The Wedding Machine

by Beth Webb Hart

  Ray hopes LeMar is right and that it will be a long time before they will be coordinating anyone’s funeral reception. LeMar has felt ill for over twenty years now, but this cancer has come on so fast it’s hard for the gang to take it in. Despite the hot flashes and the bald spots, it’s easy to forget that they are all aging. That time will catch up with them sooner or later and that those headstones in the All Saints parish graveyard will have some of their names etched on them in a few short decades.

  “Maybe LeMar should come for prayer,” Ray says before she even has time to stop herself.

  Kitty B. and Sis turn sharply toward her, their eyes widening in disbelief. Ray calmly pats her lips with a napkin and says, “You know, at the church. Capers and Vangie can pray for him.”

  “You really think he should?” Kitty B. says. “You think that might work?”

  “Yes.” Ray brushes a crumb off her nightgown and nods her head. “I do.”

  “Well, then, I’ll talk to him about that,” Kitty B. says. “I think he just might go, Ray. Thank you for the suggestion.”

  Sis turns to Kitty B. and winks. Then she reaches out and squeezes Ray’s wrist. “It’s a wonderful suggestion.”

  Ray nods her head and looks out over the water. Then she props her legs on the table by Sis.

  “I’m just so excited about tomorrow.” Kitty B. nudges Sis’s elbow. “Aren’t you?”

  “I am.” Sis grins and even in the darkness Ray imagines her cheeks reddening. “I really can’t believe it’s happening.”

  “We’re just so happy for you,” Kitty B. says.

  “We are.” Ray sits up and looks at the tent and then back to the gals. Her stomach starts to churn the way it usually does before she hosts a big event. “I just hope we haven’t forgotten anything, y’all. Is there anything else you can think of?”

  “Yes,” a quiet voice calls from the dark edge of the garden. “There is one more thing.”

  Ray leans forward and squints, and she can see a long piece of whiteness moving toward them.

  “What’s that ?” Sis says, sitting up in her seat.

  “Who’s there?” Kitty B. says as she stands.

  “She can’t get married without this,” the figure says as it moves toward the porch, carefully holding the whiteness above the ground.

  “Hilda?” Kitty B. takes a step toward the garden and then looks back at Sis and Ray. “Y’all, I think that’s her.”

  “Hush, Kitty B.,” the voice says. “Don’t make a scene. I’m just coming to drop this wedding gown off.”

  “It is her!” Sis says. She leaps up from her chair and runs out to greet her, and the others follow.

  Ray grabs the gown out of her hands and drapes it over the piazza railing and waits her turn to embrace her. In the moonlight Hilda looks better than Ray would ever expect. She’s thin but not more so than usual, and she holds her back up straight as a rod with her perfect posture as she blots her painted lips.

  Ray smells cigarette smoke and Coco Chanel when she steps toward her. She gives her a firm hug and says, “I’m just so glad to lay eyes on you.”

  Hilda nods toward the dress. “Go try it on, Sis. I won’t be brave enough to come out tomorrow, but I want to see you in it tonight.”

  Sis takes the dress and Kitty B. follows her upstairs. “We’ll back in a minute,” she says.

  “Thank you,” Ray says to Hilda in the darkness of her piazza. “I can’t believe you were able to make something in that short amount of time.”

  Hilda takes a deep breath and looks out over the tidal creek.

  “It was my pleasure,” she says. “And the least I could do. Y’all have been my lifeline these last few months, and I might just make it because of you.”

  Ray reaches out and grabs Hilda’s hand. “You will,” she says. “You just need some time.”

  Hilda doesn’t let go of Ray’s hand as Sis comes back down and models the elegant silk gown. It’s a silk A-line with a creamy sash and the most delicate cropped jacket with scalloped edges that you have ever seen. Sis looks positively stunning in it.

  “I love it, Hilda!” Sis says. “It’s more gorgeous than anything I could have imagined, and it fits perfectly. How did you know my measurements?”

  Hilda gives Ray’s hand a tighter squeeze. “I’m just that good,” she says.

