A Shotgun Wedding:
A Romantic Comedy in Which Will Gets Married – But Not to Taita
By Katie Leffel
Dedication
For Devon: My good friend and fellow writer. Thanks for being there all these years.
For Mae Mae: Thanks for the encouragement as I wrote the rough drafts for this story.
And, of course, to all the folks at KU: It’s been awesome guys. This never would have been written without you. I’ve really enjoyed rp-ing with you all for the past two and a half years, and I really value all of the friendships and fond memories I’ve made here.
Some Notes: This is a rom-com with shameless references to television shows such as The Andy Griffith Show and Walker, Texas Ranger. That’s what I grew up watching – that and JAG and NCIS. Does that say something about me?
This is also a shameless satire of the rural mountain areas in the South. So everything the Turners say you need to read with the thickest Southern accent you can come up with.
The Peanut Incident
What an understatement.
A high wail ripped through the fir trees, made the cool of the day boil over, and shook the fog-hidden roots of the mountains.
“NOOOOOO. . .”
Earnest T. Bass got the hell out of that convenience store –
“YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME EARNEST T. BASS!”
– and ran like hell down the dust road –
“YOU CAN’T JILT ME TODAY OF ALL DAYS!”
– and took off in the direction of the fishing hole like all hell was after him – But all the hordes of hell were nothing compared to a woman scorned –
“DON’T EVER SLEEP EARNEST T. ‘CAUSE THE CURSE O’ TH’ ‘SHROOMS IS ON YOU!”
– and probably kept running until he was clear into the next valley, because God knew he could never show his face in this town again.
A young woman, her face red and tear-streaked and contorted with fury, burst out of the door and shrieked curses at Earnest T.’s rapidly retreating back. The wind disheveled her short blonde hair and whipped it around her fair face and in her brown eyes. Her father, a barrel with a mustache on top, and her three lanky brothers all came out and stood around her. They too were cursing and hollering and carrying on. In a moment, they would all go get their shotguns and go explain to Earnest T. why it was a very bad idea to jilt Agnes Turner the day before her wedding.
A few seconds after Earnest T. had disappeared down the road, from around the bend in the track came the rumble of a car engine and the crunch of wheels on dirt. A moment later, a silver car came rolling up the road. The mob of enraged Turners slowly grew quieter and quieter as the car came closer and closer, and then slowed to a stop a few meters out front of the station. There were two passengers, the driver and someone curled up asleep in the front passenger seat. The men opened their mouths slightly and forgot to close them again, and Agnes stopped crying and started hiccupping instead.
The driver was a man in his early thirties. He wore dark sunglasses and his hair had a distinctly military cut to it. He paused to survey the station for a moment, and then he turned off the engine and got out of the car. He had a rangy build, a keen watchfulness about him, and a muted presence. Anyone who knew fighter pilots knew this was a fighter pilot. “Good afternoon,” he said, and he smiled politely. “Ya’ll got fuel?”
Agnes hiccupped loudly.
“Uh… er…” Mr. Turner’s mouth flapped helplessly for a moment. “Fuel? Yeah, yeah, fuel. Don’t got premium, just reg. Reg fine?”
“Sure, sure,” the stranger said, nodding.
“Boys’ll take care of your car.” Mr. Turner thumped his two oldest sons on the shoulders.
The boys, Walker, Texas, and Ranger, scuttled to obey.
The stranger asked, “Ya’ll got a bathroom?”
“Yessir,” Mr. Turner said, “Just inside. Got boiled peanuts too.”
The man’s lips creased in a smile. “Been a long time since I’ve had any of those.”
“Well come on inside, Agnes’ll make you up the best peanuts in the valley.” Mr. Turner shooed his daughter into the station with instructions to fetch some large Styrofoam cups of the hottest boiled peanuts they had.
