Chapter Seven – Well, Do You?
Khloe wasn’t getting changed or marrying anyone giving her orders with such highhanded tactics. That may have worked for him as the owner and boss man of his little communications company up in the mountains, but it didn’t work for her. If he took to drinking in the middle of the day, then she would drive herself back to Chicago and live in a hotel until she figured out what was next. She did match with the man in Arizona and the apple grower in Vermont. There were choices other than the burly brute.
Leaving an open-mouthed Sarah Jean to call behind her yelling, “Wait, pretty Black lady!” Khloe marched across the street to the Whistle Wetter Bar and Café, which was just a diner that sold liquor shots. Beau sat on one of the four bar stools at the counter, swirling dark liquor in a glass. Khloe took a seat beside him, looking at the gal behind the counter who stood frozen gawking at her.
“Brandy please,” she told the woman. “Is this a habit of yours, drinking in the middle of the day?”
“No, I just needed to calm my nerves,” he said, clenching his hand around the semi-clean glass. Khloe nodded to the girl behind the counter, thanking her for the drink which had been placed upon the counter.
“If you are having second thoughts, let me know. There will be no hard feelings,” she said.
Beau picked up the glass, gazing at the brown contents, wanting to gulp it down in one swallow, but she needed to know where he was in his head. The last thing he wanted her to do was leave. All morning he’d been on pins and needles worried she would chicken out and not come, yet when he saw the silver Rubicon roll down the street and park, he knew it was her. His mail-order bride had come, not via wagon train, but a 285-horse powered Jeep engine. Unable to take his eyes off the car, when the door opened and that long leg attached to the cute sexy sandal-covered foot touched the ground, he nearly squealed in delight. Her thick head of curly hair and the ebony skin made him long for the wedding night he promised her they would wait to have. The picture didn’t do her justice. She was downright pretty. And here to marry him.
“If you look at your life as if it were a large puzzle, logically, you would start by sorting out the pieces, finding the edges to make a frame,” he told her. “As you come back to the pile of pieces, the search begins for patterns and shapes to make the image come to life. Over time, all the pieces come together until that last little section, which is intricate in detail, and needs to be put together in a certain order.”
He looked at her. The smooth dark skin begged him to touch her, caress the softness which oozed from the pores and nurture the unsmiling woman inside. The deep brown eyes looking at his mouth as he said the words. Her eyes finally meeting his.
“You are the last piece,” he said. “I feel luckier than a pig in mud on a hot August day and my hands can’t stop shaking. Lady, you are one amazing package. Please tell me you aren’t crazy, on medication for bipolar disorder, or have a truck full of cats or garden gnomes with stupid names.”
“Well, when you walked out of your office and left me standing there like an idiot, I started to believe I was nuts,” she said, “but no, I’m not on any regular medication. Bi-polar either, and I’m allergic to cats. The garden gnome thing might be cute once I see the garden but I did bring a good set of china and tablecloths for the holidays. I wasn’t sure if you entertained big clients so I wanted to have fancy dishes to make a grand impression.”
“You made a grand impression on me when you walked into my offices and told my assistant you’d come to marry me,” he said. “I didn’t know whether to kiss you or club you across the head and drag your feet first to the Courthouse.”
Khloe’s lips began to twitch, wiggling back and forth as if she were trying to tie a cherry stem with her tongue. She pressed them together to stop the action so he wouldn’t think she had a form of Tourette’s.
“What are you doing with your mouth?”
“I think my lips were trying to form a smile, but it felt weird,” she said. “I made it stop.”
Beau burst into laughter. A deep, hearty chest laugh and for the life of her, she wanted to lean her head against his chest to hear it up close. A gentle giant Coraline had said.
“This is gonna be good,” he said, smiling at her. The poker face gave back no reaction but her eyes said it all. He would learn to read those eyes as they became comfortable with each other. “You bring a dress to get hitched in?”
“I have an appropriate dress in the car,” she said.
“Well, we don’t want to keep the Magistrate waiting since we have an appointment,” Beau told her. “Grab your things, head into my office, and get dolled up, and I will come for you...no wait. I’m not supposed to see you before the wedding, right?”
