by Janette Oke
A tear slid unchecked down Mary's cheek. I reached out a finger and brushed it away.
"I don't even have the ring;' I confessed.
"You'll get it soon enough;" Mary defended me.
"I-I haven't even spoken to your pa."
"He'll give his blessing"
Then I took a deep breath. "That's not all;' I admitted slowly as Mary waited. "I-I don't want to wait;' I burst out. "Not till after harvest. Not a month. Not even a week if-"
Mary's eyes flew wide open.
"I know it's not fair. That it's terribly selfish. But you won't come home until we are married and I guess I couldn't bear it even if you did-but honestly, Mary, I don't want to wait any longer to get married. I know-I know it's not reasonable, that a girl needs lots of time to make her dress and sew her pillowcases and-and do whatever else it is that girls do, but-"
"Sunday?" said Mary.
"We really don't need a big fancy cake an' all the trimmings, and we've got pillowcases, an' you could wear that pretty blue-"
"Sunday?" said Mary again.
I frowned, not understanding.
"I think I could be ready by Sunday if you can," Mary said calmly.
"Sunday? Which Sunday?"
"Next Sunday."
"Next Sunday?"
"This is Tuesday," said Mary, laughter in her voice. "That leaves us Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Then comes Sunday. I can be ready by Sunday."
"By Sunday? Next Sunday?" I stammered.
"Are you trying to back out?" she teased.
"Of course not. I-I just supposed that you'd need-"
"You told me already that you planned to propose-remember? Well, there is no cake or dress ready-yet. But Lou said she would bake the cake, and I did find a piece of lovely material and I'm really quick with a sewing machine. Both Faye and Lilli will help. They promised. And as for the pillowcases, josh-that is the one thing that is ready."
Neither of us had paid any attention to the cups of coffee that now sat cool and unwanted before us. I pushed my cup farther away so I wouldn't tip it over when I put my arms around Mary.
"Sunday," I grinned. "Sure. Sunday." Then my mind began to whirl. I had a few things that needed doing before Sunday, as well. How in the world would I get it all done in time? First thing in the morning I'd need to head out for that ring. Two rings, in fact. Then I'd-Id-well, I'd talk to Uncle Nat and Aunt Lou, that's what I'd do. They'd have a whole list of things I needed to attend to. I had no idea.
Mary stirred. "Pa?" she said.
"You said he'd sleep through a hurricane," I reminded her.
"And so he would;' Mary smiled, ruffling my still-wet hair, "but not through the marriage of one of his daughters. You'd best try to get a comb through that hair while I go wake him;' and she kissed me on the nose and went off.
My head started working again. "Barney," I muttered. "I didn't care for Barney" I looked about the kitchen for a slicker, not wishing to get a soaking again. Mitch might not have left anything else behind.
I spotted a slicker belonging to Mr. Turley and took the liberty of borrowing it just long enough to lead the horse in out of the rain and toss a bit of hay in the manger.
When I returned to the kitchen I managed to comb my hair and smooth some of the wrinkles out of Mitch's worn shirt. There was nothing I could do about the short legs on my pants. Mitch wasn't quite as tall as I was.
Mary and Mr. Turley arrived in the kitchen together a few minutes later. He still looked sleepy and confused, but Mary was radiant. She had changed her dress to the pretty blue one I had referred to earlier. Her hair was carefully pinned up, too. She gave me an encouraging smile, and I took a deep breath and began my little speech.
"Sir, I realize that this is an untimely hour, and I apologize for that-but I would-would like to ask for your daughter Mary's hand in marriage, sir. I-I love Mary deeply and she has-has honored me by returning the love, sir, and-"
I guess Mr. Turley had heard enough or maybe he was just anxious to get back to bed. He reached out and shook my hand vigorously. "I'd be proud, Son," he said huskily. "I'd be proud:" Then in a slightly choked voice, he added, "It woulda made her mama very happy."
Mary slipped an arm about me and gave me a squeeze and then she ran off to waken Lilli and tell her the good news.
