S.D. Youngren - Rowena 6 - Rowena Moves In.txt

by Rowena Moves In

  "Okay," Rowena said. "I'll give you her phone number. Just let me copy it down." She dug a piece of paper out of her purse, and a pencil, and copied the number Renee had given her. As she handed it to Sammy, she heard the shower water switch off. "Sammy?" somebody called.

  "Gotta go," Sammy told her. "Thanks for the wake-up." He moved to touch her, then looked at his wet hand and drew back.

  "Keep that number dry," she said. "Anything else you need?"

  "Well, you might see if they'll give you a refill for the coffee maker." He rubbed his eyes. "They probably didn't give us enough."

  Rowena dug in her purse again, located her aspirin bottle. "Here," she said. "Take this too."

  "Thanks. Thank you very much." He took the bottle. "See you at breakfast."

  "At breakfast," Rowena said.

  "Sammy!"

  "Coming."

  Just before the door closed, Rowena heard a hairdryer switch on.

  But it was Pete, not Sammy, who finally walked into the hotel's lobby. He was apologetic, embarrassed, and just a bit unsteady.

  "Red hair," he said, stopping in front of her and glancing, as if for confirmation, at a slip of paper in his hand.. "You're Rowena, right?"

  "Yes . . ."

  "Note for you. From Sammy." He held it out to her. With a sense of foreboding, she took it.

  The note was written on hotel stationery; across the top Sammy had written, in large capitals, "RED HAIR. NAME: ROWENA" She glanced very briefly at Pete, then read on.

  Rowena-- V. sorry I can't make breakfast, have to drive everybody home for tuxes, etc. Called Renee; all fine. Meet me at my apt. 10:45 & I'll drive you to church. Love always, S.

  P.S.--Tell Pete not to forget the sandwiches

  She looked up from the letter at Pete, who stood looking uncomfortable. "Why does Sammy have to drive everybody?" she asked.

  "He's the only one who feels well enough to drive," Pete said, looking at the floor.

  Rowena sighed. Usually she was glad Sammy was so stable and responsible.

  Pete peered at his watch. "I gotta get back. But I'm glad I found you. Sammy woulda killed me if I'd left you here waiting."

  "Well, thank you," Rowena said. "Good luck--and don't forget the sandwiches,"

  "Sandwiches!" He turned away, slapping his forehead, and then stopped abruptly. Rowena heard him inhale. She was about to ask him whether he was all right when he said, "Thanks for the aspirin."

  He left before she could reply.

  Rowena went home. She left a message on Sammy's answering machine, telling him that she would be at his apartment, dressed up and ready, at 10:45. And then she had breakfast alone in her apartment.

  Sammy was driving Pete's rental car, chosen because it was the largest of the vehicles at his disposal. They were on their way to fetch everyone back, but for just a few minutes, she had Sammy to herself. She wished he had farther to drive, or that the traffic were heavier. "Sorry about breakfast," Sammy said, "But I had to drive everybody around, and then take a shower and change--"

  "What," Rowena said, "another shower?" Sammy looked over at her and laughed, then put his fingers over her mouth.

  "Not a word of that to Melissa or her family," he said. "Not for at least a year or so."

  Rowena smiled. "So how was the rehearsal and everything?"

  "The rehearsal?" Sammy asked. "The rehearsal went fine; no disaster stories to tell. The dinner was okay, if a little boring without you there. The party . . . well, it wasn't a party you'd have wanted to crash."

  "Was it scandalous?"

  He gave a snort of laughter. "The amount certain parties had to drink was a scandal, but I think you know that already. We didn't have a sex scandal, though, because Bill assigned Pete to arrange a cake-popper or something, but Pete never got the nerve to."

  "Oh, well," said Rowena.

  "If you ask me, it's exactly what Bill wanted. He didn't have to worry about getting anybody in trouble, nobody had to pay for it, and it wasn't his fault the grand tradition wasn't upheld."

  Rowena laughed. "So did you have fun?"

  "At first, when we were reminiscing and so on. Then . . . then it wasn't so interesting, and I missed you."

  She touched his shoulder, and he leaned his head briefly against her hand.

  And he pulled up to Andy's apartment building.

  Sammy parked in the church lot, and everybody piled out of the car. Pete was there to greet them--Rowena presumed he'd borrowed somebody else's car--with a bag of sandwiches, which the groom and his attendants devoured (carefully, and leaning well forward) for the three minutes it took for the photographer to arrive. "I told you," said Will a bit irritably, "no onions!"

  "Okay," said the photographer," let's get started!" Grumbling just a bit, they found a place to stash the remains of their meal so that they could get back to it later. Sammy gave Rowena a kiss, then left her to pose for somebody else's wedding pictures and do whatever else ushers did before any guests were allowed in. Rowena watched him go, still admiring him in his tuxedo; she had never seen him in a tuxedo before. She felt a little foolish for coming with him when she wasn't a part of the morning's activities, but she had had enough of not seeing him, did not want to leave open the possibility of driving separately home in their separate cars. She watched the photography for a while; just the groom and his attendants and family, the bride still hidden somewhere. She watched for a while, feeling foolish for continuing to stand there now that she had come. She didn't want to drive anywhere, and she didn't want to stand there forever, out of place, so she decided to take a walk. As soon as Sammy looked her way again--

  He saw her. The groom was posing with just his family, and Sammy, en route to his sandwich, looked over at her. She waved, and he waved back. The photographer said something to his subjects, and Rowena left.