“In this case, we will be okay,” she said.
“No, don’t want to jinx my luck. I’ll have Sarah Jean accompany you over,” he said. “I have my jacket and tie over there in my office. Let me get that while you get your suitcase.”
“You’re used to giving orders, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, you used to following’ em?”
“No, I’m used to giving them as well,” she said. “A few adjustments are going to be needed on both our parts. I don’t blindly follow orders. ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’ work well with me, Beauregard Montgomery.”
He was smiling again. A big toothed, well maintained, pearly white smile of a man who took care of his teeth. That was a plus, she thought.
“Yes’m,” he said. “Will you please go get your shit and get dolled up for me so I can slip a ring on that finger and call you mine from this day forward?”
“Sure, right after you go and put on that necktie so I can yank on it every time you forget to say please and thank you,” she told him, squinting under his gaze.
He started laughing again.
“I don’t know about making you smile, but dang gummit, I sure as hell am smiling more today that I have in the last year,” he said, raising his glass. “A toast to us.”
Khloe raised her glass as well, repeating, “To us.”
A clink of dirty glasses sealed the deal as both threw back the contents of the glasses, wiped their mouths, and exhaled deeply. He offered her his arm, which she accepted, and they walked across the street to her car. A valise and a dress bag in hand, she went inside the office and changed into the simple white dress and added a strand of pearls and high heeled white pumps.
Sarah Jean waited for her, snapping photos with her phone, chatting 50 miles a minute about not seeing a Black person up close before. She thanked Khloe for being so nice, then asked how she and her boss met, if she lived in a ghetto and was escaping a rough life in the projects to come live in fresh air.
“Darling,” Khloe said to Sarah Jean. “I’m pretty nervous as is and you aren’t helping any.”
“Sorry,” Sarah Jean said as she opened the door to the small Courthouse and led Khloe down a small hall into the Office of the Magistrate.
A man with hair so red he looked like Heat Miser, sat behind a desk. Beau was not in the room, and a wave of panic overcame her. The baby’s breath in her hair fell down over her eyes, making her fumble to get it back in place.
“I got that,” Sarah Jean said. “Ooh, your hair is so soft, like cotton balls. I thought it would be brittle and dry.”
Khloe gave her a sister girl look of sit yo ass down, but she needed a friendly face. Sarah Jean was all she had. Her vision blurred a tad and her legs felt wobbly. The man with the ridiculous red hair was at her side, holding her by the elbow.
“Get her some water, Sarah Jean,” the man said. “I am Jethro Montgomery, the Magistrate, and your soon-to-be cousin-in-law. Beau is in the other room waiting for you, along with a bridesmaid and a few wedding guests. Let me know when you are ready to go in.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I just need a moment and a bite to eat – feeling a bit lightheaded.”
“We have vittles for after the nuptials,” Jethro said. “Jol
ene over at the diner put together a nice little spread.”
Sarah Jean handed her the water, and she sipped greedily wishing she hadn’t drunk the brandy on an empty stomach. Jethro, she thought that was his name, got her up on wobbly legs and moving towards another room. He tapped on the door three times, and a bigger red headed version of the Magistrate came out of the room.
“Oh shit,” Khloe said taking a step back.
“This here’s my Pa, Big Red. He is going to escort you down the aisle since your Pap ain’t here,” Jethro informed her, placing her hand on the big man’s arm as he clapped his hands, calling everyone to places. Music started in the background making her head snap around to locate the intrusive sound.
Khloe had never heard Mendelssohn’s Wedding March played on a banjo before. The crisp clear sound filled the small room, neatly decorated with paper wedding bells and a food table covered in a white tablecloth. An older woman with graying hair that used to be almost honey blond stepped forward.
“Dearie, you need something blue,” the lady said. “Here, take my handkerchief which will serve as your something old, borrowed, and blue.”
“Thank you so much,” Khloe said, accepting the token.
Beauregard waited for her as she walked down the created aisle on what appeared to be a laid out roll of family size white paper towels. She wouldn’t complain, at least someone had made the effort to make the Courthouse wedding ceremony as pretty as they could. For this, Oh Lord, I give thanks.
