The Rejected Writers' Christmas Wedding

by Suzanne Kelman

  Flora looked distraught. I grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry, he just needs some space. We’ll see him when we get back home.

  Just after midday, Martin and I arrived back with the twins and entered the totally, eerily silent cottage.

  “Mommy, we’re home,” sang Livvy. Her brother, whose vocal skills weren’t quite as developed as his sister’s, echoed something similar.

  I crept up the stairs and tiptoed into Stacy’s room to find both her and Chris, asleep in each other’s arms. I felt my heart stir. This had to be a good sign.

  Moving back downstairs, I kept the twins occupied by making a gingerbread house until their parents woke two hours later.

  The twins ran to greet them and pulled them toward the table.

  “House, Momma, house,” said Livvy as James bounced up and down.

  Stacy hugged them both.

  “Let’s see what you have been making with Grandma,” she said, giving me a heartfelt hug. She whispered in my ear, “Thanks, Mom, for everything.”

  I felt my eyes tear up.

  Chris arrived down the stairs, lifted James, and went over to look at the house. They interacted with their children in that easygoing way that assured me things were better between them.

  Later, once the twins and Chris had gone out to see Grandpa’s model trains in his workshop, Stacy curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea.

  I didn’t even have to broach the subject. She brought it up.

  “It’s amazing what a night of eight hours’ sleep will do,” she said with a yawn. “I can’t believe how wonderful being awake feels.”

  I joined her on the sofa. “You and Chris both look a lot better.”

  She grabbed my hand. “We talked for hours, more than we’ve talked in the last eighteen months. I realized so much of the resentment I was feeling toward him was actually toward motherhood. I love the kids with my whole heart, you have to know that. But I need more.”

  “Of course,” I said, nodding as I took a sip of my tea.

  “And so, I’ve decided to go back to work. Just part time, but as soon as we made the decision, I felt this whole weight lift from my shoulders. I always thought I would have a nanny, but when we nearly lost them early in the pregnancy and then with them being preemies, I just didn’t feel I could trust anyone else with them.”

  “The Momma Bear instinct.” I smiled. “I remember it well.”

  “Working again is right for me, and it’s right for our family,” she said. “I know I will be a much better mother and wife if I’m not always so worn out.”

  I stroked her hand. “You look so much better. What about you and Chris?”

  “Chris is going to talk to his boss about not traveling so much, and my extra income should take a lot of pressure off him doing overtime. And we are going to start having date nights.

  “We went out for dinner in town last night, and I couldn’t believe how wonderful it was to laugh with him again, not to mention eating a whole meal while it was still hot. We were like newlyweds.” Her eyes welled with tears. “It’s been so hard, Mom; I didn’t realize until the twins weren’t here.”

  I put down my tea and hugged her. As she sobbed into my shoulder, she said, “I had no idea what an amazing mom you were until I tried to do this job. And now I know. I know I really didn’t appreciate you until I had the kids. I love you and Dad so much.”

  I hugged her tightly and started to cry, too. She had no idea how long I had wanted to hear those words.

  As the men arrived back in with the twins, they found us there, sobbing. Martin stopped dead. “Who died while we were gone? We only left you for twenty minutes.”

  I blew my nose and dismissed him with a wave of my hand. “No one, we’re just bonding, that’s all.”

  He shook his head. “Isn’t that what me and Chris were doing in the workshop? I didn’t feel the need to soak his shirt in the process.”

  Chapter 20

  A Scary Singer & a Bear with Rings

  In the morning, the ladies of the Rejected Writers’ Book Club arrived at Flora’s cottage, whispering in hushed tones in the kitchen.

  “I’ve tried to put off people’s questions about Flora and Dan,” I informed them. “I have just been telling people they were having some time apart from each other before the wedding.”

  “Do you think they’ll go through with it?” whispered Annie.

  “I’m not sure at this point,” I said. “We’ll just keep moving ahead and hope for the best.”

  By midmorning, dressed in her bridal gown, Flora was the saddest bride that we’d ever seen. We all tried to cheer her spirits.

