by Juliette Fay
“I’m Janie.”
“Alicia.” She hadn’t put the bags down yet.
“Nice to meet you. I can take those.”
“It’s okay.” Alicia continued to hold onto the bags as if they were ballast and she might levitate uncontrollably if she were to let them go.
Mike came back in from the porch. “That’s really something.”
“Yeah,” said Janie. “My friend Tug built it. You’ll meet him later.”
“Okay,” said Mike. He looked around. “New couch.”
She nodded. “I thought I’d put you two up in my room, and I could stay in the back bedroom down here.”
Mike’s brow furrowed. “Where’s Mum?”
“She’s staying at Uncle Charlie’s. We’re not really getting along so well at the moment.” She knew he wouldn’t think to ask why.
“Well, I’d rather stay down here,” he said, and started to move across the living room.
“Mike,” Janie said. “There’s more room up there. For you and Alicia.”
“We don’t need more room,” he said.
“There’s only a twin bed in the back bedroom.” Janie hoped she wasn’t embarrassing Alicia, but the obvious wasn’t always so obvious to Mike.
He looked at Alicia, who nodded. “It’s enough,” he said, and they went to put their bags away.
“Where’s Dylan?” Mike asked when he returned without Alicia. He sat down on the couch, ran his hand back and forth over a pillow, watched how the light changed the color depending on how he brushed the nap of the suede.
“Tug took the kids over to the Confectionary while I was doing some house cleaning. He should be back any minute.”
“Who’s Tug?”
“The guy who built the porch.” Janie sank down onto the couch next to him. “Listen,” she said. “Tug’s pretty important to me.” Mike looked up from the couch pillow. “We’re seeing each other,” said Janie.
“You’re dating?”
“Yeah, I know it’s a little shocking. I was pretty surprised myself, to tell you the truth. But we got to know each other while he was building the porch, and he’s a really good guy.”
Mike went back to brushing his hand across the cushion. “What did Mum say?”
Janie squinted. “She wasn’t too happy about it. That’s why she went to Uncle Charlie’s.”
“What about Cormac?”
“He likes Tug. He thinks it’s a good thing.”
There was a low sound from the back bedroom, a tiny cough, as if a bird were clearing its throat. Mike looked up, listened for a moment. “Alicia’s shy,” he said. “I think she might be worried you won’t like her.”
This was new—Mike didn’t generally anticipate and interpret other people’s feelings. “I’m sure I will once I get to know her,” said Janie. “You two seem pretty close.”
“Yeah.” A slow smile spread across his face. He glanced at Janie, then away. “She gets me.”
The air caught in Janie’s chest for a moment, and she felt a twinge of emotion pressing behind her eyes. Very few people got Mike. Janie herself didn’t always fully understand him. The miracle and surprise of being “gotten” by someone was fresh in her experience. She put her hand on his shoulder, gave it a little shake. “Way to go,” she whispered.
He nodded, satisfied.
ON THE NIGHT OF the rehearsal dinner, a certain frenzy blew through the house as Janie tried to get herself and the children appropriately attired. Alicia flicked in and out of the bathroom, and by her silent, panic-faced wardrobe changes, Janie had assessed her to be generally anxious and rather wealthy.
It had been so long since Janie had worn a serious dress and the requisite accessories, she felt at a loss to decide what looked good on her anymore. She found herself asking Dylan, the only member of the household who was available for comment. His opinions, however, tended to run to bright colors and big jewelry, neither of which Janie was sure she could pull off. He sat bouncing on her bed in his little button-down shirt and tie, as she pulled out one outfit after another. Carly climbed off and on the bed, the skirt of her green velour dress slipping up over her tights-covered diaper.
“The purple one!” yelled Dylan, as if he were a game show contestant. “I pick the purple one!”
The dress isn’t actually purple, Janie thought, humoring herself, it’s more of an eggplant color. It was a little more fitted than she felt entirely comfortable with, but it was pretty, and she seemed to remember there was some good silver jewelry that would work.
