by Penn Gates
“How long have they been out there?” Nix whispers.
“You're not gonna scold 'em for wasting time, are you?” Cash asks. “'Cause that would just be wrong.” He nuzzles her neck.
“I don’t wanna,” she whispers.
Cash frog marches her toward the door. “I’m behind you all the way,” he whispers in her ear and gives her a none-to-gentle nudge.
“Here they come!” somebody yells.
The crowd of teenagers surges around the two of them, pounding Cash on the back, but patting Nix on her arm. They want to show their admiration, but they’re a little leery of her reaction. She doesn’t disappoint them.
“OK, that's enough of that!” Nix says, raising her voice to be heard. “We did what had to be done, but I'll be damned if we’ll celebrate killing a man—even pond scum like that.”
“I don’t think that’s what we're doing,” Terry says firmly. “It was an awful thing, but it had to be done. And you guys did it so we didn’t have to.”
Nix has never liked attention and she feels like bolting, but Cash has a finger through one of the belt loops on the back of her jeans. “Is that fried chicken?” he asks, changing the subject. “I'm starvin'.”
Brittany appears at Nix's side. “Let's talk.”
Nix sighs. “Really, Brit? Give me a few minutes to wolf down some food—I’ve lost track of when I ate last.”
Brittany leads her toward the picnic table. “I can talk and you can eat,” she says reasonably.
“Margaret must have made this,” Nix comments as she bites into a drumstick.
Brittany sticks out her tongue. “As a matter of fact, I did. So there!”
“And you wanted to make sure you could brag about it,” Nix comments. “OK—best I've ever tasted. Now can I finish my meal in peace?”
Brittany looks pleased and disappointed, all at the same time. “I'll leave you alone in a second—I will! Just one quick question. I know you said I could do what I want with all the clothes in the attic, but can I use the old sewing machine, too? You know, the one you work with your feet.”
“I didn't know you could sew,” Nix comments.
“I can't really, but—“ Brit looks earnestly at Nix. “Those girls don't have a stitch of clothes to wear. Whatever I can manage, it will be better than nothing, you know?”
“Knock yourself out,” Nix says. “Just remember to be practical.”
“Awesome!” Brittany squeals. She jumps up. “Save my seat. I just want to run over and tell Dicey about this.”
“Speaking of which, how are our patients doing?" Nix asks Margaret who is sitting across the table from her.
“Better than they were,” Margaret answers. “A clean place to sleep and good food to eat have done much to make them stronger. But I do not know how to help them heal their spirits.”
“They were traumatized,” Nix says. “It will take a long, long time before they feel safe—if they ever do.”
Martin sidles up to Nix and leans against her like an abandoned kitten. “I missed you. I was scared.”
“There was something I had to do, Martin. And you were here with people who's job it is to keep you safe.”
Martin puts his mouth close to her ear. “Did you kill the bad man? The one who hurt the girls?”
Nix heart sinks. Kids shouldn't have to ask questions like this. Ever. But that's not the world they live in any more. And Martin deserves a straight answer. She can tell by the way he's acting, it's important that he knows there's no more monster to fear.
“Yes, Martin. We had a trial and witnesses and the bad man was found guilty of murder and sentenced to be executed—that’s what it's called, execution. Cash and I had to do it. We didn't like it, but we had to keep everybody safe.”
“I'm glad you did!” Martin says fiercely.
Nix pulls him close for a hug and kisses his cheek. “Don't worry any more, all right? Everything's back to the way it should be. Promise.”
“Tell me about your batting average,” Nix suggests as she straightens up and tries to finish her meal before something else interrupts. “Last I heard, you were in a bit of a slump. How's that going?”
Nix listens to Martin rattle off numbers and wonders if Emma uses batting averages as story problems, because Martin sure seems to know what he's talking about.
She’s just about convinced herself that things really are back to normal when she catches sight of George. He sits slumped in a chair at the end of the table. He seems faraway—almost like he can’t see or hear the people around him.