“Sounds good to me.” The stranger circled around his car to the front passenger door and opened it. Someone was slumped asleep against the door and stirred when he murmured. “Hey, wake up. . . Yeah, I’m stopping for fuel. . . You want to get out and use the bathroom? Get a snack?”
He held the door as a woman yawned, stretched, uncurled from her blanket and pillow, and got out of the car. While the Turner boys were taking care of the car, the couple went inside the station.
Inside, there were a few shelves of food and common travel amenities, a large cooler full of ice cubes and cans of soda, and a large billboard plastered over with layers of old flyers. There was a counter and behind that a rack of tobacco products and a roll of lottery tickets.
“Bathroom’s down that aisle, in the back,” Mr. Turner said, looking up briefly from the disassembled shotgun on the counter. He was wiping the barrel down with a soft cloth.
The woman disappeared immediately down the indicated aisle. Her companion selected some drinks from the cooler and snacks off the rack. He carried them over to the register to pay.
“Where’re you and your wife headed?” Mr. Turner asked as he rang up the purchases and added the charges for gas and car service.
“Landing,” the stranger said, fishing his wallet out of his pants pocket, “And she’s not my wife.”
“I see.” Mr. Turner’s eyes narrowed and he looked fixedly down at the register.
“Oh no, it’s nothing like that,” said the man. “We’re just old friends. I was headed home after a deployment, and Taita was coming back after visiting some family near Nanacagawea. Her brother asked me to personally escort her home, keep her out of trouble.” A small wry smile twisted his lips.
“Well, that’s alright then. You still want those peanuts?”
“Please. Two cups.”
“Agnes’ll have ‘em for ya in a minute,” Mr. Turner said, adding the price for two cups of boiled peanuts to the total. “That’ll be thirty-seven cred.” He started dropping everything into a plastic bag.
“Sure,” the stranger said, counting the cash out of a worn billfold and handing it over.
Mr. Turner accepted it and put it in the register tray. The register coughed out a receipt. He tore it off and dropped it in the bag. “There ya go. Ya’ll have a safe trip rest of the way home,” he rumbled.
“We will, thanks.”
“Peanuts are ready!” Agnes called from the back room, from which wafted a delicious curious salty smell. A second later she dashed out, with two Styrofoam cups in her hands. She turned her head to yell at someone still in the back room: “Ranger, you – hic – leave that pot alone! Those aren’t for you!” Not watching where she was going or how fast she was moving, she slammed into the stranger. Oof! Hot peanuts scattered everywhere. “Oh, oh, I’m so – hic– so sorry Mister!” She started crying again.
“No, no, it’s okay ma’am, no harm done.” He dropped to his knees and started picking peanuts up off the floor.
Agnes just stared down at the mess on the floor. “Pa – hic – Pa… look!”
Mr. Turner came around from behind the counter. “What’s the matter darlin’ – oh… Well, that’s really somethin’…”
The stranger paused and looked up curiously at them. “Huh?”
“Will?” Taita walked down the store’s aisles, twisting her hair into a knot behind her neck. “Did you “– She stopped when she saw the peanuts strewn all over the tiles. “Um…”
Agnes started gesticulating excitedly. “It’s a – hic – sign! The spirits – hic – made it for us!”
Will and Taita traded a nervous glance.
Mr. Turner squatted down next to his daughter and regarded the pattern of the peanuts on the floor. “Sure looks like it. Well, I’ll be darned�
��” he murmured, eyes sliding slowly over to Will.
Agnes threw her arms around Will, leaned into him, nearly knocked him over, and kissed him soundly on the lips. “Yes!” she squealed. “Yes! My answer is – hic – yes!”
“Uh…” Will scooted back and tried to untangle himself from Agnes’s clinging embrace. “Yes to what?” He snuck a panicked glance at Taita. What kind of trouble had he inadvertently stumbled into this time?
“What sign?” Taita snapped, shooting Agnes a venomous glance and then looking down again critically at the mess of peanuts on the floor. “What are you talking about?”
