Fiddler's Green, Or a Wedding, a Ball, and the Singular Adventures of Sundry Moss

by Van Reid

  But Sundry had a strange and fleeting consciousness of the dark interior of Pearce Eddy’s waterfront flophouse, a vision that welled up from the center of his bright view, carrying with it equal degrees of gratitude and regret. He was at a loss to describe even to himself how that recent experience warred with the present moment, but Mister Walton expressed it for him and also spelled the darker haunt away by saying simply, “We are blessed.”

  Sundry would think about it later. “On to the next thing,” he said.

  “Gentlemen,” said Mister Walton when he entered the parlor. He who had always carried his portly frame with unconscious savoir-faire appeared to the members of the club as dapper as they had ever seen him, and they were moved to spontaneous applause. Mister Walton blushed and bowed, and Sundry heard his bespectacled friend say, in a quiet, if delighted, voice, “I see Mr. Deltwire received his invitation.”

  Sundry had forgotten the drummer, or perhaps had merely accepted the stranger’s presence in the house. It was a tradition in the Moss family that an uninvited guest brings good fortune, so it is not strange that Sundry was disposed to let the man in the checkered suit stay, even if Felton P. Deltwire looked a bit like the palace guard, standing to attention by the door with the Queen of the Carpet Sweepers gripped in one hand.

  “So glad you could come,” said the groom, the statement sincere and punctuated with a hearty handshake.

  “It’s very nice of you,” said Felton P. Deltwire, as if he had received a formal letter of invitation.

  Mister Walton met Mrs. Seacost with an embrace. “Mr. Ephram,” he then said, and shook hands with that worthy fellow. Speaking the names of Mr. Eagleton and Mr. Thump, he did the same. The gentlemen of the club were visibly moved, and they hemmed and blinked as their chairman went on to speak to Stuart Nowell and Jared McCannon. The room was filled with greeting, and charter members joined in as if they themselves had only just arrived.

  “Expected sunny afternoon,” said Eagleton to Mr. Nowell, “though more clouds by evening and possible rain, clearing once again by morning.”

  “High tide at 1:48,” Thump informed Jared McCannon.

  “It’s four minutes before two o’clock,” said Ephram.

  “Well,” said Thump, “that was eight minutes ago then, wasn’t it. Good heavens! The next high tide at 1:16,” he corrected, “A.M.”

  Jared McCannon looked interested, though surprised. He had met the Moosepath League in the summer of the previous year but had perhaps wondered, in the meantime, if he had imagined it.

  The Baffins came into the parlor; she stationed herself at the organ, and he stood beside her. Mister Walton insisted that the pretty Spark girls join them, and they demurely sat by the front windows and gathered appreciative (and all very proper) glances from the men in the room. Sundry feared that Mister Walton would insist on going into the kitchen in search of Horace McQuinn and Maven Flyce, whereby the groom would be apprised of the keg and the cop therein; but the groom was yet dizzy with the moment, and his memory was not so complete.

  Ephram was consulting one of the three or four watches that he carried about his person, and Eagleton looked as if he’d been pinched. Thump offered to pump the organ’s foot treadles, and the instrument wheezed into life under the exquisite notes of “If My Songs Had Wings.”

  Reverend Seacost, who had been talking quietly with Mr. Nowell, took his place beside Mister Walton and said in a low tone, “The moment of truth is at hand.” Mischievously he said to Sundry, “Prop him up.”

  They stood by the hearth and awaited the coming revelation. Sundry thought he might have to “prop him up” as Mister Walton faltered a little. The groom was shaking slightly, and Sundry had a flash of that terrible moment, not a week ago, when his friend had fallen headfirst in a sudden faint.

  “Are you all right?” asked Sundry under his breath.

  Mister Walton took a breath, then appeared calm again. Fingering one of his cuff links, he said, “I have hardly been better.”

  “Watch closely everything that happens next, young man,” said Mr. Seacost with continued good humor. “Our friend may ask you what occurred when all is done.”

