Going to the Chapel (6 page)

“How can I not worry? You see, the wedding planner made the deposits for everything and showed Ruth the receipts. The invitations were all printed with the church on them and everything. Who knew the wedding planner could cancel all of the deposits last week and get the money back in checks? She forged
Aunt Ruth’s signature and cashed them. By now, she’s gone off to who knows where? Some island probably.”

“What?”

“Nineteen thousand dollars and she took it all with her so I’m sure she can afford a trip to some island. Ruth has been lying down with a cold washcloth on her head ever since it happened. Of course, she’s in the living room, because Howard locked himself in the bedroom and won’t let anyone else come in. I don’t think he knew how much Ruth had already spent on the wedding.”

Uncle Howard wasn’t alone in that. Nineteen thousand dollars. Wow. I knew from the bragging Elaine had done that the wedding was going to be expensive, but Elaine could buy a car with that. Of course, Uncle Howard had bought her a new car last Christmas so I guess she doesn’t need a car like I do, but still that’s a lot of money.

I swallow. “Well, I’m sure the police will find the wedding planner and get the money back.”

“Even if we got the money back today, there’s no place for the wedding now. The date that we had reserved at that beautiful church has already been given away and the wedding coordinator at the church refused to tell the other people that Ruth had booked there first. The coordinator said she was following policy and the other people had been on a waiting list and they won’t budge. So, there’s no church in Palm Springs for a wedding until next March. Gary lined up his internship this past week. He can’t put off marrying Elaine until March.”

Okay, so now that red ball of emotions is really jumping around. I mean, I hope Elaine gets to have her
big day; it’s just nice to know that no one’s going to be scrutinizing me on that day and wondering why I’m not following in Elaine’s rose-strewn path.

“There’s the church in Blythe,” I say. I know Aunt Ruth would consider that a step-down, but it’s not a bad church. Granted, it’s a little old and the carpet needs replacing, but every church can’t be a showplace.

“Remember that remodeling project the church was raising money for?” Aunt Inga asks.

“All the bake sales?”

“That’s the one. It’s happening now. The church is all torn up inside. We aren’t even meeting there for regular church services now.”

I can afford to be generous. “Well, I’m sure Elaine will find someplace nice for her wedding.”

Aunt Inga is silent a little longer this time. “I told everyone about the chapel where you work. How the ivy grows up the walls and there are roses all around and that the movie stars come there. Elaine even stopped crying at the mention of movie stars.”

“Oh, but my chapel isn’t—I mean—Elaine wouldn’t want to have her wedding at the place where I work.”

“She’s desperate.”

Not as desperate as I am about now. “Can’t she have it in the place where your church is meeting while the remodeling is going on? I know you must be meeting somewhere.”

“We’re using the school gym on Sunday mornings before the basketball team has their practice.”

“Oh.”

I don’t have the nerve to suggest it, but apparently Aunt Inga thought of it anyway because she contin
ues, “The coach said there is a basketball clinic during Thanksgiving weekend so there’s no time for a wedding. Especially not on the Friday evening after Thanksgiving.”

I take a deep breath. This can’t be happening. “But I’m new at my job. The boss won’t just let me use the place. Besides, it’s probably already booked.”

“You could ask….”

The red ball in my stomach is sinking like a hundred-pound bowling ball. I am forever in Aunt Inga’s debt. Not that she’s ever asked me for much in return for supporting me since I was five years old.

“I’m pretty sure it won’t work…” I swallow. That red ball is sitting like lead in my stomach. “Of course, I’ll ask but I don’t think—”

“Just asking is the important thing,” Aunt Inga says with the kind of confidence that lets me know that she has no doubt it will all work out. “Elaine is wondering if you have one of those Elvis impersonators at your chapel.”

“Tell her we don’t have any impersonators.”

“But you must have people who sing at your place.”

“Sure, there are some vocalists that we use, but they’re mostly—ah—slower than Elvis. They do a lot of hymns.” I don’t mention that Mr. Strett, the male vocalist at the Big M, got a little tipsy at the last funeral he worked and was even slower than usual as he sang about gathering at the river.

