Runny03 - Loose Lips

by Rita Mae Brown

  “I don’t want to love like that,” Mary determinedly said.

  “Juts, I lay this at your door. You and your mooning over Chessy. He’s barely got a pot to piss in.” Louise pointed her finger in her sister’s face. “You’re full of those cockeyed ideas.”

  “We live in a nice house.” Juts held on to her rising temper.

  “You wouldn’t have a thing if it weren’t for my castoffs—or Celeste’s. It’s a sure bet Mother Smith wouldn’t give you a moldy loaf of bread.”

  “Louise, I am taking into account the fact that you are overwrought—”

  “Overwrought? I am ready to kill.” She inhaled slowly, then blew out the air with violence. “You’re not a mother. You can’t understand how I feel.”

  Julia had heard that one too often, but this time she wasn’t going to take the bait. She didn’t know if her niece was in trouble or not. She didn’t want Mary to run off, though. Nor did she want the kid to have to battle her mother the rest of her life. Louise needed to bend to keep her daughter’s love and keep her family together. Juts had lived for fourteen years as wife to a man whose mother made certain, every day, that she was found wanting. It wasn’t a great feeling. At first you ignored it. Then you got angry. Finally, you went dead on that score, but the bad thing was that you started to go dead about other things, too, other people. It spiraled out of control, that numb feeling.

  “Louise, you’re a good mother—”

  “Well, thank you,” Louise mocked.

  “Momma birds push babies out of the nest. Mary’s ready to fly from the nest. Everything you taught her will stay with her. Don’t worry so. She’s picked a boy you don’t like. But Wheezie, he’s good-hearted—” She caught her breath. “—I hope. Half the time the kid didn’t get enough to eat and you know that’s the truth! That little boy started working for food when he was seven years old. If you don’t know anything else about him you know he’s not lazy. He’s found Mary and she’s found him. Let the Lord work His wonders. After all, He brought them together.”

  Involving the Lord was Julia’s masterstroke.

  Louise puckered her red lips. Nothing came out of them, not even a slow hiss before speaking.

  Mary, too, was speechless.

  Finally Louise recovered her voice. Although her sister had reached her with a compelling argument, she had to know the truth. In a calm voice, she asked, “Mary, before I can make any decision, I have to know. Are you pregnant?”

  Mary burst into tears. Louise had her answer.

  Juts patted Mary’s hand. “It’s okay, kid. You’re not the first.”

  Louise, deflated, began to cry. “Oh, Mary, how could you? After all I have taught you.”

  “That won’t help now.” Julia faced the two women, who were exploding in tears. “All the training in the world can’t change Mother Nature.” Before Wheezie could marshal her moral objections, Juts continued. “Mary, you weren’t wise. You have to recognize that you did something that can’t be undone. Even if it all turns out right, you have changed your whole life without letting us all sit down and think it through—your future, I mean.”

  “I know,” Mary bawled. “But I love him.” A gust of emotion overtook the tears.

  “Louise?”

  Pale, Louise croaked, “I can’t believe she’d do that to me.”

  “She didn’t do it to you, Sis. She did it to herself. How much did you think about other people at fifteen? The kid’s in a jam. Like it or not, we’re her family. We have to help.”

  Steadier now, Louise asked her daughter, “Does he know?”

  “Yes. He asked me last week to marry him.”

  “Last week!”

  Juts held up her hand. “He did the right thing. Let’s not quibble about time.”

  “I didn’t know how to tell you.” Mary sobbed anew.

  Julia, in a clear voice, said, “Give them your blessing. Give her a proper Catholic wedding. Pearlie will have to counsel Billy on his obligations. Chester can help too. That’s between men. Between us, we can welcome him into the family.”

  Louise fought back the tears. “I don’t want her to get hurt.”

  “She’s going to get hurt anyway. She might as well do it on her own terms.”

  “What do you mean, Aunt Juts?”

  “She means Billy will run around on you.”

  “He will not!”