  She walked around the block, found a restaurant, checked her watch and went in for a cup of tea. There must be a way, she thought, sipping, to plan a wedding so that this sort of thing didn't happen. She didn't want it to happen at hers.

  At what seemed a reasonable time she went back to the church.

  "It's my turn," Bill said. "Unless you'd rather wait for Sammy."

  "Well . . ." She didn't want to make Bill look lazy, standing around talking to guests outside. But there was no sign of Sammy.

  She allowed Bill to escort her to a pew on the "Groom's Side." Rowena did not know the man next to her, and as the church filled she discovered she did not know anybody in her immediate area. She looked for Sammy's friend Mike and Mike's girlfriend, Sue, then remembered that they hadn't been able to attend. She went on looking anyway, to see if anyone else seemed familiar somehow, but of course she saw only strangers. She sat and waited. Every once in a she caught a glimpse of Sammy as he seated other guests, but of course he couldn't pay much attention to her.

  She found it hard to be properly sentimental.

  She waited.

  And waited.

  She watched Sammy sometimes, and sometimes the groom; and sometimes she watched for the bride. First the music, and the anticipation, and the bride . . . the bride would come. And here she was, in her white dress and her veil; all Rowena could see of Melissa through that veil was the long dark hair. She couldn't tell whether Melissa was nervous; she herself would be, she thought; all these people watching her do something so important. Melissa's father, walking her down the aisle, his head high, his back very straight. Would her father be so proud; would he walk so tall, protecting her one last time?

  She snuck a peek at Sammy, standing solemnly by, then returned her attention properly to the bride. The bride's father released his daughter to the groom's care and turned away, trying to look unaffected.

  Up at the altar, the bride and groom stood, waiting, alone together in front of everyone.

  The music stopped. The minister addressed them in a solemn baritone, speaking the well-known words, speaking them for real. Will and Melissa stood very still; the bridesmaids
resolutely solemn, the groomsmen very stiff. The minister spoke of love and faith and duty and patience. And promises. A lady in front of Rowena dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief. The minister spoke of family, of the couple's love for and responsibility to each other and each other's relatives, who would soon be the relatives of both. And he spoke of their love and care for any children they might have.

  The lady in front of Rowena dabbed her eyes again. The minister paused, and then began to read the marriage service.

  Rowena caught herself just briefly holding her breath--holding her breath and hoping, in that moment, that everything would go well for these people she didn't know. She wondered what would happen to them.

  She wondered what would happen to her.

  The minister's words, his question, filled the church.

  "I do," said Will quietly, looking at his bride.

  Even after the ceremony she couldn't be with Sammy right away; he had more pictures to pose for, pictures involving the bride this time. And once that was finally over and they had all gone back to the hotel for the reception, he was held back with the rest of the wedding party so that they could all make a grand entrance into the crowd. Fuss and bustle by the door. And then they swept in, not, perhaps, quite as grandly as they'd intended; but they were there, and one of them was Sammy.

  As soon as she judged it seemly, she went to him--but here he was, coming to her.

  "Hi," she said. "Miss me?" He really did look good in his tuxedo. She put her hand on his arm.

  "Actually, yes." He took hold of both her arms just above the elbows. "Did you miss me?"

  She nodded, then bent her head; he kissed the top of it. She raised her head and looked at him, but before she could say anything somebody behind her said, "Excuse me?" She turned; the woman was addressing Sammy.

  "Sam; how are you?" she said. "So good to see you, after all these years. So glad you could come."

  "Good to see you, Mrs. Douglas," Sammy replied. "And I wouldn't miss it."

  "Mrs. Douglas! Good heavens. Call me Lorna; you're old enough now."

  "Lorna. I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Rowena. Rowena, Lorna is Will's mother."

  "Nice to meet you," Rowena said. Lorna looked as if she were a bit flustered by her son's wedding, but she held Rowena's hand firmly, steadily.

  "Sam's girlfriend. So glad you could come."

  Rowena smiled. "So am I," she said. Lorna looked away, across the room.

  "She's a beautiful bride, isn't she?"

  "Yes, she is." It was an unavoidable thought; Melissa with her pale, creamy skin, just flushed with pink, her big black eyes and long black hair. It was exactly the kind of hair Rowena had wanted when she was little.

  "And such a sweet girl." Rowena looked at her; Lorna seemed a bit embarrassed by her confession, but she continued anyway. "I'm so happy; she's the daughter I never had."

  "Well, you've got her now."

  "I have!" Lorna cried. "I'm a mother-in-law! Of all things."

  "A nice mother-in-law," Sammy said. "A good one."

  "Oh, thank you! I hope so." She looked past them, around at the room. "Looks like we're getting underway here. Let's get you two seated."