“To – hic – marrying you!” Agnes squealed. She snuggled closer to Will and gave him a doe-eyed look. “I’m Agnes Turner. What’s your name?”
Will laughed nervously and tried again to scoot away, but found himself back up against a shelf. “Ah – I’m Will Snipes, nice to meet you, but – ah – look, Miss Turner, I think we’re rushing things a bit – what is this sign you keep talking about?”
“The Sign of the Woman Who Spills Peanuts Before the Feet of Her True Love on the Eighth Day of the Eighth Month, and They Shall Form the Image of the Spirits Where They Lay,” Mr. Turner intoned.
Will stared at the mess of cold peanuts on the tile floor. “That doesn’t look like an image of the spirits.”
“You’re not looking at it the right way,” Agnes admonished. She tilted her head and squinted one eye. “There it is, I see it.”
“We’ll take your word for it,” Taita said coldly.
Agnes looked up adoringly at Will. “I was so mad when Earnest T. jilted me today, the day before my wedding, but now I see that he left me just in time. He wasn’t my true love, you are, and we can get married tomorrow. I can’t wait ‘till we’re married.”
“Ah – look, about that…”
“What a darling couple. I’m so happy for you, Agnes,” Mr. Turner beamed.
“Will’s not her true love. And he’s not marrying her!” Taita snapped. She grabbed Will’s arm and yanked him out of Agnes’s clutch. “Come on Will, let’s go, this is crazy.”
“It’s not crazy, it’s destiny!” Agnes cried, grabbing Will’s arm and trying to pull him back to her. “And we’re going to be married and have lots of children and be happy! Why shouldn’t we?!”
“Because,“ Taita yanked hard on Will’s arm. The women started a tug-o-war over Will, each one pulling on one of Will’s arms, threatening to tear him in two. “Because – because – he’s – I – you just can’t! He’s taken!”
“Well – he’s – mine now!” With a mighty yank, Agnes jerked Will out of Taita’s grasp. Will went flying into Agnes’s arms before he could do anything, and she held onto him and would not let go. She smiled sweetly at Taita. “But you can be my maid of honor at our wedding tomorrow if you want – can’t she, Will dearest?”
If looks could kill, the expression on Taita’s face would have keeled over a bull elephant.
“Ah – Miss Turner –“
“Call me Agnes,” she said, batting her eyelashes.
“Ah – Agnes, look, I’m sure you’re a nice person and – and – you’ll make some lucky guy very happy someday – but I don’t think that I’m the one to – I’m really not your type –“
“Of course you are, you’re my destiny, I’m yours.”
Taita snorted derisively.
“Mr. Turner, can you please talk to your daughter and convince her what a bad idea this is?” Will asked desperately.
“What’s there to talk about?” Mr. Turner reassembled his newly cleaned shotgun. “I’m sure you and Agnes’ll be very happy together. You’re much better for my daughter than Earnest T. would ever have been, that’s for sure. Congratulations sonny.”
Walker and Texas came inside and stood just inside the door, watching the strange goings-on.
“This has gone far enough. We’re leaving. Now.” Taita snatched Will out of Agnes’s embrace and dragged him to the door. “Good luck on the husband hunting Agnes,” Taita called over her shoulder, “But Will’s spoken for. Sorry.” She turned her head and nearly broke her nose on Walker’s chest. She scowled up at him. “Move. Now.”
“Hi,” Walker said, smiling shyly at her. “Fuel rods changed. Tires are okay. We cleaned the windows and mirrors too.”
“Great, wonderful, we’ll be on our merry way then!” Taita tried to shove past him.
“You can’t leave!” Agnes shrieked, rushing over to them. She grabbed Will’s arm again. “Walker, this is my new husband-to-be, Will. The spirits gave us a sign; we’re true loves and we’re going to be married tomorrow. And this is my bridesmaid – what did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t,” Taita growled.
“Hi,” Walker said, again. He spoke with perpetual unhurried slowness.
