Every Bride Has Her Day

  I couldn’t help but notice my cousin’s post-baby physique as I took a seat on the sofa next to Brady. Her tummy had receded a bit, though not as much as I might’ve expected. Her feet—once huge—looked perfectly normal, and the swelling in her face had gone down. How the human body managed to pull off such fascinating post-pregnancy transformations, I could not say. Perhaps one day I’d find out firsthand. Not that Brady and I had any plans to have children right away.

  Then again, we’d never really talked about it, had we? For all I knew, he wanted a whole basketball team, and the sooner, the better. Yikes. Maybe I’d better have a little chat with him about all of that.

  For sure, I wasn’t ready to go through labor. All of the panting—and the people running around the room talking about you as if you weren’t even there—was difficult to comprehend. Maybe one day the idea would make more sense, but right now it just felt foreign to me.

  “Did we lose you, Katie?” Lori-Lou passed the baby off to me, and I shifted my gaze down to that darling face, then back up at my cousin, who couldn’t seem to stop grinning. “Thinking about what it’ll be like for you one day?”

  I studied the infant, lost in my thoughts, but didn’t answer.

  “Being a mother is the most wonderful thing in the world.” She released a little sigh. “I can’t describe it, but it’s better than Disney and Six Flags all rolled into one.”

  Josh, Brady, and I stared at her in stunned silence. Clearly the postpartum blues had sailed away. Thank God. But had she really forgotten the pain of childbirth? Surely not.

  Lori-Lou helped me wrap the baby in her receiving blanket and showed me how to tuck in the corner to hold it in place. “You’re a natural at that, Katie Sue. Like I said the other day, you’re going to make a great mommy.”

  No, what you said was, “You’d be a better mother than me,” and then you had a complete meltdown.

  “You think I’ll do okay?” I traced my finger along the baby’s porcelain cheek.

  My cousin clasped her hands together. “I know. So let’s get this show on the road already. Now that I’ve had the baby, it’s time to start planning for your big day so you can have a few of your own.”

  To my right, Brady choked on a sip of his coffee.

  Lori-Lou put her hand up. “Not that I plan to tell you what to do or when to do it. I’ve heard enough from Aunt Alva to know that everyone in Fairfield—and half the people at the bridal shop—are already trying to take the wedding reins away from you.”

  “Thank you for acknowledging that,” I said. “Is it so awful to want to plan my own wedding without a bunch of committees chiming in?”

  “Not awful at all,” she said.

  “I just feel like I can’t please anyone. Everyone is tugging on me, right and left, and I’m going to end up hurting someone’s feelings, no matter what I choose to do.”

  “You’ve seen plenty of brides go through this before. I know, because you’ve told me so many horror stories. They come into the bridal shop with their families in tow and end up in tears because they’re not allowed to do what they really want. They’re manipulated.”

  “Manipulated.” I sighed. “Yep.”

  “Don’t let it happen. You just stand up for yourself. Better yet, put it all on me. I’m your matron of honor, right? Tell them I’ve insisted on a wedding at your home church without all of the frills.”

  “Good idea,” I said. “I’ll pin it all on you.”

  “I’m going to make sure you get what you want. So tell me what that is. What do you guys really want—in your heart of hearts?”

  Brady looked away from the TV long enough to chime in, “Whatever makes her happy.”

  “Okay then. What will make you happy, Katie?” Lori-Lou asked.

  Brady turned his full attention to me. He slipped his arm over my shoulders and waited for my response.

  “I want . . .” I gazed down into baby Izzy’s face. “Sweet. Like, hometown sweet. Nothing gaudy. Not really country-western, though I know most of the people in town would expect that, being from Texas and all. More . . . old-fashioned. I like the idea of old love songs. Maybe take people back in time a little, but not in a theatrical sort of way. Just quaint.”

  “So, Fairfield at its finest,” my cousin said.

  “Yes. But not necessarily the same old, same old. I’ve always pictured myself getting married at the Baptist church.”

  “Brady?” Josh glanced his way. “You okay with that?”

