Every Bride Has Her Day

  “Yep. And just wait till you see the fruit. I won’t give it away, but let’s just say that Eduardo has been busy. Very, very busy.”

  “Eduardo?”

  “Yes.” Mama laughed. “Why doesn’t it surprise me that he’s great with fruit arrangements? He’s amazing with dress design. The man is an artiste! Of course, he had a little help from the WOP-pers.”

  “God bless those WOP-pers.” Brady reached over and gave my mother a hug. “And God bless you, Mom.”

  At this proclamation my mother erupted in tears. I didn’t blame her. The whole thing made me feel a little emotional too.

  Twiggy touched my arm. “Katie, don’t you see?”

  “See what?”

  She pointed at the courthouse lawn, complete with foods, friends, and family. “It really is like a themed wedding. Outdoor picnic. All of the foods handy to grab and go. You should create a Pinterest board and put up pictures from your wedding. Other brides will want to do this too.”

  “Um, one thing at a time.” Brady shook his head. “We’ve got to go on our honeymoon first.”

  Honeymoon.

  Bali!

  Pinterest would have to wait.

  Casey, acting as deejay, announced our arrival. I still couldn’t get over the irony of that. Once upon a time I’d thought I would marry that boy. Now he and Joni were living their happily ever after, and I was too.

  The crowd cheered as Brady and I walked to the dance floor—So that’s what the guys were working on all morning!—and had our first dance as man and wife. What a picture we must’ve made—the six feet five basketball player and the five feet two cheerleader. Despite our differences in height, however, we were perfectly matched.

  There in Brady’s arms, with the town of Fairfield looking on, I finally managed to gather my wits about me. I let my thoughts shift back to the ceremony, to our vows, to that magnificent kiss.

  And the kiss in the foyer.

  Oh, and the kiss Brady was giving me right here, as the crowd cheered.

  “Hello, Mrs. James,” he whispered in my ear when he finished kissing me.

  I giggled. “Is it true?”

  “Yep.” A tiny kiss on my ear followed, sending tingles down my spine. “And you know what else?”

  “What?”

  He gestured with his head. “Everyone’s here, having a good time. No feuding. No one telling anyone what to do or how to do it. You got to have your day, Katie, just like you said.”

  I thought about the truth of his words. Yes, I’d had my day, and what a glorious one it had turned out to be!

  I rested my head against his shoulder. Off in the distance I heard the click of the cameras, but I didn’t pay any attention. Let them get all the photos they wanted.

  The next several minutes were a delicious blur. We sat at the head table with our wedding party, looking out on all of the other picnic tables loaded with happy, cheerful wedding guests. All around us, the various food stations were ready to roll. Shish kabobs with bacon, beef, onions, mushrooms, peppers, and cherry tomatoes. Teriyaki chicken with pineapple. Sesame shrimp with rice vinegar and soy sauce. Buccaneer pork tenderloin with citrus sauce.

  My gaze shifted to the fruits. I’d never seen so many skewered fruits, all on colorful display. And it didn’t stop there. Vegetable trays made up to look like flowers. Easy-to-handle sandwiches, ready to grab and go. Just like I’d pictured it all: fun, easy foods that the guests could hang on to while they visited with people from table to table. And wasn’t that the idea, both in a small town and beyond—to get to know one another? To spend time together? To enjoy fellowship around the table?

  Finally the moment came to cut the cake. I took in the cake table, marveling at the glorious, traditional five-tiered cake Ophelia had constructed. In all of my imaginings, I’d never come up with anything as exquisite. Hand piping graced each layer, and pastel ribbons in a variety of colors circled the bottom of every buttercream layer. Yum.

  I gave Ophelia an admiring look. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve been taking lessons at culinary school or something.”

  “YouTube videos.” Ophelia handed me the cake cutter. “You can learn almost anything you need to know from YouTube. Bracing and stacking cakes. Fondant work. Piping. Anything. I’m addicted to YouTube.”

  “You’re so good, you should start your own channel,” I observed. “Especially since you’ve opened the bakery.”

