The Wedding Shop

by Rachel Hauck

  “Then where’s the funeral? The fresh burial in the family plot?”

  “I said he died in Florida and was buried there. Folks are too kind to ask any more questions.”

  “Buried in Florida. Not in the Scott section of the Heart’s Bend Memorial Gardens? Where three generations of Scotts and your son are buried? You’re telling me folks are buying that?”

  “Oh, for crying out loud, Cora, what’s with the semantics? He’s not really dead, you know. Go find Birch. Tell him yes. Think about your life, your future. That’s what I’m doing.”

  “You are a rascal through and through, Mama. What do you think the kind townsfolk will do when they find out he’s alive?”

  “Praise be!” Mama raised her hands in shocked surprise. “A miracle. Ernie Scott come back from the dead.”

  “Oh my gosh, Mama, you are going to answer for this one day.”

  But when she raised her gaze to Cora’s, her lips quivered and her eyes swam with tears. “Don’t be angry with me, but Ernie’s fake death was the best out for us all. You know I’m right.”

  Cora clung to her mother, the stately, kind woman who raised her to love God and love others, who was trying her darndest to save face among the people she’d known her whole life, to walk among them with some shred of dignity.

  “I love you, Mama.”

  “Love you too, honey-darling.” Mama gave her a hard squeeze, then stepped out of Cora’s embrace, tipping her head to the field. “Go get your man.”

  Her skin flushed warm. “I’m nervous.”

  “Come on now, you ain’t getting any younger.”

  “That’s the kind of pep talk every girl likes to hear.” Cora smoothed her hand over the skirt of the new dress she’d waited to wear until today.

  “You look beautiful.” Mama touched the end of Cora’s chin. “The dress brings out the honey flecks in your eyes. Now, go show those young girls how a mature, wise, beautiful woman handles her man. Come on, where’s that pretty smile of yours? Ah, there it is. That’s my girl.” Mama raised her hand, waving to Janice Pettrey. “Look at Janice, young and in love with that boy Ricky Cantwell. Now, you go get with Birch.”

  Nervous! Cora was so very nervous as she started across the field, walking into the wind, the sun rising to its noon perch, casting a light along her path. This was her moment. Their moment.

  Raising her hand over her eyes, she spotted Birch running through the field, his shirt tossed off, the ball tucked against his ribs, laughing, his tanned arms taut with muscle.

  His hair gleamed as his bangs bounced over his forehead. He looked like one of the boys chasing him. At thirty-seven, he even looked as fit and energetic as Orie Westbrook, a former Rock Mill High football star, who’d only graduated a few years ago. He was married now to Vera, with a little baby. Jimmy.

  Orie tackled Birch, dropping him hard to the ground. He popped up laughing, tossing the ball to Fred Clemson, who seemed to be acting as referee.

  Daddy loved football so Cora listened to the radio broadcasts with him. When she agreed to listen to the first nationally broadcasted Rose Bowl game in 1927, a game between Daddy’s beloved Alabama and a California school, Stanford, his eyes misted a little.

  Cora approached the fan section, greeting everyone, cooing over baby Jimmy, waiting for Birch to notice her. He looked so vibrant and happy. His grand smile nearly tipped her heart over. How had she not seen him like this before? Seems now that she’d made her decision to marry him, her heart woke up to love.

  After a touchdown, the teams ran for the water bucket. Cora waved at Birch, hoping he’d come over her way. But he seemed caught up with his team.

  “You want some water, Cora?” Vera said. “I’ll walk over with you.”

  “How do you like being a mother?” She was young, not more than nineteen. At thirty-two, Cora felt ancient next to her.

  “It’s a lot of work.” She looked at Jimmy, who munched on a teething ring. “He’s a sweet boy but I—”

  Vera’s voice faded in Cora’s ears as a scene up ahead captured her attention. Twenty yards away, beautiful Janice Pettrey ran toward Birch, leaving that boy Ricky behind, and launched into his arms. Birch caught her up and swung her around, his face buried in her neck. Her excited scream-laugh pierced the air. Pierced Cora.

