by Jan Surasky
“That sounds great, Jake. I know you’ll do real well with it.”
Jake was still in his overalls stained with dirt. “I hear you’re getting married, Jenny.”
“Yes. Next summer. Bud and I will live in Syracuse.”
“Aren’t you going to finish your studies at Keuka?”
“Well, I’ll be able to take a course or two at SU. But, I’ll have to drop out from full-time studies because I’ll have to work full-time.”
“What about your art?”
“I’ll try to keep it up. But, between working and entertaining for Bud, who will be gathering future clients for his dad’s car agency, I’m not sure how much time I’ll have.”
“Well, I hope you try and think of yourself as much as you can. I remember a girl who had dreams of becoming a great artist.”
“I will, Jake. I’ll have the whole Syracuse campus to paint in my spare time.”
“I’ll be leaving for New York in a few weeks. I’ll probably be back next summer. Maybe I’ll see you then.”
“Maybe. After Bud graduates, we’ll be moving back here.”
“I’ll bet your mother is pleased.”
“She’s ecstatic. She sees herself in the society column every other week.”
“I have to go now, Jenny. Gotta help Pa gather up tools and make a plan to harvest. I wish you the best of everything.”
“Me, too, Jake. I wish you the best as well. Be careful in New York.”
As they stood, Jenny could see in the moonlight Jake had changed. Gone was the home haircut, and his stance was way more poised. But, the shy farm boy was still there beneath.
Jake took Jenny in his arms. “I will always remember our times together, Jenny. The spring nights with their gentle breezes. The song of the whippoorwill. And, the cold nights we huddled in the barn together away from the winter cold.”
“And I will remember that you and Anne and Sarah shared your family with me, an only child.
“I’ll write you, Jake.”
“I’m not much of a letter writer, Jen. But, Anne and Sarah will always know where I am.”
Jake released her and turned to head toward home. She watched until he disappeared into the shadows.
Chapter Fifteen
Jenny looked round the old farmhouse she had grown up in. This would be the last day she would spend in it as a single woman.
The day of the wedding had finally arrived though she was hoping it would be farther off. Mother was alternately clucking and crowing as she bustled about the house tidying up and checking the last minute details.
“Lyman, get your tux on. I’ll be in to tie your tie.
“Jenny, get your wedding dress together. Make sure your veil is in a separate box.
“I hope your suitcase is all packed. We need to put it in the trunk before we lay your dress in the back.
“Amanda called. She’ll be at the church early with Aunt Gert to help you dress.”
Jenny had almost forgotten Sparky’s given name, but Mother was there to remind her, and to remind her that a nod to formality wouldn’t hurt her status with the Andersons. After all, they had invited not only their relatives but business acquaintances from New York.
“Make sure you shake everyone’s hand and thank them for coming.”
Mother peeked in to Jenny’s room, already clad in her long, red satin dress, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle.
“Mother, you look beautiful.”
“Thank you, Jenny. I think Mayva outdid herself. I think she worked just as hard on this as she did on Mary Lou Anderson’s dress for the governor’s ball.
“You had better get ready, Jenny. We mustn’t be late. The Andersons are arriving at the church by noon.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Now, don’t be nervous, Jenny. Getting married isn’t all that bad. Especially to someone like Bud who can provide for you in a grander style than you’ve ever had.”
“Yes, Mother.” Jenny bit her lip. Now was no time to challenge Mother.
“Chariot’s ready. All gassed up and ready to go.” Father had pulled the old Chevy round the front.
“Let’s go. Jenny, I’ll help you with your dress. Lyman, make sure you put Jenny’s suitcase in the trunk so we can switch it to the limo when it arrives.”
“Here, Jenny. I’ll take your bag and your shoes. No sense tripping before we get there.”
“Thanks, Father.”
The trip to the church was silent save for Mother’s ever-present chatter which no one answered. Despite the rush, the Andersons’ had already arrived. The long, black Lincoln Town car sat in front of the church’s red door. Pastor Wycliff Lyndley had had it painted when he took over the parsonage not quite a year ago. Though a good deal of the congregation had thought it out of place on the whitewashed clapboard building, he had insisted.
