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-Franny Ties the Knot-
Betty stood before the full-length mirror in her room Saturday, adjusting the neckline of her dress. The royal blue shift represented what her mother had deemed "appropriate attire" for her cousin Francine's wedding. Since she and Franny weren't terribly close, she'd not been asked to be an attendant. The dress was lovely, demurely made, and of good quality. She knew she looked good in it, with her hair sleeked into a low bun, and the coordinating jewelry and shoe's she'd donned.
But as she looked at her reflection, she couldn't ignore her red-rimmed eyes. No amount of makeup could hide them. She'd gone about her life for the past two days, unwilling to discuss or even acknowledge the pain she felt to anyone else. Whenever she was alone, she lay in bed and let the silent tears fall until they pooled in her ears and dampened her bedsheets.
She'd hurt Warner. He hadn't admitted to it there in the alleyway, but the pain had been all over his face. Her attempts at helping him had backfired spectacularly, and now, she'd ruined things with him. A month ago, she'd thought she was happy, thought her life was going just the way she wanted. Now that she'd spent time with Warner, gotten to know him, and seen how witty and charming he was, that illusion had been shattered.
"No time for lying around today." She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, speaking aloud in the silence of her room. "Cousin Franny is expecting us."
A knock sounded on the bedroom door, followed by her mother's admonishment. "Betty, come on. We need to get to the church before all the good seats are taken on the bride's side."
"I'll be out in a moment, Mama." Blowing out a breath, she grabbed her purse and opened the bedroom door.
Standing in the hallway, Myrtle smiled approvingly. "You look lovely." The smile faded as she looked into her daughter's eyes. "What's the matter, baby?"
She shook her head. "Nothing, Mama." She took a deep breath. "I'm just a little emotional. I can't believe Cousin Franny is getting married."
"Me either! You all have just grown up so fast." She squeezed her daughters arm. "One day soon, it'll be your turn, Elizabeth."
Plastering on a false smile, she nodded and followed her mother.
Arriving at the church, Betty sat with her mother and father about five rows back from the first pew on the left side of the church. She made small talk with her relatives seated nearby, until the pianist's music rose on the air, indicating the start of the ceremony.
Sitting there beside her mother, Betty watched the ceremony unfold. She felt a modicum of relief that she hadn't been forced to endure the indignity of wearing one of the swamp green, silk flower-laden bridesmaid's dresses. The levity was short lived. When her cousin Francine, on the arm of Uncle Phillip, floated down the aisle toward her groom, Betty couldn't help but see the joy on her face.
The vows were said, while Betty contemplated what marriage really meant. From the moment she'd received the wedding invitation in the mail, she'd been in a sort of mourning for her cousin. She didn't begrudge Franny her happiness; while they weren't very close, she loved her cousin. To her mind, marriage for women, especially black women, meant little more than a life of servitude. It meant a loss of freedom, a death to oneself and one's own interest in favor of keeping house and bearing children. Months ago, Betty had been positive that she didn't want that kind of life. That her love for music and for her existing family would be all she needed to sustain her.
The groom slipped a band of gold onto Francine's trembling hand.
Betty choked back a sob.
Myrtle patted her daughter's leg, simultaneously dabbing at her own damp eyes.
Everything has changed. Nothing is the way I thought it would be.
After believing for so long that marriage was a trap for women, an arrangement that only benefitted the man, she wasn't so sure anymore.
"You may now kiss your bride."
As soon as the minister made the declaration, the groom lifted Francine's veil. Betty saw the tears sparkling in her cousin's smiling eyes, and a moment later, her new husband took her into his arms and kissed her.
Tears ran unchecked down Betty's face as the crowd in the church roared with approval of the display. She wasn't the only woman in the room crying, and she doubted anyone would think her tears out of place. Only she knew the secret pain that fueled her tears. And that made her feel even worse.
In a room filled with joyful friends and family, in the midst of an exuberant celebration of love, she felt more alone than ever had before.
She joined with her parents and the other guests in showering the newlyweds with rice as they climbed into their chauffeured car, then rode with her parents to the reception hall a few miles away.
The interior of the reception hall had been festooned with green and cream fabric streamers, mimicking the colors worn by the wedding party. A crystal chandelier centering the room sparkled overhead, and the tables were dressed with beautiful arrangements of roses, mums and lamb's ear.
In the receiving line, Betty stopped to give Francine a tight hug. "You look beautiful, Franny. Congratulations." Despite her own conflicting emotions, she meant every word.
Francine smiled. "Thank you, cousin Betty." She glanced at her groom adoringly, as he picked up her hand and kissed it. "Clarence is the best thing to ever happen to me."
"Welcome to the family." Betty gave her new cousin a hug as well, then went to seek her place at one of the tables.
When she found her place card, she saw she was the first to arrive at the table. Sitting down, she spent a few moments watching the celebration happening all around her. The hired group of jazz musicians were playing a swinging tune, and she found herself tapping her foot to the rhythm.
She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find her mother standing behind her chair. "Yes, Mama?"
She pointed straight ahead. "Do you see that handsome gentleman there? The one in the black suit with the red tie?"
Searching a bit, Betty caught sight of the person her mother referred to. "Yes, I see him."
"That's Bradley Mangum. He's a fraternity brother of Clarence, the groom."
