“Not legally,” answered Mr. MacLane. “It’s less than a five-minute drive to the church. If we drop down to the freeway, we’ll make it in plenty of time. Anyway, I imagine Greg will wait a minute or two for Rosemary.”
No one spoke as they rode down the winding street toward the freeway. The clock in the tower on the city hall said three forty-nine. Still plenty of time. They approached the railroad track beside the approach to the freeway; and as they started up the incline to cross the track, the signal began to wigwag noisily back and forth, and the black-and-white arm descended in front of the car, blocking their path.
“Dad!” cried Rosemary. “Can’t you do something?”
Mr. MacLane glanced at the traffic behind him. It was too late to back up to turn around. Cars had already pulled up behind him. Helplessly the MacLane family sat trapped by the clang-clanging signal.
“Wouldn’t you know?” said Barbara. She thought, It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t stopped to answer the telephone…But if she hadn’t answered it, she would have gone off not knowing it was Bill who called.
“I wonder where the train is?” Mrs. MacLane peered down the track. “Oh, here it comes.”
The diesel engine honked at the crossroad, and the engineer waved, saw that he was holding up a wedding party, grinned, and waved some more.
No one in the car had the heart to wave back.
“A freight train,” cried Rosemary in despair.
“Naturally,” said Gordy. “Passenger trains don’t run on this track anymore.”
The freight cars began to click past. Barbara stared at their red and yellow sides as if hypnotized.
“‘Santa Fe all the way,’” Gordy read from the side of a car. “‘Illinois Central, main line of Mid-America.’ ‘Hydra-cushion for fragile freight.’ ‘Be specific—ship Union Pacific.’ Who do you suppose thinks up these things?”
“It’s a mile long.” The bride was near tears.
“It can’t be. It just seems that way,” said her father, as the cars continued to click by. “I think there is a law limiting the length of freight trains.”
“‘The Milwaukee, route of the Hiawatha,’” Gordy read on. “And here’s ‘Santa Fe all the way’ again.”
Mrs. MacLane had been counting the cars in a dreamlike voice. “Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty…”
“‘Lackawanna, route of Phoebe Snow,’” read Gordy. “Who do you suppose Phoebe Snow is?”
“Maybe she’s a friend of Hiawatha, who has his name on the Milwaukee freight cars,” suggested Mr. MacLane.
“Mother.” The bride sounded frightened. “This is the last time we will all be together. Here, right this minute, with those freight cars going by.”
Mrs. MacLane stopped counting to look over her shoulder at her daughter. “We’ll be together many times, and Greg will be with us, too.”
“But things will be different after I’m married.” Rosemary, still frightened, looked wan and defenseless.
The caboose passed, the signal stopped, the black-and-white arm lifted, and the car moved forward onto the approach to the freeway.
“Of course things will be different,” answered Mrs. MacLane serenely. “You wouldn’t want them to be the same, would you?”
“No…no, I wouldn’t.” Rosemary seemed reassured by the calm in her mother’s voice. “Of course I wouldn’t.”
Two minutes later the car turned off the freeway and drove along the winding street to a little brown church beneath two redwood trees. The trees had been planted too close when the church was new, and now their trunks were crowding the front steps, the branches laced above the entrance. As Barbara stepped out of the car, she could hear the organ playing, and she felt as if she were stepping into a dream. A few guests were hurrying up the steps past the bridesmaids, who were waiting in the vestibule. It was all happening too fast. Gordy had gone into the church, her mother was starting down the aisle on the arm of an usher, the bridesmaids had taken their positions.
Still in a dream, Barbara adjusted the folds of her sister’s wedding veil. As her fingers touched the fragile stuff, she discovered a bee crawling inside the lace. It was a lovely bee, yellow and black and furry. Barbara admired it and could not be alarmed. It seemed to be a bee in a dream, it was so beautiful. She lifted the veil and the bee buzzed and flew out, soaring up into the redwood branches that met over the door of the church. It had not been a phantom bee after all. It was a real bee that might have stung the bride. Barbara’s hands began to tremble.
