Chapter Twenty-Seven
The interest Grace took in her new veterinarian had postponed any thoughts about the upcoming wedding. While Grace wanted to see her sister happily on her way in life with Mercer, she found wedding planning with Ellie tedious and a little on the ridiculous side. After all, Babe didn’t seem to care what went on, so why go to a lot of fuss?
She supposed there had been a time when she was a little girl where she’d looked with envy at wedding dresses and diamond engagement rings but somewhere after college that came to an end. One or two close encounters with men who had marriage on their mind had made her run the other direction. The brief living-in arrangement she’d tried while she was away from her family had not gone well. She felt smothered and anxious, trying to care for a man who really had no interest in caring for himself. While they had enjoyed socializing together and going out with friends, behind closed doors she found herself resentful of picking up someone else’s dirty laundry and cleaning a bathroom after a man who couldn’t even see his way clear to close the lid on the toilet. She wondered if she was just too difficult to get along with. Perhaps she expected too much of everyone, including herself.
She broached the subject in a late night conversation with Babe.
“Babe, I just wondered—how do you know this is going to work? I mean, I know you know Mercer, have known him for a long time, but aren’t you afraid . . . ” her voice faded. “Afraid he’ll drive me out of my mind?” Babe’s question was tinged with laughter.
“Well, no. I mean yes. I mean, God, Babe, what if he expects you to be his maid?” She hated asking, but there it was, Out on the table.
Babe was now having a good laugh at Grace’s expense.
“Gracie, do you know who does all the cooking when we are together?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “It’s Mercer. If he doesn’t feel like it, we take a ride the twenty miles into town to eat. Sometimes we do that two nights in a row, sometimes we don’t go into town for two or three weeks. Do you know who does the dishes? I do. But I don’t cook unless I want to. And when Greg eats with us, he does the dishes. ”
Grace tried to picture the deep-voiced Indian, Mercer's soon-to-be best man, who could have been a picture on a postcard for the Native Tribes, with a dishcloth in his hands.
“No.”
“Yes. Greg enjoys a home-cooked meal, no matter who fixes it and he’s been living alone a long time. Mercer figured out years ago that I would eat peanut butter and jelly every night if I’d been ranching all day. And he loves to cook.”
“But Babe, you are a great cook, I don’t get it.” She hated that she was making this argument. It sounded like she was defending what women had worked for almost a century to overcome. She was trying to slot Babe right back into that world of cooking, cleaning and bearing children.
“But it’s not important to me to do it all the time. It is to Mercer. And he doesn’t want anybody taking care of him.”
“Okay. So, who cleans the bathroom?”
Babe burst into laughter again. “He cleans his bathroom and I clean mine, Gracie. And when we get married, we’ll each still have our own bathroom! But Juanita, Greg’s cousin, will probably come once every two weeks or so to help out. She’s going to school at night and needs the money. I’m not proud, you know. I hate cleaning the bathroom and so does your future brother-in-law!”
Well, thought Grace, at least that was realistic. Babe knew her own weaknesses.
“Listen, Gracie. We’re different, Mercer and I. Mercer is—” the laughter was gone, replaced by serious reflection. “—in some ways, Mercer is everything I’m not. He’s patient. He listens. He doesn’t run head long into trouble. He isn’t unnerved by watching me break a horse. He doesn’t try to talk me out of living my life out here. He’s careful and he’s solid. I can count on him. I know he’ll always be there for me.” There was a silence. Grace wasn’t sure what else she could or should ask. Would Babe want to live with him the rest of her life? Would she grow tired of sleeping with the same man every day, seeing the same face? But it all seemed too personal to give speech to her thoughts.
“Did you know that Mercer writes poetry?”
Grace spluttered. “What?“
“Yes, Grace. There are some unusual things about him. He isn’t everything you see there. Still waters run deep.”
Babe was marrying a man that wrote poetry. Grace was stunned. Impetuous, wild, carefree Babe with sober, silent, poetic Mercer.
“We’ll have to work things out. I figure he’ll probably be a cover stealer in bed. And I know he snores. He rattled the windows on that camper we brought home with us a few weeks ago.” They laughed together.
“But, even with all that,” Babe went on, “there isn’t anybody else like him, Grace. Nobody.” She paused, “He’s the one who makes me watch the sunsets, Gracie. He makes me see what I would otherwise miss.”
