by Nancy Thayer
She’s so much like her mother, thought Jilly.
The rest of the household gradually came into the living room, carrying their mugs of hot coffee. It was seven in the morning. No reason to hurry. The day was bright and sunny and if the children needed to work off some energy before the wedding, they could play in the backyard. As far as Jilly was concerned, no one was going very far from the house today until they went to the church for the wedding.
The family exchanged presents, and what a lot of presents there were. So many people and so many combinations! Even Rex, who sauntered back into the room, blasé and nonchalant, as if he hadn’t just run for his life, got Christmas gifts. Lawrence lay on his belly in the hall, winding up the trick mouse and watching Rex chase it, and later Portia dangled the feathery bird from the wand for Rex to jump for. He caught it easily, wrenched it from Portia’s dainty hand, and carried his prize under the sofa. Archie wrestled the cat tree into the living room and set it by the window—George was going to do it but of course couldn’t because of his sprained ankle. Rex saw it, clawed it, and sprinted to the highest shelf, where he proceeded to curl up and fall asleep.
By nine o’clock they all agreed to take a break and enjoy breakfast. Lauren and Felicia, taking pity on Jilly with her cold, went into the kitchen to work together, whipping up a big batch of pancakes, frying a huge platter of bacon, and scrambling eggs with cheese.
Felicia returned to the living room. “Mom, the cat’s begging for some scrambled eggs. Do you ever feed him real people food?”
Jilly rose from her chair. “I’ll come feed him. I want to be sure the eggs aren’t too hot and I don’t want to give him too many at one time. I don’t know how they’ll agree with him.”
“Geez, you would think that cat was a child,” Felicia teased her mother.
The family gathered around the table for breakfast. The children bolted their food and ran outside to the backyard to play catch with a Velcro ball and Velcro mitts. Fortunately the ball was green; it would stand out when it landed in the snow. When the children got cold, they came back inside and the present opening resumed. Jilly brought in a large paper bag and a large plastic bag, one for recycling trash and the other for keeping bows, ribbons, and wrapping paper that wasn’t too wrinkled to be used again. Lauren and Felicia exchanged amused glances.
Finally all the presents were opened. It was almost time for lunch but no one was hungry because of the huge breakfast.
Always organized, Jilly took charge: “Everyone go take showers and get ready for the wedding. We’ll leave for the church at one-thirty. Pat and I will clean the kitchen from breakfast and put out some sandwiches and fruit for you to munch on if you’re hungry now. Felicia, don’t let Archie see you in your wedding gown and don’t put it on until Pat, Lauren, and I are there to help you.”
“Who’s going to help me dress?” asked George.
“I’ll help you of course, don’t worry,” Jilly told him. She had enormous amounts of patience on her daughter’s wedding day.
Lauren and Porter bathed and dressed their children. They settled them on the sofa in the family room watching a video while they put on their wedding finery.
At twelve-thirty, Nicole Somerset knocked on the front door. “Merry Christmas!” she greeted Jilly, kissing her on the cheek. “I’ve come to fetch the poinsettias to put them in the church. Is there anything else you need me to do?”
“I don’t think so, Nicole.” Jilly pulled her friend into the front hall for warmth while they talked. “Archie has stacked the bottles of champagne for the reception on the back porch. We certainly don’t need to use the refrigerator today. I’ve called the caterers and they’re dropping the food off in about an hour. Archie’s mother, Pat, is a whirlwind of energy and she’s already tidied up the living room and dining room and vacuumed them both. I can’t believe it, but I think we’re good to go.”
Nicole followed Jilly down the hall and through the kitchen. Jilly opened the basement door and rescued the poinsettia plants from the top step. As they were shutting the basement door, the two women noticed Rex curled up in the laundry basket.
“I think the poor guy’s exhausted from all the commotion this morning,” Jilly told Nicole.
“If you’re lucky, he’ll sleep all day,” Nicole said. “Cats need lots of sleep.”