  Lottie hugged her. “Come on, Flora. It’s going to turn out OK. Dan is a smart man. He’ll come around.”

  When Martin and our twin grandbabies arrived, Livvy and James tore around the house in their wedding clothes. Ten minutes before she was to leave for the wedding, Flora walked out onto the sidewalk. From all around, groups of neighbors had gathered together to get a glimpse and a photo of the bride as she left. Flora was nervous, but she also seemed touched by their presence. It was as if she’d forgotten that to all these people, she was part of their family. She climbed in the car, and Martin slid in beside her. He seemed in his usual jovial mood and cracked jokes as we sat waiting for the chauffeur. He was to arrive with Flora.

  As I made my way toward my car with our twins, Doris arrived with Ethel and Gracie by her side. She grabbed my arm and hissed, “The groom isn’t there. I suggest you get that chauffeur to drive very slowly to the Labettes’.”

  I nodded and had a quiet word with the driver. The car pulled away at a snail’s pace as neighbors cheered and threw confetti.

  I arrived ahead of them, and even though the chauffeur drove slowly, when they arrived at the Labettes’ garden fifteen minutes later, there was still no sign of Dan. The wedding guests seemed relieved to see the bride arrive at least, but the whole topic of conversation circling the grounds and in the chapel, was about the groom, or the lack of him.

  We got out of the cars, and Flora was ushered into the gardens for some pre-wedding photos, and then went to the downstairs parlor, where she’d be waiting until the start of the wedding. Flora walked into the hallway and grabbed Lavinia’s arm. “Is he here?”

  Lavinia shook her head. “I’m sorry, honey, he hasn’t arrived yet. But we’ve sent Ruby over there. You just sit tight for a while.”

  I walked into the little white chapel, and it was magical. At the front, a newly cut spruce tree took up the whole corner, its fresh piney scent mingling with the jasmine from the candles that decorated the aisle and creating an intoxicating aroma. It stood about twelve feet to the ceiling and was decorated with satin ribbons and baubles in Flora’s pink and mauve colors. Hanging throughout the branches, crystal icicles glimmered against tiny white lights and miniature bride and groom ornaments hung on long silver strands. Flowers of Flora’s choice had been threaded into long garlands and completed the decorations of the tree. About the room, winter plants and white and pink poinsettias were everywhere. At the far end, in the arched window with its stunning vista of the rolling blue waves of the Sound, was a huge bouquet of fragrant white lilies.

  As I tiptoed down the aisle with the twins to find Stacy, I looked at all the eager and expectant faces. Everyone I knew and loved was there.

  Ernie smiled at me and patted my hand as I passed him. He sat near the back, wearing a dapper brown suit with a white flower in his buttonhole. Next to him was Mrs. Bickerstaff, her face pinched in concern. The next row down, Annie sat next to Ethel and Gracie. Gracie wore a pink fairy costume and her signature boa, and Ethel, a no-nonsense suit. Behind them, on the end of the aisle, was our hypochondriac costumer from the show the year before, June Horton. She had her usual plastic shopping bag tucked between her legs on the floor and was sucking on one of her cough sweets.

  “I won’t shake hands with you,” she whispered to me as she grabbed my arm. “I think I’ve got the flu.” I nodd
ed uneasily as I held my breath through a clenched smile.

  Stacy, behind June, reached out for me, and I handed her the twins. She was lovely in a periwinkle-blue dress, and Chris looked handsome by her side in a gray suit. I told her it might be a little late starting, so I would come back for the twins. She nodded, and she and Chris took a twin each and put them on their laps.

  As I moved back up the aisle, I waved to Karen, my library manager. Dan’s parents sat on the other side, looking very elegant next to a very overdressed and bored-looking Marcy. Dan’s mom gave me a strained smile.

  I made my way back to the house to wait with the wedding party and noticed Doris parading up and down in front of the main gates in her robes.

  Fifteen minutes later, we were still waiting.

  “We need to do something about the guests.” Lottie rubbed her hands together nervously. “They’re starting to get antsy in there.”