No one went back to bed that night, not even Mr. Turley. We stayed up until the sky began to lighten. The sun never did come out because of the clouds, but I didn't mind them anymore. We talked the night away, making our plans for the coming wedding. Then with the daybreak I kissed Mary goodbye, borrowed Mr. Turley's slicker again and mounted Barney for the trip back home.
I got home before Grandpa or Uncle Charlie had left their beds. Pixie was waiting for me, though, sniffing at the door, a confused look in her eyes.
I picked her up and held her close. "Pixie;' I told her, "I'm getting married. Not `sometime, but Sunday. This Sunday." Then I threw all caution to the wind and bellowed for the whole house to hear. "I'm getting married! Sunday! This next Sunday. You hear! I'm getting married!"
CHAPTER 14
Sunday's Comin'!
I sure was relieved when it stopped raining. I had lots of plans to make and traveling to do, and it would have been most miserable trying to do it all in the pouring rain.
As it was, the roads were rutted and muddy, so it was out of the question to use the motor car. Mostly I rode Chester, and the horse heard many declarations of love that week. Even if they weren't meant for him.
I don't know what I would ever have done without help from Uncle Nat and Aunt Lou. Even Grandpa and Uncle Charlie lent a hand-mostly doing up my chores while I ran about. They were 'most as excited as I was.
I asked Avery to be my best man. A lump came into my throat as I made my choice. I knew Willie would have been standing at my side had things turned out differently.
Mitch would have been my second choice-mostly for Mary's sake, but Mitch sent back word that he wouldn't be able to make it by Sunday, and he gave Mary and me his best wishes. So I went to call on Avery and he grinned from ear to ear as he accepted my invitation.
Mary picked Lilli to be her maid of honor, and she was pretty excited about it too.
True to her word, Aunt Lou made the cake. She also organized some of the church ladies who offered to serve a meal following the ceremony. Everyone seemed anxious to help out, and I knew that some of the reason was because Mary had lost her mama.
Even Sarah got involved. "Mama says I can serve the punch, Uncle Josh;' she informed me and I gave her a hug and told her I knew she'd do a great job.
On Thursday I made the long trip to get the rings since our little town did not have what I considered suitable for Mary. How I wished for better roads and the automobile, but Chester did the best he could. We were both tired when we got home that night; even so I cleaned up and headed for Mary's house. I figured Chester had used his legs enough for one day, so I walked. It wasn't that far to Mary's if you cut across the pasture.
She looked a bit surprised when she opened the door to my knock.
"Expectin' someone else?" I bantered.
"No, Josh," she laughed, drawing me in. "But I wasn't expectin you either. I thought you'd be far too busy to come callin
"I was:' l teased. "I am-but I thought you might like to have this before Sunday." I held out the little box that held her ring.
Mary gave a little gasp and reached out her hand. I pulled the box back. "Not so fast;' I told her. "You haven't yet told me what a wonderful guy you'll be marryin' come Sunday."
Mary glanced back at the table behind her. I could see bits and pieces of soft white material scattered over it.
"If you don't stop pesterin me and be on your way, there won't be a wedding;' she warned me. "No dress-no wedding."
I turned to look more closely at the table, but Mary put a hand over my eyes.
"No peeking," she commanded. "It's not fair to see the dress before the ceremony.
&nbs
p; "Then come out to the veranda;' I suggested.
"For only a short time;' Mary insisted, pretending she wasn't interested in the little box, as she allowed herself to be led to the veranda bench.
I seated Mary, then dropped to one knee in front of her. I reached for her hand and spoke softly, "Mary Turley, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife-Sunday next?" I added with a hint of a smile.
Mary reached out to ruffle my hair, then changed her mind and let her hand fall to my cheek. "That would make me the happiest girl in the world;' she said, her gentle smile saying even more than her words.
I caught her hand and kissed the palm-then opened the small box and removed the ring. Carefully I slipped it on Mary's slender finger. "Oh, josh," she murmured, lifting the ring to study it and then brushing it against her lips, "it's beautiful."
She leaned forward to kiss me as I knelt before her.
"Now go finish that dress;' I prompted. "I don't want any excuses come Sunday."
