shrug as consent to continue, he said, “Here’s the why. You are going to be her husband, the spiritual head of the family, the leader in the home.”
Travis contemplated leadership as a husband and laughed. “I hardly think Traci is the type of person who will go along with that type of arrangement.”
“That could not be less important, Travis.”
Travis felt his head cock back in surprise. “I think it’s important.”
Ryan shook his head. “Then you need to wise up. Every ship has just one captain. Every marriage has just one high priest.”
Travis grinned. “That’s really old-school, Ryan. No one thinks like that anymore.”
Ryan lifted an eyebrow. “Nevertheless. Traci is not the one who designed how a Christian home should be set up. God is. And He said that the husband is the leader. The term head used in the New Testament is a military term, meaning leader among equals. If your desire is to have a Biblical home that is pleasing to God, then you’re going to need to be willing to step up and be the head, be the leader, the leader among equals. There isn’t a lot of room for negotiating there.”