  “Already have.” She grinned. “And if y’all like the wedding cake, come a little closer. I want to show you both a little surprise.” She led the way to another smaller table off to the side. I gasped when I stared down at the basketball-court cake, complete with fondant figures dressed in Mavericks colors.

  “Wow.” Brady looked completely flabbergasted as he leaned down to give it a closer look. “Wow.”

  Ophelia clapped her hands together. “So glad you like it! See now, I know you asked for a chocolate groom’s cake, but you didn’t really specify a design. I couldn’t help but think of basketball every time I got ready to sketch out an idea. But I didn’t want to hurt your feelings, Brady, you being off that second surgery a few months ago and all.”

  He squared his shoulders as he faced her. “Actually, since you mention it, my knee is healing so well that the doctor is going to let me play again. We haven’t shared this news publicly, but I’ve been back on the court for a while now, just to see if the knee will hold. Looks like I’m good to go.”

  “Oh, honey!” Ophelia clasped her hands together. “That’s the best news ever. And that makes this cake prophetic, doesn’t it!” She raised her voice for all of our guests to hear. “Did you hear that, folks? I have the gift of cake prophecy! Thank you, Jesus!” She lifted her hands to the heavens and let out a whoop.

  Pap-Paul quirked a brow at that one but didn’t say anything.

  “Okay, time to cut the cake.” I focused on the many tiers standing before me. “Does it matter which tier we cut into?”

  Ophelia shook her head. “Not to me, but if you’re a fan of the Italian cream cake, it’s the one on top. Chocolate’s just underneath. Then lemon raspberry. Then butter pecan. The bottom tier—the big one—is white cake with almond flavoring. That’s my favorite, but I’m kind of a plain Jane.”

  “Hardly.”

  “True.” She offered a playful wink. “I did sneak in some strawberry preserves. They taste so yummy with that white cake. Mmm.”

  That sounded amazing, but the idea of cutting into the bottom tier terrified me. What if the four tiers atop it cratered? Nope, I’d stick with the Italian cream cake, thank you very much. Though my hands trembled a little, I managed to cut a small piece of the top tier and then put it on the plate Prissy handed me.

  “Cut it in half,” she instructed. “You’ll both need a piece to feed each other.”

  I sliced the piece of cake in half and then set the knife aside. All around me, the crowd chanted, “Do it! Do it! Do it!” as Brady and I each took a piece in hand. We linked arms, then aimed—well, at least I aimed—the cake toward the intended target.

  Brady got me right in the nose. Some wise guy—probably my father—hollered, “Three-point shot!”

  I somehow managed to smash his piece into his left eyebrow. He wiped the frosting from his brow with his index finger, stuck some in his mouth, and proclaimed it to be the best cake he’d ever eaten. This, of course, delighted Ophelia, who went to work cutting up slices for our guests.

  Brady leaned in close and pointed at my top lip. “You have a little something . . . right . . . here.” Then, with all of our guests chiming in with a rousing, “Go for it!” he gave me a kiss sweeter than all five tiers of wedding cake put together.

  32

  Blessed

  How shall I sum up my life? I think I’ve been particularly lucky. Does that have something to do with faith also? I know my mother always used to say, “Good things aren’t supposed to just fall in your lap. God is very generous, but he expects you
to do your part first.” So you have to make that effort. But at the end of a bad time or a huge effort, I’ve always had—how shall I say it?—the prize at the end. My whole life shows that.

  Audrey Hepburn

  After a couple of bites of the yummiest cake ever, I caught a glimpse of my parents standing just a few yards away, talking to the sheriff and his wife. I walked their way and Brady tagged along. I threw my arms around my father’s neck, which startled him a bit. He almost dropped his cup of lemonade.

  “Katie Sue, you caught me off guard.”

  “Sorry, Pop. I just wanted to say I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you enough for doing all of this for me.”

  “You’re my only daughter, sweet pea.” My father’s eyes flooded with tears, and a tremor of emotion laced his words. “I would’ve given you the world if you’d asked for it.”

  I could tell from the emotion in his voice that he truly meant it, so I offered a trembling “Thank you,” gratitude overwhelming me.

