Though Marvin could detect the slightest edge of annoyance in her tone every so often, Jenna no longer argued about the wedding, she only shook her head and said, “Are you sure you want to do this, Marv? I don’t get it.”
When the day came to leave for Sandy Cay, she calmly went along though she still hadn’t agreed to marry him.
-35-
Well past midnight, with the rest of his fellow travelers below deck in their cabins, Tommy stood alone at the bow of the “borrowed” schooner. In his usual attire, which was to say naked, he scanned the eastern shore of the tiny island they’d visited twice over the months since Marvin’s death. The sails lowered and the ship slowed, and then dropped anchor. A sense of happiness settled over him; one he’d never known at any other moment of his life, alive or dead. He breathed in the fresh salt air and smiled.
He looked out over the small bay. A sailboat floated, moored a bit to the south, closer in to the sandy beach. Though the three-quarter moon had already passed to the west, thousands of stars made it so bright you could read a book. He squinted, trying to see the lettering on the stern, but he still couldn’t make out the name. “Huh. And here we thought we’d have the place to ourselves for a day.”
Not that it mattered since most of the living couldn’t see or hear them. But, it wouldn’t be long — another couple of days — before the entire island would be surrounded by yachts and sailboats and schooners of all shapes and sizes, anchored in rows twenty deep, filled with deadheads from around the globe who’d be there to witness something that hadn’t occurred in millennia, if ever. Even Jason couldn’t remember a marriage between two deadheads taking place and he’d been around for more centuries than any of them could fathom.
Tommy had to admit, at first he didn’t think it would happen. So many things had occurred over the past year to foil the plans; the biggest, of course, had been the trouble Jenna and Diane had stirred up. If that had turned out differently … He shivered at the thought. Then there had been Jenna’s continued refusal to discuss even the smallest of wedding details, which, after being summoned before the North American Council of Keepers, turned to an odd sort of peaceful apathy. But, it appeared everything was in order. With his very own eyes, he’d seen the cotillion of organizers Davy had assembled and heard them confirm the plans one by one. In Davy’s words, this indeed promised to be “An event.”
Though there still was more than a sliver of doubt Jenna would go through with the wedding. Tommy shrugged and made his way to the hammock strung along the bow of the ship; his favorite place. He laid his head back and closed his eyes. The sound of the waves lapping against the side of the boat lulled him to sleep.
Hours later, a young couple stood on the beach, hands shielding their eyes from the rising sun, and peered out over the expanse of ocean to the small ship.
“Well, that’s kind of weird, don’t you think?” Evan’s quiet tone matched the serenity of the light morning breeze.
Vicky shrugged and nudged her companion with an elbow. “Why?”
“The cruise lines don’t usually use this place during off-season.” The man dropped his hand and turned to the woman. “I’m sorry, honey. I really thought we’d have the place to ourselves. So much for having a honeymoon on our own tropic isle, huh?” he asked, heaving a mournful sigh.
“It’s okay. I think the place is big enough we can still enjoy ourselves without being disturbed.” Still watching, Vicky took a sudden, quick step backward. “Did you see that?”
Evan turned his face toward the schooner. “What?”
She pointed toward the bow. “There was a splash in the water. You know, like someone just dove in.”
“Yeah, so?”
“But I didn’t see anyone on board, or jump or anything. Do you see anyone out there?”
Evan took a few steps into the water. “You must be seeing things. Nobody’s in the water.” He adjusted the aim of his gaze. “There isn’t even anyone on deck. Maybe it was a dolphin.” With that, he turned and began walking along the edge of the water, his feet washed by the small waves rolling in.
Vicky alternated watching her new husband and peering out at the small schooner. A short while later she called out to him. “Uh, Evan … Evan! There’s something creepy about that thing.”
He’d barely made out her words, but he turned to the sound of her voice and called out. “Why? Honey, it’s just a boat.”
“Then why is one of the lifeboats being lowered into the water?”
“You think maybe because they’re planning on bringing passengers out to the beach. What’s the big deal, Vicky?”
“With nobody on it?” She brushed away a large hank of her brown hair that had blown into her face. “I don’t like this. It doesn’t feel right. Seriously, Ev, do you have your glasses?”
