by Jeff High
In contrast to the light-speed pace of the earlier hours, time now stopped. I did my best to occupy my thoughts, but with little success. I was jittery, edgy, uncertain as to what I should do with this pre-nuptial gap. The room also served as Joe’s library. But this wasn’t a time to start a book, or check e-mails, or catch up on baseball scores. So, I sat, occasionally checked my watch, and waited.
Long minutes later, however, I heard the footfalls and rustling of very animated female voices in the hallway. I couldn’t catch Christine’s in the mix, but I was certain that she and the bridesmaids had made their arrival. An amazing insight occurred to me. Of the endless details that I had dealt with throughout the day, there was one thing I hadn’t thought about: her.
It was a rush of blood to the head; a flushing, intoxicating, realization. That spirited, gorgeous woman I had so awkwardly met on that August morning was to be the one. Her presence had changed the arc of my life’s trajectory for all the days that would follow. I had captured her heart and she, mine. A grand, pleased smile inched across my face.
Yet admittedly, my thoughts then moved to a more primitive plane.
Perhaps like all men, somewhere deep within me was the awestruck schoolboy who awakens one morning to realize that all of his thoughts are consumed with the opposite sex. His entire world is dominated by that first obsessive primal awareness of curves, lips, hair, eyes. I was far from being an adolescent. But it seemed that the voice of that long-ago schoolboy was now murmuring in my ear, full of red-blooded anticipation of the fruit that soon would no longer be forbidden. He was shamelessly whispering, “You are about to be so lucky.” My smile sharpened to a proud, puckish grin. Indulging in the moment, I couldn’t have agreed more.
I glanced at my watch. The ceremony was still an hour away. Leaning back in the chair, I closed my eyes, blissfully unaware of the drama unfolding in the sanctuary.
As it turns out, in regard to my leaving town, the people of Watervalley didn’t necessarily hold a grudge. But they did hold an opinion. I had made a unilateral decision that affected their lives, yet they had been offered no opportunity to vote their point of view. Amazingly, the news of Matthew’s new role at the clinic was still largely unknown. Thus, the wedding ceremony served as a passive ballot box, a way to express a small note of resentment.
As the first guest arrived, they declared themselves as friends of the bride and were appropriately seated on the left side of the church. But quickly, a pattern emerged. Within twenty minutes, the entire left side of the church was full while the right side had only a dozen or so, including Mathew and his son Andrew along with the wives of the groomsmen. Later arrivals refused to be escorted to the right side and chose to simply stand along the outer left side wall. Eventually, people were backed up into the Narthex and the whole affair was about to reach a point of crisis.
That was, until Connie arrived.
Quickly assessing the situation, she walked to the front of the church, climbed two steps to the pulpit level, and turned toward the crowd with a look that would pulverize concrete.
“Listen up, folks. I know you’re all trying to prove a point here, but this is not the time or place. This is the wedding of two fine young people; not an opportunity to air your hurt feelings. So, if over the last two years, you or one of your loved ones have been affected in a positive way by Luke Bradford, then you need to get up and move to the other side. But, if by some miracle of the good Lord you don’t think that counts for anything, then by all means, keep your self-righteous fanny right where it is. Alright, people. I’ve said my piece. Now, what’s it going to be?”
I wasn’t there, but I was later given several accounts by friends who swore that upon finishing, Connie’s eyes exuded a strange orange heat. What followed was a near stampede as an entire block of people shifted to the right side of the church, causing the old building to moan under the burden. The narthex crowd backfilled the left side. But the transfer had been so absolute, Connie nearly had to redirect some of the migrants back across to the left side. Eventually, all the pew seats were filled and both outer walls were lined shoulder to shoulder. At the time, Christine and I were none the wiser. At four, Joe came and for me.
We entered from a side door near the front. From there I went and stood on the small X that had been taped to the floor. I was wearing an irrepressible smile and looking a lot more confident than I felt. Christine's mother and grandmother were escorted in and seated. The groomsmen moved to their appointed “X” on the floor and then, as the organ played, the bridesmaids each made a slow processional down the aisle and took their place...all nine of them. It was an eternity. I thought I might need to shave again by the time they finished.
What followed was an unexpected surprise. A bagpipe player, dressed in full regalia, made his way forward playing a distantly familiar tune. He stopped at the front to finish and while doing so, Adelyn House came with a basket of rose petals, carefully scattering them along the way. In her lacy white dress and with a light blue ribbon in her blonde hair, she looked absolutely angelic. She walked with a steady gait but was delightedly looking up at all the smiles around her. After reaching the front of the church, she threw out the last petal. Then, curiously, she winked at me in that overly accentuated manner of young children whose motor skills lacked subtlety. A moment later, the wedding march began.
Escorted by John, Christine appeared at the open Narthex doors and proceeded forward. She came proudly, her warm curves molded into her pristine wedding dress. Her every movement was fluid, full of effortless grace. As she grew closer, her smile was tender and melted. There was liquid stealth in her deep and adoring eyes, as if she were searching every nuance, every gesture of my affectionate gaze.
