by Joyce Magnin
I waited and then saw Gilda, holding Boris's hand, weave through the crowd like she was some kind of celebrity with her bodyguard.
"You all need to get out of my way," she said. "I am here to see my fiancé."
"Booooooo," I heard from the crowd. Then a small woman making her way down the hall with a walker stopped just at Walter's door. "We're on to you, you sassy hussy," she said. Her voice crackled like cellophane "Agnes told us not to let you inside."
"What?" Gilda said. "You can't do this!"
"That's right," Boris said. "Now back to your rooms. All of you. This woman has every right to see her intended." He threw out his barrel chest.
All I could do was stand there and shake my head until Boris caught my eye. "Do something," he said. "Agnes is your sister. She's incited this riot."
I didn't know who I was more annoyed with—Agnes for telling all these people to set up a blockade or Boris for being so stupid and gullible.
"Go on everybody, please," I said. "Go back to your rooms."
I caught up with Boris. "Agnes is only trying to help."
"Help? Help?" Gilda squawked like a crow. "She has sent a mob after me. That is not help, sister. That is . . . well, I don't know what it is but it is certainly something and she has no right."
"It's obstruction of matrimony," Boris said. "That's what this is. Now these fine citizens are not teenagers, Griselda. They have every legal right to get married."
The crowd dispersed and the next thing I knew Gilda, Stella, Boris, and me were standing at Walter's bedside.
"I'm ready to get hitched, my darling," Gilda said. She touched his face and his eyes opened. He smiled wide at her and soft lines appeared at the corners of his mouth. That was when I noticed one small dimple in his left cheek.
"Walter, my name is Boris Lender, esquire, attorney at law, justice of the peace, and first selectman of Bright's Pond." He took a breath and let it out. It smelled of moth balls as though he had not spoken those words in many years. "Gilda asked me to officiate your wedding. Do you understand the words that I have spoken?"
Walter nodded. His eyes twinkled. "I do."
"That's fine. Now remember those two words young fella."
Walter's gaze shifted to Gilda. She wore a tight, off-white dress with the tiniest orange polka dots and a ruffled collar. She wore thin white gloves with lace at the wrist and a little white hat with tiny mother-of-pearl sequins. "Oh, Wally." She folded her little hands in front of her and tilted her head to the right. "I love you, my darling. It's been five long weeks." She looked around the room at each of us. I was holding Stella back. "Five loooong weeks. But we're here now, and you're OK, and that's all that matters."
Her speech was nearly heartrending. Even Boris wiped a tear and blew his nose into a pink handkerchief he pulled from his pocket.
"True love," he said, "knows no bounds."
I had to yank on Stella's hand to keep her in place. "Let it go," I whispered through clenched teeth. "Cliff and Mildred will get here. I just know they will."
Walter nodded and whispered. "Love you too."
Stella pulled away from me and walked to the windows. I could feel how upset she felt.
"Come on over here, Stella," Gilda said. "I still want you to be our witness."
Stella turned back around. She stood at the foot of Walter's bed. "Are you sure?"
He nodded.
Stella looked at me.
"Go on," I said. "It's what he wants." Defeat sank into my chest. It seemed there was no stopping the wedding now. Everything was in place.
Stella stood at Gilda's side. The room grew quiet as I noticed a small crowd gathered at the door and music drifted down the hall. It was "Pomp and Circumstance" played on what sounded like a scratchy old record player. It was as close to the wedding march as Greenbrier could get.
Boris pulled a small black book from his inside suit pocket. He moved to the foot of the bed and cleared his throat. Gilda held Walter's hand while Stella stood next to her holding her tongue, I was certain.
"OK," Boris said. "I guess we're all set then."
Gilda beamed at Walter. Walter beamed at her. The music grew louder and scratchier.
"Dearly beloved," Boris said in his best justice of the peace voice. "We are gathered here in the sight of God to—"
When all of a sudden an alarm sounded in the hallway. It drowned out the music as we heard people scrambling all over and voices shouting directions. Sally appeared at the door. "Everybody out," she called. "It's the fire alarm. We weren't scheduled for a drill but we still have to evacuate."