“Most of the people who use your place must be older then.”

“That’s right,” I say in relief. “I really think Elaine would like someplace else better.”

“Elaine says the gym smells like dirty socks.”

“Well, of course, not the gym, but there must be someplace else she could use. How about the hotel where they had the engagement party? Elaine could have a small wedding there. I thought the place was very nice.”

“They told Ruth she was never to come to their place again,” Aunt Inga says indignantly. “Not even for lunch.”

“Oh.”

“I think some of their staff quit after the party we had there. They said Ruth made them wax the floor and then she complained that it was too slippery.”

“There have to be other hotels in Palm Springs,” I say. “That one isn’t the only nice place there.”

Aunt Inga is silent. “I think the hotel people all talk to each other.”

“Oh.”

“No one said yes we could come,” Aunt Inga says. “All because of that wax on the floor. And maybe the problem with the punch cups. Or maybe the stuffed mushrooms Ruth sent back to the kitchen. I can’t believe they would make such a fuss over a few little things. Every mother wants her daughter’s engagement party to be perfect.”

“Wow.” This can’t be good. Not even I mess up that badly. I never thought Aunt Ruth and I would have anything in common. “Everyone said no?”

“I’m going to pray for your boss, what’s his name?” Aunt Inga asks me a question instead of answering my question. Although, I guess there’s no need to answer my question. It’s all too obvious.

“We call him Mr. Z,” I say.

Cassie has been sitting on the floor and watching me. She has looked a little puzzled for a while. Probably because of the Elvis reference. Once I mention Mr. Z though, she smiles encouragingly. She thinks I’m going to tell Aunt Inga about where I work. But I can’t tell Aunt Inga, not now.

“What kind of name is Mr. Z?” Aunt Inga asks. “He’s not a movie star, is he? Elaine would really like it if a movie star came to her wedding. Maybe it would make up for some of these last minute problems.”

“No, Mr. Z is not a movie star. It’s just a nickname.”

“Oh.” Aunt Inga brightens anyway. “Well, a man with a funny nickname must be a nice man even if he’s not in the movies.”

“He’s very nice.”

“And you promise you’ll ask?”

“I promise.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good,” Aunt Inga says with satisfaction in her voice. “I told Ruth we would work everything out. The family’s counting on you.”

Only I know how much Aunt Ruth must hate asking me for help. Well, I guess my mother would know, too. And her mother before her.

Suddenly, I realize Aunt Inga said we’ll work it out. That word
we
covers a lot of territory. “Did Aunt Ruth say she wanted my help?”

“She needs your help,” Aunt Inga says. “It doesn’t matter what she says.”

It matters to me. “Unless she asks me, I don’t think I should be getting into her business.”

“This is family business,” Aunt Inga says. “We’re all family.”

Aunt Inga never knew all of the times Elaine called me her half cousin when we were growing up. Even then I knew Aunt Inga felt pulled apart with her love for me and my mother on one side and her love for her own family on the other. No one should ever have half families. Sometimes I think even a stepfamily has it easier. At least with a step, you’re going forward. With a half, you’re coming apart.

“I’ll call when I know anything,” I finally just say. It is pointless to upset Aunt Inga by refusing to ask Mr. Z when I already know the answer has to be no.

I can see Cassie is puzzled. Either that or she’s looking worried because I’m probably turning a little green.

“Well, I better get back to my crocheting,” Aunt Inga says. “How many petals do you need for the aisle anyway? I have sixty-four.”

“That sounds like plenty,” I say. “Don’t strain your eyes with all that crocheting.”

“I won’t. You’re sure you’ll call tomorrow?”

“I’ll call.”

I stand still and just hold the receiver in my hand after Aunt Inga has hung up.

“Are you okay?” Cassie asks.

“I’m doomed.”

Cassie is worried about me so I tell her about the conversation I just had with Aunt Inga.

“Of course, Elaine’s wedding is planned for Thanksgiving weekend so there’s probably already a funeral booked,” Cassie says to be comforting.