Rosemary’s radiance had returned. Now it was her father who was nervous. He looked pale and rigid as he stood with his daughter’s hand on his arm, as if someone would have to wind him up with a key before he could move down the aisle. Barbara took her place in front of the bride. The organist led into the wedding march. Here comes the bride. Anne started down the aisle and then Millie.
Now it was Barbara’s turn. As she took her first step on the carpet her nosegay stopped trembling. Her left hand, clenched until it ached, protected Greg’s ring, hidden by her flowers. She was calm, moving as rehearsed, seemingly through no will of her own. How serious Greg looked standing beside his brother, and how far away. The aisle of the church had not seemed this long at the rehearsal. The minister looked so…welcoming. As she walked, Barbara was aware of faces turned toward her—the smiling Amys with their families, Uncle Charlie’s broad round face, her cousin Elinor looking awed, some of Rosemary’s college friends. The congregation began to rise, and she knew that eight beats behind her, her father had got wound up and had started down the aisle with Rosemary on his arm. Finally in the front pew, she saw her mother, looking flushed but tranquil, while her grandmother wiped away a tear with a trembling hand.
Barbara took her place and watched Rosemary and her father moving down the aisle. Rosemary looked so very young as she smiled at Greg that Barbara felt frightened for her. This was too big a step for her to be taking when she barely had the bands off her teeth. She should have waited until she was older. Then Rosemary smiled directly at her sister with such a look of happy confidence that Barbara’s misgivings, although they did not entirely disappear, at least wavered, and she was able to return the smile.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered together…” It seemed to Barbara that their minister was speaking the familiar words as if they had just been created for Rosemary and Greg. They were beautiful old-fashioned words, worn smooth with use, but it seemed to Barbara she was hearing them for the first time. Now the father of the bride had given his daughter in marriage and had stepped back to take his place beside his wife. Barbara had taken her sister’s flowers, and Rosemary’s hand was placed in Greg’s. It seemed to Barbara that the ceremony was going much too quickly. Something so beautiful and important and binding should last longer. Rosemary’s voice was joyful as she spoke her vow, and Greg sounded serious and…reliable, as if, as the older of the two, he was taking the greater share of the responsibility. She will always be safe with him, Barbara thought. Then the minister pronounced Rosemary and Gregory man and wife. Barbara returned her sister’s flowers when Greg had kissed his bride, and as the swell of the organ filled the church she found herself fairly flying up the aisle on the arm of the best man. It was over. Rosemary was married. Behind her nosegay Barbara flexed her fingers, which still ached from the protection she had given the groom’s ring.
Suddenly the whole family was in the garden of the church kissing Rosemary. Even Gordy, looking embarrassed, brushed his lips against her cheek without being prodded. Then Mrs. Aldredge and Aunt Josie were taking charge, forming the wedding party into a receiving line. Now the guests were coming out of the church, and Barbara, in her place beside the bride, found herself greeted, kissed, admired. “A beautiful wedding…how pretty you look…it won’t be many years before you…such a happy couple…a lovely bride, so young…you’ll be next, my dear….” Barbara nodded and smiled and quite irrelevantly watched for Greg’s cousin with the tattooed ears, but she did not see h
im. He must live in the East.
And then, who should come straggling along at the end of the receiving line but Tootie Bodger. Barbara did not know why she should be surprised, since he had been included in the invitation to his family. Perhaps because Gordy always tried to escape any social occasion, she expected all boys to be the same way. “Hello, Barbara,” he said. And since the line had dwindled and the bridesmaids were drifting away, he added, “You sure look pretty in that blue dress.”
“Thank you, Tootie.” Barbara smiled, pleased by the compliment and amused to learn that Tootie was color blind. Now she knew why he had come to the wedding. He had come to see her. My woman’s intuition tells me, she thought happily.
Tootie stepped aside so that a college friend of Greg’s, the one with the beard, who had brought a camera, could take Barbara’s picture. The picture was snapped, and the flashbulb was popped into the photographer’s hand. He held it out to Mrs. Aldredge, who happened to be standing nearby, and said gravely, “Would you care to have this, ma’am? It makes a good darning egg.” Without thinking what she was doing, Mrs. Aldredge thanked him, accepted the bulb, and put it in her bag. A moment later she gave him a puzzled look, as if wondering why she should have taken this odd gift.
