by Sarah Monzon
“And how may I help you this bright and cheery morning?” She beamed.
Trying to hide my amusement, I cleared my throat and swallowed the laughter that was brimming and threatening to spill out.
“We’d like to apply for a marriage license.”
“Oh, well, isn’t that divine! Two little lovebirds. I knew it the moment I saw you walk through that door. Gladys, I said to myself, if those two aren’t in love and coming for a marriage license, then you ain’t no wiser than a screen door on a submarine, I said. Yes, sir. You done got that twinkle in your eye. So when you two plannin’ on tyin’ the knot?”
I could sense Becky fidgeting nervously beside me. When I glanced over, her cheeks were warming into a becoming shade of pink. I tried once again to hide my smile. I didn’t want her to get the impression I was enjoying her discomfort. Only, I guess I was. Not her discomfort really, but I did quite enjoy the color the blush brought to her face.
“Today,” I answered as I pulled my gaze away from Becky and back toward the clerk.
“We’re planning on marrying today.”
I didn’t think the woman’s eyes could have gotten any rounder or brighter, but I was wrong. Her red lips formed a perfect O before widening into a smile that almost had me reaching for my sunglasses.
“Oh, isn’t that romantic,” she gushed. “So in love you can’t wait another day. You hear about that all the time over in Vegas, but folks around here are so practical, it takes them months to get hitched. Well, practical ain’t romantic, I say.” Then she placed her hands over her heart and squealed. Actually squealed. I thought she might do a little happy dance right there on the spot.
For the first time since stepping foot into the building, Becky spoke, or I should say, croaked. “The papers?”
“Ah, yes. The papers.”
Turning her back to us, the clerk rummaged through a filing cabinet looking for the forms that would get us on our way and one step closer to our apparently oh-so-romantic nuptials.
“Here we go.” She placed the documents in front of us. “Fill out this application and make sure you both sign it here.” She indicated the lines by marking an X in front.
“Thank you.” I took the clipboard, and Becky and I sat down in the waiting room, hunched over the papers and huddled together. It didn’t take long to fill out the necessary questions, and then we were handing the forms back over to the grinning clerk.
Thankfully, she didn’t give us any more flowery speeches on how romantic we were, but gave us knowing looks and a conspiratorial wink when handing back a few papers.
“These need to be signed by the person performing the ceremony and two witnesses. Then all you need to do is mail them back in, and it will all be finalized.”
“Thank you so much,” I said as I cupped Becky’s elbow and steered her in the direction of the exit before we could be gushed over anymore.
***
With Becky back at the hospital with her grandfather, I made my way down the interstate toward Meadowlark. I had managed to pick up a couple of toothbrushes at a convenience store near the hospital for this morning, but there were a few things Becky needed from the house and I needed from my Jeep. All of her animals needed to be fed and watered as well. I also needed to swing by Grandview and find Becky’s mother’s ring.
I sighed. I wished there was something I could give her from myself to show her that I viewed this as a real wedding, a real marriage. That even though I’d only known her two days, I was committed to her and to this union. Most guys bought an engagement ring to signify their commitment, and I would have been more than happy to have done that, but I thought Becky would want her mother’s ring.
What can I give her, Lord?
Even though this was her idea, there was an uncertainty in her eyes every time she looked at me. It was as if she was just waiting to see how long it was going to take for me to turn tail and run.
Fast food and gas station signs loomed ahead, and I glanced down at the gauges on the dashboard of Becky’s truck. Driving across the country taught me one thing: always fill up when traveling through rural areas. The needle pointed more toward empty than full, so I put on the blinker and took the off-ramp. Sitting at the stop sign, I looked left and right, checking for oncoming traffic and a place to top off. I squinted past the Exxon sign to another with red letters. One with a heart as an apostrophe. A grin broke out across my face as I yanked the steering wheel left and pressed the gas pedal to the floor.
Visions of Becky from this morning filled my mind. I could see her in her cute but rumpled sundress that she had put on yesterday and slept in last night. I could pick up something fresh for her to wear while at her house. In fact, that was what I had planned on doing. But this was her wedding day. I couldn’t give her a big church wedding with all her friends and family and all that other stuff that girls dream, but I could at least get her a dress.
Stepping into the store, I was immediately blinded by all the yards of white fabric that hung from the displays. Were the fabrics all different? Every woman would know the difference between that gauzy see-through material and that shiny, silky material, but my head was spinning. Not only did the dresses have different fabrics, they were all in different styles too.
“Can I help you?”
Boy, did I need it. “I’m looking for a dress.”
Her lips curled up at the ends.
“A wedding dress,” I amended.
Her eyes perused me from head to toe and back again.
“For my fiancée.” Man, I guess you had to clarify in California.
“Ah, I see. And what size is your fiancée?”
Size? Oh boy. “Well, she’s about this tall.” I held my hand under my nose. “And about this big.” I held my hands slightly apart, guessing at the size of Becky’s waist.
“I see. And style?”
“Style?” I rubbed a hand over my short-cropped head.