  Kitty B. claps her hands and Ray pours a glass of wine for Hilda, and they sit on the piazza and tell Hilda all about the plans for tomorrow until she finally says, “I’d better get home now.”

  They all walk her down Third Street to the corner, Sis lifting her dress as they move along the sidewalk.

  “You understand why I can’t be there tomorrow?” Hilda says to Sis as she lifts the bottom of her dress when they cross the street.

  “Yes,” Sis says. “Of course I do.”

  As they move together through the wrought iron gates of Hilda’s home, Ray says, “We want to know something, Hilda.”

  Hilda pulls out her key and looks back at her as she unlocks the door. “What?”

  “Are you going to let us in your house now? So we can see you regularly.”

  “Probably so,” Hilda says as she steps in the doorway, her thin figure like a shadowed mannequin outlined by the soft light from the hall lamp. “But don’t stop writing the letters.”

  They look at one another and smile as Hilda reaches behind the door. “One more thing.” She pulls out a miniature lace dress and hands it to Ray. “Here’s Miss C.’s ensemble. Can’t forget that detail.”

  Sis reaches out to touch the dress. “Hey, that’s the fabric from my old wedding dress,” she says. Then she looks at each of them. “Y’all went and bought it back, didn’t you?”

  They each shrug and look at one another as Sis shakes her head and says, “Y’all are a mess.”

  “We just like to recycle,” Ray says. “Who doesn’t like to take some scraps and make something new?”

  They all giggle and Hilda says to Sis, “Best wishes, my friend.” Then she waves once before gently closing the door.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Ray

  Sis’s wedding will be the most gorgeous one the town has ever seen. Ray even let Vangie Dreggs in on the action, and she has flown in an ice sculptor from the Four Seasons in Houston who is sculpting a gigantic treble clef as the centerpiece for the shrimp and crab claw table.

  Miss C. is a picture herself. Hilda took the bits of Sis’s old dress and created a complete ensemble with a full-length dress and a veil. Vangie put a mini organ and a toy trumpet on either side of her that looks adorable. Next to Miss C. is a basket filled with miniature trumpets that Ray found at the dollar store. The guests will play them during the couple’s departure.

  Ray’s garden is a sight. The giant oak trees on the side of the creek are brightened up with pastel painted sap buckets overflowing with flowers: periwinkle and pale green hydrangeas and English roses in yellow and pink. Garlands embellish everything from the piazza to the back porch railing to the rail of the dock. And here’s her absolute favorite touch: an old wooden canoe anchored in Round-O Creek overflows with the same flowers as the sap buckets. It floats in the center of the water like a vibrant picture of Lowcountry lushness, and before the guests arrive Ray will light some votives in these little plastic vases and send them gliding out into the creek.

  But there is more. At the edge of the creek Willy and Capers created an altar made from hay bales and a grapevine cross. Massive urns on either side of the altar hold the vibrant collection of white roses and gardenias. The wedding programs are lovely, too, with a pressed white pansy in the center and a yellow satin bow. Some of the children in Jasper who take piano lessons from Sis will stand at the edge of the creek in seersucker suits and dresses and hand out the programs.

  Then there is the reception tent! Inside there are candelabras draped in green moss. There is an icy caviar and vodka table in honor of Salvatore and a shrimp and grits table and the usual lamb and beef tenderloin statio
ns. The tall, narrow seven-tiered wedding cake is bedecked with gardenias and outlined at the base with votive candles in an array of little crystal vases that belong to Sis’s mama.

  After Ray makes sure the greeters are in position with the programs, Salvatore arrives, beaming from ear to ear and as handsome as can be in his black tails—a classic! He takes his place at the front of the altar once the guests are seated, and Ray grins at how puffed up he is when the ceremony begins and Cousin Willy walks his bride down the aisle in that raw silk dress Hilda made.

  Sis is wearing her mother’s double-strand pearls with a rose clasp, and her silky black hair is cut short and falls perfectly around her smiling face. The gardenias in her bouquet smell divine as she makes her way down the casual aisle and to the hay-bale altar. Salvatore squeezes her hand tightly, and they turn to face each other before the altar.

