A few days later, Mae took the streetcar downtown. She went to every department store and browsed their furniture, imagining the pieces she liked the best in the house on Alexander Avenue. The following week Mae returned to the house and sat in the same spot in the living room. She imagined all her sorority sisters there with her, sitting on the couch Mae had seen at Selber Brothers and on the settee and chairs she had seen at Rubenstein’s. She imagined them chatting as they balanced plates of canapés and cups of tea on their knees or set them on the sweet occasional tables she had seen in the window of a furniture store on Market Street.
Mae imagined that after she graduated—or sooner if she decided to get a job downtown instead of returning to Centenary after summer break—she could hostess luncheons for the Junior Service League ladies. Miriam’s mother was an officer, and Miriam planned to join the league as soon as she graduated. Mae was certain Miriam would write her a letter of recommendation, even if she didn’t finish school.
The house was humble compared to the mansions on Highland Avenue, but Mae knew she could make it as quaint and elegant as a country cottage. She wrote page after page in her diary about the house and the furniture she’d picked out. She wrote about the diamond ring Jax had given her too. The diamond was a fine stone and a full carat in weight. So said a jeweler when Mae took it to one of the shops downtown. She went ahead and had the ring sized—what was the harm? After that, whenever Mae walked to the house on Alexander Avenue, when she went inside and closed the door behind her, she took off Buster’s ring and put Jax’s on in its place. Over and over, she wondered what kind of man bought a house and a diamond ring then said, think about it. And what kind of a man disappeared for weeks afterward instead of pressing her for an answer?
Mae’s dreams about living in the house wrapped around her like the warming weather until she believed she would move in and begin decorating as soon as the semester ended. When she remembered the house came with Jax, she felt her face pinch the same way it had when she was a child and her mother gave her a spoonful of cod liver oil. “Ew, it’s nasty!” Mae had cried with her thumb and forefinger clamping her nostrils closed.
Her mother had only smiled and said, “Oh, honey, it’s not as bad as all that, and it’s over anyway. Now, go outside and play.”
Chapter Forty
During the weeks in which Jax did not see Mae at all, he was anxious every minute and drank bottle after bottle of Pepto-Bismol to sooth his raging gut. One day, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, Jax stopped at the house on Alexander Avenue instead of just driving by. He parked, got out, and walked around to the backyard. He inspected the lawn, which he had hired a man to mow and trim every week. The neighbor from across the street, who was always outside working in her flower beds, came around the side of the house, still holding her pruning shears in her gloved hand.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Morning,” said Jax.
The woman removed her glove and extended her hand. “Ada Tidwell,” she said.
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Tidwell,” Jax said and shook her hand.
“This house has been sold,” Mrs. Tidwell said.
“So I heard.”
“There’s a young woman comes and goes here pretty often. She has a key.”
“Have you spoken with her?” Jax asked.
“No sir. She’s in and out too fast. Is she moving in?”
“She hasn’t said,” Jax replied.
“Well, what’s her name?”
“Mrs. Addington,” Jax said. “Mrs. Jackson Addington.”
Jax expected Mae to make her choice as soon as the school term ended, so the last week of the semester, he finally confided to his dear mother that he had asked a girl to marry him. “Well, who is she?” his mother asked.
“It’s a surprise.”
“A surprise? Oh, honey, don’t be ridiculous. Bring her to supper.”
“I will. Just as soon as she says yes. If she says yes, that is.”
“At least tell me her name. Do we know her family?”
“Patience, Mama, patience. I can tell you that she’s beautiful and sweet and smart.”
“Well for heaven’s sake! I want to meet her.”
Jax dared not drop any hints about who the girl was. His mother saw Mae at church every Sunday and undoubtedly knew she was engaged to be married. “She wants to get married in the State House in Baton Rouge,” Jax said.
“Oh Jaxy, that would be lovely!”
“Don’t say anything to Daddy yet.”
“Why not?”
“What if she says no? I don’t want to tell anybody—except you—until she says yes. Then, believe me, I’ll shout it from the housetops.”