  She found a place for Rowena at a table with several of Will's friends and a cousin or two, and then spirited Sammy away to the head table, where most of the wedding party already sat. Rowena looked a little forlornly at Sammy, so far away again with old friends of his she barely knew. Romantic, indeed, she thought. She wondered whether the groom's mother was supposed to be seating people--she could see Lorna across the room, still at it--and concluded that, as Sammy might say, no one was stopping her. And of course she would want to get the reception dinner started, and to meet people, however briefly . . .

  The guests at Rowena's table chatted among themselves, stealing occasional glances at the head table, where the wedding party sat a bit self-consciously. Rowena tried to join in the conversation around her. Like the rest of them, she kept looking at the wedding party; unlike them, she was mostly watching Sammy. Sometimes Sammy was looking back at her; when he was, he smiled. On a few occasions her gaze drifted over to the pile of gifts; she thought she could just see the box containing the champagne flutes she and Sammy had bought. She remembered Sammy in the store, saying, "I think romance is very important." She looked at him again, so handsome in his tuxedo, and he turned as if he could feel her looking, and even from where she sat she could feel the warmth in his eyes.

  And her food arrived.

  "Calling all single women! Single women! Come on, don't be shy! We're doing the bouquet!"

  "Here's your chance to do your daughterly duty," someone at her table said. Rowena wasn't even sure he was talking to her, but she gave him a quick, rather defiant look (and found he was indeed looking at her) and pushed back her chair. She stopped just a moment and looked to Sammy for support; he smiled again at her, and gave her what she took to be a "good luck" nod.

  There were quite a few of them; teenagers, young women like Rowena, women older than she, a few women who were her mother's age, and one good-natured elderly lady who was loudly cheered by younger relatives. Rowena wasn't sure whether to feel foolish or not; it was a superstition, but it was also an old tradition. She waited nervously; she was surprised at how nervous she felt.

  The bride smiled at them all, then turned her back. She hesitated a moment, then threw. The bouquet sailed up and out--coming nowhere near Rowena, nowhere near her at all. There was a flurry, and an excited-looking girl with wild hair emerged triumphant.

  "Better luck next time, Aunt Jenny!" somebody yelled. The little old lady waved. The unmarried women, Rowena included, drifted back to their seats. At least she hadn't made a fool of herself, jumping at it and missing. Although, even if she had, she would only have been fulfilling the tradition.

  "Single men! It's your turn! Block the exits, somebody; don't let them get away." Snickers all around. "Come on, guys; it's time to meet your doom."

  As if men always had to be forced into marriage. Sammy smiled at her again as he stood and walked to where the single men were assembling. Rowena watched him go, then watched Will carefully remove the garter from his wife's leg.

  "Raymond! Get up here! Come on, people, help me out; who else here is unhitched?" Fingers pointed in three directions; one of the holdouts was at Rowena's own half-empty table. "Come on! No shirking. Get your eligible backsides up here."

  "Good grief," said somebody nearby.

  Eventually the guests were satisfied that all the single men were assembled up front, and herded together closely enough ("No outlyers! Come on, guys!"), and Will, garter in hand, surveyed them a moment and turned his back.

  The garter flew into the crowd; Sammy was one of the few to make a grab for it but he wasn't quite close enough. A cry of "Yea, Paul!" went up, and there was scattered applause and a whoop or two. Sammy, in returning to his seat, made a detour over to Rowena.

  "Sorry about that," he said. "You can tell your mother I tried, though."

  "I'm not telling her anything of the kind," Rowena said. Sammy laughed. "Anyway, it's just as well you didn't catch it. You might have had to marry the girl who caught the bouquet."

  "Tracy?" asked one of the cousins--a male cousin. "Naw; you don't want to do that."

  "Todd!" His wife gave him one of those little slaps on the arm.

  "You think he should, Connie? Leave his girlfriend and--"

  "I didn't mean that either. Really, Todd!"

  "Another problem with marrying Tracy, with which my wife might just agree." Todd leaned in conspiratorially towards Sammy. "You're probably better off not marrying into this family."

  "I won't comment on that," Connie said.

  "Actually, the in-laws Sammy would get if he married me... I think he's brave just to date me." Rowena checked herself; she didn't want to be coaxed into telling any more stories about her parents or her sister.

  "Now, now," Sammy said. He put a hand on her shoulder, massa
ged it gently. "They don't make me kill dragons; they don't make me fight evil witches--"

  "Terese might argue with you on that last one."

  "Terese isn't here." Sammy gave her a squeeze. "Anyway, she's not the one who--"

  "I think you're wanted," interrupted Todd. He nodded towards the head table, where the rest of the wedding party had already reassembled, and where two or three people were waving and making "come here" gestures. Sammy bent quickly and kissed Rowena's temple, then went to take what other people, at least, considered to be his proper seat.

  Without warning, the band struck up a waltz. Rowena turned to watch the bride and groom dance their first dance as Mr. and Mrs. Douglas. Round and round; Melissa's full white skirts and Will's trim tuxedo.