‘As promised,’ he said, realizing he had no handkerchief.
Lace handed over a small linen square that had belonged to Miss Sadie, and she and Dooley had a good laugh. He took it and wiped his eyes and there came his own laughter—more laughter than he’d had in a good while—and then everybody was laughing; it had gone viral.
Mink timed how long it took people to finish laughing. It was lasting a long dern time, maybe because they had a lot of stress to let out after lookin’ a bull in the eye. Or maybe it was something like he’d read about—people laughing in church because of the Holy Spirit gettin’ loose. Oh, Lord, when would these people ring th’ dinner bell and get on with it?
‘In the name of God, I, Dooley, take you, Lace, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, come rain or come shine. This is my solemn vow.’
‘In the name of God, I, Lace, take you, Dooley, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, come rain or come shine. This is my solemn vow.’
‘In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, I pronounce you husband and wife.’
Beth led Jack Tyler forward with the pillow. He was really tired of holding this stupid pillow and would do anything to quit. It was like a shade started coming down over his head, over his eyes, he could not wait to either lie down in the grass or eat a Snickers bar, which he’d seen come out of a grocery bag in the kitchen.
The dad’s brother named Kenny took one of the rings and gave it to Granpa Tim, who gave it to the dad.
‘Bless, O Lord, these rings to be signs of the vows by which this man and this woman have bound themselves to each other, through Jesus Christ our Lord.’
If his leg started jiggling . . . ‘Lace, I give you this ring as a symbol of my vow and with all that I am, and all that I have, I honor you . . . in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.’
She felt it slipping onto her finger, felt the steadiness of Dooley’s hand as he placed it there. A simple gold band, just what she wanted; it was a kind of nourishment.
Jack Tyler watched Uncle Sammy take the other ring off the pillow and hand it to Granpa Tim, who handed it to the mom.
‘Dooley, I give you this ring as a symbol of my vow, and with all that I am, and all that I have . . .’ She caught her breath. ‘I honor you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.’
He felt the warmth of her touch as she slipped it on his finger. He was plastic in a microwave.
Beth took the pillow from Jack Tyler, who stretched out his arms for Roo. Nobody else had ever touched Roo except his granny, who sometimes would hide Roo for days. He smelled Roo to see if he smelled different.
Then Uncle Pooh reached in his pocket and pulled something out and gave it to the granpa and the granpa gave it to the mom. He laid Roo in the grass and held hands with the mom and the dad and they stood in front of the granpa.
He’d said it over and over in his mind, and the mom and the dad said they would squeeze his hand at the right time to say it out loud. ‘Say it in your very biggest voice,’ the mom had told him.
‘Dooley, Lace, and Jack Tyler . . . we honor you today as a family.’
‘Amen!’ said the people.
‘Forever.’
‘Amen!’
‘For better or for worse. To love and to cherish.’
‘Amen!’
The hand squeeze. ‘Come rain or come shine!’ yelled Jack Tyler, and all the people laughed and clapped.
The mom leaned down and took his left hand and put a ring on his finger and looked in his eyes really close. ‘We’re a family now, Jack Tyler.’ She kissed him on one side of his face. ‘This is forever.’
His dad squatted down and kissed him on the other side of his face and looked in his eyes and said, ‘We’re a family now, Jack Tyler. We’ll be a family forever.’
‘Those whom God has joined together let no one put asunder!’ said the granpa in a really loud voice.
He grabbed Roo, his dad picked him up and the people clapped and clapped and somebody whistled and the bass fiddle went whoom, whoom, whoom, and not knowing exactly what else to do, he held Roo up high so everybody could see his best friend.
Second row back on the groom’s side, Henry removed his handkerchief and pressed it to his eyes. He wished his mother could see this, but he would tell her everything, everything. Since coming up from Charlotte this morning, he was surprised to realize that he no longer thought about Eva every day. In one way or another, she had occupied his thoughts for nearly forty years. A bird sang—Eva. A stylish woman boarded the train—Eva. Hearing a church choir—Eva, whose voice was honey distilled from clover.
The dark-skinned girl in the black hat with the red rose had swept him off his feet in the truest sense; he remembered the strange weakness in his ankles as she boarded his train the first time, as if the bones had become the brittle bones of a bird.
Eva was dying of a rare type of brain cancer and he should have insisted, or somehow wrangled a marriage license without her consent, for he wanted with all his being to be legally bound to the crucifying pain and to her death for as long as it took. But her mother had passed and Eva had disappeared. The cruelest hurt he had ever known or would know. Just gone. A lifetime of loving had been compressed into eleven months that he would remember for the rest of his days.
He looked with tenderness at the young couple who had overcome so much of their own loss and sorrow and in the bloom of their youth were given this fine little boy, a gift from God.
Indeed, it was God who had urged him to make this trip into the eastern highlands, tracing his bloodline to his brother. And he was satisfied. Seeing the young family finding their way together was a benediction—something in him felt healed and healing.
