“Get ahold of yourself, Ray,” Sis blurts out. “If Hilda were here she’d tell you to come down off of your high horse and focus on Katie Rae.”
“My high horse,” Ray says. She sticks a twig of popcorn vine in her hair and rolls her eyes. Then she busies herself readjusting the poinsettias at the altar and picking out any stray or unsightly leaf. “Now if Hilda had the nerve to say that to me, I’d say, ‘Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?’”
“Oh, all right,” Kitty B. says, walking up the stairs and patting Ray on the shoulder. “If you’re so upset about it, then why don’t you just go in the conference room and offer to do the flowers.” Kitty B. turns Ray around and points her toward the door.
“You two are awfully feisty today,” she says to them. “What’s gotten into you?”
Just then Marshall and Roscoe Bennington walk in.
“Look at the well-oiled Jasper machine in motion, Daddy,” Marshall says.
“You were right about them,” Roscoe says, looking up at his tall, thin son.
Then he looks at the gals and says, “This place has never looked better, ladies, and I mean that. Y’all are something else!”
Sis nudges Ray forward as if to say, “Here’s your chance, high horse.”
Thank heavens the stalwart composure that Ray’s perfected over the years kicks into gear as if by default, and she straightens up and smiles. “Why, thank you, Pastor Bennington. I’m so glad y’all are pleased with it.”
Then Sis watches Ray point to where the video camera sits on a tripod as she says, “Do you think I could put some greenery on top of the, uh, camera?”
After the gals deck the halls, they race home to change and get right back for the rehearsal. Sis directs the music, and she’s hired dear old Mr. Corley from the Charleston Symphony to play the trumpet, and of course LeMar is the soloist. He commissioned a composer at the College of Charleston to set an Archibald Rutledge poem to music. It’s titled “Love’s Meeting,” and Sis can’t wait for everyone to hear it. She rented an electric organ from the Charleston Music House, and it doesn’t sound half bad. The gals are all counting on the music and the flowers to be the two focal points of the ceremony.
LeMar sounds glorious singing the sweet love poem. He’s got a little glint in his eye, and Sis thinks he looks healthy and strong for the first time in years. He’s on top of the world as he puffs up his chest and brings the words of the bygone South Carolina poet laureate to life. Then Mr. Corley bursts into his solo for the wedding march, and before the bride is halfway down the aisle, Sis hears a thud behind her.
She turns to find Mr. Corley on the floor next to the organ. He’s tugging at the top of his left arm with his right hand.
The wedding party looks back to see what all of the commotion is about, and Sis screams, “Help! The trumpeter’s collapsed!”
Roscoe and Marshall run up the aisle and over to Mr. Corley. Marshall starts administering CPR as Roscoe prays and speaks in some kind of foreign language. Sis calls 9-1-1 on her cell phone.
The whole room holds its breath as they hear the sirens coming toward the building. Sis recalls Mr. Corley mentioning that he was going to have a stent put in the week after the wedding. This was the last event he could commit to before the procedure.
The paramedics race in and pick Mr. Corley up and carry him out on a stretcher as Katie Rae paces back and forth and rings her hands and says, “Oh my. I hope he’s okay. This is terrible.”
Sis watches Kitty B. walk over to comfort her daughter. “I think he’ll be okay,” she says.
“Me too,” says Marshall as he runs back over to Katie Rae and pulls her toward him.
“He’s conscious,” Marshall says to them both. “He’s in good hands now.”
The rehearsal and the dinner are solemn affairs. Roscoe leads the wedding party in a group prayer for Mr. Corley, and then there is nothing left to do but walk the wedding party through the ceremony. The crowd shuffles toward the conference hall for the rehearsal dinner, and no one seems to bat an eye at the imitation flowers or the personalized M&M’s.
Sis feels Ray’s firm arm on her elbow as she walks toward the conference room. “What are we going to do about the music?” Ray says. Kitty B. grabs her other elbow and says, “I don’t know.”
Now Giuseppe is on their heels. He taps Sis’s shoulder and says, “My Uncle Salvatore is teaching a master class at the Brooklyn School of Music right now. He’s been looking for an excuse to get back down here. How about if I call him? He might be able to catch the nine p.m. flight out of La Guardia.”