“There will be a funeral,” I agree. “It’s eleven days
away yet so the person is probably not even dead at this point, but someone will want to be buried then.”

Surely someone will die a week or so from now. That’s one of the challenging things about the funeral business. No one plans too far ahead. Although Mr. Z does have a prepaid plan that is popular with people, no one actually schedules their funeral in advance like couples do who are planning a wedding. Actually, if the Big M were a wedding chapel, it would probably not even have an open date for Elaine’s wedding. I’m surprised Aunt Ruth didn’t think of that. I guess Aunt Ruth is too desperate to think. She’s probably still hoping that one of those Palm Springs hotels will decide she’s not so bad to deal with after all.

“Maybe you should call Doug,” Cassie says.

“He won’t know if there will be a funeral in eleven days,” I say in surprise.

“No, but he sounded like he was under a lot of stress when I talked to him,” Cassie said. “I know he’s young, but stress isn’t good for anyone.”

I’m sure Cassie was thinking about the man I talked to at the Big M this morning. His name was Robert Cameron and he said almost those same words about his brother, James, who had died unexpectedly. The two brothers hadn’t talked to each other for three years because they’d had an argument over their mother’s will.

Robert shook his head as we talked about what he wanted for the final viewing arrangements for James. Robert kept talking about their argument as if he couldn’t let go of it. He said that, if he had known the stress his brother was under because of problems with
his business, he would have given James every single dime of both of their shares of the estate just to ease his troubles. Robert said he’d rather have his brother around than all of the money in the world. He didn’t know why they had been fighting so long about it all anyway. They’d wasted some of their best years together.

“I’ll call Doug in the morning,” I say. I don’t tell Cassie, but I’ll even apologize to him just to show him how civilized I can be. “And I’ll do what Aunt Inga wants and ask Mr. Z about using the mortuary.”

All of this worrying about people dying is getting to me.

“The mortuary is a beautiful place,” Cassie says. “With all those roses, the courtyard would be a lovely place to get married.”

“It’s an even better place to have a funeral. It’s probably not booked now, but Mr. Z knows it will be booked so he’ll say it will be busy that weekend.”

“But what will Elaine do?” Cassie is worrying the way she does over people, even Elaine.

“I don’t know. There’s got to be a big hotel or something around here. And, if not that, we can try parks. People have had beautiful weddings in parks and there have to be dozens of parks in Los Angeles.”

“Would they let her put up a tent or something?” Cassie asks.

I sigh. “Probably not. And I can’t see Elaine doing a picnic-style wedding where all of the guests sit on the ground behind some trees. For one thing, she wouldn’t have an aisle.”

“Oh, she has to have an aisle. The most important
part of the place where you get married is the aisle. You have to be able to walk down an aisle so you can be given away by your parents.”

Cassie is starting to look as though she might cry. I know it’s not about Elaine’s wedding anymore.

“I bet your mom didn’t want to give you away when you were born,” I say because I know where Cassie’s thoughts are going. I remember all those times we played wedding years ago.

“If my mom hadn’t wanted to give me away, wouldn’t she have already registered with those adoption places?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she doesn’t know about them.” I know it’s not much comfort.

Cassie and I sit there for a while in the quiet of her apartment. This is one reason Cassie and I are so close. We both know the aches of each other’s hearts so well we can just sit together with our feelings. I wished I could give Cassie some encouragement, but I’ve wondered, too, why her mother wasn’t registered at any of the agencies. I wonder sometimes if her mother is dead, but I’ve never said anything to Cassie. That would crush all of her hope. At least I know where my mother is even if it has been weeks since we’ve talked on the phone.

I scoot a little closer to Cassie and pick up the bag of dirt she’s been using. “That begonia plant you brought home needs pruning.”

We spend the rest of the evening taking care of Cassie’s plants.

I
call Doug on my cell phone while I am taking the bus to work on Tuesday. I know Doug likes to get into the hospital early so he can eat breakfast in the cafeteria before his 10:00 shift begins for the day. He told me that much on our drive to Palm Springs for Elaine’s party.