Tommy grinned. He’d never heard so many amens, and he’d been raised Baptist. A lot of stuff had made his hair stand up today—Choo-Choo breathing down their necks, for one. But he was no hero, he’d been scared out of his mind to walk the guys toward the cattle and then lead a bull and three heifers all the way to the gate. Bulls could be plenty mean, even kill people, and a heifer could get her back up, too. How did he know the music would work? He’d seen something on YouTube where a few French dudes got together and played music and the cows loved it. But it was totally rolling the dice, what they’d done today, and with way too much at stake. After they got the cattle back in the field, his legs had turned to mush.
And Beth—she made his hair stand up, for sure. Run a wet finger around a fragile glass with water in it and out comes the shining, haunting sound in her voice, something pure as spring water on his granddaddy’s place, or maybe sheer as silk but strong as a tow sack. He put his hand on the neck of his old archtop and felt the reassurance of it. He’d brought his favorite axe for this and would flat-pick for the recessional and the dancing.
She stood so close he could touch her. He smiled along her back and the curve of her shoulders, and wondered if that was her perfume or was it the roses. He probably wouldn’t tell her that her voice reminded him of a tow sack. So what would he tell her before she left tonight? That was the question.
‘Wake up!’ Honey said to her husband. ‘It’s th’ Prayers of th’ People.’
‘Eternal God!’
Doc Owen’s baritone boomed out a prayer. ‘Amen!’ said the people.
Jack Tyler laid his head on the dad’s shoulder and slept. Roo fell into the grass.
The program quivered lightly in Pauline Leeper’s hands. She would not weep as she was wont to do in anything associated with her children. She could at least do that for them.
‘Give us grace when we hurt each other . . . to recognize and ac
knowledge our fault, and to seek each other’s forgiveness and yours.’
‘Amen!’
She realized she had said the prayer incorrectly. It read, Give them grace when they hurt each other . . . and acknowledge their fault. She had deeply humiliated herself.
Buck Leeper did not notice his wife’s revision of the prayer. He squeezed her hand as she sat down, knowing that he couldn’t have made it without her. She hadn’t saved his life, exactly, nor he hers. Two hopeless drunks had pushed and pulled together, mostly fifty-fifty, and by the grace of God, they had each made themselves a gift offering to the other. He knew it couldn’t have happened if he hadn’t prayed with Father Tim that night in the rectory. Thank you, God, for loving me and for sending your Son to die for my sins. I sincerely repent of my sins and receive Christ as my personal savior. Now as your child, I turn my entire life over to you. So simple. So mighty.
There would be healing with her children, he could feel it. His heart swelled with some new hope as he read his part in the Prayers of the People.
Harley cleared his throat and stood. He would rather take a whipping.
‘Make their life together a sign of Christ’s love to this sinful and broken world . . .’ He paused briefly and carried on. ‘. . . that unity may overcome . . .’ He did not like this next word, it was long as a coal train . . . ‘estrangement, forgiveness heal guilt, an’ joy conquer despair.’ Breathing like a man reprieved, he sat. How anybody could make heads or tails out of that he didn’t know.
‘Amen!’
Mink Hershell squirmed in his chair. The torment of it. Sure, he thought the world of Dooley and Lace and the little kid was a blessing, but it looked like they’d be in this tent till the cows came home, which they already did, in case nobody noticed.
‘Stay awake,’ said Honey.
He was cured of weddings; he’d rather go to a funeral.
Third row back on the bride’s side, Agnes Merton, longtime sexton of Holy Trinity Church up the holler, was signing the ceremony for her son, Clarence, deaf since early childhood. The signing came so naturally to her that she was able also to dwell, however briefly, on her affection for the celebrant.
Father Tim’s stability had been a spiritual banquet, nay, a lifesaver, for her and for Clarence. All those years she and her son had worked in the forsaken little church, so remote from anyone, and then he had come, this good man—fording the creek, climbing the mountain, and ending up in their lives, a sweet savor of the one true Father. Oh, he was fully human—could even be a mite snappish at times, but that was the worst of it.
Father Tim lifted his arms. ‘God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit, bless, preserve, and keep you: the Lord mercifully with his favor look upon you, and fill you with all spiritual benediction and grace; that you may faithfully live together in this life, and in the age to come have life everlasting.’
‘Amen!’
‘The peace of the Lord be always with you!’
‘And also with you!’
Danny Hershell had read the program and knew this was it, it was now or never.
‘Kiss th’ bride!’ he hollered. What was wrong with people in this religion that guys didn’t get to kiss th’ bride? His mama would kill him, but she had killed him before any number of times.
The crowd applauded big-time. And ol’ Dooley, he leaned over and laid one on her. Then he, Danny Do-Right Hershell, did what had to be done, though nobody had asked him to do it: he rang the cowbell loud as he could.
Everybody was standing, people clapping, cheering, Doc Harper running up th’ aisle with his camera, and whoa—the musicians playin’ somethin’ really cool and for sure not out of a church songbook an’ there came th’ bride and Dooley and th’ little guy still asleep.
Honey gave Mink a look. ‘You half kill ’im,’ she said, ‘an’ I’ll handle th’ other half.’