  “More than okay,” Brady said with a firm nod. “And just so you know, I’ve already made that plain to my mother. She won’t be bringing up the Gaylord anymore.”

  “Well, that’s settled.” Josh turned his attention back to the game. “See what happens when you put a guy in charge? We get things done in a fraction of the time.”

  “Puh-leeze.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m serious, though.” Brady pulled me closer. “No more interference from my mom. We had ‘the talk.’”

  A wave of relief washed over me, and I leaned into him to whisper, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Anything for my bride-to-be.”

  “Okay, wedding at the church.” Lori-Lou reached for her phone and started typing into it. “And the reception?”

  “Not at the church,” I said. “I picture it outdoors.”

  “In summer?” Lori-Lou asked.

  “Maybe evening? Sunset?” A thoughtful look passed over Brady’s face. “Might be pretty to watch the sun go down during the reception, and that would certainly make Twiggy happy.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “She’s got this whole ‘riding off into the sunset’ picture in her mind. Don’t even get me started on the rest.”

  Lori-Lou glanced down at her phone and then back up at me. “So, outdoor reception, but where?”

  “I do have someplace in mind, actually. It’s close to the church so that people don’t have far to drive.” I felt my excitement grow as I shared my thoughts. “What would you think if I said I wanted to hold the reception on the courthouse lawn? Kind of like a picnic on the grounds, only much nicer. No red and white checkered tablecloths—I’m talking really nice tables with pretty centerpieces. But outdoors. And I love the idea of being there at sunset, Brady. So romantic.”

  “That’s me, romantic.” He squeezed my hand. “I think we’re getting somewhere. That courthouse lawn is perfect. Do you think the city will let us use it?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  “The mayor won’t give you any trouble,” Lori-Lou said. “And the landscaping is gorgeous. We’ve had so many picnics out there over the years. Brings back so many sweet memories of growing up in Fairfield.”

  “That’s kind of what I was thinking.” I shrugged. “Sort of a cross between formal and informal, if that makes sense. I’d invite everyone in town—and they would show up, because they’d know they were all welcome. We could have elegant foods, but maybe served in a way that would make it easy to visit with others. Maybe . . . skewered? Shish kabobs? I’ve seen a zillion recipes that would work in a really nice setting. And I’d traipse around the courthouse lawn in my Loretta Lynn gown, chugging cups of lemonade and greeting everyone I saw. That’s what I would do.”

  “Then why don’t we do just that?” Brady asked.

  “Which part?”

  “All of it.” His eyes sparkled, and I could read the joy in his expression. “Get married at your home church, have the reception on the courthouse lawn, and drink sweet lemonade while carrying the blender?”

  “I don’t recall mentioning a blender.”

  “You did. In a prior conversation. It stuck with me. People in Fairfield always give blenders. And toasters.”

  “And baskets of cleaning products. Did I forget to mention that?”

  “Oh yes, Queenie always gives cleaning products,” Lori-Lou said. “Because one can never have too many of those.”

  “See how easi
ly this is coming together when you put a man in charge?” Josh looked up from the game once again, ignoring his wife’s grunt. “Now all you need is a date.”

  “Right, a date.” I sighed.

  “It might be easier to tell you when we can’t have the wedding,” Brady said. “Turns out the church has a lot of summer events. I think the only weekend that will work for everyone is the second Saturday in August.”

  “All the more reason to hold the wedding later in the day with the reception at sunset,” I said. “It won’t be so hot then.”

  “Well now, it looks to me like you two have officially planned your wedding.” Lori-Lou fidgeted with her phone. “I’m sending all of these notes to you by text so you don’t forget.”

  “Oh, I won’t forget. But thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” My cousin leaned down and took Izzy from me. “We need to get you two hitched so you can start producing gorgeous babies like this little doll.”

  At this point, we lost her to the oohing and aahing. Not that I minded. It felt so good to see Lori-Lou acting more like herself again. A few minutes later I followed her into the master bedroom, where she changed the baby’s diaper and put her into the bassinet.