“Your father can make arrangements for the State House.”
“Not yet, Mama! I mean it, not a word.” Jax’s stomach rolled, and he belched. “Excuse me, Mama, but you have to promise. Not one word.”
She patted Jax’s hand. “Don’t get in a tizzy, honey. I promise. Not one word.”
On the first Monday in June, Jax went to the dry cleaners. He knew Mae would be there because every Monday afternoon since he had proposed, Jax had parked up the street and watched her walk from the campus to her uncle’s business.
“Jackson!” Bill Cole said when Jax walked through the door. “It’s good to see you, son.”
“Likewise, Mr. Cole.” Jax removed his new fedora and said, “Hello, Miss Mae.”
“It’s been ages, Jax,” Mae said.
“Yes ma’am. Seems like forever.”
“Well, you’re just in time to take me out for a Coca-Cola. These examinations are murder. I sure could use a break.”
“It’ll be my pleasure,” said Jax. He opened the car door for Mae, and they drove to the market up the street in awkward silence. He parked and went inside, while Mae waited in the car. He bought her a cold bottle of Coke and put a soda straw in it, the way she liked it.
“Let’s drive out to Lake Bistineau,” Mae said when Jax returned to the car. “I want to see that juke joint again.”
Twenty minutes later, Jax wheeled the Sixteen into the packed dirt clearing beside the juke joint. He cut the engine and set the brake and willed his churning stomach to settle down. He should have taken a swig of Pepto while he was in the market, but he had been too focused on Mae to think about it.
“Will you bring me here if I marry you?” Mae asked.
Jax gripped the steering wheel. “Yes ma’am,” he said. “And anywhere else you want to go.”
“Then I guess I better marry you.”
“You mean it? You’re saying yes?” Jax looked down at Buster’s ring. “Do you still have the ring I gave you?”
“Of course, silly.”
“Okay . . . well . . . that’s good.” Jax resisted an impulse to thank Mae. He reached around her shoulder and hugged her awkwardly. His mouth was too sour to kiss her, and he hoped she wouldn’t think it was strange that he didn’t. “Well, heck,” Jax said. “I guess we have some planning to do. My father can help us get the State House in Baton Rouge, and?”
“Oh, no,” Mae said. “We can’t go to the State House. We have to elope.”
“But when we were in Baton Rouge, you said you wanted to get married in the State House.”
“Yes, but that was—anyway, now I want to elope. And you can’t tell anybody ahead of time either.”
“Sneak off to Baton Rouge?”
“No, silly. To Hot Springs.”
Jax was confused, but he was not about to let the logistics dampen his jubilation. He could roll with the punches. “Hot Springs it is. Is this weekend too soon?”
“Let’s go up Wednesday,” she said, “and get it done.”
For a second, Jax’s mind played a trick, and he thought Mae said, “. . . and get it over with.” But she hadn’t said that at all.
On the drive back to Shreveport, Jax told Mae he wanted Hollister to stand up for him.
“That’s fine, but I hope
he doesn’t bring Rita.”
“I’ll tell him Rita’s not invited. Would you like to ask Miriam, or somebody else? Maybe your friend from back home? We could fly over to Texas and pick her up.”
Mae was quiet. She stared out the side window.
“Mae?”
“No. I guess not,” she said, finally.
Jax dropped Mae off at the dry cleaners. Then he found Hollister and told him the news.
“Congratulations, my man,” Hollister said with genuine enthusiasm.
“Will you come with us? Stand up for me?”
“Wouldn’t miss it. Mae doesn’t mind?”
“No, but she doesn’t want Rita to come.”
Hollister lit a cigarette. He had recently taken up smoking, a habit that surprised Jax because Hollister had always said tobacco dragged a man down. “Don’t worry about Rita,” he said.
“Why not?”
Hollister drew deeply and the ember of his cigarette flared, as if it would burst into flame. He blew the smoke sideways. “Because she’s gone.”
