The Glory of Green (2 page)

I looked at Iris, quiet, with a gentle manner. I could tell she was trying not to laugh.

"I do, don't I?" I asked.

"Lois, you help everyone you cross paths with," Iris said."But most of us like being in control. That's what I hate most about this cancer. It wasn't in my plans."

"Marrying Walt wasn't in my plans either," Tammy said."Talk about bowling me over. We never know what's around the corner."

"Somehow all the twists and turns work out," Iris Jo said."You and Chris will make the right decision."

"He already has," I said. "I've got to go."

I headed for the door and turned back to give Iris a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm going to tell him his idea is brilliant. Then I'm going to suggest he donate his decorator items to charity."

Chris and I met the next afternoon with Maria and Pastor Jean in the parsonage next to Grace Community Chapel. Jean, dressed in the skirt and blouse she had preached in, settled the trio of boys in front of a cartoon DVD and came back into the kitchen where we sat.

"
¿Hay algo mal?"
Maria asked Jean, looking tired and a little worn.

"No, no," Jean said and patted her hand.

Once more frustrated by my lack of Spanish skills, I glanced at Jean and Chris, both of whom were learning the language at a quick pace. My studies were interrupted by impatience and a decided lack of devotion to vocabulary words.

"Maria wants to know if something is wrong," the pastor said. "She's had so much bad news these past few months.I told her this was a good thing." She smiled at the younger woman and touched her hand softly.

Maria, one of Green's many Mexican immigrants, had lost her husband in a logging accident in a nearby parish. She regularly attended the Spanish-language service Pastor Jean had started, a controversial ministry among church members who didn't want "those foreign people moving in."

"Lois and I have a gift for you," Chris said.

"A gift?" Maria asked, and then smiled, her white teeth beautiful against her dark skin. "More clothes for my boys?"

"
Una casa para sus hijos,"
my fiancé said in his new Spanish."A house for your boys."

"We want you to have it," I said.

"For me?" Maria asked.

"For you," Chris and I said at the same moment.

I turned to Jean, inspired by her relentless efforts to meet both the spiritual and physical needs of her flock. "Let's have a party and give items for the house. No hand-me-downs."

"A new kind of bridal shower. I like the way you think, Lois. I'll start spreading the word while you show Maria the place."

Maria seemed almost dazed as we escorted her across the road and into the trailer, the boys more interested in the dogs than the tour.

"How much?" she asked after we looked at bedrooms and pointed out closets and cabinets.

Chris and I looked at each other, puzzled.

"How much the rent? I don't think I can afford."

I engulfed her in one of Green's well-known hugs, tears flowing down my cheeks and Chris's eyes glistening.

How much?

How much courage it took for her to build a better life for her children. How much energy to make decisions every day without understanding the language.

How much?

"
Gratis,"
I said in one of the few Spanish words I had mastered."Free. Our wedding gift to you."

Looking at the trailer through Maria's eyes reminded me how much a home of your own mattered.

How incredible it would be when Chris moved into our home on Route Two, the simple old house that would be filled with love.

You missed a treat if you weren't at Mary McHeart's pooch party for her eight-year-old poodle, Prissy, last Friday. A three-foot-tall cake was made in the shape of a doghouse, and the pile of presents was described as "bigger than Mt. Everest." Nearly twenty dogs were on hand to celebrate, and, needless to say, it was a lively event. The only problem occurred when basset hound Daphne got a little too frisky with Elvis, a visiting schnauzer.
This reporter's Rascal was a perfect gentleman.

—The Green News-Item

W
hen I opened my eyes, I knew the perfect headline for the hours ahead: "Historic Day! Lois Barker Getting Married!"

Most headlines don't get exclamation points, but this story ranked right up there with the biggies. For years I wondered if I would ever find a husband. I was as lousy at waiting as my puppy was at using the bathroom in the right place.

When I found Chris, I realized what I had been waiting for.

To think that he had been down in Green, Louisiana, waiting for me to come along at just the right moment. Early this evening, a gorgeous spring Saturday, we would wed before family and friends at Grace Chapel, the tiny church where my awkward approach to faith was being molded into something better. What an incredible moment it would be!

We would start married life in a hotel near the airport in Shreveport and leave the next day for a week at a cabin in Montana, a secluded hideaway with no phones or news stories or friendly meddling.

Thrilled, I hopped up, surprising Holly Beth, settled on the pillow next to mine. She barked and began to chase her tail, her excitement mirroring what I felt. "Come on, silly girl," I said, scooping her up and laughing. "We've got a big day ahead of us."

