Delta Wedding

  "Oh, mercy—the bride's bouquet! We ought to look at it," Tempe said darkly, as Sammie got off to have breakfast with them.

  "Why?" asked India, appearing in her nightgown.

  "Just to be sure."

  India in a moment had the bouquet out, and held it up at arm's length over her head. "Are you sure, Aunt Tempe?"

  "We'll have to doctor it a little, just as I thought," Aunt Tempe said, "take out those common snapdragons. Vi'let! You can take Miss Dabney's bouquet and all these flower boxes to the spring-house, Vi'let, but keep their paper around them so not even your breath touches them."

  "Ain't they pretty?" Vi'let cried. "Oh. Oh!"

  "There's a ladybug on Dabney's," said Bluet, gazing up. She had come out in her nightgown too.

  "I bid it!" India went off with the ladybug on the back of her hand, Bluet following hopefully, asking the ladybug if the trip from Memphis wasn't simply smothering.

  ***

  In a little while here came bumping a wagon. 'It's the cake!" said Tempe clairvoyantly. It was the cake, in the tallest box yet from Memphis.

  "Now the cake will have to be lifted out by everybody, on the cutting board—there's no two ways about that, if you don't want a ruined toppling thing," said Aunt Mac with spirit.

  "One strong, sure-footed man might be the best," said Tempe, "I would think."

  "Go to grass," said Aunt Mac. Vi'let ran for the old cutting board in the attic, big as the head of a bed, and she, Howard, and Little Uncle began to get the cake on it and so down from the wagon. Old Man Treat, a passer-by who had driven the cake up specially for Miss Thelma at the post office, was not allowed to put in a word or move.

  "Mercy! Open it first!" cried Tempe. "So it won't rub off on the box! So we can see it!" They opened the box and stripped it back, like the petals of a flower. Mr. Treat looked over his shoulder. There it was, the tall white thing, shining before God in the light of day. It was a real fantasy! Only God knew if it was digestible.

  Ellen already held the door, and some of the girls in their nightgowns and kimonos came out watching.

  "It's leaning! It's leaning!" cried India, laughing and joining her hands.

  "It looks like the Leaning Tower of Pisa," said Shelley critically.

  "Well, it cost your father thirty-five dollars," Ellen told her. "It's no wonder it looks like something or other—do you think, Mr. Treat?" she threw in, for she remembered he was a distant cousin of the Reids.

  "Talk about spun sugar!" said Tempe. She gave a little smack. In her arms, forgotten, were the early-cut flowers from the yard. "I think they did real well, considering it was all done by telephone. Now did they forget the ring and thimble and all inside?"

  "That's something we won't know till the cake's cut and eaten," said Ellen. "That's too late to tell Memphis about."

  "I'm going to cut the ring!" sang India.

  "Who're you going to marry, child?" asked Aunt Tempe.

  "Dickie Boy Featherstone! No, Red Boyne."

  "Red hair!" cried Aunt Tempe exasperated. "What has happened to this clan? Don't you dare do it, India."

  "All my children will be ugly like Lady Clare."

  "And she upstairs with the chicken pox, shame," said Ellen. "Stand here by me, India."

  "There will be no holding Lady Clare when they're all in their dresses, I'm afraid," said Aunt Tempe, flinching now as she watched the cake actually being lifted down. "I'm not saying she won't fight her way to the wedding after all—you watch that cake, Howard! Do you know what'll happen to you if you drop that?"

  "Yes, ma'am. Dis cake not goin' drop—no'm."

  "That's what you say. You have to carry it straight up, too."

  "Little Uncle, you kind of go under—like that. Spread your arms out like a bird—now. That's grand, Little Uncle."

  "I'm a wreck," said Shelley. "I'm glad Dabney's not here watching. Oh, Croesus, I wish old Troy Flavin would just quit wanting to marry Dabney!"

  "Don't frown like that, you'll hurt your looks, Shelley. A fine time now, for Troy Flavin to do a thing like that," said Aunt Tempe. "You all set the cake where it's going to go, on the middle of the dining-room table. We'll just have to eat like scaries all day and not do any shaking or stamping."