“We were just leaving,” Taita snapped at him.
Texas snickered. “I think she likes you,” he remarked to his older brother.
“Don’t be so sure,” Will advised the two Turner boys. To the Turner family, he said, “Nice meeting ya’ll. Good luck with the husband thing, Agnes.”
Will snatched his bag of purchases off the counter and he and Taita ducked out the door and dashed for the car.
He turned the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered. He tried again. The engine sputtered once more and then died.
“Uh, Will, did the engine just turn over and croak?” Taita asked nervously.
“Seems the devil was dancing on the car hood,” Will muttered. “Hold on, maybe it’s easily fixed.”
Murmuring a choice Alltradeuin curse he had learned from some Minus Tenu pilots, he jumped out of the car.
“You can’t leave!” Agnes cried, running to him.
Ignoring her, Will lifted the hood, stuck his hands down into the guts of the car and fiddled for a moment, and then grimly lowered the hood back down. “The eng-ignit matrix fried,” he announced. Shaking his head, he grumbled, “This doesn’t make any sense, I just replaced it last week…”
“Well can’t you fix it?” Taita asked, cracking open her door.
Will shook his head. “I could if it was just one connection, but the entire board’s fried.”
“It’s a sign!” Agnes cried. “The spirits want you to stay! We’re meant to be together, nothing can separate us but death!” She threw her arms around Will and kissed him soundly.
“Is that so…” Taita muttered darkly, rigid with barely contained fury. “Don’t tempt me…”
“Ah, Agnes – Agnes – this is a bit –“ Will managed to unlock his lips from hers and untangle himself from her arms. “— much.” He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Can we – ah – tone down the public displays of affection just a little?”
“Okay,” Agnes murmured, looking up alluringly through her thick lashes. “It’s just one more day until we’ll be married. Then I can kiss you anytime I want.”
The sight of Agnes’s lips on Will’s, the thought of Agnes married to Will and possessing him like that every day until the days ran out, sat like lumps of rotten meat in the pit of Taita’s stomach.
“Car trouble?” Mr. Turner asked, approaching with his three sons.
“Matrix is shot,” Will answered.
“Too bad. But of course ya’ll will stay with us tonight, this being the night before the wedding and all.”
“Yeah, about that…”
“Oh there’s nothing to say about it,” Mr. Turner said, cocking the shotgun in his hands. “This time tomorrow, we’ll be in-laws, sonny. ‘Twouldn’t be proper for you to sleep anywhere else tonight but under my roof. Agnes’d love to have ya, that’s for sure.”
Will and Taita exchanged nervous glances. At first, Taita shook her head in slight, sharp jerks. But Will’s eyes flicked to Mr. Turner and the Turner boys, who clearly were not about to let a man jilt Agnes Turner for a second time in less than twenty-four hours. Taita scowled, but she finally gave a small nod.
“We’d be honored to
accept your hospitality for the night,” Will finally said, smiling with his teeth but not with his eyes.
“I knew you’d see it my way, sonny!” Mr. Turner clapped Will on the back and pumped his arm in a vigorous handshake.
“You’ll like my cooking,” Agnes said, sidling up to Will and sliding her arm – and shoulder and hip and everything else – against his. “I cook the best ham in the valley.”
“That’s great, Agnes,” Will said morosely, looking not down at his bride-to-be but into Taita’s angry, wounded eyes, “That’s just wonderful.”
Interlude I: There Is a Time
Really awkward love triangles.
The Turner house was one-story and had only four rooms. Two were bedrooms, one for Pa and the boys and the other for Agnes. One was a kitchen and dining area. And the other was sitting room. The house was sparsely decorated with pieces of sturdy, functional furniture. All the floors were wooden. Although four men were constantly stomping through in dusty boots, Agnes somehow managed to keep the house spotless and neat. There were old framed photos everywhere, displayed in honor on the fireplace mantel and hanging in state on the walls: Aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, great grandparents, and great-greats. Generations and branches of the Turner family long dead; but somehow some of their spirit still remained in the house, keeping watch over the living, keeping watch against the darkness.