“Margaret,” Nix frowns, “What’s going on with George? He looks awful.”
At that moment, Cash raises his voice. “While you all are still sittin' around, I've got somethin’ to tell you. We all know how shy Nix can be, so she asked me to give you the news.”
Everyone snickers at the idea of Nix as a shrinking violet, but they all suddenly look alert. These days, any news can change everything in an instant.
Nix closes her eyes for a second and thinks, I feel a little delirious. I might have caught a cold yesterday. Maybe I should just go lie down.
She hears Cash calling her name. “Hey Nix, open your eyes. You don't want to miss this.”
She feels herself flushing, and all eyes now turn toward her as Cash says, “Nix and I are gonna get hitched, and you're all invited to the weddin’—which will be just as soon as George can get out his Bible and say the words over us.”
“I knew it! I just knew it!” Brittany squeals and grabs Nix. “From that day you almost killed me for—”
“All right, Brit,” Nix says, disentangling herself. “Quit while you're ahead for once.”
She feels like she's swimming in a sea of people, all trying to congratulate her at the same time. Over their shoulders she catches a glimpse of Cash talking to George, who is still looking grim. They are clearly having a disagreement.
Nix squirms her way through the press of bodies. “What's up?” she asks Cash.
“George says he can't marry us. He's not a minister.”
“Oh, for Christ’ sake!" She turns to George. “You're the closest thing we've got to one. You've made our spiritual welfare your business right from the beginning." She knows as soon as she utters the words that what she intended as a statement of fact sounds like a put down.
“George, what I mean is—these kids, a lot of their parents were on their second or third marriages. They all knew people who just lived together without bothering to make it legal. We don't want that kind of thinking around here, do we?”
“We want to do this right and proper, George.” Nix looks at him earnestly. “Help us do that, won't you?”
She feels Cash lightly brush his hand across the small of her back, and she knows she's gotten it right on her second try.
George nods reluctantly, but he says. “When would you like the ceremony?”
“Now's as good a time as any,” Cash answers. “It not like we have to get a marriage license or post bans.”
“But you must have a traditional wedding,” Margaret says, and Nix realizes she's been standing there listening the whole time. “After all, it is the first in our little community.”
What is it that I just heard in her voice when she said the first, Nix wonders, and then notices George give his sister a disapproving look. Maybe the word he's wondering about is community, she thinks. As far as he's concerned, this isn't their community at all.
“How long would that take to put together?” Cash asks Margaret.
“We could do it in a day—it is not as if we have to rent a hall,” she says impishly and then blushes at the boldness of her little joke. “We could have it tomorrow evening.” She looks at her brother for confirmation.
Nix can feel Cash’s eyes on her, and she knows what he’s thinking. The occasion doesn't just belong to them. It's part of the life of the community. They're doing it because of the community.
The crowd has clustered around them again, talking exci
tedly about the latest development. It makes Nix nervous.
She opens her mouth to voice a last objection, but it comes out, “Sounds great.”
God knows what nonsense they'll dream up. Brittany has a certain lunatic gleam in her eye that Nix remembers from the few times she was coerced into attending an engagement party or wedding shower. Not just the bride-to-be, but every young woman involved, caught Bridezilla fever.
“Hey Nix!” Cash nudges Martin forward. The kid looks like he's lost his best friend. “This fella seems kind of down about something.”
“Hey bud, what's up?”
Martin won't look at her. “Nothing.”
“Doesn’t look like nothing to me,” Nix decides. “It must be this wedding stuff—have you ever actually been to a wedding?”
He doesn't answer, just shakes his head. Could be a yes, might be a no. Hard to tell.
“Well, the most important thing is that someone in the bride's family has to walk down the aisle with her. Did you know that?”
This time she's sure he's shaking his head no.
“I was wondering if you would walk with me,” Nix says. “That way I won't be so scared if I'm holding your hand.”