Ray whispers to Sis, “That’s not a bad idea.”
“Would you?” Kitty B. turns to Giuseppe to say. Then she adds in a hushed tone, “I think my husband will out-and-out flip if we don’t have a trumpet. He thought the music would really make the ceremony.”
“Fine by me,” Sis says.
Ten minutes later, Giuseppe returns and says, “Salvatore will be here by midmorning. He says he can rehearse with you tomorrow afternoon, Sis.”
“Great,” Sis says. “Tell him to meet me at All Saints at eight a.m.” By the end of the crab cake appetizer Sis gets word that Mr. Corley is stable. He’s going to spend the night in the hospital and get his stent put in tomorrow.
“Meanwhile,” Roscoe says, “a trumpeter is en route from New York to fill his place, and it is time to honor the engaged couple.”
Then Roscoe and Shawna give a slide show with sentimental music of Marshall growing up, and there is not a dry eye in the house. There are photos of him in church and with his wide array of pets including a ferret, a cottonmouth snake, and an iguana. When he was in high school, he volunteered at the animal shelter, and there is a photo of him rescuing three cats and four dogs that were stranded during Hurricane Hugo. The shots end with a few of him and Katie Rae at the Serpentarium feeding the alligators and conducting a show with the snakes. Sis swears she’s never been so smitten by reptiles in her life.
Then Cricket gets up to give the cutest toast. They are not drinking champagne, just iced tea and a little sparkling grape juice with the dessert. These nondenominational folk have more rules than Sis would ever have guessed. Anyway, Cricket recites a poem about her sister, the animal lover, and how she always knew God had someone in store for her.
Sis wishes that Hilda were here to see it all. Of course, Trudi and Angus are sitting in the far corner conversing with Mayor Whaley and his wife, and that probably would have ruined her for another year. How in the world are they going to get her over this heartbreak?
Ray and Cousin Willy leave before the dessert. Sis knows they want to get home early to see if Priscilla calls. As for Kitty B., well she seems different somehow. In a good way. Stronger, and Sis wonders what’s changed. Maybe it’s the wedding or the hormones leveling off. Maybe it’s the fact that she signed up for those dog training classes in Charleston, and LeMar gave her his blessing to take them. She took her poodle, Rhetta, two times last week.
“I had a ball,” she told Sis when they were making wreaths a few days ago. “I just ran Rhetta round and round that room on a leash, and the instructor said, ‘You’re in fine form for a pair of beginners.’”
TWENTY-TWO
Ray
Now it’s two hours before Katie Rae’s wedding, and Ray’s setting up the snacks for the groomsmen and bridesmaids in their separate rooms. Kitty B. made her famous California tarts, and Ray made some pimento cheese as well as ham, pepper, and onion finger sandwiches for them to munch on. And they brought ginger ale for those who might come down with a queasy stomach.
“Have you heard from Priscilla?” Sis calls on her way toward the organ.
“Not yet,” Ray says. “I’m expecting her to show up any time now.”
Ray can’t believe she hasn’t heard from her daughter. She’s called her cell phone eight times with no response. Priscilla and Donovan were supposed to be on the flight from Baltimore this morning, and when Cousin Willy and Justin went to C
harleston to pick them up, they were nowhere to be found. Ray is sure there must be some odd little glitch. Perhaps they overslept or they missed their flight, but you’d think she’d have the decency to call and let them know.
The guests are filing in and to Ray’s surprise everyone seems nice and well-dressed. She knows there are over two hundred of Roscoe’s parishioners who are invited to the wedding, and she half expected them to show up in shackets and stiff baseball caps, but these people are dressed quite well in their suits and ties and Christmas dresses.
Shawna Bennington comes running out of the ladies’ room in her sparkly red sweater dress to embrace Ray. She’s got these red feathers along the neckline that tickle Ray’s chin. “I can’t believe what you all have done to the cathedral!”
Ray gives a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you,” she says. “It just goes to show that flowers and greenery mean everything to a space.”
“Mmm hmm,” Shawna nods and waves to a familiar parishioner. “And I hear y’all gussied up Kitty B.’s house too.”
