Every Girl Gets Confused (19 page)

We took our seats at the little table just as Madge entered the room. She grabbed her lunch from the fridge and warmed it in the microwave, chatting all the while about the customer load out front.

“I'm shocked at how many people we've had come through today, Katie. Spillover from the Black Friday sale. I think we'll get rid of that excess inventory in no time, thanks to your forward thinking.”

“I'm glad.”

She joined us at the table and we ate our respective lunches while Eduardo continued to work on Carrie's gown. I could
barely believe my eyes as I gazed at it. Truly, it looked as beautiful as something Doris would have worn in person. Maybe more so.

I realized I had to say something to the other ladies. I put down my fork and turned to Hibiscus. “I think Eduardo's remarkable. So gifted.”

“Yes, more than most of the rest of us put together,” Hibiscus said. “And I don't mean that in a putting-us-down sort of way. He's just in a league of his own.”

“Yeah.” Jane sighed. “It's true. And I just love his televangelist hair. If only my hair looked half that nice.” She fussed with her bob.

“I think your hair was fine the old way, Jane,” Madge said. “I don't know why women feel like they always have to change. I've had the same hairstyle since the eighties and no one cares.” She took a bite of her food and leaned back in her chair.

Jane quirked a brow, then went back to eating her peanut butter sandwich.

“Anyway, who are we trying to impress?” Hibiscus said. “It's not like Mr. Right is going to walk through the door of the sewing room.”

“Hi, I'm surprised to hear you talking like this,” Jane said. “You're such a free spirit. I thought you were one of those forever-blissfully-single gals.”

“Oh, I'm happy. Really. I love my work. It keeps me going.” Her smile faded a bit and I read the discontentment in her eyes as she glanced my way. “I guess we're all a little jealous of you, Katie.”

“M-me?” I nearly choked on my soda. “Why?”

“Because you're living the fairy tale. Small-town girl comes to the big city and finds the perfect guy. Tall, dark, and handsome, no less. You've got your happily ever after.”

I didn't respond at first. I wanted to tell her that fairy-tale
romances didn't exist, that even the best relationships went through trials. After considering that I finally shared a few thoughts. “I didn't even know what I was looking for in a guy. I think I just loved the idea of being in love. When I stopped looking, that's when God dropped Brady right in front of me. But honestly, even though it seems like we're living our happily ever after, it's laced with hard realities. Brady's got his share of trials, and I don't always know how to be what he needs me to be.”

“Maybe he doesn't need you to be anything,” Madge said. “Maybe he just needs you to stick with him and be consistent when nothing else around him is.”

Be consistent.

Interesting choice of words.

“His whole world is shifting right now,” Madge said. “And he's looking for something to hang on to that isn't moving.”

“I'm so glad he's a Christian.” As I spoke those words, I felt them deeply. “How do people get through hard situations when they don't know the Lord?”

“I have no idea.” Madge took a sip of her drink. “They struggle. There's no rock to hang on to when the seasons are shifting.”

Seasons. There was that word again. I thought about the sermon I'd listened to online. It made more sense now than ever.

Hibiscus appeared to be listening closely but didn't comment. Later, after Madge had left, she approached me. “I hear you guys talking about all this Christian stuff a lot. It used to weird me out, but I'm over it now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Some of this God-talk stuff is new to me. But something Madge said to you piqued my interest. What was that line about the seasons?”

“Oh, just that we can trust God no matter what season we're in. Is that what you mean?”

“I always considered the changes of life to be the natural ebb and flow of things. Didn't really factor God into them at all. It's just interesting to hear people talk about God like he's right here in the middle of it all.”

“Well, he is.” I chuckled. “In the very center.”

She shook her head. “You people. You've got me looking out of the corner of my eye just in case God pops out.”

“Oh, he's popping out, all right,” I said. “You just never know when he's going to show up . . . or how.”

Hibiscus slinked across the room like a spy on the lookout. “I'll keep my eyes open. I hope he doesn't mind if I'm up to my eyeballs in tulle and lace when he gets here.”