“You scared?” Martin scoffs. He studies her face to make sure she's not teasing him and decides she’s telling the truth. “Don't be afraid. Cash will always keep you safe.”
Nix takes his hand. “I don't mean scared like that. It's just—I never lived with anybody since I was a little kid. I don't know how good I'll be at it.”
Martin shakes his head. “I don't know about you sometimes, Nix. You been living with a bunch of people since we got here, and you're doing just fine. One should be easy.”
Nix laughs. “You're absolutely right. What would I do without you, Martin?" She gives him a hug. “So—are you? Gonna walk down the aisle with me?”
“Sure. Is that all I gotta do?”
“Nope,” Cash interjects. “Once you deliver the bride, you'll stand next to me and be my best man.”
“What's a best man?” Martin wants to know.
“He's the groom's best friend,” Cash answers.
Martin grins. “When is this gonna happen?”
“Tomorrow evening,” Nix grumbles. “As long as they can build the wedding cake and find some doves to release by then." She jerks her head in the direction of the shack. “Let's go,” she says to Cash. “I'm tired again.”
“Sorry,” he says. “The guys are having a bachelor party for me. Can you believe that?”
“Exactly how do you have a bachelor party, post Geezer?” she asks with her hands on her hips.
“The boys gutted the camper and they're gonna have a huge bonfire—so don't freak out when you see the flames, OK?”
“Why not burn the whole fucking thing?” Nix asks angrily before she realizes Martin is still standing there. She looks down at him. “Sorry—I used one of the forbidden words. My bad.”
“We only had the one vehicle, now we got two,” Cash says, “And with the back opened up we can haul a shitload of stuff." He kisses her lightly on the end of her nose. “We've got some remodelin' to do before the snow flies. We'll talk it all out later, OK?”
“I'll wait up for you,” Nix says with heavy irony.
“Yeah? Margaret just told me I'm not supposed to see you until the actual weddin’. Some superstition about it bein’ bad luck.”
“It's bad luck already. They're taking over our lives.”
“Hell, that happened months ago.” Cash grins. “Go play nice with the girls—just this once.”
A little after nine, Nix escapes to her bedroom. She kneels by the window, enjoying the coolness as the heat of the day dissipates. The sun has set, but the horizon is still visible in the afterglow. She remembers that drive-in movies would begin after nine thirty because of the long summer days. If they started before it was completely dark, the screen would be a fuzzy blur and car horns would blare in protest. Drive-ins make her think of Frank, and she frowns. How could she have once thought he was cool? She rests her chin on her hand. Still, if it wasn't for Frank's big mouth, would Cash have ever gotten around to admitting his feelings?
He would have sooner or later. Cash always seems so certain about everything, she thinks, whether it's an engine he's repaired or a plan he's made. What am I certain of? She lifts her face to the night breeze stirring the curtains. Only that I am scared out of my mind. What if this disturbs the balance between us and it all goes to hell?
From someplace in the field behind the barn, there's a flicker of light, then a whooshing sound, and flames shoot into the air. Nix still wishes they were burning the whole damn camper, but it's definitely time for a supply run and another vehicle will be useful.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Nix wakes and remembers her grandmother's wedding dress. It hangs alone in the wardrobe, where Gramps' suit had made it a couple for so many years. She gropes her way toward it in the dark and stubs her toe.
“God damn it!” she yelps and claps her hand over her mouth. Brittany had wasted no time moving the boys into the new wing so Dicey and the others would have the bedrooms nearest the girls of St Clair farm—and startling a PTSD victim out of a sound sleep is always a bad idea.
She reaches down and massages her toe, which is throbbing. She smiles as she remembers how Gramps would instruct her to think about something else instead of the pain she felt wherever she’d injured herself. “Think about your big toe, instead,” he used to say and damned if it didn’t work.
