“Where have you been living?” I said, once again curious and realizing that I still didn’t know where he had been laying his head at night.
“That’s information for me only,” he said seriously.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said forgivingly. “What’s important is for you to play your part today. This celebration is going to boost everyone’s spirits. I can’t have you doing this halfway.”
“This wasn’t my idea,” I pointed out.
“That’s all the more reason for you to stick with it.”
“Grace is pretty mad at me, Leonard.”
“Say something sweet to her. Women like that.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“I know.” Leonard scratched his stubble-covered chin.
“I’m not even sure she’ll talk to me.”
“Let me take care of it then,” he volunteered. “I’ve done a lot of talking in my lifetime. I’m sure I could find a few words to throw at her.”
I shouldn’t even have entertained the thought, but it had some appeal. Leonard could test the waters and find out just how mad she was. It was crazy, but like a coward I agreed to let him do it.
“Will you tell her I’m sorry?” I asked.
“If it comes up.”
“Leonard, that’s the whole reason you need to talk to her.”
“I know, I know.” He waved me away. “I just don’t want to go in there sounding all rehearsed and stilted. Women can spot insincerity easier than a sale blouse in the right color.”
I was sincerely worried.
“Don’t get all jumpy. I’ll meet you down by the boardinghouse in a few minutes,” he said, patting me on the shoulder and heading out towards the Heck home. “I’ll patch things up tighter than a youth belt on an adult boar.”
“The boardinghouse is gone,” I reminded him.
“Then I’ll meet you at the catapult.”
We parted ways. I crossed through the woods and out into the meadow near Wad’s shack. Sister Watson had incorporated his shack into part of the reception decorations. I think she had been hoping to make the old outhouse shell look like some sort of gazebo. Thanks to the decorations, I could tell that our colors were peach and mint. Wad was instructing Digby as he gave Frank Porter a facial.
“Morning, Wad, Digby, Frank.”
“Morning, Trust,” they all threw back.
I walked over to the crepe paper-covered catapult and sat down on the base of the thing. I noted how much closer the Girth seemed to be. It was as if the river were growing daily. I saw Roswell leading his ice cream wagon around the meadow looking for prereception sales. I heard him try to bully Lupert Carver into buying something. When Lupert refused, Roswell took out a cone and started licking it in front of him, acting as if it were the greatest thing he had ever eaten. Sister Watson had been adamant about not letting Roswell peddle his treats while the reception was going on, but Roswell had ignored her. He saw this whole thing as an excellent opportunity to make some big sales.
Sister Watson came out of the woods and over to me. She looked as if she had something besides her wig on her mind.
“Trust, have you seen Hope?” she asked.
“No,” I answered quickly.
“I need the truth here,” she insisted.
“I haven’t seen her.”
“She didn’t come home last night,” Sister Watson said with concern. “I don’t want to mother her to death, but I can’t just turn a blind eye to what she’s doing.”
“What’s she doing?”
“How should I know?” she snapped. “She didn’t come home last night.”
“I’d love to help,” I lied. “But I haven’t seen her since late last evening.”
“How late?”
“I don’t know. Eleven, twelve,” I guessed.
“And just where did you see her at such a late hour?”
“The school.”
“What were you doing there?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” I insisted. “She was upset and crying about her father dying.”
“Mighty sensitive girl,” Sister Watson said. “Seems unhealthy, though, to be crying about something that happened seven years ago.”
“Seven years ago?” I asked. “He died yesterday.”
“Trust, you’re making it hard for me to believe a word you’re saying. Hope’s father died seven years ago in a freak train and plane wreck. He was hauling myrrh to poor children across the Bering Strait.”
“Mir?” I questioned.
“As in Frankenstein.”
I think she meant frankincense, but I didn’t pursue that line of questioning any further. “That’s impossible. Hope’s father died just yesterday.”
“Well, I guess we’ve got one more reason to find her.”
“I have no reason to find her,” I said. “Besides, she probably left town since her father passed away and there’s no longer a need for her to paint for him.”
“Paint what?” Sister Watson asked in confusion. “She was here to study flight patterns of the Flute Goose.”
“I think we’re talking about two different people.”
“I’m not,” she insisted. “I’m talking about Hope, and this conversation is not helping me find her.” Sister Watson looked at her wrist as if there were a watch there. “I really need to get moving. Guests will be arriving in a few hours. You’d better clean yourself up,” she instructed me.
Sister Watson turned and walked away, dragging a piece of peach-colored crepe paper on the bottom of her shoe. She stopped after a few steps and tried to shake it off. I had never seen an older woman convulse so. Just before her left leg detached from its socket, the paper fell off, and she continued on her way. When I turned to look in a different direction, there was Leonard.
“It’s all taken care of,” he said proudly. “Grace would be honored to be your fake wife for the afternoon.”
“She would?”
“She told me to tell you that she thinks it’s okay.”
“Is she mad?”
“Let’s just say she doesn’t smile easy at the moment.”
“You told her about my being innocent and sorry?”