She was finally dressed and ready just as Tug arrived with his niece Sophie, who had been hired to come with them and play with Carly during the rehearsal at the church. Janie would bring her back to the house to babysit the kids while she went to the dinner afterward.
Tug gave Janie one of his soaking-you-up-like-a-man-sized-sponge looks, and the tension in her neck and shoulders released. She slipped over to him and adjusted his tie. “You look so…” She couldn’t think of the word. He was handsome to her even in his sawdust-covered work clothes. The formal attire only offered a different view of her attraction to him.
“I am not leaving tonight,” he whispered in her ear. “Everyone’s just going to have to deal with it. You included.”
THE REHEARSAL AT OUR Lady, Comforter of the Afflicted Church went smoothly. Barb’s uncle, a Jesuit priest with a passion for liturgical dance, was to preside at the wedding, and he conducted the run-through as if it were an old standard song that required a little extra in the way of choreography. He asked the flower girls, four-year-old twins who were sticky from the lollipops they’d been bribed with, to skip on their tiptoes as they strew their petals. Dylan was supposed to balance the black velvet pillow on one hand and hold the other arm out “inviting the congregation to view the sacred symbols of nuptial consecration.” Dylan squinted, confused, at Janie. “Just smile a lot,” she whispered.
Janie and Tug stood together watching the show. She leaned toward him to whisper something about Father Guys-and-Dolls, and his arm slipped easily around her waist. She caught a movement from the corner of her eye and saw Father Jake standing in the sacristy doorway behind the altar. He was half in shadow, his black clothing blending in with the darkened room behind him. But she knew he was watching, taking in the man beside her with his hand resting with such familiarity on her hip. Tug’s head turned to follow her gaze. The priest closed the door behind him and went out the side door to the rectory.
WHEN THE CURTAIN FELL on the rehearsal at the church, Janie and Tug stopped home to drop off Sophie and the children. Dylan had been shy with Sophie at first, promising Janie he would not “do any trouble” if he were allowed to attend the dinner. But by the end of the rehearsal, he was sick of his tie and button-down shirt, and Sophie had won him over with the physicality of her confidence. Dylan and Janie watched with startled fascination as Sophie stood at the back of the church and threw a happily shrieking Carly into the air over and over. She arm-wrestled Dylan in one of the pews and let him win, but just barely. Back at the house, Sophie was chasing them up the stairs on her hands and knees as Janie called good-bye.
The rehearsal dinner was held at Bradford Country Squire Restaurant, a long brown building with tiny-paned windows and a wood-shingled roof, built in the 1970s to resemble an upscale Colonial home. It was chosen by Barb’s parents because they considered it to be the classiest restaurant in Pelham. The food was distinctly unmemorable, but jackets were required. The effect was reduced somewhat by its shared parking lot with the Pelham Ball Field.
“After dinner we’ll have batting practice,” Janie joked. Tug’s face remained blank. “What?” she asked.
“Your mother,” he said, and Janie immediately regretted giving him such a detailed account of their quarrel. She had perhaps gotten a little too comfortable telling him everything, forgetting that items involving him directly required a certain amount of discretion. Relationship 101, she thought. I’m rusty.
Though they
had been invited to come to the church, Noreen and Aunt Jude had opted to meet the wedding party at the restaurant. They were standing in the hallway outside the banquet room, waiting for everyone to arrive. Janie saw Aunt Jude lean near her mother to say something as they approached. Noreen stepped away from her and began to look for something—or nothing, Janie thought—in her purse. Disgusted, Janie had every intention of walking right past her mother and finding the waitress to order a drink.
“Mrs. Dwyer,” she heard Tug say, his voice friendly without being obsequious. “Tug Malinowski. We met at Dylan’s birthday party.”
“Yes,” said Noreen, allowing him to shake her hand.
“It’s nice to see you again.”
Noreen nodded, looked away. “You did a fine job on that porch,” she said. “My son-in-law would be very happy with it.”
“I’m glad you think so,” said Tug, waiting a moment to catch her eye. “That was my goal.” He turned to Aunt Jude and kissed her on the cheek. “Jude, how are you?”
