Janine catches me just before I slide under the surface when she yells, “Don’t wet your hair. We won’t have time to dry it.” A few minutes later, she’s banging on the door. “What’s taking you so long in there, Millie? We’ve got a wedding to attend!”
“Where do you want me, my queen?” I tease, tying a thick cotton robe at my waist and following Janine’s pointed finger to a seat. Before I scoot into the chair, she’s already at work, painting my nails, powdering my nose, and raving about how I’ll “knock Bump’s socks off.” I let her have her fun.
I’m blowing my nail polish dry when three light taps hit the door. It opens. Diana enters. My breath catches. Since sneaking my suitcase out of her house in March, I haven’t seen Diana at all. Not once. Now that she’s here, I’m not sure how to react. There is so much that needs to be said before I leave Iti Taloa. So many loose ends that need to be tied. I stay in my chair and let Janine fasten fake pearl clip-ons to my ears. “Come on in,” I say, the sounds falling heavy on my tongue.
Diana hesitates. I fear she’s here to criticize. To tell me what she has ranted about to Camille many times: “Millie’s way too young to be doing this.” Or “Bump’s parents are nothing but tenant farmers. He’ll never be able to provide for her.”
It’s easy for Diana to judge. While she didn’t come from old family money, I’m betting she had other options besides marriage. College. Travel. But for girls like me, the choices are few. I can catch up with my first love, River, and live on the road with the gypsies or head to Colorado and launch a ranch with Bump. If Diana’s here to question my decision, I don’t need her to make me doubt myself even more than I already do.
I love Bump. But the choice wasn’t easy, and I regret not giving River the kindness he deserved. It was unfair for me to send him on his way with no explanation at all. I wish I could see him one more time, so I could give him a proper good-bye. Tell him I’m sorry. Let him know I care and that I never meant to hurt him. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel as if I’m hurting River by letting Bump place a ring on my hand. I try to convince myself River doesn’t care. That he left without looking back. But somewhere deep, I know it isn’t true.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I tell Diana, hoping to ease the rift between us. My voice quavers even though I try to sound upbeat. Janine snaps the case of rouge shut and drops her makeup brushes back into a cotton bag. I turn to the mirror and sneak a peek. “Wow! I hardly recognize myself.”
“Gorgeous,” Janine says, leaning into view of the mirror. Then she jumps back and pulls up the white lace dress she’s letting me borrow. Only Janine would keep a wedding dress in her closet “just in case.” She wiggles the hanger as if to ask, “You like it?”
“Oh, Janine,” I gasp. “It’s beautiful.”
Janine smiles proudly as she removes the delicate gown from its hanger and motions for me to follow. I move behind a screen to step into the dress. Its long sleeves are unlined floral lace. The rest has a silk white lining and hangs loosely to my ankles, like something for a queen. Nothing like anything I’ve ever worn.
Diana perches stiffly on a stool, and I can’t help but feel sorry for her. She’s completely out of her element here in the world of cowboys and roughnecks. As Janine finishes zipping me up, Diana serves her a practiced smile. “You’ve been kind to provide help this morning.” Her tone stretches a tad too high to be sincere, as if Janine is just another of her domestic servants, like Mabel.
“Where’s Mabel?” I ask, surprised she hasn’t shown up yet to wish me well.
“She still had thirty sets of silverware to polish, not to mention preparing the food.” Of course. When Janine told me Diana had offered to help with the reception, I should have known it would be Mabel doing all the work. And polished silver? So much for a casual outdoor event.
“Somebody helping her?” I worry. The last thing I want to do is cause Mabel any trouble.
Diana’s face tightens as if I have no right to question the way she handles her help. “I’m sure she’ll manage. You’ll see her at the reception.” In her pristine day suit, her brand-new Carlisle heels, and her designer clutch shipped up from New Orleans, Diana turns to Janine and says, “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I have a few things I need to discuss with Millie.” Diana moves her glance from Janine to the door and back again.