  “I promise,” said Sundry.

  And anyone with a low degree of tolerance for what the skeptical world might consider “immoderate sentiment” herewith has permission to forgo the ensuing chapter. The Moosepath League offers no apologies.

  9. The Wedding

  “My word!” said Mister Walton. “Which way are they coming in?” There were two doors to the parlor—one from the dining room and the other from the hall—and he did not know by which door his bride would enter. “We never spoke about it,” he said.

  Sundry saw a flash of white in the hall and made a gesture in that direction. Mr. Thump tromped the organ treadle with admirable energy, and the instrument sounded like church itself. When the song was done, Mrs. Baffin startled the bearded Moosepathian by touching his hand affectionately. Then she nodded to him, Thump recommenced his labors, and she began to play Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March.”

  Miriam Nowell entered the parlor, wearing a beautiful sky blue dress and a spray of white flowers in her dark hair. One eyebrow lifted when she saw Mister Walton—a shot across the bow, so to speak, and a friendly warning of what was to come. The portly fellow gave a small chuckle, and Miriam, pleased with herself, took her place opposite Sundry.

  The bride’s brother then came into view; Jared McCannon was tall and good-looking and appropriately serious. There was a white sleeve on his arm, and then Mister Walton saw the white dress attached to the sleeve and the very vision within the dress that he had so anticipated yet could hardly have imagined. Phileda McCannon had tears in her eyes and a smile on her lips that looked as if it might at any moment turn into happy laughter. There was something wry in the way her glasses were perched upon her nose. Then a visible pleasure touched her as she saw her beau and, perhaps as important, what effect seeing her had upon him.

  Nearly of a height with Mister Walton, but slender, she had designed her white dress with as little bustle and furbelow as she could reasonably do without. The lines of her shoulders were strong and elegant, and her high collar accented a graceful neck. In the pattern of her dress there was almost the hint of an Empire waist, which had been in vogue a hundred years before and to which her slim carriage was very much suited.

  On her breast shone a brooch of silver and pearl, and Mister Walton recognized this piece of jewelry as one that his father had given to his mother on the occasion of their marriage. Again, he fingered one of his father’s cuff links and felt that sense of extended grace as delivered to him by people gone before. The dress, the bride, his mother’s brooch, and the moment all seemed timeless, and Mister Walton felt the hair at the back of his neck lifting with glad anticipation.

  There would be no formal giving away. Phileda, with some humor, had declared the phrase “scandalous” (but “many a serious word,” as someone had already said that day). Jared was content to kiss his sister’s cheek when he had escorted her to Mister Walton’s side, then find a place to stand beside the other guests.

  Mister Walton was as still as if he were observing some natural phenomenon (an exquisite natural phenomenon) that might evaporate were he to take a single breath. The music had stopped, but he did not know when. Their eyes met—his in wonder and hers with that same mixture of tears and mischief—and she took his hand suddenly in a fierce grip.

  Sundry watched life pour into his bespectacled friend. The groom’s expression of wonder slowly melted into a soft smile, and his eyes filled with their own kind of gentle disposition. Mister Walton took a long-delayed and much-needed breath. Mr. Seacost gave them this moment—there in the parlor, with the sunlight coming through the open windows, and also the sea breeze and the song of birds from among the trees. The old minister even bowed his head. Sundry looked away.

  “We gather together to unite in the holy estate of matrimony these two people,” said Mr. Seacost
, “in the name of God the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.” Then he prayed, asking for God’s love to move among them and to bless them all with peace and harmony.

  “Amen,” said bride and groom with the minister. Sundry’s lips moved in accordance, and the gathering joined in with a collective and whispered “Amen.”

  “Dearly beloved,” continued the minister, “forasmuch as marriage is a holy estate, ordained of God, and to be held in honor by all, it becometh those who enter therein to weigh, with reverent minds, what the Word of God teacheth concerning it. And our Lord Jesus Christ said: ‘Have you not read that He who made them from the beginning made them male and female,’ and said, ‘For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh? So they are no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let no man put asunder.’”

