Chasing Charity

by Marcia Gruver

  Mother Dane and Mama stood arm in arm, sniffing and wiping their eyes, Mother Dane on her lace hankie, Mama on her sleeve.

  A tearful Mother Dane motioned to Emmy. “Come over here, sugar pie, and let your mama hug you, too.”

  Emmy rushed over and fell against her ample bosom. “Does this mean you’re not cross with me anymore?”

  Mother Dane grunted. “I never said I wasn’t cross, little girl. You still have some explaining to do. But we’ll worry about that later.” She made a face and held Emmy at arm’s length. “Land sakes, what foul mischief have you rolled in?” She held up her hand. “Don’t tell me. Just climb up on that wagon and let me get you home and in a washtub. You’re wanting a good scrubbing.”

  Buddy’s warm hands settled on Charity’s shoulders and turned her around. “Can I talk you into that wedding now? I don’t imagine that preacher has gotten too far away.”

  Smiling, she caressed his filthy, swollen face. “As handsome as you are today, how can I refuse?”

  When he beamed, she patted his broad chest. “Yet I must.”

  His smile died and his chest deflated. “This is no time for jokes, Charity. Don’t you love me?”

  The hurt in his eyes struck deep. Charity took his hands in her own. “Buddy, I love you very much, but I don’t want to remember my wedding as the day I was supposed to marry Daniel Clark. I think I’d rather plan our own, wouldn’t you? And do it up right from start to finish?”

  Buddy’s arms went around her again, strong and secure. “You just set the date, ma’am. I’ll be there.” His brows gathered in a mock frown. “Don’t make me wait too long now. You hear?”

  From behind them, Charity’s mama gave a huge sigh. “So be it,” she said then crooked a finger at Nash. “Come on and get me home. If there ain’t to be no more weddings today, I need to get shed of these boots. They’re killing me.”

  Mother Dane spun around. “Tell me you didn’t—” Without waiting for an answer, she bent and raised the hem of Mama’s dress. “You did! Bert, how could you?”

  “Magdalena Dane, take your hands off me before you’re left with a stub. I told you those shoes pinch my feet.” She raised her foot up off the ground and waved it in the air. “I cleaned these up real nice. They don’t even smell.”

  Mother Dane looked at Charity and shook her head. “Honey, I tried, but you can’t dress up a mule’s behind to look like anything else.”

  Mama spit and sputtered. “Least I ain’t a mule’s behind sashaying around in frilly hats and lace hankies. Don’t forget, I knew you long before you married money.”

  Charity laughed and hugged her mama, her heart so light it seemed she could rise to her toes, lift off the ground, and soar over the treetops. “Don’t you worry, Mother Dane. Have I mentioned the fact that my mama is oil-rich? She can afford to buy as many shoes as she pleases. We’re bound to find her a comfortable pair to wear to my next wedding.” She glanced over at Buddy and smiled. “My last wedding.”

  Mother Dane sniffed. “You might find a pair to suit her, but it’ll take some time and likely every cent she’s got.”

  Mama grinned at Charity. “I’d still have a good pair if that feller of yours had ever found the one I lost in the bog.” She cocked her head and cackled. “It likely blasted to kingdom come and back when that well blew in. It’s probably wedged in the top of a pine tree right now.”

  Mother Dane turned from giving Emmy a hand up onto her rig. “I can’t think of a more fitting end to that old piece of leather. You’ve worn that pair since you married Thad. I was glad to see them go.” She held out her hand to Mama. “Now come over here and let me help you up so we can go home. I wouldn’t mind stepping out of my own shoes for a spell. I got a corn on my great toe that’s ready to sprout ears.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Charity stood on the top landing of Mother Dane’s staircase, holding her breath. The steps spiraling down to the parlor and to the unavoidable confrontation with Mama seemed far too few. Heart pounding, she prepared to take the first one then paused to wait out a brief bout of vertigo. When it passed, she breathed a shaky laugh and steeled herself to try again.

  You can do this, Charity. You can do this....

  “Charity!”

  The strident voice startled her severely, and she almost lost her balance.

  Mama stared up at her from the bottom step with horror-struck eyes. She pointed behind Charity. “Get back in there this minute and take that thing off.”

