Including Alice

  Step … pause … step … pause. Margaret told me to memorize the exact spot where I should stand after I walked down the aisle ahead of Sylvia and to line myself up with a certain window on the other side of the sanctuary.

  “As soon as Sylvia reaches the altar,” Margaret said, “she’ll hand you her bouquet. But in case she forgets, you need to reach out and take it from her.”

  Step … pause … step … pause… . Don’t forget to smile… . Lift each foot so you don’t trip on your dress… . Take the bouquet… . The more rules Margaret gave me, the more nervous I became.

  I was glad when we were done at last, and we set off for the rehearsal dinner. Uncle Harold called and said that they had been delayed and that they’d decided to go right to the hotel and get Grandpa settled. And that’s where the dinner would be held.

  We pulled into the hotel parking lot and helped Nancy up the steps to the lobby, then on into the private dining room Dad had reserved for us.

  I’ll bet Queen Elizabeth wouldn’t have attracted more attention than Sylvia when she walked in that room, and Sylvia wasn’t even trying. She was wearing a green and gold dress, the two colors sort of melting into each other in flares about the skirt. She smiled at everyone in the room as Dad led her toward the Tennessee contingent of McKinleys on one side.

  Grandpa McKinley was sitting in his wheelchair, all spiffed up in a white shirt and freshly pressed trousers. His fingers were curled over the arms of the chair, and he looked confused at all the activity. I was waiting to hug my uncles and their wives, but Dad had got there first so I was left facing Grandpa.

  “Hi, Grandpa,” I said, stepping forward and kissing him on the cheek.

  He brightened and looked up at me. “Marie?” he said, seeming surprised.

  I was startled. Did I really look that much like my mom? I wondered.

  “No, I’m Alice. I’m her daughter,” I said. “Ben and Marie’s daughter.” He gets confused a lot. He looked at me hard, but then Dad and Sylvia came over.

  Dad leaned down and hugged him, then let Grandpa study his face. “I’m so glad you could come, Dad,” he said.

  “Durn long way up here. Hard on the legs,” Grandpa rasped.

  “I know, but it wouldn’t have been complete without you. Now I want you to meet Sylvia.”

  Sylvia knelt down so that Grandpa could see her face, and she took his hands in hers. “Hello, Mr. McKinley,” she said. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time.”

  “Why’s that?” he asked.

  “Because I’ve always wanted to meet the father of the man I’m going to marry,” Sylvia told him.

  “You’re going to marry Ben?”

  “Yes.” Sylvia fixed her blue eyes on him. We all held our breath. You just never know what Grandpa McKinley is going to say next.

  “Well, we’ll just see what Marie has to say about that!” was what he said.

  Everybody stopped talking and smiling and stared at Grandpa, then at Dad to see what he would do.

  Dad put his hand on Grandpa’s shoulder. “Dad, Marie died ten years ago. Do you remember?”

  “Why, that’s terrible!” said Grandpa, his face collapsing. His hands slipped off the arms of the wheelchair and lay helplessly in his lap. “Gladys and Marie and Charlie, all gone,” he said, remembering not only his wife and daughter-in-law, but his son Charlie, who had died a few years back. He seemed small and shrunken in his wheelchair.

  Sylvia didn’t even blink. “Ben told me that his mother was a beautiful woman,” she said.

  Grandpa began to smile.

  “And I’ll bet you made a handsome couple on your wedding day,” she went on.

  Grandpa leaned forward, and his eyes took on a mischievous look. “I was something of a dandy,” he whispered loudly. “They used to call me ‘the cat’s pajamas’!”

  We all laughed then, and Grandpa laughed with us.

  But there were aunts and uncles yet to introduce, as well as Sylvia’s sister. I saw Sylvia’s brother come in with his wife and Margaret, and then Aunt Sally and Uncle Milt, with Carol. Aunt Sally had not even met the woman who was taking my mom’s place.

  Carol and her dad were no problem. Carol greeted Sylvia and her sister as though they were long-lost sisters themselves, and Uncle Milt likes everybody. It was Aunt Sally who was having a hard time with the idea of Dad marrying again, I could tell.