  Mister Walton’s eyes were closed; Miss McCannon watched him, and he raised his head and looked up when Mr. Seacost next spoke.

  “Tobias Elisha Walton, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, keep only unto her, so long as you both shall live?”

  Over a sudden frog in his throat, Mister Walton said, “I will.”

  “Phileda Katherine McCannon, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honor and keep him in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, keep only unto him, so long as you both shall live?”

  Miss McCannon’s blue eyes grew wide, almost as if she hadn’t expected such a question. Then she said, “Oh, I will.” Her eyes were brimming.

  Mr. Thump stood and read in his deep tones the pertinent verses from Colossians 3:12–15, calling for kindness, forbearance, charity, and peace.

  Mr. Seacost then spoke in meditation, calling upon the images of time and tide and climate to exemplify nature as experienced in the course of a life and the conduct of a marriage. Certain members of the gathering were moved by these metaphors, and Mister Walton and Miss McCannon smiled through them. Another prayer was offered, another “Amen” chorused through the room, and Mr. Seacost said, “I would enjoin you to take each other’s hands—if you had ever let go of them,” and there was a murmur of laughter. “Toby, if you would repeat after me: I, Tobias Elisha Walton...”

  Vows very much like those they had already voiced were repeated, but to each other. Mister Walton very seriously captured his bride’s eyes and spoke the solemn promise without hesitation.

  “I, Phileda Katherine McCannon ...” Mr. Seacost continued.

  Miss McCannon, for all her aplomb, found herself tongue-tied, and she tripped on a word or two and had particular trouble when asked to say, “and thereto I plight thee my troth.” The breeze from the windows tugged at a stray lock of hair, which tress was then the very center of Mister Walton’s world and attention.

  Sundry was asked to produce the ring for the bride, and Mister Walton slipped the simple gold band on Miss McCannon’s slender finger, saying, “Receive this ring as a token of wedded love and troth.”

  Then Miriam Nowell offered the groom’s ring, and Phileda worked this with a little more trouble over Mister Walton’s ring finger, saying in turn, “Receive this ring as a token of wedded love and troth.”

  Said Mr. Seacost, “O God, who art our dwelling place in all generations: Look with favor upon the homes of our land; enfold husband and wife, parent and child in the bonds of thy pure love; and so bless our homes, that they may be a shelter for the defenseless, a bulwark for the tempted, a resting place for the weary, and a foretaste of our eternal home in thee; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

  “Forasmuch as Tobias Elisha Walton and Phileda Katherine McCannon have consented together in holy wedlock, and have declared the same before God and man, I pronounce them husband and wife: in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

  “What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.”

  Mr. Seacost said very softly, “Toby,” and to Mrs. Walton, “My dear,” then more loudly to Mister Walton, “You may kiss the bride.”

  Again Mister Walton’s eyes were closed, and the new Mrs. Walton’s spilled with tears, and when they had kissed, simply and gently, he opened his eyes and she reached up and very slightly adjusted his tie.

  10. The First Shot of a Distant Conflict

  “My goodness’ sakes!” said Eagleton. “Wouldn’t you say, Ephram?”

  “I was indeed going to,” said Ephram with no hint of vexation that his words had been presupposed. He was, in fact, delighted to be of such close mind with his friend and rather thought it a compliment to himself that they were.

  “Wouldn’t you say, Thump?” said Eagleton.

  “Hmmm?” said Thump.

  Hearty congratulations to the newly married couple had been offered all the way around, and the gathering soon wandered into the dining room for a modest reception served up by the Spark girls. The wedding cake, Mrs. Spark’s grand creation, presided over the table, and Annabelle and Minerva were laden with many compliments to carry to their mother, along with a few to keep themselves, for they were really very handsome young women.