“Oh, I went on and on about how sorry you are,” he waved.
“So she’s okay with it all?”
“She’ll be here,” Leonard said. “Speaking of food, I wonder how Teddy’s coming with the party favors.”
Before I could ask him what the heck he was talking about, he was gone. I went over to Sister Watson’s place and used her shower. I then got dressed up in the old tux that Toby had worn once on his wedding day and was now letting me borrow. It didn’t fit at all but was in fairly good shape. Toby had kept it pressed between his mattresses for the last twenty years. He had thought that like a corsage stuck in the pages of a thick book, a tux too needed to be preserved. The sleeves and legs were too short and the tails were longer than I would have preferred, but it would do for a faux reception.
By the time I was all ready, the locals were beginning to filter into the meadow in anticipation of the reception. Most everyone began to lay claim to tables, wanting to make sure they had a seat before all the out-of-towners arrived. I saw Ed pacing around the sign-in table. He had been unhappy ever since he had been given the responsibility of manning the guest book. It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t handle the obvious aspects of the assignment as it was that he was also in charge of giving out the door prizes, and clearly there was no actual door. He got into a heated argument with Leonard over how he felt that they should rename them Meadow Mementos instead of door prizes.
Tindy MacDermont was sitting near the tables with a huge harp in front of her. She had found it at a swap meet a couple of weeks ago. She didn’t know how to play it, so she just sat there strumming it back and forth. Pete was right next to her playing his trombone, and Jeff Titter had a Jew’s harp in his big mouth. They were creating really interesting music together. Pete
and Jeff were playing two entirely different songs, and Tindy kept yelling at them because they were messing up her strumming.
Teddy Yetch was fussing around with all the food, laying out tiny sandwiches in spirals and layers. I sidled up to her and complimented her on the effort.
“I read in Woman’s World that ham is best rolled and turkey is better chunked,” she explained.
I spotted President Heck off in the distance talking to himself. I was certain he was going over what he would say to everyone and working on his toast. Seeing him made me realize just how nervous I actually was. I wasn’t worried about the reception itself. I was more concerned with the reception Grace would give me. We still had not talked since the incident last night. I knew that Leonard had attempted to explain my side, but I could only imagine what he had actually said.
I walked around trying to look calm and waiting for Grace to appear. About half an hour before three, she emerged from the forest and joined our gathering. Let me just say, she had never looked better. The wedding dress that her mother had whipped up was more flattering than a room full of gung-ho underlings. Most of her red hair was pulled up on top of her head, but a good number of strands hung down loose. I would like to say that she waltzed beautifully into the meadow and took her place by my side. But she was by no means waltzing. It was obvious that she still wasn’t happy with me. She walked right past me without saying a word, stopping on her mark where the line was supposed to be. I sheepishly stepped up next to her.
“Don’t talk to me,” she said before I could get a word in.
“Grace.”
“I’m serious, Trust. I’m only doing this for Sister Watson and her dumb road. I wouldn’t even be doing it for that if my mother hadn’t spent all morning lecturing me on how important it is.”
“Did you tell your parents about last night?”
“No,” she glared at me.
“You have to let me explain,” I pleaded.
“I’m sure you have a perfectly good explanation for being with Hope in a dark deserted building in the middle of the night.”
“It’s not a great explanation,” I tried. “But I have one.”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
Grace turned to look at Sister Watson, who had stepped up to her and was pulling a small thread off her dress.
“Now, folks will be arriving any moment,” she said. “So everyone should get in line, and you two need to start pretending like you’re married.”
Grace scowled.
Sister Watson drew back. “Now, Grace, you look like Edna Wilchester after forty years with Wyman. That won’t do. We’re going for the newlywed married look,” she instructed her.
“This will have to do,” Grace said firmly.
“Do you think people will show up?” I asked Sister Watson nicely.
“I hope so,” she answered. “By now Leo and CleeDee should have checked the announcements of a number of people. They promised to send Lupert on ahead to notify us. Places,” she hollered. “And remember—Grace and Trust are married.”
I tried to scoot closer to Grace, but she just moved away.
“Grace,” I begged out of the side of my mouth. “Nothing happened between Hope and me.”
“That’s too bad,” she said, smiling a fake smile for the part, “because that was probably all the affection you’re going to get for quite some time.”
“We’re supposed to be married,” I pointed out.
“We’ll be divorced by sundown.”
Lupert Carver came tearing across the meadow and up to Sister Watson. He caught his breath and said, “They’re coming.”
“Look sharp,” Sister Watson hollered.
That was a tall order for this town.
I glanced up towards the trail and saw the initial trickle of wedding guests. A bald man with a hairy woman walked up to the table, signed in, and then asked Ed where their door prize was. Ed handed them a plastic back scratcher, and they came over and went through the line. They shook everyone’s hands as if they actually knew us.
