Homefires (3 page)

Then, Callie’s wink caught my attention – her “
va va vooom
, babyyy” one. And Trish gazed at me so dewy eyed you’d have thought I
really was
Cinderella in my borrowed Victorian cut finery. Moose – whose tux tugged in all the wrong places – looked ready to burst with joy, furiously swallowing back another
yuk-yukk.

Kirk – well, Kirk’s hot look instantly converted my cold fear into anticipation.

Soon, I stood at the altar and Daddy placed my hand in Kirk’s, rushing tears to my eyes as I realized the significance of the gesture. Despite my father’s “under the thumb” controlling disposition, he’d always been a good,
caring
daddy. At least I
knew
Daddy, could predict him almost to the T. He was actually
giving me away. What –
I wondered in a heartbeat of panic – was I trading him
for
?

Kirk’s strong fingers squeezed mine, almost painfully, revealing his own state of nerves. And a certain
danger.
Adrenaline shot through me.
Now where did that come from? Danger.
I sucked in a deep breath, feeling kinda off the wall. Thank
God
only I knew
how
off-the-wall
I
could be. Preacher Hart’s voice moved in and out of my overcast reverie, “….
gathered together…join this man and this woman….”

Man and woman…man…Did I really know this man
? At times, I was certain I did. At others, I was equally certain I did not.

Mrs. Tilley, the pianist and soloist, burst into
Whither Thou Goest,
her humongous bosom heaving with emotion, predictably bending my eardrum by going sharp on the high notes. The giggle-button war commenced warbling inside me and I clamped my teeth together and gazed into Kirk’s solemn face for focus. He gazed back, as somber as I’d ever seen him, and I no longer heard the cracked operatic vibrato.

The pastor resumed…“
Whom God hath joined together…”

Joined together.
My breath hitched and Kirk’s fingers nearly crushed mine.

“I now pronounce you man and wife…”

In the next breath, Kirk was kissing me.
No turning back.

The thought flitted through my mind like startled ravens. And was gone.

“I miss Chuck,” I murmured between greeting wedding guests. Kirk gave me a sympathetic hug, knowing how I adored my older brother, whom he’d never met and from whom I’d not heard a word in months—during which I alternately wanted to hug him and slap his blasted face.

MawMaw, Papa, my Uncle Gabe and his wife Jean, a Chapowee girl, embraced Kirk and me in the church fellowship hall and chatted with my stepmother Anne. Papa, Teddybearish in his one and only church-going brown suit and tie, hugged me tightly, then whipped out his brown handkerchief to wipe suspiciously misty blue eyes. MawMaw was gussied up in a new cotton floral dress. Her eyes, so like Mama’s, puddled unashamedly with tears. A moment before leaving, she whispered in my ear, “Now you’uns can come’n see me and Papa, Neecy.”

I nodded, dodging a deeper analysis of my screwed-up family today. “Gabe told me he’d landed a good job at the Enka Plant near Asheville, North Carolina,” I said, brightly changing subjects, “and would be moving there the next week. Sure hate to see him go.” Gabe was my late mom’s only sibling.

“We’ll probably be moving there, too,” rasped MawMaw, emotionally. “Gabe needs lookin’ after, with diabetes and all. Jean works fulltime and I’ll be helpin’ them out all I can.” My heart sagged. Here, just when I’d not need Daddy’s permission to visit them, they were moving two hours away. I felt a bit betrayed. But what with all the wedding festivities, the feeling passed. More than ever, I missed my mom, who’d died when I was eleven, Chuck, fifteen, and Trish, five.

Daddy kept conveniently busy speaking to everybody else except my grandparents – his former in-laws, whom he’d succinctly cut from our lives one week after Mama’s death because MawMaw had spoken ill of him within his children’s hearing. I viciously pushed the thoughts away. I had to pigeonhole my priorities today. Simply had to. I refused to let loved ones’ hateful unforgiveness spoil my wedding day.

“The flowers look so pretty.” I smiled desperately at Kirk and he squeezed my hand. Somehow, he understood. His IRS refund check paid for the floral arrangements. Our wedding was lovely yet inexpensive. Relatives and ladies of Chapowee’s Methodist Church had prepared food for the reception, which was the way of Mill Hill folk, whose reward for generosity was the change of pace provided by a bona-fide church wedding. Heck, we’d invited nearly the whole danged village.

Daddy and Anne, whom Dad had married in my twelfth year, hugged us. “We waited till the line cleared out,” Anne
said, eyes reddened from sentimental tears, surprising me with the depth of her feelings.

“Where’s Grandma and Grandpa Whitman?” I addressed Daddy, knowing full well he’d excuse his own flesh and blood’s flaws, setting my teeth on edge.

“Ma said her rheumatism is acting up. Said to tell you they’re sorry they can’t be here.” Daddy’s gaze begged me to understand. I looked away and quickly moved to another subject, knowing Grandma Whitman always went any danged place she truly wanted to. Knowing, too, that she probably hadn’t sent me that apologetic message.

“Only Chuck’s missing,” I said, almost gratified to see hurt spring to Daddy’s eyes. Almost. In the next breath, I was hugging him, wanting to erase the hurt. Lord have mercy, today, my emotions felt tossed about like dead leaves in a whirlwind.

