Confessions of a Wedding Musician Mom

by Jennifer McCoy Blaske

“Then just find another picture in the book to color,” I said to Danny.

  “But I’m bored with coloring,” Danny said.

  Ms. Reese was still talking to Bridget in a hushed voice. This was not good.

  “Fine,” I said, “then play with the trucks you brought.”

  “What trucks?”

  My eyes flitted over to Bridget and her mother, then back to Danny. “You were playing with some trucks right before we left,” I said through clenched teeth. “I told you to bring them.”

  Danny looked puzzled. “You did?”

  Angela looked up from her princess picture. “You didn’t tell him to bring them. You told him he could bring them if he wanted to.”

  “Yeah!” Danny looked like he still had no idea what was going on, but he was happy to hear that he was somehow right.

  “Thank you, Angela,” I said grimly.

  “Sure!” she squeaked as she went back to coloring.

  Ms. Reese grimaced at me. “Perhaps we should do this another time,” she said sharply.

  “Oh no, Mom!” Bridget cried. She looked hurt. “My flight home is tomorrow afternoon, and anyway, we’re all here right now. It’d be silly to leave.”

  “Perhaps we should consider other options,” Ms. Reese murmured to Bridget. “Remember how we talked earlier about possibly hiring a string quartet?”

  Bridget shook her head quickly. “Oh no. I really want to have piano music. And anyway, a string quartet is so much more expensive.”

  “We have the money,” Ms. Reese told her.

  She said that a little too quickly, I thought.

  “Mom!” Bridget hissed, jerking her head in my direction.

  “Well, fine then, if that’s what you want,” Ms. Reese said with a sigh.

  “Yes, it is.” Bridget smiled at me, looking a little embarrassed. “Go on, Heather. What were you saying?”

  At that point, I had no idea what I’d been saying. But Danny had drifted back to his table and he was coloring again, so I figured I’d better say something, anything, while I still had the chance.

  “Have you decided what music you’d like to walk down the aisle to?” I asked.

  Bridget thought for a moment. “I think I’ll go with the Bridal March. I like how it …”

  “Mahh-meee!” Angela yelled. “Danny’s peeling all the crayons!”

  “Excuse me,” I faintly muttered to Bridget as I slid out of the booth.

  “Danny’s ruining all the crayons!” said Angela. “He’s peeling off the wrappers!”

  “You can still use them,” Danny said, picking at the Blizzard Blue with his fingernail.

  “Cut it out!” Angela screeched.

  I put my palms down on the table and leaned in so close that my nose was practically touching Angela’s. “Look,” I whispered fiercely, “you two sit here quietly and leave us alone for fifteen minutes, or I will find a creative way to make the rest of your week very, very unpleasant.”

  They both stared at me in shock.

  “What? What did I do?” Danny moaned.

  “Yeah!” said Angela. She was suddenly on Danny’s side. “What are you yelling at us for?”

  “All we’re doing is sitting here!” Danny exclaimed.

  “Yeah!” Angela said with a sharp nod of her head.

  I took a deep breath as I tried to remember how cute they both were when they were babies. It didn’t help. “Do not fight,” I whispered through clenched teeth, “or bother me. Or else.”

  “Cheez, what’s wrong with her?” Danny asked Angela as I slinked back into the booth.

  “Thank you for being so patient,” I said to Bridget and her mother, putting on my sweetest smile, yet again.

  “Oh, no problem,” said Bridget with a little flip of her fingers. “They’re both so adorable.”

  Ms. Reese said nothing. But she kept her eyes focused on me as she took a long sip of coffee.

  “Thank you.” I was grateful that, so far at least, Bridget thought my two little sidekicks were amusing. “All right then, so you would like the traditional Bridal March.” I picked up my pen and wrote a note on the contract. “And you had mentioned in our phone conversation that you want Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring for the processional and Ode to Joy for the recessional, and that there is no interlude music. Is that still correct?”