I hear the call go through and then a voice answers, “Doug here.”

Okay. The sun is shining into the bus windows so brightly that I squint. The bus must have gone through a car wash of some kind recently because usually the coat of dirt on the windows keeps the sun from bothering my eyes. “Hi. This is Julie—Julie White.”

“Hey, how’s it going?”

Doug’s voice isn’t warm, but it’s not cold, either. It sounds restrained. I try not to think about what that might mean.

“Good. I’m good.” I’m sitting on the backseat of this Metro bus and there aren’t a lot of other people around me. My work hours start a little later than those
of most commuters so the big crush of workers has already been bussed to wherever they need to be. Still I look around to be sure I have some privacy for my apology. There’s a girl two seats ahead of me, but she has headphones on so she can’t hear me.

I decide to dive in. “Yeah, well, I’m calling about the other day at my cousin’s party last week. I wanted to say I’m—”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. He pauses for a second and I wonder if we’ve lost the connection. “I didn’t realize what I was doing when I left that party until Cassie explained it.”

He actually sounds sincere.

“What did Cassie say exactly?”

“Nothing that I shouldn’t have figured out if I’d been thinking. I hadn’t realized that you had been raised by your aunt.”

“That’s not a big deal.” I don’t like people knowing my mother left me so I don’t go around announcing the fact that my aunt Inga had to raise me instead. Still, it’s nothing for Doug to worry about.

“It
is
a big deal,” Doug says. “I know. I was raised by my aunts, too, so I know something about how that feels. It’s always made me a little touchy about things like family get-togethers.”

“Oh.” I’m not so sure I want to share the same problem with Doug. It’s not so easy to be angry with someone if you share even one trouble with them.

“I know your situation was different because you got to stay with just one of your aunts,” he says.

I’m glad he realizes we didn’t really have the same problem. “My aunt Inga is great.”

“That’s what Cassie said. I rotated between three of my aunts.”

Wow, I had never thought about it, but that is what could have happened to me. There was nothing that required Aunt Inga to keep me full-time. She could have asked Aunt Ruth to take me part of the year and Aunt Gladys to take me the other part. I wouldn’t have known where I was living if that had happened. Besides, I would have felt torn apart. The only thing I know of that the aunts would have all agreed on was that it was such a shame my mother was wasting her life and neglecting her duty to me. Imagine hearing that from three different households, two of which viewed you as only halfway part of their family.

“So maybe you can understand why I didn’t do so good talking to your aunt,” Doug says. “I was telling her the truth when I said I had a thing about commitments. Even the word makes me uptight. And all those relatives there.”

My mind has already left the problems of Elaine’s party. Now that I know our problems weren’t completely the same, I am starting to feel a little compassion for Doug. “Where did you even keep your clothes? With all that moving around?”

I know from my own experience how important clothes and stuff are when you’re going to school.

“I usually just kept my suitcase packed.”

“Wow.” I guess I can see why he’d have a commitment problem. “But shouldn’t all of that moving around have made you the reverse? Shouldn’t you want to be committed to someone? I mean not me. But someone with a closet.”

“You would think so.” Doug chuckles. “I think I’m a little all over the place with it, but I’m working on it. And, just so you know, I’m grateful the aunts took me in when my parents died. I don’t know where else I would have gone.”

“I know the gratitude, too,” I say. Those of us who are raised by relatives are the almost lost ones. We owe so much to those who took us in when they didn’t have to do anything. “And the guilt.”

“Yeah,” Doug says.

I can’t help but put myself in Doug’s place. What would I have done if none of the aunts had wanted me? My aunt Inga never made me feel unwelcome, but I was always aware that I might be holding up her life in some way. Aunt Inga was still young when she took me in. I wondered if she would have gone and done something different than work for Aunt Ruth if she didn’t have me to worry over. I owe Aunt Inga big-time for all she did for me. And I wasn’t even part of her family, not in the way Elaine and the other cousins were.