Chuck, my handsome brother, who left home a mere three years after Mama died to “see the world,” actually to flee Dad’s dominion of him, left the family in a
goshawful mess
. ‘Course, I couldn’t blame all the mess on him but what part he’d sullied, he’d done a bang-up job. I’d watched them pit wills, my zany, adventurous sibling and my logical dad. Daddy’s trying to tether his impulsive firstborn was like trying to hold on to a squirming, greased pig.

Sad thing was, I knew theirs was a battle neither could win and neither knew how to back off. One wintry day, following another shouting match with Daddy, Chuck quit his mill job and disappeared. I cried for weeks while Daddy ranted and roared until he ran out of steam, then grew eerily quiet. After that, up until this very day, I’d remained Daddy’s primary parental salvation, with him dedicating himself to overseeing every aspect of my life, especially my social diversions, which, during my teens, had peaked.

Today, a part of me rejoiced to escape Daddy’s sometimes suffocating restrictions and accountability. Another tiny part grieved being loosed from that same tight rein, one that included infinite, tender care and concern.

But only for an instant. On its heels came a rush of joy so great I thought I would surely explode.

“Neece?” Cole appeared at my side in his little white tux with short pants, tugging at my skirt. “Wuv ‘oo,” he whispered, his hazel eyes huge with awe and humility. I loved Anne’s and Daddy’s offspring as though I’d personally birthed him. Had since I’d first laid eyes on him.

I stooped and gathered him in my arms, choking back tears – knowing I’d be leaving him behind. How I’d miss him being there first thing in the morning, seated at the breakfast table, fork in hand, hungrily watching me cook. We hugged fiercely. He puckered and gave me a big juicy kiss on the lips.

“I love you, too, Cole. Thanks for being my ring bearer. You did great!” And he did.

“Hey, buddyroe,” Kirk winked solemnly at him as he returned with cups of punch.

Cole flashed us a huge grin, then scampered to join some cousins at the refreshment table. Though Kirk tried hard to hide it, I knew he was jealous of my close bond with my little brother. He wasn’t unkind to Cole, he simply wasn’t affectionate with him. Thought him “spoiled.” Fact of the matter, Kirk was and still is a territorial ol’ cuss.

It hurt, his coolness to Cole. But Kirk’s good far outweighed his flaws. So I managed to hide my disappointment and take it in stride.

“Come on, you guys!” Callie gestured hugely from the refreshment area, bare toes poking from beneath her blue hem. Well I hope n’ I never… I slowly shook my head, grinning that she’d already shucked her shoes. Cal’s earthiness was unquenchable. “
Hey ya’ll!”
she bellowed, “Time to cut the cake!”

Cal caught the bridal bouquet, nearly knocking Trish over in her pursuit.

“Not fair,” Trish shrieked, giggling. “She’s already getting married in two weeks.”

“All’s fair in love and war, doncha know? ‘S th’ way the mop flops.” Cal smugly clasped the arrangement to her bosom then shoved it into Roger Denton’s hands. Her fiance flushed magenta and struggled for decorum, as was customary following
Cal’s jinks. Even today, after lukewarm congratulations to Kirk and me, Roger’s gaze avoided ours. Only our love for Callie kept Rog and me civil toward one another. Only Kirk’s love for me made him tolerate either of them. Though, I have to hand it to Kirk – he relented for Cal to be in our wedding party, conceding that mine and Cal’s lifelong bonds were unbreakable.

I felt Kirk’s arm slide around my waist and tighten possessively. “Whatcha say we do a disappearing act?” he whispered in my ear, raising goosebumps all over me.

Without so much as a fare-thee-well, he grabbed my hand and we took flight.

CHAPTER TWO

Matrimony pulled me from the quicksand of non-belonging
,
a thing I’d not fully recognized until I stepped into my own house. And I thought how here, I would keep my own homefires a’burning. My very own.

Here, I
belonged.

For though Anne and I developed a close friendship during those last two years under Daddy’s roof, I’d never regressed to my former assured
dug-in
self. It wasn’t her fault nor Daddy’s; it was simply something altered in me by God only knows
what all
but, most certainly, what began with Mama’s early death
.

I’ll never know if things would’ve been different had Kirk not come along because he did and he gave me the greatest of all gifts: strong arms to hold me and this home called
ours
.

I blinked my eyes, irritated at Kirk’s fingers snapping at the end of my nose as I gazed mistily through
our
window into a dusky blue-gray sky whose horizon slowly oozed peach and crimson. I jerked the venetian blind string to, first, close out the world and second, to vent my annoyance at his fingers’ abrupt
snap
that always exploded over me, setting off my high-strung nerves.

“Where were you just now?” he asked, taking off his black tux coat, his heavy-lidded eyes glimmering with what I thought was amusement but suddenly realized was more. We’d chosen to forgo other choices to spend our honeymoon here, in our little village dwelling, only a couple of blocks from Daddy and Anne.

“Hmm?” he persisted in his velvety roughness and began to undress me with fumbling gentleness. I promptly assisted him.