The Wedding Chapel (15 page)

“It’s all the rain. I told him to pave that road out to his place, but
noooo
, he never listens.”

It rained a gully washer last night, thunder clapping, lightning flashing. Power went out for a good hour or two. But it didn’t bother Jimmy none. He just went to bed, the evening song of rain on the rooftop his favorite lullaby.

The sun glinted off a passing car windshield and Jimmy squinted through the brightness. Thunder in the night, but sunshine in the morning. Wasn’t that a metaphor of life?

The whole town looked washed. Clean. And the Cumberland flowed with gusto.

“Here you go.” Tina set two donuts in front of him. “One’s on me.” She freshened Jimmy’s coffee without asking and moved to the next table.

With a chuckle, Jimmy took a bite of his sweet breakfast. Tina was a good gal. She’d taken over after Ella died back in the early 2000s. She kept this place going like Ella would’ve wanted.

That tough ole broad survived the postwar construction boom, staying put when all the other businesses were bugging out and taking up residence in suburban strip malls and shopping plazas. Ella alone could be credited with keeping the center vein of Heart’s Bend pumping.

As for Jimmy, he’d been coming here for sixty-five years. He stored a lot of good conversations with Dad, the doc, and others within these walls.

“You’ll live to be a hundred.” Dr. Nick Applebaum tossed a manila envelope on the table, slid into the booth across from Jimmy, and waved to Tina, pointing to the spot in front of him. “Black coffee, please.”

“A hundred?” Jimmy emptied the envelope’s contents onto the table. “Have trouble getting out this morning, Nick? Was your drive washed out?”

“Don’t start with me.”

“I told you to pave the road back to your place.”

“Tina,” Nick said, reclining against the booth as the fifty-something redhead set a cup and saucer in front of him. “Tell me why I’ve been having coffee with this know-it-all for the last twenty-five years.”

“Don’t drag me into this.” Tina gave Jimmy a wink. “Besides, I agree with him. Pave that ole road, Doc.”

“Oh, I see where your loyalties lie.” Shaking his head, Nick leveled a spoonful of sugar into his coffee, then tapped the papers in front of Jimmy. “Your cholesterol is good, your blood pressure, sugar, heart. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the lab mixed up your blood work with that of a younger man.”

“All those TV dinners Dad fed me as a kid preserved my insides.” Jimmy reviewed the numbers that didn’t make a lick of sense, so he’d trust the doc’s word.

Nick sipped his coffee. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up. No need to resign yourself to the retirement home yet.”

“I’m going to die in my place, Nick. I’ve kept it up. Don’t see a need to move. I’ll hire a nurse to come in to change my diapers if I have to, but I’m staying put.”

“That so? Rumor is you’re selling your place. Heard Keith Niven talking something about it at church Wednesday night.”

“Did you now?” Big mouth. “He weren’t talking about the house.”

Nick regarded him over the rim of his coffee mug. “Selling some property?”

“I thought I might.”

“You hitting the skids? Running out of cash? Don’t know how, since you’ve worn the same shirt to breakfast since I can remember.”

“What?” Jimmy smoothed his hand down the front of his blue plaid snap button. “This ain’t more than ten years old.”

“Jim, buy a new shirt. What’s an old bachelor got to spend his money on?”

Jimmy squirmed under Doc’s honest observation. He’d tried not to imagine how the townsfolk saw him. An old bachelor, living alone in the house he grew up in. It might seem kind of sad to those on the outside. But he’d made his choices. He was used to the way things were, right or wrong, good or bad.

“I don’t need to spend money and I’m far from hitting the skids. This is just a square of land I don’t need no more.”

“With all the development going on around here, you should get a good price for it.”

“Well, it won’t be going to any development group. It’s got a right nice building on it.”

The doc made a face. “Buildings can be knocked down, Jim.”

“Not this one.” Selling his chapel was one thing, but destroying it was another. No, no, no, he’d never let someone knock it down. “So I’m in good health?” He slipped the papers back into the envelope and set them aside. “I was thinking of taking up golf. Seems like all the fellas are playing.”