Most people would agree a mother or father is required to take care of their child; an aunt really doesn’t need to care for a niece or nephew. And, in my case, I’m a half niece, so there was even less obligation. I have always wanted Aunt Inga to see me at my best just so she knows she didn’t waste her time for all those years.

“It must have been tough to lose both of your parents,” I say to Doug. I am feeling it’s okay if we have some bond between us after all, so I tell him a little of my story. “My dad died, but my mother just moved to Las Vegas and left me with Aunt Inga.”

“That had to be hard, too,” Doug says. “It took me a long time to get over feeling bad because I was an orphan. As long as I had the aunts, though, I had somebody.”

“Yeah.” I know what he means, but I don’t want him to think I’m too pathetic so I add, “My mother would have taken me to live with her if she had room for me in Vegas.”

“If my parents had lived, I would have stayed in a closet just to be with them. So you’re lucky. You get to see your mother. At least, I assume you do.”

“Yeah, I do.” I haven’t felt lucky about that for a long time.

“Anyway, I have been looking at myself in the mirror lately and wishing I was a better person,” Doug says. “I might have issues, but that’s no reason to let other people down. That goes double for last week. I shouldn’t have split on you like I did. I’m really very sorry.”

Okay, so I guess I have to forgive him. That doesn’t mean I’m going all gooey over him or anything, it just means that fair is fair. He spilled his problems and we talked. He apologized. It’s time for me to accept his apology—almost.

“Yeah, well, I just want to say I would never pressure some guy to have a relationship with me.” I want to get this into the conversation before Doug apologizes for everything under the sun. “I know I needed a date. But I never thought that meant anything more than that you were doing me a favor. That’s all.”

“Like I’ve said, it didn’t turn out to be much of a favor.”

“Just so you know that I know there’s no commitment involved. We’re both commitment free.”

I’m trying to be as clear here as possible.

“It’s not that kind of commitment that was giving me a problem,” he says and his voice is soft. “If I’d thought about it for two seconds, I would have known it’s the look-at-my-life kind of commitment that’s bothering me. That’s what’s been bothering me for months. I think that’s why your aunt pushed my buttons so easy. Not that it’s her fault. She seems like a nice lady.”

“I haven’t heard many people call Aunt Ruth nice. Effective maybe. Nice no.”

Doug laughs. “She just comes on a little strong. She reminds me of one of my aunts. I think I could handle her okay next time.”

Well, that sounds promising. I don’t want to rush in and ask if he’ll be my date for the rehearsal dinner and wedding yet, but it is promising. “One good thing about Aunt Ruth is that she always puts out wonderful food at her parties. She never skimps on what she serves. Did you get some of those crab-stuffed mushrooms before you left?”

“I’m afraid I just left when I left.”

I don’t know why, but it makes me feel better to know that Doug didn’t make a stop at the buffet table on his way out of Elaine’s party. I would rather be left standing because of honest issues instead of a craving for crab appetizers. “I hear Aunt Ruth is planning prime rib and lobster for the rehearsal dinner.”

I’m being optimistic here and assuming there’ll be a place to have the rehearsal dinner. Finding a place
for a sit-down catered dinner won’t be easy, but I’m sure Aunt Ruth will find it.

Doug whistles. “Prime rib and lobster. If you need a date for that one, I’m your man. That is, if you still want me to go with you after the last time. I promise I won’t get cold feet. I mean, if you need a date—I wasn’t sure after Cassie talked to me later if you needed a date or not.”

The tension in my shoulders eases. “Oh, I need one. And thanks. I don’t know where the dinner will be yet, but I appreciate the offer.”

“No problem. In fact, I need someone to go someplace with me and I thought of you so I’m really glad you called,” Doug says.

“Turnabout is fair play. I’ll even put up with your Aunt Ruth—the one who you mentioned.” Now see, this is how it should be between Doug and me. We can both help each other out, especially now that we have the aunt thing between us. I know being raised by an aunt has left me a little insecure and I’m thinking Doug has had the same feelings, especially if he went from house to house trailing a suitcase behind him. At least I had the same closet for all those years.

