Heartwood

by L. G. Pace III

  As Betty handed me her daughter’s arm, she gave me a look of such utter happiness...it was almost too much. Molly caught my eye and from that moment the rest of the ceremony passed in a blur. All that mattered was that she was finally mine and I was finally hers.

  When we picked The Salt Lick for our wedding, it wasn’t just because Pecan Grove was beautiful. It was also because they catered the reception. There is no greater feast than one of unlimited barbeque ribs and brisket. Molly and I ventured up to cut the cake, so that the crowd could start the buffet line. Lisa was snapping pictures of the cakes, and rolled her eyes when I stepped into her shot. I gave her a wide berth, covering the crotch of my trousers just to be safe. I doubted she was angry enough to visit her well known wrath on me in front of a room full of people. And I didn’t see any scissors.

  The three tiered cake Molly had picked looked perfect in the rustic setting. She had ordered cupcakes as well for those who didn’t like lemon cake. They were plain yellow cake, but the frosting looked like the blue bonnets that were in the mason jars at every table. Molly’s sunflowers and bluebonnets bouquets looked suspiciously like the flowers Francis had given her the night we first hooked up. Like every other selection for the party, they were simple but perfect for us. It’s a wonder that I noticed any details at all, since the sight of her by candlelight made it hard to focus on anything else. She pointed to the other end of the table. When I caught sight of my groom’s cake, I chuckled.

  “Do you like it?” Molly asked, her eyes hopeful.

  The chocolate cake looked like a saw table with a wood grain design and tools scattered over it. I put my arm around her and whispered in her ear.

  “It’s perfect, just like you, Mrs. Jensen.” She kissed me tenderly, and I felt my smile evaporate in a moment of doubt. We’d never talked about the name change, and Molly had a tendency to fly in the face of convention. “You are going to take my name, right?”

  She looked up at me with her sparkling blue eyes. There wasn’t a hint of irony on her face “I want all of us to have the same last name.”

  We made our way through the maze of tables, stopping to meet Dr. Greene’s wife.

  “Thanks for coming, Doc.” I murmured, as Molly and his wife chatted about how pretty the venue was and how much she enjoyed the ceremony.

  “I wouldn’t have missed it,” he replied. He looked like he had a lot more to add, but he didn’t.

  Molly tugged me toward my parents’ table where my father was engaged in some lively banter with Francis’s date, the lovely Beverly Campbell. We spent a few minutes holding the twins until they were snatched back by Jaimie and Tressa, who seemed to think caring for the babies was part of their flower girl duties.

  On our way back to the head table, we greeted a few guests who hadn’t made it to the ceremony. Some friends of Molly’s had flown in from Seattle, and I was sure Molly would break her no-cry policy when she saw them. She proved me wrong once more, and proudly introduced me to the newcomers. They were a friendly bunch of misfits, and I finally broke away to carry our plates to the table as she pulled the group over to my parents’ table once more to show off the twins.

  Once she finally joined me at the head table, the server brought us more drinks and for a blessed few moments we all focused on our food.

  “I bet you five bucks you can’t eat all that without getting any on your gown.” I said, chewing the juicy brisket with admiration.

  She leaned in close so only I could hear her. “Make it five orgasms and you have yourself a deal.”

  I shrugged. “It’s a win/win.”

  She proceeded to prove she could keep her gown spot free, and I smiled, knowing I’d enjoy paying up on our tropical honeymoon. Molly had great fun feeding me burnt ends and I ate enough ribs to construct a small barrier at the edge of the table with the bones I’d picked clean.

  Once all the guests had a chance to get through the buffet and everyone was well into their meal, Graham rose, gently tapping his glass with his fork. As the crowd settled down, he turned and beamed down at Molly and me.

  “There is something to be said for the mettle of a man or woman that knows adversity. In life, all too often we are handed burdens that are almost too heavy to carry. Today, we gather to celebrate the union of two very special people. Both have shown great character in the face of hardship. Their deep and abiding love stands as a shining beacon to us all. They are living proof that we must always strive to a better day. It’s with the greatest pleasure that I ask you to raise your glasses to our honored hosts. To the bride and groom!”