  “I know: I’ll sing them a song,” said Lavinia decisively. Everyone in the room stopped for a minute and stared at her.

  Lottie was the first to speak. “Lavinia, honey, you might not remember this, but you don’t sing.”

  “So now would be a good time for me to learn,” she answered, making her way out to the garden. “Don’t you think?”

  I followed her cautiously. As I reentered the chapel, Gladys arrived behind me. She was dressed in a mishmash ensemble that looked as if she’d thrown it together at the last minute, and I wasn’t sure she had even been invited. She nudged me as I hovered about at the back of the room and asked me in a very loud voice, “Did the groom ditch her? I have big money riding on this. I’ve come to collect my—” She stopped short when she caught sight of Lavinia, who had now found a microphone.

  “Hi, y’all. I’d like to thank you for coming. There’s been a little bit of a delay, so I’ve decided to sing you a little song until we can get things moving.”

  “Good grief,” said Gladys. “Doesn’t she know everyone is already in enough pain?” Wide-eyed, she slipped into the back pew to watch the car wreck.

  Olivia, the music director from our show the year before, was seated two rows down from the back, dressed in a lovely high-waisted red lace dress, with one of her pearl-and-velvet chokers. She turned to me, alarm registering on her face. She had tried to have Lavinia sing a solo in our show and had given up, declaring her tone deaf. And now she was going to sing. Yodeling aside, no one had ever heard Lavinia sing a song in public before, but once she started, no one was ever going to want to hear Lavinia sing again.

  Lavinia said something to the pianist, who eyed her distrustfully but reluctantly started to play. Then Lavinia took up her mic and started singing: “See the pyramids along the Nile, watch a sunrise on a tropical isle . . .”

  Having more than my fill of the painful performance, I crept back to the house to check on Flora. I opened the door just as Lavinia belted out the chorus: “Just remember, you belong to me.”

  “Oh dear God,” said Lottie, going pale. “She thinks she’s Patsy Cline.”

  It was as Lavinia was hitting the high notes in the second verse that Flora stood up and made a decision. “This has gone far enough,” she said. “I’m going to go in there. If Dan is not coming, then I’m going to tell everyone.”

  As she threw back her veil, Lottie called out to heaven, “Oh God, we need your strength.”

  Flora reached the chapel just as Lavinia belted out the last line, which was met with a mixture of shock and gratefulness that it was all over as the congregation clapped despondently.

  The doors flew open, and Flora marched down the aisle with determination.

  Mrs. Hemlock, who had been commissioned by Doris to play for the wedding, had been watching the proceedings with interest. It was indeed an unusual wedding. For one thing, neither the bridegroom nor the best man were waiting at the front, and now this odd woman and her performance were starting the ceremony.

  She suddenly noticed the bride moving toward her.

  Mrs. Hemlock started to play the Wedding March but noticed that Flora seemed to be taking the march literally. She’d never seen a bride come down the aisle at such a clip. She obviously really wanted to get married.

  But to whom? thought the pianist as her fingers flew over the keys, trying to keep up with the bride’s brisk pace. Mrs. Hemlock shook her head. She hoped it wasn’t going to be odd, like one of those modern weddings where people got dressed up as Star Trek characters and the grooms sang like Elvis. It was all very unsettling, and here today, a bride was galloping down the aisle without even a groom to come to. She continued to speed up, playing as fast as she could to match Flora’s long strides. She’d only just gotten to her third bar before Flora was at the front. No, she thought as she sighed, these modern weddings stink.

  Flora turned to face the crowd. They all looked up at her in smiling anticipation. The brides voice shook as she tried to speak.

  “Hello,” she said. “I’m sorry you’ve all been sitting here, but there is something I need to tell you.”

  Suddenly, the chapel door flung open and ricocheted off the back wall, and Doris came galloping down the aisle, her white robes flapping up and down like a distressed seagull.

  Mrs. Hemlock started to play the music again. She had played for a lot of gay weddings lately and she didn’t like to judge anyone, but these two sure were an odd couple. She started to play from where she’d left off. She once again had to hurry her pace, as Doris was also moving at a clip, followed by another young man.