  She stopped walking. Birch? What was happening?

  “Cora?” Vera said, looking back at her. “You coming?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Cora forced her feet to comply though the vision of Janice in Birch’s arms burned into her soul.

  Had he not proposed to her? She was his girl. But Cora couldn’t keep her eyes from the intimate exchange in front of her. Birch and Janice.

  Setting Janice on her feet, Birch bent toward her, his lips touching hers, kissing her as if he’d done it a thousand times, wrapping her tight against him as her arms looped around his neck.

  No, no . . . What was going on? Panic, fear consumed Cora. The scene before her obliterated every hopeful emotion. In an instant she was back in Rufus’s kitchen, staring at his wife, her pregnant belly, and their little boy, hearing him deny his claims of love.

  What was it he called her? An imbecile. Plain and unimaginative.

  At the water bucket, Birch slapped Orie on the back, laughing, then incidentally glanced her way. When their eyes locked, his brightness went behind a cloud.

  “Cora!” He made his way to her. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

  She shook her head, unable to speak, tears starting to blind her view. Fool me once, fool me twice . . . How could she fall for the wrong man again?

  Birch caught her up in a big hug. “You’re here and I’m glad.”

  She pushed out of his arms and narrowed her gaze, quivering as she tipped her head toward Janice. Come on, Gunga Din. Rise up. “What’s going on?”

  Birch lowered his head, running his hand over the back of his neck, kicking the tall grass with his shoe. “We’ve been seeing each other, Cora.”

  “ ‘Seeing each other.’ W-what does that mean? You proposed marriage to me.” Her words boomeranged between her ribs, cutting, hurting.

  “You never gave me an answer. I waited eight months for you to say yes. Even after your mama found out I proposed and encouraged you to accept me, you never did.”

  “I was trying to be sure.”

  “No, Cora, you were trying to find a way out.”

  “I don’t want a way out. I want to marry you.”

  “I finally took your silence as a no, Cora.” Birch peeked over his shoulder to where Janice laughed and talked with the others. Though she kept a constant eye on Birch.

  “So you just took up with Janice Pettrey?”

  “We started talking at her brother’s birthday party. One you were invited to, I believe. We’ve always had a good rapport and that night hit it off. Been getting closer since Labor Day.”

  Birch stood adjacent to Cora, putting their bodies at odd, cold postures. She’d hoped to run into his arms with her answer. Instead she ran straight into a slammed door.

  “You told me to let you know when I was ready. Well, I’m ready.”

  “That was way back in the spring. I gave you a month, then five more. On Labor Day you still weren’t ready. You never made one step my way. Not one, Cora. How was I to know you’d come traipsing in here Thanksgiving Day jealous of Janice? Did you come to tell me something? ’Cause I’ve not heard hide nor hair out of you. So I moved on. I’d have waited another year for you if you’d have made one step, one step my way, Cora. But you didn’t.”

  “With Janice?” She gestured toward the young teacher, the cool whip of the November breeze in her hair. “You moved on with a girl ten years your junior? Well, w-why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Don’t be putting this on me, Cora. I put my heart on the line for you and all I got was ‘Go with me to see Rufus,’ and ‘Mama’s hurting.’ I understood. I did. Still do. But I finally realized that’s your life, not mine. I can’t stop living b
ecause you can’t make up your mind. By the way, did you know she’s telling folks your father died?”

  “Yes. She wanted to save the shame of divorce. Birch—” Cora pressed her fingers to her forehead, the tension between her eyes starting to twist. “I realize I made you wait and I’m sorry. But I also know I’m ready. I’ll marry you. I’m here to say yes. Yes. Birch, yes!” She smiled, stepping toward him. “I’ll marry you.”

  He exhaled a rare rude word, shaking his head, gazing off into the distance. “But it’s too late, Cora. I can’t marry you.”

  “W-what do you mean? I-I don’t understand.” She’d leapt and there was no net. Dear Lord . . .

  “I’m with Janice.” He refused to look at Cora. “We have a lot of laughs. Get along well. She’s ready to get married and have a family.”