A character, thought Barbara. There was probably one at every wedding. At least his method of disposing of old flashbulbs was tidier than dropping them in the church shrubbery. She looked around for Tootie, but he was gone. Never mind. He would be back. She was confident of that. It was then that she remembered Bill Cunningham’s telephone call. It was the first moment she had had time to think of him since she had started for the church. Yes, yes, yes, she had said, an answer that now seemed overenthusiastic, even though she was eager to go bowling with him. She hoped that Bill would understand this was due to the excitement of the moment.
Rosemary was crossing the lawn to cut her wedding cake. Barbara followed, pausing to write her name in the guest book, presented without a giggle by her cousin Elinor, who was obviously proud of the honor that had been bestowed upon her. “Having fun, Ellie?” she asked.
“Oh, yes.” Elinor sighed. “It’s a beautiful wedding.”
Barbara reached the table just as Rosemary was offering Greg the first bite of wedding cake, a moment that the bearded photographer captured before offering another darning egg to another puzzled guest. Then Barbara felt her Uncle Charlie’s arm around her and his kiss upon her cheek. “I’ll bet you can’t wait for your turn, can you?” he asked.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Barbara answered airily, as befitted a girl who was willing to go bowling with a boy but not mend his shirt. She smiled over her uncle’s shoulder at Rosemary.
“You girls are all alike,” said Uncle Charlie. “You can’t wait to get married.” He turned to Rosemary as if expecting her to agree with him.
Rosemary laughed. “You know that’s just wishful thinking, Uncle Charlie. You know you want all the girls to get married so their husbands will buy life insurance from you.”
“That’s right,” agreed Uncle Charlie with a grin, and then he was serious. “You know what I am going to do? I am going to give you and your new husband a twenty-five percent discount on the first year’s premiums on any insurance policy you take out. That is how much I think of you.”
Barbara was touched, understanding that her uncle was offering Rosemary the best he had to give, but she wondered how Rosemary would react. She need not have worried. Rosemary kissed her uncle and said, “Thank you, Uncle Charlie. That’s a valuable gift, and we’ll take you up on it.” Rosemary loved everyone on her wedding day.
Barbara drifted on, pausing to speak to Gordy, who was drinking punch and eating cake alone. “How did you like the wedding, Gordy?” she asked.
“All right, I guess,” he said with his mouth full. “Only why does a wedding have to make everybody so kissy all of a sudden?”
“I guess it just does.” Barbara laughed and went on to speak to her grandmother, who was sitting on a chair someone had brought for her and placed in the shade of a tree. Gramma smiled and said, “You look lovely, my dear, and you’ll be the next bride in the family. Mark my words.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that, Gramma,” answered Barbara. “I have lots of cousins.”
Gramma was suddenly serious. She patted her granddaughter’s hand and said, “That’s right. Don’t you be in a hurry. Marriage brings hardships. Believe me, I know. Have a good time while you are young.”
“I’m trying to, Gramma,” answered Barbara, wondering what memories Rosemary’s wedding was bringing back to her grandmother. Her struggles with the old wood stove perhaps and babies when there was not enough money. Barbara thought, too, of that dark hall Rosemary was going to clean as part of her new duties as a landlady and of those four garbage cans lined up under the back stairs.
“You’re only young once,” Gramma reminded Barbara.
“That’s what they tell me,” answered her granddaughter, and turned to speak to Millie.
“I had no idea weddings were such fun,” said Millie. “I hope I won’t be always a bridesmaid, never a bride.”
“Bob seems interested,” Barbara pointed out.
“I wish I didn’t have to go back to Blackfoot so soon.” Millie looked a little anxious. After the reception the MacLanes were to take her home to change her clothes and pick up her luggage before they drove her across the bay to catch the evening train north.
“There’s always next semester,” Barbara reminded her. “You’re sure to meet on the campus and, anyway, you and Bob are more or less kissing kin. You know. The bride’s ex-roommate and the groom’s brother.”
Millie nodded. “That’s stretching it a point, but I see what you mean. Maybe the bride and groom will invite us to dinner.”
