Every Girl Gets Confused

by Janice Thompson

  “You don’t know the half of it, Katie. Ginger Harris has offered to loan me all of the tablecloths she bought for her daughter’s wedding. And Ophelia here is making my cake—each of the four tiers a different flavor.”

  Ophelia looked up from her chicken finger basket. “White with strawberry filling. Chocolate with caramel filling. Italian cream cake and . . . what’s the fourth one again, Queenie?”

  “Lemon raspberry.”

  “Yes. Lemon raspberry.” Ophelia took another bite of chicken and a look of satisfaction came over her. “Though I personally don’t think as many people will eat the lemon.”

  “I heard you were making the cake, Ophelia,” I said. “I’ve been wondering how you planned to transport it to the church.”

  “Oh, I’m bringing it in layers. Bessie May is swinging by to pick me up in her SUV. I believe we’ll have enough space for all four tiers. I just hope it’s enough cake for all of the guests we’re expecting. This is going to be the shindig of the year.”

  “The year?” Queenie laughed. “The decade is more like it.”

  “True. Anyone who’s anyone’ll be there,” Bessie May interjected. “The invitations just went out a few days ago and we’ve already had more than 80 percent of the potential guests RSVP.”

  “You’re well loved for sure, Queenie.” Lori-Lou fished around in her purse for lipstick.

  “But don’t you worry about how I’ll put the cake together, Katie,” Ophelia said. “I’ll assemble it at the church and then add the trim work. And if it looks like the crowd is growing, I’ll add a fifth tier. I’ll make it a marbled cake. Folks love that.”

  “She’s really a wonder, Katie,” my grandmother said. “You’d be surprised at how gifted some of us golden-years ladies are.”

  “Oh, not surprised by that at all,” I said. “I hope to be half the woman you are when I’m your age.”

  “Not much chance of that if you keep swallowing down those chicken strips.” Bessie May pursed her lips. “But what were we talking about?”

  “Talking about how well loved I am,” Queenie said. “Katie’s brothers are going to help set up the tables in the reception hall, and her father is giving me away.”

  “I’m sure he feels so honored to be able to do that,” I said.

  “Maybe. From what your mother told me a while back, he’s put on so much weight from their cruises that he barely fits into his suit anymore.”

  “Oh, I can get him fitted with a tuxedo.” I scribbled that down on my paper so I wouldn’t forget. “No problem.”

  “Your father in a tuxedo? That’ll be the day. Anyway, everything’s coming together and I couldn’t be happier.” She released a contented sigh. “I really mean that. I don’t recall being happier in my entire life.”

  “I’m so glad, Queenie.”

  She leaned forward and gave me a compassionate look. “I want the same for you, honey-bun. I want you to marry Brady and let us lavish you with blessings too.”

  “Oh, I . . . well . . .”

  “I know, I know. But he’s going to propose soon.”

  “That’s what we all said about Casey too, remember?” I caught a glimpse of my ex out of the corner of my eye, still laughing and talking with Joni, who had apparently forgotten the reason she’d come to Dairy Queen in the first place.

  “Yes, well . . .” With a wave of her hand Queenie dismissed that idea. “I never thought the two of you were much of a match.”

  I lowered my voice to keep from being overheard. “You could have mentioned that at any time during the many years we were dating.”

  “Would it have done any good? You were blinded by love.” Queenie’s nose wrinkled. “Or you were blinded by the idea of being in love. It doesn’t hurt your feelings if I say it like that, does it, Katie?”

  I shrugged. “I think I really loved Casey. He’s a great guy. Just not the guy.”

  “And now you’ve found the guy?” Bessie May gave me a curious look. “That football fella? The one with the broken arm?”

  “Basketball,” Alva said. “Knee.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been having trouble with my knee all week,” Ophelia said. “But it has nothing to do with basketball.”

  I sighed. “Just keep praying for Brady, Queenie. He’s in so much pain with his knee. I know you know what that’s like. But I think there’s a lot going on in his head that he’s not sharing with me.”

  “He’s disappointed that he’s unable to go back to playing basketball, you mean.”