“You’re going to die when you see it,” Ray says as she pictures the way Kitty B.’s looked this afternoon as she oversaw the setup. “It’s like a whole new place. And with the tent on the river and the Christmas lights around the live oaks, it is truly—”
“Excuse me, dear,” Shawna says. “I see my Aunt Alvina coming. She drove all the way from Arkansas.”
“Hurry up and get a bite to eat, girls,” Ray says to the bridesmaids after glancing at the clock. “We’ve got to get your dresses on in just a moment.” Ray loves to stay with the bridal party so she stations herself in the girls’ dressing room and holds open her tackle box of wedding essentials.
The girls are still in their street clothes, but their faces and hair are all fixed up. Kitty B. treated them all to an afternoon with Sylvia and Trudi Prescott, who sculpted beautiful French twists with fine little curled wisps for everyone with long enough hair.
Katie Rae smiles and laughs on the edge of the gathering. She’s managed to keep off most of the weight from her Special K diet, and she’s going to be a more beautiful bride than Ray ever imagined. Sylvia fixed her hair down, but she’s taken two strands from the front and tied them back with a pearl clasp so that it looks very free and natural. Quite a good choice for her. Oh, what will Ray do about Priscilla’s dreadlocks? Surely, she can talk her daughter into cutting them off before her big day.
Ray watches as Katie Rae leans into Froot Loop’s cage and pats his head. She doesn’t know why in the world Katie Rae insisted that the parrot attend the ceremony, but she’s always been a bit off when it comes to animals. Anyhow, Marshall arranged it so that two groomsmen will bring Froot Loop’s cage out just before the ceremony, and they will set it in the far corner of the stage so he can have a good view. Thank goodness Marshall didn’t ask to bring any reptiles!
Now Ray zips up dress after glorious bridesmaid dress. She guided Katie Rae on the selection, and she was thrilled when she chose the lovely green velvet gown in the window of Berlin’s. They are sleeveless with a regal square neckline and floor-length A-line skirt. Also, they have a satin stole that the bridesmaids are to wear around their necks. The stole settles along their shoulder blades and highlights the velvet-covered buttons on the back of the dress. They are remarkably elegant, and Ray has already ordered next season’s styles for Priscilla to choose from.
Kitty B. looks beautiful. She’s in a gold silk jacket she bought in the boutique section at Steinmart and a black velvet skirt that sweeps the floor. She’s wearing her mama’s triple strand of pearls and her long white kid gloves, and she’s lost at least ten pounds in the last two weeks so that she looks more like Roberta than ever.
Sis pops in to check on everyone. She sports her standard winter concert dress: a sleeveless black velvet top and a red raw silk skirt. She reminds Ray of a china doll or Snow White with her dark hair, ivory skin, and bright red lipstick. How in world has a man not swooped her up by now? That’s one of life’s greatest mysteries.
“Come on,” Ray says, pulling Katie Rae’s arm gently away from Froot Loop’s cage. “Let’s get the bride dressed.”
“Okay,” she says sheepishly, and the other girls giggle as they check one another’s dresses. Vangie’s seamstress did a fair job with Kitty B.’s old dress, but it doesn’t have Hilda’s touch. Hilda could have cut out the puffy sleeves and created a strapless top trimmed with the beading from the old sleeves, but this gal just sewed some new silk trim across the top, and it doesn’t quite match the color of the aged dress. Ray hopes to heaven that Hilda will come out before Priscilla’s wedding.
Just as she snaps the final button on Katie Rae’s dress, the bride turns to Ray, plunks down on the vanity stool, and starts to weep. Kitty B. and Cricket run over and Ray scurries to find a handkerchief in the bridal emergency kit, which she quickly hands to Katie Rae and says, “Heavens, don’t let your makeup run!”
“And don’t let your mascara get on the dress, darlin’,” Kitty B. adds.
Katie Rae wipes her eyes with a handkerchief then turns to look at her reflection. “I just don’t know if I can go through with this.” She looks up at Kitty B.’s reflection in the vanity mirror. Ray glances at Kitty B. and then back to Katie Ray. It’s thirty minutes before the ceremony, Ray thinks. She can’t be doing this.
“Sweetheart, what do you mean?” Kitty B. asks. “Is there something wrong?”