"Evacuate?" Gilda said. "But I'm getting married."
"Not right now," Sally said. "Follow the residents outside. An orderly will be by to get Walter."
"It's OK," Boris said. "I can push his bed."
"Brakes are on the side. Just maneuver him down the hall and out the main doors."
"Dammit!" Gilda said. She dropped Walter's hand like it was a hot potato and was ushered out of the room with the rest of the wedding party by the woman with the cellophane voice. "Come on you rapscallions. Outside. Everybody outside until the fire marshall gives us the all clear." She winked at me.
"Agnes," I said, "what about Agnes?"
"I'll help," Stella said.
"OK" I said. I unlocked the left side of Walter's bed as Boris unlocked the right. Alarm was on Walter's face as he tried to talk but no words came out, only raspy syllables.
"It's OK," Boris told him. "We just have to move you down the hall and outside. It's only a drill."
Stella and I made our way in the opposite direction of the wave of residents moving toward the front doors.
"What do you think is going on?" Stella asked.
"I'm willing to bet the funeral home that Agnes is behind this."
Agnes was still in her room sitting in her wheelchair. "About time you two got here."
"Agnes," Stella said. "Hasn't anyone come to take you outside?"
"Me? I am not going out there. It's cold."
"But—" Stella stopped talking and started to laugh. "You're behind this."
"Oh, maybe a little. But it was really Mrs. Chadwick's idea."
"Mrs. Chadwick?" I said.
"The woman you met earlier. Her voice sounds like broken glass. Poor thing smoked herself into a mess of problems."
I sat on Agnes's bed and laughed. "This is great. It broke up the wedding, but I'm afraid it's just a stall. As soon as the all clear sounds, Boris will start up right where he left off—about to pronounce them husband and wife."
"Well hopefully," Agnes said. "We bought a little time. Any word from Cliff or Mildred?"
I shook my head. "No, but they better get here."
34
It took the better part of forty-five minutes to get all the Greenbrier residents counted and back inside and situated in their rooms, including Walter who had grown pale and disturbed.
Sally stayed at his side as Claude maneuvered him down the hall and back into his room.
Gilda rushed to Walter's side. "Oh, my darling. Are you OK?"
Sally put the stethoscope in her ears and listened to Walter's chest. "This was quite an ordeal for him."
"Goodness gracious," called Stella running into the room. "What was that all about? Whoever figured on a fire drill at the nursing home?"
"We have to keep our residents prepared and ready for any emergency," Sally said.
Gilda's eyes found Walter's. "Oh, Wally; my dear, sweet Wally. Are you OK?" She rushed to his side.
"OK," Walter said. But then he closed his eyes as if to sleep. A hush fell over the room.
"Is he all right?" Stella asked.
"Yes," Sally said. "But he's tired now. He needs to sleep."
Boris entered the room accompanied by two male residents in terry bathrobes. "We found him wandering around on the east side. He must have got himself separated from the pack," said the taller of the two gentlemen.
"Boris," Gilda said. "You can st
ill marry us. Now." She glared at him.
"Oh, now, I don't know about that," Sally said. "The fire drill plum tuckered Walter out. He should rest to avoid any further complications."
"Complications?" Gilda said. "What kind of complications?"
"Well now anything can happen after a coma. And now with all the excitement of reuniting with his dear, sweet sister, getting married, not remembering the treasure, which by the way, he has been wracking his brains about. All that stress and pressure could create any number of ill-wanted side effects."
Stella opened her mouth. I grabbed her elbow. "Shh. Just let her go."
"Especially one that, well any wife would NOT want, especially when she is just newly married. You know what I'm talking about?" Sally looked directly at Gilda.
"No, no what are you talking about?" Gilda turned toward Boris. "What's she talking about?"
He shook his thick head.
"I am talking about," she lowered her voice and leaned into Gilda, "impotence."