“It’s okay,” I tell Janine. “You don’t have to leave.” It’s not only that I don’t want Diana treating Janine as if she’s a low-class nobody; it’s also that I’m afraid to be alone with Diana. Afraid of what she might know and of what she might say.
But Diana stares at Janine until she breaks. “I should go … check on the preacher,” Janine says, making up an excuse and tugging her skirt into place before closing the door behind her.
I know Diana well enough to guess she’s thinking Janine’s dress is a little too tight for good taste, but she doesn’t say this. Instead, she clears her throat and begins. “I hope you understand why Bill Miller won’t be attending today.” She still calls her husband by his first and last name, a habit she’s formed to remind everyone that she married into the family who founded our town. “It’s difficult for him to leave the bank on Fridays.”
“Yes, ma’am. I understand.” She doesn’t need to know I purposely scheduled the wedding on a Friday morning for that very reason. I stretch my fingers and try to begin a conversation we’ve needed to have for weeks. “Diana, I want you to know …” She looks away, as if she’s still not ready for this. I continue anyway, knowing it’s now or never. “I had no idea Mama had been engaged before she married Jack. She never once mentioned Bill Miller.” It’s the first time I’ve said his name out loud since the incident six weeks ago. The words leave a sting.
Diana waits for more.
“I would never have moved in with your family if I had known. I wouldn’t have put you in that position.”
“I know,” Diana says, pulling the brown plaid curtain so she can look out the window. Her voice is almost a whisper. “Things didn’t turn out exactly as we hoped they would, did they?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Millie.” Diana turns to look at me again, but I drop my chin before her eyes can catch hold of mine. “None of it is your fault.”
The way she says this makes me wonder if she’s figured everything out. Does she know what her husband did to me? Does she realize why I ran away from her house without saying good-bye? Does she know why I’ve spent six weeks living in a barn and doing everything in my power to avoid Bill Miller?
Diana puts her hands on my shoulders and I feel no anger from her, only affection. Slowly, she turns me to the mirror and begins to pin my veil in place. It’s a tender gesture, one that helps my resentment fade away. I tremble when she puts her hands in my hair, remembering the love I felt from her when she sat on the edge of my hospital bed, told me the story of Pandora, and offered me hope. “You look beautiful, Millie.”
Inside, I struggle with a storm of emotions. I know I should tell Bump the truth about Bill Miller, but what would he do if he knew? Things could get out of hand. Diana could find out. That would likely affect Camille. The thing is, as much as I love Bump, as much as I don’t like hiding this from him, I also care about Diana and Camille, and I don’t want anything to hurt them. I will focus only on that. The rest, I will try to forget.
Diana smoothes the layers of tulle with the tips of her fingers. Then she puts her arm around me, as a mother might, and I let her hold me.
Just as I start to say “Thank you,” Janine pops her head back into the rooms and squeaks, “It’s time.” She enters with Camille skipping behind.
“Ooh, I love it!” Camille says, flipping the veil with her hands.
“Maybe you can wear it someday.” I lean low so Camille can get a better look at the pearly trim.
“Not a chance,” she says, moving her ha
nds to her hips in a stubborn stance. “I’m never getting married.”
Janine laughs. “In that case, you’d better go save your seat, Mrs. Miller. This may be the only time you’ll see Camille walk the aisle.”
Camille waves her mother out toward the other guests saying, “Yep. That’s the truth!” As soon as Diana leaves, a big exhale fills the room and everyone relaxes again.
“You look so pretty,” Camille raves. “Just like Hedy Lamarr.”
I laugh at her comparing me to the most beautiful actress in Hollywood. “Only thanks to Janine. She’s spent a good hour working her magic.” I give Janine a hug. “I honestly don’t know how to thank you.”
“You just did, sweetie.” Then she makes her way out the door saying, “Camille’s right. You do look gorgeous. So don’t touch anything. Don’t sit down. And don’t you dare mess with your hair.”
Camille closes the door behind Janine, spins back in my direction, and sighs as she lets all her weight fall against the door. “Finally, I get you to myself!”
