She rushed us into the bathroom and began her … art.
Luckily Kristy was first. When Claudia tried to give her the finger-in-the-electric-socket punk look, Kristy blew up.
Afterward, Claud became a lot more conservative. She worked the kinks out of my hair and moussed it just enough to give it some shine and body. She hot-curled a wave into Dawn’s hair, then gathered some from the sides with these gorgeous silk-flower combs she’d bought.
As we were watching her work on Dawn, the doorbell rang. Jeff yelled out, “It’s the ups truck!”
“U.P.S.,” Mr. Schafer corrected him from upstairs. “Have Mrs. Bruen sign for it.”
A few minutes later we heard rumbling and grunting and thudding from the back door area. Kristy and I ran into the kitchen to see two men dumping box after box onto the floor of the outer hallway.
Mrs. Bruen looked horrified. Mr. Schafer was grinning.
“A wedding and Christmas at the same time,” Mr. Schafer said. “What a life!”
“Where are we going to put all this stuff?” Mrs. Bruen asked, shaking her head.
“No! No! Farther from the garage!” Mr. Schafer barged out the back door, yelling at the tent people.
The minute Dawn stepped out the door, Claudia cried, “Uh, uh! Not till you get sprayed. I don’t want my work ruined.”
We scampered back to the bathroom. Mrs. Bruen was now chasing Jeff around, holding out a suit in a dry cleaning bag. “Jeffrey, your father wants you to put this on.”
“No one wears a suit to the beach!” Jeff protested.
“Your father is wearing one,” Mrs. Bruen said.
“He’s getting married.”
“And you’re the best man.”
“So? That doesn’t mean I have to look stupid.”
Tsssssssssssss … The sound of the hairspray drowned out our giggling.
Next Dawn and I ran back upstairs. We grabbed our dresses out of the closet and put them on.
Funny. Mine felt way too big. Had I lost weight since the day before?
I considered wearing my own dress until I looked at Dawn. Her dress came up to her knees.
“Gaaack,” she muttered.
We exploded with laughter. Then we switched dresses.
Claudia barged into the room with a gorgeous corsage for Dawn.
“Which side am I supposed to wear it on?” Dawn asked.
They talked and fussed. Quickly I grabbed my journal and wrote in it.
Finally Mrs. Bruen called up, “We’re leaving in five minutes!”
We rushed downstairs. Claudia ran around fixing everybody’s hair. Mrs. Bruen ran around with a necktie, chasing Jeff. Mr. Schafer ran around giving last minute instructions to all the workers. Now caterers were in the kitchen, running around with huge trays of food.
Dawn and I had nothing to do. So we ran around, too — to keep from going crazy.
Phweeeeeeet!
A familiar whistle sounded in the living room. “Everyone into the car!” Kristy shouted.
Yes, President Kristy had brought her coach’s whistle all the way from Connecticut.
Dawn and I hugged each other good-bye. Claudia, Kristy, Mrs. Bruen, and I ran out to the car.
Mrs. Bruen started it up. I held my breath and squeezed Kristy’s hand.
We were on our way.
“Easy on the gas, sweetheart.”
Carol was being very patient with my dad. He was driving like a maniac.
He’s bad enough, normally. But on his wedding day, I guess the road was not the first thing on his mind.
I was sitting in the backseat. Next to me, Jeff was squirming, knotting and unknotting his tie.
“Turn left here, dear,” Carol said to Dad.
Screeeeek!
Dad turned all right. Too bad he hadn’t done it more slowly.
“Who-o-o-oa!” Jeff cried out, falling backward over my lap.
Dad stabilized the car. A horn blared outside. I gently pushed Jeff back up. He went back to work on his tie. Carol was biting her nails.
Strange. Looking at the front seat of the car, seeing the backs of two heads, I kept thinking of Mom.
I have a picture in my mind, from years and years of riding in the back of this same car — and in that picture, Mom is always the person next to Dad. I see them singing, joking, leading us in car games. At least, that’s what I remember when I was a little girl.