I had a feeling he wouldn't mind one little bit.

I like joy; I want to be joyous; I want to have fun on the set; I want to wear beautiful clothes and look pretty. I want to smile, and I want to make people laugh. And that's all I want. I like it. I like being happy. I want to make others happy.

Doris Day

I
'd seen Queenie in just about every situation life could offer: in her grandmotherly role with a stern expression as the children messed up her house with their toys and antics. In an authoritative role as matriarch of the town. In her spiritual role as Bible study teacher and lead WOP-per. I'd seen her pre-surgery and post-surgery and even watched as she transitioned
from widow to bride-to-be. But I'd never seen her as happy as the day she walked down the aisle toward Reverend Bradford.

Mama and I sat together in the front row of the Baptist church. In spite of the church being filled with friends and family, I felt lonely without Brady at my side. He'd insisted on coming, but the surgeon gave him a firm no. From what we'd been told, the long drive was too risky. Something about the danger of blood clots. The very idea terrified all of us, so in the end, Brady had acquiesced. Still, he insisted I text him pictures every step of the way. I'd agreed, but it still felt like a part of me was missing.

The music kicked off—Really? Brother Krank was playing the organ?—and the groom entered at the front with all of his groomsmen. I watched as his gaze traveled to the back of the sanctuary.

The back doors of the sanctuary opened. Bessie May sashayed in, wearing a dark blue bridesmaid gown. I had to give it to the old girl—she made that color look good. Or maybe it made her look good. Of course, the loopy makeup job left something to be desired, but who was I to judge an elderly woman's creativity with the eye shadow?

Behind her came Ophelia. Then Prissy. Finally, the moment that made my heart sing—Alva. Queenie's maid of honor. No one could understand the significance of this unless they knew the history. The two sisters hadn't spoken in years until this past summer. To see my aunt assume the role of maid of honor was truly the icing on the cake.

Mmm. Cake. Wouldn't be long now before I could have a yummy slice.

“Ooh, here she comes,” Lori-Lou whispered from behind me. “You can do it, girl! Eye on the prize!”

I looked toward the back of the auditorium expecting to see
Queenie but saw Mariela instead. Ah yes. The all-important flower girl. She looked glorious in her white dress with soft blue flowers around the waistline. Perfection.

Well, almost perfection. Mariela got distracted by a kid in the back pew who offered her a stick of gum. Her eyes widened.

“C'mon, Mariela. Stay focused,” Lori-Lou whispered. “Just like we practiced.”

Mariela shook her head at the kid and kept walking. She dropped one lone petal at a time from her basket, finally passing by our pew and taking her place in line behind the bridesmaids. At this point she began to squirm. I gave her a “be still” look and she sighed.

As the music shifted from “Pachelbel's Canon” to the “Wedding March,” the moment we'd all been waiting for arrived at last. I could hardly believe my eyes as the back door of the church opened and Queenie walked through. I'd seen her in the bridal room, but now, in an ocean of powder-puff blue, she looked every bit the radiant queen.

“The dress is perfect, Twiggy.” I leaned over to give my friend a smile as I whispered the words. “You were right all along.”

She winked.

Mama and I rose and the other guests followed suit as Queenie entered on my father's arm. I'd been to a lot of weddings over the years, but I'd never seen an eighty-two-year-old bride on the arm of her fifty-something son. They both beamed.

I watched as she clung to him and realized she was making this walk without her cane. Good for her. Well, good until they got to the middle of the aisle and her knee appeared to lock up. She stopped and slapped it, then laughed and kept going.

This seemed to generate quite a reaction from folks in the
room, especially Reverend Bradford, who got a kick out of it. Pop deposited Queenie at the front, did the official giving-away thing, and took a seat next to my mother, who already had a box of tissues in hand for the ceremony.

Behind me, Josh and Lori-Lou fussed over their younger children. Little Joshie whimpered and Gilly complained that she was bored. I turned back to see Lori-Lou pop a bottle into Joshie's mouth and place a box of crayons in Gilly's hand, then adjust her pregnant self in the hard pew. Wow. She had this mothering thing down to a science.

