Tucker noticed his mother just then. She stood at Molly’s side, weeping copiously. The handkerchief in her hand was so wet it was almost dripping. When she saw Tucker and Samantha, she let loose with a new flood and flapped the soaked cloth in front of her contorted face, making Tucker want to duck.
“Mom’s a little overcome with joy.” Hank came to stand at Tucker’s side, and as if by mutual but unspoken assent, they moved away to talk more privately. “All her kids, coming back to the Church.”
“All?”
“Yes, and it’s your fault.” Hank arched his dark eyebrows. “Why didn’t you marry a Baptist, or a Methodist, or an Episcopalian? Mom wouldn’t have gone on a campaign.” He cast an apologetic glance at Samantha. “No offense intended. You’re the perfect woman for Tucker. I just wish…Oh, never mind.”
“A campaign?” Tucker pressed. “Mom’s on a campaign?”
“To get us all back in church. Ever since you started taking instruction, she’s been a busy beaver, planting ideas in my wife’s head about how families should worship together.” Hank took off his hat and plucked a flask from inside the crown. After taking a drink, he offered it to Tucker. “Jim Beam. I’m not celebrating my brother’s marriage with bubbly.” He added hopefully, “Maybe I’ll get excommunicated before I start.”
Tucker was about to refuse when his wife plucked the flask from his brother’s hand, drew off the cap, and said, “Here’s mud in your eye.” Then she took an impressively large gulp, whistled in air, and said, “Not bad stuff.”
“You’d better watch out,” Hank cautioned. “The priest will see you.”
Samantha grinned. “You’re right. Hide it, quick. He’ll drink all the rest.”
Hank looked amazed. “You’re pulling my leg. Right?”
“Good grief, no. Haven’t you ever heard of Irish whiskey?”
Hank nodded. “Another question. What, exactly, does that toast mean? I’ve heard it all my life, but it’s never made a lick of sense.”
“Mud in your eye?” Samantha grinned. “It originated among horse racing jockeys. At the end of a race, the winning jockey would say, ‘Here’s mud in your eye,’ meaning that his horse’s rear hooves had just flung mud in his opponent’s eye. Not very gracious, but that’s how it started.”
“You’re phenomenal.” Eyes twinkling with mischief, Hank proffered the flask again. “Want another hit?”
“Don’t you dare.” Tucker pushed the flask away. “You will not get my wife drunk on my wedding day.”
“Good point.” Hank took another swig himself and then wandered off toward Father Mike, clearly bent on testing the waters of Catholicism with a little Jim Beam.
Tucker was still laughing when he and Samantha went to cut their wedding cake. After posing for pictures and hearing way too many toasts, they shared a piece of cake and were finally able to run toward Tucker’s waiting Dodge under a deluge of birdseed.
Before jumping into the truck, which had been covered with white graffiti and streamers of toilet paper, and with tin cans attached to the back bumper, Samantha turned to throw her bouquet. Clint, who just happened to be standing toward the front, got nailed dead center in the chest and instinctively caught the flowers.
“No way,” he said.
He was still saying, “No way,” when Tucker started the truck and drove off. Samantha scooted across the seat to snuggle up next to him. When Tucker looked down at her, she fairly glowed with happiness.
“You threw it at Clint on purpose,” he accused.
She giggled and shrugged. “Of course. I don’t know if there’s anything to the superstition. Believing in that kind of thing is against our religion. But who knows? It’s time for him to find someone. Maybe it’ll work.” She glanced at her watch. “We have three hours before our flight. We only need to be at our little Redmond airport thirty minutes in advance. How do you feel about stopping off at my place for something I need?”
Tucker really just wanted to be on their way, but he had a mother and sister and understood what a catastrophe it would be if she’d forgotten something she thought was important. Underwear, maybe, or mascara, or, God forbid, her own special shade of lipstick. Only she didn’t wear lipstick. Sending her a wondering look he said, “Sure, sweetheart. What do you need?”
“You,” she said softly. “Right now, as soon as possible. I absolutely need you. And I always will, for the rest of my life.”
Tucker almost drove off into a ditch.
Catherine Anderson, Sun Kissed
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