At dinner, Pa Turner, the proud father of the bride, sat at the head of the table. Will and Agnes sat on his right. Then the Turner boys and Taita filled out the rest of the table.
“We have a nice little cabin up in the mountains for you two,” Mr. Turner told Will, “Boys and I built it ourselves last month, and Agnes has been getting it already. You can have your honeymoon to break it in and move in next week.”
“You’ll like it,” Agnes promised, smiling prettily, “I’ve made it all nice and cozy and I’ve got Great Grandmother’s quilt up there too. It’s been in our family for a hundred years. She made it for her own wedding and she worked on it only in the light of the full moon, so it’s good luck – happiness and lots of children.” She knocked three times on the wooden table. “And we’ve taken every precaution against bad luck – salt across every threshold and horseshoes over every door.”
Will regarded her thoughtfully for a very long moment. His eyes flicked to the horseshoes nailed over the door to every room. The ends were turned up, to keep the good luck from spilling out. Good luck, bad luck, the spirits – it all seemed to be a kind of religion for the Turner’s. Maybe he could use that. “That’s great, Agnes,” he finally said. “What about your dress tomorrow? You know you’re supposed to wear something old, something new –“
“—something borrowed, and something blue,” Agnes finished for him, and she leaned against him and kissed his cheek. “For happiness, yes, I know. And a wedding veil to ward off the evil eye. I’ve thought of everything, dearest.”
“You really have,” he agreed, and for the first time that day, he smiled at her. “What about me? Don’t I need some kind of protection against the evil eye?”
“Boys’ve taken care of that,” Pa Turner assured him. “They’re your best men.”
“More potatoes?” Walker asked Taita, holding the dish for her.
“No, thank you,” Taita said, very softly. She had given up trying to talk to Will across the table and was now just picking unenthusiastically at her plate. Walker had served her generously at the start of the meal, but she had barely touched any of it.
“Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
“Okay.” He served himself a second helping of potatoes and then reached for the ham. “How about some more ham?”
“No.” She sat with her eyes downcast. Why waste the strength to lift her eyes when she wouldn’t like what she saw anyway?
“Don’t you like ham?”
“I do,” she said, forcing a smile, “I’m just full, that’s all.” Full of anger. Sick to her stomach with bitterness. Unless she and Will did something, Will was going to be married tomorrow – but not to her. And the worst of it was that Will had stopped protesting the arrangement hours ago, and now he was even talking like he was looking forward to it.
There was music and dancing after dinner. Pa Turner got out his empty ceramic jug (he comprised the entire woodwind section), the boys got out their banjos and guitars, and they struck up a song. Two of the men would play while the others danced, and then they would switch off every few songs. Pa Turner claimed the first dance with his daughter, Agnes, and then she and Will danced almost exclusively with each other after that. Ranger was too shy to do any more than one or two dances with his sister. Texas danced a few tunes with Taita and then only wanted to play his banjo. It was Walker who held Taita’s hand the most. The neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Tom and Betty Lewis, dropped by for an hour, and they mixed up the dance pairings. When they left, Agnes resumed her monopoly on Will and Walker took Taita’s hand for one last dance. It was a quieter song, old and sad as the mountains, and all of the Turner’s softly sang the words:
There is a time for love and laughter;
The days will pass like summer storms.
The winter wind will follow after,
But there is love and love is warm.
There is a time for us to wander
When time is young and so are we.
The woods are greener over yonder,
The path is new, the world is free. . .
At the end, everyone was very still and no one spoke for a moment. Taita peered over Walker’s shoulder and saw Will holding Agnes as if he had every intention of marrying her tomorrow.
“That was real pretty,” Agnes said softly at last.