  Oh, thought Mrs. Hemlock, maybe this is the groom or the best man? He seemed to be running to catch up with Doris. Then another woman ran in, grabbed two children, and hustled them back out again. Why were all these people rushing around so much? It wasn’t like marriage was going to go out of fashion.

  The woman in the robes got to the front, grabbed the bride by the arm, and whispered something into her ear.

  The bride flushed. She pulled back down her veil and stepped back up the aisle at a more orderly pace, smiling nervously to people as she made her way.

  This threw Mrs. Hemlock for a loop. Should she play the exit music or the entrance music? These people were coming and going like no tomorrow, and as far as she could fathom, a wedding hadn’t even taken place.

  Suddenly, another tall man with dark curly hair and emerald eyes raced in and up the aisle. Mrs. Hemlock threw her hands up in despair. This young man stopped and met the bride halfway.

  The whole room heard the bride say through newly glistening tears, “You came.”

  “I did.”

  Mrs. Hemlock sat with her hands hovering over the keys. She really wasn’t sure what to play. She thought for a minute of playing a reprise of “You Belong to Me” but was afraid that frightful woman would get up and sing again. Besides, she wasn’t sure who belonged to whom.

  “See you in a minute,” said the bride, grabbing and squeezing his arm.

  “Yes,” he said, turning to her.

  “I love you,” she shouted behind her as she exited the chapel. It was loud enough that everyone heard it and clapped while the groom joined the best man at the front of the aisle.

  Mrs. Hemlock shook her head and pulled out a magazine. She wasn’t going to play another note until somebody told her what she was supposed to be playing. She wasn’t a mind-reader, for goodness sake.

  As the groom straightened up at the front of the aisle, money passed hands in the congregation behind him as bets were collected. The groom had indeed shown up. The optimists had won.

  We all moved into the garden and watched from the doorway as Doris made her way into the chapel . . . again. She was out of breath and red in the face, but she did her best to look solemn as she placed her hands together and walked prayerfully down the aisle.

  Doris nudged Mrs. Hemlock, and “The Wedding March” started for the third time. Livvy tripped down the center of the aisle as we had practiced with her at home, throwing handfuls of petals and keeping a few to put into her m
outh as she went. Everybody gushed at how cute she was. One down, one to go, I thought.

  I gave James his pink velvet cushion to hold with the two rings firmly tied to it. “Remember,” I instructed him, “you are the ring bearer. It’s a very important job. You have to give this cushion to the man right at the front.” James’s eyes grew wide, and even as small as he was, he seemed to understand the gravity of his job.

  Coyly, he started toddling down the aisle, and then suddenly, he turned to the people on the left and started growling and fixed his little hand into a clawlike shape. Then he continued down the aisle and did the same to the people on the right.

  “What is he doing?” Martin asked as we watched him.

  “I have no idea.” I shook my head.

  He made it as far as his mother, who leaned out to him, I assumed to ask him the same question. “I’m the ring bear!” he shouted out.

  The whole congregation sniggered as he continued down the aisle, growling all the way to the front.

  Lavinia and Lottie headed down the aisle, looking as impeccable as always. Then, lastly, Martin and Flora.

  “Are you ready?” Martin asked quietly.

  She nodded, her eyes still glowing with tears.

  As they made their way down the aisle, I slipped into the pew at the back of the church next to Ernie, who tapped my hand and beamed. “Don’t they make a lovely couple?” he whispered as Flora moved to Dan’s side.

  “They sure do,” I answered him.

  As they stood at the front of the tiny chapel, Doris conducted the wedding and, with all the upheaval, stuck adamantly to Flora’s agreed service—dead poets and all. It was obvious to me she didn’t want to rock the boat and have the bride bolting before she said “I do.”

  Then Dan took his bride’s hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “Flora, I know we had beautiful words from Shakespeare that we’d rehearsed for the ceremony, but I want to speak from my heart because over the last few days, I’ve come to realize just how deeply I do love you.