by Lisa Smartt
Dave wore the same gray suit he always wears to funerals, weddings, and graduations. But Doug and I lovingly suggested he buy a new white shirt and a shiny silver tie. We also suggested he use hair product to add some spiky volume to his look. Well, I suggested that. Doug doesn’t typically use the words spiky or volume or hair product. Dave planned to just polish his black funeral shoes, but Doug and I said he should throw caution to the wind and buy new shoes in honor of the 25% off sale at the Shoe Shack. Smooth move, Dave. Smooth move. Lookin’ good.
Doug glanced at his program and whispered, “Look. She’s up next.”
Billy Crystal and Julia Roberts walked to the mic. Billy named all the nominees for best female actor and made some funny disparaging comment about each one. But it was all done in good taste. When it came to Ashley, he said, “And Ashley Harrison is nominated for her role as Emily in Over the Hills. But of course, no one cares about the movie. We just want to know if Ashley got her dress at Target or JC Penney this year.” We all laughed. I looked down front as Dave put his arm around Ashley and kissed her on the cheek. He was proud of her. All of her.
Julia Roberts took on a more serious tone. “And the Oscar goes to…” Long pause. “Meryl Streep.”
Of course. I mean, honestly, who is going to beat Meryl Streep…at anything. She probably even wins when she plays Monopoly or UNO. And UNO’s theoretically a game of chance. Doug put his arm around me and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I whispered back, “I’m not worried.” I pointed to where she and Dave were sitting. “She got the prize.”
About thirty minutes later, Blake Blanton won the Oscar for his portrayal of Daniel. I have no idea what he said in his acceptance speech. I couldn’t hear his words because I was too busy watching Dave and Ashley. When Blake’s name was called, they stood and applauded. Dave put his arm around Ashley and they shared a discreet laugh. She’d always said Blake should get the award for Best Actor. And he did. When Blake later came back to their table on a commercial break, Dave stood and shook his hand briskly. Ashley hugged his neck. Despite all the pain of the past, they congratulated him…because that’s what they do. They forgive. They move on. It’s called freedom.
Oh, and Ashley got the exact Oscar party she wanted too. Y’see, this year we decided to cater things a little differently, a little more reflective of our guests’ personal style. We served pulled pork on big hamburger buns, fried chicken, tater logs, coleslaw, fruit salad, and baked beans, along with gallons of sweet tea and trays of peach cobbler. Some of our California friends said it was the best party food they’d ever eaten.
Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Bart made the bus trip along with Brother Dan, Margaret, Chester, and Ida. Margaret said she could write a book about what happened when the six of them met a friendly group of motorcycle enthusiasts at a rest stop outside of Phoenix. But she doubted anyone would believe it. But of course, I would.
Ashley flew Dusty, Clara, Will, Mandy, Molly and little Beauregard (in utero) to LA for all the Oscar festivities. Will was fascinated with the huge ice sculptures at the party. One in the shape of Alabama, one in the shape of California, and the other in the shape of Tennessee. Ashley later said it paid tribute to the three places she calls home. Mandy and Molly gave her a macaroni bracelet which she promptly placed on her wrist.
Now this is the part where you think I’m gonna say that Dave got down on one knee, right there in front of all of us, and professed his undying love for Ashley and his desire to make her his wife. And we all cheered and the Entertainment Tonight people did an on-camera interview with both of them. And Dave was then interviewed by Barbara Walters. Uh, no.
Truthfully, with the swarm of media folks around, proposing on Oscar night would be more of a publicity stunt. A Blake Blanton-ish move. And Dave? Well, Dave is a lot of things but he’s nothing like Blake Blanton.
Chapter 58 (TWO MONTHS LATER) DAVE: Florence in Early Spring
Ashley and I sat in old metal lawn chairs on a small faded wooden deck in her parents’ backyard. Their old middle-class neighborhood is pleasantly void of big brown wooden privacy fences. Most of the neighbors have waist-high chain link fences, and only because they need to keep their dogs contained, not because they’re trying to keep people out. We’ve all grown used to having Sam or Paul around at all times. And they’ve grown used to us too…and especially to all the southern cooking. They’re both older men with military backgrounds. And while they take body guarding seriously, they’re easy-going and pleasant.
The sun was setting over her grandma’s house, which was a small brick ranch directly behind her parents’ backyard. Ashley was wearing faded blue jeans and an old navy cardigan, along with her bunny slippers. She apologized for being so slouchy. I had no idea what she was talking about. She was stunning. Relaxed. Happy. I reached over for her hand. “Your mom is a really good cook.”
“Yeah. She is. Always has been.”
“And I love the way your folks are with Collin, both of them.”
“Oh, they love him! Really. We all do.”
“Yeah. I appreciate that.” I moved my chair so that it faced hers and I held both her hands in mine. “I have a problem.”