But we lingered for a while, just talking about our plans and comparing progress. It was dark before I headed back across the fields for home. I whistled as I walked in the light from the moon. I had never been happier. I had just placed my ring on Mary's finger, and Sunday promised to be the greatest day of my life.
We were to be married immediately following the Sunday morning service. Everything, as far as I knew, was in readiness. I would wear my wedding suit to church. Mary and Lilli would slip out and change at Lou's just as soon as the service ended. Lou had things well in hand for our reception dinner with the help of the parishioners. Mary's silver service had been polished to perfection and stood ready and waiting to serve the guests. I knew the silver pieces were far more than a teapot and coffeepot to Mary. They were a small symbol of her mother at our special occasion. I also knew that Mary would miss her mama even more intensely on her wedding day.
On Sunday I was up long before daylight, polishing and licking and patting for almost an hour. Something unheard of for me. Grandpa and Uncle Charlie didn't even tease me. They themselves were far too busy licking and polishing.
At last we were ready to go. We had decided the road was dry enough to take the motor car. I'd attempted to polish it up the day before, though it still bore the dents and scars of the accident.
We climbed in, I started up the Ford, and we headed down our long farm lane. I wouldn't be doing any speeding, even though I could hardly wait to get to town. Here and there along the road, mud holes waited for the unwary. And we sure didn't want mud stains on our carefully groomed Sunday suits and shoes.
We were there lots early, and I paced back and forth as I waited for Mary and her family to arrive.
Matilda came, though her leg was still in a walking cast. "I wouldn't have missed this day for the world!" she exclaimed and gave me one of her hurried, impulsive hugs. "I'm so happy for you, Josh;' she bubbled. "Happy for both of you:"
She welcomed Grandpa and Uncle Charlie with hugs as well. "Oh, I miss you;' she cried. "All of you. The summer has seemed so long." There were tears in Matilda's eyes. "But I have good news;' she hurried on. "I got the school I applied for near home"
"Ya mean yer not comin' back-?" began Grandpa.
"Oh, I couldn't;" Matilda said softly. "I-I mean-I'm happy for josh and Mary, but it wouldn't be the same now. I-mean-it wouldn't be fair to newlyweds to have someone-"
Grandpa nodded but I could see sadness in his eyes.
I had to admit that I hadn't even thought of Matilda's dilemma. But she was right. It would be better for Mary and me to get a good start on our own without an extra person around. It was going to be enough for us to share the house with Grandpa and Uncle Charlie. I would talk with Mary later about the new teacher, but as far as I was concerned it was just about time that one of the other neighbors took on boarding duty.
"But they've found a new teacher to replace me," Matilda's voice interrupted my thoughts, "and I've found a new school-so everything has turned out just fine"
At that point another interruption, and a welcome one-the Turleys arrived. Mary gave a squeal at the sight of Matilda and ran to meet her, her arms outstretched. They hugged and cried and hugged some more. I didn't mind. After all, Mary and I could look forward to a whole life together, beginning today. I just stood back and watched the goings-on.
Then I realized that I should be welcoming Mr. Turley. I had never seen him at church before, except of course for his wife's funeral. I shook his hand and smiled, not knowing exactly what to say. He gave a lopsided grin in return, looking a trifle uneasy. By then the girls had settled down, and Mary came over to me and slipped a warm little hand into mine. I whispered "Good morning, sweetheart;' into her ear and made her blush prettily. It was time for the service, so we all moved inside the church doors and found places to sit.
The service seemed unusually long. It was probably a very good sermonUncle Nat's always were. But for some reason I had a hard time concentrating on it. When I took a peek at the pocket watch I had gotten from Uncle Nat and Aunt Lou, I was astounded to discover it was even earlier than usual when the service was dismissed! Then I again felt Mary slip her hand in mine for just a moment, and I squeezed it gently in return. It was our little message to each other that it wouldn't be long until we'd be standing before the minister pledging our vows of love and commitment-and also that we were anxious for that moment.
