Trying the Knot (44 page)

Chelsea headed for the steps, and Thad called
her name. He removed his necklace and tossed it to her. She studied
the silvery blue rhinoceros at the end of the chain, and she
remarked, “How odd, but thanks.”

“It’s always brought me luck,” he
explained.

“Think you have any to spare?” she asked
pointedly, and she descended the staircase to find her mother
waiting below.

Ginny Norris looked stunning as usual. She
wore a vaguely oriental-looking tunic dress to accentuate her
curves. The blue-green dress made her hair look even more golden
blond than usual. She was fond of the bright colors most women
eschewed in terror if ever confronted with the option at the dark
end of their closet. Ginny flashed her daughter a warm smile, and
suddenly it no longer mattered to Chelsea her mother was having an
affair with an employee less than half her age. It was not as if
Ginny was trying to recapture a misspent youth, for she had lived
each and every day of her life to the fullest. She reveled in all
her fifty-plus years, and she remained as tastefully attractive as
she had always been.

Chelsea spontaneously hugged her mother and
held onto her closely, as if she were trying to usurp Ginny of her
languid carefree attitude.

“Oh, sweetie, what a nice surprise.”

“I just needed a hug.”

“You’re not thinking of backing out of your
California plan, or are you?” Ginny asked hopefully.

“No, mother,” she replied exasperated. “I
thought we discussed everything last night. Remember, we both
agreed?”

“You’ll only ever be satisfied pursuing what
makes you truly happy, and I agreed to explain everything to your
father,” Ginny finished, and she smiled approvingly. She knew it
was no use reprimanding her only child about her life choices
because Chelsea had always been her own most unforgiving critic.
“Whatever you choose to do in life, you have my blessings.”

“Even if I become a Go-Go dancer in
Hollywood?” she asked jokingly, but Ginny only nodded, as if to
say, ‘Why not?’ Chelsea did not doubt her mother’s sincere
unconditional acceptance, and they embraced once more.

“All I ask,” Ginny began, “is the next time
you spend the night with some young man, you at least have the
decency to invite him to stay for breakfast.”

Speechless, Chelsea flushed mortified.

“After you leave, I’ll see what I can do to
encourage that boy to visit you in California,” Ginny offered. With
a wink, she nodded in the direction of Ben who stood
uncharacteristically calm awaiting the arrival of more guests to
seat. “Why don’t you give him your aunt’s address, and drop him a
line once in a blue moon.”

“Don’t worry, those were my exact
intentions,” Chelsea said as she squeezed her mother’s hand. “Now,
if you’ll excuse me.”

Chelsea made her way to Ben, whose face lit
up with a mix of joyous apprehension. He casually acknowledged
Ginny with a friendly wave, and then he focused all his sole
attention on her daughter.

“I have something for you,” Chelsea said.

“What, another punch in the nose?”

“It can be arranged,” she said, slightly
startled when he grazed her cheek with a small peck. In return, she
indiscreetly kissed him flush on the mouth, but was careful to
avoid his sore nose. Ben laughed awkwardly and backed safely away.
“You look like an Asian mobster,” she said, and he posed toughly in
his tuxedo with his hair greased back.

“Chinatown here I come.”

“Your nose definitely looks broken.”

“It doesn’t hurt too bad.”

“Nick really pasted you hard,” Chelsea said,
and she pulled a small slip of paper from the front of her fuchsia
gown. “This is my aunt’s address, where I’ll be staying near San
Francisco. I want you to pay me a visit this winter after you
finish all the houses you’re contracted to paint.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Seriously, Benjamin, it’d be good for you to
take a vacation,” she said, feeling his attention waning. “Expand
your horizons.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said, not disliking
the idea.

She raised her thumb upwards toward the
balcony. “Maybe you can even see what you can do about kidnapping
our alcoholic friend upstairs.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“It’d be awesome,” she said excitedly. “You,
Thad, and I could have a lot of fun.”

“Maybe, you never know,” he said, with a hint
of distracted sadness. She slipped the address safely between the
folds of his cummerbund, and two more guests materialized at the
church threshold. In need of an usher to lead them down the aisle,
they waited patiently for him to finish his conversation.