  My father’s nose wrinkled. “On the other hand, I was a little relieved when you went with this whole picnic-in-the-park idea. Saved me a bundle, especially on the rental fee. Did I tell you that Mayor Luchenbacher was in such a good frame of mind after last night’s prayer meeting at the hospital that he didn’t charge a penny for renting out the property? But if you happen to see a couple of people who weren’t invited show up, we have to let them stay. This is public property, even tonight.”

  Lovely.

  “Kidding, kidding.” He laughed. “I double dog dare anyone to crash my daughter’s wedding. I’d sic your brothers on them.” He looked around. “Where are those brothers of yours, anyway?”

  “Pretty sure Jasper is with Crystal at the lemonade stand. Did I tell you that she decorated it and even helped the WOP-pers come up with flavors? Oh, and I saw Dewey and Dahlia going back for more food. No idea where Beau and Twiggy landed.”

  “Twiggy’s serving cake. Jane and that Hibiscus girl are helping.” Mama pointed to the cake table. Sure enough, tiny little Twiggy and the other girls stood alongside Ophelia, slicing up pieces. The five-tiered wedding cake was already down to just two tiers. Crazy.

  “Now, one thing you need to know,” Mama said.

  “Please tell me you’re not going to give her the speech about the honeymoon.” My father looked ill at the very idea. I felt a little ill myself.

  “Don’t be silly.” My mother rolled her eyes, then turned back to face me. “I wanted to warn you that Alva came up with an idea. You know how people gave you so much advice about your wedding?”

  “How could we forget?” Brady laughed.

  “She’s got a scrapbook.” Mama pointed to the gift table on the far side of the lawn. “And people are writing down their marriage advice. She thought it’d be good to read later.”

  “Aw, that’s kind of sweet,” I said.

  “Yes.” Mama grinned and looped her arm through my father’s. “Just don’t be surprised. I hear the WOP-pers have come up with some real zingers.”

  “Oh dear.” I laughed.

  “I’ll start with the advice, okay?” Pop appeared to be thinking, then looked straight at Brady. “Don’t forget to put the toilet seat down.”

  “I see.” Brady nodded. “That will do the trick, sir?”

  “Well, it won’t hurt.” Pop slapped Brady on the back and laughed so hard that several others, including my aunt and uncle, joined us to find out what was happening.

  “What’s going on over here?” Alva rested her hands on her hips. “Someone having a party without us?”

  “Just giving them marriage advice,” Pop responded.

  “Ooh, marriage advice.” My aunt clasped her hands together. “I’ve been trying all night to come up with just the right thing.”

  “It’s easy.” Eduardo slipped his arm around my aunt’s waist. “Tell her every day that she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever known. And mean it.”

  “That won’t be hard.” Brady gave me a gentle kiss on the lips, then whispered, “It’s true, you know.”

  My heart did that funny little pitter-pat thing as I realized he truly meant it.

  “I have some advice,” Stan called out. “Don’t get married by a judge.”

  I’d just started to say, “But I’m already married,” when he grinned and added, “Ask for a jury!” Then he slapped his thigh and busted out laughing. Until Madge slugged him on the arm.

  “I always say a fella just ain’t complete till he’s found himself a bride,” Casey’s dad, Mr. Lawson, said. “Then, after he’s married her, he’s finished.”

  Okay then. We were off to a great start.

  Mrs. Lawson gave me the sweetest smile. “I have some advice, honey. If you feel the need to change something, then change the color of the walls. Change the curtains. But don’t try to change your hubby.”

  I’d almost responded with, “Great advice,” when her husband gazed at her, eyes narrowed. “Really? After forty years of you trying to change everything about me, you say this now?”

  She punched him on the arm too.

  My grandmother drew near. I could tell her knee was troubling her. She leaned against Pap-Paul, who seemed happy to hold her in place.

  “Don’t listen to these folks, Katie Sue. If you want to know the secret to a long and happy life as a married couple, just live every day as if it’s your last, but enjoy the wonder of being together as if it’s your first.”