But I also remember the later rides, when I was older. Mom and Dad would try to be all nice and cheerful around Jeff and me, but they’d hardly say a word to each other. When they were looking forward, their faces were like stone.
After the divorce, it was hard to picture my parents married to other people. I adjusted to Mom’s remarriage, because I adored Mary Anne and her dad. But as for my dad? Well, for a long time I wasn’t sure I liked Carol. She can go overboard, trying to seem young and cool. Not long after I came to California, she and Dad broke up. I think Carol was jealous of the attention Dad was giving me.
I’d been jealous, too. Part of me was glad they split.
But part of me missed Carol. And now, seeing the two of them on the drive to the beach, I knew why.
Dad was like his old self. (Except for the nervousness. But I think getting married is a good excuse for that.) I could tell he was happy. I could see the way his eyes would dart over to Carol. And I could see how he relaxed when she put her arm around him.
I was happy. Dad was doing the right thing.
Believe it or not, he got us to the beach in one piece. Someone had cordoned off a bunch of parking spaces with traffic cones and blue-and-white crepe paper.
In the center of the line of cars, near a large crowd of dressed-up people, was a huge space.
Claudia, Maggie, and Sunny were standing in it. Claud started waving her arms. “Here! Here!”
Dad drove smoothly in. The crowd began moving toward us, but I could see Kristy urging everyone back onto the sand.
She did not, however, use her whistle. (Thank goodness.)
Carol’s face had changed. Her skin was pale. Her eyes were egg-sized.
“How’s my hair?” she asked.
“Beautiful,” Dad replied.
“Did I sweat through my makeup?”
“No, sweetheart.”
“Where are my flowers?”
Dad lifted them off the seat next to her. “Right here.” He threw us a wink. “How’s our bridal party?”
“Fine,” I said.
“Do I have to wear this tie?” Jeff whined.
Dad chuckled. “After I kiss the bride, you can take it off and throw it in the air.”
Jeff’s face lit up. “All riiiiight!”
“Okay, everybody,” Carol said. “Let’s go.”
I opened my door and stepped out. The air was cool, but the sun seemed pretty strong. I hoped Mary Anne had worn a lot of sunblock. Aside from the wedding guests, not too many people were on the beach (even in California, December isn’t always beach weather).
Mary Anne, Claudia, and Kristy had done a great job. The crowd had split in the middle. Just beyond them stood Reverend Gunness, a freckle-faced woman with a crinkly, welcoming grin.
The members of the Baby-sitters Club and the We Kids Club were hanging around together, all smiles. Off to one side stood a group of Carol’s and Dad’s friends. One of them started strumming a guitar. The others, who were holding sheets of paper, began to sing, “ ’Tis the gift to be simple, ’tis the gift to be free.”
Their voices drifted across the beach. The song was so beautiful I almost forgot what I had to do.
“Link arms!” Mrs. Bruen whispered to Jeff and me.
I held out my left arm.
Jeff looked as if I’d handed him a dead fish. “Do we have to?”
“Yes!” said all the rest of us.
With a disgusted grunt, he limply took hold of my elbow. Oh, well, we take what we get.
To the sound of the music and the gentle waves, Jeff and I walked up the aisl
e.
Some of the guests were wearing sunglasses, so I couldn’t tell whether they were teary-eyed. But the others couldn’t hide it.
I caught a glimpse of Mary Anne. She wasn’t teary-eyed. She was past that stage. Water was cascading down her cheeks. If she were any nearer the surf, she’d make the tide rise.
I smiled at her and gave a little wave.
Jeff and I stood on either side of Reverend Gunness, who was beaming.
I turned to face Dad and Carol. They had held back, so they could proceed down the “aisle” by themselves.
They began walking, slowly. They held hands. Carol pressed her bouquet to her chest. Her dress billowed gently behind her. She waved to her family, who were clustered together up front. Small tear rivers were running down her face.
Dad’s head was high. He was smiling so hard I thought his cheeks would break. His tie flapped over his shoulder, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or care.
He looked about college-age. Like photos of him from when I was a baby. I couldn’t believe the difference. I just stared and stared at him.
When he and Carol finally stopped, his eyes met mine. I could see them go glassy all of a sudden.