Mary slipped away to Aunt Lou's as soon as she could, and I paced about checking to see that everything was in readiness. There certainly was no need-a lovely bouquet from Aunt Lou's garden graced the altar, and candles had been lit on either side. I straightened my tie-again-and smoothed back a wayward lock of hair.
At last Sally Grayson took her place at the organ and Uncle Nat stepped to the front of the church. That was my cue to join him. I gave Avery a bit of elbow and wiped my hands again on a handkerchief Aunt Lou had provided. I moved awkwardly forward down the aisle that looked as long as our farm lane. Boy, was I nervous. I tried to swallow but there was nothing there. Eventually Uncle Nat's reassuring smile came into focus, and I turned beside him along with Avery, cleared my throat and waited, trying hard to avoid all those eyes looking right at me.
Lilli came down the aisle next. She looked just fine. I'm guessing Avery noticed, too, for even in my mental fog I thought he was watching her progress rather carefully.
And then there was Mary, poised at the door on the arm of her father, ready to take those few steps that would bring her down that aisle to me.
Her dress was simple but very appealing, and suited Mary perfectly. Her veil fell forward over her face, partly concealing her smile and her bright colored hair. But I could see her shining eyes, and they told me all I wanted to know.
"Dearly Beloved.. "Uncle Nat's firm voice was an anchor for my whirling emotions. The ceremony was a short one-but I meant every word of the promises I made to Mary before God and many witnesses. From her expression and the directness of her answers, I knew she meant the promises to me as well.
"For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health..." The words rang in my ears long after they were spoken.
But the words that really caught my attention were "to love and to cherish-till death us do part"
I had heard much about love. And I felt I understood it. I had no doubt in my mind about my love for Mary. But did I know what it meant to cherish her? Not much had been said in my presence about cherishing. I determined to do some looking into the meaning of that word at my first opportunity.
When the vows had been spoken, Uncle Nat indicated that I was to slip the wedding band on Mary's finger. And almost before I knew it he was pronouncing us man and wife. I lifted Mary's veil then to give her the expected kiss and could see fully the shine in her eyes and the flush to her cheeks. She was beautiful, my bride!
Uncle Nat presented us to the congregation. "Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Jones!" What a ring those words had! Mary and I looked at each other, and I felt an astonishment and excitement I'd neve
r experienced before. I wished I could stop and kiss her again, but we had to go outside so folks could hug us and kiss us and give us their congratulations and throw rice and take pictures and all those usual things. I went through the whole thing in a daze. What a shame, too, because I wanted to always be able to look back with clear memories on this incredibly important day in my life.
We were finally ushered back into the church basement for the dinner. Guess folks were fairly hungry by then. For some reason I still hadn't felt hunger pangs. I went through all of the motions of eating, though, so Avery wouldn't rib me about being "lovesick"
Our friends gave little speeches and the Squire twins sang "Bless This House" and Matilda sang a lovely song based on a scripture text from the story of Ruth. Little Sarah played a piano piece. Lou said she'd worked hard on it all week. There were a few jokes here and there, and I guess they were funny-I mean, folks all laughed. All in all, the afternoon passed in fine style. Then we had gifts to open. In spite of the short wedding notice, the congregation did themselves proud. We got some real lovely things. Mary was thrilled over the linens, quilts, tea towels and such for our home, and that made me happy also.
At last people began to drift off to their homes, and finally it was just the family members who were left. I took off my suit coat and began to pack the gifts away in the car and help with the cleanup. Mary, still excited and happy, was also looking a bit tired.
We finally got everything cleared away or stacked in a corner. Then we slipped over to Aunt Lou's for a cup of hot tea and some slices of pumpkin bread. Mary took the opportunity to change from her wedding gown back into her Sunday dress, still looking like the pretty bride she was.
Mr. Turley excused himself as soon as Lilli and he had finished the light lunch. As he kissed Mary goodbye, he held her close. I saw tears in his eyes as he turned to go, and I wondered what it would be like to raise a daughter you loved so much only to give her over into the keeping of another manparticularly when her father had so recently lost his wife. I felt a pang of sympathy for Pa Turley. I followed him out to his team.