She sighed, anchoring an impatient hand on her hip. “Was your fiancée interested in tea length or floor length? A-line, empire waist, mermaid? Tulle, satin, lace, silk?”
“Ummm…” This was going to be harder than I’d thought.
“It might be easier if your fiancée comes in and tries on a few different styles. Then she can decide what she likes and what fits her.”
Yeah. Only that wouldn’t work. I needed something today. But how…Lisa. She’d know what Becky would like.
“Can you give me just a minute while I make a phone call?”
Without waiting for a reply, I whipped my phone out of my back pocket.
“Hello?” Lisa answered.
“Hi, Lisa. It’s Luke.”
“Oh, hey, Luke. I didn’t expect to hear from you today. How’s everything going?”
“Not so good, actually.”
“Really? I was so sure Becky would love you.”
Love me? I doubted Lisa meant that the way it sounded. “It’s not Becky. It’s Mr. Sawyer. He had a minor heart attack and is in the hospital. Becky wants to have the wedding today. She’s afraid if we wait any longer, it will be too late.”
“Oh no. I had no idea.”
“Listen, Lisa, the reason I’m calling is because I’m standing in David’s Bridal. I wanted Becky to at least have a nice dress for her wedding, but I have no idea what size she is or what styles she likes. Can you help?”
“Is there a salesperson there?”
I handed the phone to the saleslady, who was pretending she hadn’t been listening but who was definitely looking at me much more tenderly than before.
“My fiancée’s best friend is on the phone and might be able to answer all those questions you asked me.”
She accepted the phone and without a by-your-leave walked off with my cell toward a rack of wedding gowns near the back.
I found a seat by the dressing rooms and waited, but not nearly as long as I’d expected. Soon the saleslady was back, a white garment bag draped across her arms.
I ju
mped to my feet. “Can I see it?”
“Tsk, tsk. The groom is not to see the wedding dress before the ceremony.”
And so I dished out more money on one dress that I’d never seen than I would have spent on clothes for myself in a two-year period. And yet, despite my sticker shock, it would be worth it. I couldn’t wait to see Becky’s face when I gave it to her.
Or how she’d look in it.
17
Rebekah
“HOW COUD YOU do that to me?”
“Now don’t scold a dying man, Rebekah Anne.”
“You’re no more dying than I am.” Oh, how I wished that were true, but the evidence lay before me in that hospital bed. At least he was looking better and no longer required the use of an oxygen mask.
“Come here, sugar.” Poppy patted an empty spot on the bed next to him. “Tell me about your fella.”
I propped my hip on the mattress and took Poppy’s hand in mine.
“What would you like to know?” I asked, trying to keep the trepidation out of my voice. I had no intention of telling Poppy a bold-faced lie, but I also didn’t plan on telling him the complete truth. I was walking a fine line, which was why I’d hoped this conversation wouldn’t take place.
“Where did you two meet?”
“Lisa introduced us a while back.” As in, two weeks ago. Over the phone. Being vague was not lying.
“When did you know you were in love with him?”
I swallowed hard. Love? This would be a tricky one to answer. “Does anyone ever know the exact moment they fall in love?” Answering a question with a question seemed the safest bet.
“How did he propose?”
Finally, a question I could answer for real. I smiled. Even though Luke had just proposed yesterday, with all the events that took place since then, it felt like forever ago. When I’d first asked Lisa to find me an “Isaac,” I thought having someone propose to me was something else I was giving up. But I was wrong.
“Well, he took me to a restaurant”—no reason to tell him it was the diner—“and in front of everyone”—about five people— “got down on one knee and asked me to marry him.”
I caught Poppy staring at me, and the pressure on my hand increased.
“Are you happy, sweetheart? You sure this is what you want to do? You and James just broke up not that long ago.”
I tried not to blink. Or twitch. Tried not to gulp down the saliva that was gathering in my mouth, or wipe away the sweat beginning to form on my palms. Nothing that would give me away. How could I tell him I wasn’t sure? That I had only met Luke the day before, and even though I felt God’s guidance, there was still a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach? That my chest felt like it was in an ever-tightening vise, and I couldn’t take a full breath? That I was scared spit-less, but I was doing it all because of him? For him.
I could never say any of that, so I plastered on what I hoped was a believable smile and a lovesick expression.
“I’m sure.”
***
Poppy was once more resting, and I had just finished talking with the doctor as he was doing his rounds. He told me they were going to keep Poppy one more day for observation, but it looked like he was doing better. He assured me there wasn’t anything they could do for him there at the hospital that they couldn’t do for him back at Grandview.
As I was thanking the doctor, I noticed Rita strolling down the hallway toward me, a big grin stretched on her face. She held a stark white garment bag reverently in her hands. The bag was so long that Rita risked tripping on the edge that was trailing the ground.
“What are you doing here? What do you have?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me. She was still in her scrubs and appeared to have come straight from work at the nursing home.
“It your wedding dress.” She stretched out the garment bag for me to take.
My wedding dress? Like an out-of-body experience, my arms reached out and took the bag. How did Rita have money to bring me a wedding dress? Was it a family dress? Wait. How did Rita know I was getting married today?
