“Maybe it was a mistake to have them as attendants,” Will said.
“I think so,” Gertrude replied. “Too many hard feelings. It could mean trouble.”
But Will wanted to bring them together, help patch the family woes. He didn’t expect trouble, not today, not at his wedding. But he hoped they wouldn’t be late. He wanted May 20, 1915, to be a new beginning for everyone in his family.
Charlie and Esther Nesbitt, longtime friends of Thomas and Gertrude, arrived early. Charlie hollered down from his buggy. “Hey, Will. So you’re going through with it? Giving up the best years of your life.” He winked at Esther, but turned back to Will. “Where’s Thomas? I wanted to ask about the plow I bought at May’s auction. Can’t get it to scour.”
“Did you steep the angle?”
“I tried everything. Thought Thomas might know.”
“Dad’s not back yet. He went to Hinton for Mary’s mother.” Will scratched the mare’s nose. “Left early, should be back soon.”
Charlie snapped the rein and clicked his tongue. His horse surged forward.
Will stepped away. “You don’t seem to be the worse for marriage, Charlie. Of course, Esther may not see it that way.”
“Whoa, Nellie.” Charlie glanced toward Esther who grinned down on Will.
“I can’t say that it’s done him much good,” she said. “But I’ll not complain.”
Charlie tapped Esther with his elbow and winked in her direction. “You didn’t know me when I was young. We’ll talk on it later, Will.”
Charlie and Esther were the best testament for marriage that Will knew.
“Is it okay to put my horse in a stall?” Charlie said.
“Dad got it ready before he left. The bedding’s down and fresh hay in the manger.”
Charlie flipped the reins and turned toward the barn. “Get along, Nellie.”
Will yelled after him, “Hey, Charlie, have you thought about trading that nag for a horseless carriage? I’ll give you a deal on a Lizzie.”
Charlie stepped off his buggy and opened the barn door, but he didn’t look back.
The ceremony was set for three o’clock, and afterwards a full meal was to be served on the sunny side of the house. Chicken and ham sandwiches, milk, coffee, and lemonade were available in the kitchen all day, but his mother grabbed Will by the ear when he stepped through the door. “You stay out of here.”
“You want me to starve? And on my wedding day?”
“No further than the kitchen. Bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”
After they unhitched their horses, the older men headed toward the hayloft, while their wives helped prepare food and decorate tables on the back lawn. Will’s young friends weren’t likely to show until just before the ceremony. With nothing else to do, he headed toward the older crowd. Charlie Nesbitt and half a dozen friends of Will’s father passed a bottle while they lounged on feed bags in the loft.
“Will O’Shaughnessy,” Silas Murrish, his father’s favorite drinking buddy, called down to Will as he started up the ramp. “I remember the day you slipped and tumbled head over heels down that incline. Why, you couldn’t have been more than three year’s old, but you didn’t cry, not one tear.”
“He’ll shed tears now,” Dennis Newberry said. “Once she’s hooked that ring in your nose.” He spat a mouthful of tobacco juice into the hay. “Your life’ll never be the same.” Dennis removed a pack of Red Man from his vest pocket, dug out a chaw, and placed it under his lip. “’Fraid you’re hooked, fella. ’Bout to be fried.”
“He’ll fry, okay,” Rich Turner said.
The men laughed.
“Like that frog in the cooker when they turned up the heat,” Silas Murrish said. “He smiles all the way to the hereafter. But what a way to go.”
“Now don’t be scaring the boy,” Charlie Nesbitt said. “Will, you’ve got a bit to learn but a good woman to teach you. I hope you’re as lucky as I am.”
“Esther’s a good woman, all right,” Rich said. “You better keep a leash on her.”
“Must be selling lots of Lizzies these days,” Dennis said. “Sure lucked out when Grandpa snatched that farm away.”
“I’ll farm again, make no mistake about that. I won’t sell Lizzies forever.”
“You’ll make too much money to leave for the farm,” Dennis said.
Will stood and faced Dennis. “I tell you, I’ll have my own farm someday. Just you wait and see.”
“Money rules.” Dennis snorted, a derisive laugh. “Besides, I doubt you could lift a full sack anymore.”
Will reached toward Dennis, his elbow cocked and hand at ready to arm wrestle. “Try me.”
“Hey, fellows, thought I’d find you up here, yes I did,” Thomas O’Shaughnessy called as he scrambled up the ramp to the loft. “You don’t have anything to warm the innards, now do you?” He rubbed his hands together and shuddered. “It’s kinda cool for late May, ’tis. I hardly saw the sun all along the Hinton road.”
Silas tossed the bottle in his direction, and Thomas snatched it from the air.
“Don’t remember you being that handy with a kitten ball,” Silas said.