  "Can you all tell the middle of the table?" asked Ellen anxiously as the cake went in the door. "You run in, India, and show them with your finger, right in the center of that lace rose that's the middle of Mashula's cloth. This was certainly nice of you, Mr. Treat. Run lightly, India, don't shake the house, from now on."

  George, coming downstairs, held still with his eye on the cake—it was crossing the hall. Howard, Vi'let, and Little Uncle with the cake coming in were meeting Bitsy and some of the field Negroes, Juju and Zell, carrying a long side-table out.

  "No collisions, I tell you!" cried Tempe, at the heels of the cake party.

  "You've got to find a level place in the yard to set that down now, Bitsy," said Ellen, in the voice of one who is not sure there are any level places in the Delta.

  "Yes, ma'am! Dis table goin' to go down in a level place."

  "Where's Robbie, Georgie?"

  "She's still asleep," said George, running down and kissing them. "All of you look beside yourselves!"

  "I think Robbie's going to sleep the day away! Like Dabney."

  "That's all right, she was good and tired," said Ellen.

  "Well! It looks like she could show some interest. After all, there's a wedding in the house!" Tempe said. George grinned and snapping off a Michaelmas daisy from her armful handed it to her.

  "Where's my pipe, girls?" he said.

  Bluet went in and woke up Dabney, carrying her coffee, with her sisters watching in the door. "Wake up, Dabney, it's your wedding day," she said carefully.

  "Oh!" Dabney sat bolt upright. She seized the cup and drank off the coffee. Then she fell back, pulling Bluet up in the bed with her. She pressed the little girl to her.

  "Precious! Precious!"

  They all laughed and came in, and saw that she got up. They brought her down to the table and made her eat her breakfast. They all sat down around her wedding cake.

  "It didn't break?" smiled Dabney, giving it a bright glance as she ate a plum. She and Shelley looked at each other, their kimono sleeves, pink and blue, fluttering together in the morning wind.

  "Oh!" exclaimed Tempe, rising from her breakfast and running to the window. "Lady Clare's out there talking to a mad dog!" She turned to George—and time was when he would have dashed out of the house to hear that, but not now. He smiled absently and ate a bite of his mackerel. Pattering out the door, Tempe sighed. She ran through the sun as she would run through a pounding rain, and took hold of Lady Clare, who was in her nightgown and all spots.

  "Don't you know strange dogs may be mad dogs?" she said, running in with her. "Probably are mad dogs. I fully expected something to happen to you, Lady Clare. A time like this and a house like this—!"

  The strange dog—mad or not, Lady Clare would never know—looked after their retreat and trotted off to the bayou bank.

  "How do I look, Aunt Ellen?" cried Laura, running into the parlor, where Ellen was getting the smilax hung. Mary Lamar, in a yellow kimono, was kneeling over the stool running her hands over the piano keys. Laura had on Lady Clare's flower-girl dress, without the petticoat. "Shelley's trying it on!"

  "Mercy, I see your knees. But Primrose can let out the hem for you in two shakes of a lamb's tail when she ever gets here."

  "Do I look like the flower girl?" asked Laura. "Shelley wants to know."

  "Mama, will she do?" called Shelley's voice from the upper regions. This was the callingest house! thought Laura anxiously.

  "You couldn't look more like one," Ellen said, and held her tight. "You'll have to put a little of Dabney's or Shelley's face powder over those old bites—where have you been?—and let somebody turn your hair over their finger, and you'll be splendid. Run back and tell Shelley to get the dress off you quick now. Would you
like your hair up on old rags all day?"

  "Oh, Aunt Ellen!"

  "All right, I'll tie you up myself. I wish you'd prevail on India to wear curls just for tonight. She won't let anybody touch her."

  "Mama used to curl my hair in curls," said Laura shyly. "Mary Lamar—what are you playing?" and she walked near the music, spreading her dress.

  "It's not always anything," said Mary Lamar in a soft voice. "I'm improvising."

  Up close, beautiful Mary Lamar's arm showed great covering freckles below the chiffon sleeve, her arms were leopard-like!