The Turner men murmured their assent. Pa Turner dabbed his eyes with a white handkerchief.
“Very pretty,” Taita echoed, numbly.
Will didn’t say anything at all.
“Well, we should all turn in. We have a big day tomorrow!” Pa Turner grinned. “Will, sonny, you can sleep with me and the boys. Taita can share Agnes’s room, can’t she Agnes?”
“Of course!” Agnes beamed at Taita. “You’re my maid of honor, after all. You don’t mind do you?”
“No, not at all,” Taita forced herself to say. Steal the man she loved, make her watch, no she didn’t mind at all.
“I love you. I can’t wait ‘till we’re married,” Agnes whispered to Will. She twined her fingers into his, stood up on tip toe, and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Good night.”
“Good night,” he said. After a brief hesitation, he puckered his lips and kissed her cheek as well.
She smiled at him and then disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door.
“Wonderful couple,” Pa Turner rumbled happily.
“Very sweet,” Taita muttered. She followed Agnes and never looked once at Will. She was afraid if she looked him in the eyes she would lose what little composure she had left.
Within the hour, every light in the house went out. A few minutes later, the snoring started – loud and cacophonic, in four parts.
Interlude II: Sunny Days
True love for the win!
After a few hours of tossing and turning, Taita gave up trying to sleep. She snuck out of Agnes’s bedroom and stole through the house. She had to get out of this house, out of this motionless stifling air, so she could breathe and perhaps not be asphyxiated by her own emotions. She eased open the front door and slipped out onto the porch. There were four rocking chairs. She sat down in the one on the far end of the porch. The air was thinner at this high elevation, and the lens of the sky was perfectly clear, not fogged by clouds or dirtied by pollution. For a while, she watched the stars and rocked silently in the chair. The tears finally leaked from her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.
The front porch door creaked open. “Taita?”
The voice jerked her out of the pool of brooding thoughts in which she had submerged herself. When she broke the surface, she attacked the
hand pulling her out. “What do you want?” she hissed, turning to face the intruder.
It was Will. He stepped silently out of the house and carefully closed the door behind him. He stood there for a moment and searched her face for the source of her anger. His eyes traced the shining paths of her tears back to her eyes. “Are you crying?” he asked softly.
Whatever her answer was supposed to have been, it came out incomprehensible as a single strangled sob.
“Taita.” He knelt in front of her and gently touched her hand. “Taita, what’s wrong?”
“Just what are you trying to pull?” she hissed, jerking her hand away and cradling it against her chest like he had burned it. “The dancing, the kissing – it’s disgusting! You’re acting like you’d like nothing better than tie the knot with her tomorrow!”
“You’re really convinced of that?”
“How can you do this to me – after everything we’ve been through – you always said you loved me and now you go and do this and I –“ She lashed out at his face with the open palm of her hand.
He caught her wrist and stopped her cold. “Don’t tell me you fell for all that.”
“I hate you Will Sni – wait, what?”
He slowly lowered her arm and let her go. “You fell for it? Really? Well then… You know me best. So if I fooled you, hopefully I fooled everyone else too.” The corner of his mouth quirked.
She stared incredulously at him for a moment. Her eyes flicked wildly as she processed what he was saying. “You mean it was… an act… all along?” she said in a small voice.
“Yes. All along.”
“You’re a… good actor…”
“Why thank you.” He smirked. “I starred as a tree in my third grade play.”
A sound that was part laugh and part sob caught in her throat. More tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
“Hey, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay, don’t cry,” he murmured. He reached up and gently wiped the tears from her face. He grinned mischievously. “You and I have a big day tomorrow. You don’t want to go through it all with puffy red eyes, do you?”
“Why the act, Will? You’re not actually going marry that woman are you?”
“No. But I saw no reason to antagonize the Turners unnecessarily.”
“Then what are we going to –“
Will drew a small, worn volume out of his jacket.
“— what’s that?”