  Charity clutched at her bodice. “You scared me right out of my skin.”

  Mama’s expression turned hard. And determined. “I mean to scare you right out of that dress. Go take it off. You can’t wear that infernal thing again.”

  Charity lifted the hem of her wedding gown clear of her feet and started down the stairs. “Of course I can.”

  Mama, turning red now, watched her descend. “Daughter, go take it off like I said. Put on that store-bought one that we picked out.”

  Charity reached the bottom step and twirled. “What’s wrong with this one?”

  Shrinking away from her, Mama pointed a trembling finger. “You know what’s wrong with that thing. It’s hexed. You’ve worn it for two weddings now, but you still ain’t married.”

  Charity jumped flat-footed to the floor. She felt lighthearted and somewhat daring, as young and carefree as a child. “That fact alone makes it a blessing in my book. Besides, how could something so lovely bring bad luck?” She picked up her mama’s tiny hands and caressed the bent fingers. “Especially considering it was fashioned in hope by these dear hands, with love sewn in every stitch.”

  Mama tried to wriggle her hands free. “I thought we already decided you weren’t to wear it.”

  “You decided. I just went along to save you from fussing. But now I’ve changed my mind.” Charity kissed each of her mama’s palms and drew her close for a hug. “The dress was made for this day,” she whispered against her mama’s hair. “We just didn’t know it before now.”

  Mama raised her face, and Charity’s heart caught at the measure of love that shone from her eyes. “This day is all I ever wanted for you, baby. God sent Buddy to us.”

  “I know, Mama. God is so good. He knows just what our hearts need.”

  Emmy stood up from the divan and crossed the parlor. “I was about to come up and help with your hair, but, oh my, I see you didn’t need me.” Her eyes brimmed, and a single tear tracked down her cheek. “You’re a vision, Charity.”

  Charity laughed and pulled her into the hug. “Stop it now. You’ll just get me started, and I don’t want to cry today.”

  Mother Dane pushed herself up from the big green chair. “You do look exquisite in that gown, sugar, but I think your beauty has more to do with the joy on your face than how you’re dressed. Right this minute you’d look good in a feed sack. There’s nothing more beautiful than the glow of a bride in love.”

  Mama beamed. “The glow of a bride in love? Now that’s something she ain’t wore to a wedding before.” Her bright smile faded. “I just wish your papa was here to see how pretty you are. He’d be so awful proud to strut you down the aisle.”

  Charity gently tugged a lock of Mama’s hair. “We’re not going to cry today, remember?”

  “You’re right, sugar,” she said, wiping her eyes. “He wouldn’t want us to.”

  Nash opened the kitchen door behind them. “The rig’s out front, Miz Dane.”

  Mama spun to face him, her tears forgotten. “Well, get in it. You’re coming to my daughter’s wedding, ain’t you?”

  Nash looked aghast. “Miz Bloom, you know I cain’t hardly do that.”

  “Oh pooh! Why not?”

  He stepped into the room, fidgeting with his suspenders while he searched for something to say. “Miz Bloom, that’s a white man’s church. How could I do such a thing?”

  “Because I asked you, that’s how. I don’t give two hoots what this town thinks of it, neither. It’s the least they’d expec
t out of Crazy Bertha. We might as well give ’em something new to jaw about.” She winked and jutted her chin. “Since Buddy reclaimed my money from that Clark rascal before he took off to Galveston, and since there’s plenty more where that come from, I’m rich enough to do whatever I want.”

  She leveled her finger at Nash. “So you put on your Sunday best and come, you hear? Bring that nice Benjamin and Miss Lucille, too. Today’s special. I want to share it with my friends.”

  “But, Miz Bloom—”

  Mama jerked her finger up again. “No buts now. I’ll expect to see you there.”

  Charity slid her arm around Mama’s waist and smiled in his direction. “Please come, Nash. Buddy would be so pleased.”

  Nash looked from face to face, a desperate plea in his eyes. His gaze finally settled on Mother Dane, who offered him no help at all.

  “You go on and do like she says, Nash. It’ll be all right.”