  “So, what does it feel like?” I asked as we gazed down at the sleeping babe. “To be that much in love with a baby you’ve only just met?”

  “Hey, you’re the writer, not me.” Lori-Lou gazed at her baby girl with admiration and love flowing from every pore. “Not sure I could put it into words like you could.”

  “Me? A writer?” I laughed.

  “Well, yeah, Katie. You write articles and ads for the store all the time. So you tell me how to put into words what love feels like.”

  I gazed into the adorable face of that innocent baby and reached down to trace her cheek with my finger. “It feels like . . . the best gift you’ve ever received. Only, it’s not Christmas, so you weren’t anticipating the gift. And it’s not your birthday either. The gift arrived in a completely blissful and unexpected way, when you least expected it.”

  “Um, I was expecting Izzy for nine months, remember?”

  “You asked me to describe what love felt like, not just the love for a child, but in general. When I think about love, I can’t help but think about Brady.” A few quiet moments of introspection followed my words.

  “You’re smiling.” Lori-Lou chuckled.

  “Yeah.”

  “You know, I remember a time when you thought you were in love with Casey Lawson.”

  “Ugh. Did you have to go there?”

  “Point is, you now know the difference between the real deal and the not-so-real deal.”

  “Yeah. I guess it’s like they always say, you don’t know a counterfeit dollar bill until you’ve handled a real one. Brady’s the real bill. Er, the real deal.” I laughed out loud. “And you’re right. I thought I was in love. There’s a difference between thinking it and actually being in it, if that makes sense.”

  “Perfect sense. And trust me when I say that one day you’ll be sitting where I am now, holding a beautiful little baby in your arms and realizing that loving your husband is more beautiful—and more complex—than you knew. It goes so far beyond feelings and into the commonplace, everyday stuff—the dirty dishes, the screaming kids, the icky diapers.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I think that being a mom has taught me to understand God’s love for us, his kids. Does that make sense?”

  “Perfect sense.” I leaned over and gave her a hug. “And just for the record, I think you’re one of his favorites.”

  “You too,” she said.

  That evening Brady and I talked all the way back to my place. I could tell from the excitement in his voice that he loved the idea of the outdoor reception. And I had every reason to believe our friends and loved ones would too, once the idea settled in. As for Nadia, I couldn’t be sure. No doubt she would smile and carry on as if it made no difference, but I wondered if she might secretly hold a grudge, feeling as if her son had somehow gotten a raw deal on his wedding day. Hopefully not.

  One thing was sure and certain: Brady and I needed to share our plans with our friends and family members so that they would stop trying to interfere . . . and the sooner, the better.

  12

  There You Are

  People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone.

  Audrey Hepburn

  Okay, so explain this to me one more time, Katie Sue.” My mother’s voice faded a bit as she fidgeted with her phone. Then her volume rose several decibels. “I’ve. Put. You. On. That. Speakerphone. Thingy. So. Your. Pop. Can. Hear. You.”

  Alrighty then. But why did she feel the need to overenunciate?

  “Tell him what you said.” Mama’s volume leveled out. “Even the strange parts.”

  Don’t sigh, Katie. Don’t sigh.

  I sighed.

  “I said, Brady and I are going to get married indoors at the church on the evening of Saturday, August 13th, at six o’clock, with a reception to follow outdoors on the courthouse lawn.”

  “Well, that’s different,” my father said.

  “At least she’s not doing a Gone with the Wind theme like Crystal,” Mama said. Her volume rose once again. “You’re. Not. Are. You?”

  “No. No theme to speak of, unless you call quaint and old-fashioned a theme. And that’s what I wanted to talk to you guys about. I’m going to need some help with ideas for the picnic.”

  “Wait . . . picnic?” Pop asked. “Did I hear that right?”

  “Yes, but not a traditional one. The reception will have a picnic feel. For example, we’re thinking about offering a lemonade stand instead of punch.”

  “Excuse me?” Pop asked. “Couldn’t quite make out that part.”