The rehearsal dinner was held in the large community hall annex of the Woods Chapel. The local florist and several of her employees had descended on the church on December 23rd with a vengeance. Silver taper candles glowed in tiers in the windows, greenery and delicate pewter roses surrounded each arrangement. Refusing to bow to the fashion of long “head tables” overlooking the guests, making the bride and groom as unapproachable as royalty, Ellie brought in a large round table to seat all fourteen guests. A full-size Christmas tree formed from brilliant red poinsettias filled one corner of the room. Each place setting held an evergreen spray circling a heavy gold napkin and a pewter-colored rose. The bride and groom had given Darla Jinks the seating arrangement along with envelopes for each guest on thick, cream-colored paper, beautifully inscribed with each name, that were sealed and placed under the gold chargers, in waiting for the meal to begin. The smell of seared lamb and sirloin came from the large grills set up in the parking lot by Maury Gretz from the Draft House, who had been recruited to help the festivities along. Maury was sporting his signature handlebar mustache, but had donned a formal white shirt with black bowtie. The rolled shirtsleeves while he tended his grill somewhat diminished the effect of a grand chef, but still, he had made the effort, Grace thought.
Grace resisted the urge to dress too casually for the event, although Babe herself had sworn she would wear nothing but jeans after this “craziness was all over.” A berry-red sweater fell off her shoulders in folds, fitted at a waistline that the dreaded yoga kept reasonably narrow. For a woman approaching middle age at a sprint, she thought — or at least hoped — it was acceptable. A black crepe skirt, kick pleat showing more leg than one could allow in the office, accompanied the sweater along with peep-toe heels. It felt like she was going to a holiday party, she thought as she put simple diamond earrings in her ears. The earrings, a gift from the lazy live-in lover had been a costly inducement for her to continue to live with him. She had tried to return the expensive bribe, but the man had adopted a sniffling martyrdom, refusing to believe that Grace would never see him again. So the stones sat in her jewelry box while Grace tried to forget the whole sordid affair. She turned her head and looked at her reflection in the glass doors of the chapel. Evidently she was now over it and could enjoy the earrings, or at least wear them on occasion. It was fun to be out, to be with family, and to be part of Babe’s wedding. The smile on her face couldn’t be diminished by the shadow of an old lover.
Grace arrived early to meet the minister, Sherry Tingmeyer, who would perform the service. As she cruised the room and surveyed the place settings, Grace was pleased to see she had been seated beside Greg Ten Horse, Mercer’s best man. She had always liked Greg. His friendship with Mercer was easy to understand. He was quiet and a pleasure to have around. Greg was also very enjoyable to look at, even if he wasn’t quite her type. She moved down and around the table to see who Ellie had put on her other side, then blinked at the name on the place card. Gabriel McAllister. What was Gabriel McCallister doing at Babe’s rehearsal dinner? Her eyes narrowed. Granny Stillwell had mentioned two ushers who were “regular members of the congregation helping out.” She looked past Gabe’s assigned seat to the next one. Norman McCallister. Norm was here. Without Ed. That was odd. She had never seen the two apart. She found herself standing, arms folded, puzzling this out. Why did a small wedding of less than forty guests need ushers anyway? Granny Stillwell was up to something. She was sure of it.
The arrival of Sherry Tingmeyer interrupted her thoughts. Sherry had been a junior when Babe started college. Sherry had pulled Babe out of more scrapes than Grace could remember, but she did remember the late-night phone calls to Granny Stillwell’s house, full of explanations. Grace had gotten one of those calls herself when Babe had decided to attend a concert out-of-state in a battered pickup truck that didn’t make the 200 miles back home at 2:00 in the morning. Babe called Sherry for help. Sherry, afraid to bother Granny Stillwell yet again, had called Grace, who had wired money for the tow truck and searched out Ellie and Timothy. Ellie hadn’t appreciated having her date with Timothy interrupted, but as usual, the sisters had come to the rescue. While Ellie and Timothy went to escort a mournful Babe back to school, the next day Katy presented the lecture in person to their youngest sister. For four years Babe had run them all ragged and Sherry Tingmeyer had hung in there with the best of them.
Sherry was aging gracefully. She was a tall woman with warm brown eyes and an unaffected heartiness to her laugh. Sherry had always favored flashing bracelets and peasant skirts. Tonight she wore chandelier earrings of swaying pearls and gold from each ear, accenting ropes of small pearls down to her waist. Her skirt was a moss green suede, her sweater a soft taupe. Grace thought that if she had tried that outfit on it would have looked like she was dressing up for a sixties costume party. On Sherry Tingmeyer it was comfortable elegance. She hugged Grace and they walked into the chapel together.