So think about the dress, she counsels herself and limps to the wardrobe. She finds it easily, even in the dark, by the feel of the satin. It’s an ivory color, she remembers, not white—and simple, not frilly. Maybe she's inherited her dislike of fussy, feminine clothes from her grandmother. Or maybe it's because Mamma Moonbeam was always so over the top, and Nix has always worked hard to be nothing like her.
Nix pulls the dress over her head, and it slithers into place as if it was made for her. She runs her hands over the smoothness of the fabric clinging to her hips. She doesn't need to look in a mirror to know. It will do.
Early in the morning—so early, in fact, that George isn't even awake—Cash slips into her room. “They're crazy if they think they're goin’ to keep us apart the whole day.”
Nix pats the mattress next to her. “Come talk to me—but no fooling around. We're in the heart of the convent now.”
“Talkin' is good,” Cash says, linking his fingers through hers.
They lay in silence for awhile, just holding hands.
“Do you have your overalls cleaned and ironed for tonight?” he asks.
“Never mind that,” Nix says. “You'll just have to wait and see what comes down the aisle at you—and by then, it'll be too late to run.”
“Want to know where we're goin' on our honeymoon?"
“Not Hawaii,” Nix says. “Because everybody goes to Hawaii. I was hoping for something off the beaten path.”
“I think I can promise that. I figured we'd wait a week, though, 'til things settle down around here.” He brings her hand up to his mouth and kisses the tips of her fingers. “Anyways, all I want for the next few days is you, me, and some privacy.”
Nix resists the urge to take advantage of the fact that they're lying together in a house where everyone else is sleeping. Why do I make so many rules, she thinks, when all I want is to break them?
“What are we going to be looking for—on our honeymoon?” she asks instead.
“I was thinkin’—”
“Uh-oh,” Nix says. “This doesn't sound like a small project.”
“It's not gonna be,” Cash says. “We got lots of folks scattered all over the place, but when winter comes, we gotta get ‘em more bunched together or else we'll be doin' nothin’ but cuttin' wood to keep 'em warm.”
He turns on his side and looks at her. “There's a lot of space under roof in this old house, but a lot of it needs an upgrade—big time.”
Ni
x thinks of her dreams for the attic. “Sounds good. What do you have in mind?”
“That mess downstairs in the new wing. Do you know what they used it for?”
“I think the very back was a wood shed, but the rest—I don't know, a kind of utility room or work room? I can't remember a time it wasn't just a place to store junk.”
“What do you say we clean it up and make it a big dinin’ hall so everybody can eat together? Seems like that's when people have the time to talk to each other, don't it?”
Nix thinks of the attic again. “Do you think there's any chance we could do something with the attic someday?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I once thought it could be a community room, but now I'm thinking—we could make it into sort of an apartment for you and me.”
“What's wrong with the shack?” he asks, pretending to be insulted.
Nix hits him with a pillow. “It can be our summer place,” she says, then freezes. “I heard someone in the hall.”
“So what? We're gonna make it legal today. How shockin’ can it be that I'm in your bedroom?”
“I was thinking more about one of the girls suddenly running into a man outside her room. I could see how that might push any of them over the edge.”
“I'm not that scary lookin’, am I?" He stands up. “Hell, it ain't a problem—I’ll just go out the window.”
“What!”
“Porch roof's right under your window.” Cash grins. “More than one night I thought about climbin' up here.” He puts a leg over the sill. “See you tonight, Nix.” And he's gone.
Chapter 22
The ceremony is scheduled for just before suppertime and the wedding dinner will follow. As Nix slips on the satin dress, she feels so anxious she almost takes it off again. No one else has anything remotely nice to wear, and she’ll be outrageously overdressed. She’ll stick out like a sore thumb. Maybe it's not too late to run upstairs and rummage through the piles of old clothes that are now Brittany's. She's about to do just that when there's a quick tap on the door and Brit sticks her head into the room.
“Oh my God!” Brittany squeals. “That dress is fabulous! Where was that hiding?”