  And how could she not? How could she welcome Dad’s new wife-to-be without thinking of her sister? Without remembering Mom and Dad’s wedding day and how she’d been the maid of honor that time? I saw her pause as she turned around and saw Sylvia. Noticed the way she swallowed when she saw Dad’s arm around Sylvia’s waist. But when Dad introduced them, Aunt Sally grasped Sylvia’s arms and studied her face. Then she said, “Ten years is a long time to grieve for someone, Sylvia. I’m Marie’s sister, and I’m glad that Ben has you.”

  I had promised to call Elizabeth and Pamela as soon as I got home and tell them all about the rehearsal dinner, but Pamela was out, so I just talked to Elizabeth.

  “I feel so ignorant!” I said. “I have no idea what my other duties are as maid of honor, and I wasn’t about to ask Margaret! She’s given me enough rules already.”

  “Oh, Alice,” she said. “That’s about the most important job there is! My aunt was a maid of honor last summer, and it took her a year to do all she was supposed to do.”

  “The wedding’s tomorrow, Elizabeth.”

  “That means you don’t have to give her a shower or anything, but I know for a fact that you’re supposed to be prepared for anything that might happen.”

  When did Elizabeth start sounding like Miss Manners? I wondered.

  “Well, we’ve already got a contingency plan in case Jim Sorringer shows up,” I said. “What else am I supposed to do?”

  “Your three biggest jobs are to hold her bouquet during the ceremony, pull back her veil so your dad can kiss her, and readjust her train when they turn to leave.”

  I tried to program them into my brain. Bouquet, I said to myself. Yes, we’d rehearsed that part. Pull back veil. Adjust train.

  “I think she decided not to have the veil over her face, and she told me that her dress doesn’t have a train,” I said, remembering.

  “Okay, then, but you’re supposed to carry every single thing Sylvia could possibly need for the entire day,” said Elizabeth.

  “Like what?” I asked, and envisioned myself coming down the aisle with a suitcase.

  “Tampons,” said Elizabeth.

  “She’s had a hysterectomy!” I reminded her.

  “Oh. Right. Well, you should have Kleenex, then. Lipstick, powder, safety pins, comb, barf bag—”

  “What?” I said.

  “It happens! My aunt heard of a bride who was so tired and nervous that when she got up to the altar, she puked all over the groom and the preacher.”

  “Elizabeth!”

  “I’m just telling you this for your own good.”

  I remembered how Sylvia had thrown up when she got off the plane coming back from England. It could happen!

  I was nervous enough thinking about holding the two bouquets. Now I was supposed to hold my bouquet, Sylvia’s bouquet, a purse filled with things for Sylvia, plus a full barf bag?

  “And then what would I do with it—the barf bag?” I asked incredulously.

  “Take it back up the aisle with you! You certainly don’t hand it to the minister!” said Elizabeth.

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “Well, I’ve got to go.”

  I hung up the phone and sat with my hand on it. Nancy had been all prepared to be Sylvia’s maid of honor. If anyone should know what my responsibilities were, she would. I dialed Sylvia’s number. Sylvia answered.

  “Well, hello, Alice,” she said.

  “I was wondering if I could talk to Nancy.”

  “Oh, she was really tired and went right to bed when we got home,” she said. There was a pause. “Can I help?”

  I
knew I wasn’t supposed to talk to Sylvia about this. You should never get a bride nervous the day before the wedding. “I … I just wanted to say how nice it was to meet her,” I said lamely.

  “I’m sure she feels the same way about you,” Sylvia said.

  “Well,” I said awkwardly. “Have a nice night.”

  “You too, Alice,” she said. “We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

  I hung up the phone and rested my forehead on my knees. Oh, please, I thought, just let us get through tomorrow without any problems. Let Dad marry Sylvia and Sylvia not throw up and me not trip on my long dress and especially … don’t let Jim Sorringer ruin the whole thing.

  5

  Yes!

  When I woke up Saturday morning, I took a look around my bedroom. Everything was about to change, I thought. Then I reminded myself that my room wouldn’t change.

  My jungle bedspread was still here, my tropical plant, my old fur-and-plastic monkey I rediscovered in the attic. No matter how Dad and Sylvia might change the rest of the house, this room would be mine forever, my own little space, my hideaway.