  “Yes’m, Miz Dane,” he whined. “I’ll do like she say. But this family gon’ get me hanged.” He backed out the way he came in, muttering and shaking his head.

  Mama lifted one foot high in the air, struggling to maintain her balance. “Look, Charity,” she crowed. “I’m wearing my new shoes.”

  “I’m proud of you, Mama. They’re stunning. How do they feel?”

  She frowned and squirmed a bit. “Well, they do pinch my big toes.”

  Mother Dane donned her wide-brimmed hat, securing it with a long gilded pin, and then lifted her parasol. “Charity, make sure Bertha’s hem is long enough to cover them toes. She’ll be barefoot before you can say, ‘I do.’” Smiling, she opened the front door with a flourish. “Let’s us go to a wedding, ladies!”

  ***

  Charity gazed around the little chapel and tried to commit the scene to memory. It would be the last time she stood among family and friends to say her vows.

  Mama sat on the second row with Mother Dane and Emmy by her side. Jerry Ritter and Lee Allen were there for Buddy, sitting tall and beaming with pride.

  Mr. Allen’s presence presented quite a dilemma for Mama. Torn between staring at him or her daughter, she was bound to develop a crick in her swiveling neck. Even more surprising were the shy glances passing between Emmy and young Mr. Ritter.

  Nash and Benjamin stood against the back wall near the door, whispering and twisting their hats. Miss Lucille sat on the last pew with a beautiful smile on her face, clearly at home in God’s house, wherever she found it.

  The preacher came to stand before Charity and Buddy, his hands clasped at his waist. He smiled at them, but Charity’s cheeks still flamed. What must he think, presiding over three weddings in a row, all for the same bride?

  He nodded at her and Buddy in turn then cleared his throat. “Before we begin, I’m going to need your full names for the marriage certificate.” He paused and ducked his head. “Well, the groom’s at least. I have the bride’s name filled in.”

  Behind them Mama cackled. “I reckon you know it by heart by now.” She grunted then nudged Mother Dane. “Keep them elbows to yourself, Magda.”

  Charity wondered how red her face must appear against the white wedding gown. Buddy smiled in delight and squeezed her hand. Good thing he and Mama were having such a grand time.

  The preacher nodded again at Buddy. “And the groom’s name?”

  “Buddy Pierce.” Buddy’s voice rang out clear and strong, but he squirmed when he said it and refused to meet the preacher’s eyes.

  The man frowned. “Buddy’s a nickname, isn’t it? What’s your given name, son?”

  “Well, sir, never you mind about that.”

  His words gave Charity a start. She had asked him the same question on the day they met. His answer then had been the same. She looked at him in disbelief. Was she about to marry a man whose name she didn’t even know?

  The preacher lifted the paper toward Buddy and jabbed at it with a long, bony finger. “This here’s a legal document. I can’t put a nickname on it. It won’t be official.”

  Buddy released Charity’s hand and stepped closer to the man. She watched in disbelief as he lowered his head and whispered something in his ear. At first, the man of God looked like he’d swallowed a pinecone. He gaped at Buddy until Buddy nodded; then he chuckled and shook his head before he wrote it down.

  When Buddy returned to Charity’s side, she stared up at him. “Buddy?”

  He smiled at her. “Yes, Charity-from-the-Bible?”

  So he remembers, too.

  “We’re about to be married. Don’t you think I should know your name?”

  “Buddy will do for now.”

  “When are you planning to tell me?”

  “I can’t see how you’d ever need to know.”

  Charity heard scattered laughter behind her and turned to look. The room had stilled, and every person watched.

  “I see,” she said, lifting her chin stubbornly. “And what shall I call our firstborn son?”

  “What’s wrong with Junior?”

  The assembled guests erupted in delighted titters, Mama loudest of them all.

  Charity was done tiptoeing. “For crying in a bucket! Just tell me.” She crossed her arms and turned her back on him. “I refuse to marry you until I know your name.”

  Mama gasped and stood up. “What did she just say?”

  Mother Dane groaned. “Surely she didn’t.”

  Mama and Mother Dane pushed out into the aisle and stormed forward, with Emmy just behind them. With each step, the slap of Mama’s bare feet on the smooth wooden floor echoed through the hushed chapel.