  “Uh-huh,” Bridget said.

  “All right, so we have all your music choices. Do you have any questions for me?”

  Bridget glanced at her mom then shook her head. “No, I think we’re good.”

  “Okay, then. I think that’s everything.” I turned the contract around and laid it down on the table in front of them. “Go ahead and look this over and let me know if you have any questions.”

  Bridget picked up the contract and moved her lips slightly as she read it to herself. “Okay, this looks great.” She put the contract down. “So now do I just sign this and write you a check?”

  “Yes,” I said, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. “A fifty percent deposit is requested to secure the date, and then the remaining balance will be due on …”

  Angela shrieked. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a plastic cup about three feet in the air above the kids. It landed with an explosion of soda and ice cubes that splashed all over the small table and floor. And, of course, one ice cube bounced up and hit the edge of our table with a graceful spin.

  “Excuse me,” I squeaked to Bridget and her mother as I jumped up to get some napkins.

  “What just happened?” I barked at the kids as I threw handfuls of napkins over the drenched table.

  Danny grinned. He was oblivious to—or maybe proud of—the havoc he’d caused. “I wanted to see if the cup would fall off if I picked it up by the lid.”

  “And I guess you found out.” I grabbed a napkin and frantically used it to scoop the ice up off the floor.

  “Are we leaving soon?” Angela was looking around. “I’m bored.”

  “Yeah, and can I get another soda?” Danny asked.

  “Don’t … talk … to me … right now,” I growled as I grabbed the soggy napkins off the table and carried them over to the trash can.

  I went back to my table. Ms. Reese was sullenly inspecting her sleeve for soda spatter, and I braced myself for the worst. I knew I was lucky that Bridget had hung in there for so long. But I had no doubt that any chance of getting this job went flying out the window the instant the drink went flying out of Danny’s hand.

  “Here ya go,” Bridget said, handing me the signed contract.

  I took it from her, speechless.

  “Mom’s writing the check.” Bridget gestured toward Ms. Reese who was writing with a gold-plated pen.

  I stared at Bridget’s signature at the bottom of the contract and blinked a couple times.

  “Is something wrong?” Bridget leaned forward and peered over the contract. “Did I sign it in the wrong spot or something?”

  “Nope!” I said happily, glancing down at the contract then back up at Bridget. “Nope, this is perfect!” A little laugh fluttered out of me as I opened my folder and took out the duplicate contract. “And here’s your copy.”

  Ms. Reese finished writing the check, tore it off, and handed it to me. I wasn’t positive, but I thought I had to give it an extra little tug before she finally let go.

  “Thank you both so much,” I said, quickly getting up and gathering my things. I knew I’d better usher the human tornadoes out of there before they caused some other disaster and Ms. Reese would have no choice but to lean forward, pluck the check and signed contract out of my hands, and rip them up. “I’ll be in touch about all the details the week before the wedding. But in the meantime, don’t hesitate to contact me.” I put a hand on each kid’s back and started herding them toward the door.

  “Thank you so much for taking the time to meet with us,” said Bridget. She tilted her head and flipped her fingers in a little wave. “Bye kids! Nice meeting you!”

  Angela turned around a
nd grinned. “We’ve never been to a wedding before. So do you think we could …”

  “Bye!” I yelled quickly, spinning Angela back around and steering her and Danny out the door.

  “Did you get the job?” Angela asked once we were outside.

  “Amazingly, yes,” I said.

  “I’d really like to go to the wedding with you,” she said hopefully. “Can I?”

  I clutched the envelope containing the proof of my success closer to my chest. “Ha ha. Yeah, I don’t think so.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Bridget’s wedding venue was beautiful. Edgewood Gardens was a historic white house—complete with pillars—on the outskirts of the metro area. It was nestled back in a grove, and not even visible from the main road.