  "Well, Pinchy," said Dabney, frowning.

  There stood Pinchy in the dining room, swatting an old September fly. For a few days a creature of mystery, now that she had come through she was gawking and giggling like the rest.

  "You swat every fly, Pinchy. That's what you're for, now, this whole day," she said sternly.

  "I'll git 'em," said Pinchy.

  On the back porch, surrounded by fireless-cooker pots and cake pans of cut flowers, Shelley and Dabney were making shiny bows. Battle wandered out.

  "What are those made of, now?"

  "Material," said Dabney.

  Nobody else seemed to be around, except Ranny, who sat on the back steps motionless, looking at his father over a bright beard of what seemed also to be material.

  "Well, Dabney, little girl, I wanted to confer my blessing, my paternal blessing," Battle said rather heartily.

  "Two princess baskets of pink and white Maman Cochet roses, Miss Tessie at the icehouse sent up, Dabney," said Ellen, carrying them onto the porch. "She sent them over by twins."

  "Then it was every one she had," called Tempe's voice from within. Her brother looked in the direction of her voice as if in a moment he would comprehend Tempe.

  "Who sent these real late Cape jessamines—Miss Parnell Dortch?" Shelley leaned over and buried her face in them while Vi'let held them out.

  "Yes, Miss Parnell." Ellen whispered, "I don't know what we'll do with old Roxie's nasturtiums—little bitty short stems, look, they don't even peep over that shoe box. But it was every nasturtium Roxie had—she loves, Dabney."

  "We can float them in an old card tray. She'll be looking for them at the wedding," Shelley said.

  "She used to let me pick them, nasty-turtiums," said Dabney idly. "I'd pick them and eat them all the way from the stems up, when I was little."

  "Then you can eat these," said Ellen with a little laugh. She leaned on the door.

  "Come here and let me kiss you, puddin'," Battle said.

  But, "Look at Miss Bonnie Hitchcock's fern" groaned Shelley.

  Four little colored boys holding a tub balanced on the handle of a broom staggered up the back path. Tub, boys, and all were in the shade and glow of an enormous fern that tilted its weight over them and fluttered its fronds in every direction like a tree in a gale.

  "Mama! She sent that up for Aunt Annie Laurie's funeral!" Dabney said in an awe-struck voice.

  "We almost never got it back to her after that," Shelley said doubtfully. "Or did we?"

  "I don't want it where it was before," said Dabney.

  "Dabney!" Battle said. "Come kiss me."

  "It can go behind Jim Allen and India serving punch," said Ellen. "It will go fine there. It won't do anything but hide the china closet. If we could put it by the outdoor table! But that would hurt Miss Bonnie's feelings—it will have to come in the house."

  "Mama, I think it's so tacky the way Troy comes in from the side door," said Shelley all at once. "It's like somebody just walks in the house from the fields and marries Dabney."

  "You're sure you wouldn't rather have a trip to Europe than get married?" Battle remarked into the air off the porch. "Ranny, will you take off that beard, or stop looking at me?"

  Dabney ran to her father, the shiny material in hand, and laughed as his whispering lips tickled the nape of her neck. "Or go back to college?" he said.

  "Horrors, Papa," she said.

  "You don't have but one silver champagne bucket, I know that," said Tempe, stepping out dramatically from the kitchen. "Why didn't I think to bring you mine? It would have been no trouble in the world. Mercy!" she spoke to the fern, which was at the door.

  "It's grown, Mama!" said Dabney, leaning back as the fern went by, vibrating and seemingly under its own power, up the steps and across the back porch. Battle pinned her backwards against him and kissed the crown of her head.

  "Well, one thing," said Tempe in a low voice to Shelley, looking after the fern with a sigh of finality, "when people marry beneath them, it's the woman that determines what comes. It's the woman that coarsens the man. The man doesn't really do much to the woman, I've observed."

  "You mean Troy's not as bad for us as Robbie," whispered Shelley intently.

  "Exactly!"

  "Don't stop, don't stop! This way!" Ellen hurried ahead of the fern and led it into the house.

