Cancel the Wedding (29 page)

I was straining my eyes at the picture trying to see if I could find Janie and George in the crowd. Buddy picked up another picture and turned it over showing me that there were names written on the back. Most of the pictures had names and dates written on them, which would make it so much easier to figure out who all of these people were.

Buddy pulled another picture from the box and handed it to me. It was a faded color shot of my mom's house. “That was your mom's house before it fell. I have a few more shots of it in here; I pulled out the ones I could find of it.”

It showed a crowd of people in the yard sitting on lawn chairs, and smoke from a grill was wafting off into the horizon. I suddenly realized that I recognized this picture. I glanced at the Wall of Discovery and found almost the same picture tacked up there. It was the image we had found that first day in the library when we were searching for pictures of the lake.

“Do you know what this party was for?”

“That was the welcome home barbeque for Oliver when he got back from Vietnam.” He glanced at the nearly identical picture I had under the TVA research on the wall. He nodded. “Yep, that was the same day it hit full pool. I'd forgotten that.” I assumed that “full pool” meant that was the day the lake had finished being filled. That would explain why there had been a photographer there from the TVA to capture the occasion on film.

Buddy pulled out a few more images from that day and handed them to me. One was another shot of the crowd. I recognized a few faces, but I didn't see Janie or George. I found Nate and Margaret sitting under a tree. Margaret was very pregnant and toasting the camera with a bottle of Coke. Nate had happy written all over his face.

The next picture was a shot of the throng attacking Oliver as he climbed out of a blue sedan. A lot of the people in the picture were out of focus as they rushed to welcome Oliver back home. His face was completely vacant. He looked strange, shocked or surprised maybe. George was climbing out of the open door on the drivers' side of the car. Janie was walking toward him and their eyes were locked. Frozen on their faces was a shared look that spoke of worry and concern.

The last picture of the welcome home barbeque was taken at twilight. The group of partygoers who remained was sitting on the deep back porch of the house overlooking the lake. The automatic flash from the camera threw them into stark white contrast to the darkening sky behind them. I looked for Janie first, as always. She was sitting on the porch swing with a cigarette in her hand and her hair pulled back from her face with a red scarf. I never knew she had once smoked.

Oliver sat next to her, in the middle of the swing; his feet were bare making him look like a small, frightened child. He had yet another scar, this one on his neck. It was still fresh and pink. Oliver looked gaunt and his face was a pasty gray color even in the wash of the bright camera flash. George sat on the other side of him, fit, tan, and healthy. They were a study in contrasts. Janie and George were doing a poor job of smiling for the camera. They looked like bookends trying desperately to keep Oliver upright.

I asked Buddy, “What happened to Oliver? How did he die?”

He didn't answer for a long time. Finally he said again, “Oliver had a lot of scars.” I wasn't sure if he was being metaphorical or literal.

Sitting in the foreground of the picture, in profile, was another recently discharged sailor. He was wearing the same green-gray military issue T-shirt as Oliver. I couldn't see his face very clearly. I flipped the picture over and read the names listed on the back. The new arrival was Johnnie. There had been a Johnnie on the boat with Oliver in the pictures that Florence had given me with the letters from Vietnam. He must have come home with Oliver after the war.

I squinted at the picture, desperate to get a peek inside of the house I would never ever get to see, but the windows were black.

I thought I might start crying again. “Buddy, thank you so much for letting me see these.”

He didn't like the way this was going with me thinking he was a nice guy and getting weepy every few minutes. He cleared his throat. “You can't keep them, you know. They belong to Nate. But you can look at them for a bit.”

“I know, but I still really appreciate you sharing them with me.”

He got up and started walking himself to the door, talking over his shoulder. “I wrote my address on the top of the box so you can bring them back to me. But don't go breaking into my damn house when you come. Knock on the door.”

It had stopped raining by the time he left. I watched him throw his umbrella into the bed of his truck and climb behind the wheel. I waved to him as he drove away; he just shook his head at me.

