If my world were to cave in tomorrow, I would look back on all the pleasures, excitements, and worthwhilenesses I have been lucky enough to have had.
Audrey Hepburn
I thought about Bridget as I worked later that afternoon. I tried to imagine what she’d felt like as she walked down the aisle, bales of hay on either side. I tried to envision her joy as she and her new husband took their photos in the sunset. What a glorious day it must’ve been. What a glorious day I would soon have! In less than two weeks I would marry my best friend, the love of my life.
Brady.
My heart swelled as I thought about him. Though I missed seeing him at the office, our times together were even more special now. I could read the excitement in his eyes as he talked about his workouts and picked up on the fact that his knee seemed to be holding up well. Yes, everything was—as Mary Poppins would say—practically perfect in every way. Our wedding, our lives, our joys . . . they were all coming together in a blissful crescendo.
As I prepared to leave work later that afternoon, my phone rang. I answered it, surprised to hear my mother’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Katie?”
“Hey, Mama. Good to hear from you. What’s up?”
“You’re not going to believe it. You’re just not. And the timing is so terrible too.”
“Wait, believe what?” My pulse quickened. “Did something happen to Queenie?”
“No, honey. It’s the WOP-pers.”
Huh? “The WOP-pers? What about them?”
“You’re not going to believe it, but they’ve disbanded. They’re not praying together anymore.”
“What? That’s impossible.” I took a seat behind my desk. “The WOP-pers have been a prayer team since before the beginning of time.”
“I know, but not anymore. They had a huge falling out and have split into two groups. The one isn’t speaking to the other.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! I just talked to the sheriff, who heard it from the mayor, who heard it from Mr. Jacobs. He’s coaching Little League now, did you know? Anyway, Coach Jacobs said that Mrs. Willingham—you remember her, Katie? She’s the one with the prosthetic foot. Anyway, she told him that she ran into Bessie May at the gas station filling her SUV, and she asked for prayer for her son—Mrs. Willingham’s son, not Bessie May’s. I’m pretty sure Bessie May doesn’t have a son. So when Mrs. Willingham asked the WOP-pers to pray for her son’s ADD, Bessie May told her that the WOP-pers don’t pray together anymore.”
“I don’t believe it. What in the world happened? Please tell me this doesn’t have anything to do with Ophelia’s hair being orange or Bessie May’s fashion sense.”
“Not that I know of. Why?”
“Oh, never mind. What happened, Mama?”
“From what I understand, it all started in the fellowship hall at the Methodist church. They were taking prayer requests, and Prissy mentioned that she was about to have hemorrhoid surgery.”
“Ouch.”
“Right? So she asked for prayer. I believe her words were something along the lines of ‘I have pain in the . . . well, you know. We are talking about hemorrhoids here.’”
“O-okay.” Where this was going, I could not guess.
“That’s where things got complicated. Bessie May must’ve misunderstood her. Then again, she has needed a new hearing aid for ages. Everyone knows that. But Bessie May quoted back what Prissy said incorrectly. Instead of saying, ‘You have pain in the . . . you know,’ she blurted out, ‘Yes, we know, Prissy. You really are a pain in the . . . you know.’”
“Just a misunderstanding.”
“Yes, but the poop hit the fan, pardon the pun. Prissy got offended and said a few things she shouldn’t have. Bessie May countered. Then Ophelia got involved.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yeah, and then Queenie tried to get everyone calmed down, but I guess it didn’t work. So before anyone could even start praying, the whole group of ’em ended up on opposite sides of the room. Maybe not literally on opposite sides of the room, but you get my point. They never ushered up so much as one prayer. Prissy huffed off first, then Bessie May left, then the rest of ’em stormed off. All mad as hornets. Well, except Queenie, who swears she was so shocked she couldn’t remember how to pray.”
“Wow. Must’ve been really something to shock the prayer out of Queenie. She’s the best prayer warrior I know.”
“Now no one’s praying. Except maybe Florence Wilson, who was stuck in the fellowship hall for nearly five hours until Bessie May remembered she’d driven her there. Poor thing, still recovering from hip surgery. She couldn’t exactly walk home, and she doesn’t own a cell phone. If the good reverend hadn’t stopped by the church at the end of the day, she might still be sitting there.”
“That’s horrible. What a mess.”
“Mess doesn’t even begin to describe the chaos going on, and the men of the town are all caught up in it too. When he heard what happened, Prissy’s husband got rankled and confronted Bessie May’s husband at the Dairy Queen. So it’s not just the WOP-pers who are split down the middle, it’s their spouses too.”
“This is terrible.”