After that, everything moved swiftly. Jilly helped her husband shower and dress, then gave George to the tender mercies of Porter and Archie, who were responsible for getting him to the church in time to walk Felicia down the aisle. Pat, Jilly, and Lauren clustered in Felicia’s bedroom to help her dress.
“I thought you might want to wear this,” said Pat. Handing a blue silk garter embroidered with tiny white roses to Felicia, she explained, “It was my mother’s. She and my father were married for sixty years. Now you have something borrowed and something blue and something old.”
“Thank you, Pat, this means so much to me. I’ll treasure it.” Tears swelled in Felicia’s eyes.
“Don’t you dare cry!” Lauren ordered. “You’ll ruin your makeup. Besides, I want to give you something, too.” She handed Felicia a small turquoise box tied with a white ribbon.
Felicia opened the box and found a thin silver bracelet from Tiffany’s lying on a cushion.
“Something new, you see, and after the wedding you can tuck it away here at the house so you don’t lose it when you’re trekking through Outer Mongolia.” Lauren had tears in her eyes.
Jilly, who had promised herself she wouldn’t cry, felt tears sting her own eyes as she watched her two daughters hug. Noticing that Pat was standing by herself, she went over and wrapped her arm around the other woman’s shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Porter yelled up the stairs. “We should go!”
Lauren kissed her sister’s cheek. “See you at the church.” Jilly watched out the window as Porter drove George, Lauren, Archie, and the two children in George’s SUV.
“The coast is clear!” Jilly exclaimed. “Let’s transport you to the church, Felicia.”
“Mom, you’re acting like some kind of CIA operative. Archie has seen me before, you know.”
“True, but he’s never seen you like this.” Jilly, Pat, and Felicia stared at the bride in the mirror in her long white satin gown with the bright red ribbon and the circlet of flowers in her hair. She wore more makeup than usual, meaning that she wore pink lipstick and mascara. She didn’t need blush because her skin was glowing with happiness and her cheeks were flushed with anticipation.
Jilly helped to slip the red cape over Felicia, hood up for warmth. Together the four women went out to Jilly’s car to drive to the church.
Once they arrived in the foyer of the church, Jilly got choked up all over again when she saw her grandchildren standing—wriggling—in wait for the ceremony. Portia wore a darling red velvet dress and a circlet of red roses in her hair and she carried a Nantucket lightship basket full of red rose petals. Lawrence was wearing gray flannels and a navy blue blazer with a rose boutonniere. He held a white satin pillow in his hands and Porter knelt next to him.
“I’m going to put these rings on the pillow now, Lawrence. The ceremony is about to begin. No messing around, you understand? This is important.”
Lawrence nodded, gritting his teeth together and looking rather tortured as he tried to keep still.
From the sanctuary, came the familiar strains of Pachelbel’s “Canon.” Everyone invited was already there, seated and looking cheerful and expectant. Could it happen? Jilly wondered. Could it really happen that this funny little ceremony could go off with some kind of elegance?
The minister came in in his white robes with a purple stole draped around his shoulders. Porter escorted Pat down the aisle to her seat in the front pew, then took his place near the altar as Archie’s best man. Lauren, a movie star in her green velvet dress, escorted Jilly to her seat next to Pat, because this was the way Felicia wanted it, and it was good for Pat not to sit alone. La
uren stood at the altar, facing the door at the back.
The music paused. A hush fell over the sanctuary. The familiar notes of “Here Comes the Bride” sounded through the church. Lawrence wobbled down the aisle, holding the pillow with both hands; he had gone white with terror at being in front of all these people. Little Portia followed, pink with pride, scattering rose petals.
Felicia entered the sanctuary, with her arm through her father’s. George had given up his crutches and was using a cane for the ceremony. It lent him an amazing dignity and Jilly cried in earnest now because she cared for him so enormously. Looking at her second daughter’s face, she saw the same enduring emotion radiating from Felicia’s eyes as she looked at Archie waiting for her by the altar.