  Julia held up her hands for silence. “I said no such thing. I don’t know what will happen. All I know is every now and then Life sticks his boot up your ass. You live through it. Louise, don’t put words in my mouth. Mary, if your parents do this for you, then you have to finish school before getting a job.”

  This prospect was not appetizing but Mary nodded in agreement.

  A long, long silence ensued. Outside they could hear the crunch of feet as people walked past the store. Every now and then Julia waved at someone.

  Finally, Louise half whispered, “Well, Mary, it is your life. I’ve had my chances. I guess you have to take your chances.”

  Mary scrambled over to her mother and hugged her. Then they indulged in a joint cry.

  Juts, tired after this rake and scrape-up, cut the overhead lights. She thought being an aunt was hard work; being a mother must be hell, and yet look at them now.

  25

  Mom, I can’t find my bouquet.” Maizie frantically wrung her hands.

  “You will find it!” Louise ordered.

  “But Mom, I can’t remember anything.” The young girl, hair in a shiny pageboy, leaned against the church room wall.

  “Don’t wrinkle your dress. That dress cost almost as much as your sister’s bridal gown. I don’t remember prices being this high when I got married.”

  “She gets to wear your veil. That ought to save some money,” Maizie replied, the first signs of teenage rebellion brewing.

  Ignoring this, Louise, worn out and fresh out of patience, grilled her younger child. “Where have you been in the last twenty minutes?”

  “I went to the bathroom.”

  “Well, did you leave the bouquet in there?”

  “I don’t know. There’s always someone in there.”

  “I’d start there.”

  “What if it isn’t there, Mom?”

  “Then think of the other places you’ve been.” Louise checked her watch. “And work backward.”

  “All right.” Maizie wobbled off in her high-heeled shoes toward the bathroom.

  “Everything looks perfect in the church.” Juts hurried past the retreating Maizie. “Aunt Dimps is up at the organ with Terry Tinsdale—just in case.”

  “Father O’Reilly said if we didn’t use our own church organist it would break her heart.” Louise exhaled. “Personally, I don’t think Terry Tinsdale can carry a tune with a bucket. And now Maizie can’t find her bouquet. I think she’ll break her ankle thanks to those high heels.”

  Juts came over and put her arm around her sister, who was so frazzled she could barely draw breath. “Everything’s going to be fine, Sis.”

  “It better be, because there’s nothing else I can do about it.” Louise’s head snapped up again. “Celeste’s car! I forgot to pick it up this morning.”

  “Done. It’s sitting right out in front of the church.”

  “Where’s Momma?”

  “Plopped in the front row.”

  “What about fur-face?” Louise said sourly, referring to Hansford.

  “He’s there, too, with a pink rosebud in his lapel.”

  “Juts, Juts, I forgot the satin cushion for the rings!”

  “Father O’Reilly has it and he had the satin cleaned, just like you requested. Now, take a deep breath and count to ten. This is going to be a beautiful sunrise wedding. Your husband looks as handsome as the day you married him. He’s upstairs with Mary. She needs a rope to keep her from floating into the sky, but Pearlie’s in charge up there. The best thing you can do is to give yourself a few minutes of rest.”

  What Juts didn’t
say was that the speed of the wedding had tested her organizing skills as well as Louise’s. The fact that Mary insisted it be at sunrise added to the exhaustion. She wanted an original wedding.

  Louise’s eyes filled with tears. “Juts, I want Mary to be happy.”

  “Then smile, because she is today. The future will take care of itself.”

  “I guess.” A ragged intake of breath garbled the “guess.” “Are Billy’s people here?”

  “His mother. His father hasn’t been home for three days, so she says. Chessy is with him, saying whatever men say to each other in a situation like this.”

  “Chessy’s a good egg.” Louise folded her hands together, trying to compose herself. “I guess we aren’t the only people in Runnymede with a worthless father.” Juts didn’t reply, so Louise continued. “What time is it?”

  “We’ve got about ten more minutes.”