He blinked, and a tear slowly dropped off his eyelash.
That was when I lost it. I sobbed just as Reverend Gunness said “Dearly beloved.”
But no one seemed to care. I sure didn’t. The reverend kept reciting. I kept on crying. Jeff managed to dig the rings out of his pocket. Dad and Carol said “I will,” loudly and clearly.
And when it was all over, the crowd burst into cheers.
The singers’ voices rang out again. People were shaking hands, laughing, rushing toward the happy couple.
Mary Anne ran toward me, arms open.
“He did it!” she cried. “He did it!”
We squeezed each other tightly. Mary Anne was crying so hard, her shoulders were heaving. I realized how much this wedding meant to her. Her own life had changed so wonderfully when her dad found happiness. She wanted the same for me.
And that was more important than my horrible foul-up, a casual beach wedding, and an unwanted dress.
I am so lucky.
My eyes misted over again. Before I buried my face into Mary Anne, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye.
It was Jeff’s paisley tie, flying high overhead.
“These seats are too hard.”
“Do I have to go to Sunday school?”
“I’m firsty!”
“Thirsty! Can you say th?”
“Fffff.”
“How come they have cushions on the floor?”
“Where’s Mommy?”
“My collar is too tight.”
“Taylor stepped on my shoe!”
Welcome to the Barrett-DeWitt wedding.
The words were flying all around me. Who was saying what? I’m not sure (except that Ryan DeWitt is the one who hasn’t got the th sound yet).
Mallory and I had our hands full.
At first we thought it wouldn’t be too bad. Buddy and Lindsey are the two biggest mischief makers, and they were to be in the wedding, as ring bearer and flower girl.
So our mission was to stay in the back pew with the remaining children of Mrs. Barrett (Suzi and Marnie) and Franklin (Taylor, Madeleine, and Ryan).
No other kids were there. Mrs. Barrett said that kids often are not invited to weddings.
I thought that was kind of cruel.
Until we sat with the kids in church.
“I have to go I have to go I have to go!” Madeleine said, tugging on my nice new silk blouse.
“I’ll take her,” Mallory whispered.
An older couple was walking down the aisle. The wife was arm in arm with an usher. She and her husband gave us a withering glance (I read that expression in a book and it’s perfect).
Fortunately it was still early. The organist was playing softly in the choir loft overhead. Guests were straggling in.
The three ushers were dressed in gray morning coats, which are like tuxes with long tails. One of them looked a little bored, until he saw the kids.
He wandered over to us, smiling, and held out a quarter in his open palm. “See this?” he asked.
The kids nodded. The usher rubbed his hands together and opened them again. They were empty.
“Oops, I see it!” he suddenly exclaimed, then reached behind Taylor’s ear and pulled out — the quarter.
“Whoa!” Taylor said in awe.
As the kids oohed and aahed, a woman walked up behind the usher and said, “Hrrrrmph. I’m a friend of the bride.”
“Oops, excuse me.” The usher took the woman’s arm and guided her to a seat.
“I can do that trick,” Suzi said. “Shannon, can I have a quarter?”
“Sssh,” I urged.
“I have a nickel,” Taylor offered.
Suzi frowned. “It might not work with a nickel.”
“We’re back!” shouted Madeleine. “They have wooden toilets —”
“Madeleine, shhh!” Mallory hissed, her face turning bright red.
“This is boring,” Suzi commented.
“Don’t say that,” Taylor warned her. “Your mom is getting married.”
“Why?” Suzi asked.
Taylor rolled his eyes. “Because she’s old. She has to have a husband!”
“Whaaat?” I spoke up. “No law says a woman has to have a husband.”
“Your mom is marrying Franklin because she loves him,” Mallory explained.
“Eeeewwwww.” Taylor and Suzi broke into giggles.
“Who do you love, Mallory? Ben Hobart?” Suzi teased.
Mal turned beet red.
WHONNNNNNNK!
The organ suddenly blared out. Madeleine screamed. Marnie jumped into Mallory’s lap. Ryan burst into hysterical tears.