  Then Capers lifts his head toward the congregation and begins, “Dearly beloved: We have come together in the presence of God to witness and bless the joining together of this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony. The bond and covenant of marriage was established by God in creation, and our Lord Jesus Christ adorned this manner of life by His presence and first miracle at a wedding in Cana of Galilee. It signifies to us the mystery of the union between Christ and His Church, and Holy Scripture commends it to be honored among all people.”

  Oh, what a joy! In a sense, it’s as though Ray hears these words for the first time. God established marriage. And it symbolizes the mystery of the union between Jesus and His Church. A wedding is the grand celebration of this mystery, and Ray watches intently as Capers prepares the table and makes the Holy Eucharist in her own back garden.

  After Sis and Salvatore partake of the body and the blood, Capers invites the congregation to share in the feast. Ray can hardly wait to get down the aisle for another taste of that newfound peace she discovered in the graveyard a few weeks ago.

  “The Body of our Lord Jesus Christ keep you in everlasting life, Ray,” Capers says as he firmly places the wafer in her hand.

  She takes the paper-thin piece and places it on her tongue, and as it dissolves she prays, “Thank you. Thank you, Lord, for keeping me.”

  Once the reception is under way, Ray gives Vangie and Kitty B. their jobs. Ray’s in charge of watching over the food staff, Kitty B. is in charge of the bartenders, and Vangie is in charge of the wrap-up.

  Next Sis’s mama, Mrs. Mims, hobbles over on her elegant cane, grabs Ray’s elbow, and says, “Darling—” Her eyes tear up and she hugs Ray tight. “I can’t imagine a more beautiful wedding, and you deserve the credit. Thank you for honoring Sis after all of these years.”

  “Mrs. Mims,” Ray says, patting her back. “There is no one I’d rather do it for.”

  “Y’all have always been good to each other,” she says. “You’ve always looked after each other, and I know you will long after I’m gone.”

  “Well, we have to,” Ray says. “If we don’t, who else will? Certainly not our children, right?”

  Mrs. Mims smiles and pats Ray’s back. “Bless you,” she says. “You’re a gift to this community.”

  Now Ray scans the tent and spots the offspring who have taken the time to show up at the wedding. Cricket and Tommy hold hands by the dock as Marshall and Katie Rae cut a rug on the dance floor beneath the tent. Giuseppe embraces his new Aunt Sis as Salvatore pecks Little Hilda on the cheek. Ray’s son and his wife actually made the trip too. They are sitting on a low-lying live oak limb sipping Bellinis from the special batch that one of the uncles in the Giornelli family brought to the wedding.

  Priscilla and J.K. did not even take the time to regret the wedding. They didn’t send a gift, and no one has heard a word from them in weeks. Well, Ray can’t say that she’s surprised, but she’s not going to let their poor behavior ruin the evening for her. Priscilla knows better. That’s all she can say. Maybe one day she’ll put all her mama’s tried to teach her to use, but Ray’s not going to bet on it.

  Before long Angus comes over to Ray. “LeMar’s report yesterday did not look good. They still haven’t located the source, but the cancer has spread to his bones.”

  “Does Kitty B. know?” she asks.

  “I just told her,” he says.

  “Oh, dear,” Ray shakes her head.

  Then Kitty B. comes up between them and puts her arms around their waists.

  “We’re still coming for prayer,” she says. “I just talked to Capers about it, and the Benningtons said they want to come and pray for him too. We’re not just going to give up, right?” She wrings her soft, wide hands and says, “I better go on home now and see about him. Y’all tell Sis for me.”

  “All right.” Ray nudges Angus. “Walk her to her car, okay?”

  Angus nods and puts out his elbow for Kitty B. to take hold of as Vangie comes over to ask Ray a question about storing the tablecloths.

  When Vangie sees Ray’s face, she leans in and asks, “Is it LeMar?”

  Ray nods and pats Vangie’s arm. “Let’s enjoy the night.”

  “You’re right,” Vangie says. “Tomorrow will take care of itself.”

  Capers ambles up and asks Vangie to dance, and Ray shoos her toward the dance floor and says, “Go on.”