  I stared at the light that slipped in above my curtains. Not forever. Two and a half years more before college, maybe. Six and a half years if I went to a local college and lived at home. At what age could parents kick you out? I wondered.

  Hey! What am I doing in bed? I asked myself. This was it! This was the day I’d been waiting for ever since I saw Miss Summers in seventh grade!

  I threw off my blanket and hurried across the hall to the bathroom. As I brushed my teeth I realized this might be my last breakfast alone with Dad. Maybe he had fixed pecan pancakes for just the two of us. I put on my robe and started down the stairs.

  Dad was on the phone in the hall, going over last-minute details with the photographer. I wandered out to the kitchen. There wasn’t any breakfast waiting at all—just half a pot of coffee warming on the stove. I dawdled so Dad could finish his conversation, but when he hung up, he dialed Lester to see if someone was in charge of bringing back any gifts that were brought to the reception. I reached for the cornflakes and ate a solitary breakfast, then went upstairs and took my shower.

  I was heading back to my room in my terry-cloth robe, a towel around my head, when the phone rang. I answered in the upstairs hall.

  “Is this Alice?” asked a woman’s voice.

  “Yes …”

  “I’m Lois, Sylvia’s roommate from college. I’m on my way over to pick you up. Sylvia’s instructions.”

  “Now?” I said, still dripping water on the rug. “I’m not dressed! I’m not even dry!”

  “Perfect!” said Lois. “Just bring your dress and shoes and undies, and come out to the car in your robe. We’ll take care of the rest.”

  I giggled. “Okay!” I said, and flew into action. I had barely stuffed my underwear and shoes in a shopping bag when the phone rang again.

  “It’s Lois,” came the voice. “I’m on a cell phone, actually, and I’m right outside your house. I’ve been running errands all morning.”

  I put on some sandals and clattered downstairs, the towel still around my head, bag in one hand, dress in the other.

  “Al?” said Dad, staring.

  “See you at the church, Dad!” I said gaily, and pushed open the screen door.

  Elizabeth was on the driveway across the street, picking up the newspaper.

  “Alice!” she cried when she saw me, and I waved, laughing. I struck a pose, my arms outstretched, one foot forward, and suddenly my robe parted in front. Elizabeth and I shrieked together as I yanked it shut.

  Lois was laughing too as she leaned over and opened the passenger-side door. “Better get in before you get arrested,” she said, and helped me spread out my gown on the backseat. She was blond, with close-cropped hair, like Pamela’s, and magnificent cheekbones. Her legs were long, and I imagined that she and Sylvia must have been pretty popular together in college.

  “Big day, huh?” she said. “I haven’t seen Sylvia this excited since we went on our first double date together.”

  “I feel utterly, completely naked,” I said, pulling my robe together over my bare legs.

  “Well, you are!” she said with a laugh. “But we’ll fix that in a hurry. We’ve got a crew all ready to make you over.”

  “A crew? I’m such a wreck, it takes a crew?”

  She grinned. “Well, Sylvia’s sister-in-law and niece. Don’t worry. I won’t let them do anything drastic.” And twenty minutes later we pulled up in front of Sylvia’s little house in Kensington.

  I felt as though I were on an assembly line. I was perfumed, deodorized, powdered, moussed, blow-dried, arranged, and sprayed. And that was just my hair and body. Back in the bedroom some of Sylvia’s teacher friends were working on her.

  After putting on my gown, I was ushered to the dining-room table, where Margaret waited to do my face. There was a mirror propped against a stack of books, and I never saw so many cosmetics spread out in front of me. Maybe it was a good thing that Margaret was a perfectionist; I wouldn’t want somebody making my eyebrows uneven or putting the lip gloss on crooked.

  First a moisturizer on my face and neck. Then foundation liquid makeup, the color of my skin, rouge on my cheekbones, and loose powder patted over my entire face. I’ll have to admit, Margaret must have had a lot of practice, because everything she did looked good. Her mother stood by to do the final touching up.

  Sylvia’s sister was lying on the couch resting, and she smiled at me as she watched me being transformed. The royal blue gown she was supposed to wear in the bridal party lay draped over the back of a chair.