  The room erupted with cheers and Molly took my hand as the clinking of glasses sounded all around. Molly leaned in and gave me a kiss and cheers rang out all around. Standing, I enfolded Graham in a fierce hug.

  “Thank you, sir.” I mumbled, my throat feeling thick and painful.

  Graham patted me on the back. “You are more than welcome, son. Congratulations.”

  Graham turned to hand Dan the mic. Not to be outdone, Dan smiled happily out at the crowd.

  “Have you ever seen a more beautiful couple?”

  There was a considerable round of applause and Molly and I exchanged an embarrassed glance.

  “I’m honored to introduce myself as Molly’s Dirty Old Maid of Dishonor. I’m Dan...and I’ve known Molly for several years but it seems like decades. We met in her early days in the restaurant business. I was the wine expert at a trendy restaurant and the owner told me I needed to meet the new head chef to go over her menu. When the bartender pointed her out, I was surprised. She was way too young to be the head chef.”

  I turned to see Molly’s reaction, and she looked a little apprehensive about what was coming next.

  “When I first heard her say ‘y’all’ I was like ‘yay! A Southern Belle! It was like finding a kindred spirit in the dreary land of constant rain. We instantly bonded over what it was like to be strangers in a strange land.”

  Molly squeezed my hand, but I was focused on listening to Dan recount part of Molly’s life I hadn’t been around for. It was bittersweet; I was glad to hear the details, but part of me mourned the missed time with her. I watched Dan take a drink from his wine glass. His smile faulted for a moment, and he pressed on.

  “The first time I saw her, I couldn’t believe that this pretty little thing could wield a knife like she did. She was barking orders, bossing around men three times her size. And I’m here to tell you, they snapped to as if she were a drill sergeant. Molly’s all the evidence you need that you should never judge a book by its cover. I’d never have guessed she had such talent...or such a foul mouth.”

  Mason nearly fell out of his chair. Molly covered her face as the rest of the room chuckled.

  Dan paused, and I saw his expression shift again. His eyes shone, and I wondered where he was about to go with this train of thought.

  “I watched this remarkable girl triumph professionally and suffer unfairly privately. I saw her tested, disrespected, and yet continuously shine. I’ve always admired her courage. Through all of her loses and trials, Molly always remained generous, and certainly more dignified than I would have been.”

  Tears streamed down Dan’s face, and I heard Molly sniff next to me. Dan took a second to wipe his eyes.

  “When she introduced me to Joe, I knew right away there was something special about him. They meshed like they were meant to be. And I thought ‘Thank goodness. My beautiful friend finally found her other half.’“

  Dan turned to us and raised his wineglass. In my peripheral vision, I saw the crowd following his lead.

  “To Molly and Joe. I wish you long lives filled with love and laughter.”

  Molly stood and swept to Dan like she wore floor length gowns on a daily basis. She hugged Dan as the crowd applauded.

  She sat beside me again and I kissed her cheek. The clinking began again and I turned to the crowd.

  “Alright, alright. Voyeurs.” I called to them with mocked annoyance and kissed Mol
ly again with extra flourish.

  My father gave a stilted toast and Molly’s mom recited a quick poem. Her brothers dropped a couple of embarrassing stories about both of us onto the crowd, who greedily ate it up. The guests finally dove back into their food and we had some down time. Glad to be done with the champagne, I nursed my beer. My belly was full and I was contented as I looked over at my beautiful bride. She turned and told me it was almost time for us to have our first dance.

  The DJ cued up our song, Amazed by Lone Star, and I swept Molly into my arms. Though we had slow danced many times, I had another surprise for her. I had taken some ballroom classes with Jess in preparation for our first dance, so that I wouldn’t embarrass her in front of everyone. I busted a few moves out, figuring it was a shame to let them go to waste. As I swept Molly around the floor, her eyes flashed with delight as she gamely moved her feet to try to keep up with me.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing.” She laughed, and I dipped her and kissed her. When the music died, there was a moment of pure silence before everyone cheered.