“So here we are Gracie, at last! It’s going to be a fabulous wedding.” Sherry’s enthusiasm was infectious.
“I think it is, Sherry. They should be here anytime. How was the trip?”
“It was fantastic! No delays at the airport and I had no trouble finding a vicar to stand in for me while I presided over this momentous event!” Sherry had always loved big resounding words. “I would have put a million dollars on the success of this relationship four years ago, kiddo.” She put her arm through Grace’s and they walked down the narrow aisle to the altar. “What a glorious little church!”
Grace looked around. It was a glorious church. The narrow stained glass windows, now lit with candoliers for the Christmas celebration to come, were not of suffering saints or the Christ bearing a cross, but of doves flying, the lion lying down with the lamb and the animals arriving at the ark. John the Baptist lifted a man from the water into the sunlight in one narrow pane, and the open tomb of Easter morning, flooded with light, filled another window. They were not the grand old masterpieces of the German Catholics across town with which Grace was so familiar, but the visions of a hopeful, uplifted congregation. It was no wonder Granny Stillwell made her home in this chapel.
More poinsettias were arranged at the narrow altar, tightly clustered, alternating red and white along with sprays of evergreen and holly at each pew. A long crimson runner was rolled to one side, awaiting tomorrow’s morning wedding and Babe’s walk down the aisle.
“Time to get my things, Grace. Give me a hand, will you?” They walked to the parking lot beside the church to find cars filling the spaces. A black pickup with Montana plates pulled in beside Sherry’s rental car. Gregory Ten Horse was there, relief on his face at seeing Grace’s familiar face. He unfolded himself from the truck, a crisp white dress shirt and dark black suit pants were his nod to the celebration. Fine lines tracing lightly along his high, dark cheeks only added to the allure of the rugged brown face. His smile was broad as he approached her. He had pulled back his hair into a thick black braid, now shot with a line or two of grey. It fell heavily between his shoulders.
Grace, grinning, was pulled into a bear hug and was kissing Greg Ten Horse resoundingly on the cheek when she saw Gabriel McAllister appear in Norm’s big black Buick. Greg, for some reason, was extending his hug for what seemed a very long time and took that opportunity to slide a kiss across her lips. Grace nearly leapt across the parking lot in shock, but Greg’s grip was tight.
“Grace. How are you, Niokska?” He rumbled in her ear. She laughed at the name Greg had given her the first time she, Ellie and Katy had come to visit the Montana ranch. The mild-mannered Greg had found himself overwhelmed by the fast-talking Phillips women. Although the family resemblance was not so strong, as if he could not tell them apart he attached special names to each sister. While it rolled off his tongue like a pet name, Grace knew it was not so. Greg was indeed very practical, even if at the moment he was tucking a stray curl behind her ear and looking down at her as if he had never seen her before. And there was that kiss.
She ignored the decided strain of awkwardness as Norm approached to shake hands. Gabriel McCallister regarded her steadily, only glancing at Greg briefly. The tall Indian looked from Grace to Gabe and back again, as he was introduced. The only acknowledgement of his assessment was to move half a step closer to Grace and Sherry and give an unperturbed smile to Norm and Gabe. Sherry maneuvered behind Grace, now resisting the urge to belly laugh at the whole situation, Grace could tell. After the introductions and niceties were over Sherry had the good sense to hand her vestments to Gabe to carry into the chapel, with orders to look lively. She then shoved her bag at Greg and he followed them into the small church.
The rehearsal itself was filled with laughter. Babe cracked sarcastic comments one after the other at the beaming Mercer, who finally silenced her by picking her up bodily and making off with her down the aisle, once Sherry had finished explaining the vows and ring exchange to them. Babe’s laughter and shrieks quieted when she saw the beautiful table set by her sisters and the glowing candles of the nave.
“Oh, God, Merce. Look what they’ve done.” Grace saw her little sister’s eyes filled with tears. It wasn’t often you could catch Babe off guard.
“Oh, don’t be too touched, Babe, honey. Wait ‘til Mercer gets the bill from the florist for this.” Katy laughed with the rest of the troop but no one laughed harder than Mercer and Babe.
“Won’t be a problem, little Katy. Not at all.” Mercer commented between chuckles.
“Well, we hope not. We’re letting our sister marry you, you poor old ranch hand. You better take care of her or there will be trouble.” Ellie warned.