"I see." Honestly, she didn't. What is Mama getting at?
"I asked Franny to assign him to your table." Myrtle gave her shoulders a squeeze. "He's going to be a lawyer, and he's single!" She emphasized that last word, unable to contain her exuberance.
"Mama. Are you really matchmaking right now?"
"What better place than at a wedding?" She squeezed her shoulders again. "Oh, he's coming over. Be nice to him, Betty. You never know where it could lead." With a parting squeal of excitement, Myrtle made herself scarce.
Betty hazarded a glance in Bradley's direction and sighed. Sure enough, he was headed her way, and his focus was already on her.
When he came abreast of the table, he smiled, showing off two rows of even, pearly-white teeth. "You must be Elizabeth."
She nodded, doing her best to keep her wits about her. He was handsome, but she had absolutely no interest in speaking to him, or any man other than Warner.
"I'm Bradley Mangum. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss." He bowed low, lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed it.
"Likewise." She swallowed, hoping to rid herself of some of her annoyance. He seemed to be waiting for a further reaction from her, but that was all she had. I imagine women fall at his feet on a regular basis.
He stood again but maintained his hold on her hand. "Would you honor me with a dance?"
She heard the sound of someone clearing their throat and glanced over to see her mother nodding vigorously and flailing as if she were hailing an imaginary taxicab.
She looked back to Bradley. "Sure."
As he led her out onto the dance floor, she did her best to mind her manners. Yet, even as he spun her around the reception hall, her mind stayed locked on Warner.
***
-Stormy Weather-
A THUNDERSTORM ROLLED into Fox Den Saturday evening, bringing with it heavy rain and howling winds. Alone in his small house, Warner tucked himself into an armchair with a copy of the Fox Den Courier. Under the glow of the lamp, he read through the local happenings, doing his best to ignore the storm raging outside. Wrapped in an old quilt to ward off the chill that often fell over the house in bad weather, he shifted around, trying to get comfortable.
The old house seemed to rattle in the high winds, and he jumped. Unwrapping himself from the quilt, he walked over to the window to look outside. The nearby streetlight cast a circle of light, illuminating the otherwise inky darkness, letting him see the rain falling sideways and the puddles forming on the asphalt. He could also see the trees, their branches dancing and swaying in the wind.
Sighing, he returned to his chair. He was a full grown man, not a child afraid of storms. Yet, he still hated nights like this. The gloomy weather always seemed to inspire a similarly gloomy mood in him. He knew his best bet for enduring the weather was to get to sleep.
Standing by the chair, he folded his newspaper and dropped it on the low coffee table. Yawning, he made his way to his bedroom, hoping the falling rain would lull him to sleep. As tired as he was, he didn't think it would take very long.
Lying beneath the covers, he stared up at the ceiling, listening to the rain, waiting for rest to come.
As his eyes began to drift closed, a flash of lightning illuminated the room, followed by an angry boom of thunder.
The sound was so loud and so sudden he nearly fell out of bed. Clutching the mattress, he dragged himself into a sitting position.
Another boom followed.
His heart pounded.
It's only a thunderstorm, logic told him.
But the darkness lurking in the corners of his mind said otherwise.
His commander's voice. We're taking fire!
Panzer units surrounding us!
Anti-tank rounds!
Another boom.
He jumped, dragged the covers over his head.
Take cover!
Sweat poured down his face as he launched himself over the side of the bed and slid beneath it.
Dust swirled around him, and he sneezed.
BOOM!
The house shook.
In his mind, he was pinned down by enemy fire. He could hear the whistling sound of their artillery, cutting through the air, raining fiery, ghastly death down on his position.
He closed his eyes, squeezed them shut.
No. No. No!
A familiar scent touched his nostrils.
Lilacs.
He opened his eyes slowly. Felt the soft fabric of something against his face.
The sheets? No, that wasn't it. He fumbled in the darkness, taking in more of the smell with each breath.
Then he remembered.
Betty's perfume.
He hadn't been able to find the shirt he'd been wearing that day at the schoolyard, and had missed taking it to the laundry. I must have kicked it under the bed.
The sweet floral scent of her still clung to the fabric, and he grasped it, squeezing it between his fingers. Somehow, it helped him get his bearings, helped him ground himself in reality.
And for the first time in two days, he didn't push away the thoughts of her. He let the memory of her smile, her laugh, and her kiss swirl around him.
The storm raged on. Lightning flashed, thunder rumbled. Fat raindrops pelted the house like pebbles. The wind howled and hissed.
Yet thinking of her calmed him, took the edge off the painful memories of the horror he'd seen over there. Wriggling out from beneath his bed, he brought the shirt to his face and inhaled deeply. He continued breathing in her scent until the shaking in his limbs subsided and he felt more stable.
Then he climbed back into his bed, draping the shirt over the headboard.
It was possible she might never speak to him again. And that might be for the best.
But for tonight, as he closed his eyes, he hoped to dream of a life with her by his side. A life where they could live together in harmony, where her love would be the balm that helped to heal the wounds of his past.
Come morning, he would act, to bring her light back into his world. He would begin with a visit to her father’s office, where he would show his respect, and the integrity of his intentions.
Dr. Daniels and I will have much to discuss.
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