  “I guess. A couple of months back he seemed reconciled to the idea, so I’m kind of confused that it’s suddenly bugging him so much again. But it is.”

  “He can always go back to football,” Bessie May said. “Though I never understood why those fellas felt the need to run around the field in those tight pants. Just seems so . . . girlie. Patting one another on the fannies and such.” She fanned herself with her napkin. “Strange behaviors.”

  Joni picked that exact moment to return to our table, food in hand. “What did I miss?”

  “You don’t want to know.” Lori-Lou looked up from her phone. “But it was interesting, to say the least.”

  Moments later Casey rose from his table and walked our direction. “Great to see you ladies again.” He offered my grandmother a warm smile. “And congratulations, Queenie. I’m so happy for you. We all are.”

  “Why, thank you, Casey. That means a lot.”

  “You still working in Tulsa, Casey?” Ophelia licked the chicken finger crumbs from her fingers.

  “Yes. For now, anyway. Not sure how long that’ll last, though. I might end up back in Fairfield. My father needs help on the property and I really miss everyone.” He gave me a piercing look. “Kind of feels like I left pieces of my heart back here. You know?”

  The whole table grew eerily silent as all eyes shifted to me. I cleared my throat and turned my gaze out the window.

  “Just praying about it,” Casey said. “I feel sure the Lord will let me know.”

  I couldn’t help but look his way at this point. Was he really thinking about moving back home? And what was that stuff about helping his father? This couldn’t be the same guy who’d called Fairfield a two-bit town just six months ago, could it?

  We somehow got the meeting back on track. Less than an hour later, Queenie’s shower was planned and I’d gained an entirely new perspective about Joni. In fact, I had a new perspective about a lot of things—the women who’d gathered around my grandmother, for instance. And the business owners who’d gone out of their way to lavish her with love and support.

  There was much to be said about small-town living. I’d almost forgotten.

  Not that I’d trade my life in the big city for any of it. No, I’d made up my mind. Cosmopolitan Bridal was my new home away from home, and that was where I was meant to be, at least for now.

  10

  Everywhere You Go

  Any girl can look glamorous . . . just stand there and look stupid.

  Doris Day

  When the meeting ended, Alva and I gave Queenie a lift back to her house. I carried my bagged gown inside to put into the cedar closet.

  My grandmother gave me a curious look as I walked down the hallway with it. “What’s in the bag, Katie Sue?”

  I bit back the temptation to say, “My wedding dress,” and settled for, “The dress I wore for the magazine cover shoot. I was wondering if I could put it into your cedar closet so it stays safe.”

  “Surely it won’t need to be stored away for long.” She gave me a wink. “Won’t be long before Brady James pops the question, after all.”

  “Maybe, but I’d like the dress to be safe. Things just hold up better in the cedar closet, right?”

  “Right.” Queenie still looked a bit confused.

  “I told her she could keep it at my place, but I don’t have a cedar closet.” Alva went into a discussion about the benefits of cedar closets and completely lost me. Still, I couldn’t help but notice the
sympathetic expression on her face as I carried the dress out of the room, and it raised several questions in my mind. Was I one of those people who was never meant to get married?

  We spent the rest of the evening visiting and having dinner at Sam’s. Seemed strange to eat at Sam’s without my mom and dad, but they were out to sea. Afterward Alva and I headed back to my parents’ place to spend the night. It felt kind of weird calling it “my parents’ place,” but it wasn’t my home anymore. Though it sure felt like it as I drifted off to sleep in the comfort of my own bed. Wow. Pure bliss!

  On Sunday morning we attended the early service at the Baptist church, but nothing felt right about it. Queenie was a Presbyterian now, so her spot in the pew was empty. Beau was in Dallas, and so was Dewey. That left Jasper and Crystal, but they’d both defected to the second service, which was more contemporary. Mama wasn’t leading the choir anymore now that she and Pop were out of town so much. Bessie May, God bless her, gave it the old college try, but even Alva squirmed in her seat when the choir attempted an off-key rendition of the “Hallelujah Chorus.” Yikes.