  “I really should see Mary one more time.”

  “Look!” Maizie burst in waving her bouquet.

  “Where’d you leave it?”

  “With Mary.”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s giggling a lot. Ha-ha,” Maizie sarcastically said. “And I still don’t see why I have to be on the end of the line. I’m her sister.”

  “Your bridesmaid is your best friend, Maizie. We’ve been over this.” Louise glared at her. “The way you two carry on you’re lucky to be in this wedding at all. And for another thing, you are the shortest person up there. You have to be on the end.”

  “Who was your bridesmaid?”

  “I was,” Juts answered.

  “See,” Maizie said, a touch too loud.

  “Maizie, my wedding was very different from Mary’s wedding. For one thing, it wasn’t slapped together at the last minute. You shut up and play your part or I’ll yank you out of that bridesmaid’s line faster than you can say ‘Jack Rabbit.’”

  Maizie bit her lip, turned on her heel, and stalked out.

  “Oh dear God, let me live long enough to be a burden to my children. I want to destroy their furniture, break their plates, interrupt their sleep, and contradict them morning, noon, and night. I want to cost them money.”

  Juts laughed, then Louise had to laugh at herself. Juts checked her watch again, “Well, mother of the bride, let’s go down the aisle and sit. My feet hurt.”

  Louise, motionless for a minute, blinked, then nodded. The sisters walked out into the vestibule and then, shoulder to shoulder, strolled down the center aisle as the congregation stood to honor the mother.

  Back in the groom’s room, Jacob Epstein, in his rented morning suit, together with Extra Billy’s two brothers in their rented clothes, nervously blinked, paced, and breathed deeply. Billy’s broad shoulders filled his gray tailcoat.

  The groom cleared his throat. “Mr. Smith, I really do appreciate you being here with me.”

  Chester smiled. “Billy, that’s the fourth time you’ve thanked me. I’m happy to be here.”

  “Guess I’m a little jumpy.”

  “Billy”—Chester put his hand on his shoulder—“in about twenty minutes’ time the ceremony will be over and you’ll be a married man. Everything changes. I think when we get married we’re thinking a lot about the physical part, but it takes more than that to make a partnership.”

  “Sir,” Billy agreed.

  “I think if I had three lifetimes I’d never understand women. They are peculiar.” Chessy smiled at the big young man in front of him. “But you’ve got to pull it together, talk to each other, and overlook the little niggling things that get under your skin. And one more thing—tell her you love her. Sometimes we think they know it, but for whatever reason, women need to hear it more than we do.” He held out his hand. “I wish you all the luck in the world.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Smith.” Billy shook his hand as the organist played the groom’s cue.

  “I’ll walk you to the aisle.”

  He led the fellows to the aisle to the right of the altar. “Billy, count to five to give me time to get to my seat. Okay?” When Billy nodded, he winked at him. “You picked a wonderful girl.” Then he quietly slipped down the side aisle.

  As the music ended, Billy and his groomsmen silently filed out in front of the altar. They stood ramrod straight.

  The bride’s march boomed. Mary appeared in the vestibule, her father next to her, fighting back his tears. He kissed her quickly through her veil before they started down the aisle. Maizie brought up the rear, dreaming of her own wedding someday. Billy turned when he heard the bride’s march, and the sight of Mary, dazzling in her white bridal gown, brought a smile of pure joy to his face. No one in the congregation that day would ever forget the look on Extra Billy Bitters’s face. It truly was a love match.

  Louise cried in her lace handkerchief. Juts put her arm around her, the tears welling up in her eyes, too. Why, she didn’t know. Maybe hope pulled the tears up, the hope that somehow these two would survive together, survive the curveballs life throws at you, and survive their own shortcomings.

  Even Chester cried.

  Juts glanced across the aisle, noticing that Millard Yost dabbed his eyes. The she remembered a poster he had put up in every storefront window in Runnymede when his Irish setter ran off.