Before Jax telegraphed the Arlington Hotel to reserve the bridal suite and a room for Hollister, he sent a message to Red Malone that he was getting married at the county courthouse on Wednesday afternoon. Jax wanted to make sure the gangster met his beautiful new bride.
Chapter Forty-One
Mae sat on the concrete steps of the front porch of the house on Alexandria Avenue with her book satchel beside her. It was a mild and sunny Tuesday, the eve of her wedding day, and she had that very morning successfully completed her freshman year of college. Tomorrow morning, she would put her satchel away for the summer, if not forever.
The lawn was emerald green and recently clipped, and the cannas had unfurled in the shaded flower beds along the front of the house. Mae watched the neighbor who lived across the street, a woman of middle age, prune her rose bushes. The woman hadn’t noticed her yet.
Mae unbuckled the satchel and took out a pen and her stationery, her good stationery with her name embossed in gold leaf across the top. Mae had carried the stationery and a stamped envelope addressed to Buster around in her satchel ever since she decided to say yes to Jax. Now she could no longer put it off. A letter had to be mailed.
The neighbor looked up and saw Mae. She waved and removed her gloves, laying them on the ground with her shears. Mae wished she had gone inside to write her letter, but it was too late now to escape gracefully. Then the neighbor’s telephone rang, and she hurried into the house to answer it. Mae stopped twirling her pen and laid the nib to the paper.
Dearest Buster,
By the time you read this I’ll have eloped with a man from Shreveport. I can’t explain how this happened, except to say I probably never was the girl everybody thought I was. I hope you can forgive me someday.
I’m sorry.
Mae
Mae slipped Buster’s mother’s ring from her finger, folded the letter around it, and put it in the envelope, taking care for the corners. She licked the flap to seal it. She took Jax’s diamond ring from her pocketbook and put it on her finger. Then she got up, brushed the back of her skirt, and walked down the street to put her letter in the campus mailbox.
Chapter Forty-Two
Early Wednesday morning, Jax picked Mae up at the campus. He found her sitting on a bench with her valise beside her. She wore a green skirt and floral blouse that he had not seen before, and she was crying. She did not give him a chance to get out of the car and carry her valise or even open the door for her. She dropped the bag in the backseat, opened the door herself, and got in.
“Mae, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
She waved her handkerchief dismissively. “Every girl cries on her wedding day,” she said. “I have to call my mother after the ceremony. I’ll call collect.”
“Okay.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Hollister whispered to Jax as they were pulling the big Cessna out of the hangar.
“She says it’s nothing, just wedding day jitters.”
Mae cried in the backseat of the Cessna all the way to Hot Springs and in the backseat of the Arlington Hotel limousine all the way to the courthouse. She and Jax rode together in the back of the limousine, huddled against their respective doors, and Hollister rode in front with the driver.
The justice of the peace pulled Jax aside and echoed Mae’s claim that girls cry on their wedding day. “There’s more bawlin’ and squallin’ in here ever’ week than you can shake a stick at, believe you me,” he said. The JP’s secretary, who was witnessing the marriage along with Hollister, put her arm around Mae and told her to be brave, that she was starting a new life and everything would be fine.
Mae managed to sob her way through a vow to love, honor, and obey Jackson Carthage Addington, and Jax vowed to love, honor, and cherish Mae Pearl Compton.
“Do you have a ring?” asked the JP.
Jax fished a gold band from his shirt pocket and put it on Mae’s finger, next to the big diamond engagement ring, and the JP pronounced them man and wife. He said Jax could kiss the bride, but Jax only got in a peck before Mae turned her head and asked if she could use a telephone to make a collect call to her mother.
“You can use the justice’s office right in here, honey,” said the secretary, leading Mae by the hand. “It’s real private.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Mae said and disappeared behind a door with frosted glass.
“I’ll wait outside,” Hollister said.
“I’ll come with you,” Jax said quickly. As soon as they walked outside, Jax spotted Red Malone in the parking lot, leaning against the limousine.