Forced to abandon her side, Ben smiled
apologetically at Chelsea, and he tended to the latecomers. She
watched him and felt something was amiss. In the course of their
casual small talk, it was obvious whatever tension between them had
dissipated. She wondered why he was being so polite. It was as if
the intimacy they shared last night had dispersed with the dawn,
and the light of the day had bleached out his feelings for her.
Growing uncomfortable, she did not want to consider what might have
transpired in the middle of the night after they said their
goodbyes. She questioned whether she ever really held his full
attention at all. Maybe last night’s stirring of mutual feelings
for one another were a product of her overactive imagination.

“Bride’s side or groom’s?” Ben automatically
asked the latecomers.

Both Deputy Czerwinski and Nyda looked tired
and corpse-like. It took Nyda a few uncomfortable seconds to issue
the words, “Groom’s side, please.”

Chelsea felt hopeful as she watched Ben
escort the guests down the aisle, but Nick interrupted her all too
brief circumspect moment of optimism as he charged at her while
rutting in distress. Close to despair, Nick was distraught. “I
couldn’t find Kate anywhere. A nurse from the hospital said Kate
and Jack stuck around until around seven o’clock this morning, and
no one has seen them since.”

Struck by the direness of the situation,
Chelsea searched the sea of guests as if Kate was lurking unnoticed
between the church pews.

Not far from the entrance, Ed Hesse
verbalized what horrible fate might have resulted in his daughter’s
delay. In ten more minutes, he vowed to load up his pickup with a
posse of volunteers and start a search and rescue party for his
missing daughter. Shayla was linked to his arm, and a tortured
smile was etched across her bruised, swollen face. She wore a
spaghetti strap purple dress with nude nylons and shiny red
stilettos. Her tarnished hair was piled beehive high, and frosty
eye shadow encircled her baby blues like a space-aged raccoon.

Mumbling under her breath she had bigger
concerns than her stepdaughter’s whereabouts, Shayla left her
husband’s side and gave up any pretense of caring about the fate of
the doomed wedding. She tenderly wrapped a bare, saggy arm around
Ben and informed him she was as ready as she ever to be accompanied
one more time down the aisle.

Obligingly, he guided Shayla to her rightful
position in the wedding-seat hierarchy. Having heard he preferred
older women, Shayla shamelessly flirted as they made their way to
the front of the church. She held her head high and assumed an air
of dignity; after all, she was the wife of Edward G. Hesse, who was
the father of the bride and chief engineer of a freighter.

“You know, Benji,” Shayla whispered in his
year. “It’s a shame Vangie isn’t well enough to be here – she
always loved a good party.”

He nodded sadly and thought it strange she
should pick this inopportune time to bring up her daughter. Shayla
reeked not only of stale cigarette smoke but also a hardened boozy
complacency. Before she entered her designated pew, she turned to
him tearfully.

“You’re her best friend, Benny. Maybe her
only friend.” Then she added fiercely, “As little as my daughter
talks to me, I know at least that damn much. I think she may even
love you a little bit. Does it surprise you?”

Ben shook his head and uncomfortably turned
away, but Shayla grabbed hold of his arm and steadied herself as
she genuflected. Looking ahead at the hanging crucifix, she made
the sign of the cross and said, “You’re a good guy, Benji. My
Vangie is real lucky to have a friend like you. And maybe one day,
we’ll be celebrating your wedding to her.”

Ben did not have the heart to inform Shayla
her daughter was dead. It was Dr. Paull’s idea to keep the details
confined to the few people who were actually in the room when
Evangelica passed away as the news would ruin the wedding. As
illogical as it sounded Kate readily agreed to it, and she made Ben
and Jack promise not to say a word to anyone because she did not
want to appear tasteless and tacky, getting married the same day
her stepsister died.

Once the music stopped the crowd breathed a
sigh of relief because no one felt especially joyous, despite Ode
to Joy was the only song the organist seemed to know. As Ben shot a
look upwards toward the balcony, Mrs. Paull caught his attention,
and he gladly abandoned Shayla for Nick’s mother. As usual, Anne
Paull was a picture of pragmatism, and she was surreptitiously put
together in her mother of the groom formalwear. She resembled a
hearty New Englander too caught up with the rigors of everyday
existence to indulge in the wasteful pastime of artfully dolling
oneself up.