Millie wandered off, and for a moment Barbara stood alone watching the guests. Her father was talking to the minister; her mother, looking a little tired now, was talking to some friends of the Aldredges’. Tootie and Gordy were drawn together by a mutual feeling of being out of place. Rosemary and Greg and Anne were surrounded by their college friends. Anne was agreeing to going on to San Francisco with some of the crowd. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. The level of the punch bowl had dropped; the cake, which one of the Amys had finished cutting for Rosemary, was almost gone—there might be enough left for the family for supper, if they could remember to take it home. Barbara, knowing she would not be included in the college group going to San Francisco, was beginning to feel left out. There was no place for her to go but home with her family to eat leftover wedding cake. “I know a restaurant out in North Beach that serves tagliarini al pesto,” someone was saying to Anne, “and we could all go on to that place that has flamenco music.”
Greg whispered something to Rosemary. She looked up at him, nodded, and smiled. Barbara felt a twinge of sadness. The wedding was almost over. It had been a lovely wedding, all she had ever dreamed of for her sister. The sun had shone, the flowers were beautiful….
Then Tootie was by her side. “Look, could I drive you home?” he asked. “Mom and Dad said they would go home with friends, so I can have the car.” He looked anxious, afraid that she might turn him down with another flimsy excuse.
“I would love a ride home,” agreed Barbara, glad to postpone the inevitable letdown after the wedding a while longer. “With the college crowd going off to the city, I was feeling sort of left out.”
“Uh…I don’t know whether you would be interested or not, but there’s a folk song concert over at Hertz Hall tonight. If we drove over now, we could probably get tickets and then have something to eat someplace near the university before the concert.”
The apprehension in Tootie’s gray eyes told Barbara he was afraid she might not be pleased by his suggestion. She smiled encouragingly. “It sounds like fun, Tootie,” she answered. “I like folk songs. I—I’ve learned quite a few in the past year. But I will have to go home and change my dress first. I can’t go o
ver to the university dressed like a bridesmaid.”
“Sure,” agreed Tootie, relief in his voice. “There’s plenty of time.”
Why…I have dates with two boys for the same weekend, Barbara thought suddenly. Me. The sister of the bride. She was not left out at all. She was beginning to live a life of her own.
Now the word was circulating through the guests that the bride was about to throw her bouquet. Anne took Barbara by the hand. “Come on,” she said. “I’m sure all my basketball playing is good practice for this.” Smiling back over her shoulder at Tootie, Barbara allowed herself to be led away.
“Where’s Millie?” she asked, and found her by the table talking to Bob. “Millie! Come on,” she called. “Rosemary is going to throw her bouquet.” Millie, too, smiled back over her shoulder at Bob as she joined the girls.
Mrs. Aldredge was taking charge once more. “Why don’t you throw it from the steps of the church?” she suggested.
“Good idea.” Rosemary ran lightly up the steps and stood facing the gathering beneath the laced branches of the twin redwoods. “Elinor! Where’s Elinor?” she asked. “She should have a chance to be the next bride, too.”
Blushing with pleasure, the younger girl came through the crowd to join Barbara and the bridesmaids.
“Ready?” Rosemary held up her flowers.
The girls held out their arms as Rosemary tossed her bouquet toward them. It was Elinor who ran forward and caught the roses and lilies of the valley in her arms. The friends who had gathered to watch laughed affectionately.
“Elinor is going to be the next bride!” cried Rosemary, as Greg came forward and took her by the hand.
For an instant Barbara was disappointed. She had dreamed of catching her sister’s bouquet, but when she saw the pure delight shining on Elinor’s chubby face her disappointment faded. Along with the roses and lilies of the valley Elinor was welcome to her dreams of being the next bride. That was all it had been—a dream, a childish dream. It was funny, but now that she suddenly had dates with two boys for the same weekend a lot of things were changed. Life was interesting, something to be explored, and a wedding did not seem nearly so desirable. Tootie and Bill. What a pair. She did not even know which she preferred, Bill’s thoughtless exuberance or Tootie’s fumbling seriousness. But she did know one thing—it was going to be fun to find out.
Sister of the Bride Page 19