“Isn’t it great, Betsy? How many girls would give their right arm to be featured in Budget Bride magazine?” David’s mother beams. “Lucky for you your future mother-in-law is the managing editor.”
David’s fingers tighten around mine. “Please, Betz?” he says under his breath. “It means so much to her. And the magazine will pay for everything.”
My eyes meet his, and with a sinking feeling, I know I’m going to agree. Not because I care that much about making his mother happy, but because I want David to be happy. That’s how it is when you love someone. I have David now. I can afford to be noble and gracious.
Also, I’m afraid of what will happen if I say no. You see, I knew David back when he was engaged before. To Jennifer, the Cindy Crawford look-alike. I know he can do better than me.
“It’s fine,” I whisper. “Really. It’ll be great.”
The lines on David’s forehead dissolve into relief. “Thanks,” he says, and then zooms in for another kiss. The flashbulb is popping again, but at the moment, I don’t care. The whole world can be as imperfect as it wants as long as David keeps kissing me.
“It came from eBay,” Angela informs me amid the bustle of my impromptu engagement party. The photographer snaps a few close-ups of my garish engagement ring. “Such a steal,” Angela purrs.
Her words douse the faint flicker of hope that I might find a gentle way to suggest to David that we exchange the ring for something more, well, tasteful. I can’t believe I’m going to spend the next forty-plus years of my life wearing an engagement ring that looks like an Easter basket. I bet the person who sold it to him is still laughing.
“It means a lot to me that he picked it out himself,” I say demurely, because it’s never too early to build a good bridge of communication with your future mother-in-law. No matter what cheap tabloid she edits.
“Oh.” A brief look of consternation flits across her features. “Himself. Well, actually, I had my assistant Veronica do that for him. You know David. He’s hopeless when it comes to shopping. Plus, Veronicas been scouring eBay for months for the cheapest ring possible. It’s going to be a whole sidebar for the feature.”
I try to ignore the stab of disappointment in my midsection. Probably a lot of guys have help buying their girlfriend an engagement ring. I just wish David’s ring consultant hadn’t been a twenty-year-old administrative assistant who thinks pink ice is the height of fashion.
“Please thank Veronica for me,” I say to Angela, but what I really mean is, “A pox upon her and her unborn children.”
Okay, that’s probably a bit harsh, but I’m a little too overwhelmed at the moment to be a model of graciousness. I was expecting dinner for two, not a party of forty.
I see nothing of David for the next hour. Well, that’s not strictly true. Since he’s quite tall, I can see his head across the room. I’d hoped to spend a good portion of the evening in his arms. Instead, I’m spending it in the arms of the parishioners from his church (St. Helga’s Lutheran) and mine (Church of the Shepherd). I had hoped to spend the evening enveloped in the combined scent of David’s cologne and shrimp enchiladas. Instead, I’m surrounded by the smells of talcum powder (elderly church ladies) and Opium (David’s mother, who buys it in bulk to save money). The closest I get to shrimp enchiladas are a few tortilla chips with some green tomatilla sauce. By the time I’ve received everyone’s well wishes, I’m famished, my feet hurt, and my mother’s driving me up a tree.
“A June wedding will be pushing it,” my mom says to Angela, “but I believe it can be done.”
June? Did David and I set a date without my knowing it?
“Look, Mom, this is all fairly sudden—”
“It’s March, but I don’t think it’s hopeless,” my mom continues, undaunted. “Betsy should have a little pull when it comes to booking the church.” For the first time since I announced my intention to become a minister, my mother seems pleased with my decision. At long last, my profession has its use.
“Maybe we should all take a deep breath—” I don’t get any further with that appeal than I did with the one before.
“Definitely June,” Angela says. “My copy for the feature article will be due July 1, so we’ll still be cutting it close. But that’s the only way to make it into the December issue.”
December issue? “Won’t a summer wedding look strange in a winter issue of the magazine?”
Angela looks at me as if I’ve sprouted two heads. “Oh no, dear. It will be a Christmas wedding. We already have the theme: ‘Low-Cost Winter Wonderland.’” She flashes her enormous smile—which is rather scary because of the gleaming porcelain veneers on her two front teeth—and brays a long laugh. “Isn’t that great?”
“Great,” I lie through my teeth and frantically look around for David. This is his mother; he can be the one to get us out of this mess.
But David’s having his ear bent, twisted, and mangled by Obadiah Grant, the resident curmudgeon in his congregation. Obadiah doesn’t look as if he’s going to let up anytime soon. David’s church is in the process of rebuilding the sanctuary after last year’s tornado, and Obadiah has been making David’s life miserable with his demands. Across the room of party-goers, our eyes meet, and I instantly feel calmer. Of course, he’s not going to let his mother hijack our wedding, just as I’m not going to let mine use it as an occasion for vigorous social climbing. After all, we’re the bride and groom. We’re in charge. Everyone will calm down once the newness of our engagement has worn off.
“Regular trips to Goodwill,” Angela is advising me, I discover, when I tune her back in. “Twice a week at least.”
“Goodwill?” I echo, confused.
“Of course. You have to be in the right place at the right time. Because somewhere out there right now is a bride who’s about to be jilted. She’ll want to get rid of the dress. You have to be ready to pounce.”
Ready to pounce? Doubtful. Ready to flee into the night? Absolutely.
In my wildest dreams, I’d never have dreamed my first date with David would turn into a wedding nightmare.
HEAVENS TO BETSY
PUBLISHED BY WATERBROOK PRESS
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A division of Random House, Inc.
Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved. Scripture also taken from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the USA. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.
Copyright © 2005 by Beth Pattillo
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Pattillo, Beth.
Heavens to Betsy / Beth Pattillo.—1st ed.
p. cm.
1. Women clergy—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3616.A925H43 2005
813?.6—dc22
2004029561
eISBN: 978-0-307-55124-5
v3.0
Table of Contents
Praise for Heavens to Betsy
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
<
br /> Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Copyright
Heavens to Betsy Page 23