She reached the front of the room to stand beside her groom-to-be. To his right stood an older and smaller replica of the man she was marrying, minus a full set of teeth. He frowned at Khloe as her mouth twitched again in an effort to form a smile. It didn’t work.
On her left stood a sandy red-headed woman who said, “Hey Gurl, let’s do this!”
“Okaaay,” Khloe said as she faced forward, looking at the man named Jethro. She blinked several times realizing he was also going to marry her and Beau.
“Who gives this woman in matrimony?” Jethro asked.
“I guess that’s me, but she ain’t really mine to give,” Big Red said.
“Pa, just say it’s you,” Jethro scolded.
“Fine, here, take her,” Big Red said, giving her a small push in Khloe’s back. “I don’t know her no how!”
“Pa, just sit down,” Jethro said.
“You may be the Magistrate, and I still don’t know what that means other than you’ve turned into Mr. Bossy Britches,” Big Red said to his son, “but that don’t make you the boss of me! I’m still your Pappy!”
“Yes’sir, Pap, but will you please take a seat?” Jethro asked changing his tone.
“I’m sitting down ‘cause my knees a’aching, not ‘cause you told me to,” Big Red said, brushing his thumb across his nose like a martial arts fighter in a Bruce Lee film. As long as he didn’t yell, “Right! Get her!” Khloe was fine. Her eyes focused on the man about to marry her to Beau.
“We are gathered here today to join Khloe Reneta Burgess to our very own Beauregard Sherman Montgomery in holy matrimony,” Jethro said.
The woman with graying honey blond hair wailed as Khloe turned around. Both the bridesmaid, the replica of Beauregard, and the man himself all said in unison, “Ma!”
“Sorry, he just looks so handsome and she looks like a skinny black baby doll,” Honey said. “I just want to kiss her and play with her hair.”
Khloe’s hands fisted in an effort to hold onto the sweat balls forming in her palms as Jethro cleared his throat.
“Do you, Khloe Burgess, take this man, to be your lawfully wedded husband, of your own free will and volition, and no one has pressured you into doing so,” Jethro asked.
“I guess...I do,” Khloe said.
“You can’t guess and just say I do,” Jethro instructed. “You have to repeat the words verbatim.”
“Oh, for the sake of Jesus’ blood, Jethro, you are taking this job of yours too serious,” the replica of Beau said.
“She has to repeat the words as I have instructed,” Jethro said, sticking out his chest. “Now, Ms. Burgess, please repeat the words.”
Exhaling, she turned to Beau. “I, Khloe Renata Burgess, take you, Beauregard Sherman Montgomery, to be my lawfully wedded husband, of my own free will, and volition and no one has pressured me into doing such.”
“Thank you. Now you, Beau,” Jethro said.
“I do,” he said.
“Beau, you have to repeat it as it was said unto you,” Jethro demanded.
“Stop being a donkey’s ass, Jethro, and let’s get this over and done,” Beau countered.
“Ooh girl, he is anxious to get to that treehouse,” her bridesmaid said.
The Beau replica leaned around his brother, “Yeah, it’s been a while for him. He is going to wear your ass out tonight.”
Beau elbowed him in the stomach as Jethro called for the rings. He handed one to Khloe who refused it and took a string from the inside of her dress which held a silver-toned ring. Steady hands undid the knot, freeing the platinum band with one shiny citrine in the middle. She slid it upon his left ring finger and he slid one similar onto her hand with a red ruby in the middle.
“I got you a ring because I didn’t think you knew the size of his bear paw,” Jethro said.
“No, I have it covered,” Khloe responded.
“Good. Good,” Jethro replied. “By the power vested in me by the Commonwealth of Tennessee, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
The banjo player began picking as Beau lowered his head, his lips touching Khloe’s, his hands at his side. She pressed her mouth to his, feeling sparks shoot down her sides before he pulled away. The bridesmaid, as Khloe turned, slapped her in the face with a handful of rice.