  There was a huge patio behind the house. It was filled with rows of white wooden chairs decorated with purple sash bows, pink roses, and baby’s breath. The chairs were facing a gazebo with strings of hanging lights and plenty of room for me to set up my keyboard in the back corner.

  Even though I couldn’t help feeling a little nervous, I was confident that this would definitely not be a repeat of Christine’s church wedding. For one thing, I’d purchased and learned plenty of new music for the prelude and could probably keep playing for an hour and a half if I had to. And for another thing, I met the wedding coordinator as soon as I arrived and she seemed like a very competent woman. She knew what was going on, and she immediately knew who I was. She showed me exactly where the bridal party would be entering and where she would be standing to give me the music cues.

  I played through the prelude music, the mothers’ entrance, and then the song for the bridesmaids. Each song gave me a sense of growing confidence. I was experienced. I was prepared. I was …

  Doot doot deedle-eet!

  Huh?

  Doot doot deedle-eet!! Doot doot …

  Oh no. Oh no no no no no. I knew that sound. It was my cell phone. It was in my purse which was on the floor under the keyboard, near my left foot.

  … deedle-eet!

  There was no way I could reach it from where I was sitting. I started swinging my left foot around—which is not easy to do when you’re pedaling with your right foot—to try to kick it closer while still keeping an eye on the bridesmaids coming down the aisle.

  Doot doot …

  Got it! If I just leeeeaned to the left, I could stop playing with my left hand for just a second while I reeeeeached …

  My phone stopped. I kept playing and slowly got back into an upright position.

  Meanwhile, the fifth and final bridesmaids approached their spots. I quickly whipped the music book off the keyboard and slapped three pages of Wager’s Bridal March into place.

  As Bridget started down the path behind the white chairs the guests stood up and turned toward her. She was wearing a beautiful A-line gown with a dipped neckline, and she looked radiant.

  Just then, a breeze stirred. The edges of my music pages fluttered. Uh-oh, I thought.

  Bridget turned at the end of the path and began walking down the aisle.

  Flutter, flutter, flutter. I pushed my left hand against the pages and tried playing with just my right hand, but that obviously wasn’t going to work.

  Bridget was almost halfway down the aisle.

  Please, please, no more wind, I thought. Just please give me thirty breezeless seconds, and then there can be huge gusts of wind all over the place. There can be a freaking tornado during the ceremony for all I care. Just please, please, please, let me finish.

  Another breeze rose up. Oh no no no no no no!

  WHOOOSH! All three pages went flying into the air.

  I frantically reached up to grab them, but they seemed to have minds of their own as they flapped around in all directions. Despite my best efforts, they danced happily out of the gazebo and tumbled across the lawn, never to be seen again.

  I of course had to keep playing after the mass exodus of my music. So I fumbled around in the same key as best I could, trying to play a melody that sounded semi-accurate until Bridget mercifully arrived at the altar.

  “Friends and family of Bridget and Alex,” the officiant said, “welcome, and thank you for being here on this important day.”

  Well, what do you know. I wasn’t as prepared as I thought I was.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “It was awful,” I said to Steve that evening as I told him the whole story. “I was so embarrassed, and I had to sit right there where everybody could stare at me during the entire ceremony. I’m sure they were all thinking I was a total idiot.”

  “Hmm.” Steve thought for a moment. “I know what you need to do. Create a checklist on your phone for everything you need to do before a wedding. Make sure it includes putting all your music in a three-ring binder and packing some clips. Then, the last thing on your list should be turning off your phone. That way, this won’t happen again.” He picked up the TV remote and went back to watching an episode of Star Trek.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled.

  Men—all solution, no sympathy.

  * * *

  Later that week I was talking to Stephanie on the phone. “It was horrendous,” I said. “I was completely mortified. I had to sit in plain view of everybody through the whole ceremony. And they could stare at me after my stupid phone went off and my music blew away. I’m positive they all thought I was a total idiot.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they weren’t thinking about you,” she said. “It was a wedding. Everybody probably had their eyes on the bride and was just thinking about how beautiful she looked and what a happy couple they were. I bet most people didn’t even notice.”