  LOST

  SEAMUS, FAT IRISH SETTER

  NEUTERED, LIKE ONE OP THE FAMILY

  Her shoulders heaved. Louise hugged her tighter, thinking the sacrament was touching Juts to her deepest core. Then she noted her younger sister’s face.

  “Stop it,” Louise whispered in a hiss.

  “I can’t.” Juts nearly choked.

  “I am going to name my first ulcer after you.” Louise jabbed Juts so hard with her elbow that an audible oomph could be heard behind the sisters. People assumed both were overcome with emotion. In that, they were correct. Fortunately, conventional sentiment obscured just what those emotions were. People see what they want to see.

  Juts felt Chessy’s strong hand take hers and gently squeeze. She pulled herself together but she knew she’d never be able to think about this wedding without thinking about Seamus, the fat Irish setter.

  The bride and groom drove around the square on their way to Baltimore for their honeymoon. Extra Billy turned on the radio when they were about five miles out of town. He pulled a U-turn, heading back to Runnymede on that frosty December 7 morning.

  PART TWO

  26

  It’s funny what sticks in the mind after a seismic shock, sticks in the mind like leftover cotton fluttering on a picked boll.

  The shop was always closed on Sunday and Monday, so Julia and Louise walked Buster and Doodlebug around the square. Even the dogs were subdued. The post office on the north side was behind the sumptuous City Hall Building on the square. Built of granite with Doric columns, whereas City Hall had Ionic columns, the post office loomed. Two enormous braziers, half a story high, flanked the steps. Even though pale winter light filtered through the glowing clouds, the flames in the braziers were lit. A line of young, middle-aged, and even old men stretched down the Emmitsburg pike; another line curled around City Hall almost to Hanover Street.

  The sisters, arm in arm, stared with mouths agape. Billy Bitters, a worn scarf wrapped around his neck, patiently waited. As soon as he’d heard the news on the radio he had turned the car around and headed home. The honeymoon would have to wait. He was surrounded by Ray Parker, Jacob Epstein, Doak Garten, and other friends. He smiled and waved at the Hunsenmeirs. Juts waved back. Louise nodded. It was bad enough that he had married her daughter. Now he was going to leave her.

  They walked over to the South Runnymede post office, a more modest affair of white frame with a long porch and green shutters. The American flag flew at half-mast, as did the flag of Maryland, an exceptionally beautiful red, black, and yellow state flag, quartered with the coat of arms of Lord Baltimore. The post office faced Baltimore Street. One line of men snaked west along the square, with stragglers queuing up in the al
leyway between the library and the P.O. Yet another line stretched east clear down Baltimore Street. Paul Trumbull and Chester Smith, side by side, stood in the line down Baltimore Street.

  Juts left Louise and ran. It took Louise a second until she saw her husband standing there in the cold. She, too, ran toward him.

  “Chester, don’t do this. You’re thirty-six. You’re too old.”

  “Honey, go home.”

  “You can’t go to war. I’ll starve!” came the plaintive wail.

  “You won’t starve.”

  “They won’t take you. I’m telling you, you’re wasting your time.”

  “Julia Ellen, this is no place for you.”

  “Why not? There are even some women in the line.”

  “Well, uh—two people from the same family can’t enlist,” he fibbed.

  Meanwhile Louise harangued Pearlie. He was quite firm with her.

  Finally the tearful sisters left. Since they were halfway through paying off their debt, they wandered into Cadwalder’s, only to find Flavius Cadwalder in tears, too.

  “Girls, excuse me.” He wiped his eyes.

  “Where’s Vaughn?”

  “He was in front of the post office at six this morning in the freezing cold.” Pride as well as worry shone on his face. “Vaughn has enlisted in the Army. He was the very first person to sign up today.”

  “Well—” Juts thought a moment, and then said, “You raised a wonderful son. He’ll be a fine soldier.”

  He pressed to his face one of the thin white cotton towels used for wiping glassware.

  Louise reached over the counter and patted his shoulder. “Flavius, everything will be okay.”