“No loss there.” He turned the bottle in his hands. “Old Crow? Shoulda dropped it.” He tilted the bottle and frowned. “I expected a good Irish whiskey.” Thomas took another mouthful, grimaced, and passed the bottle to Charlie. “S’pose I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“Hey, Thomas? Will? You up there?” a voice called from below.
“In the loft,” Will shouted back.
A small man shielded his eyes as he came in from the sunlight. “Thomas, did I see you unloading a cake when I drove up?” Bert Whitford said. “Biggest durn wedding cake I’ve ever seen.”
“Will’s new mother-in-law made that cake,” Thomas said. ”I brought her up from Hinton.”
“Say,” Whitford said, “when I drove through town I saw Jesse leaving Bennie’s Bar. I hope you’re not expecting him. He’s not in any condition for a wedding.”
Will’s heart sank. Maybe his mother was right.
“Thomas, Will, come down here,” Gertrude O’Shaughnessy called from below. “Frank and Jesse aren’t here yet, and I need help getting the tables out so the ladies can decorate them.”
“Come on, Will,” Thomas said. He brushed the dust off as he got up from the feed sack. “I guess the fun’s over.” He tossed the empty bottle to Silas and started toward the open doors, but before he stepped onto the ramp, he turned back. “Look on the ledge back of the chute, Silas. You’ll find a bottle of real whiskey there.”
They rushed after Gertrude, who proclaimed their marching orders every step of the way.
When Gertrude reached the kitchen door, she turned back to Will and Thomas, who had followed her. She grabbed Will’s arm when he tried to dodge around her. “And don’t you go peeking in the back parlor.” She hustled through the opening and slammed the door behind, but reopened it a crack and hollered out. “And when you’re done with the tables, get the chairs out. But wash them before you set them up.” Before she closed the door, she hollered once more, “And when that’s done, I’ve got other things.”
Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow. “That woman’ll be the death of me yet.”
By the time they got through Gertrude’s to-do list, Will began to feel panicky. Where were Frank and Jesse? Maybe he would be better off without Jesse, but it wasn’t like Frank to be late.
“Will, Thomas, you’d better get dressed for the ceremony,” Gertrude called from the kitchen door. “I’ve hung your suits in my upstairs bedroom. You can dress up there. But go up the back stairs, and don’t look into the parlor, Will.”
Will motioned to his father. “Come along. I don’t want to be late for my own wedding. What’ll I do if Frank and Jesse don’t show?”
“I asked Charlie Nesbitt to stand in. Thought we better be prepared. He’s done it lots of times. Frank should be here though. It’s not like him.”
Will took a white, ruffled, starched shirt from the hanger and grabbed the pair of cuff links that his mother set on the dresser. After donning his shirt, he fumbled with the links. First, a cuff slipped from his fingers when he tried to hold them together. Then, as he held the cuff between his fourth and little finger and tried to manipulate the link with his thumb and index finger, the fastener snapped shut, and he couldn’t fit it through the hole. He released the cuffs and used both hands to open the cuff link, but it slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor when he pulled the cuffs back together.
“Whatever Frenchman invented this shirt should be taken out and shot,” Will said. “It’s worse than threading a needle.”
Thomas reached for the link. “Give me that.” He turned the link in his fingers and rubbed the pearl inset. “Pretty. With these links and that starched, ruffled shirt, you look like a dandy I saw in a New Orleans bor — ” He turned crimson, stifled a cough, and grabbed at Will. “Give me your arm.”
Will finished dressing and looked in the mirror. With his tan, pinstriped suit, starched shirt, print tie, and polished brown boots, he looked okay. He felt uncomfortable as a pig in a boudoir, but looked pretty good. He held his arm up to where he could see the outer sleeve and link in the mirror. Nice. Maybe he could be stylish like his young wife, after all. He hoped she’d be proud of him.
“Frank’s here,” his mother called up the stairs. “He said he passed Jesse on the way. His wheel seized up, and Jesse was unhitching his horse. Frank said Jesse didn’t look too steady on his legs.”
“Didn’t Frank offer a ride?” Thomas said.
“He offered but Jesse refused,” Gertrude said.
Thomas, now dressed in his old gray suit, started down the stairs.
Will slowly turned in front of the mirror and looked himself over one more time. Nice. Fashionable wasn’t so bad.
Jesse rode his dad’s dapple gray workhorse into the yard minutes before the accordionist began “Here Comes the Bride.” Thomas pulled Jesse off the horse and called at Charlie Nesbitt. “Looks like you won’t be standin’ in today. The groomsman is here. Sort of.”
Thomas guided Jesse toward the wedding party. “Jesse, straighten up. Do you need some coffee?”
Jesse pushed his father away and staggered toward Will and Frank who, along with Mary’s best friends, Jean Harvey and Penny Singleton, stood in front of Reverend Leonard.
