The Wedding Circle (10 page)

But Maura Beth was having none of it. “Nonsense! From the very beginning I've encouraged outside-the-box angles for our reviews. If that's where the discussion led us, then so be it. I just have to apologize to all of you for Mama's behavior. She's very upset with me because I won't see things her way about my wedding. I assure you, this has nothing to do with any of you. She was bound and determined to have her say, no matter what.”

“If I could, I wanted to say that—well, your mother feels very strongly about this,” Susan McShay offered with some reluctance. “I thought we were getting along so well, but she really got her back up with me last night. I was very surprised at how adamant she was about having a church wedding down in New Orleans. I won't go into some other things that were said.”

Maura Beth's little sigh of resignation summed it all up. “Appearances really can be deceiving, can't they? I wanted so much to believe that the two of you were getting along famously last night.”

Susan looked despondent, shifting her weight in her chair. “I wish that had been the case, sweetie. She didn't even want one of my jewelry catalogues when all was said and done. As a matter of fact, she barely spoke to me all day today. Just a quick nod at the breakfast table.”

“I don't want to sound so pessimistic here, but perhaps it's just not worth it,” Connie said. “I mean, having your wedding at our lodge out on the deck. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Douglas and I don't want to be the cause of this kind of friction between you and your parents. We don't want to have to live with that.”

“But it's mostly my mother who's the problem,” Maura Beth admitted. “She's tried to make me think that Daddy feels the same way she does, but I don't think that's true now. It's up to me to find a way to resolve all this with her—not you, Connie. You and Douglas are just innocent bystanders.”

Connie offered her most reassuring smile, reaching over to take Maura Beth's hand. “We just want you to enjoy your special day, whatever you decide to do.”

Mamie Crumpton suddenly started chuckling to herself, her generous bosom vibrating all the while. “I can't speak from experience since I've never been married, of course, but listening to all this controversy, it seems to me that the people who elope have the right idea. That way, you don't give people time to drive you crazy telling you how, when, and where you should get married.”

“You may have a point there,” Miss Voncille said. “I never thought I'd have to jump through so many hurdles.”

“As a practical matter, a justice of the peace is just as good as a minister, priest, or rabbi,” Mamie continued. “A little on the drab side, of course, but the ceremony will get the job done—just without the fuss and fanfare.”

Miss Voncille looked as if she might seriously be considering the suggestion and appeared ready to say something further, but apparently thought better of it and merely shrugged her shoulders at Locke.

From that point on, Maura Beth tried her best to get the focus back on
The Robber Bridegroom,
but her heart wasn't really in it. There was also a lack of enthusiasm among the others, as everyone sensed that the air had been let out of the proceedings. Only Jeremy was able to rise to the occasion with his insights, being the advocate of great literature that he was.

“I'm a big believer in archetypes,” he said. “And there are plenty of them in
The Robber Bridegroom.
” But it wasn't enough to keep interest from flagging even further, as yet another meeting of The Cherry Cola Book Club unexpectedly fell short of expectations.

Nonetheless, Maura Beth kept things together long enough to propose a couple of titles for their October read; and when the vote was taken,
The Member of the Wedding
by Carson McCullers won out. “It's a wonderfully poignant, coming-of-age story,” she told everyone. “Very Southern. Truly heartbreaking—especially for any woman who remembers the low points of her puberty.”

A bit later, Maura Beth felt both frustrated and guilty as she and Jeremy busied themselves switching off lights and locking up together. “The thing is, I don't think we adored Eudora in the first-class manner she really deserves. I let everything get out of control, and we practically forgot all about her. Oh, sure, we bandied about a few bits and pieces of the plot, and the food was delicious as usual; but this was definitely not our best Cherry Cola Book Club outing.”

“Oh, I don't know. I think Miss Welty would be gracious enough to understand and forgive us,” he pointed out. “How cool is it that people are still discussing her work long after she's been gone? I think writers have the best kind of immortality. Don't get me wrong now—I love my teaching. I wouldn't want to do anything else with my life. But what I wouldn't give for a little writing talent myself!”

Maura Beth turned and gave him an expectant glance. “Have you ever sat down and tried to write? The world is full of people who say they have a novel in them or something like that. But they're just a lot of talk. They never actually do anything about it.”

Jeremy suddenly looked a bit sheepish. “Actually, I have. I wrote a couple of short stories once, but I tore them up right after I'd finished. I just didn't think they were very good.”