“Damn,” Khloe said, brushing the hard grains out of her hair and nose.
“You are going to clean that up, Katy Mae Montgomery,” Jethro said, pointing at the rice grains on the floor.
“Am not,” she said. “What are you going to do, write me a citation for rice throwing?”
“Cut it out, all of you,” Beau said. “Khloe, this part of my family. My mother, Honey, my sister Katy Mae, this here is my brother, Lil Bo’, you met my Uncle, Big Red, and our Magistrate, Jethro Montgomery.”
“Pleasure to meet you all,” she said.
“Hugs. Hugs, and pictures,” Honey called out, snapping photos with her phone. No one had a camera, but they all had phones, so lights flashed, and the banjo player decided to pull out his repertoire of fun family songs. He was picking and everyone was grinning. The chaffing dishes were uncovered with foods Khloe was surprised she recognized. Of course, there was a hearty helping of fried chicken, what looked like collard greens loaded with chunks of pork fat, cornbread, and what she assumed were chitterlings. All the things she didn’t eat.
Khloe was grateful for the crudités which is what she snacked on. Honey, who had been dying to get her alone, sidled up to her. “I know you lost your Ma, but if we need to talk about what happens on the wedding night, I’m here for you,” Honey said.
“I think I’ll be able to figure it out,” Khloe said, looking in the same green eyes she’d gifted to her son.
“Good for you,” Honey said, giving Khloe the side eye. “Can I touch your hair?”
“No,” Khloe said, trying to give the woman a smile.
“What is wrong with your lips, you having a conniption fit or somethin’?” Honey asked. “My cousin, Francine, I think she had a penis allergy. Every time her husband would mention it was sexy time, her lips would twitch like that too. Are you afraid of Beau’s penis?”
“No ma’am, I was trying to give you a smile in my refusal of your offer to play in my hair. It is offensive to a Black woman to ask such a liberty,” Khloe said. “And, please, talking about your son’s penis is uncomfortable.”
“Well, will Beau be able to yank on it when you’re celebrating your nuptials? Your hair, not his penis, I me
an. It won’t come out like one of them waves,” Honey said.
“I think you mean weaves. No, this is my hair,” she said, maintaining the poker face she was known for.
“Lordy be, I may need to let Beau know he can’t play with your hair,” she said to Khloe.
“He can play with it any time he likes, just not you or your family,” Khloe told her. “It would greatly be appreciated if you spread the word.”
“Of course,” Honey said, patting her hand. She turned to the small group. “Everyone, no one can play in Khloe’s hair but Beau, so don’t ask. It’s offensive to Black women. Spread the word.”
Three people said aww and two others groaned as she looked at her new husband, whose cheeks were red as fire. Katy Mae bragged about the fried chicken and mustard greens as she loaded up plates for Khloe and Beau to take home to eat on after the hard loving they would have tonight.
“Add some of my biscuits and jam with them plates, Katy Mae,” Honey called out.
“Already did Ma,” the girl called back. “Khloe asked Beau for my cell number and call me if you need anything.”
“I appreciate it,” Khloe said.
“It can get lonely in these parts, especially during the Winter, although I know you are going to be busy with the clinic and all. There are at least three people up in them hills with a rash that won’t go away who will be your first customers,” she said with a lopsided grin.
“Glad I will at least have clients,” she said to her sister-in-law.
“Oh, you’re gonna have lots of clients and loads to do,” Katy Mae said. “Welcome to the family.”
The banjo player eased out of the music as everyone gathered around by the door. Khloe prayed she wasn’t going to get slapped in the face with more rice as hand-in-hand she and her new husband walked down the line of Montgomerys into their new life together as husband and wife.
“Lil’ Bo, pick me up in the morning for work,” Beau told his brother, then to Khloe he said, “We’ll drive your car to the house.”
The seat had to be pushed back as far as it could go to accommodate the height of the man she now called husband. Seated inside the Jeep next to him, looking down at the wedding ring, nervousness creeped inside of her. He said no wedding night, but the way he looked at her made her think the big man had changed his mind.
The Tennessee Mountain Man Page 7