Will wanted to protest, but he didn’t want to attract attention, so he bit hard on his lower lip. Then the music began and Will forgot about Jesse. His eyes turned to Mary who strolled down a path that her friends had strewn with rose petals. Mary’s father long gone, her older brother, Nicholas, gripped her arm.
Nicholas Tregonning was thought to be America’s leading gold mining authority. European royalty and the wealthy employed him when they wanted expert advice. He left Europe ahead of his planned schedule so that he could fill in for his absent father.
Will’s heart fluttered and his legs grew weak when he looked up at Mary. Her golden brown hair was pinned in a bun at the back, and it swept over her left eye in the front. Her white gown brushed the rose petals aside as she strolled toward him. The sweetheart neckline, lace bodice, and fitted silk skirt with ruffled trim accentuated a figure that Will already believed was the most tempting in Iowa County. How could he deserve such a beauty?
The music stopped and the minister said, “Who gives this woman in marriage?”
Nicholas Tregonning said, “I, her adoring brother, offer this woman in marriage.”
Will stepped ahead and took Mary’s arm, but as he looked up, he saw Jesse sway side to side, step forward, teeter back, and then regain his balance.
When Reverend Leonard called for the ring, Frank handed it to him. Jesse rocked but held his ground. But when Jean Harvey, the maid of honor, approached the reverend with Mary’s ring, Will thought that Jesse was going to envelop her when he listed severely in her direction. Will knew that Jesse had been fond of Jean since grade school, but she had better prospects.
Reverend Leonard called the bride and groom forward, had them place the rings on their fingers, and proclaimed, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”
With his new bride beside him, Will heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing except his love for Mary. He reached and pulled her close, looked into her eyes, and lowered his mouth to hers. They kissed passionately, kissed long, kissed until he was jolted back to reality by applause and Jesse’s slaps on his back, which stung. “You did it, Will,” he said, slurring. He leered at Mary. “Now comes the fun part.”
Will grabbed Mary’s arm, pivoted away from his brother, and walked his bride up the path, through sunlight which immersed them when it slipped out from behind a cloud.
The crowd surged toward the party. Ladies circulated among the tables with pitchers of hot coffee, milk, and cold lemonade. They placed platters of pot roast surrounded by cooked carrots, browned potatoes, and boiled onions at the tables’ ends. Bowls of fresh asparagus, snap peas, and last fall’s creamed-corn and pole-beans filled empty spaces along the tables’ interiors. And because no room was available on the big table, cherry, apple, rhubarb, and mincemeat pies filled a smaller table standing to the side. “Dish up your own pie when you’re ready,” Agnes Whitford called over the din. “And don’t leave before we cut the cake. You’ll not want to miss that.”
The cake was something to behold. Will stared in amazement. If you tallied the bride and groom figurine on top, his mother-in-law had built it almost as tall as her daughter. White sculpted frosting draped like bunting around its perimeter, and was covered with mauve, red, and yellow roses, which looked so real that Will was certain he could smell their fragrance. And on the top tier, around the figurine, Mary’s mother, Mary Tregonning, had written in yellow frosting script, “To my beloved Mary and Will. May they live a long and happy life together.”
Mary Tregonning stood before Will’s friends and neighbors. “Being from Hinton, I’ve not known most of you, but if you’re Will’s friends, you’re my friends, too. I wanted to do something nice for his family and friends, so I made this cake.” She fingered her apron and turned a bit red. “It kinda got outa hand.”
The crowd laughed and Charlie Nesbitt said, “I’ve never seen one like it. It’s way too pretty to eat.”
“Well, it’s for the eatin’,” Mary Tregonning said. “And Gertrude asked me to cut the first piece for the bride and groom. So I’m ’bout to do that.” She deftly wielded her knife and sliced one piece off the bottom tier, then placed it on a plate. She set the plate in front of Will and Mary and handed each a fork. “Now eat a forkful together.”
And when they took cake in their mouths, Mary Tregonning said, “May your life together be as sweet as the cake you eat today.”
Women cried and the men looked sober.
“Gertrude O’Shaughnessy will cut the rest of the cake, but the next pieces go to the Reverend and the attendants, then the ladies will bring yours ’round to your table.”
Gertrude stepped forward and, without a word, cut into the cake. She handed the first slice to Reverend Leonard. The next slices went to the bridesmaids and then one to Frank and Nicholas. But as Frank walked away from the table, Jesse snatched the plate from his hand.
“Hey, give that back,” Frank called after him. He looked over his shoulder at the cake that loomed large behind him and snickered. “Afraid there won’t be enough? Go get your own.” He grabbed at the plate.
But Jesse jerked the dish away. “What’s the matter, Frank? Don’t like somethin’ of yours snatched from you?” He stepped around Frank but staggered as he neared Gertrude. When Frank grabbed for the dish again, Jesse stumbled, and fell face-first into that beautiful cake.