We all sat, and the pastor prayed and then went straight for the “I dos.”

“I guess when you're in your eighties there's no point in procrastinating,” Pop whispered. “Just get right to it.”

Maybe. Or maybe the pastor realized that the ladies-in-waiting were having a hard time standing for long. In fact, Bessie May shifted her position so many times I thought she might fall over. No doubt her hip joints were giving her fits again. But they all held the course until the rings were exchanged. Then, at just the right moment, the happy couple was instructed to seal the deal with a kiss.

As they did, the congregation roared with applause. Queenie waved them off and gave her husband another kiss. And then another. Only when the pastor cleared his throat did the new Mr. and Mrs. come up for air.

“And
that's
how they do it in the Presbyterian church,” Queenie hollered.

Alrighty then.

Another round of laughs followed, and Queenie appeared to eat it up. She took her bouquet from Alva and waved it in the air, triumphant, then linked her arm through her husband's and they trekked back down the aisle.

Then again,
trekked
was hardly the right word. She gripped his arm and paused twice to shake out her knee. But they made it to the back of the room. By the time the rest of us joined them in the lobby, they were kissing again. And again.

A few photos were taken after that, but most of the wedding party was ready to sit for a while, so off to the fellowship hall we went. The place was crowded with guests, and they cheered as Brother Krank, now playing the role of deejay, announced the entrance of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Bradford. My sweet grandmother and her husband made the rounds greeting the guests, but I was too floored by the room to pay much attention. Joni and Crystal had worked overtime to turn it into a place of beauty. Wow.

“And
that's
how we do it in the Baptist church,” my mother said as she gestured to the satin tablecloths and gorgeous serving tables.

I couldn't get over how pretty it all looked. But one thing was noticeably absent—the wedding cake. Weird.

I was just about to ask Mama about that when Crystal approached. “Isn't it bee-
you
-te-ful?” she crooned.

“Definitely.”

“Where I come from, back in Georgia, we have a
teen
-sy-tiny little fellowship hall.” She raised her voice to be heard about the crowd. “Nothin' this spec-
tac
-u-luh. I had
so
much fun helpin' your mama decorate. It's my passion.”

“You're very good at it,” I said.

“Let me just tell you, Joni is amazin'. We've become
such
good
free
-unds. She and Levi have dinner with us nearly every Friday evenin'.”

“You're still staying at Queenie's place?” I asked.

“Yes.” Her nose wrinkled. “But the sweetest thing has happened! Joni has asked me to be her roomie. Isn't that amazin'
news? She's livin' in that big ol' house all alone now that her parents are serving full-time as missionaries. You did know about that, didn't you?”

I shook my head. “No. I hadn't heard.”

“Zim-
bab
-way. In the deepest, darkest jungles of Africa.” Crystal shivered. “Anyway, I'll be movin' my stuff over this week, but it won't be for long.” She winked. “You might as well know that I have a little secret of my own.”

“One you can share?”

“Yes.” Her face lit in a smile just as Bessie May happened by with a plateful of appetizers.

“Let the old people through, if you please!” She pressed her way between Crystal and me and we both laughed.

“Don't eat all of the chicken strips, Bessie May!” Ophelia's voice sounded from across the room. “Save some for the rest of us.”

Crystal gestured for me to lean in close. “Jasper and I have set a date! The second Saturday in May.” She put her finger over her lips. “We decided we don't want to wait long. I mean, when you find the person you're supposed to be with forever, you want forever to begin right away. Isn't that how the old sayin' goes?”

Yes, that was exactly how the old saying went. Only, now I couldn't stop thinking about Brady. I somehow gathered my wits about me and congratulated Crystal with a warm hug.

“I know where to get my weddin' gown,” she said. “And I know just the design. I'm crazy about Scarlett O'Hara. It's going to be a full-out Southern ball, Katie. You'll have to help me with the details.”

“Of course. I want to be there for you.”

She put her finger to her lips again, then smiled. “Remember, it's top secret.”

“I won't breathe a word.”