Gilda stepped back. "Really? You mean he might not be able to—"
"Well, now, of course he isn't ready for that kind of activity yet, but he will be and I'm sure you'll want him in tip-top condition. Doctor Silver will check his heart again tomorrow."
It was all I could do to hold back laughter. Stella had finally caught on also and squeezed my hand.
"But I want to marry him, now!" Gilda said.
Every eye looked at Walter who was about as unconscious as he was a week previous.
"Now see here," Boris said. "You're acting awfully selfish, young lady. I won't marry a man who can't speak or nod or blink or sign his name. You will just have to wait even if it means getting another marriage license."
She batted her eyelashes him. "I'm sorry, Boris. I'm just so anxious to marry my sweetheart. You see we had intended on tying the knot on this very day."
Stella grabbed my hand and squeezed. "Yeah, right. I believe that," she whispered.
"I just thought that the good Lord had taken a shine to us and . . ." Gilda let loose with the crocodile tears and buried her face in Boris's fat shoulder. He petted the back of her head. "Now, now, Gilda. It's OK. It's all OK. Let's go home and wait a little bit. We might be able to come back in a little while."
"That's a good idea," Sally said. "I think Walter is going to sleep for a few hours." She started to usher us out of the room like a mother hen with chicks.
A curious but much less rambunctious crowd had gathered in the hall.
"Did they do it?" said one ancient woman standing there, hunched over, leaning on a four-footed cane. "Did they git hitched, or did the fire drill mess things up?"
"I got rice just in case," called another woman. "I got rice. Is it time to throw the rice?"
"Come on, Gladys," said Sally the nurse. She put her arm around the woman's knobby shoulders. "Let's put the rice away."
"Where's the groom? I see the bride," called a man leaning against the wall. "I'll take her on the honeymoon if he can't. If you know what I mean." And then he made some kind of disgusting noise and a Three Stooges gesture.
Boris put both hands in the air trying to take control of what was about to get crazy. "Simmer down. Simmer down, people, or I will clear this hallway. No, the wedding has been postponed."
"Clear the hall?" Stella said.
"He thinks he's in court," I said.
"Postponed. That's a crying shame," said the woman with the cellophane voice, sounding just a bit sarcastic.
Boris stopped in front of me. "I'm going to take Gilda back to Bright's Pond," he said. "She can use a couple of Bufferin, I think."
Gilda, who was still shedding tears looked up at Boris. "You're a good man."
Stella rolled her eyes and we watched them walk down the hall like it was death row. "Yeah, she's sufferin'," Stella said once they were out of earshot.
Boris led the grieving "Almost Mrs. Walter Hughes" out the door.
The residents padded back to their rooms. Stella and I went to Walter's room. She plopped into the visitor's chair. "I don't believe what just happened."
"God bless them," I said.
"Who?"
"The residents. They pulled off a . . . what-do-you-call-it? a coup."
"I'll say. And I bet Agnes was behind the whole thing."
"No doubt. Agnes and the strange little woman with the crinkly voice."
"Yeah. She was great."
Stella went to Walter's side. "He seems far away again. I hope he's all right."
"I'm sure he is. Sally knows what she's doing."
"Sally?"
"Isn't it obvious. I think she slipped him a Mickey."
"No. Really? She wouldn't just do that, not without a doctor's orders."
"We'll never really know," I said moving next to her. "She won't ever admit to it."
"That's fine by me. But what do we do now? They'll be back later."
"We have to find Cliff and Mildred."
Stella flopped back into the chair. "Oh, Griselda, I am plum tuckered out. I feel like I've been toting jumbo pumpkins all over the place.
"It's been a crazy few days. I'm hoping the worst of it is over."
Stella reached through the rail and held her brother's hand. "We used to be much closer. When we were kids. He was ten. I was thirteen. We used to have these races, barefoot in the field behind our house, and even though I could always run faster, I let him win—every single time."
"I know how you're feeling. I was thinking that we're both in kind of the same boat. I'm looking out for Agnes and you're looking out for Walter."