“You didn't let anybody read them?”

“Nope.”

Maura Beth briefly pursed her lips. “Hmmm. Well, my opinion is you should write something else and let me read it this time. As a librarian, I have a very good eye. Maybe you're better than you think.”

He considered briefly and exhaled. “Okay, then. Maybe I will. I'll let you be my critic.”

“I'd be honored. Now, I've got to buckle down and solve my problem. I'm sure you realize I'm going to have to force a showdown with Mama. This tension between us has been building up for years. I've got to settle things once and for all. No more putting it off.”

Outside under the portico, Jeremy paused, and said, “You need me for backup, Maurie?”

Finally, after an incredibly stressful evening, Maura Beth was able to smile. “Thanks, sweetheart, but this is one of those mother-daughter things that will require lots and lots of space. When the two of us get together, there's no room for anybody else within a ten-mile radius.”

“Sometimes, Southern women get too close and go boom!” Jeremy exclaimed, making a playful, explosive gesture with his hands.

Maura Beth gave him an impulsive hug and then pulled away, looking wide-eyed and wary. “I know you were just trying to be funny, but I sincerely hope it doesn't come to that.”

9

The World's Oldest Teenagers

L
ocke couldn't imagine what had gotten into his Voncille. She had been giggling to herself off and on in the car all the way home to Perry Street from the library. When he'd asked her what was up several times over, she wouldn't tell him a thing. She just kept on giggling like a schoolgirl with a secret she was just itching to spill, but in her own good time. More than once, she even had to avert her gaze and cover her mouth, she was so full of herself.

Finally, he'd had enough, and after they had just entered the kitchen, he said, “Okay, Voncille, once and for all, what is so damned funny all of a sudden? What's this inside joke of yours?”

She headed straight to the counter to turn on the coffeemaker and heat up the carafe. “I guess I do need a nice black cup of something sobering like this.”

Locke managed to look amused in spite of himself. “That's one of the more ridiculous things I've ever heard. You can't possibly be drunk on that cherry cola punch.”

This time she laughed out loud. “No, but the way things went at our book club meeting tonight, I kept wishing that punch had been spiked. You have to admit, it got pretty rough at times. But at least one good thing came out of it all, and Mamie Crumpton, of all people, pointed the way.”

“Will you stop being so mysterious and tell me what in the world you're talking about?”

She gestured emphatically at the telephone. “I mean, we're going to call up Henry Marsden right now and get married as soon as he can work it into his schedule. A justice of the peace ceremony will do just fine, thank you. Then we're going to pick a spot on the map and run off for our official honeymoon. And we aren't going to tell a soul about it—not your children, not even Maura Beth and our book club friends. They can all think we've been captured by aliens, but we're going to get this out of the way. I say enough of this going back and forth with Carla and Locke, Jr. We had it right the first time. We don't need their blessing. We're going to elope, and that's all there is to it. And if you want my further opinion, I think Maura Beth should stop trying to please that overbearing mother of hers—she and Jeremy should just do the same thing and start living their own lives.”

“You intend to call her up and tell her that?”

“Well, no, I don't. But the way I see it, she ought to be able to figure it out for herself. Not that differences between parents and children are all that easy to handle. I've been in her position myself.”

Locke was stunned as he tried to take it all in. “So now you
do
want to get married again after that fiery speech you gave at the library? I'd like to think this will be your final decision. After all, you spent a lot of time getting me to see the light, and I finally did. Then for a while there, you just gave up the ghost and wanted the status quo. Are you telling me you'll have no regrets about that sweet little church wedding we were planning?”

“None whatsoever. As a practical matter, we hadn't even gotten to the invitations yet, so I promise you, this is it,” she told him, folding her arms for emphasis. “Getting married shouldn't be this difficult for anybody. We've had our license for a while now. We just need someone to perform the ceremony. Lord knows, there are enough youngsters full of hormones out there who don't give getting married a second thought and rush into it with mostly disastrous results. Or
have
to get married, which usually implies something even worse. That's what I was giggling about. I was thinking to myself, ‘Here we are, both of us pushing seventy, and we've gotten way too caught up in what your children think—' ”

He interrupted with a look of resignation, shaking his head. “They came at us pretty hard. Blindsided us, really.”