Babe began to laugh again. It was strikingly odd to Grace that the couple was nearly in hysterics over the talk about Mercer’s ability to provide. Maury appeared at that moment to ask them to seat themselves so that dinner could be served.
The evening was stranger than Grace had anticipated. Sherry asked them to hold hands in fellowship as she led them in prayer before the meal. Following the murmured amens around the table, however, neither Gabe nor Greg were willing to release her hand immediately. Grace saw the sidelong glances they exchanged as she was grasped firmly on the left and right. She seemed to be the prize in a contest of territory between these two men. It was puzzling, since Greg Ten Horse had only ever been friendly and cordial to her. More brotherly than anything else. She tried to focus her attention on Babe and Mercer. The evening should belong to them, after all. Mercer couldn’t stop smiling and laughed out loud when he saw Grace’s predicament as she sat ensconced between Greg and Gabe, both of whom were engaging her in conversation at the same time. Grace rolled her eyes at Mercer in exasperation.
Finally, when both men attempted to pull her chair out as she rose and excused herself, very nearly sending her tumbling to the floor, Norm quietly said, “Boys. I believe that’s about enough,” in a rumble too low for the rest of the table to hear. She escaped to the ladies' room to check her lipstick and let the situation cool down. There was enough testosterone in the room to drive any sane woman away, she thought. She returned to the table only to encounter them both waiting for her, each standing with a hand on her chair. Enough was enough.
She smiled and murmured in a low voice through clenched teeth. “Gentlemen, seriously?” Gabe and Greg moved away a fraction, allowing her to seat herself.
“My friend, it appears she doesn’t want our attention.” Greg’s eyes were twinkling.
“Pay attention, you two, Mercer is trying to say something.” Grace attempted to steer them to the matter at hand. Babe was tapping Mercer’s wine glass tentatively, afraid to break the crystal.
“Thank you all for coming. You’ll find a small token of our appreciation on the table. If you would just take those envelopes home to share with your families, we’d appreciate it. And thank you for being here. Babe and I wouldn’t have it any other way. We want you to know that—” he looked at Babe, who was blotting tears “—well, we really appreciate how darned lucky we are to have you all as friends.” Applause rose from the small table as Maury brought in slim, elegant slices of a dark chocolate cheesecake, a swirl of whipped cream and pool of raspberry sauce alongside.
Grace tucked the envelope bearing her name in lovely script carefully into her purse but felt a bump on one side. She ran her finger over it carefully. A key? What in the world did they want her to take care of while they were gone? Babe was watching her from across the room and looked directly at her, shaking her head slightly. So she was not to open it here. That message was clear from the look on Babe’s face. She raised her eyebrows at her younger sister and the shaking became more insistent. Grace tucked her purse back under her chair and raised a fork to the cheesecake, then put it back down. Cheesecake at a thousand calories a bite wasn’t worth the consequences of not being able to enjoy the wedding or Christmas dinner. Perhaps she’d just have a little more wine.
“No chocolate for you, Niokska?” Greg asked, making the nickname sound like a lover’s coo.
“No, I’m saving myself for Christmas dinner.”
“So, how long have you two known each other...uhm...Niokska?” Gabe’s tone was taunting.
“Five or six years, Greg? Isn’t it?” Grace sipped more wine. She’d be damned if she’d tell him what Niokska meant. Let him figure it out for himself.
“Oh, a lifetime of moons, as Grandfather would say.” Greg’s baritone was silky. Grace nearly choked on her wine. She had never heard Greg Ten Horse quote his grandfather other than to comment on the quantity of manure left in the paddock by a stallion once. The man was becoming positively seductive and she had no idea who had switched the heat on. Time to run interference before it got out of hand. Greg Ten Horse might be a beautiful man, but Grace had no desire to have a long-distance love in the wilds of Montana.
“Tell him what Niokska means, Greg.” Her voice was warm but amused.
Greg chuckled but stayed silent.
“You see,” she sighed and took up the reigns herself, “Greg met all of the sisters at once. That is, Katy, Ellie and I all stayed with Babe for a long weekend her first summer out in Montana. And Greg couldn’t tell us apart.”
Gabe laughed loud at this comment. “You are as different as night and day, Grace.”
“That wasn’t it, Niokska. I just couldn’t remember your names...and Niokska, it suits you.” Grace snorted. Greg was doing everything in his power, with the laughing black eyes and casual lifting of his hand to tuck a curl behind her ear, to lead Gabriel McAllister to believe they might well have been intimate. Of all things.
“Niokska is the Blackfoot word for the number three, Gabe.” Grace relented. “I’m the third sister.” She explained.