  “So am I.” She pressed her hand to his side. “Birch, I’m here.” Accept me.

  “Do you love me, Cora? Because Janice does. She’s eager. She wants to be a farmer’s wife and raise a bunch of babies. Do you want any of those things?”

  She couldn’t answer. Just stood there trembling like a fading fall leaf.

  “Cora? Do you?”

  “Yes, and I’m willing—”

  “Willing?” Birch shook his head, peering at the gang by the water bucket. “At one time I thought that’d be enough. If you were willing to love me. But not now. Not since I met Janice.” He shifted a step away from her. “I free you from my proposal, Cora. I withdraw my sentiments.”

  “No, no, Birch, I don’t want to be free.”

  “But you don’t love me, do you?”

  Say it. Say you love him. Cora inhaled, long and deep, batting down a wave of tears, staring overhead, wishing the stupid sun would do its job and burn away the gray clouds.

  “As I thought. Look, I was coming to see you next week, but I might as well tell you now.” Birch shifted another step away. “I’m proposing to Janice and I wanted you to know. It don’t seem like I should tell you first, but given our situation and all, it’s only right.”

  Cora shook, careening toward a dark edge while standing stock-still, staring at the horizon. “Do you love her?”

  “We get on well. She’s energetic and pretty, handy with cooking and cleaning, sewing and like I said, ready for a family.”

  “You didn’t answer me.” Cora moved toward him. “Do you love her?”

  “Cora—” His expression sobered as he stared at her. “Janice and I talked already. We want to get married soon as we can in the new year. It’s my slow time around the farm, so we’ll have time to get to know one another.”

  “So it’s all settled then.” She drew a response from somewhere in her being. “I wish you all the best.”

  She’d waited for Rufus while Birch had waited for her, and now she was without either. Seemed love didn’t find its way easily to her. But she couldn’t blame Birch. He had waited. This was all her doing.

  “Thank you. I do appreciate it.”

  She peered at him. “I wanted to love you.”

  “Did you?” He brushed a gleam of perspiration from his brow. “After Labor Day I realized you weren’t ever going to say yes. All you ever wanted from me was more time. Janice told me she loved me after our first date. She was so infectious she was hard to resist. She felt about me the way I think you felt about Rufus. I didn’t realize how thirsty I’d become waiting for you. Love’s a powerful force, Cora. A strong, strong pull. It’s darn intoxicating when someone loves you.”

  She stared at her hands as she twisted them together, a tear splashing down on her thumb. “Then you love her back with all you have, Birch Good.”

  “You were going to marry me even though you didn’t love me?”

  She raised her chin. “Aren’t you the one who just said when someone loves you, it’s a powerful force?” Say it. Say you love him.

  “But just not strong enough for you and me, Cora. My love never turned your head. Janice’s love has turned mine.”

  “Are you happy?”

  He nodded. “I believe so.”

  “Would you have been happy with me if I’d said yes in March?”

  “Why ask the question when the answer don’t matter?”

  She pressed her hand against his arm. “I’m sorry, Birch. The best of everything to you and Janice.”

  “Thank you.” His hand slipped under hers as she pulled away. “And, uh, Cora, she’s right excited about coming to the shop. Show her kindness, if not for my sake, for hers. Her folks don’t have much money. Lost it all when the banks closed. She’s been giving them her teacher salary to make ends meet. But I’d like her to have her wedding happiness, her day at the shop.”

  “Of course. She’ll be most welcome.”

  Cora made her way toward the dinner tables, her heart tumbling between confusion and tears, as the sun cracked through the cirrus clouds, dropping gold light on the Thanksgiving feast, on Cora, and another year of her life.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  COLE

  February 22

  He walked into Linus’s office without knocking, telling his protesting admin he’d only need a minute.

  Ever since his date with Haley, she lived in his thoughts. He’d loved discovering who she was all on his own. Loved seeing her weak, vulnerable side. Loved that she was so passionate about the old wedding shop.

  His heart quickened at the idea of pursuing her. But he had to take it slow. Or she’d spook and he might not get another chance.