I wanted to sit down and go through the entire box of pictures systematically, but I didn't have time. I had to meet Elliott at the courthouse. I took out my phone and snapped a picture of the kids all swimming at Slide Rock and sent it to Georgia.

As I hurried across the square, being careful to miss the puddles of red mud, I called my sister.

“Hey, I just got my hands on some pictures of Huntley. I sent you one of Mom and Oliver swimming in the river.”

“Hi, Olivia. I'm glad you called.”

Something was wrong, we always spoke to each other in shorthand, not in full formal sentences. “And why are you glad that I called, Georgia?”

She tossed out a fake laugh. “That's so funny that you ask. Yes, he's right here. Do you want to talk to him?” Georgia pulled the phone away from her ear and said very loudly, for my benefit, “Leo, do you want to say hi to Livie?”

Dammit. I stopped walking and hid out underneath an awning trying not to get dripped on. I said, “Hi there.”

“Hi, what are you doing?” It was Leo's mad voice. What in the world had Georgia said to him? Why was he at her house?

I told him briefly about the pictures that Buddy had dropped off. I began to describe one of them when he cut me off. “Listen, Georgia and I were just talking about Janie's birthday. Do you want me to fly down with her to help you scatter the ashes?”

I felt myself flinch when he said that. What day was it? I spun around looking at the shop windows for some indication of the date. “What . . . you were what? What day is it?”

“It's the twenty-eighth, Georgia is flying down in two days.”

I couldn't seem to say anything.

“Livie?”

“Um, no I . . . I think it should just be me and Georgia. But I'm not sure I'm ready. There are still so many things I don't know. I don't think . . .” How could it be here already? Time seemed to be rushing past me and I was unable to keep up.

Leo said, “You can't stay.”

“What?”

“You can't stay there, Olivia. You've been gone for almost a month. You need to put your mom to rest and come home.”

“I . . . I know.” We sat on the phone in a long uncomfortable pause.

Leo broke first. “I've got to run. I'll call you later. Love you.”

“Me too.” I hung up and threw my head in my hands. I waited in the shelter of the hardware store awning for Georgia to call me back. I knew as soon as Leo was out the door she'd start dialing.

When my phone rang I picked up and began talking before Georgia could say anything. “I didn't realize it was almost the thirtieth. I'm not ready.” I felt choked for time. “You can't come down here yet.” That jar of ashes was my indemnity. It was the only thing allowing me to stay down in Tillman. I couldn't let go of it, not yet.

“Livie, we said we'd do it on her birthday. It's time. I've already got my ticket.”

“Well, cancel it. I'll pay for it. But I'm not doing it, not yet.” My voice was high and sounded panicky. “There's still too much I have to figure out.”

I think Georgia might have seen this coming because she didn't sound surprised, just tired and disappointed. “Figure out about what? About Mom or about you and Leo?”

“I don't want to fight with you about this. I didn't realize how close we were to her birthday.” She didn't say anything so I waited her out. I was watching the remains of the storm blow out past the square and cloak the mountains in fog.

Finally she sighed. “You need to talk to Leo and tell him how you're feeling.”

“I know. I've tried. He won't talk to me on the phone. He must know something is off. I need to come home to have that conversation. We've been through too much and he deserves an honest discussion, in person. But I can't come home yet. I'm on borrowed time down here. I can feel it. I need to finish this first. Then I'll come home and he and I will talk.”

“Fine. I'll postpone, but not for very long, Olivia. It's not just you in this. You have to come clean with Leo. And I haven't seen Logan all summer. You really are on borrowed time down there.”

I made my way slowly toward the courthouse to meet Elliott. I could feel life barreling toward something. I just didn't know what would happen when it hit.

The long, deep staircase up to the courthouse door was wide and shallow and forced you to walk in a strange processional, always making you step up with the same leg.