Stella wiped tears with her shirt. I handed her a tissue. "But I think one of the things we have to remember is that they're grown up now, and we're really not helping if we keep taking care of them."
"It seems like I just got him back and now I could lose him again."
"Let's wait and see. The woman with the crinkly voice might have pulled the alarm but God is coming to the rescue. They won't get married if He doesn't want them too."
"I hope you're right."
"You stay here with Walter. Call the café if Gilda and Boris come back before me."
"Thank you, Griselda." Stella stood and gave me a very uncharacteristic hug. "For everything."
"It's going to be OK. You'll get your family back."
I drove back to Bright's Pond by way of the Sakolas Quarry thinking that maybe Cliff decided to join the treasure hunt and maybe because there was a part of me that was still curious about it and wondered if anyone had found it. There was no one there. All I saw were a bunch of holes in the ground and a broken pickax, a boarded-up mine shaft, and a dilapidated coal breaker that looked like some kind of eerie, other-worldy monster against the now setting sun. It was a gigantic barnlike building with a hundred windows and a long, slanted shaft that once carried tons and tons of coal into the building where it would be broken and sorted into usable sizes. It wasn't nearly as ominous when I saw it from two thousand feet.
I sat in my truck a minute looking for someone, anyone, but it was deserted. I thought they had either found the treasure or given up for the day.
Next, I made my way to Hector's Hill. Still no Matilda. The place looked desolate without the plane sitting there. She gave Bright's Pond an air of regalness, importance, almost as if we had finally made it on the map.
The Full Moon was once again packed out, but not for the food. A sizable crowd had gathered.
"What's going on?" I asked Dot.
She was at the cash register ringing up one of the truck drivers. "That'll be three dollars and twelve cents, Rolly."
"Worth every penny, Dot. Thanks." Rolly stuffed his change in his pocket. "What's all the ruckus about?" he asked.
"Oh, they've all come because that fella over there," she pointed to Studebaker, "has news about the treasure."
Rolly didn't appear impressed or interested. "See ya again, Dot."
I waved to Dot. She smiled back. "Go on take a seat," she said. "The
show is about to begin."
"Come on, Studebaker," Zeb who was trying to keep one eye on his grill and the other on Studebaker said. "Tell us. Did you find it?"
Studebaker, still in dirty jeans and a flannel shirt was sitting on the first stool at the counter looking like the cat that swallowed the canary. "Well now, that's hard to say. We found something. Or I should say, Bill Tompkins found something. Show them Bill."
Bill, who was sitting at a booth with Edie and Ruth held up a small, brown strong box.
"That don't look big enough to hold a million dollars," said Frank Sturgis.
"It don't look big enough to hold a million fleas," said Zeb.
"That's what we thought," Ruth said. "That's why we brought it back and decided to open it up here. So everyone can see together."
"How can you be sure it's the treasure?" I asked.
"Well we can't," Stu said. "But it sure was buried like treasure, between the high road and the low road. And it is kind of like a safe. Just smaller."
"So open it," called Frank Sturgis.
Everyone in the café grew quiet as though a large wool blanket had been dropped over them. Bill pulled a screwdriver out of his pocket and used it to pry open the flimsy lock. The lid popped open. A wisp of tan dust blew out. Bill laughed.
"It's just a note." He held it up high so all could see.
"What's it say? Maybe it's a clue to the real treasure," Studebaker said.
"It just might be," Bill said.
"Well, come on," Edie said. "Don't leave us in suspense. Open it up and read it."
He unfolded the weather-worn, fragile page. "It's hard to make out, but . . . oh no, I think it says, 'I O U one million dollars.' And it's signed, W. T. Sakolas. And look, it's dated. April 1, 1893."
"What?" called Stu. "It doesn't say that! Does it really?"
Edie pulled the fragile paper out of her husband's hand. "The heck it don't. I O U. Right there in the middle of the page." She flicked the page.
I let a small chuckle escape my throat. Within seconds everyone was laughing either from relief or disappointment or because it was just so darn funny that they found a promise and not a treasure.