Ben leaned close, and Nick’s mother asked,
“Has she arrived yet?”

Ben shook his head no.

“I don’t understand, this isn’t at all like
her,” Anne Paull said concerned. “Doesn’t Jack know where she
is?”

“He’s not here either.”

“Perhaps we should intervene,” suggested Anne
to Dr. Paull, “before Kate’s father makes an ass of himself?”

But her secret ex-husband gripped her wrist
and in his take-charge fashion he reassured, “There’s no cause for
alarm. I spoke with her early this morning before she left the
hospital.” He looked exhausted and assumed a tone of voice that
implied he knew what they did not. “She’ll be here, there’s no
doubt about it. Just give her a few more minutes.”

The doctor followed Ben to the side, and he
whispered, “If she’s not here in 5 minutes, I’ll go find her.
Where’s she keeping the wedding dress?”

“Chelsea’s mother’s house, I believe.” Ben
said, and he nodded in agreement. He thought it should be written
down somewhere in an instruction manual that a silent nod was the
universal usher response. Walking back to the vestibule, Ben
observed Ed Hesse with his hands outstretched.

Ed bellowed, “Two more minutes we’ll give
her, and then I’ll unleash the hounds.”

Chief Engineer Hesse wore his wrinkled tuxedo
well, and he even looked dignified, which was a far cry from the
cartoon he resembled in his everyday cowboy boots, ten-gallon hat,
and silver belt buckle the size of Texas. Shayla was fond of young
pop country music, southwestern decor, line dancing, and cowboy
living. She dressed her husband to fit the part because it made her
feel closer of realizing her dream of living on a Ponderosa of
goats and chickens.

Hiding behind Jackie O-sized sunglasses and
wearing a trench coat, Tristana stumbled through the front entrance
of the church. Weary but undaunted, she sighed with relief after
realizing the ceremony had not yet started. Her long blown out,
Eighties hair was cut to mere inches from her scalp. She had taken
the shears to her gothic curls before going to bed.

Tristana gave her brother a mechanical
squeeze and said casually, “Hey, baby bro.”

“Your hair?!”

“Like it?” Tristana asked, messing it up with
her blood red fingernails. “I did it myself.”

Nick shook his head annoyed, but he was
largely unfazed. The short hair actually looked good, and with the
exception of her augmented breasts, she looked pixie-ish.

“Surely, I can’t be the sole reason for the
delay,” said Tristana presumptuously. “You’re too kind.”

“No, it’s Kate.”

“Kate?”

“She hasn’t arrived yet,” Chelsea explained,
who wondered if she should try lopping off her own hair for
dramatic effect.

“Hasn’t arrived yet?” Tristana repeated.
“Well, shouldn’t we call her?”

“We don’t know where she is,” Ben piped
in.

“Don’t know where she is?”

“Oh, for chrissakes,” Nick spewed. Anger
unbridled, he demanded, “Ben, escort the echo to her rightful pew.”
Then Nick turned to his sister and commanded, “Take off those
glasses and that coat. You look like a ridiculous 1940s gumshoe
detective.”

“Anything for you, baby brother,” Tristana
said. She returned her DynaTAC cellular phone to her handbag, and
slung her jacket over his shoulder as if he were her own personal
coat rack. “You do what you must, but if I were you, I’d spend
these last few stolen moments thinking about whether or not I was
really up for making the biggest mistake of my entire life,” she
said severely and flashed him a smile. “But thankfully, I’m not
you.”

“I-I never knew you felt that way,” Nick
stammered.

“Well, you never asked,” she answered, from
behind her sunglasses. Without unveiling her bloodshot eyes, she
made her way through the vestibule and loitered idly smoking
outside the church. Tristana was pleasantly surprised when Alexa
crashed into her. The younger girl backed nervously away due to her
drastic new hairstyle, and Tristana shot Alexa a look of lingering
longing as she trailed after her back into the church.

Alexa loudly announced Kate’s arrival to
everyone who had gathered in the church foyer, “They’re parking the
Jeep right now!”

Rather than join her parents, Tristana
curiously waited for the bride alongside Ben, Chelsea, Nick, and
the rest of the bridal party. After a few tense moments, Jack
finally burst inside. Resembling a battered footman in his tuxedo,
he held open the heavy church door.