“Come on down to the club. I’ll teach you—”

“Good, you’re still here.” Keith Niven beelined for the table, interrupted Doc, and slid in next to Jimmy, taking a bite out of his donut. “Coach, I’ve got great news.”

Jimmy made a face, raising his hand to flag down Tina. “Need another donut over here.” Then he glared at the interloper. “Keith, I’m having coffee with the doc.”

Jimmy arched his brow and tensed his jaw, trying to communicate without words.
Later
.

Discussing the chapel felt personal, though once it hit the market his secret would be out. Nevertheless, he didn’t feel like chatting in front of the doc. He was a clever man. And being as he was
Jimmy’s doctor and had seen him naked, Doc would not hesitate one wink to pry into his personal life.

“Of course you are. You always have coffee with the doc on Friday mornings,” Keith said, reaching for a napkin. “We listed the place online yesterday and
bam
, we’ve had over two dozen queries.”

“Well, fine. I’ll meet you at your office in an hour. How’s that?”

“We don’t have an hour. We need to move fast.” Keith smiled up at Tina as she set a fresh donut in front of Jimmy. “Could I get some coffee and a donut?”

“You sure can.” Tina slid Jimmy’s former donut in front of Keith before walking off.

Jimmy grinned at the doc.

“Listen, Coach, the pictures Lisa Marie took with her phone are okay, but we can do better. Didn’t you say you had a photographer coming?”

“Meeting her around ten.” Jimmy peeked at Nick, who was watching the whole thing rather amused.

“Perfect. Mind if I tag along?” Keith rubbed his hands as Tina set down his coffee. “Thank you, darling, you’re the love of my life.”

“Shall I tell your wife or shall you?”

Jimmy laughed. That Tina. She’d held on to more than Ella’s the last fifteen years. She’d held on to her spirit, her gumption. Raised three boys alone while working here as a waitress, then as owner. Just sent the last one off to college.

Keith slurped his coffee. “So, what about the photographer?”

“No, you can’t come. Don’t go posting a For Sale sign on the property until she does what she’s got to do.”

“Why not? You’re killing me here, Coach. I’m trying to make a sale, land us a pot of gold. Besides, it’s too late. Put up the sign last
night before the rain set in. Shew, that was something. Had my dog trembling like a reed.”

“What this about?” Nick asked.

“Doc,” Keith said. “You’ve not seen it? Ole Coach here has a wedding chapel tucked away up north off River Road. Like it was some kind of fairy-tale secret.”

So the truth was out, from Keith’s fat lips straight into the air they breathed. Doc scrunched up his sun-leathered expression.

“Is it a secret?”

Jimmy set his cup down with a clank on the Formica table. “I reckon it ain’t no more.”

“Anyway, I need to talk to this photographer. Get some better shots, show off the chapel’s charm.” Keith set his business card down, then threw a five on the table as he gulped the last of his coffee and reached for the bitten donut. “Don’t tell Lisa Marie, but she is one bad iPhone photographer. Yikes. Didn’t think it was possible. But, Coach, I’m counting on you. Have the photographer call me.” Keith slid out of the booth. “See you, Doc.”

“Not if I see you first.” Nick snickered into his coffee, hiding behind the white china, elbows on the table.

“Well, go on,” Jimmy said. “I can see you’re dying to ask.”

Doc sobered. “How long have I known you? Thirty years? You’ve never once mentioned owning a wedding chapel.”

“Well, now you know.”

“When? Where? I never heard of such a thing in Heart’s Bend.”

“Because there ain’t a wedding chapel in Heart’s Bend. There’s my chapel, on my land, and I happened to build it for a wedding.”

“Whose?”

Jimmy drummed his fingers on the table. Well, that was the million-dollar question. But the answers in his head didn’t form
easily into words. Because they required pieces of his heart. He shifted in his seat.

“Well?” Nick said.

Darn. This should be a piece of cake. He’d coached high school boys for crying out loud. Fought in Korea.

