Show, The (14 page)

"Close the deal, Joel."

Joel nodded. He grinned at the pastor and then at his wife. For the first time in twenty-two years, he did as instructed.

CHAPTER 26: JOEL

Joel settled into a chair as he watched a photographer train a lens on his table in the open-air pavilion. Keoki of Keoki's Perfect Pictures focused first on the blushing bride, then on the maid of honor, and finally the best man as he rose from his seat and approached a microphone.

"I have to tell you, folks," Adam Levy said. "I didn't see this coming. Five months ago, I had a best friend I could read like a book. He went through the same motions every day and had very familiar habits. Put differently, he was predictable."

Joel eyed Adam nervously. He wondered where this was going.

"How predictable, you ask? Well, let me tell you. Take Saturday mornings. Joel had a ritual that never changed when we roomed together. He would roll out of bed at eight, turn the TV on to
SpongeBob SquarePants
, and head straight to the kitchen – not for cereal, not for coffee, not even for cold pizza. Oh, no. Not Joel. He opened the fridge and went to work on a big jar of dill pickles. He finished at least a jar a week."

Joel sighed and then smiled at his laughing guests.

Adam Levy had more dirt on the groom than the FBI, but he appeared determined to take the high road. If he wanted to talk about Saturday mornings with sponges and pickles instead of Saturday nights with Maria in Mazatlán, then Joel Smith was OK with that.

Joel settled into his chair as Adam continued.

"He was also predictable at restaurants. If a waitress wanted to know if he had questions about any menu items, Joel wouldn't ask 'Does it come with fries?' or 'Can I have the dressing on the side?' Nope. Not our Joel. He'd ask instead whether the chickens had been humanely plucked or whether Juan Valdez had ensured the quality of the coffee."

Joel looked at Grace and saw her try to stifle a laugh. He could see that she was enjoying the show and learning new things about her husband of two hours. He grabbed her hand, kissed her lightly on the lips, and returned his attention to the speaker.

"My buddy was predictable even when he went out of town. He had a big-time weakness for tourist traps. When we went to Yellowstone in May he bought a keychain he has never used and a cowboy hat he has worn maybe twice. Whenever he went on a distant trip I could count on him bringing back three things: a postcard, a T-shirt, and a bumper sticker. I have an entire drawer full of postcards from Pasadena, T-shirts from Texas, and bumper stickers from Boston."

Joel scanned more than thirty faces and saw smiles and nods.

"My point here, folks, is that the Joel Smith of last spring made sense to me. He acted as he had always acted. So when he went to Oregon in June, I expected that he would bring back what he had always brought back from a trip: a postcard, a T-shirt, and a bumper sticker. I
didn't
expect that he'd bring back a postcard, a T-shirt, a bumper sticker, and a Victoria's Secret model."

Laughter filled the room.

"I also didn't expect this newly eligible bachelor to throw himself on the spikes before the Seahawks opened the regular season. That was very un-Joel-like, by the way," Adam said as he shook a finger at the groom. "It was the last thing I would have expected from the guy I had known for ten years."

Adam paused and lowered his voice.

"But it's the first thing I would have expected from a man in love."

Joel smiled.

"Joel is not the same guy I used to know. He no longer badgers waitresses or drives on freeway medians or enters abandoned mines with KEEP OUT signs. To my knowledge, he no longer counts cards in poker or scratches himself in public. He is instead someone who surprises and inspires me every day – a caring, sensitive man I'm proud to call my best friend."

Adam turned toward the groom and raised a glass.

"I wish you and Grace all the love and happiness you can find. Cheers!"

CHAPTER 27: JOEL

Joel and Grace walked west along the longest beach in Hawaii in pursuit of the setting sun. He had told her that if they caught Old Sol before it slipped below the horizon, the world would always be hers. They didn't quite make it. The sun disappeared just as they reached the water's edge, but Joel didn't mind. He literally had Paradise in the palm of his hand.