“Oh, Tug, dear. I’m just fine. It’s so exciting, don’t you think? A wedding? And Cormac seems happier than…than…” She looked past his shoulder, distracted. “Michael!”
“Hi, Aunt Jude,” muttered Mike. He delivered a quick, stilted hug, then another for his mother. “Mum, this is Alicia.”
Alicia reached her trembling fingers forward and shook each of their hands with a small, sharp jerk, startling Noreen.
It’s a tough day to be sensitive, thought Janie, as she and Tug slipped away toward the banquet room.
AFTERWARD, TUG DROVE SOPHIE home. Janie sat at the kitchen table and waited for him to return. Mike and Alicia went immediately into the back bedroom. Then Janie heard a tinkling sound, like a small bell ringing from far away, and wondered what it could be. It faded but did not stop entirely. Mike came into the kitchen, put a little water in the teakettle, and set it on the burner.
“Is someone crying?” Janie asked.
“Alicia,” he answered. “She just needs to, sometimes.”
Janie nodded. “I know how that goes.”
Mike looked at her for a second, uncomprehending. “Do you have any lemon?”
When he’d left with the cup of hot water and wedge of lemon for Alicia, Janie sat in the silent kitchen, at the table Robby had assembled from a kit. She glanced up at the framed photo that Barb had taken of her and the kids giggling together at Dylan’s birthday party. She waited for Tug. The crying stopped in the back bedroom, and then she heard a short, low burst of laughter from Mike.
One surprise after another, she thought.
WHEN THE FRONT DOOR opened, Janie expected that Tug would want to go up to the bedroom right away. She expected a little romance. But he poured himself a glass of water and sat at the table.
“What?” she said.
“What’s the deal with Father Jake.”
It took Janie a moment to switch gears from anticipating ravishment to having to answer for herself. “There is no deal,” she said. “I haven’t even talked to him in months.” This was not entirely true, she realized. It was only a few days ago that Jake had said, “Body of Christ,” and she had said, “Thanks.” But did that even count?
“I saw him at the church tonight,” said Tug.
“It’s his church,” she said, sounding defensive even to herself.
Tug crossed his arms. “I saw him come and go all summer.”
“Aunt Jude made him come because I wouldn’t go to that grief group.”
“I was in the yard that morning he skulked out of here barefoot,” he said quietly. “Don’t bullshit me, Janie.”
“Nothing happened!”
The unblinking stare.
So she told him. A version of it anyway, remembering his reaction to the fight she’d had with her mother. She didn’t reveal Jake’s secret, but she admitted there was some terrible trauma in his past. She didn’t tell quite how drawn to Jake she had been, but she did say that she’d felt understood for the first time since Robby’s death. She told about the middle-of-the-night e-mails, and what a lifeline they were. She’d felt safe with Jake, and so she’d called him after the home invasion. And he’d empathized so fully, he’d rushed over without thinking to change his clothes or even put on shoes.
“If it was all so wonderful, why did he stop showing up?”
“My mother thought we were getting too close, so she told him to stop coming.”
Tug ruminated on this for a moment. “Heck of a spoiler, isn’t she.”
“If I’m honest with myself,” Janie said, “she was probably right about Jake. We were getting too…dependent. It could have been a problem. I just hated how she went behind my back.”
“So,” said Tug. “Nothing I need to worry about, then.” This required an answer.
“Not a thing.”
“Except your mother.”
“She’s coming around.” Janie smiled. “I think the family is leaning on her to ease up.”
He gave a sly grin. “Little bit of pudding goes a long way.”
TUESDAY, JANUARY 1
Everyone’s still sleeping. Tug doesn’t snore, exactly, but his breath makes this funny “fah” sound sometimes, and it was bugging me. I’m drinking my coffee, enjoying the quiet. All year I’ve hated the quiet. Now I like it again.
The wedding was…
(Can’t think of a word other than “magical” which is so annoyingly Disney. I hate it when good words go bad.)