“Hurry, Jenny. You go round the back. You mustn’t see Bud. There’s a back stairway to the changing room. Mayva will be there to see to last minute details.”
The changing room was small with only one high placed window. But, the mirror was large and the dimly lit dressing table more than adequate. Jenny surveyed the lines on her face as she set out her makeup and lingerie.
“Hey, Jen. Let’s get that look off your face. It’s just nerves.”
Sparky had arrived with Aunt Gert looking every bit the debutante she once was. Her long, deep blue velvet maid-of-honor gown was set off with a single strand of pearls, her makeup perfect, and the limp braid that usually hung down her back had been transformed into a very sophisticated updo.
“You look delicious, Sparky. I bet every male eye will be upon you.”
“Nonsense, Jen. This is your show. Now hold still so I can get this makeup started.”
As Sparky added soft, brown lines to Jenny’s pale brows, Mother appeared with Mayva. “Hello, Mattie. I see you brought the dressmaker as well as the bride. Hey, Mayva.”
“Hey, Gert. I don’t see you at the shop on Saturdays lately.”
“Busy season. How’s the hairdressing going?”
“Good, but I’d like to expand the dressmaking. No overhead. I can do it in my basement.”
“I’ll see what I can do over at the college. And, of course, if your customers can use fresh flowers, I wouldn’t mind you talking it up on the weekends.”
“Will do. And, how’s our bride coming.”
Sparky had finished the makeup and was popping the dress over Jenny’s unbrushed hair. As Mayva took over to fasten the many buttons a hush fell over the room. “And, now, the bridal coiffure. How’s this, Jenny?”
Jenny stared at the photo of a model clipped from a bridal magazine. “It’s beautiful, Mayva.”
“Sit still, Jenny, so Mayva can work.”
“She’s fine, Mattie. She’s a bride. She’s nervous.”
Armed with a curling iron and several brushes, the expert hairdresser transformed the mane of chestnut hair into several long curls, a partial upsweep, and soft, wisps of curls along her hairline. Jenny looked beautiful.
“And, now, for the final touch. I’ve made your bouquet out of my prize orchids, a few gardenias, and a cascade of baby white roses.”
“It’s beautiful, Aunt Gert.”
“I’m going to call the photographer. Jenny, get some color in your cheeks. What will the Andersons think?”
As the photographer snapped and Sparky added blush to Jenny’s pale cheeks, the Reverend Wycliff Lyndley stuck his head in.
“Everybody ready? Are you ready, Jenny?”
“Ready, Pastor.”
“Okay. I’ll help you every step of the way. Just remember our rehearsal.”
As they descended the stairs, Jenny took her place next to Father. The wedding party, except for Sparky, was already assembled in front of the flower bedecked altar. Caroline and Dotty, their pale blue organza bridesmaids gowns a perfect complement to Sparky’s deep blue velvet, stood to one side, Whit, the best man looking for all like a prom date, stood to the othe
r. Bud stood next to him.
After Sparky’s march accompanied by an usher, Bud’s cousin, the music signaled the bride. Father shook as he led her down the aisle. Jenny could see Mother scrutinizing her stance. Nevertheless, a hush fell over the congregation. Jenny was a beautiful bride.
“Dearly Beloved, We are gathered together...” The words became a blur.
“Will you, Jenny, take Leland “Bud” Anderson as your lawful wedded...”
“Will you, Leland “Bud” Anderson take...”
“Will the groom place the ring on the bride’s finger.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” At that, Bud looked at Jenny, beaming.
“You may kiss the bride.” Bud obliged, and the congregation rose to its feet, following the bridal couple with its eyes.
“Hey, Jen, why the nerves? I thought you were going to faint and I’d have to catch you.”
“Not a chance, Whit. See you at the reception.”
Bud, a fire-engine red Corvette at his disposal, got them there in record time. Whit and his friends, horns blaring, trailed the bridal couple. The Andersons pulled alongside.