  “That’s what your mom and I are doing.” Pop took Mama in his arms and tipped her backwards, then planted a big smooch on her. When he lifted her back up again, she looked a little dizzy. She pinched her eyes shut as if to somehow block out the embarrassment. The crowd, however, loved it. In fact, the WOP-pers loved it so much that they called for an encore. Pop was happy to oblige.

  “My advice,” Pap-Paul said, “is to agree to disagree. You don’t always have to be like-minded about everything.”

  “Unless your wife is right, of course,” Queenie added. “Then you should agree with her.”

  “Should I be taking notes?” Brady asked. “This is getting a little overwhelming.”

  “Nope.” Mama, still trying to get control of herself after Pop’s passionate kiss, shook her head. “Scrapbook. Gift table. It’s all written down.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Whew.” He laughed.

  Time to switch gears. With our bellies full of food, cake, and lemonade, the party really went into full swing. The band kept the music going, all sweet love songs from days gone by, and opened the dance floor for our guests—after the father-daughter dance, which made me cry all over again.

  Pop managed to put the smile back on my face by telling a funny joke. Otherwise I probably would’ve lost it altogether. When the dance ended, Brady led his mother to the floor. I watched as Nadia—my boss, my friend, my mother-in-law—shared the dance of her life with her son. Afterward, Bradley Pennington cut in. Brady didn’t seem to mind passing his mother off to the handsome stranger.

  Much.

  My husband joined me for a couple of dances, then we slipped off to the side of the dance floor to catch our breath. I watched Nadia and Bradley as the music shifted to a slow song. They remained in each other’s arms.

  “You okay over there?” I asked Brady.

  He grunted. “Yeah. Guess so.”

  “Looks like Queenie and Pap-Paul are having a good time. And Alva and Eduardo are the life of the party.” I pointed to the dance floor, where my aunt danced with great dramatic flair.

  “She’s something else,” Brady said.

  “Hey, you’re related to all of these people now, you know. Better be careful what you say!”

  “True. I love ’em, Katie. I do.” He slipped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.

  I looked around the courthouse lawn, my heart wanting to burst into song as I reveled in the beauty of it all. Twinkling lights strung from pole to pole provided just the right glimmer for the area as the sun began it
s descent. My gaze shifted westward, where the brilliant red-gold sunset begged for my attention. I stopped, captivated, as I drank it in. Brady slid his arm around my waist, and we observed it together in silence.

  Until Bessie May drew near with the mayor at her side. “All we need is a white horse.”

  “Beg your pardon?” I turned to face her. “White horse?”

  “Well, sure.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “In all of the old movies, the couple would ride off into the sunset on a white horse, and you just knew that everything was going to work out well for them. It was the very best way to say, ‘And they all lived happily ever after.’”

  “Wait . . . did Twiggy tell you to say that?” I asked.

  “No, why?” Bessie May looked a bit perplexed by my question.

  “I really like that idea,” the mayor said. “A lot, in fact.” His eyes narrowed and then he snapped his fingers. “Yep. Like it a lot.”

  Before we could say “What idea?” he took off across the lawn.

  “What do you think he has up his sleeve?” Brady asked.

  “No idea, but I’m a little terrified just thinking about it.”

  My concerns dissipated a few minutes later when several of the WOP-pers and their husbands, dressed in old-timey aprons and hats, served up ice cream to go along with the cake.

  “Want some?” Brady asked, a twinkle in his eye.

  “Just a little. I’m more thirsty. Raspberry lemonade sounds amazing.”

  We stopped at the lemonade stand first. It truly took my breath away. Crystal and Jasper had done a magnificent job putting it together. They both now served the guests. I was surprised to see that Corrie had joined them, dressed in an adorable yellow and white apron and cap.

  “What flavor would you like with your lemonade, ma’am?” the youngster asked me. “Raspberry? Blueberry? Strawberry? Peach?”

  “I’ll have raspberry, thank you,” I said in my most courteous voice.

  “You’re more than welcome, ma’am. I’ll be right back with your order.” She gave the order to Crystal, who prepared my drink by adding pureed raspberries to a glass of homemade lemonade. She gave it a whirl in the blender with a bit of ice, then passed it off to Corrie, who handed it back to me. “There you go,” the girl said with a twinkle in her eye. “No charge.”