A loud fanfare began. Now lots of guests were arriving. The ushers were running around like penguins. I heard a voice saying, “She’s here!”
I lifted Ryan to my shoulder and stood up. Mallory was already walking Marnie back and forth.
“Look, Marnie,” Suzi called out above the music. “It’s Barney! Look!” She began grinning, moving stiffly, and clapping her hands. “Hi, boys and girls!”
“Shhhh!” said a man a few rows ahead of us.
Suzi plopped down into the pew. She looked crushed. “I was just trying to cheer her up.”
“I thought you were trying to scare her,” Taylor remarked.
“Sssshhhh!” Mallory and I said.
With a frustrated sigh, Taylor sat next to Suzi, arms folded.
“Too noisy!” Ryan cried out.
“It’s music,” Madeleine explained.
Suzi began sniffling. She was still smarting from the stranger who had shushed her.
“TOO NOISY!” Ryan shrieked.
“Time to go,” I whispered to Mallory. I walked toward the center aisle with Ryan. My instructions had been clear: If any of the kids started being a major nuisance during the ceremony, they were to be brought to the church nursery in the basement.
The ceremony hadn’t started yet, but I knew it was naptime for Ryan. And one of the first things a baby-sitter learns is that a missed nap makes a cranky toddler.
I zipped out into the aisle. I turned toward the back of the church.
I came face-to-face with Buddy and Lindsey. Behind them was a line of ushers and bridesmaids, arm in arm. Stacey was the second bridesmaid. She was looking at me as if I’d lost my mind.
Gulp. Wrong aisle.
DA-DAHH-DA-DAAAAAHHH! The organist was playing a wedding march. The ceremony had begun.
I spun around. Ryan clutched my shoulders tighter.
“Daddy!” he yelled.
Sure enough, Franklin was at the alter, waiting for Mrs. Barrett. He smiled at Ryan and waved.
“WANNA GO TO DADDY!”
I flew into the side aisle. Ryan and I were out the door and heading for the nursery before he could utter another
peep.
How was the wedding?
Beats me. I spent it watching a little boy asleep in a portable crib.
“Oh you look adorable!” said Andrea the bridesmaid as she touched up my eyeliner.
Jennifer, the other bridesmaid, smiled at my reflection in the mirror of the women’s room in the church. “I wish I had skin like that.”
“I wish I had her hair,” remarked Randi, Mrs. Barrett’s sister and maid of honor.
Andrea, Jennifer, and Randi were much older than I was. At first I felt uncomfortable about that. But they were so nice to me.
And it felt great to be fussed over.
“Arrrgh!” Randi was frantically trying to keep her hair from coming to a point on the left side of her head. “Great, my sister’s a bride, and I’m the Bride of Frankenstein.”
“Where are my flowers?” Jennifer asked. “Flowers? Oh, flowers? Where did you go?”
“Here, flowers!” Andrea called out, then whistled as if she were calling a dog.
Randi cracked up. “Aw-roooo! Arf! Arf!”
The door opened up and an old woman walked in. “Hello, girls,” she said, looking around the room. “Is there a little pooch in here?”
“No, ma’am, it was the maid of honor,” Andrea replied with a straight face.
Jennifer, Randi, and I howled.
The woman gave us a curious smile and gestured toward one of the stalls. “I imagine that must belong to you — or else this is some fancy church.”
We looked in to see a corsage propped up behind a toilet paper roll. “That’s where I put them!” Jennifer said.
I didn’t think I’d make it upstairs. My stomach hurt from laughing so much. It was like a BSC meeting, only older.
Somehow we managed to leave the women’s room looking dignified. Calm.
We walked upstairs to the front hallway of the church. The organ was honking away. The ushers were busy ushing. Buddy and Lindsey were standing around looking frightened.
“Stacey,” Randi said, “can you remind the kids what they have to do?”
I gave Buddy and Lindsey a big, reassuring smile. I descibed everything we had done the night before, in our rehearsal at the church.
The front door was open. As I was talking, I could see a stretch limo pull up to the front.
“She’s here!” someone called out.
Here Come the Bridesmaids! Page 7