  Moving back to our table we caught our breath and had some water. I was thinking of trying to sneak her out early when the DJ came back on the mic.

  “All right everyone it is time for the bride to dance with her father. Can the bride and her father please make their way to the floor?”

  Molly stiffened and I saw tears begin to well in her eyes. Someone had fucked up by not cluing in the DJ that this particular tradition was not on our itinerary. Anger blossomed in my breast and I swiveled my head to look over at the man. The guy must have finally realized that something was up because he went deathly pale. He opened and closed his mouth a few times but nothing came out.

  The sound of a chair scraping against the floor interrupted the moment. A shadow fell in front of us and suddenly Mac was there. Holding out his hand to a stunned looking Molly, he pulled her up out of her chair and gave a thumb’s up to the befuddled DJ. I watched as her brother led her over to the dance floor and for the first time all day her resolve finally crumbled and she began to cry. They danced slowly and I could see the two of them talking, but I couldn’t make out a word of what they said. Soon Francis and Kelly joined them on the dance floor, along with my parents. I was about to make a break for the cake table when Granny Hildebrandt appeared in front of me.

  “Alright, Fred Astair.” She purred. “Let’s do this.”

  “Who can refuse an offer like that?” I drawled, and took her for a spin.

  The song ended, and I saw Molly hug Mac. When he returned her to me, I was shocked to see a tear running down his cheek. Molly was practically glowing she looked so happy, and Mac nodded to me as he turned to claim Kelly from her dad.

  Grabbing my hand, Molly pulled me close and whispered in my ear.

  “Let’s go find the twins. I want to give them a thousand kisses before we go.”

  WHEN WE WERE kids, my cousins planned for their weddings like they were coronations. Sleepovers revolved around notebooks stuffed with clippings from bridal magazines and elaborate plans scrawled in purple ink. Horse drawn carriages, twenty tiered cakes, groomsmen in tails, and scads of bridesmaids, none of whom were nearly as pretty as the bride. Me? I’d just yawn and wander out to the back yard to play fetch with their dog. I didn’t care about any of that crap, at least not until I met Joe.

  After that, even through my tomboy colored goggles, I could finally relate to my giggling peers. I’d lie in my bed every night and daydream about riding off into the sunset with Joe. As I grew a bit older and my hormones took control of the wheel, my adolescent dreams turned from marriage to more...embarrassing fantasies. The night I tried to cuddle up to him and he called me jailbait, I realized just how ridiculous my feelings were. That was the moment when I realized exactly what the term “crush” really meant. To Joe, I would always be a silly little girl with braces and birth control glasses.

  So being the runt of the bad ass Hildebrandt clan, I stubbornly shrugged it off and moved on to boys my own age. I got my first taste of what relationships between males and females are actually like. Oh...the disappointment. I went through guys like a frat house goes through red solo cups. None of them stuck, which in retrospect was a good thing. I was kind of a bad kid, and my decisions were all manner of unfortunate. I snuck out constantly, dated older boys, and pulled some shit that makes me cringe even to this day. It’s a ginormous wonder I made it to adulthood at all.

  When I graduated and went out into the world to make my own way, I’d buried those old fantasies of epic romance deep in a box marked ‘Fat Chance’ and left it in my parents’ attic along with my baby book and finger paintings from the third grade.

  When I married Draven, the ceremony was just like the marriage. Disappointing on every level. At the time, I told myself that the union was more important than the quickie wedding...that it didn’t matter where and how we did it. The little girl inside me-the one with the knobby knees and braces who remembered what it felt like to be head over heels-threw a tantrum. And I ignored her. I dismissed her like Joe had dismissed me. That had been a nearly fatal mistake. I should have listened to my instincts and run the other way. I should have paid more attention.

  When Joe and I ran into each other again, the last thing on my mind was marriage. Even after the two of us became a couple, a small voice kept telling me it would never last. He couldn’t possibly want me. This was all going to unravel like a beautiful dream, from which I would wake up hung over and alone.

