Mama Gets Hitched

by Deborah Sharp

  “Teensy’s a hit,” Marty whispered.

  I nodded. “Having him as the ring bearer wasn’t as idiotic as I thought.”

  Next came the flower girl, D’Vora’s four-year-old, L’Donna. She scattered white rose petals by the fistful, tossing them so energetically that some of the guests in aisle seats ducked. A constellation of camera flashes captured the adorable sight.

  And then, the processional music fell silent. A hush came over the crowd. There was a dramatic pause. Just as Mama entered the hall, the familiar strains of “Here Comes the Bride” resounded. Heads turned. A collective gasp ensued. People stood and craned their necks to get a better view.

  Mama looked like a fairy tale princess. And if her prince was a fast-talking, three-hundred-pound tough guy from the Bronx, so what? The moment was perfect. Until Aunt Ida hissed to her son from the second row: “You did not tell me Rosalee intended to wear white, Henry. That takes some nerve.”

  There were snickers, amid a shush or two. Mama bobbled the slightest bit. Sal blew her a kiss, covering a burp at the same time. Then she threw back her shoulders, held her veiled head high, and climbed the steps to the stage.

  “Ida’s going to pay for that,” Maddie said between clenched teeth.

  “I might toss the witch into a vat of potato salad myself,” Marty vowed under her breath.

  But there’d be no potato salad at Mama’s wedding. C’ndee put together a menu of fingerling potatoes and roasted asparagus to go with the prime rib. Very classy! Of course, Mama insisted that fried catfish with hush puppies be the alternative selection to red meat. We weren’t going to stray too far from our Himmarshee roots.

  The music ended. The Reverend Delilah started in with preaching. Mercifully, she was moving right along, holding to her promise to keep the service short. My feet already felt like somebody cut them in half with a circular saw and stuffed them into two lime-green sausage casings. Trying to distract myself from excruciating high-heel pain, I looked out into the crowd.

  I saw Linda-Ann, looking pretty in a hot pink dress. Where was Trevor? Rabe sat beside Linda-Ann. He’d changed out of his overalls, and cleaned up surprisingly well. His stepfather, Darryl, was nowhere in sight. Just before Delilah got to the vows, Alice Hodges slipped in near the rear of the hall, wearing pink pastel. I nudged each of my sisters with an elbow.

  “Pssst, look at Alice.”

  “Wow!” Marty breathed.

  “Like a new woman,” Maddie agreed.

  Glaring at us from a chair at the side wall, C’ndee lifted a scolding finger to her lips.

  I returned my attention to the ceremony, and heard Delilah wrapping up with a verse from Ephesians: “And be ye kind to one another, tender-hearted, forgiving one another …”

  Then it was Sal’s turn to recite the lines he’d been rehearsing for weeks:

  Rosalee, I knew from the second I saw you I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. You inspire me. You challenge me to be the best man I can be. I promise to love you forever, to respect you and honor you. This is my solemn vow.

  His Bronx honk was so loud, a few guests put discreet fingers to their ears. We suspected he downloaded his vows off the Internet, but that didn’t lessen my appreciation of his enthusiasm.

  Next, it was Mama’s turn:

  Sal, you make me feel special. You treat me like gold. And, best of all, you put up with me. She was interrupted here by knowing chuckles. You’ve embraced my friends and family, and my hometown. You even love Teensy—the dog barked as he heard his name, eliciting more laughter. I promise to cherish you eternally, to love, honor and respect you. This is my solemn vow.

  After the ring exchange, Delilah linked hands with Mama and her groom. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. Sal, you may kiss the bride.”

  As the minister stepped away, Sal lifted Mama’s veil. She offered her cheek for a chaste peck. Instead, Sal grabbed her and bent her backward into a deep dip. Very Rhett of him. He planted a long, wet kiss on his beloved’s lips. When they finally came up for air, the VFW erupted in whistles and cheers.

  As Mr. and Mrs. Sal Provenza stepped to the edge of the stage to take their bows, I saw only a few members of the audience who were not fully engaged. Aunt Ida sat forward primly, wearing a lemon-sucking frown. Linda-Ann seemed distracted, turning her head repeatedly to check the back door. And instead of watching the bride and groom on stage, Alice Hodges directed a gaze full of spite at the side of the room.