  She clambered onto the podium and latched onto the reverend as if to prevent his getaway. “Don’t listen to this foolish girl, Preacher. She’ll marry this man or answer to me.” She spun around to point at Benjamin and Nash. “Block the door, men. No one leaves this room.” Then she gave the man of God a shake. “Stop messing about and get on with it.”

  “Wait a minute, Mama,” Charity said. “I didn’t say I would never marry him. Just not until he tells me his name.” She whirled on Buddy. “I don’t see one thing funny about it, either.”

  Buddy held up both hands. “All right, sugar, if you insist. Just remember, I tried to warn you. It’s a heavy cross to bear. Don’t blame me if you really do change your mind after hearing it.” He whispered in her ear then stood back grinning.

  Charity blinked up at him, sure she’d heard him wrong. “You didn’t say Wigglesworth?”

  He placed his hand over his heart. “On my honor, Miss Bloom, that’s my handle.”

  She shook her head. “No one would burden a child with that name. Not with a straight face.”

  “Oh, I doubt my mother had one. Her sense of humor rivaled her passion for poetry, especially the works of Michael Wigglesworth, the seventeenth-century poet.”

  Mama gave Charity a grave look. “Buddy was right, baby. Some things is better kept quiet.”

  Lee Allen slapped Jerry Ritter on the back. “Wigglesworth, is it? After all these years, it took a woman to get it out of him. I’d say that’s true love, wouldn’t you, Jerry?”

  Mr. Ritter grinned and nodded. “Can’t say I much blame him for holding out.”

  When the laughter in the room died down, Charity peered into Buddy’s eyes. “So you’re telling me the truth?”

  His expression never wavered.

  She nodded and sighed. “Junior it is, then. We owe it to our son to spare him the pain.”

  The preacher stepped forward, containing his mirth with visible effort. “Shall we proceed? Or is this wedding called off, too?”

  Still smiling, Buddy looked at Charity, his expressive brows raised in question. She latched onto his arm and squared around to the front. “Go ahead, sir. I’m ready now.”

  “Very good.” He directed a look over his spectacles at Mama, Mother Dane, and Emmy. “Now, ladies, if you’ll please take your seats, we’ll commence to marrying these two young folks.”

  Mother Dane and Emmy f
iled back to their pew, but Mama held her ground. “If it’s all the same to you, Reverend, I’ll stay close by until they’re hitched.” She tilted her chin at Charity. “Just in case.”

  The preacher nodded and adjusted his glasses. “I guess that’ll be all right, but I think it’s safe for you to turn loose of my arm now.”

  Mama stepped back after a warning glance at Charity and a sheepish grin for the preacher. He cleared his throat and began.

  “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, in the sight of God and man, to join this couple in the bonds of holy matrimony....”

  EPILOGUE

  Shamus Pike stood on the road outside the church. Red strained at the tether in his hand, pawing the ground and whining to get free.

  Before Charity could stop her, Mama stomped off the porch and across the chapel lawn. Charity tightened her grip on Buddy’s hand and hurried down the steps with the others falling in behind. “You’re too late, Shamus,” Mama spewed. “They’re married now. Whatever you hoped to gain by coming here won’t work. We’re onto your tricks.”

  Shamus held up his hands in surrender. “No tricks, Bertha, I swear.”

  “That’d be a stretch to believe. What are you doing here?”

  “I come to bring little Charity there a wedding present.” The strain on his face turned his weak smile into a grimace. “Found this old dog here over to Magda’s again yesterday morning and hauled him home.”

  The grimace grew wider, and he chuckled. “Weren’t even lunchtime before he was right back over there. Ain’t no rope will hold him, and I just can’t see penning him up all the time.”

  Mama took a step forward, her fists clenched. “We ain’t interested in your present or your story. Now clear out.”

  Charity gripped her arm. “Wait. Let him speak.”

  Shamus turned haunted eyes on Charity. “Red’s always looking for you, gal. He’s powerful spoilt to you of a sudden. I figure this hound has his heart set on where he wants to be, and I can’t fight it no more.” He held the rope out to her. “You’d be doing me a favor if you’d just go ahead and take him.”