Abit
I still had loads of things to get straight before the wedding. Nigel was coming in on the train in the middle of the night, and I’d offered to pick him up. My other guests, besides Mama and Daddy, were just Della, Alex, Cleva, Duane, and Mary Lou, and they all knew what to do.
It was Fiona’s family I was fretting over. Her Auntie Chloe had already come down from Galax, and she wasn’t any trouble. But Fiona’s father, Quinn O’Donnell, and her sister, Elodie, had flown in from Ireland by way of New York and Asheville. Fiona had driven down there to fetch them. They’d all be staying in her apartment, thank heavens. I wanted to be a good host, but I wasn’t clear on how to treat them yet. Or how they’d take to me. I reckoned that was what was really bothering me.
When they drove up, at first I thought Fiona had let her father drive because I saw Fiona get out of the passenger side. That seemed strange. Then I took a closer look. Sure enough, it was the same red hair and freckles, but this person was about six years younger. Had to be Elodie. Next I noticed a white-headed feller struggling out of the backseat, where he’d been lying down. When he got straightened up, I sensed Mr. O’Donnell had lived a life on the rough side, though not one with a shortage of food. Fiona and I both coulda fit in a pair of his pants. But he had a jolly way about him and gave me a bear hug right off the bat.
There was one more guest on my list, at least Mama thought so. Little Andy. (I was still having trouble calling him Andrew.) When we first started planning the wedding, Mama told me she not only wanted me to invite him but she wanted him in the wedding.
“What?” I asked, “and stand in as my best boy?” She told me there was no call for that kinda lip. “Well, he’s not my little brother,” I said and headed out to my woodshop to get away from her and her crazy notions.
Come to find out, she’d invited him anyway. “Well, that’s fine Mama,” I told her one evening when all the wedding commotion was bearing down on me. “He can come and eat cake—in fact, I’d like to push his little weaselly face right into the wedding cake—but he’s not going to be in the wedding.”
That set her off crying. I went out to my woodshop again, that time to finish packing up my tools and all, getting ready for the move to my own place. I fumed about why I wasn’t enough, not even on my wedding day. She just had to have Andrew there. I went on like that for a while, throwing sandpaper and small stuff into boxes, when, as if the hand of Jesus reached down and rested on my shoulder, I felt done with that. I’d held that grudge long enough. I recalled how I used to mentor that kid; I even liked him. It wasn’t his fault Mama seemed to latch on to him in ways she never could with me. And I liked his spunk in changing his name and all. So Andrew was coming on Friday before the wedding and staying all weekend in my old room. And he didn’t need to worry about eating his wedding cake any way but with a fork.
Thank heavens all the wedding goings-on didn’t seem to ruffle Fiona. We’d been getting along fine and even taking time to practice our music together. My favorite new tune was something for just the two of us: “Liberty.” An old fiddle tune Fiona could play without even looking at the music, and I could follow along on my mandolin. I especially liked it because it sounded so merry, like a little bird singing. So many of those old fiddle tunes were mournful, but this one had such sweet notes. Took the edge offa all we had left to do.
We’d spent the better part of the next day moving the heavy stuff into our farmhouse. Including the table, which we set down near the front window. (I’ve always taken to looking outside during mealtime.) I didn’t want to think about how it came into being, but I couldn’t shake the memory of that day The Doctor showed up at my door. Fiona came over and hugged me. “I saw our initials, Rabbit, when I was polishing the table, getting it ready for our home.” She gave me a little peck on the cheek, and we went back to the truck for more.
After we’d emptied everything, she could tell something was still eating at me. I told her it was just the wedding commotion and Alex and too much family and I didn’t know what else. She went into what would be our bedroom after our honeymoon and came back holding something behind her back.
“I know you’ve picked up your suit and all, so you’re clothes are all ready for the wedding, right?” I nodded. “Well, I believe this will be just the accessory to set everything off.” She brought her arms forward and put that flowerdy hat of hers on my head, the same hat I’d borrowed the first day I’d met her, when I thought them con artists were after me. And just like that, I was back at the storytelling festival, reliving that day and how taken I was with her.
“Would you like to borrow it again?” she asked, fussing with the hat on my head to see which angle looked best. “We could add a veil so you could lift it when the preacher says we can kiss.” She started laughing at me, and before long, she was laughing with me.