They stared at the waves for a moment and began the half-mile trek back to the resort and a bungalow that had scarcely been used. Only a handful of others occupied their beach, or at least others they could see in the darkening sky.

"Do you know what day this is?"

"Tuesday, I think," Joel said. "I've lost track of time here."

"We're maintaining our proud tradition."

Joel smiled. She remembered. Tuesday had been more than just another day in the summer of 1941. It had been his day off, the day he had been able to escape the retail jungle of Carter's Furniture and Appliance, visit Grace at the university library, and walk her home. They had used the precious time together to become better acquainted, fall in love, and build a relationship that had stood the test of time.

"You have to admit that it beats a stroll through the campus," he said.

"This beats a stroll through
anywhere
. I know now why you always spoke glowingly of Hawaii. I cannot imagine a more beautiful place to be married and start a new life."

Joel brushed some sand from the front of his swim trunks and reclaimed Grace's hand.

"Have you given any more thought to a job or a career?"

"I have, but . . ."

"You have, but . . . what?"

"Isn't that your sister?"

Joel threw a hand to his forehead, squinted, and made a mental note to visit an ophthalmologist in November. He conceded that failing to recognize your oldest sibling at forty yards, even in dwindling light, was probably not a good thing.

"Hi, Abby," Joel said.

Abigail Smith Merriman, 26, stepped forward with her husband, Steve, in tow. She laughed when the four came within speaking distance.

"You
wore
it," she said, referring to an orange string bikini she had given Grace at a wedding shower in September. "I didn't think you would."

"I must admit I feel a bit naked," Grace said.

"You're supposed to be naked, dear. It's your wedding night."

Grace gave Joel an elbow in the side.

"You look good in it," Abby said. "Doesn't she look good, Steve?"

Steve smiled.

"You look good."

"I don't know," Grace said. "People were staring at me when we left the bungalow."

Abby laughed.

"That's because they were admiring you," she said. "You had better get used to it."

"I'm not sure I want to."

"Of course you do," Abby said. "You know the old saying, 'If you've got it, flaunt it.' Well, sweetie, you've got it, so you might as well flaunt it. Once you have a baby, you'll yearn for the day you could wear something like that."

"Well, that will be a while," Joel said. "So in the meantime, I'll just have to put up with a wife who wears string bikinis. It's so unfair."

Abby chuckled.

"Are you two headed back to the resort?"

"We're taking the slow road."

"You should. It's your wedding night."

"What about you?" Joel asked.

"We'll probably go a little further down the beach before heading back."

Joel put his arm around Grace.

"Enjoy. We'll see you at breakfast."

"Be good," Abby said with a twinkle in her eye.

Ten minutes later Joel and Grace approached a bungalow on the perimeter of a resort that specialized in weddings and family gatherings. Joel had picked the resort because of the privacy it offered and its access to the beach. Frank Smith had agreed to the choice because he had been able to rent the facilities at a substantial discount.

Joel grinned at his bride as they walked up the path to the rental.

"I'm going to give you a choice, Mrs. Smith. I can carry you through the door or chase you through. Which will it be?"

"Chase!"

Grace dropped his hand and raced toward the door. She followed the path, which wound around a palm tree and two Adirondack chairs, to the steps.

Joel admired her speed and agility. She had not lost a step since he had paid an unexpected visit to the university library in October 1941 and had chased her around The Crypt, a dark, musty archive in the rare books section. How long ago that time seemed.

Joel didn't follow Grace up the path. He instead took a shortcut to the left, leaped onto the front porch, and assumed a position in front of the door. He grinned and held his arms open as she approached the steps.

"Come to papa," he said.

"I don't like you," Grace said with a scowl.

She stepped away from the porch, moved her head back and forth, as if looking for options, and walked briskly around the corner of the rental. Within seconds she dropped out of sight.

Joel laughed at the thought of chasing his wife on their wedding night. He was getting too old for this but he relished it just the same. He looked forward to life with this woman.

"There's no escape, Grace. This is an island."