“That's an understatement. And I understand how hurt you are. Anyway, about my giggling. If we do something like run off and elope, we'd be acting like the world's oldest teenagers, and that particular image just makes me very happy at this stage of my life. I know my parents wouldn't have liked it at all, and that makes me even happier. After all these years, I think I'll finally be my own woman and free of their constant disapproval of me and the way I wanted to live my life.”

“And what a very special woman you are,” he told her. “You've been exactly what I've needed. In fact, I know we've both changed for the better since we've been together.”

His compliment found its mark, causing Miss Voncille to blow him a kiss. Then she glanced over at the warming carafe and decided it was time to pour herself some coffee. As she reached up into the nearby cupboard, she turned his way, and said, “Would you like some, too?”

“Yes, I believe I'll join you.”

They stood there for a while, slowly sipping and concentrating. “Well, here's something to consider. Can you put up with Henry Marsden's constant whistling?” Locke said, finally. “He's not the only justice of the peace in the world, you know. We could find someone else and drive over to Corinth or even up to Memphis—whatever you'd like.”

“Oh, there'll be just a few minutes of it at the most,” she answered, cracking a smile. “I suppose the poor man could solve his problem if he'd just get himself a new set of dentures, but judging from all the years I've known him, it doesn't look like he's going to do that anytime soon. He seems to like himself the way he is. Ssso I can ssstand it if you can.”

“Now that's very clever!”

“Oh, I suppose so, but I'd never make fun of him that way in public.” Then with a surge of energy, Miss Voncille clapped her hands twice, sounding like an excited schoolgirl. “Let's just go ahead and call Henry up right this minute and see how soon we can get this show on the road!”

Locke's expression was full of polite skepticism. “Speaking of the road, where is this wonderful little spot on the map we're going to spend our so-called honeymoon? Any suggestions?”

“Oh, I don't know. Let's be adventurous about it. We can just drive somewhere. None of this ‘booking in advance' nonsense. I loved that old
Route 66
TV series where they'd just get in their sports car and have a new adventure every week—acted like they didn't have a care in the world. We could do something like that. You could go get your atlas off the back seat, and we could thumb through it state by state. Or maybe I'll close my eyes and we'll go wherever my finger lands. Who knows?” Uncharacteristically, she started waltzing in place with arms outstretched, her salt-and-pepper head tilted back and her eyes affixed to an imaginary partner. “I want you to look and see if I'm first on your dance card, Locke. I'd better be!”

Her spontaneity was contagious, and he looked very much in love as took her in his arms and began leading her around the kitchen. “Why, I do believe you're my very first, and I think you and I make absolutely wonderful, seventy-year-old teenagers.” Then he looked suddenly inspired, glancing briefly at the ceiling. “By the way, what are we dancing to tonight?”

She drew back for a moment and gave him a wry smile. “ ‘The Blue Danube'? ‘The Merry Widow Waltz'? ‘Tennessee Waltz'? I loved Patti Page's version back in the day. I don't know. You pick one. You can even hum it for us. I don't care as long as we keep on dancing.”

 

Miss Voncille was not about to be bothered by Henry Marsden and his sibilance on this, her wedding day that had been so long in coming. The pleasant buzz she had created for herself by ten o'clock the next morning in his institutional-looking office was a potent mixture of expectation and the sort of fantasy she herself had decried during
The Robber Bridegroom
review at the library the evening before; in spite of the peeling green paint, a framed American flag whose colors were badly faded, and any number of illegible metal plaques and citations tacked to the walls. There was also one feeble attempt to add a ceremonial aura to the surroundings in the form of two white votive candles offering up their cloying, flowery scents at opposite ends of Henry Marsden's desk.

But it was as if none of those pedestrian things existed. For across from Miss Voncille stood her gentlemanly Locke, the epitome of distinguished and dashing in his three-piece gray suit and silver tie; while she felt like the queen of the ball wearing her champagne-colored cocktail dress and holding her makeshift bouquet of white crepe myrtle cuttings from Locke's front yard. What a last-minute inspiration that had been as she had rushed into the garage to retrieve his garden shears! After all, he had been tending to his trees for many years now. They were quite mature—their trunks having grown very gnarled and muscular as crepe myrtles will do—and snatching a small part of them to take with her as she became his wife was something she thought would be quite original for the ceremony.

Everything else continued to fade into the background, including Henry Marsden's impediment, the almost comical, big ears that protruded from the sides of his bald head and the cramped little room that would bear witness to their exchange of vows. Even his thin, mousy wife, Oralee, wearing a sack of a dress that hung on her bones while she played the role of witness on this steamy morning, seemed like little more than a theater prop.