Say la vee, they had a boy who was out of control, a factor that came from her side, which was Irish. He sighed deeply and took Honey’s pocketbook off the knob of her chair and slung it over his shoulder. He carried it for her everywhere but never asked anymore what was in it. Blow-dryer, a Bible-study book that weighed more than a refrigerator, a quart jar of beans to give a neighbor, her entire makeup kit with twenty shades of eye shadow, Lord knows.
The music was crankin’, two or three people were dancin’ in the aisle, he was out of here.
While Jack Tyler was in the hall room they ducked across to the library and collapsed on the sofa, and there came Doc Harper with his Nikon.
‘Okay, hold it,’ said the bride’s dad, backing up to the pool table.
‘There you go.’ Flash, flash. ‘Beautiful.’ Flash, flash. ‘Okay, smile at the camera, perfect.’ Flash. ‘Now kiss the bride, we got some great shots in the tent.’ Flash, flash. ‘Laughing is good, fine, wonderful.’ Flash, flash, flash.
‘And here comes our boy!’ said the photographer, stepping out to the hallway. ‘Hold it, buddy. Right there. Give me a smile, there you go, like th’ pants. Okay, walk this way, keep coming, good, great, we’re done—posterity is served. You’ll thank me for this, guys. See you at the barn.’
‘You can quit your day job, Doc!’
She loved seeing her parents so happy. At some weddings, only one side of the aisle was happy.
‘I’m hungry,’ said Jack Tyler.
‘We are, too,’ she said. ‘But we’re going to look at our rings first.’
‘Why?’
‘Because there’s a surprise inside.’
‘What?’
‘Take yours off and we’ll see.’
Dooley turned on the lamp by the sofa and helped Jack Tyler remove the small band—it was a bit of a tug.
He held the ring under the light and squinted at the inscription. ‘See that really tiny word? It says . . . forever.’
Jack Tyler took a deep breath.
‘That’s how long we’re going to be a family,’ said Dooley.
‘How long is forever?’ His old granny said his real dad was gone forever and his real mom went gone forever next.
Lace slipped his ring on again, the ring she had bought based strictly on hope. ‘Forever is always.’
‘I won’t go back to my old granny ever?’
‘You will be with us and we will be with you. Forever.’
He stood close to the mom and put his hand on her knee. Her shining dress was soft and smooth, and she leaned over and kissed the top of his head.
‘Is there words in your ring?’
She didn’t know. She hoped; she really, really hoped. But maybe not.
‘Read your ring,’ said her husband.
Yes! He had done it! She was happy in a small way she hadn’t known before.
Jack Tyler crowded so close he could feel the mom’s breath on his face. Something was going off in him like firecrackers because of the magic stuff that was happening with rings.
She leaned to her husband and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Love you always!’
She removed her ring and in the light of the lamp read the minuscule words inside the band.
Love you always back.
‘You’re crying at your own wedding,’ he said.
So much happiness. It seemed dangerous, reckless.
Jack Tyler slumped to the floor. ‘I’m hungry.’
‘One more to go, buddy.’ Dooley removed his gold band, peered at the engraving.
Cherish.
He gave her a long look. ‘We can definitely do that,’ he said.
Heading to the barn, Julie carried the giant meatloaf and Cynthia the loaves of bread packed into a box.
‘We’re so happy you could come, Julie. It’s the cream in the jug, as the Brits like to say.’
‘My family adores Kenny and we’re very close to his grandparents. There are lots of us in Orego
n, but he misses his brothers and sister. Right now his work is seriously demanding, and with the house payments . . . but we prayed about finding a way to come and then the tickets showed up. We knew we were meant to be here.’
‘It’s a whodunit!’
‘No note, nothing to say who the sender was. And business class! We were thrilled. Lace thought it might have been her parents, but they deny it.’ Julie gave her a smile. ‘Did you and Father Tim do it?’
‘I’d love to take credit for such generosity, but no, we were convinced you couldn’t come because of work.’
‘We didn’t call to say we were coming, we just thought, Here are the tickets, of course we’re going. It was so interesting that no one seemed to expect us.’
She liked this pretty young woman who was twenty-four but looked like a schoolgirl and who, at five foot three, was a perfect bookend to herself.
They handed off their provender to Lily, who passed it along to Arbutus, who, in tandem with Violet, made the distributions.
‘If you could sit with Etta while I put Ethan to bed after dinner, I’d really appreciate it.’
‘I’d like nothing better.’
People were gathering at the shed, and a group tour was headed their way from the chicken lot.
‘Everyone seems to enjoy visiting the chickens,’ said Julie.
‘Wait till they bring in the llamas!’ She was excited about the possibility; there would definitely be a book in it. Maybe a pop-up this time.
It had come to her just now, the urgency. She must feed on God’s grace and she must hurry. If she waited beyond this day, she might never see her sons again—Sammy was leaving tomorrow; Kenny and his family would be gone early Tuesday. The words she read aloud in the ceremony had spoken directly to her. ‘. . . to recognize and acknowledge our fault and seek each other’s forgiveness.’
She could not ask their forgiveness. That was asking too much. She had long recognized her sin toward her children, and now her job was to acknowledge it through one simple admission. She had declined to give such admission all these years; instead, she and Pooh and Jessie and Dooley had stepped over and around what some called the elephant in the room.