To my delight, I was stunned. Before me was a woman at the flawless pinnacle of her natural beauty, a rose that was yet to lose a single petal. But there was something more, something profound in her presence that I was yet to grasp. Except for the thin canopy of her veil, Christine’s shoulders and slender arms were fully exposed, revealing a tempting measure of her tanned and sumptuous skin. Against the crisp white of her dress, the combination was transcendent, a divine blend of regal and seductive. This seamless fusion of the virtuous and the sensuous was unforeseen, provocative, bewitching. Instantly, she went drunkenly to my head; an opiate that crowded out all else save for a burning escalation of both reverence and desire in equal measure. I was speechless, and my astonished face did little to hide it. If her intention was to astound me, she had overwhelmingly succeeded.
Joe began the ceremony, but his words fell away. All the candles, and the sounds, and the people, vanished. There was only Christine, looking at me with perfect brown eyes that were sweet, and affectionate, and yielding. I said the vows, knelt for the prayers, and heard the music. But my gaze was transfixed.
Spellbound into the deep well of her eyes, I was reminded of my previous revelation about this small place on earth. Christine and the incredible beauty of the valley were natural companions. There was something intrinsic and inseparable shared between them. In the warmth of her loving gaze, in the fresh and wholesome light of her face, there was something of the rolling fields, the wind and sky; the billowing grasses of the high meadows—earthy, sensuous, bursting with health. I knew that one day I would return, if for no other reason than to witness the animated splendor in Christine’s eyes as she breathed in the unvanquished air of this tucked-away valley, this small Eden.
It seemed that the ceremony had scarcely begun when I heard Joe pronounce the words, “Man and Wife,” and “You may kiss the bride.” I did so with gusto.
The explosive sound of the organ filled the church and we ecstatically made our way along the aisle and down the front steps before retreating along the side back to Joe’s office. The crowd departed for the reception while and pictures were taken in the sanctuary. Soon enough, we were in the back seat of John’s car and headed to Christine’s farmhouse where the grand gathering would soon begin. Christ
ine and I looked at each other with bursting smiles and yet with an easily acknowledged awkwardness. Everything up to this moment had been scripted. But now was different. Now was live. I spoke first.
“So, how do you feel Mrs. Bradford?”
She laughed, an open affirmation of the previous moment’s clumsiness. “I feel perfectly happy, Dr. Bradford. And you?”
“Never better.”
“You did just fine with the ceremony.”
“Thanks. By the way, I did say yes, didn’t I?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Good. That part was a little tricky.”
“I noticed that you seemed a little pre-occupied.”
“Well, Mrs. Incredible, Knock-Out, Gorgeous. Can’t imagine what in the world I might have been thinking about.”
Christine smiled demurely. “Are you saying you like my dress?”
“Yes. And I like what’s in it, too.”
Having heard this, John spoke abruptly from the front seat. “Okay, you two. Let’s try to maintain our PG rating for the balance of this little excursion.”
“My,” I said jovially. “Would you listen to Professor Prude up there.” I leaned forward and addressed him in a confidential voice. “It’s okay, John. The lady and I are married.”
John grunted. “Like hell. Legal does not equate to allowed.”
Christine and I giggled. “Not to worry,” I said. “I’m pretty sure no one in the aft compartment has any issues with impulse control.”
Christine immediately nudged me, offered a taunting grin, and spoke in an enticing whisper. “Speak for yourself.”
Chapter 52
BEAUTIFUL IN ITS TIME
THE RECEPTION WAS EVERY bit the grand affair that I had surreptitiously gathered it would be. Despite her normal reserve, Madeline Chambers had apparently decided to reaffirm to Watervalley that she was still a banker’s daughter. The channeling of her Cavanaugh roots undoubtedly found a kindred spirit in her mother-in-law, Mattie Chambers, whose perpetual saucy nature had no qualms with exacting a little one-upmanship to any of the valley’s blue-bloods, self-proclaimed or otherwise. This wedding and reception wasn’t just going to be the event of the season. It was going to be the event of a lifetime; a demarcation in the town’s social history. Additionally, it occurred to me that my being a doctor probably fit the script rather nicely.
There was not just one, but two bands. They took turns alternating between sessions of rock and country followed by jazz and big band music. The tables of food went on forever, containing a selection that would make a cruise ship Captain envious. And as would be expected, Bacchus made a grand appearance. Wine and beer were in plentiful supply, and mixed drinks were available provided one had patience and determination. There was an intentional funneling of access to the hard stuff...not so much in an effort to be penny-pinching, but more to provide a governor to those who had a propensity to go full throttle when it was free.
As was planned, a large drone circled high above, videoing all that was below and occasionally making a swooping dive for a close-up. Some of the more rough-hewn farmers saw this as a suspicious intrusion. One or two of them shouldered up to me with beer in hand and let it be known that their truck had a rifle rack and that they would be glad to take care of the annoyance. I convinced them to ease off of that idea for a while and then immediately found the drone operator, advising him to keep it high and wide.