  Her eyes were on C’ndee, who was standing now, clapping and whooping.

  “Are you angry at me?”

  Arriving late, Carlos had snuck up behind me. His lips were so close to my ear, I felt his breath hot on my neck. It ignited images in my traitorous mind of us tumbling together on the bed at Darryl’s Fish Camp.

  “Not just angry. Totally pissed off.” I didn’t turn around. “Where’s your blond sidekick? I thought maybe y’all would come to the wedding together and heckle Mama as she took her first dance with Sal. Or maybe it’d be funny to toss rotten tomatoes at them as they cut their pretty cake.”

  “Mace, I’m sorry.” When I still didn’t turn my head, he stroked a ringlet that lay next to my cheek. My skin burned where his finger brushed it. “As a target, you and your Gone with the Wind get-up were far too easy. I should have shown more restraint.”

  “Restraint would have been nice.”

  “I’ll make it up to you, niña.” He stepped in front of my chair. “How about you let me uncurl your hair? I’ll brush it out, nice and slow. Nice and slow. Then I’ll give you the best shampoo you’ve ever had. I’ll make it last as long as you want.”

  Black eyes. Sexy smile. A snazzy dark suit that draped perfectly across his broad chest. My treacherous will was weakening.

  “You wouldn’t want to wash my hair in that suit. It looks expensive. You might get it wet.”

  He trailed a finger from my cheek, down my neck, and under the ruffled strap of my lime-green gown. My skin tingled.

  “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t wear the suit. That way I won’t have to concern myself about it getting wet.” He gave my strap a little tug. “But you’ll have to take off all your clothes, too. We wouldn’t want to ruin this beautiful dress.”

  My desire for him was about to betray me. Again. I wondered if the warm feeling spreading through my lower regions was making the ruffles on my skirt quiver. And I wondered if anyone was using that manager’s office in the back of the hall.

  “Well?” He leaned in close, his lips just inches from mine. “What do you say about that shower?”

  “My shower?” Mama stood beside us, seemingly clueless about the conversation she’d walked in on. “My shower was perfect, Carlos. We had a singing cowboy.”

  He straightened and took a step away. I looked up from my chair at Mama. A worried frown creased her brow.

  “Have you seen Sal? I can’t find him anywhere.”

  I took what I hoped was a steadying breath. I was still conscious of the heat from Carlos’ body beside me. “Sal wasn’t feeling well before the ceremony, Mama.”

  “Nerves,” she announced knowingly. “They always hit him right in the bowels.”

  “Too much information, Mama.”

  “Well, they do, darlin.’ He’s probably sitting on the pot in the bathroom right now.”

  She peered more closely at Carlos and me; seemed to notice for the first time the flush on my face, and his hands stuck deep in his pockets. The DJ played Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon.” Mama’s matchmaking mode kicked in.

  “My, my,” she said. “You look like a million dollars in that suit, Carlos. Doesn’t he, Mace?”

  “No, Mama.”

  He lifted an eyebrow at me.

  I smiled. “He looks like two million dollars.”

  Encouraged, Mama said, “We’ll be opening the champagne soon. This would be the perfect time for the two of you to have a dance.” She gave him a little push toward me. “And Carlos, make sure you stick right bes
ide Mace. You won’t want to go anywhere near that men’s room for at least fifteen minutes after you see Sal step out.”

  “Thanks for the tip.”

  “You’re welcome, honey. I heard y’all arrested Tony. I’d never have believed it. He had such good manners.” Waving at someone across the room, Mama began to glide away. “Go dance!” she said over her shoulder.

  “What do you say, niña? Shall we do like your mother says?”

  His eyes smoldered. His voice was low and caressing. I had a better plan: tear off that suit, sweep away the place settings, and have my way with him right there on the table for eight. But a dance would have to do. I gave him my hand.

  “I have to do what she says. This is Mama’s Special Day.”

  As we spun onto the floor, I nestled comfortably into his arms. This, at least, felt right. We might scrap and argue, but I couldn’t deny the physical attraction. It was like a drug. And what about the rest of it, the more complicated aspects of our relationship?