“I’m just scared.” Katie Rae spins her engagement ring round and round her finger as her large chest rises and falls dramatically as if she is starting to hyperventilate. For a minute Ray’s afraid her bosoms are going to flop right over the top of the beaded trim, but Katie Rae pulls up her top and says, “I mean this is the rest of my life, Mama. And I haven’t known Marshall all that long.”
Just then Ray’s cell phone rings and though she hesitates to answer it, she can’t help herself once she sees Priscilla’s cell number lighting up the small screen.
“Excuse me just one moment,” Ray says to the gals as she takes a few steps back into the bathroom. She knows she should help get Katie Rae settled down, but she just has to find out about the proposal.
“Mama, you’re going to die,” Priscilla says from the other end of the phone. Though the connection isn’t perfect Ray can tell that she’s either giddy or drunk.
“What?” Ray says. “Tell me, darling! I’ve been waiting for this call all day.”
“Vegas, baby,” a hoarse male voice hollers into the phone. It sounds vaguely familiar, but Ray can’t quite place it.
“Who is that?” she asks. “Did Donovan propose? I helped him with the ring. We picked it out at Croghan’s. Don’t you love it?”
“That’s J.K., Mama.”
“J.K.?” Ray says as her gut begins to churn. “As in Knucklehead J.K.?”
“Yes,” she says, giggling. “Stop that,” she says to him in a hushed tone. “Mama, we’re in Las Vegas.”
“Las Vegas? What in the world are you doing there? And with J.K.?”
Kitty B. and Sis peer into the open door of the bathroom. Then they start eyeing each other over Ray, and their faces begin to redden with what they’re guessing is a kind of panic or fear. Katie Rae still weeps at the vanity, but they’ve dropped her arm and they’re leaning in to listen to Ray’s conversation. Ray moves toward a lavender stall and rests her head against its plastic door. There is a laminated poster right at her eye level that reads, “CREATOR,” and it has a picture of this grand waterfall spewing over a lush valley.
“What are you saying, Priscilla?” Ray says.
“J.K. and I just tied the knot, Mama!” she says. “When Donovan proposed yesterday, I just couldn’t say yes. Something just wouldn’t let me do it, you know? It was just too perfect or something. And then I called J.K. and by last night we were on our way to Vegas. We got married in this cheesy little white chapel that was actually in the center of a casino! Isn’t that a riot?”
This is a joke, Ray thinks.
Some kind of awful, ugly prank.
Then Priscilla continues, “This is right for me, Mama. I know it’s not the way you would have planned things, but Donovan’s proposal made me realize how much I love J.K. It made it crystal clear in my mind, and we wanted to make it official as quickly as we could. We wanted to be whimsical, too, you know?”
Now bile rises in Ray’s throat. She scratches her thigh, which causes a three-pronged run in her new Talbots extra-sheer black hose. This cannot be happening. Her heart beats at a rapid pace. She might faint, she thinks. She might collapse. She might die right here before Katie Rae makes it down the aisle. It’ll be the second ambulance the purple cathedral will have seen in a twenty-four hour time span.
“We can throw a big party in Jasper whenever you want, Mama,” Priscilla says.
“Yeah!” says J.K. “Absolutely, doll!”
“Mama?” says Priscilla. “You can pull out all of the stops like you’ve always wanted to. It will be great! Mama?”
Ray is speechless. She’s still half expecting Donovan to come on the line and say it’s all a joke, but she knows deep down it’s not.
“Hey there, Mrs. Montgomery,” a raspy voice hollers into the phone. “Yesterday was the greatest day of my life,” he says. “I love your daughter so much. I thought I had lost her for good.”
Before he utters another word, Ray snaps her cell phone closed, bangs it against the wall several times then throws it in the purple plastic trash can in the church bathroom. Sis and Kitty B. rush in and move cautiously around her as though she’s a pig trapped in a flower bed and they want to minimize her destruction.
“Poop 2,” Ray says as they take a step closer and try to read her eyes. She can’t stop the tears of fury from brimming over. “Priscilla flew to Las Vegas last night and married Poop 2.”
Sis and Kitty B. shake their heads and move in to pat her back. “Oh Ray,” Kitty B. says. “I’m so sorry.”
The Wedding Machine Page 23