  When we found out I was pregnant, I thought it was the beginning of the end for us. The night he asked me to marry him, I finally let myself accept that he meant what he said. He was really mine. The way he looked surrounded by the drifts of glittering manmade snow...and the way he looked at me...I will never forget it. That perfect moment will be the last thing I think about on my deathbed.

  Every second of my wedding day mattered. Planning it and making everything right was critical. Not in a bridezilla kind of way. I wanted Joe involved in every decision because I wanted the ceremony and the party to reflect both of us. I wanted it to tell the tale of our courtship so we could share it with our family and friends. From the music to the location, each decision we made held special significance. Each detail mattered, because it was the beginning of our story, not the beginning of the end.

  So, yes. I refused to cry during my wedding, because it was the culmination of the happiest era of my life. We’d been through our separate hells and our reward was each other. We’d paid our dues. Now it was time to celebrate.

  And celebrate we had. I kept the tears at bay all the way through Dan’s speech, but when Mac of all people stepped forward to save me during the father/daughter dance debacle, I was too stunned to react any other way.

  His eyes made it clear I would dance with him, and it had been a long time since Mac had asked, let alone demanded anything from me. We’d had a mutual understanding since dad’s funeral that we had to grow the hell up and keep the family operating. It was odd that the two of us would be the ones in those roles. Mason was the oldest, with a stable marriage and established family. You’d have thought he’d be the natural patriarch. Daddy’s death weakened him, but it just pissed Mac off. So Mac had been handed the man of the house torch whether he was ready or willing to do the job.

  For a few weeks after dad died, mom was struggling, I helped Mac make plans, sign papers, and basically figure out what to do. He’d left a thriving business without a captain at the helm, and I was trying hard to keep my marriage together, so moving back to run Hildebrandt’s wasn’t even something I considered. Mac threw that in my face a couple of times over the years. I have a lot of regrets about my decisions regarding staying away, but at the time I thought I was making the grown up choices I had to make.

  Mac and I hadn’t been able to get to a comfortable place since, so I took his offer to step into dad’s shoes during the dance as a concession in our ongoing war. Still, the tension of the day had finally cau
ght up to me. In that single moment, his gesture pushed me over the edge. When the tears started to fall, the flabbergasted look Mac wore nearly made me laugh. He pulled me into a tight hug, then and there. All I could do was pat him on the back and sniff like a helpless idiot.

  Thankfully, he was more prepared than I was, and pulled a clean handkerchief from his suit pocket. I was astounded that he even had one, but I took it after a second’s hesitation. So there I stood wiping my nose as we moved in slow, awkward circles on the dance floor.

  “He would have loved this, you know?” Mac’s gruff voice sounded strained as he leaned down so I could hear him over the painfully sentimental tune blaring from the sound system.

  “What?” I asked, knowing exactly who he meant. He was filling in for him, after all.

  “Dad would have loved you and Joe. He always said how much he liked him.” He looked at me uncomfortably, and I saw tears standing in his eyes. It touched me. I’d rarely seen Mac cry. Not even at my father’s funeral. It was a disturbing and oddly beautiful thing to behold.

  “And Wrapgasmic.” He chuckled, but I saw a tear streak down his cheek. He ignored it. “He would have eaten that shit up.”

  “Maybe.” I felt an embarrassed smile creep onto my face.

  “No doubt about it, kid. You did good. You busted your ass and you’re living the dream. I’m sorry he isn’t here to see it. Or this. Today, I mean.”

  “Me too.” I said, hating the high pitched way my voice sounded, like a scared little girl.

  “I’m sorry for a lot of things, short shit. All that shit I said to you when he died. You didn’t deserve it. I was fucked up. Pissed at the world.” He trailed off, as if talking about it would somehow jinx him and bring all that bad luck back in his direction. I understood that way of thinking. Daddy’s death came in the midst of Mac’s short lived attempt at a reunion with Patty. Things were getting pretty bad between Draven and I, and adding Daddy’s death into the mix was an accelerant that our fiery tempers didn’t need. I could understand how misdirected love could annihilate your life.