“Well, it occurred to me at dinner this evening that the Turner’s are very superstitious people. They’re pushing this marriage because they think it’s sanctioned and blessed by the good spirits.”
Taita nodded. “Right.”
“Well then, the solution is simple…” He held out the book to her. The corners were rounded with use and the pages were yellow with time. The hard cover was brown, and the title was embossed in gleaming silver: Ye Olde Booke o’ Blessyngs & Cursyngs. Grinning broadly, he asked, “If we curse this wedding, they’ll back off on their own. Heh, they won’t be able to hustle us out of town fast enough. Ever cursed a wedding before, Turtle?”
A slow smile spread across her face, and she laughed softly. “That’s brilliant!”
“I thought so too,” he said smugly. He sat down in the rocking chair next to her and took out a small pen light. “I swiped this off their bookshelf. Let’s see what we’ve got.”
They spent the next half hour paging through the small book.
“Here’s something: If a rider dressed in black, riding on a white horse, crosses the wedding party riding west to east, the marriage will be cursed with infertility, unhappiness, infidelity, and the early death of the wife.”
Taita shook her head vigorously. “No horses.”
“Okay, no horses.”
They shared a knowing smile. Taita was terrified of horses.
They kept paging through the book.
“Oh, here’s a good one,” Taita said, pointing to the middle of one page.
Will read it silently and then glanced sidelong at her. “That’s terrible.”
She grinned. “It’s a curse. It’s supposed to be terrible.”
“You’re right.”
“So can we do it?”
“I think we can pull it off.”
For the next half hour, they worked out the details in whispers and pantomime. At the end, confident in their plan, they stood.
Taita yawned, suddenly tired. “I think I’m going to bed,” she said softly, and walked past Will to get to the door.
He touched her shoulder. “Hey, wait, there’s one more thing.”
She stopped and turned to look at him expectantly. “What?”
“I know I was kind of tied up with Agnes tonight…”
Taita grimaced. “Kind of tied up? More like hopelessly tangled.”
“Especially after dinner. But…” He held out his hand to her. “I was hoping to dance at least once with you tonight.”
“Dance?” she whispered, astonished and deeply touched. “Really?”
He nodded.
“But – but – we don’t have any music…” But she placed her hand in his and drew near to him anyway.
“Ah, right…” he managed to say, slipping an arm around her waist and gently pulling her to him. “Well, ah… I’ll just… sing something… myself.” He coughed nervously.
She shook with silent laughter. “You dance better than you sing.”
Will laughed softly too. They stood in the interlocking circles of each other’s arms, shaking with shared laughter, and that shared vibration was a harmony too mysterious and too beautiful for any song to fully hold it. They both knew that Will couldn’t carry a tune, and he had two left feet. Although Will affectionately called her Turtle, she had the grace of a bird in flight and the voice of a bird in song.
Yet they danced; a slow shuffle and sway. Taita sang very quietly, and Will softly hummed along:
Sunny days, keeping the clouds away,
I think we’re coming to a clearing and a brighter day…
You can lose your mind; maybe then your heart you’ll find.
I hope you won’t give up what’s moving you inside.
So if you're waitin’ for love, well it's a promise I'll keep,
If you don't mind believing that it changes everything;
Time will never matter. . .
“I think you’re starting to rub off on me.”
“Maybe so,” Taita allowed.
“I only tripped once.”
Will lifted their clasped hands and Taita twirled gracefully under the arch of his arm.
“You’re right,” she said, coming back to him, “That’s a definite improvement.”
For a moment, they swayed in silence.
“One of these days we’re going to look back on this and laugh like lunatics over it,” Will said after a moment.
“If you say so,” Taita whispered.
They stood silent for a long moment.
“I love you, Will,” she told him softly.
“I love you too, Turtle.”
They pulled slowly away from each other and shared a small smile.
A Space Merchant's Tale & A Shotgun Wedding - Two Tales from The Keeper's Universe Page 5