  “Linus, where’re our permits?” Cole leaned over Linus’s desk, causing the man to rock back in his chair.

  “Linus, I tried to stop him.”

  He raised his hand for peace. “It’s okay, Sandy. Why don’t you bring us some coffee?”

  “None for me, thanks.” Cole straightened up, giving Sandy a conciliatory smile.

  “So, Cole, what seems to be the trouble?” Linus stood, trying to meet him eye to eye. But he was too small.

  “I want the permits to do the work on the wedding shop.”

  Linus made a face. “You know I don’t have anything to do with permitting. That’s Alastair’s department. Go down the hall. Last door on the right. Think a man in your business would know that, Cole.”

  Cole chuckled, shaking his head. The man was good, no doubt. “He checks with you on everything. You’re his boss. He’s your lackey.”

  “I don’t like what you’re implying, Cole.”

  “I don’t like that the city council gave Haley the building, imposed a deadline for the renovation, then held up all the permits. Know anything about that, oh friend of Brant Jackson?”

  “You best not come in here accusing me of anything underhanded.”

  Cole sighed. “Linus, just give us the permits. She filed the first of January. We’re into the third week of February. That’s unheard of in this town. Even with your brand of red tape.”

  “What can I say? We’re a growing town.” He was a snake. A smiling rat-snake. No offense to the official rat-snake. Or snakes or rats.

  “I’m not leaving here without those permits. So let’s just get down to it. What do you want?”

  Linus sat, facing his computer, his balding head glinting in the sterile overhead light. How did he get into power in the first place?

  “You know what I want,” he said.

  “Excuse me? How would I know what you want?”

  Linus looked up at him for a long, pointed moment. “Think about it. You know what I want.”

  “No, I don’t . . .” Cole stepped back with a force of realization. “You want the . . . No, Linus. No. What kind of crazy, nut job . . . How can you do this to Haley? She’s not tied to me, or the Stratocaster. Really, this is how you run your office?”

  “The Stratocaster sure would be a nice piece to add to my music collection.”

  Cole headed for the door. “You’re not getting that guitar.” Then back to Linus’s desk with a pointed, “That’s extortion.”

  Linus rocked b
ack in his chair, poking out his lower lip, begging for a good punch. “Oh, I think it’s more like motivation, don’t you?”

  “I should go to the DA’s office.”

  “And report what? We argued over permits? Over which I have no control?”

  Cole laughed. This was unreal. “Linus, do you even have the kind of money it takes to buy that guitar?”

  Linus stood. “I could cut you a check for fifty grand this afternoon.”

  “Fifty grand? Oh no, that’s way too low. Sixty. No, seventy grand.” Cole paced, patting his middle. “I feel an increase coming on.”

  Linus bolted around his desk, hand extended. “Deal. Seventy thousand.”

  Cole stepped back, hand in the air. “Never said I was really offering.”

  “Cole, I’m saying ‘deal.’ You bring that guitar.” He moved back to his desk, yanked open the middle drawer, and took out a folder. He flashed it open, revealing the wedding shop’s permits. “And these are yours.”

  “You lying son of a—”

  “Don’t go unchristian on me, now. You had to figure sometimes this is the way business got done around here. After all, your daddy gave eight years of his life for getting caught.”

  “Yet here you are stupid enough to still do it.”

  “I ain’t undercutting suppliers and greasing palms. I’ve never taken a dime from Brant Jackson. There’s no law in holding up building permits. No law against striking a bargain with a guy about a guitar.”

  “Except when you hold up permits to get the guitar.” Cole paced the office, hands on his belt. “I can’t believe you. I always had my suspicions.”

  “I don’t care what you believe, Cole. I saw my chance to gain a little leverage on something I wanted, so I took it.”

  “This is Haley’s shop, not mine, you imbecile. Why are you punishing her because of me?”

  “Like I said, I saw some leverage.” Linus perched on the edge of his desk. “Seems to me she must be pretty special for you to be even considering selling me that guitar.”

  “I’m not considering selling you that guitar.”