I turned the coffeepot on and stepped out the side door, setting her in the yard. She explored, and I drank in the perfect spring morning. Tender new leaves glowed with the early light, and a streak of orange sparkled in the sky. This was the kind of day I had hoped for when we chose our wedding date.

The forsythia was brilliant yellow, and tiny wood violets nestled in the low spot next to the driveway. The green spikes of a clump of Louisiana irises had shot up next to the slab of the garage, which was burned by one of the paper's former owners in a series of fires intended to run me out of town.Thank goodness those days of intimidation were over. Chuck McCuller was dead. His brother, Dub, was on probation, and that horrid politician and crooked realtor, Major Wilson, was behind bars.

Chris and I looked forward to a nice, calm life as a married couple, the newspaper hassles of the past two years behind us.One of our first projects was going to be to rebuild the garage, with a workshop attached to the back.

When the phone rang, I grabbed Holly, steadied my coffee, and began what had become a familiar dash. The old house relied upon Aunt Helen's rotary phone, and I spent a lot of time running for it. Perhaps Chris and I should invest in a cordless, although I liked to look out the kitchen window while I talked, standing at the sink, or sitting at the little pine table, my feet propped on a chair.

I picked up the black receiver. "Wedding Central," I said. I expected the phone to ring off the hook all day.

"Is it bad luck for the groom to talk to the bride before the wedding?" Chris asked.

"Most definitely not. Good morning, husband-to-be. We're getting married tonight!"

"Thank goodness. I couldn't stand this madhouse much longer. You shook things up in Green when you took over the paper and moved down the road from me, but that was nothing compared to this wedding."

"I'll rescue you in twelve hours," I said. "Are things crazy at your parents' house?"

"That's putting it mildly. Daddy says the shirt he's supposed to wear is too tight around the neck, and Mama told him he would go without a tie over her dead body."

"Like father, like son."

"To top it off, Mannix won't stop barking. Maybe we should have left all the dogs on your porch till after the wedding."

"Are you kidding?" I asked. "I wish I had sent Holly Beth over there. She wiggled all night."

"That wouldn't be a problem if you didn't let her sleep with you," Chris said. "Maybe Daddy can break her of that while we're on our trip."

"We'll see. They'll get her right after the service, right?"

"We'll be fortunate if Daddy stays through the reception.They have the world's largest box of dog bones and a rope toy for her."

My future mother-in-law's voice could be heard in the background, and she sounded agitated. One of Miss Estelle's worst habits was carrying on a conversation with you while you were on the phone with someone else. According to Chris and his brothers, she had done it for years.

"Wait a sec, Lois. Mama's saying something."

I stretched the phone cord over to the far counter and poured breakfast for Holly, freshened her water, and patted her gently. I was going to miss the silly little thing.

"Mama's updating me on the weather. She's been glued to the television since the rehearsal dinner last night. Did your brother have to mention the possibility of rain?"

"We're a pushy sort of family, in case you haven't noticed.He wanted to make sure everyone brought umbrellas."

"Pushy or not, it's great they're here for the wedding," my groom said. "I'm glad they approve of me, because there's no way I'm not marrying you."

"After all these years of me being single, my brothers probably would have approved of that donkey down the road."

"Oh, that's a real compliment." He laughed.

"They had begun to tell their kids to take care of me in my old age."

"I'll take care of you, baby. I keep reminding myself that no matter how crazy today gets, tomorrow morning we'll be on our way to Montana."

"Husband and wife," I said. "Alone at last."

"I'd better go talk Mama down off the ledge. She's worried about a thunderstorm warning." His voice got softer. "I can't wait to see you tonight."

"I'll be the one in the long white dress."

The phone rang again before I got out for a morning walk, a sentimental stroll I planned to take on Route Two.

"Is this Lois Barker, bride-to-be?" My best friend Marti's voice came in loud and clear, despite being halfway across the world.

"Marti, I'm getting married! It's happening!"

"Oh, Lois, I should be there with you, wearing an ugly dress and throwing rice in your hair." She sounded as though she were about to cry.

"You're right where you are supposed to be. Remember our deal? You and Gary will visit in the summer, when it's hot and humid and we're all settled. You can see my new collection of catfish memorabilia."

My best friend, newly married to a seminary student in Dayton, had booked tickets for a spring mission trip to the Congo shortly before my engagement. Marti had been devastated when I told her the wedding date, trying to bail out of the trip or to convince me to reschedule.

"Is it nice there today?" she asked.

"It's dazzling. A classic spring day."

