We find out the answer to Kate’s question later that afternoon as we sit in Pastor Grant’s office listening to how modern and broad-minded our parents are.
In the span of only a few hours, everything’s gone to Hell in a handbasket. Lillian told my parents about the fake baby while Kate and I were upstairs arguing, which resulted in a big, celebratory meal—and before we could even finish digesting it, Kate and I were marched to church.
Pastor Grant sits patiently behind his desk, pulling at his chin as our parents ramble on about the many liberal reasons we should push the wedding forward. They’ve assembled in attack formation in a semicircle of four chairs in front of the desk, while Kate and I follow the exchange from a bench on the sidelines.
“Of course, Pastor, we’re not prudes,” Lillian is saying. “Or old-fashioned. But it’d be preferable if the kids got married before the baby came. Life with a newborn can be difficult, and the last thing they’ll want on their plates is a wedding to organize. And if they got married now, they’d also have a chance at a real honeymoon, just the two of them. Although, Kate, you still haven’t told us how many weeks along you are. Will you be able to travel?”
“Not sure, Mom,” Kate says between gritted teeth.
“Well, we can figure that out, of course. And it would be better if they got married before the bump started to show. Pastor, you know how mean the gossip can get, especially in small towns. How soon can the ceremony take place?”
Pastor Grant leans his elbows on the table and scrutinizes the parents. “Are you sure a shotgun wedding is what your son and daughter want?”
“Shotgun wedding?” Mick says, offended. “No, no. This would be just a wedding. The kids have been together for so long, they’re in love, and we only want what’s best for them.”
“Yeah, you said that already,” Pastor Grant replies, visibly annoyed. As for me, I wished they’d stop calling us the kids. “Does the baby have a name?”
“Margot,” Lillian says happily. “It’s a girl.”
I raise an eyebrow at Kate, and she shrugs in a I-have-no-idea-where-that-came-from way.
“A baby girl,” the pastor says pensively. “A new life is always welcome in the community, and if Chuck and Kate wish to get married, there are a few formalities to complete. But I believe we can arrange it.”
“How soon?” my mom asks eagerly.
“Would next Friday work?” Lillian presses.
“Next Friday?” Kate asks, eyes bulging.
“Yes, Honeybun, imagine it! Getting married on New Year’s Eve; wouldn’t that be wonderful?” And without waiting for a reply, she turns back to the pastor. “Is a week long enough to execute all the formalities?”
“It should suffice,” Pastor Grant says. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with Kate and Chuck in private.”
The parents oblige and mumble a series of goodbyes as they shuffle out of the office.
“Thank you, Pastor.”
“See you tonight at the midnight mass.”
“Looking forward to your sermon.”
Lillian closes the door behind her, leaving me and Kate alone under the stern gaze of the pastor.
He gestures at the now-empty chairs before his desk, and we dutifully move into the direct line of fire.
“As I’m sure you know, getting married is not an endeavor to be taken lightly,” the pastor intones. “Marriage is not easy, and even couples who embark on this lifelong journey with the best of intentions might fall short. Yes, you’re about to become parents, but that can’t be the sole reason to make such a commitment. Baby Margot will be loved and cherished no matter your marital status. You shouldn’t let external pressures from your parents decide for you.”
We both nod, but neither of us speaks.
So the pastor continues with his lecture. “Now, before I can in good conscience bring you to the altar, we need to schedule at least one session of premarital counseling. With my other couples the course usually takes much longer, but, given the situation, I feel like we can cover the essential with a single meeting.”
Kate and I stare at each other, then back at Pastor Grant, at a loss for words.
“Has the cat eaten your tongues?” Pastor Grant asks.
“Err…” I clear my throat. “Pastor, what if we agreed with you, and weren’t sure getting married was the right choice for us? Would you help us tell our parents?”
His gaze turns even more severe. “Chuck, Kate, free will is every man or woman’s prerogative.” He lets his eyes rest on me, and then Kate. “But can I make a suggestion?”
We both nod, and Kate smiles hopefully, “Yes, please, Pastor.”
“If you want your parents to stop treating you like a couple of bratty children, then start behaving like the two adults you both are and tell them you don’t want to get married.”
“Ah.” Kate’s hopeful smile turns to a grimace. “So, when did you say you wanted to schedule our session?”
***
“Why did you have to make an actual appointment for a premarital course?” I ask, as we walk back to Kate’s house. “We both agree we’re not getting married, right?”
“Of course, not,” Kate scoffs. “But you know our mothers, they’re probably going to call the pastor to make sure everything is on schedule for Friday. If we’d confessed everything to Pastor Grant, he would’ve told them, and unless that’s how you wanted our parents to find out…”
“That might’ve actually been a good idea. Let the pastor do the dirty work while we sit back and watch.”
“You wishing we’d come clean in September as much as I am?”
“I don’t think it’s possible to wish any harder than I’ve been doing.”
We walk in silence for a few minutes, crunching our way through the fresh-fallen snow. Eventually, Kate speaks up again. “What do we do about the Chucokate?”
“The more I think about it the more I’m convinced the only way out is to hire professional actors to become the face of the campaign instead of us. Which means we need to talk to Josiane Masson and ask her if that’s likely to work as a marketing strategy.”
“Chuck, that’s genius. This way the launch would go ahead anyway, our parents wouldn’t lose the investment for the rebranding and the marketing campaign, and we’d be free.”
“It could really work if we managed to get Josiane on board. When is our next meeting with her? Is she staying for Christmas?”
“Chuck, do you ever listen to anything anyone tells you?”
“Yes, why?”
She rolls her eyes. “We have a photo shoot planned with her in,” Kate stares at her watch. “Oh, gosh, in an hour, and we were supposed to be home fifteen minutes ago for hair and makeup. Come on, let’s hurry.”
Kate grabs my hand and drags me forward, speeding up her pace.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” I say as I hurry after her. “But I’m not putting on makeup!”