Crystal slipped off through the crowd and I thought through everything she'd told me. Wedding. May. Southern. My heart swelled with joy for my brother and his fiancée, but at the same time I felt a little niggle of defeat when I thought about the fact that he would beat me to the altar. Not that this was a race.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Casey's voice sounded from behind me. I turned, nearly breathless as I saw him standing there dressed in a suit and tie.

“Well now, don't you clean up nice.” I instinctively reached out to straighten his tie, then quickly pulled my hand back. Oops.

“Very funny.” He tugged at his tie. “Not my favorite way to dress, but anything for Queenie. When you care about someone, you'd do just about anything for them.” He gazed at me with such intensity that I felt my face grow hot. I pulled the wedding program out of my purse and started fanning myself.

“What did you think of the ceremony?” I asked.

“I thought Bessie May was going to faint, and I was pretty sure Queenie was going to lose it coming up the aisle. But all's well that ends well.”

“I thought it was great.” I gave a contented sigh. “The perfect wedding.”

“Almost as much fun as the Franklins' wedding. Remember that one? I think we were twelve at the time.”

“Thirteen,” I said.

“Yes. Thirteen. And the flower girl stepped on the bride's train and ripped it off? Left her backside exposed?”

I cringed remembering, then laughed. “Yes, well, thank goodness for Queenie. She saved the day, remember?”

“Like I could forget! She wrapped her lace shawl around the bride's waist and told her to keep going and ignore the laughter.”

“So many great memories.”

“And most of them involve food. Are you hungry?”

“Starved.” I rubbed my stomach as it rumbled.

“We'd better get in line if we stand a chance of getting any food. You know how it is at the Baptist church.”

I knew, all right. Wedding or not, folks attacked the tables just like they did the monthly potluck. I trailed behind Casey until we found ourselves at the end of a long line. I watched as Queenie and Reverend Bradford laughed and smiled with the pastor and his wife. What fun to see the two reverends getting along so well. It did my heart good.

Casey said something about the weather, but I didn't hear it. I was way too distracted by Joni, who approached wearing the most gorgeous blue dress I'd ever seen. I let out a whistle. “Girl! Wow.”

“You like it?” She did a little twirl and her skirt swished.

“It's amazing.”

Clearly Casey thought it was amazing too. I caught him glancing at her more than once. I had to admit, she was a woman transformed. Our little softball-playing caterpillar had morphed into a butterfly.

The line inched forward a bit, giving us hope that we would soon reach the table. “Hope there's still food left by the time you get there.” Joni gave us a little wave and headed across the room to talk to Levi.

“Wow.” I shook my head, unable to put into words how I felt. “She's a beauty.”

“She is.” Casey didn't appear to be looking at Joni anymore, though. Ack.

I turned my attention to the food table as we finally reached the front of the buffet line. “Looks like we'll get to eat after all.”

“Interesting assortment of foods.” Casey reached for a
couple of empty plates and passed one to me. “Chicken strips from Dairy Queen? Peach preserves from Cooper Farms? Barbecue from Sam's?”

“Yeah, I know. Everyone and their brother contributed something, from what I've been told.”

We filled our plates and reached the dessert table, where we found slices of peach pie but nothing else. So strange.

“No wedding cake?” Casey looked perplexed.

“I was sure Ophelia was making one. Maybe she . . .” Oh no. Maybe she'd dropped it. I'd have to ask Mama about it—quickly.

I gestured to a nearby table. Casey followed on my heels and we both sat down and dove right in. I saw Mama and Pop talking with Mr. and Mrs. Lawson off in the distance. It felt good to have everyone together again. Really good.

“Hey, remember that one potluck dinner where Mrs. Franklin brought a pot roast that tasted suspiciously like motor oil?” Casey set his fork down and laughed.

“Um, yeah.” I used my paper napkin to wipe gravy from my lips. “Hadn't her husband just stolen the pan to drain the oil from his old Chevy truck or something?”

“Yeah. She was clueless. But I distinctly remember someone saying we all got an oil and lube job that day.”