And then Miss Voncille began reciting her own original words that would finally turn her into a married woman: “Locke Linwood, I come to you today of my own free will with joy in my heart so that the two of us can become one. When I least expected it, you appeared in my life, and I was wise enough to open my arms and let you in.” The emotion in her voice was very evident, and she paused briefly to steady herself as she continued. “My long wait is over now. You've quietly touched my soul, and I look forward to the rest of my life with you.”

Then it was Locke's turn to take the stage, and he did not miss a beat. Not even once did he look down at the small square of paper with scribbles tucked away in the palm of his hand—just in case his memory failed him. “Voncille Nettles, you will never know how much you've changed my life. I've always been a man of few words, but you make me want to tell the whole world how I feel about you. But I know the best way to do that is to take you as my wife and travel together from there. I can't wait for the journey to begin. Our sunrise is at hand.”

Miss Voncille noticed that Oralee Marsden's jaw dropped as Locke finished up. Without the woman saying a word, that had to be high praised indeed. There was no question about it. These vows of theirs were verbal jewels, even if she and Locke had pulled them out of their heads over coffee, biscuits, and green pepper jelly at the breakfast table only an hour before. The spontaneity of it all was taking Miss Voncille's breath away, but she was having no trouble handling it.

“The ringsss pleassse,” Henry Marsden said next.

At that point absolutely nothing could stop Miss Voncille from smiling, although she noticed her Locke was wincing slightly. The sibilance of the last phrase had been particularly sharp and penetrating. Had there been a dog of any kind in the room, it was easy to picture its ears perking up, along with a pitiful whimper or two. But soon enough, the rings were exchanged, and the rote part of the ceremony with the “I do's” was over and done with.

Then came the final sibilance. “By the power vesssted in me by the Ssstate of Misssisssippi, I now pronounssse you husssband and wife. You may now kisss your bride.”

Indeed, Locke's kiss was one for the ages. It was soft and gentle, lingering just long enough to convey genuine passion, yet stopping short of becoming a side show. As Miss Voncille pulled back staring affectionately into his eyes, the reality of it hit her. After decades of going it alone the best way she knew how, she was finally married. With the distant tragedy of Frank Gibbons and his MIA status still an immutable part of her, she was truly moving on at last. She was now Mrs. Locke Linwood, and it would no longer matter what his children said or did. If they came around as decent, loving people ought to, then fine. If not, at least she and Locke had stopped all the second-guessing and agonizing and done the deed.

“Well, off we go on our honeymoon,” Miss Voncille told Oralee as everyone was shaking hands after all the paperwork had been signed at Henry's desk.

“If you don't mind my askin,' where y'all goin'?” Oralee wanted to know. “Henry and I went to Six Flags Over Texas. A' course, that was way back when it was a real big deal. It sounded like it'd be lots a' fun, but I threw up on the roller coaster.”

Miss Voncille winced at first, but then drew herself up proudly. “We don't even know where we're going. All I can tell you is, we're heading west from here. We'll just see where the road leads us.”

Oralee looked flabbergasted, bringing her hands together. “Why, I never heard of such a thing. But I kinda like it. Y'all are so impulsive.”

“Aren't we, though?” Miss Voncille leaned in and whispered playfully. “But please don't tell anyone we've done this. We're going to keep it under our hats for a while and let everyone know about it in our own good time.”

“My goodness! Y'all make me wanna get married all over again,” Oralee added. “Why don't we take our vows again, Henry?”

“Well now, Oralee,” he told her, looking at her like she was out of her mind, “that'sss the lassst thing I want to do right now. You and I, we're jussst fine the way we are. We're too old for that kinda foolissshness. Not only that, but don't you get enough of all thisss? I mean, I'd think you'd want a break sssince you're ssstanding up for ssso many couplesss all the time?”

“You'd think, wudd'n you?” Then she turned to Miss Voncille once again, talking out of the side of her mouth. “But I've gotten pretty good at tellin' what's what. When some a' these people walk outta here, I know without a doubt they're not gonna make it. Don't ask me how I know it. After thousands a' ceremonies, I just do. Why, I wouldn't issue a fishin' license to some of these crazies!” She paused to enjoy a good laugh, wiping the corner of her eye with her finger.