25
As Felicia walked down the aisle, her brain split into two parts, the way she’d read brains do during times of trauma. One part of her consciousness made her aware of the small party of guests standing and smiling at her. The other part had turned into a chattering monkey, babbling: Don’t trip on your long skirt! Gosh, Lauren is so beautiful! She’ll always be more beautiful than you! Portia and Lawrence are so adorable; I wish I had had this videotaped. No, I don’t, that would make me really nervous. If Dad leans on me much harder, we’re both going to tip over onto the floor. I should have checked the mirror to see if I have anything in my teeth. No, wait, Lauren looked me over, she wouldn’t have let me walk down the aisle with something in my teeth. Oh, gosh, there are Lloyd and Madeleine Park. She was my favorite babysitter of all time. Goodness, she’s gotten older. How nice that Mom and Dad asked Pat to sit with them. There’s Steven and David. I wonder if they’ll be getting married soon. That will give Mom something to do! The Somersets have been such good friends to my parents; I’m glad they’re here. Archie. There’s Archie. He looks so happy. Oh, wow, we’re going to get married, if I don’t trip on this dress before I make it to the altar.
She had performed so many daring feats in her life. She was perfectly capable of standing in front of a group of complete strangers and telling them in no uncertain terms how to fasten on their life vests or where to sit in a raft. The group in the church was small and most of them were family and Felicia was so very happy—and still she was trembling like a sail in a gale force wind.
When she reached the altar, Archie reached out and squeezed her hand. All at once everything was unquestionably all right.
The ceremony took place without interruption, except for the moment when Lawrence looked up at his mother and whispered loudly, “When is that man going to stop talking? When can I give Archie the rings?” Of course the tiny congregation heard his words and a ripple of laughter passed through the group.
Finally, Lawrence’s starring moment appeared; he held up the pillow to Archie, who removed Felicia’s ring, and to Felicia, who removed the other ring. And in a golden blur, rings and vows were exchanged, and Archie was kissing her with more ardor than was probably appropriate in front of other people. It brought applause from the congregation.
To the melody of “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” Archie and Felicia, man and wife, proceeded down the aisle to the church foyer. Everyone else followed, and Porter slipped in front of the married couple to throw open the wide church doors. On the street, waiting for the newlyweds, was a stately open black carriage trimmed with gold, pulled by two white horses wearing festive harnesses of red. When they shook their manes, the golden bells on the leather jingled.
“Oh, boy! Horses!” Lawrence was down the steps in a flash. Portia followed him and Lauren followed her and Porter followed them all, crying, “Slow down. Don’t scare the horses. Remember, they don’t know you.”
Pat took Felicia by the hands. “At last I have a daughter.” Eyes shining, Pat kissed Felicia’s cheek.
Jilly helped tie the red cape around Felicia, then hugged her hard. “You are completely dazzling. We’ll see you back at the house.”
George shook hands with Archie, kissed Felicia on her cheek, and said, “Congratulations. Enjoy your ride. Where’s Porter? I need to sit down.”
The newlyweds ran down the steps under the shower of rice thrown by the Somersets and the Millses. Porter had already lifted his children up into the carriage where they sat on either side of the driver who wore a black dress coat, a red-and-white-striped muffler, and a black top hat. Archie handed Felicia up into the carriage, then stepped up himself to sit next to her, as close as he could squeeze, on seats of tufted red leather. Archie wore wool socks that came to his knees, but he was grateful for the red wool blanket that had been thoughtfully provided and tucked over both their laps.
The Gordons had consulted with the driver of the carriage to plan an extensive route along the one-way streets of the core part of town so that the rest of the wedding party would have time to get to the house on Chestnut Street to greet the newlyweds when they arrived. So the party clip-clopped merrily down Fair Street, down Main Street, along Centre Street, Broad Street, Federal Street, and back up Main. Pedestrians on the sidewalks, children on new snowshoes, and dog walkers with their pets on candy-cane-striped leashes waved and cheered at the carriage as it passed. Portia waved back enthusiastically. Lawrence was fixated on the horses, firing questions at the driver about how much they weighed, how old they were, what they ate, and where they went to the bathroom.