Dylan was great as the ringmaster, and only dropped the pillow once. The rings had been tied on with a little thread, so they didn’t go rolling under the kneelers, which was a huge relief. When he saw that, he yelled down the aisle to Cormac “Don’t worry! I still got ’em!”
Barb looked great, except she cried through the whole service, practically. Cormac just smiled and smiled. He didn’t give a shit. He’s in love. It makes me sigh like an old lady the way he’s in love. My sweet, smart-alecky, gigantic cousin.
Stephanie, my little dressing-room friend, had makeup on and her hair all done up in twists and curls. Beautiful, but I liked it better when her face looked more like who she was, not so grown up, and not so touched-up. More of a candid, less of a formal, portrait. She introduced me to her very pregnant mother, who thanked me for looking after her daughter at such a tricky moment. She commented that as they get older you have to rely more and more on them being able to find pockets of kindness in the world. She pointed to her stomach, all swollen and heavy, and said, “This is as easy as it gets.”
Alicia clung to Mike the whole time like one of those birds that rides on the back of a hippo. But once, during the reception, I saw her in the bathroom, and I caught her pinching the back of her hand. And I said, “I do that.” And she said, “For goodness’ sake, WHY?” which is about the longest sentence I’ve heard from her. So I told her I don’t know, it just distracts me from feeling like my head’s going to explode or something. She laughed and the sound was just like when she was crying, like a little silver bell in a rich person’s house, only happy.
Tug saw my mother sitting alone at her table, and he asked me if I thought it would be okay if he asked her to dance. I told him, Lay it on, Pudding Man. He gave me his little grin as he got up, and said not to call him that.
Heidi didn’t have any plans for New Year’s, so at the last minute I had invited her to come to the reception after dinner. She wouldn’t even consider it. Then she showed up! Wearing a candy pink satin mini-dress with enough spangles and sparkles to blind you! Apparently she had been forced to wear it as a bridesmaid years ago. It was so awful and so completely unlike her, it was great. I swear, half the guys at the reception (and one or two of the women) couldn’t take their eyes off her. Officer Dougie looked completely smitten.
Uncle Charlie swaggered around, grinning like a madman and thumping people a little too hard on the back with those giant paws of his. Just before midnight, when everyone was loose and giggly, Aunt Brigid brought out a curling old p
hoto, the one she’s been blackmailing him with since they were young. They’d had a deal for forty years that she could give it to Cormac on his wedding day. It showed Uncle Charlie standing in a hospital waiting room, cradling his newborn son in his arms, sobbing. His face was all twisted up and his mouth hung a little open and his cheeks were shiny with tears. Raw emotion. True love. The smirk Cormac always wears around his father went away, and he said, “I hope that’s me someday, Pop.” Uncle Charlie just nodded. I think he couldn’t speak, for once.
After her dance with Tug, Mum came over and saw me looking at the picture. “Have you seen this?” I asked. “I took it,” she told me. When I said how amazing it was, she got teary and patted my cheek. A parent’s love is the most desperate thing on this earth. She and I both know that.
At midnight everyone kissed and hugged and wished each other every happiness in the new year. Took about half an hour. Aunt Jude got ahold of me and clutched me up against all those necklaces of hers, and said, “I couldn’t love you any more if you belonged to me.” I told her I do belong to her. It’s the truth.
THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY, JANIE and Aunt Jude and the kids went to church at Our Lady’s. Janie invited Tug to come, too, as he shoveled pancakes to the kids in the syrupy smell of her kitchen. She wondered if he were still uncomfortable about Jake. “You could see for yourself,” she said.
“I don’t need to,” he said. “But I’ll come.”
As Father Jake processed down the aisle that morning, Janie noticed that his hair was shorter. And he had new shoes, the leather kind, not the black sport shoes he’d always worn. It was the Feast of the Epiphany, when the three wise men brought gifts to the Holy Family. La Befana, thought Janie, her thoughts flitting to her mother, now happily home in Italy. Maybe this year the old woman will have the sense to tag along.