“George has the reception set up in the Fairway Room.”
“Thanks, Dad, we’ll find it.”
The Penn Yan Country Club was bustling as Jenny and Bud made their way to the Fairway Ball Room. George was already signaling them to start the reception line.
Jenny shook hands with nearly two hundred guests, most of them friends of the Andersons. Sparky hugged her as she came through and Aunt Gert planted a congratulatory kiss on her already worn cheek.
After several rounds of hors d’oeuvres, from shrimp to puff pastries to cheeses from around the world, a sit down dinner was announced. Liver pate flown in from France and pheasant with hearty port wine sauce. The Andersons had outdone themselves. Jenny dutifully hopped from table to table to thank all the guests for coming.
“The band should be here soon, Jen. We get the first dance. Or, at least, after I dance with my mother and you dance with your father. I think that’s how it’s done.”
“George will tell us. He seems to be the coordinator. I hope there’s somebody to dance with Aunt Gert. Or even Miss Ransom. She did me a favor to come.”
“There’s plenty of guys out there who will do the proper thing. We have a lot of business acquaintances here.”
“How are you doing, darling?”
“Fine, Mom.”
“Your father’s looking for you. He’s got a lot of business acquaintances to introduce you to.”
“I’ll catch him, Mom. I think I see him over there at the bar.”
“Jennifer, I’d like to talk to you for a moment.”
“Yes, Mrs. Anderson.”
“First of all, I’d like to welcome you into the family. I hope you will do everything possible to keep the family name up. It is highly respected from here to New York and across the country as well. Bud’s great great grandfather was a New York State senator.”
“Yes, Mrs. Anderson.”
“Jennifer, it is no secret that I was against this match from the first. So, I hope you will do your best to take care of all Bud’s needs. His socks and his underwear need to be laundered on a regular basis and his suits need to be pressed weekly.”
“I will see to it.”
“I’ve enrolled you in an etiquette and charm school in the Syracuse area. I hope you will attend regularly.”
“I’m not sure I’ll have time. I have a full-time job and I’m signed up for two courses.”
“Then, maybe you’d better drop one. The school goes for one semester.”
“I’ll do my best, Mrs. Anderson.”
“Jenny, the first dance is ours. Mr. Bennett said the band will be here any minute.”
“Thank you, Father. I’m ready.”
“Have her back in time, Lyman. The bridal couple lead the next one.”
“Will do, Mary. Lovely reception.”
“Thank you, Lyman. I thought we could do this better than you. We have a lot of business clients to impress.”
As Jenny whirled in Father’s arms, all eyes upon them, she thought of the autumn and baling hay and helping Father and Hiram to pull in the latest cash crop.
“Jenny, I hope you’ll come home now and then. We’ll miss you.”
“Of course, Father. I know you can use an extra hand to bale the hay.”
“Your life will be with Bud, now. His needs will come first. But, if you ever need anything, you give Mother or me a call.”
“Thanks, Father. I will.”
“I think Bud will treat you right. He seems like a responsible lad. And, the Andersons have money and power. A little high and mighty, but they should do right by you.
“How’s that Martin boy doing?”
“He’s going to New York. Got a scholarship.”
“I knew he was a smart boy. Seems a shame Josiah will lose his best hand. They’re funny people, but they mind their own business and they don’t hurt a soul.”
“Anne and Sarah are staying on to help him.”
“Well, the dance is ending. You enjoy yourself on that fancy island the Andersons picked for the honeymoon.”
“I will, Father. I’ll send you a postcard.”
“Hey, Jen, you ready? It’s our dance.”
“Ready, Bud.”
As she whirled in Bud’s arms, all Jenny could think of was her trousseau. The new pants and skirts, the sweaters set for a Syracuse winter, and even a suit for more formal occasions. Especially the new, cerise bikini she planned to surprise Bud with on the exotic island of St. Martin.
“Hey, Jen, wake up. Let’s give ’em a better show.”