As they progressed slowly along the narrow streets, Felicia saw their reflections in the shop windows. They really did look like some kind of dream come true. Archie held her hand in his and often leaned to kiss her. The movement of the carriage was slow and stately, like floating on a cloud. Lauren had been wise to insist they ride in a carriage after their wedding. It made the day, to use her mother’s word, perfect.
Archie whispered to Felicia, “When we stop traveling to have our own children, let’s bring them back here every Christmas for a ride in the horse-drawn carriage.”
Tears filled Felicia’s eyes. “Oh, Archie, what a brilliant idea!”
“Lawrence,” Portia yelled, “they’re kissing!”
26
The church was only a five-minute walk from the Gordons’ house on Chestnut Street. Knowing that it would take Porter a few moments to help George into the car, Jilly decided to walk—run, actually, in the most dignified possible manner—to the house to be sure it was ready for the arrival of the newlyweds and the guests. Porter drove George back in Jilly’s car and Lauren drove her mother’s car back. Pat walked with Jilly, sprinting along in an easy glide, so the two mothers were the first to walk up the sidewalk, unlock the door, and step into the front hall.
Everything here was shipshape. The antique mirror above the hall table had been polished to a gleam. Jilly hung her coat and Pat’s in the hall closet. Together they went into the living room.
And came to a dead halt.
Scattered all over the living room floor were fragments of Jilly’s holiday figurines that had once paraded across the mantel. Santa’s apple-cheeked head lay next to Rudolph’s nose and an angel’s wings framed Frosty’s white belly. Other pieces had been shattered too completely to be recognizable. They glistened on the rug like jelly beans.
“Oh my gosh, what happened here?” Pat gasped.
What had happened was obvious: “Rex.”
In the middle of the debris, the orange cat lay limp, his head pillowed by a gray catnip rat, its tail extending from the darling Christmas stocking Jilly had made for him.
“When we gave Rex his presents this morning,” Jilly said, figuring it all out, “we forgot to give him his stocking. It was hanging from the mantel and he must have been able to smell the catnip from the floor. It looks like he jumped up onto the mantel, walked along the edge until he could reach down and snag his stocking. Somehow he got the stocking and the rat onto the floor. He pulled the catnip rat out, and there he is.”
“He looks like he’s drunk,” Pat observed.
“I’m sure he is.” Jilly looked around the room. “People will be here any moment.” She f
elt oddly calm.
“You do something with the cat and I’ll start sweeping up the mess,” Pat suggested. “Do you want me to save the pieces of figurines?”
Jilly shook her head. “At the moment, I’m too overwhelmed by everything to make one more decision.” She lifted the cat, who opened one eye and snuggled against her. She carried him upstairs to her bedroom and laid him on the floor, so he wouldn’t roll over, fall off the bed, and hurt himself—who knew what could happen to a drunken cat? Then she left the room, shutting the door tightly behind her.
In the living room, Pat was efficiently dealing with the mess. Jilly hurried back to the kitchen to peel the covers off the platters of gourmet munchies the caterers had brought to the house. She carried them to the dining room table, already covered with her grandmother’s ivory lace tablecloth.
She heard the front door open. Lauren, Porter, and George came in.
“We’ll settle you in the living room, Dad—what on earth happened here?”
Jilly took napkins out of the cupboard and set serving spoons and little forks on the dining room table. As she did, she listened to the conversation in the living room.
Pat was explaining Jilly’s theory of how the wreckage came to happen.
“You’d better relieve yourself of that darned cat,” snapped Lauren. “He’s too much trouble.”
“Get a dog,” Porter said. “You can train a dog. You can’t train a cat.”
“I like this cat,” said George stubbornly. “He’s like life. You can’t control the cat and you can’t control life, but sometimes if you take a risk and do something new, it’s worth it.”
“Oh, man, Dad.” Lauren sighed. “Don’t start talking about your fabulous wipeout again.”