Evan pulled his glasses from their perpetual perch at the front of his shirt, put them on and stared out over the waves for a moment. “There’s got to be someone in it. Boats don’t row themselves. You just can’t see them because the sun’s glaring too much.”
“Boats don’t row without oars either, but this one is definitely moving this way.” Vicky ran to his side and pulled on his arm. “Come on, let’s go back to the tent.”
“What for?”
“To pack up so we can get out of here!”
Evan turned her away from the water and wrapped his arms around her. “Vicky, honey, calm down, it’s just a boat with people on it.”
“Yeah, Vicky,” Tommy stated, walking up out of the water. “We might be dead, but we’re still people.” Sea water ran from his long hair and dripped from the short pants he’d put on after Marvin had pestered him to no end during breakfast. He moved behind Evan and shook a hunk of seaweed from one foot. It landed on the beach with a wet splat.
Water trickled from midair like some odd circular waterfall splashing to the wet sand. The seaweed put icing on the chill that ran down her spine. Vicky opened her mouth and let out a blood-curdling scream.
Evan’s eyes grew big behind the lenses of his glasses, his mouth gaped open like a fish desperate for the water.
The couple took off running to their tent, which stood under a copse of palm trees at the crest of the island. Jenna still stood in neck-high water because she hadn’t wanted to add to the young girl’s fright. “Tommy, that was just downright mean.”
“Sorry, Jenna,” Tommy said through laughter. “I couldn’t help it. It’s just that it’s damn near impossible for me to pass up an opportunity like that. Besides, better to have them leave now than wake up tomorrow to an ocean of empty ships.” He thought for a minute. “Well, empty to them, anyway.”
Marvin swam up beside Jenna and then walked in purposeful strides to the shore where he smiled, winked, and for Jenna’s benefit, smacked Tommy through the backside of his head. “Ya schmuck.”
“Dude …” Tommy grinned. “Ouch.”
Marvin turned to gaze down the beach. “This was a great idea Davy had. I’m telling you, I could stay here forever. Where the hell is everyone?”
Tommy tapped his shoulder and pointed in the opposite direction at the nearing dinghy. “The spoilsports are landing.”
Nancy, Mike, Dennis, Connie, Diane, and Carla clambered out, and Mike and Dennis pulled the boat up onto the sand to anchor it. They all turned when a duet of loud, frightened screams rose to unheard-of decibels. The group of deadheads stood and watched the mayhem.
Leaving the tent half disassembled, the couple grabbed a duffle bag each and ran, their feet barely disturbing the fine, white sand. They slung the bags overhead and waded to the small sailboat, tossed the bags on board, and scrambled up. Evan’s shouted orders carried across the water. “Pull the anchor, pull the anchor.”
“I’m trying, it’s stuck on something!”
Evan pushed his wife out of the way, grabbed the crank and turned with all his might. The tautness popped loose and he slipped onto his backside.
Vicky reached down to help him up. “What happened, are
you okay?”
Evan waved her off and shot a quick look toward the beach where trunks suddenly popped into view on the sand because Dennis and Mike had already gotten bored with watching the fleeing couple. “Holy crap! Go raise the sail! Raise the sail!”
With the anchor up, sails rising and beginning to fill with the breeze, Evan disappeared into the small cabin. The sound of the engine trickled over the distance and, less than five minutes later, the deadheads watched the stern become a dot on the horizon as the boat headed out to sea.
“And you thought I scared them with a tiny midair waterfall and a little kelp,” Tommy said still doubled over in laughter.
-36-
Early the next morning, six small ships could be seen riding the gentle waves of the bay. Under Davy’s strict instruction, their transport dinghies made trek after trek ferrying supplies to the leeward beach.
He ran over to a group of men in cargo shorts and t-shirts unloading a skiff. “What the hell are these? No, no, no! We’ve got to get the tents and canopy in place first.” An exasperated sigh escaped and he poked a thumb over his shoulder. “Stack those chairs up on the crest.”
Tommy, who had been awake for hours in excited anticipation, signaled to the men. “He means up here, guys,” he hollered and headed down to the water’s edge.