Our line consisted of Grace and me, Patty Heck, Ricky Heck, and Narlette in white overall shorts. Digby was there with highlighted hair, and Leonard stood positioned in tight sky-blue slacks and a fake tux T-shirt. Sybil Porter was chosen to be a member of our line simply because Sister Watson felt the girl needed every opportunity she could find to wear a dress.
The bald man shook my hand and then winked at me as if he knew something I didn’t know. By the time he had made it through the line, others were already on the scene.
Sister Watson squeezed up between Grace and me and whispered, “Remember—one of these people could be the state guy here to see about our road.”
People kept coming. Everyone would go through the line and then sit around munching on food.
“This isn’t too bad,” I whispered to Grace.
“I think it’s awful.”
“I said I’m sorry,” I pleaded.
“That’s not good enough.” She smiled as an older lady with long ears came through the line.
“You know I would never cheat on you,” I tried to explain.
“I do?” she asked sarcastically. “What was that last night?”
“Her father died.”
“That’s not all that’s dead.”
“You have to believe me.”
“I believed you last time.”
“See,” I tried to joke. “So it should be easy.”
“It’s not funny, Trust.”
A stout man breathing loudly came through the line and shook Grace’s hand with more feeling than I felt was appropriate.
“She’s a pretty one,” he told me. “I’d hold on tight, or someone might steal her away.” He then made a creepy motion.
I thought maybe Grace would be so bothered by him that she might cling to me. Instead she said, “I’m already looking for something better.”
The man smiled as if he might be that something better. Grace turned to shake the hand of the next person. I was in trouble. If Grace was mad enough to be flirting with a heavy-breathing stranger, then I had real problems. I was trying to think up something healing to say when suddenly Doran Jorgensen and Lucy Fall were standing right in front of me. The last time I had seen either of them had been in Southdale. Doran was an ex-companion that had made Grace’s and my relationship fairly interesting a while back. I couldn’t believe he was here now with Lucy.
“Doran?” I asked in amazement.
He answered by hugging me tightly. Then he gave Grace a squeeze. Lucy did the same.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked.
“We got your announcement,” Doran said happily. “Flew out here as fast as we could. I can’t believe you two went off and got married early. I understand, though. There’s wisdom in short engagements.” Doran winked at Lucy.
Grace and I would have explained ourselves, but there were people listening in line.
“Yeah,” was all I said.
“Well, we got our own good news,” Doran said, bursting. “Show him, Lucy.”
Lucy lifted her hand to display a huge diamond ring.
“We were so jealous of you two that we eloped to the temple. We got hitched yesterday. We’re on our honeymoon too.”
I felt like covering my eyes just in case he exploded.
“You’re kidding,” I said in amazement.
Lucy blushed for both of them.
I looked closely at her as she smiled up at her husband. She was certainly not the girl I had dated all those years ago. She was just as beautiful, but the Lucy I knew would never have even entertained the idea of honeymooning here. She would have insisted on a month-long vacation to Greece or a three-week Caribbean cruise and shopping spree. But then again, the Lucy I knew was long gone, replaced by a confident, kind individual that wanted to do what was right. She and Doran had been dating for a while, and even though it wasn’t ever mentioned outright, we all figured that they would end up together. I
guess we had figured right.
“So how long are you two going to stay here?” I asked.
“We weren’t sure we could stay long at all,” Doran explained. “This ring set us back a bit, and the plane tickets here weren’t cheap. But luckily we ran into Leo and CleeDee living in Leonard’s mobile home at the start of the trail. Nice to know Leonard’s here,” Doran added.
“Real comforting,” I agreed, looking over at Leonard as he shook people’s hands and slipped them pamphlets explaining some of the products he sold.
“Anyhow,” Doran went on, “Leo said we could stay at his place on Lush Point for as long as we needed. He said he hadn’t had a chance to clean up his place before he left and that a couple of his dogs were feeling ill, but the place is ours if we want it. I tell you, Trust and Grace, the heavens are blessing this union already.”
A relatively sweet-looking lady started pushing Doran because he and Lucy were holding up the line.
“We’ll talk more later,” I said as he was shoved away.
“Actually,” Doran said, “we were going to run off to Leo’s place and, uh, get . . . situated.”
Doran kissed Lucy, Lucy kissed Doran, and they both left.
“Can you believe they’re here?” I asked Grace after shaking the woman’s hand. Grace didn’t answer.
“You can’t be mad at me forever,” I pointed out.
“I only have to be mad at you until you’re gone.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Again, Grace was silent.
A pear-shaped woman with an orange-shaped mouth shook our hands and then looked us over.
“You look a little nervous, dear,” she said to Grace. “I understand. Why, I was scared to death on my wedding night—”
Mercifully, Sister Watson stood up on one of the lawn chairs and cupped her hands to holler at the crowd.
“If I could have your attention,” she yelled. “We’d like to take a break with the line for a little musical entertainment. Some of you may not know that Thelma’s Way has its own singing sensation.”
I was among the unknowing.
“They’re here to tickle our ears and celebrate the union of this happy couple,” Sister Watson pointed at Grace and me.
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