Moisture gathered in the corner of my eye, and I blinked it back. The kindness Rita was showing me, especially since we’d been friends for only a short amount of time, humbled me. My throat tightened with emotion. I had resigned myself to the fact that my wedding would not have even a hint of anything traditional. No white dress, no bouquet of wedding flowers, no wedding cake to cut and feed to my groom, no first dance. Rita had changed that. I would be able to wear a gown and at least look like a real bride.
I realized I had been staring at the gift in my arms and had not yet expressed my deepest gratitude. Lifting my head, I looked Rita in the eyes and opened my mouth to try to articulate how much this meant to me.
“It from Mr. Luke,” she said before any sound passed my lips. “He ask me give to you.”
“Luke?” I struggled to wrap my mind around that thought. “Luke asked you to give this to me?”
“Yes.” She said the word on a sigh, and I could tell she was halfway in love with my groom already.
“He say he get chaplain and to meet in Mr. Sawyer room in veinte minutos.” Shaking her head, she clarified, “Twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?” I yelped.
“I help.” She slung off her backpack and withdrew two bags. One looked like a makeup case, and the other held a brush and some pins and other hair accessories.
***
Luke
Standing in Mr. Sawyer’s hospital room, I chatted with the chaplain. Some of my married friends told me about how nervous they were as they stood at the front of the church and waited for their brides to walk through the door and down the aisle, but I didn’t have a single butterfly in my stomach. All I felt was peace and anticipation—as if I had just won a great prize in a raffle I hadn’t even realized I’d entered.
I tried to give the chaplain my full attention as he droned on and on about the theology of marriage starting at creation with Adam and Eve. Normally I would have thought the conversation stimulating, but there were other things on my mind. I kept checking the door, waiting for the first glimpse of Becky.
I wasn’t disappointed.
When the door began to open, a hush fell in the room, and every eye turned. Rita came in first, her smile stretching from ear to ear. A rustling of fabric, a flash of white, and a picture of bridal perfection graced our presence. I had no idea if the dress was A-frame, dynasty, or whatever other style the saleslady said. All I knew was the dress was nice, but the woman wearing it took my breath away.
***
Rebekah
I felt like a princess. I had been astounded that Luke would know my size and pick out such a beautiful gown. The bodice, with its built-in corset, hugged my body, while the skirt, with its many yards of material, flowed out from my hips in a bell shape. Rita had curled my hair into loose ringlets and attached a single flower to the side of my head. She’d thrust a bouquet of flowers into my hand, telling me that they too were from Luke. Looking in the bathroom mirror, my breath caught. I was a bride, and I was about to get married!
My pulse raced as Rita opened the door. Would Luke like what he saw? In my attempt to keep my hands from shaking, I might have squeezed the stems of the bouquet a little hard. Would he think I was pretty in his beautiful gift?
Taking a steadying breath, I stepped through the door after Rita. My gaze shifted nervously between the three men and one nurse who occupied the room besides Rita and me. Like a magnet, my focus was drawn to Luke. Everyone else faded. My groom stood tall and proud. The broad shoulders that I was sure had carried their fair share of people out of burning buildings cut a fine figure in his white buttoned-up shirt. Perhaps those shoulders would carry me through my own emotional emergency. His gaze never wavered, and his eyes darkened. My breath caught at the intensity of his gaze. Instead of shuttering his manly desire and admiration, he was completely open, as if he wanted me to see what he was thinking.
In place of the wedding march, I walked toward my groom to the cadence of the beep, beep, beep of the monitor registering Poppy’s heartbeat. It was the best sound in the world. Better than a string quartet any day. The sound meant the man who raised me was still living and breathing.
“You look absolutely beautiful Rebekah Anne.” Poppy’s words stole my attention from Luke, and I turned to face my grandfather. Moisture had formed in his eyes. His hand was shaking as he held it out to me. “You look just like your mama.”
Pressing a kiss to Poppy’s saggy cheek, I blinked rapidly against the threat of tears. No use ruining all of Rita’s hard work by having my mascara run.
As we began the ceremony, the sound of my own heartbeat and the beeping of the monitors were all I could hear, even though I could see the lips of the hospital chaplain moving. Luke reached out and grasped my shoulder. He let his fingertips trail down the length of my arm in a featherlight touch before clasping my hand and bringing it up waist high.
“I, Luke Masterson, take you, Rebekah Sawyer, to be my wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, from this day forward until death do us part.”
From his other hand, he produced a ring and began to slip it on my finger. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the circle of white gold as it slowly descended down my finger toward my knuckle. My mother’s ring. I remembered sitting on Poppy’s lap as a child, and he’d let me try the ring on. He’d tell me all about my parents and how, someday, when I met the man God had chosen for me, it would be mine. I hadn’t seen that ring in I didn’t know how many years. I wasn’t even sure where Poppy had kept it. But there it was. Perched on my finger. I didn’t bother trying to stem the tears this time. I let them flow freely as I looked first at Poppy and then at Luke, mouthing thank you to them both for this gift.