Walking through the revolving oak doors assaulted me with cold, stale air. It smelled like dust and floor polish. There was a metal detector just inside the entrance; the juxtaposition of it with the old-fashioned entrance and grand foyer just looked silly.

I was lost in thought as I gathered my bag from the metal detector's conveyor belt. The booming voice of Jimmy startled me, snapping me out of it. “Don't let her in here, Knox. That girl's nothing but trouble.”

I turned around to see Jimmy coming across the foyer. I put a smile on my face trying not to look on the outside like I felt on the inside. “Are you trying to get me kicked out, Jimmy?”

“Yes, I am.” He came over and gave me a little hug.

“Listen, I wanted to thank you again for letting us use your boat.” Elliott and I had taken it out to the Ruins on a few occasions. “Are you sure you don't mind?”

“Of course not. Eli's the only one who ever fills it with gas so you two keep using it. I just saw him upstairs.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the licensing office sign and said, “Are you two here to apply for a marriage license?”

“A what!”

Jimmy and Knox, the ancient security guard in his oversized ill-fitting outfit, laughed at my outburst. Jimmy said, “I'm just messing with you.”

“Ha. Right. That's a good one.” I said good-bye to Jimmy and headed upstairs toward the records office. It was on the second floor right next to the license office where I assume one would go to apply for a marriage license.

I opened the door to the small, quiet room and saw Elliott standing at the tall counter with his back to me. Just seeing him had an immediate calming effect. That rushing clock in my mind slowed down when I spotted him.

Elliott turned when I came in and smiled at me. He reached out for my hand and pulled me up next to him at the counter. Yes, calm. I couldn't let go of his hand.

Elliott was speaking quietly, the way you do when you're in an unfamiliar office space. “There you are. I've been telling Maggie what you're looking for. She thinks we might be able to find some old plat maps in the basement archives.”

I smiled at Maggie. She was behind the counter and on the phone, but she smiled back at me. I asked Elliott, “Do you think I could get a copy of Oliver's birth and death certificates here too?”

“Probably.”

Maggie finished her phone call and gave me her full attention. I gave her Oliver's name and dates of birth and death and asked if I could get copies of his records. She was writing his information down on a form and without looking up asked, “Are you next of kin?”

My heart sank. I didn't know why I wanted to gather these things about Oliver. Maybe because I was now viewing myself as his namesake. But I did want to know, and now I would have to go back into the Internet searches to find it.

Elliott answered for me. “Yes, she is.”

“I am?”

“You're his niece.” He winked at me imperceptibly. “You and Georgia are his next of kin.”

Elliott was trying to bypass some red tape, but in a way he was right. Georgia and I were the only family George and Oliver had left and I, for one, didn't want their memories forever trapped at the bottom of the lake.

As Elliott and I went down to the basement of the courthouse I told him about my unexpected visit from Buddy and the treasure trove he had shared with me. I couldn't wait to get home and show him all of the pictures.

Elliott held the door open for me. “Buddy's like your personal redneck fairy godmother.”

We entered the basement armed with our approved request forms for the plat maps and Oliver's records. The basement was like that of any ancient office building. The linoleum tiles were chipped at the edges and stained with decades of shoes scuffing over them. The air felt cold and damp and the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead gave off a strange blue cast.

We walked into a small windowless room and were greeted by the usual,
Hey Elliott, how's your father feeling?
I had become accustomed to people saying that by rote when they saw him.

The woman looked at our request form and told us she would have the copies of the birth and death certificates ready shortly. The old plat map would have to be ordered, but she would pull the records from the last transfer of ownership of the property for us.

Then she pointed to the reference numbers on the request for Oliver's death certificate. “Eli, this has a coroner's report attached to it. You can get that now while you wait.” She wrote some numbers on a slip of paper, gave it to Elliott. “You want to just pull this yourself?”

Elliott opened the door to the storage room and turned a dial on the wall. A series of round halogen lights overhead began to spring to life, illuminating a cavernous space stacked as far as I could see with rows and rows of file cabinets.