Davy turned to him. “Why can’t anyone do anything right the first time? I swear I’m gonna have a heart attack and keel over before this is over, and we just got started.”
“Dude, that already happened.” Tommy laughed and hugged him. “But it’s going to be beautiful — exactly what we wanted.”
“You think? Oh, honey, I hope so. If these people would stick to the plan I laid out for them,” Davy yelled, and waving his arms headed off to chastise another group.
The commotion of deadheads barking orders to one another and the pounding of hammers to erect the canopies for the ceremony carried across the water to the schooner and woke the remainder of the wedding party. One by one they showed up and stood at the bow of the ship like a row of miscast mastheads. Sipping coffee, they watched Davy run from place to place, his flailing arms gestured wildly, pulled at his hair, and his shouted obscenities drifted out to sea.
Marvin raised his coffee mug toward the beach. “If he’s not careful, there’s going to be a mutiny.”
“Well, why don’t you go see if there’s anything you can do to help?” Mike asked, leaning out over the rail past Carla and Connie, who stood between him and Marvin.
“Me? What could I do? I’m an advertising executive, not a wedding planner.”
“Well, Brody, for once in your life, you could get sweaty and dirty. A little bit of physical labor isn’t going to kill you, you know.”
“Very funny, Mike. But, oh, hell no. Not me. One out-of-place petal on a flower and Davy would take my head off,” Marv grunted. Tommy ran across the crest of the dune drawing Marvin’s attention to his empty stomach. “What’re we supposed to do for breakfast, if the hippie is over there?”
Mike chuckled. “Oh, for cryin’ out loud, Brody, you never were capable of fending for yourself, were you? Tommy brought three dozen bagels from the deli; go stuff one in your craw.”
Marvin’s demeanor brightened considerably and a smile broke over his face. He turned to make his way to the stern and stopped. “Is there any cream cheese left? Can’t have a bagel without a schmear.”
Mike threw a friendly punch that swiped through Marvin’s bicep and held out an empty mug. “Here, take this back to the galley, would you?”
Marvin took the cup. “Sure, I guess. You going somewhere?”
“Over there to see if I can help.” Mike pulled his shirt off, dropped it to the deck, crawled up onto the rail and dove into the water.
By the time the sun went down that evening in a particularly spectacular flash of green on the windward side where they all stood, the island had been transformed. The trunk of every palm tree had been wrapped in tiny white lights. Waves crashing onto the sand muffled the low hum of generators that had been hidden in the trees at the center of the speck of land.
In the gloaming of the fading sunlight, outlines of the reception tents took on an eerie aura as the tiny bulbs on the corners and ridges glowed. The canvas walls had been pulled back to the corner posts like draperies revealing twenty-five round tables, each surrounded by ten chairs covered in white linen with sashes of teal and black satin. White silk table cloths were adorned with black runners, all secured by clear plastic clips. A single frosted globe light hung over each table, highlighting centerpieces of multi-colored Birds of Paradise. The platinum edges of the Limoges porcelain plates glimmered; silver and gold flatware and Waterford crystal glasses sparkled.
Almost all of the deadheads from the six ships stood in the sand next to an unusually quiet Davy, who stood with arms crossed, chin propped on his right fist the way it always was when studying his handiwork. His brows knit and loosened as he made mental notes of what still needed to be tended to. He gave one short nod of approval and smiled. “Okay. I think we got a good start on things.” He turned to a burly guy a few feet to his right. “Go ahead and kill the lights, Stephen.”
Tommy pouted. “It’s all so gorgeous. Do we have to?”
“Only if you want enough fuel to run everything for the event.”
A collective, drawn out “Awwww” rose from the ghostly crowd when the generators shut down.
Mike called out to the group. “Come on, everyone, dinner has been laid out down on the beach over here. It’s time to get this party started!”
“No drinking,” Davy yelled as deadheads swarmed past him.
Tommy jabbed him with an elbow and asked in an incredulous tone, “What?”
“Well … okay.” Davy pointed an index finger at the backs of his workers. “But nobody better get drunk. I swear, if one —”
Tommy wrapped an arm around Davy’s shoulder. “It’s going to be perfect. Nothing could ruin this. After all, look who planned it.”