She asked cheerfully, “What’s your problem?”
I stared directly into her eyes. “I’m in love. I’ve got it bad too. I’m talkin’ totally ridiculous over-the-top crazy in love.”
She smiled. “And why is that a problem?”
“Well, first of all, this girl wears bunny slippers which is just, I don’t know, weird.”
She laughed. “Go on.”
“But the real problem is that I’m losing a lot of sleep at night. Thinking about her. Wishing I could be with her. All the time.” I got down on one knee. “Wanting to be with her forever. For always. Ashley, will you marry me?”
I pulled a macaroni ring from my left pocket and handed it to her. She laughed through the tears, “Oh look! My favorite!”
“Oh shoot. Wrong pocket.” I pulled out a tiny black velvet box and opened it.
Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. “Yes! Oh, yes.”
We both stood and I kissed her like I never had before, with a new intensity. Passionate? Yes. But with a promise. “I love you, Ashley Harrison. Always and forever.”
About that time Collin bounded out the door with Ashley’s parents following along behind. “Daddy, we’ve got popcorn!”
“Great! Sounds good! Guess what I have, Buddy? I have news.”
“What, Daddy?”
“Daddy and Ashley are getting married.”
Ashley reached over and picked Collin up and held him close. “What do you think about that?”
“I think kissing girls is yucky.”
She laughed. “You think I’m yucky?”
Collin hugged her neck. “No. You’re not a girl. You’re Ashley!”
Chapter 59 CARLIE: Curtain Call
Three months later, on a rainy June day, Dave and Ashley got married at First Baptist Church in Florence. Alabama, not Italy. Yes, Ashley and I made another trip to Aunt Millie’s bridal shop for a wedding dress and a matron of honor dress. Ashley wore a traditional white dress that fit her so beautifully, so perfectly. Even the gossip mags had to admit she was stunning. Dave publicly professed that she could count on him, that his love was solid. In good times and bad. In sickness and in health. He looked into her eyes and said solemnly, “In stardom or lack of stardom…I’ll still be there, Ashley. Day after day. Loving you. I will.” And while the rest of us smiled, she cried.
I wore periwinkle. Doug said I looked strikingly beautiful and that I should be careful, so as not to detract from the bride. Such a keeper. Rusty Barn Nails performed the greatest hits of Waylon and Willie in front of a wildly enthusiastic crowd at the reception. Along with eleven professional security guards, Uncle Bart kept the media at bay with his verbal threats and a few other scare tactics that involved illegal explosives and shouldn’t be recorded for future generations to read.
> The new little Robertson family now spends most of their time in California. But thankfully, they kept the little Tennessee cabin in the woods. And I’m glad. Sometimes they invite us all out there for a picnic. The kids chase each other with sticks. And Brother Dan brings his fiddle. And Aunt Charlotte buck dances on the old wooden porch. And Uncle Bart brings his own buttermilk. And seein’ as how the cabin is right outside the city limits, Chester always asks if he can shoot his gun at empty milk cartons. And we all say “no.” In unison.
It’s true, y’know. We sometimes get in each other’s business. But it’s almost always done in love. A modern-day philosopher, who shall remain nameless, once said, “If you love me, you might need to occasionally kick me in the pants. But I’ll try to look at it as a form of transportation…a way of moving me forward.”
THE END
Book #4 in the Doug and Carlie Series coming December 2014
Join Lisa on Facebook for news, info, and funny small town tidbits: https://www.facebook.com/lisasmarttbooks
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Philip, you are faithful, strong, loving, good with directions (a bonus for a directionally-challenged writer), intelligent, and supportive beyond my wildest dreams. I’m thankful for your presence and your friendship for the last twenty-five years. Day after day. Week after week. Year after year. You lead with love and I’m grateful.
Stephen and Jonathan, when I think of you both, I think about a line from Alan Jackson’s Remember When. “Remember when the sound of little feet became the music we danced to week to week.” Your little feet quickly grew into big feet. Sometimes it’s hard to believe the little boys who brought us so much joy are now teenagers. Men. You have taught me so much and you still bring joy to this mama’s heart. Every day.
Jack and Regina Golden (Daddy and Mama), if there’s one thing you taught me (and you taught me a lot of things) it’s that we shouldn’t give up on people. Your life is a beautiful picture with a powerful message. Every person is a work in progress…in need of love, grace, mercy. Thank you.
Les and Sylvia Smith, if everyone had in-laws as fabulous as mine, late night talk show hosts would have nothing to laugh about. Your love and support means more than you know.
Merry Brown, you never let me quit. You listened when listening was the need. You straightened me out when straightening me out was the need. You are an excellent writer, colleague, and friend. Thank you.
Mama, I stand in awe of your diligence and proofreading skills. Some people have heart. Others have ability. You have both. I’m grateful.
“Every good and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.” James 1:17