  “I’m sorry you’re not going to be in the ceremony, Nancy,” I said.

  “I’m disappointed I’m not feeling strong enough to get through it on my feet, Alice, but I’m having a good time watching you,” she said. “And I’m going to go right ahead and wear the dress anyway.”

  “Good for you,” I told her.

  “Now hold completely still,” said Margaret. “Don’t blink, and don’t even breathe if you can help it.” I did my best, and she carefully began applying eyeliner to my lower and upper lids, as close to the lashes as she could possibly get on top and close to the inner rim of the lower lid, making little dots instead of a long straight line. I could see what she was doing in the mirror, and I noticed that she was putting the liner on only the outer two thirds of both lids. “Makes your eyes look wider apart,” she explained. Then she carefully smudged the liner, added eye shadow, mascara on my lashes, and she gently brushed my eyebrows.

  Next my nails.

  I kept stealing looks at myself in the mirror. It was still me, but my good features were more pronounced. For some reason my eyes looked even more green, the strawberry highlights in my hair more red. I suddenly realized that I had cheekbones too. I just hadn’t emphasized them before.

  “Wow!” I said, to no one in particular. “I’m gorgeous!”

  The women laughed, but behind me I heard someone say, “Of course you are. You’re even gorgeous without all that stuff.”

  And there was Sylvia, in a long white satin gown. It was a simple sleeveless design, with a lace panel down the front. There were slits on either side of the skirt, giving a glimpse of her sling-back white satin shoes.

  “Oh, Sylvia!” I breathed. “It’s a fairy-tale dress!”

  She smiled. “It’s a fairy-tale day,” she told me. Her nail polish was the color of mine, Rusty Rose, and she wore her hair up, showing off her beautiful neck in back. The veil was gathered away from her face, held in place by the floating pearl headband. Breathlessly beautiful was the way I’d describe her.

  Here I was, the maid of honor, but I couldn’t think of one single thing I’d done to help Sylvia get ready. When I told her that, though, she just laughed and said, “Well, you brought your dad and me together. I’d say that was a lot, wouldn’t you?”

  We all helped Nancy into her dress and did her hair before Kirk came by to pick
her up. With people actually leaving for the church, I could feel the excitement building inside me. I glanced at the clock, then at Sylvia. Only a little while longer and she would be my stepmom.

  At ten thirty a white stretch limousine pulled up in front. Carrying her bouquet, I helped Sylvia down the steps as neighbors watched from their porches, waving and smiling, and—once inside the limo—I carefully gathered her veil and placed it around her shoulders so it wouldn’t wrinkle.

  Everything seemed so surreal. I’d never been in a limo before. Sylvia sat at the very back, Lois and I on the side seats facing in, and Margaret and her mother on the seat behind the driver, facing us. The long white car rolled noiselessly down the street and around the corner, not far from the church on Cedar Lane.

  “I didn’t know you could see so well out the windows. They always looked dark to me,” I said.

  “We can see out, but nobody can see in,” Lois explained. “So if we wanted, we could all get up on our hands and knees and moon the world.”

  I giggled and Sylvia grinned. “Leave it to Lois!” she said. “The craziest roommate I ever had.” Margaret and her mother gave us anemic little smiles, and that almost made me burst out laughing, but I checked myself.

  You wouldn’t even know there was a church down in those trees if it weren’t for the sign at the driveway entrance. It just looks like a deep woods, but there it was, with high glass walls on either side of the sanctuary, made up of several hundred little glass panels, and nothing to see through them but the October leaves.

  I backed out of the limo first, giving my hand to Sylvia.

  “Yay!” came a chorus from behind me when Sylvia stepped out, and there were Elizabeth and Pamela and Gwen and Lori, waiting for us.

  “You go, girl!” called Gwen, and we all laughed.

  A special room in the church was called the Bride’s Room, and Sylvia did her last-minute adjusting there while the guests were coming in. I was relieved to see that she had her own little bag with her, which we would carry to the reception for her, but I had brought a small ivory-colored clutch to hold under my arm with some safety pins in it, one of Dad’s large handkerchiefs, and just to be on the safe side, a waxed bag from Krispy Kreme doughnuts to use as a barf bag at the altar, just in case Sylvia got sick.