  Speaking of college, I couldn’t help but notice the college- and career-aged folks coming into the sanctuary for the second service, the contemporary one. Turned out Levi and Joni led worship for that one. In fact, the whole stage was transformed in a matter of minutes as a keyboard and several guitars filled the space where the choir had stood just moments before.

  I stuck around a few minutes to listen in and smiled when I heard one of my favorite songs coming through the PA system. Even from out in the foyer, I could tell they sounded great. To me, anyway. I’d always known Levi could sing—I mean, the guy won our tenth grade talent show at Fairfield High, after all—but Joni? Who knew she had such a rich alto voice? Their harmonies sounded remarkable. Almost like they were meant to be. Just more confirmation that the WOP-pers were right about this happy duo.

  Alva didn’t appear to enjoy the contemporary music. She stuck her fingers in her ears. “I don’t know why they have to put on a rock-and-roll show in church. It’s irreverent.”

  “It’s not rock and roll, Alva,” I explained. “It’s contemporary praise and worship and it sounds great.”

  “Well, I don’t like it.” She walked out into the parking lot, mumbling about the noise. As we got into the car, she continued carrying on about the instruments. “Back in my day we didn’t allow loud instruments in the church.”

  “Um, Alva . . . didn’t they have an organ?”

  “Of course.”

  “And didn’t the organ play loudly?”

  “I don’t remember it being loud, but it wouldn’t have mattered. The organ is God’s favorite instrument, so it’s a moot point.”

  This certainly got my attention. “Oh?”

  “Yes, and I can prove it in the Scriptures. Look it up.”

  “I’ll do that as soon as I get back home.”

  “Yes, look it up. It’s in the Old Testament four times. God loves the rich sound of a pipe organ as it pushes out the melody of ‘In the Garden.’ It’s in Deuteronomy. Second chapter.”

  “But Aunt Alva, the pipe organ wasn’t invented until . . . Oh, never mind.” No point in getting her riled up.

  Thinking about pipe organs reminded me that I’d promised Queenie we’d stop by the Presbyterian church to say goodbye before leaving town. We were just in time for their second service, so in we went for round two of Sunday in Fairfield. Well, round three if you counted the five minutes of listening to Levi and Joni sing.

  The Presbyterian service was quite a bit different than the Baptist. For one thing, the pastor—my grandfather-to-be—wore a long black robe with a collar. The service kicked off with an organ prelude. A loud organ prelude. I put my fingers in my ears and did my best not to groan at the pain it caused.

  “See there, Katie Sue?” Alva nudged me with her elbow when it ended. “God’s smiling down on this service. I have it on good authority he’s a fan of the organ. Deuteronomy chapter four.”

  “Ah.” Either the chapters were changing or the Bible had a lot to say about pipe organs.

  I was so busy examining the inside of the sanctuary that I almost got lost in the experience. I’d been in here a couple of times before, but never on a Sunday morning. The grand arches and white wainscoting were breathtaking, especially with the sun shining through the brilliant colors in the stained-glass windows.

  An elderly fellow led us in a responsive reading and we sang a hymn. Alva nodded and smiled, then leaned over and said, “A beautiful hymn. Just what we should be singing in church, Katie Sue.”

  I had to admit it was lovely. But again I was distracted, this time staring at Casey Lawson, who’d entered late and took a seat with his parents.

  We all recited the Apostles’ Creed, sang another hymn, and watched as the children went forward for a kid-friendly sermonette from the pastor. Then it was time for the announcements. Lo and behold if they didn’t announce Queenie and Reverend Bradford’s wedding just like it was an ordinary church event.

  “Join us next Sunday for a potluck, followed by homemade apple pie from Sister Susie. And don’t miss out on the upcoming nuptials of our own dear Reverend Bradford as he ties the knot with Queenie Fisher on December 12th. You’re all invited.”

  You’re all invited? No doubt Ophelia would have to add a fifth tier to that cake after all.

  Queenie turned all shades of red as they asked her to stand. She did—albeit slowly, thanks to the titanium knee—then took a seat, mumbling about how embarrassed she was.