“More terrible than you know. The manager of the Dairy Queen called in the police. The whole place was turned into a police scene, and all because of Prissy’s pain in the . . . well, you know.”
“Heavens. I never pictured anything like this happening in Fairfield. Do you think they’ll all kiss and make up?”
“I sure hope so, and fast. I mean, the timing for all of this really stinks. Your wedding is coming up a week from Saturday, after all.”
“Right.” So much for insisting we get married in my hometown where everyone loved everyone. And so much for working on a strategy to convince Nadia that the folks in Fairfield were loving and neighborly. If she caught wind of this, she’d probably call the Gaylord Hotel and book the grand ballroom.
Okay, maybe not. Maybe she didn’t care as much about the town split as I did. But how could my own neighbors do this to me—and right before my wedding? Didn’t they realize things were stressful enough already?
I ended the call with Mama in a hurry. Something to do with Pop chasing her around the RV park. But her words stayed with me as I shut down my computer and prepared to leave for the day. In fact, I could hardly think of anything else, which totally messed up my dinner plans with Brady.
When he arrived at my house to pick me up, I couldn’t seem to focus on our event together. I could only think of Prissy. And Bessie May. And Ophelia. And the police. Had my hometown gone crazy?
Brady met me at the door with a broad smile on his face. He took one look at me and his brow wrinkled. “Katie? What’s happened?”
“Don’t ask. Ugh.” I leaned against the doorjamb and tried to gather strength.
“Is everyone okay?”
“Physically, yes. But we have a fiasco on our hands.”
“A fiasco?” Now he looked genuinely worried. “Something go wrong with the wedding planning?”
“Sort of. Only, not really.” I groaned and then ushered him into my living room. “I didn’t want to tell you, Brady, because it’s just so . . . dumb.”
“What’s dumb?” He plopped down onto the Herculon sofa and gazed up at me.
“The WOP-pers have disbanded.”
“No way.” He shifted his position on the sofa. “Did someone die or something?”
“I know, right? I would’ve guessed that would be the only thing to ever stop them. But it’s worse than that.” I paced the room, my nerves kicking in.
“Worse than someone dying?”
“Not really, but it’s bad. Very, very, very bad.”
He patted the sofa, a signal for me to join him. “Start at the beginning. Tell me everything.”
I groaned again as I took a seat on the itchy fabric. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.” He reached for my hand. “In the beginning . . .”
I sighed. “In the beginning, Prissy had hemorrhoids.”
Brady’s eyes widened. “Not at all how I pictured the story kicking off, but you’ve hooked me with a great opening line. Now, for the rest of the story.”
I told him, and within a minute or two he was laughing so hard he could barely talk. “Katie, that’s priceless. It’s a joke. It’s got to be. Your mom is pulling your leg.”
“She’s not. The police are involved.”
“The police? Why? Did they arrest Bessie May for disturbing the peace?”
“No, but the whole town is split down the middle, and less than two weeks before our wedding. And to make things worse—”
“Worse than the town being split down the middle?”
“To make things worse, I went off on a spiel at Alva and Eduardo’s wedding, telling your mom how sweet the town of Fairfield is. You know how skeptical she was about holding the wedding there.”
Brady slipped his arm over my shoulders. “She wasn’t skeptical about Fairfield. She just wanted me to have a great experience and thought the Gaylord would do the trick.”
“Well, maybe we should’ve gone with her idea. But how could I have known, Brady? I never dreamed the whole town would fall apart.”
“They haven’t fallen apart, Katie. C’mon now. That’s a little dramatic. Let’s go to dinner and forget about all of this.” He rose and gestured for me to join him. I couldn’t. Not without telling him the rest.
“Queenie says she’s forgotten how to pray.”
“Whoa.” He took a seat once more. “This is serious then.”
“Yeah. You know if Queenie’s troubled, it must be bad.”
He looked my way, eyes narrowed. “So, let me get this straight. We have less than two weeks to fix the town, have our wedding rehearsal, and then celebrate the biggest day of our lives.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Without my mom finding out.” He released a slow breath.
“Or anyone else from Cosmopolitan Bridal. I’d be devastated if the girls knew.”
“You don’t think Twiggy’s told Dahlia? Surely she’s already spreading the story around the shop.”
“Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Did your mom mention anything about the church?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you hear about churches splitting all the time. Do you think that will end up happening?”
“Surely not.” I bit my lip. Then again, many of the ladies were members of the Baptist church. I’d have to ask Crystal about that one.
Great. If the whole town was split down the middle, maybe we’d have to split the church down the middle too. Wouldn’t that be lovely. And while we were at it, we might as well split my heart down the middle, because that’s what would happen if we didn’t get this fixed—and quick!