“You think?” Davy thought for a moment then broke into a huge smile. “Yeah, you’re right.”
The two of them walked toward the bright sounds of reggae music emanating from the beach. Half way down the rise, Davy stopped and turned around to look at things one more time and grinned. “Yep. Di is going to wish I’d been alive to do hers.”
Over the next two days, more and more guests arrived. The waters surrounding the island had become a sea of ships, from small four-berth sailboats to huge yachts. The America, a four-mast ship out of Key West, stood out among the rest as the morning sun glistened off the gold trim and lettering of its gleaming black hull. Tongues wagged and engendered wagers about who might be on it. The captain, the only living soul aboard and not one to question orders to sail to this small island, anchor, and stay put for three days, laid out a selection of fine liquor at the bow to wait out the stay; in a drunken stupor, if need be, to stave off boredom.
“I don’t care who it is,” Davy stood under the wedding canopy and declared. “Nobody steps foot on this place until I say it’s ready.”
He looked out and studied his handiwork. At the very northern tip of the island he could see smoke rising from the vented top of the food tent, though the aroma couldn’t tantalize him since it drifted eastward out to the open sea. The orchestra’s bandstand, framed with stage lights, stood a bit higher on the incline. Because Davy had been told about the Judy Garland concert Tommy had taken Mike and Marvin to the previous year, the drummer’s platform rose above the levels for the other musicians, and Davy hoped Marvin would be pleased and impressed with the surprise. In front of the bandstand were two pavilions large enough to accommodate one-hundred people on each of their dance floors. Stretching from those up to the canopy where he stood, and running the width of the island, were all the tents with tables for dining and relaxing. To the south, a four foot wide lighted path ran along the ridge line down to a tiny beach on the leeward side where, since there was no father to give her
away, Jenna would walk alone to the strains of a pre-recorded wedding march. That is, provided someone convinced her to go through with it. Guests fanned out across the sand would have to stand to watch; not that anyone grumbled. This was History being made; well, Deadhead History, anyway.
Late in the afternoon as finishing touches were placed on the preparations, Davy caught sight of Versace arriving at the tiny south spit of sand in a small launch and rushed down to help him disembark.
“The island is surrounded, it was quite the job maneuvering through them all,” Gianni said, handing off Jenna’s gown, and the tan linen bridesmaids dresses and tuxedos he’d instructed Davy find.
Davy’s smile brightened. “I’d apologize, but I told you this was going to be big.” He escorted the designer to a small tent where Jenna and her bridesmaids waited, and left to round up Marvin and the guys. Davy pointed to a small clearing. “Right over there, boys.”
“What, no changing room?” Mike asked.
“Honey, if there’s one thing you aren’t, it’s bashful. Now, I hope I can trust you to get into these by yourselves,” Davy said, hurrying off back the way he came. By the time he parted the entrance to the women’s dressing tent the sight took his breath away. Too stunned for flapping, his hands rose to his mouth in a delighted gasp.
“So, you must be pleased, yes?” Gianni gestured to the gown.
“Sweetie, you are gorgeous,” Davy said to a grim-faced Jenna, and smiled at Versace. “I knew it. I knew you had to be the one to do this.”
The bodice of the gown was made with a cream-colored silk. Jenna’s auburn hair fell to her shoulders in flowing waves and glowed; her green eyes lit up, despite the dubious expression. The scooping cowl-style neckline, with threads of hand-stitched interwoven gold, draped from the tips of her shoulders and down across her breasts leaving ample cleavage, yet below her bosom it clung to her body. And, true to his word, Versace had designed the gathered-waist skirt so it draped in gentle folds that ended above the knee. The secret transformation to a wedding gown was in the undetectable overlay to the skirt. The hem matched in front and got longer as it cascaded to the back where it barely brushed the sand at her sandal clad feet, each fold a perfect match to the skirt. A five-foot long, delicate Italian lace train attached at her shoulders, held in place by a diamond encrusted gold chain, and a familiar-looking large blue sapphire surrounded by diamond baguettes dropped from her throat.
[Jenna's] Gang of Deadheads Page 17