“So you went through with it,” Red called. “Your goose is cooked now, lad.”
Jax and Hollister went to him, and Red hugged Jax. Then he nodded toward Hollister and said, “Who’s this?”
“He’s with me,” said Jax. “My best man.”
Hollister stuck out his hand. “Hollister Caine.”
Red shook Hollister’s hand. “Red Malone. Glad to know you, Hollister. The missus is having a reception for the bride and groom at our house. Nothing fancy, but we want to celebrate with you and—say, where’s the bride?”
“Calling her mother. She’ll be out in a minute.”
“Wedding day’s rough on a girl.”
“Rough on everybody,” Jax said. They stood around for half an hour, with Jax checking his wristwatch every minute or so. Finally, he went back inside and asked the secretary if Mae was still on the telephone.
“Yes sir. Be patient. You have her for the rest of your lives, but right now she needs her mama.”
Jax waited in the courthouse lobby until Mae finally came out of the office, red-eyed and shiny-faced. She was still pretty, even after crying all day, and Jax crooked his arm. Mae smiled weakly and put her hand through it. Jax stopped before opening the courthouse door and said, “A fella I do business with is outside. His wife is putting on a reception for us at their house. Is that okay?”
“Who are they?”
“His name is Red Malone. He’s a businessman here in town. I get the medical supplies I told you about from him.”
“That’s awfully nice of them, but I need to fix my face. Go get my valise and bring it to me.”
“You look fine.”
“No. I look awful. Go on now. I’m going to the ladies’ room. Give the valise to Mrs. Davis.”
“Who’s that?”
“The secretary, silly. Now go. Shoo.”
Jax felt a weight lift. Worry had been lying across his shoulders like a yoke all morning. Even though all his efforts to win Mae had come to fruition—they were married!—Jax did not feel as if he had won her at all until this very minute, when Mae spoke to him as a wife speaks to her husband. He suddenly felt buoyant. He hurried to get Mae’s valise and tell Red they would take the limousine to his house as soon as Mae fixed her face.
“You remember where the house is,” Red said. “Pratt Street, a block south of Olive.”
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“I remember. We’ll be along directly.”
“I’ll ride with you, Red,” Hollister said. “If you don’t mind.”
“Good idea,” said Red and Jax at the same time.
“Wow,” Mae said when the limousine stopped in front of the Malone house. Cars were parked in the yard and up and down the street. “Looks like a lot of people are here.”
“Shall I wait for you, sir?” asked the driver.
“We’ll be a while,” Jax said. “Can we telephone the hotel when we’re ready to leave?”
“Certainly, sir. I’ll take the luggage. It’ll be waiting for you in your rooms. And on behalf of the Arlington Hotel, congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Addington.”
Mae and Jax heard voices as soon as they got out of the limousine. Jax led the way up the steps to the deep front porch, which was overhung by a gallery on the second story. He knocked several times but no one answered, so he tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. The door opened to an empty parlor.
“Everybody must be out back,” he said.
“Maybe we shouldn’t go through the house,” Mae said.
“Yeah. You’re right. Let’s walk around the outside.”
“Ho! The man and wife!” shouted Red as soon as Jax and Mae came around the side of the house. Everyone cheered as if they had known the bride and groom all their lives. As if they had been rooting for them all along. Mrs. Malone immediately whisked Mae away to the food-laden tables and the women congregating there. “Don’t worry, she’s in good hands,” Red said as Jax watched them go. “C’mon and have a pint. You gotta long night ahead of you.”
Several casks stood on sawhorses under a spreading live oak, and Red drew a pint of Guinness from one and shoved it into Jax’s hand, sloshing the ecru froth all over Jax’s new wingtip brogues. “No worries today, Jaxy. Have ‘em shined at the hotel on me. Come. Eat.”
Jax shook the foam from his hand and followed Red to the tables, not because he was hungry, but because Mae was there. He sipped the thick, creamy ale, then drank deeply, feeling the Guinness coat his stomach better than Pepto-Bismol ever had.
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