  “Maybe.” I still wasn’t convinced.

  “And even if they did notice, they probably thought it was kind of funny seeing all the papers suddenly go flying away like that. I know I would’ve thought it was funny.”

  “I guess.” I was trying to imagine if it could’ve been funny to anyone other than her.

  “So think of it this way,” she said, “you gave a couple guests a funny story to tell about the wedding the next day. Everybody needs a good funny wedding story, right?”

  “Well, that’s one way of looking at it.” I chuckled.

  “But really, I doubt most people even noticed. I wouldn’t worry about it. Anyway, you should be really excited. You’ve played for two weddings now. You’re getting to be a real pro.”

  She was right. It was two more weddings than I’d played for six months ago. That was exciting. See, this is why God created girlfriends, I thought.

  The next day Bridget sent a very nice email thanking me and telling me that the music was beautiful. That was the important thing—the bride was happy. So I tried not to worry about it.

  * * *

  A few nights later Steve sighed as he came into the kitchen. “All right. I think I finally got them both to bed. We finished a chapter of Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, everybody went to the bathroom, and Danny has Bunny-Bun. What’s up?”

  “I’m trying to figure out what to cook this week.” I was leaning against the counter looking up recipes on my phone. “How does chicken broccoli casserole sound?”

  “Sounds great.” He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. “It’s been nice to have some real food around here. Thank you.”

  “You should try cooking with me sometime,” I said as I went to the fridge. “It’s not as hard as I thought. It’s actually a little fun.” I scrolled down to the list of ingredients. “Let’s see, do we have mayonnaise?” I put my phone on the counter and started going through the stuff in the door shelves. “Ranch dressing, tartar sauce … eww, this looks really old.” I leaned over and threw it in the trash.

  My phone made a binging sound.

  “You got an email,” Steve said. “You want me to check it?”

  “Yeah, sure.” Aha, there was mayonnaise. I opened the jar just to make sure we had enough, then checked the expiration date. Yup, that will work, I thought.

  “It’s a
notification for a review posted on your profile.”

  I shut the fridge and walked over to him. “What is that? Spam?”

  “I dunno. It says it’s from Wedding Wild.”

  “Wedding Wild?” I repeated. “Why are they … oh! I know what it is. Someone must’ve left a review on my page. Ooh, how exciting.” I started bouncing up and down on my toes. “Who’s it from? What does it say?”

  Steve leaned against the counter and clicked the link. His eyes narrowed. After a couple more seconds, he frowned. “Hmm.”

  I stopped bouncing. “Hmm? What does hmm mean?”

  Steve kept frowning at the phone.

  I was getting nervous. “What? What is it? They said something bad, didn’t they?”

  Steve looked at me and opened his mouth as if to say something. Then he pressed his lips together.

  I was stunned. Why would either of my two brides be logging into the website to write bad things about me? Sure, everything wasn’t perfect, but overall things went fairly well. When all was said and done, both brides seemed very happy. And anyway, why would a new bride be pounding out mean, negative posts about the people who were part of the happiest day of her life? Weren’t they supposed to be joyously honeymooning and sorting through all their expensive wedding gifts and … well, just busy being in a constant state of marital bliss?

  “What does it say?” I asked, although the idea of actually finding out made me feel ill.

  He handed me the phone and I forced myself to look.

  I was very disappointed to have Heather Hershey play at my daughter’s wedding ceremony last week.

  Of course. Bridget’s mother wrote the nasty review. She wasn’t in a state of starry-eyed marital bliss. She wasn’t busy writing thank you notes, sorting photos of her honeymoon, and happily arranging all her new china and fondue sets. She was just as grumpy and whiny as the rest of us. Not to mention, she obviously disliked me from the get-go and was probably actively looking for things I did wrong that day—not that she had to look very hard.

  “I don’t believe this,” I muttered.