Bud changed his lead to add a few fancy steps to the tempo, whirling and twirling and adding a mix of samba and tango. Jenny caught up.
“Let’s get outta here. We need to catch a plane.”
“Right, Bud. I won’t be long.”
Jenny returned in a flouncy skirt and a simple white cotton blouse she had chosen for the occasion. The guests threw rose petals since rice had long ago been outlawed at the club.
As they drove away, Jenny had barely noticed the “just married” sign strung along the Corvette’s rear bumper. The noise of the old boots and cans attached to its strings followed them to the airport.
Chapter Sixteen
The honeymoon on the island of St. Martin was everything Jenny had hoped for. Long walks on the beach, kisses in the moonlight, candlelit dinners in tropical restaurants surrounded by lush tropical foliage. The native towns, the shops and the open air markets. The pure white sands surrounded by mountains looming out of the sea.
Bud had been a consummate lover, guiding Jenny at every turn. Except for his forays down to the beach where he surrounded himself with topless bathers, everything had been dreamy.
“Telephone, Jennifer.”
Miss Lindstrom, her boss and the assistant dean of the Arts College, was interrupting her reverie. “Thanks, Miss Lindstrom, I’ll take it in the back room.”
“Hi, Sparky.”
“Jen. Long time no see.”
“I know. How would you like to come to dinner next week and try out my cooking?”
“I’d love it, Jen. I’ll bring Chinese for backup.”
“No need. I’ve been studying cookbooks.”
“Okay. How about next Tuesday? That way my exams will be over and I’ll be able to show you the new Chevy convertible my parents surprised me with this semester.”
“Sounds great, Sparks. Maybe we can take in an art opening. Miss Lindstrom gave me two tickets to the latest exhibit. Maybe we can make some connections.”
“See you next Tuesday. Don’t fuss, Jen. I’m still used to the dorm way of life.”
“How’s your friend Amanda?”
“Good, Miss Lindstrom. Hitting the books. She’s a serious student.”
“That’s good. We need women like her. Graduate and break that glass ceiling in this male-dominated work wor
ld.”
“Yes, Miss Lindstrom. Do you need me to call the speakers now for inter-semester week?”
“Good, Jenny. See if you can get that English physicist what’s-his-name. He’s hot and we’d be the envy of every upstate school around.”
“I’ll try. And how about that photographer?”
“Well, I guess so. All he photographs is doors. But, I guess the architecture students would go out of their minds and the art students might get it as well.”
“I’ll get on it right now. Time’s wasting. It’s almost three o’clock.”
“Good, Jenny. Help yourself to the chocolate chip cookies. Fresh baked last night. At almost three. I had to catch up on these reports.”
“Thanks, Miss Lindstrom.” As she moved to the back desk, Jenny surveyed her boss. Great legs. Prim and proper clothing. Dark thick hair perennially pulled back in a bun and clipped with an old diamond pin. In love with Mr. Perkins, the head librarian. As far as everyone knew, he didn’t know she existed.
As the library clock struck five, Jenny grabbed her jacket, ready to make the run to the far parking lot relegated to students. Bud would be there with their old, leased Corvette.
“See you in the morning, Miss Lindstrom. I’ve got calls in to four of the speakers. Maybe we can nail them tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Jenny. Have a good evening.”
“Will do.”
As Jenny strolled the campus, she felt surrounded by carefree coeds, minds on books and boys, the latest hot spot in college town, and Saturday night frat parties. She felt protected, almost distant, and in some frightening way, a little bit envious. Bud was there on time.
“Hey, Babe.”
“Hi, Bud.”
“How was work?”
“Good. Same old stuff. Phone calls, paper work, inter-semester week planning. How did practice go?”
“Good. The guys are getting better all the time.
“Say, Jen. Could you drive yourself home? I’ve got exams tomorrow. Got to hit the frat files. Jason says he’ll drop me off on his way to his own apartment.”
“Sure, Bud. I’ll keep dinner warm.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll grab something at the house. Don’t wear out the old television.”