  To borrow a line from Scarlett O’Hara: I’ll think about that tomorrow.

  I kissed him on the cheek.

  “What was that for?”

  “Just for being here,” I said.

  We continued dancing to the next song, too. “At Last,” the classic Etta James version. I was acutely aware of Carlos’ delicious, spicy scent; his body pressed against mine. I figured I’d better get my mind on something else, or those china place settings on the table weren’t safe.

  I looked out the window, where the sun was beginning its downward trek through the sky. It wouldn’t be long now before Sal and Mama made their exit as husband and wife. I saw his Cadillac, fully decorated and tied with tin cans, courtesy of his groomsmen. A gleaming, vintage muscle car was parked just beyond the Caddy. Could that possibly be the rusting hulk from the fish camp? If so, Rabe had worked wonders in record time.

  Then, a scene next to the Camaro caught my eye.

  Linda-Ann stood there in her hot pink party dress. Trevor towered over her, wearing beige coveralls. Shaking her head, she backed away. Trevor, his face red and contorted, waved his arms wildly. He looked like he was shouting, but I didn’t hear the words since the hall’s windows were closed, the AC was cranked on high, and the music was loud.

  He grabbed her arm; she pulled it away. That seemed to antagonize him even more. He raised a clenched fist, like he was going to hit her. But Linda-Ann stood up to him. Her face was inches from his as she shook her finger and gave him hell. Now, Trevor was the one backing up, surprise written all over his face. She turned and stalked back toward the VFW. He stared after her, his mouth hanging open.

  I was about to ask Carlos what he thought about Trevor, and his potential for violence, when we spun away from the window. My gaze settled on Ronnie’s widow, solitary in that cone of sorrow again. She sat at an otherwise empty table, staring into a full glass of what looked like bourbon. Was it grief and loneliness she was trying to drink away? Or was it something else?

  Another turn, and I saw C’ndee and Rabe, huddled together in a far corner of the dining room. Maybe they were cooking up something that would focus suspicion on Darryl for Ronnie’s murder. I was almost certain Tony didn’t kill the caterer. Which left the question: Who did?

  The song ended. Sliding his hand to the small of my back, Carlos pressed me close. “A peso for your thoughts, Mace.”

  “I was just thinking about Ronnie …”

  Before I got the chance to finish, Mama took the microphone from the DJ at the foot of the stage. As she tap-tap-tapped, people covered their ears at the noise pain.

  “Listen up, everybody. We’re going to serve the champagne now. But before we do, I just want to say how grateful I am that all of you could be here with us.” Her eyes found my sisters and me in the crowd. She blew us each a kiss. “All my favorite people in the world are here, and it’s only fitting that y’all will share Sal’s and my Special Day.”

  She dabbed her eyes with a cornflower-colored handkerchief she carried as the bride’s “something blue.” Sniffling a little, she cleared her throat.

  “Now, C’ndee’s going to start opening bottles and the servers will pour and pass.” She raised her voice, aiming it toward the bathrooms way back in the far reaches of the hall. “I surely hope by that time, my new husband will be here to join me on stage.”

  A muffled bellow issued from behind the closed door of the Men’s: “Don’t worry! I’ll be there, Rosie.”

  Amid laughter, the first pop of a champagne bottle sounded. The crowd cheered. And then pop, pop, pop. The servers quickly loaded glasses onto trays and began making a circuit of the room. They handed out sparkling wine, pink of course, until all the guests held a glass. “Don’t forget the bride and groom,” Mama said into the microphone.

  With a flourish, C’ndee draped a white linen napkin across her arm and pulled out a final bottle. It was festooned with a showy bow of celadon tulle and white satin ribbons. She wiggled and worked at the plastic cork. Everyone watched. She hammed it up, raising the bottle, smiling.

  “Best wishes to the married couple, from the best caterer in Himmarshee,” she shouted.

  Then C’ndee gave a mighty pull, and finally: Pop!

  Almost at the instant I registered that this bottle popped more loudly than the rest, C’ndee flinched and clutched at her side. She slumped over. The bottle clattered to the floor, its contents spilling out in a fizzy pink stream.

  And slowly a red stain blossomed across the white linen napkin that still hung on C’ndee’s arm.