Joel walked slowly to the back of the bungalow and closely examined the smaller, unlit porch in back. He could find neither hide nor hair of the blonde who had apparently escaped his grasp. He continued his inspection of the perimeter until he returned to the front of the structure. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he heard a door slam.

"Grace?"

"You stay right there," she said from behind the door. "You can't come in."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because. OK. That's a start. Because why?"

Grace lowered her voice.

"Because you haven't done what you're supposed to do."

"We're getting closer, Grace, but I may still have to phone a friend on this one."

"You do that."

"What haven't I done?"

"You haven't serenaded me."

Joel laughed.

"OK. What do you want me to sing?"

"'The Macarena.'"

"'The Macarena'? That could damage my vocal chords. How about 'Edelweiss'?"

"No. I want 'The Macarena.'"

Joel began to consider the very real possibility he would spend his wedding night in one of the Adirondack chairs when he saw Grace open a small window in front. She folded her arms and stared at him through a screen.

"I'm waiting," she said.

Joel didn't wait to be prompted further. He began humming the popular tune, mumbling in Spanish, and moving his arms like a cheerleader on five cups of espresso.

He glanced over his shoulders, to make sure no one else was watching, and continued swaying and mumbling for a couple of minutes until he looked again at the window and saw a slight smile form on Grace's face. A few seconds later, he heard a door lock click.

He nervously ascended the steps, hoping that he wouldn't hear the lock click again. When he opened the door and walked inside, he found chairs, tables, and cabinets made of rattan, wicker, and bamboo, and a bride made of something better.

"You didn't really sing to me."

"Trust me, Grace. You don't want me to sing. I wouldn't do that to Adam."

Grace pouted.

She stood by the edge of a queen bed that had barely been touched when they had changed out of their wedding clothes a few hours earlier. A bottle of expensive champagne, also untouched, protruded from a crystal cooler nearby.

Joel locked the door and then walked toward the bed. When he reached the modest girl in the not-so-modest string bikini, he put his arms around her waist and kissed her softly.

"What did I ever do to deserve you?"

Grace smiled.

"You dropped to a knee in public and professed your love."

She tilted her head and looked at him more thoughtfully.

"Are you ever going to sing to me, Mr. Smith?"

"I may, someday – but not tonight. Tonight I'm going to tell you how much I love you and tell you how lucky I feel just to be standing in this room."

Grace sighed and looked at her husband with wistful eyes.

"I'm so happy, Joel."

"I am too. We're going to have a great life, Grace. I know it," Joel said. "As soon as we get back, we'll find a house. I know of at least one in Madison Park I think you'd like. It's not big, but it's big enough. Then we'll get you a job or get you in school – whatever you want."

Grace smiled sadly as moisture formed in her eyes.

"What's the matter?" Joel asked. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. I like the idea of a house. I like the idea of making you happy."

"But?"

"But I'm not sure I want to get a job or go to school. Not now."

"That's OK, Grace. There's no pressure. You can do what you want."

Joel put his hands on Grace's face and looked at her with newfound concern.

"What
do
you want?"

Grace slowly lifted her eyes to his.

"I want to be a mother, Joel, and sooner rather than later."

Joel smiled. He wanted her to be a mother too. He wanted to help her
become
a mother. But he saw no reason to rush the matter.

"We'll work on that. As soon as I get a little more settled in my job, we'll do the family thing. I want children, too, Grace. I want as many as you want."

Grace touched his lips with a finger.

"Thank you," she said. "We haven't really talked about children. It's very important to me."

Joel turned away for a moment. Of course it was important to her. She was an orphan, an orphan without siblings. She did not have the very things he had taken for granted his whole life. He returned to his bride and kissed her again, this time more forcefully.

"We'll do it, Grace. We'll have a family, a big family."

"I needed to hear you say that, and I'm glad you said it now."

Joel smiled and looked at her curiously.

"Why now?"

Grace stepped back and untied the top of her bikini.