Gabe was still smiling, his gaze steady. He reached across her plate and took a forkful of the untouched cheesecake, taking a bite slowly, with relish, then pushing the fork toward her. “Just have a taste, Grace. Fantastic chocolate.” Grace licked the fork without thinking when he raised it to her lips. The temperature in the room rose ten degrees. She was suffocating between these two and had to escape.
“I, uh, just need to have a word with Sherry.” She stammered, but finally was away from the two hulks at the table. She backed up, willing herself not to scurry like a mouse eluding a trap. Greg and Gabe were eyeing each other like two gladiators ready to do combat. This was entirely too weird.
Sherry stood talking to Babe in the corner, going over the vows again with a nervous bride.
“Good grief, you two. Can I hide over here?” Grace scooted between them and plastered on another smile.
“Are they marking territory yet?” Sherry laughed. Both men were now turned, watching Grace like predators.
“What the hell—er, sorry Sherry—what the heck is the matter with Greg, Babe?” Babe was smiling too, relieved to be thinking about something other than the upcoming walk down the aisle.
“Too many winters without a warm woman, maybe?” Babe giggled.
“Oh, come on, Babe. He’s hardly sleeping in a teepee, after all. Greg has known me for years and has never shown any interest in me—WHAT are you laughing at?” Grace’s voice was becoming shrill. She dropped to a whisper. “What is going on here? I just met Gabe. And Greg has never even noticed me before.” Babe was now laughing so hard she was crying.
“Gracie, you are so dense sometimes. Greg has had a thing for you for years, girl.”
“WHAT?” Grace was astonished.
Babe nodded.
“She told me a while back. You didn’t even realize it, did you?” Sherry asked.
“No. I — are you sure?” It was a lightning bolt, that was for certain. The tall, dark, good-looking man could have any woman he picked. Grace slumped against the wall. It was all too much to take in. “There is no way.”
She looked at Greg carefully across the room. The look in his eye was of unquestionable intent. Her mouth dropped open. Babe’s giggling increased. Grace closed her mouth and swallowed, then glanced at Gabe. The warm smile was in place, but his jaw was set in a firm line and his eyes held the clear message of “Not if I get to you first, he won’t.” She raised her wine glass, giving herself the opportunity to close her eyes.
“I think I’m going to pass out.” Babe’s giggling had stopped to be replaced by strangled gasping noises. Babe was clearly hyperventilating. Katy and Ellie, who had nursed children through far worse, grabbed the bride and ushered her into the ladies' room.
“Somebody get a paper bag from Maury.” Ellie called over her shoulder. Grace saw opportunity and grabbed it. Shoving her wineglass at Sherry, she bolted.
Mercer finally banged on the bathroom door to regain his bride after fifteen minutes. Having resolved Babe’s hyperventilation, there were now peals of laughter from Katy and Ellie as they heard of Grace’s dilemma. That sent Babe back into the giggles and then back to breathing into the lunch bag while her face turned an amazing shade of red.
Grace slid between Ellie and Tim to walk to the car, unable to face either Gabe or Greg now that she realized she was considered fair game.
“Gracie, sometimes you are in your own little world. Everybody else realized this a long time ago.”
Timothy nodded his head solemnly.
“You, too? You knew this?” Grace was exasperated.
“Well, you are all dolled up, Gracie girl.” Her brother-in-law kissed her forehead affectionately as she unlocked her car. “Maybe that’s what brought Ten Horse out of hiding.” Timothy put his arm around her and hugged. “If they get to be too much you say the word. Okay? You can always call Ellie.””
Grace laughed. Thinking of Tim, hardly a slight man, but still willing to take on both Greg and Gabe to defend his sister-in-law’s honor. “Tim, I should have married you.”
Ellie gave a bark of laughter. “He snores, Grace and he doesn’t pick up his socks. It would drive you insane.” She looped her arm through her husband’s. “Besides, there aren’t any more like Tim.”
“No, you’re right about that.” She looked across the parking lot. Norm was unlocking the car while Gabe leaned against the car door, watching her. Greg leaned against Mercer’s rental car, talking through the window to his friend, but he also watched Grace as he spoke. “I’ll be lucky to get out of here tonight with my skin. Thanks, you two.” She hugged them both.
“See you at 7:00 am sharp, Gracie. Make sure you get plenty of sleep!” Timothy and Ellie laughed at a private joke. Grace rolled her eyes at them through her car window. Everybody was a comedian.