  Though occupying the center of everyone’s interest, the bride and groom were blissfully unaware of even their own side of various conversations, and sometimes their answers were at odds with whatever subject was at hand. Mister Walton said, and very happily, “Do you think so?” when Thump spoke of the hour in which to expect the coming high tide, and the chairman would never have willingly caused his bearded friend such resultant confusion.

  “Mr. Moss!” came a portentous Hsst! of a whisper in Sundry’s ear. Annabelle Spark stood just behind him and looked ready to pluck his sleeve when he turned about. “The policeman is getting anxious.”

  “Is he?” said Sundry, with very little thought in the words. He exchanged a look with Mrs. Baffin but managed a small smile. She appeared to accept that he had a plan and turned back to the bride and groom. But the day had not been conducive to scheming against the unforeseen. Sundry had been bent on enjoying himself despite the situation at the back of the house. Annabelle waited in the pantry, looking anxious, her wide eyes questioning Sundry as he strode past.

  “Ah! There you are,” said Officer Rye. He looked as if he’d been pacing all the while. Horace still leaned with his elbow on the cupboard. Maven Flyce’s astonished expression had hardly shifted. “I told you he’d be on his way,” said Horace.

  Sundry was startled. A second policeman was in the kitchen now.

  “Mr. Moss,” said Calvin Drum sharply.

  “Officer Drum.”

  “This is awkward,” said Officer Drum. “I don’t like to trouble a man at his wedding, but Sergeant Frith sent me back to see what was keeping Cuthbert.”

  “I am amazed!” said Maven.

  Annabelle and Minerva had pressed their faces past the kitchen door, and in a moment they stepped in to make way for the Baffins.

  “We’ll need to see the owner of the house,” said Officer Rye.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have get Mister Walton,” said Officer Drum.

  “Mister Walton doesn’t know a thing about it, I promise you,” said Sundry, “and as I took care of the preparations, this must be my doing, however accidental.”

  The Spark girls gasped, and the voices of Lucinda and Cedric Baffin were heard to take the blame upon themselves. “I’m sure Mr. Moss didn’t know a thing about it!” said Annabelle, looking sweet in her distress.

  “I still should speak to your employer,” said Officer Rye, looking unconvinced by Sundry’s short speech.

  “I wish you wouldn’t.” Sundry stepped toward the door, as if to block the policeman’s way. The door then bumped him in the back of the
head.

  Excusing himself, Mister Walton came into the kitchen. “What’s happening?” he asked. “Sundry? What’s the trouble?”

  “Nothing at all,” said Sundry, though the presence of the policemen and the expression on everyone’s face certainly put the lie to his words.

  “No?” said Mister Walton, with perhaps the tone of a parent who is one statement away from demanding the truth. “Officer Drum,” he said, “and Officer—”

  “Mister Walton,” said Officer Drum.

  “Congratulations to you, sir,” said Officer Rye. “I am sorry to interrupt your wedding day with police business, but I was sent by Sergeant Frith on the strength of an informant.”

  “Police business? Informant?”

  “Toby?” The door opened again, and the recently installed woman of the house stood at the threshold, surveying the puzzled and anxious faces. “Toby? What’s the matter?”

  “I’m not sure, my dear. Sundry?”

  “It’s the keg, here in your kitchen,” answered the policeman as he backed away from the object.

  The short barrel did look guilty, and Mister Walton let out a small gasp as he approached it. “Now, what do you suppose—” He looked across the kitchen at Horace McQuinn, with whom he had some history regarding the conveyance of illegal spirits.

  “I don’t suppose at all, sir,” the policeman was saying. He had perhaps reached the end of his patience. “Now, someone is going down to the station with me, or everyone, is.”

  The situation grew only more awkward, and in more ways than one, when Ephram, Eagleton, and Thump came into the kitchen. “What is it? What is it?” said one of them. “Good heavens!” said another when they saw the policemen. “Hmmm!” said a third. Room began to sound like a mistaken nomenclature for the space they subsequently occupied. In addition, the person of Mr. Thump, who had rescued Officer Drum’s wellbeing only a week or so ago, only made that policeman’s duty the more unpleasant.