  “Call an ambulance,” someone shouted. “C’ndee’s been shot!”

  Women screamed. Teensy howled. Chairs overturned. Guests scrambled for the door or ducked for cover under tables. The DJ sailed off the stage, knocking the pastor’s lectern onto the dance floor. Gun drawn, Carlos guided me as we crouched behind it. His eyes scanned the room. So did mine.

  I’d lost sight of Mama and my sisters. Several tables had been flipped onto their sides. I prayed they’d have the good sense to hide behind one of them.

  “Everyone remain calm. I’m with the police.” Carlos’ voice was loud, carrying over the strains of “YMCA” on the sound system. Someone wisely yanked the plug on the Village People. “Stay down and stay safe. Nobody move.”

  I heard some sobs. A few whimpers. A muffled bark.

  And then I saw a flash of pink, the only upright body in the place, moving toward the kitchen door and the exit beyond. “Back of the room by the prime rib,” I whispered to Carlos. “Eleven o’clock.”

  “Stop!” He spun toward the moving figure, his voice crackling with authority. “Police!”

  Alice Hodges hesitated for a second. And then she reached behind a fake silk dogwood and hauled out the hiding bride. Gun held now against Mama’s head, Alice dragged her backward into the center of the room. Oddly, what I noticed was Mama’s four-foot train, trailing through pieces of prime rib and jus that had spilled onto the floor from the carving table. If Mama got out of this mess, she’d be mad about that. But at this moment, terrified was all she was. Her eyes were huge; her face as white as her gown. If, as Mama had said, the Lord was going to smile down on her wedding today, I prayed he’d get started soon.

  Alice waved the gun around the room, getting everyone’s attention. “If anybody tries to stop me from leaving, I’ll kill Rosalee.”

  None of us doubted she would.

  Time seemed to have stopped. But in reality, only a few moments had passed since the gunshot sounded. I hoped someone had dialed 911 before Alice showed herself. I glanced toward C’ndee, who sat slumped against Rabe on the floor behind one of the tables. His arm was around her, holding her up. The red stain was growing on the napkin.

  The hall was as hushed as a church. Whoever had Teensy must have muzzled him. All eyes focused on Mama, but surely not in the way she would have wanted. Suddenly, she squared her shoulders. Then she turned, ever so slowly, to look into the face of the woman who threatened to sh
oot her.

  “You can’t do this, Alice.” I was proud of Mama. Her voice barely shook. “We’ve been neighbors. Friends. You’ve worshipped beside me. The Bible says one burdened with the guilt of murder will be a fugitive down to the grave. You know what the Lord wants you to do. Put down that gun.”

  Alice shook her head. “It’s too late, Rosalee. Things have gotten out of hand.”

  Carlos motioned for me to stay; then he started inching his way across the floor toward Alice. Of course, I followed right behind him, crawling on my belly, and hoping my giant skirt stayed hidden behind a row of overturned tables. Fleetingly, I realized slithering through spilled wine and food and who knows what else on the floor would ruin the Scarlett gown forever. I had no idea why, but I felt sad about that.

  With a plea in her voice, Mama continued, “It’s never too late to do the right thing.”

  “You’re wrong, Rosalee. At this point, I have nothing to lose. All I wanted to do was protect our livelihood. That fool husband of mine was finally starting to make a go of it, when she entered the scene.”

  Face flushed with rage, Alice pointed the gun to where C’ndee had fallen.

  “She made him happy, Ronnie said. That fool thought the Yankee bitch loved him.” Alice shook her head, incredulous. “That morning in the VFW’s kitchen, he told me he wasn’t too old to want happiness. He was going to leave me and share our business with her.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t let that happen. The knife was right there. It was like a sign.”

  “So you killed Ronnie because you were jealous of C’ndee?”

  Alice’s laugh was a harsh cackle. “Not in the way you think, Rosalee. I couldn’t have cared less about the fornicating. I was jealous about them going into business together. And, then, once the deed was done with Ronnie, once he was out of the way, I knew I didn’t want her as my business rival.” She glanced in C’ndee’s direction. “You heard her crowing just now, bragging about how good she is. I had to shoot her. You eliminate the competition, by whatever means necessary. That’s the most basic rule of commerce.”