I fumble through my bag to find a simple square package tied in a blue bow. Then I offer the gift to Camille.
“For me?” Camille acts the part, full of drama, and takes two happy leaps to reach me. She removes the paper lid and examines a crown of clovers tucked in cotton.
“I made it just for you, the way my mother taught me.”
“What is it?” Camille touches the delicate white blooms with care.
“When I was a little girl, I could be having the worst day ever, and all I’d have to do is put on my crown. Suddenly I’d become the most powerful princess on the planet.”
I pull the circle of stems from the box and arrange it atop Camille’s blonde curls. “Now, anytime you feel weak, I want you to remember this crown. I want it to remind you that you are very, very smart, and absolutely beautiful.”
“I am?” Camille asks.
“You bet you are. But that’s not all.”
Camille looks at me and a tiny tear drops from the corner of her eye.
“You’re also brave and strong. But you know what’s even more important than all of that?”
Camille shakes her head.
“You are loved. Loved bunches and bunches! And no one can ever take that away. You understand?”
Camille turns to look in the mirror. She stands in her expensive dress with her clover crown, I in Janine’s long white gown and veil. “I don’t want you to go,” Camille says.
And this is what finally breaks me. Tears track the margins of my face, and I fight to hold back sobs. After years of watching trains and gypsies come and go, longing and praying for someone to take me with them into the free, I’m now undone at the thought of leaving Iti Taloa.
“I’ll write. And you’ll visit.” I roll my fingers through Camille’s soft curls. “We’ll come back soon. I promise.”
“From what I hear, it doesn’t really work that way.” Camille wipes a tear from her cheek.
“You read too many magazines.” I kiss the top of her head, and we both struggle not to cry too hard. That’s when Janine peeks back in and shouts, “Patience is spreading thin out here.” Then she notices my tear-streaked makeup and sighs. “Millie! You can’t cry!” She rushes through a frenzied touch-up, and I’m back to perfect in no time.
I smile at Camille, who has also dried her tears. “You ready?”
Camille looks in the mirror and straightens her crown. “I was born ready,” she says, leading me out the door to meet my groom.
Chapter 3
Camille walks in front of me down the aisle of straw. She bounces each step, so full of spunk hardly anyone notices I’m walking behind her. I’m grateful all eyes are on her. With each peppy hop, she drops yellow wildflower petals. Most of the blooms catch the wind like sails, and their delicate dance brings me back to my childhood, when I roamed the forests in search of every yellow bud I could find. I was certain the bright blossoms were gifts sent directly from God, proof that I was never alone.
Now I follow the golden trail to Bump, standing proud and handsome in his sturdy gray suit. His light-almond hair, usually tucked beneath his cowboy hat, snatches sunlight, like God Himself has chosen this man for me. When Bump’s eyes meet mine, my nervousness subsides. I straighten my spine, pull my shoulders back, and move beneath the boughs of the shagbark hickory, past rows of smiling friends and family members, directly to Bump’s side.
As I turn to face the preacher, a wisp of wind twists my veil. Bump reaches gently to fix it. Mabel sings, “I Was Made to Love You,” and all thoughts of Bill Miller fly away. Before I know it, I am swallowing all doubt and saying “I do.”
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” the preacher says. “You may kiss the bride.”
Bump offers me a respectful kiss. Then he whispers, “The real one comes later.” His uneven grin stretches high to the left, and I know I have made the right choice.
We turn toward our guests, the first time as a married couple. I take my time to notice each person who has joined us here under this shade tree. Mr. Tucker, Janine, Camille, Mabel, and every member of the expansive Anderson clan all looking at us with open acceptance. Even Diana gives me a smile.
Camille passes out dandelions, and Janine instructs everyone to “Make a wish for the happy couple.” Then she shouts, “Blow!” We smile under the sun, surrounded by a beautiful band of floating, feathery seeds. Each tiny plume skirts across the horizon representing a wish for Bump and me to succeed, a reminder that plenty of people will love us even if we fail.