  Then Ray grabs one of her champagne glasses off one of Mrs. Pringle’s silver trays as the waiter passes by. She steps back, takes a sip, and watches Sis and Salvatore embrace as the band kicks in to “L-O-V-E” by Nat King Cole.

  Suddenly, Ray feels a warm, wide hand on her back.

  “May I have this dance?” Cousin Willy whispers, his plump lips tickling her ears.

  When she turns around he smiles with his hands open. Ray slips off her heels so she won’t be taller than him, and she puts her hands in his.

  As they dance in the fading light of the spring afternoon he says, “You done good, Ray.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You know what I was thinking?” he says. “It’ll be our thirty-fifth anniversary next summer.”

  “Will it really?” she says as he closes his eyes and pulls her close. She smells the gardenia on his lapel. Thick perfume.

  “How ’bout we renew our vows?”

  She pulls back and looks at him, and he opens his deep brown eyes. “You want to?” she says.

  “Yes ma’am.” He kisses her forehead. “Might as well re-up for another thirty-five.” He takes her hand and adds, “I only have one request.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It will be very small, and we will get the whole thing catered.” He spins her gently around and pulls her back to him. “We can fly this fellow back in from Houston if you want.”

  “I don’t know.” She shakes her head as they sway back and forth. “I wouldn’t want it to have a hotel-food feel.”

  He turns and dips her and as she leans back he says, “You are not going to lift a finger, Ray Montgomery.”

  “Ray Montgomery,” she says as he pulls her back up. She whispers into his ear, “I love that name. I wouldn’t change it if I could.”

  “Good.” He squeezes her tight and turns again.

  As Ray embraces Cousin Willy, she looks through the tent and out over the water. She can see the votives and the canoe filled with flowers drifting along the edge of the moonlit creek.

  She and Willy dance song after song together as Vangie oversees the wrap-up of the reception. Ray can hear her instructing Sis and Salvatore up to the guest room to change, and she watches as Vangie hands out the trumpets at the edge of the piazza for the going-away celebration.

  Tomorrow Ray and the gals will count and polish the silver and start cleaning and ironing the linens for Priscilla’s reception. She sent the invitations last week, and she’s already started to receive responses and a few gifts too.

  Now she rests her head on the shoulder of her husband, and she thanks the good Lord for giving her this man so many years ago. What would her life have been like if she didn’t let her mama push her out the door that
night the gang invited her to come steal a watermelon?

  She supposes they might have gotten together sooner or later, but they may not have had that moment. That memory of the warm wheel well in the back of Angus’s flatbed, and her future husband patting her back before putting his hand out flat as if he wanted her to give him five. Then his gentle voice filling the black space between them as he said, “I’m Willy, pretty girl.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  First I want to thank my dear friend Jenny Dickinson, and my husband, Edward B. Hart, Jr. who gave me the idea during a conversation around the dinner table a few years ago. I’m so glad we decided to compare weddings.

  A pregnant writer is no basket of fruit, and I am immensely grateful to my editor, Ami McConnell, and my copy editor, Rachelle Gardner, who kept me (and the story) on track during a long nine months. Their illuminating critiques and wise counsel made all of the difference. Thanks also go to my hometown readers who encouraged me during the early drafts: Lisa Hughes, Amy Watson Smith, and my husband, Edward.

  I am indebted to my publicist, Marjory Wentworth, as well as the following South Carolina bookstores: The Cozy Corner on Edisto Island, The Open Book in Greenville, Litchfield Books on Pawleys Island, and the Barnes & Noble booksellers in Mount Pleasant, Hilton Head, and Charleston. The books would never make it into the hands of readers if it weren’t for the work of these good folks.

  Finally, thanks be to the One from whom all good things come. I am blessed beyond measure to have the opportunity to do what I love.

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  1. The Wedding Machine is written in third person, but each chapter is devoted to different, alternating points of view. What affect do the shifting viewpoints have on the story? Is there one character who forms the emotional core of the book? Discuss.

  2. Consider the “watermelon stealing” flashback. Why is the memory of this event significant to each of the four women who form The Wedding Machine? In what ways were their roles and personas established on that summer night so many decades ago?