Jimmy cleared his throat. “Mine.” There, he’d said it, blunt, with no fuss.

Nick reared back, frowning. “Yours? You were married?”

“No, I didn’t get married. So, I’m selling.” Jimmy stared at his coffee, twisting his cup between his hands.

“You built it but never used it? When? How long ago?”

“A good while. Years.” Decades.

“More than thirty, I reckon, since you never mentioned it to me.”

Jimmy exhaled and sat back against the red vinyl booth. “Started it the summer of 1949, if you must know. I worked night and day on it ’cause I wanted four walls, a floor, and a roof by the time I proposed. I didn’t make it, but at least I had the walls.”

“You had a girl?” Nick couldn’t look more confounded.

Jimmy sipped his coffee. “Yep, I had a girl.”

“And this never came up? In all of our Fridays? In all of our conversations?”

“You never asked.”

“I’m asking now. Who was this girl who inspired you to build a wedding chapel?” Nick leaned forward on his elbows, his steely gaze locked on Jimmy.

Jimmy peered out the window. “I’m not sure I know where to start.”

“How about the beginning?”

“Better yet, how about the end?”

O
CTOBER
1954

He stood in the middle of the chapel, a gas can and sledgehammer in hand, his boots dusted with dirt from the floor.

Over his shoulder, the drifting sunlight warned him that time was running out.

Jimmy assessed the rafters, the walls, and formed a plan. The rafters would ignite easily enough. They were gray and dry from three years of exposure. But the walls? They’d need help. He couldn’t make a fire hot enough to burn limestone.

Jimmy settled the sledgehammer by his feet as he knelt down to loosen the cap on the can. The bitter fragrance of gasoline stung his nose and soured the perfume of fall in the air.

Standing, he drew a clean breath to clear his nostrils. Did he really want to destroy this place? Because if he did, his dream would
really
be over. And he’d never rebuild it.

Closing his eyes, Jimmy plowed through his feelings and examined whitewashed memories.

Before Korea, he’d brought Colette to the unfinished chapel to tell her he loved her—and that he’d been drafted. Over their heads in love, fueled by intense emotions, they did things that night, said things, made promises that didn’t last the length of boot camp.

When he came home from the war restless and angry, Dad, in all of his quiet wisdom, nudged Jimmy to enroll in school, take advantage of the GI bill. Get an education.

“You’ve earned it, Jim.”
Dad had started calling him Jim since he’d been a soldier.

Reaching down for the gas can, Jimmy scanned the unfinished chapel one last time. The idea to burn it down had hit him during dinner tonight.

Dad dished out pot roast while asking about college. How were
his classes? His professors? Did he make any new friends yet? Meet any suitable young ladies? And it occurred to him that as long as the wedding chapel still stood, Jimmy would never move on.

It had to go.
She
had rejected him. Now he would reject her.

About to douse the perimeter with gas, Jimmy patted his pockets for matches. Ah, he left them in the truck.

When he turned for the door, Peg Branson stood there with a young boy on her hip.

“She’s not coming back, Jimmy. You know that, don’t you?”

“You drove all the way out here to tell me that?”

She entered farther, her blue housedress swishing about her legs, her white sneakers no match for the layers of dirt on the chapel floor. Her clean cotton scent defied the odorous gasoline. The boy, about two, maybe three, clasped his hands around her neck.

“I was heading home from my mother-in-law’s when I saw you turn in here. I kept going but I couldn’t help it—I had to turn around.”

“To tell me your sister wasn’t coming back?” Her presence irritated him, but he shouldn’t be angry with her. It wasn’t her fault that Colette ran off with another man. At least Peg had the decency to tell him the truth.

“What are you going to do with the gasoline?”

“What do you think?”

“I’m guessing you intend to burn the place down.” The boy squirmed, struggling to get down.

“So you best be getting on home. It’s going to get hot and dangerous around here real quick.”

Peg lowered the boy to the floor. “Why you burning it down?” She took a slow turn, studying the rough build. “What is this place?”