  “I think she said lemonade stand, Herb,” Mama said.

  “Well, if it’s a warm day—and it will be—I think we need to do an old-fashioned lemonade stand with all different flavors people can add to their home-squeezed lemonade.”

  “Home-squeezed? I’m going to have to employ all of the WOP-pers to squeeze lemons. I think Prissy has a great lemonade recipe.”

  “Prissy? Hmm. Well, that’s why I need your help . . . with the WOP-pers. You’re hereby hired as intermediary, Mama.”

  “Oh, joy to the world.” She groaned. “Okay, job accepted. I’m sure Crystal will help. She’s such a sweet girl. But remember, honey, I’ll have to do most of the planning from out of state. You okay with that?”

  “Yep. But we’ll see one another at Jasper and Crystal’s wedding. And Joni asked when she should plan my bridal shower. I suggested the day after their wedding—a Sunday—because we’ll all be together anyway.”

  “Everyone but Jasper and Crystal. I hear they’re going to Atlanta for their honeymoon. So where are you guys going for your honeymoon, Katie Sue?” Mama asked. “Have you decided yet?”

  I’d hesitated to tell her the expense Nadia had gone to for our honeymoon, but I couldn’t put it off any longer. “We’re going to Bali, Mama. It’s in the—”

  “Pacific!” Pop’s voice grew more animated. “I know, honey. I’ve been researching it myself. Did you know that it can cost you up to ten grand a night to stay in some of those rooms?”

  “I heard something like that. Anyway, we’re going to Bali. But back to our reception. We want it to be fun and summery, sort of a cross between formal and informal. The lemonade stand will help. We’ll have raspberries, blueberries, and peaches.”

  “Peach lemonade?” Mama asked.

  “Of course. That’s what I’m thinking, anyway. Someone can serve the lemonade next to the cake, which will be light and summery too. Nothing heavy or overly decorated.”

  “So, that shabby chic thing everyone’s doing?”

  “No, not that either. Just sweet. That’s the word I’m looking for here—sweet. To match the Loretta Lynn gown. To match my life, Mama. I’ve had a sweet life in a sweet
town with sweet people gathered around me. I’ve been so blessed.”

  “Well, when you put it like that, I guess I can’t argue about the outdoor reception. It’s going to be perfect, honey. But don’t tell your dad about the lemonade stand. He’ll want to put on that old-fashioned ice-cream getup of his and serve it.”

  “I’m right here, ladies,” my father said. “And I just heard every word of that, remember.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “Ooh, that’s a cute idea, Mama. Ice cream. Maybe we can do an ice cream stand too. Near the cake, I mean. And what would you think about doing summer flavors in the cake? Strawberry. Lemon. White with raspberry filling? We can do a separate chocolate cake for the groom’s cake, but the wedding cake can be light and summery. Great with ice cream. And raspberry lemonade. Yum.”

  “I think it’s perfect. What kind of music will you have?”

  “We’ve talked about doing a lot of older songs, from days gone by. Sweet stuff. Do you think Mr. Harrison is still in that band? You know, the one with the old-fashioned music? Brady suggested hiring a band to play throughout the whole reception. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  “Yes, but this isn’t at all the way you’ve described your wedding plans to me in the past,” Mama said. “Everything was going to be very traditional—all of it in the church, including the reception. But I’m not arguing. I love these ideas.”

  “Thank you for understanding, Mama. Times change.” I gave a little shrug. “People change.”

  “Just promise you won’t have corn dogs. Remember what happened at the fair a couple of years back, when Gilly choked on a corn dog and scared us all half to death?”

  “Of course.”

  “And no barbecue. It’s so messy.”

  “We were thinking about easy foods that people can eat while they’re visiting with others. I can tell you more about that later, but I’ve been looking up a ton of easy recipes. I was hoping the folks at Sam’s could help with that.”

  “I’m sure they could do anything you need. It all sounds lovely. And I’m just so relieved you’re getting married at home. What a blessing. How’s Nadia taking the news?”