"Have a wonderful time tonight," she said, "and don't fret about anything. It's your day, dear friend. Love you."

"Love you, too. I'll e-mail Tammy's photos in a week or so. She's gotten so good that you're not going to believe your eyes."

My brother had been right, darn it. It was going to rain, but maybe it would hold off until after the ceremony. Clouds had gathered in the west, but it was a spring day to savor. A steady breeze blew, and the air cooled off by the hour.

I strolled through my house and around my yard for the last time as a single woman, holding Holly close. I picked the first bloom off the unusual pink dogwood tree in the front yard and put it in my journal, stacking two books on top of it. It'd be a sweet reminder when we got back. I loaded my honeymoon suitcase into my little car and grabbed the box with my new shoes.

I stroked Holly and put her in her crate with her favorite blanket. "Mr. Hugh will be here to get you in a little while," I said. "You be a sweet girl while I'm gone."

I didn't even like animals. Or so I thought. I could barely stand to leave her, even though I knew she'd get as much attention as a child at my in-laws' house.

In-laws? How strange that sounded.

My heart sped up as I pulled into the Grace Community parking lot, between the church and Pastor Jean's house, nervous all of a sudden, and then laughed at the church sign, which usually had a catchy slogan that Jean found online.Today it said, "CONGRATS, Lois & Chris!"

Kevin and Jean waited by the side door of the church, big smiles on their faces when I drove up. Kevin, my best friend in Green, hummed "Here Comes the Bride."

"You barely missed your reception volunteers," Jean said."They've got everything set up and have run home to get dressed."

The wind gusted when I opened my car door, and it nearly snatched my suitcase from Jean's hands. "Don't chip those nails," Kevin said when I closed the trunk. "Watch your hair. I don't want it all tangled when I put it up."

"Where did that wind come from?" I asked. "It was beautiful an hour ago."

"An ordinary spring storm," Jean said. "Happens every year in Louisiana."

"Spring storm? Those clouds look like something out of a horror movie."

"You'll think 'fairy tale' when you see the church," Kevin said. "Let's get inside before the rain starts."

I started toward the side door, but they steered me to the front. "Close your eyes." Jean grabbed my arm.

I walked cautiously up the steps and into the minuscule foyer.

"Look what your friends have been up to this afternoon," Jean said. Kevin pulled me further into the church.

A profusion of spring flowers in pinks and whites greeted me. Each window had a small glass vase with ivy from the woods nearby and small bouquets of tulips and bridal wreath.Antique candelabras stood on each side at the front, ivory tapers waiting to be lit. A banner hung to the side with dogwood blossoms appliquéd on it. "And the two shall become one," it read.

"Who?" I asked, too overcome to say more.

"The church women mostly brought flowers from their yards," Kevin said. "Becca from the flower shop made sure it was natural, just like you wanted."

"Iris and her small group made the quilt," Jean said. The previous banner had been hung after the death of Iris Jo's teenage son, Matt, in a car accident. "Iris said it was time to change."

"Now it's time to change
you
before everyone gets here," Kevin said. "We've got to get that hair done, and Barbara brought your dress by earlier. It's more beautiful than I remembered.I didn't know she designed it herself."

My cranky advertiser had been insulted when I asked to order a dress at her shop. "Order, my hind leg," she snorted."I'm going to sew you a dress."

With visions of double-knit and support stockings, I gave my best newspaper-owner resistance, to no avail. "Give me one shot at it," she said. "I've been sewing party dresses for years, so I don't see why I can't make a wedding gown."

I gulped and said OK.

The dress was stunning.

Using Jean's office as the bridal parlor, Kevin carefully brushed my hair, pulling a small section back with wispy dark curls around my face and spraying it extra stiff. "We can't have it blowing out of place when you leave the church," she said.Then she added blush, which I tried to wipe off. "You're keyed up," Kevin said. "Stand still. You don't want to look pale."

Kevin and Jean—friends, supporters, physician, pastor— slipped the wedding gown over my hair. The elegant fabric slid coolly down my body, the strapless bodice covered in lace, the skirt flowing slightly. Jean carefully placed the veil in my hair, and I tearfully asked Kevin to fasten my mother's pearls around my neck.

Katy and Molly burst in, both wearing pale pink dresses in different styles, eager to assume their places as ushers and to voice their opinions on every topic that came up.

"Wow," Katy said. "You're going to blow Chris away. That dress looks like one you'd order from New York, not downtown Green."

A piercing whistle signaled the arrival of my wedding photographer.Tammy snapped pictures as she walked in, pausing to whistle again. "Fabuloso dress. You clean up real good."