“My aunt lives in Texas now so it’s not about her, but you might not want to do this anyway,” he says.

There’s enough hesitancy in his voice to make me stop and think. Okay, so what could it be? Something south of the border? Visiting really sick people who are contagious?

The bus I am on has just pulled into a stop and is letting a couple of teenagers off. My stop will be here soon.

“Is it legal?” I finally ask. “I don’t do nonlegal.”

“Me, neither. This is a little strange, but definitely legal.”

I can hear some bus noises on his side of the conversation so I give up my theory that he is driving himself to work. He’s bussing it the same way I am, which makes me like him even better. I always like people who don’t put on airs and it’s hard to put on airs on a Hollywood Metro bus. Especially because, if you did, people would just think you were practicing a movie role so it wouldn’t really do you any good since they would already know that you’re not one of the big stars since you’re riding the bus and no one even recognizes you.

“I don’t have to dig a pit and cook a stuffed pig or anything like that, do I?” I ask. “I’m not a very good cook.”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Well, then, if I don’t have to dig any pits and there’s no Aunt Ruth, how bad can it be?”

Doug pauses and then he almost whispers. “I need someone to go back to that rally with me.”

I can picture him looking around the bus to make sure no one is listening to him, just as I’m looking now before I talk. “You mean that Billy Graham thing?”

“Well, Billy Graham is not the guy speaking, but yeah, my aunt said it’s like a Billy Graham thing.”

Doug’s voice slowly got back to normal.

“Your aunt’s going? The one who went with you before?” I ask more as a stalling thing than because I have any reason to ask. Of course, his aunt is going if Doug is going. She’s probably the reason he’s going. Doug probably feels the same need I have to make his own aunt
glad she’d spent the effort to help raise him rather than let him go into some foster home. Maybe he even gets extra credit if he drags someone else along with him.

“No, she’s gone back to San Diego. She doesn’t know I’m going to the place again.”

I notice the girl in front of me has removed her earphones so I lower my voice. “Isn’t the reason for going to make your aunt happy? You’ll get extra points if she actually sees you there and doesn’t just hear you say that you’ve gone.”

I’ve got to admit the thought of going with Doug to some religious rally makes me wish it was something involving a stuffed pig instead. Doug may be comfortable at some rally, but I would not be. I’ve gone many times to the same church in Blythe, but God and I have an understanding in that place. I leave Him alone and He leaves me alone. I don’t know what He would think if I showed up at a rally in the Hollywood Bowl. That’s a little—well, public—don’t you think?

Doug says, “I’m not going there to get points with my aunt.”

Okay, so now he’s really making me nervous.

“Well, I don’t think you need a date for a rally,” I say, mentally inching myself away from the invitation. “Not if it’s anything like church.”

“I don’t know if it’s like church. I’ve never been to church.”

“Well, trust me, I’ve gone to church tons of times and you don’t need a date for the rally.”

“Maybe not, but I need a friend.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that so I clear my throat.

He keeps talking. “It’s tonight. I was going to call you later today. I didn’t want to ask too far ahead of time because I didn’t want you to worry about going.”

“I’m not worried.”

“Good. I thought you might be a little afraid to go to something like that. Some people are.”

“I’m not afraid. Well, maybe a little. But not like walking into a deserted house in the dark scared.”

I hope I’m telling Doug the truth on this one. I tell myself I’m not afraid really. I might be very, very nervous. But that’s different, isn’t it?

“So you’ll go?” Doug says. “I could meet up with you at the coffee shop after work and we could have something to eat before the rally.”

I take a deep breath and remind myself that he is the only date I am likely to get for Elaine’s wedding. “Sure, that works.”

The deep breath helps. Either that or it completely rattles my brain because it suddenly occurs to me that going to that rally might be just the thing I need to do. Unlike Doug, I’d be willing to use this one for aunt approval. Maybe Aunt Inga will be so pleased with me for going to something like that on my own that she won’t be quite so disappointed when I tell her that we have to look for another location for Elaine’s wedding.