Christine and I were constantly pulled away from each other for it seemed that everyone wanted their moment with us. I guess it was understandable. We were the reason they had come. At one point, John slid in beside me. He put his hand on my shoulder, never breaking his focus at the large crowd. “How are you holding up, sport?”
“I’m grand. Just taking it all in. Looks like our in-laws know how to throw a rather grand shindig.”
“You noticed, huh?”
“Yeah, the only thing missing is you being tucked away in a dark paneled room with a bunch of Mafioso types, granting wishes to the little people.”
“That sounds more like Connie’s department. She’s the one that parted the waters over at the church.”
“So, I heard.”
“I saw it unfolding. But Constance Grace was the one who knew how to fix it. She's always had that knack of finding the right words. God knows that's why I love her."
I grinned and briefly glanced at John in a gesture of acknowledgment. “Don’t we all.”
He exhaled a long, slow sigh. “Meanwhile, here we are in Watervalley. And that little stunt at the church is just a reminder that stupidity is never lacking.”
I shrugged and smiled. “They’re just people, John. Just folks of average destinies who struggle to understand why I feel so compelled to pursue work in the stiff, ivory-towered world of academia.”
“Eh, maybe you’re right. Anyway, looks like you’ll still have a toe back in this world.”
“That’s the plan. It’s worked out wonderfully. I think Matthew will do an excellent job.”
“Yeah, what about him anyway?”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t quite figure him out. I mean, it’s impossible not to like the guy. But I never feel like I know what he’s thinking. He scares me.”
I turned and faced John, dumbfounded. “He scares you?”
He was dismissive. “I’m not saying he frightens me. I’m just saying I can’t get a consistent read on him. He may be smarter than all of us.”
“Well,” I said, returning my gaze to the crowd. “That may very well be the case. And for the town’s sake, let’s hope so.”
John nodded. Spontaneously, it seemed our eyes were drawn to Christine who was in an animated conversation a short distance away. His eyes softened and spoke with muted pride. “You’ve won the grand prize with that one, Bradford.”
My response was low and breezy. “Oh, don’t I know it.”
“Her dad would have liked you.”
“Because I’m a doctor?”
He glanced at me sourly. “No. Albert Chambers wouldn’t give a rat’s ass about that. He would have liked you because you’re a good man. You’ve got a generous heart. You don’t give up on people. Christine got her poise and style from her mom. Madeline is a wholesome soul and a class act. But Christine got her grit and love of the soil from her dad. He was a noble man and an enduring friend.”
“Well, on that subject. Don’t you have a father-daughter dance coming up here shortly?”
“True enough. Not that I’m comfortable with it.”
“It’s a slow dance, John. Just let Christine lead.”
“That’s not what I meant, smartass.”
I laughed. “I know what you meant, John. But you’re a better man than you think. Life’s given you some tough chapters. But this is one day, one page that’s a good one. Christine adores you. She knows you’re not her dad. But she definitely has some of your fire. This is her day and you’re her surrogate father. Enjoy every second of it.” I paused a moment and looked him in the eye. “And John, thanks for everything.”
He shook my hand and said nothing more. For some time, we stood with each other and watched the roar and conversation of the crowd. He seemed grandly content to stay close, to keep in my company. I would miss him, and I got the sense that he was realizing the same.
Dozens more came by to congratulate me and shake my hand. By now word had spread about Matthew’s new role and that I would still have an arms-length involvement with the clinic. One by one, I could see a change in the eyes of these hearty, rugged men and women. The previous doubt was now replaced with an unspoken gratefulness. It seemed that the last vestige of any shadowy issues had been cleansed away. The day had attained an unforeseen perfection.
Soon afterward, while everybody watched, Christine and I performed the opening dance. It was delightful and slow. For some reason, we were beyond words and fully comfortable to simply smile adoringly at each other. A dance between John and Christine followed. As soon
as it began, I went and found Connie. She was seated and resistant to the idea. But I insisted and grabbed her hand.
“Come on, woman. You’re dancing with me.” Reluctantly, she agreed, and I led her to the dance floor. Our arrival brought out a low roar and applause from the crowd. Even Christine and John stopped and clapped. Connie draped her arm over my shoulder and I spoke in a low voice. “I understand you had to direct traffic a little back at the church.”
“Oh, it was nothing. Just a little teachable moment for a few of the neighbors.”
“Sorry I missed it. Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Tremendously, up until about four minutes ago when some fool asked me to dance.”
“And I love you, too, Connie.”
“Oh, stop it. I’m just afraid I’ll get all blubbery with everybody watching.”
“I think that would be fine, Connie. In fact, it might prove a point. Most of them think you don’t have a drop of water in you.”
“My, my. You are the charmer, aren’t you?”
I ignored her. “Connie, have I ever told you thank you?”
“For what?”
“For everything. For always being there. For taking care of me. For just being you.”
“It’s not necessary.”
“Okay. Fine, then. I won’t.”
“Don’t push your luck, doctor boy. ‘It’s not necessary,’ is only an expression.”