  She wasn’t, of course. The old girl loved the attention. No doubt she would make an amazing first lady for First Presbyterian. If they didn’t mind the fact that she didn’t know all the words to the Apostles’ Creed by heart.

  Reverend Bradford took his place at the podium and began an enlightening sermon on the prodigal son, but I was a little distracted by a humming sound coming from my purse. I reached for my phone to make sure I’d turned off the ringer and happened to notice several texts coming through from Casey. I turned around to make sure he was still sitting a few pews behind me, and he was. Weird.

  I glanced at the phone, but Queenie put her hand over it as if in warning: Don’t you dare get on that telephone during service, Katie Sue! She didn’t even have to speak the words. I heard them loud and clear when her hand clamped over mine. I shoved the phone back in my purse and spent the next few minutes trying to figure out what was so important that Casey would have to text me in church.

  When the service ended, folks gathered in the foyer to visit. Many made their plans to have lunch at Sam’s or Lone Star Grill. Me? I just wanted to get out of there and get back home to Dallas.

  Home. Dallas.

  Weird but true. I somehow made it out of the church without alerting Casey, who appeared to be distracted by Reverend Bradford. Alva could barely keep up with me as I trucked across the parking lot.

  “Wait up, Katie Sue! I’m no spring chicken.” I could hear her huffing and puffing behind me as she tried to keep up. “Ooh, chicken! Let’s stop and have some lunch before we drive back. They’ve got great fried chicken at Sam’s.”

  “But we just ate there last night. Besides, the lunch crowd at Sam’s will be terrible, Alva.” I turned back to look at her. “If you really want chicken, then what about KFC?”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “I guess some people get their chicken there.”

  I had barely made it inside my car when Casey caught up with me. I reluctantly rolled the window down so as not to look rude.

  “Leaving so soon?” he asked. “I was hoping to talk you into Sam’s. My parents wanted to spend time with you.”

  His parents wanted to spend time with me? I had a feeling there was more to it than that.

  “C’mon, Katie.” Alva gave me an imploring look from the passenger seat. “I don’t get to go to Sam’s very often and it’s my favorite. I sure could use another piece of that coconut cream pie.”

  She had
me at coconut cream pie.

  Not that I could say no to Casey, who refused to budge from outside my door until I nodded. “Okay, we’ll meet you there.”

  “Awesome. See you in a bit.” He sprinted across the parking lot toward his truck. I couldn’t stop the little sigh that wriggled its way up.

  “Look on the bright side, Katie Sue. We’ll have a wonderful lunch and then I can nap all the way back to Dallas.” She pulled down the visor to block the sun.

  Yeah. Sounded dreamy.

  As we pulled out of the church parking lot, a call came through my Bluetooth. The moment I heard Brady’s voice, I felt my heart rate level out. He always had that effect on me.

  “How was church?” he asked.

  “Interesting. How was church on your end?”

  “We had a guest speaker—some guy from Missouri. Really good stuff. He talked about the seasons we go through. Timely. You can listen to the sermon online when you get back.”

  “I’d like that.” I put on my turn signal to pull out onto the main street. “I miss you, Brady.”

  “I miss you too, Katie. A lot. Have a piece of coconut cream pie for me when you go to Sam’s.”

  “Wait . . . what? How did you know we were going to Sam’s?”

  Brady laughed. “That’s funny. Anyway, have a slice for me. Talk to you later.”

  We ended the call just as I pulled my car into the parking lot of Sam’s. As I turned the key in the ignition, Alva stirred in her seat. “I just think it’s remarkable,” she said.

  “What?”

  “First that gal from San Antonio was on the radio, and now Brady. Seems like those talk show hosts wouldn’t be as interested in him now that he’s not playing ball, but there he was, on the radio for all to hear.”

  I didn’t even bother to explain. One of these days I’d clue her in about how Bluetooth worked, but not now. No, on this day I wanted to fill up on yummy food at Sam’s, then head back to Dallas. Where I belonged.

  11

  A Guy Is a Guy