By noon, the heat is building. The rodeo boys are barbecuing, and several members of Bump’s family have pulled out a stash of guitars, banjos, and fiddles. Like folks from the Delta often do, they have somehow managed to scramble together a decent band. Mabel joins in, entertaining the crowd with her astounding vocals, and Camille is dancing up a storm.
Bump pulls me to the patch of straw-covered grass we are calling the dance floor. “Play somethin’ special,” he tells the band.
The crowd circles around the two of us, and everyone claps as the musicians launch into “Dearly Beloved.” Camille passes out cardboard fans to help everyone cope with the heat, while Mabel sings with enthusiasm, dancing and smiling through every perfect note.
Dearly beloved, how clearly I see
Somewhere in heaven you were fashioned for me
Angel eyes knew you, angel voices led me to you
Bump’s skin smells of leather and hay and of all things real and comforting. I close my eyes and try to pretend no one is watching, that it’s just Bump and me.
When the song is done, I don’t want to let go of my husband. I want to continue holding my hands against the muscular rows of his back and leaning my nose into the tight curves of his neck, but Mr. Tucker surprises me by cutting in for the next dance. I nervously follow his lead and look back at Bump as the band shifts into “As Time Goes By.”
Bump follows suit by choosing his mother. He stands a head and a half taller than her, but he bends down to let her kiss him on the cheek. I can’t take my eyes off him, the way he treats his mother with such kindness, moving slowly and cautiously with her, tilting her back just enough to let her drift in delight.
“Mr. Tucker,” I begin, talking near his ear so he can hear me above the music. “We’re both really honored you chose us to run your ranch. You’ve done too much.”
“Aw, shucks, Millie. I ain’t done much.” Mr. Tucker nods at the guests, who watch us dance. He’s never one to shrink from a spotlight, and I laugh at him putting on a show. He sends me into a spin before I can remind him how much he’s done. Putting Bump through vet school, letting him do a year of training here with the rodeo, and now choosing Bump to launch a ranch in the Rockies. He convinced Bump to take the job by saying, “You’re as ready as you’ll ever be.” Just like that, Bump was set on a new course, a
nd now, I am too.
Mr. Tucker even bought Bump’s parents a tractor, plus all the implements they’ll need to help them finally purchase land of their own. According to our arrangement, we have three years to turn a profit. If all goes well, we’ll develop a top breeding line of stock horses and a quality supply of beef cattle, Bump’s family will keep the expensive farm equipment, and Mr. Tucker will help Bump establish a veterinary practice at any location of our choosing.
If we fail, we will be responsible for repaying the costs of the farm equipment, and we’ll be grateful to keep any job Mr. Tucker assigns us. That’s if Mr. Tucker can remain in business if the ranch goes under.
When the song ends, Bump’s mother switches partners. As her husband, the tall, quiet leader of the Anderson tribe, takes her hand, Bump pulls Janine to the floor, and she cheers to be chosen. As soon as she’s in Bump’s arms, she calls for other couples to join the fun, and before I know it, the entire area is packed with twosomes, young and old, dancing along to a lively swing tune. Mr. Tucker stays right with me.
By the end of the first stanza, Bump cuts in. “’Bout time you figure out who your partner really is ’round here, Mr. Tucker.” Bump passes Janine to our boss and takes my hand before either can protest.
At first, Mr. Tucker and Janine stand there, awkwardly looking at each other as if they don’t quite know what to do. Then Mr. Tucker extends his arm and Janine looks at me for advice. I wrinkle my brow as if to say, “What are you waiting for?” She gets the message and moves in to dance with the man she loves. Before the end of the song, they are so close I couldn’t slip a sheet of paper between them if I tried. Four songs later, they are still hip to hip, and Janine is beaming.
Within an hour, Bump has danced with all of his young, giggly nieces, and I’ve been spun dizzy by every rough-cut cowboy on the lot. Mabel takes a break from singing and spreads a bright smile across her face. When she holds her soft arms open wide, I rush in for a hug.
When Mountains Move Page 2