  "The crooks have come, the crooks have come!" cried Orrin, racing in. "Dabney, I brought your crooks! Watch!" He reached in Little Uncle's arms as Little Uncle ran up with yellow sticks everywhere, and began throwing them in the air like a juggler. All the children ran picking them up—each got one.

  "Orrin!"

  "I was watching for the Dog! I saw them take everything off, and I wanted to bring you the crooks ahead of everything, Dabney! Only I went in swimming a minute—I was on Junie—"

  "Oh, Orrin! Oh, I hate to go off and leave you and everybody!" Dabney kissed his smiling lips, and he untied her sash behind her.

  "Give me one," she said, looking at the running children. "Ranny, I want that one."

  "What's that old Bojo brought on the mule?" asked Ellen.

  "Aunt Primrose's cheese straws," said Shelley, rushing to lift the lid of the corset box. "From the secret recipe!"

  "I just have to have one," said Aunt Tempe, putting in her hand. "Excuse me, you all."

  Dabney took the box, laughing, and ran to the kitchen.

  Aunt Studney was in the kitchen taking a little coffee. Howard's little boy, Pleas, who was on the back porch twisting smilax on the altar, came stealing in behind Roxie and tried to look in Aunt Studney's sack. But Aunt Studney was up with a kettle off the stove and like lightning poured it over him, making him yell and run off as if the devil had him.

  "Why, Aunt Studney," said Dabney. "I wanted to invite you to my wedding!"

  "Ain't study in' you," said Aunt Studney. She lifted her coffee cup in her quick, horny hand that was bright pink inside, and drank. Then she was gone with her sack.

  Primrose and Jim Allen came up to Shellmound only in time to sit down to dinner, to Battle's teasing. And as it turned out, Primrose was making the chicken salad (which Roxie had luckily cut up for her), Ellen baking the beaten biscuit with Robbie (swallowed in a Fairchild apron) watching the pans, Tempe rolling out her cornucopias, and Roxie and Pinchy squeezing the fruit for the punch all in the kitchen together. Jim Allen had spent the morning making green and white mints, which they all declared were better than the Memphis mints, so she lay down and dozed a little on a bed.

  "Mr. Horace," Vi'let said, coming through the shade in the yard with more napkins dry enough to iron, "you standin' up pretty good." All Horace had to do was wash cars and shine them, and get his flashlight ready for tonight, make sure it would burn. Preacher, the Grove chauffeur, who thought yesterday he had better not try to carry so much as a paper lantern in his old age, never do anything except drive an electric automobile, felt younger today and said he would be glad to fish seeds out of cook's juice, give him a spoon. Some wagons loaded with planks came up in the yard and Howard was told to fix a dancing place as he saw fit, but hurry! out of an old landing Mr. Battle was sending up from the river. "Mr. Battle sure love doin' things at las' minute, don't he, Miss Ellen?" laughed Howard from the top of his ladder, making it sound attractive, even irresistible of Mr. Battle.

  "Don't you fall off that ladder, Howard, before you come down and nail those planks!
Dancing on the platform's what the lanterns are for."

  "No'm, I ain't goin' fall off dis ladder. Dance, yes, ma'am!"

  Laura heard behind the bathroom door sounds of great splashing, and in between the splashes Dabney's voice, talking to Bluet.

  "Now, Bluet, you mustn't ever brag."

  "What's brag?"

  Splash, splash.

  "And, Bluet, you mustn't ever tell a lie."

  "What's tell a lie?"

  Splash, splash.

  Laura banged on the door. "Let me in! I have to get ready too!"

  They let her in. There were all the girls—tall Shelley too, naked and splashing. And they had Ranny, so little and sweet still. There was water everywhere, even dotting the fireplace like beads on a forehead. Bluet was in the center of the big pedestaled bathtub and they were squeezing washrags over her and putting soap on her hands, which she stuck forward for them. Bluet, her long hair pinned up in a topknot, was very serious today, at the same time slithering like a fish.

  "And, Bluet," said Laura comfortably, "you mustn't ever steal."

  "Don't you tell me," said Bluet gently, "just Dabney," and they all dashed her with water.

  Finally, people began to come out in the halls or downstairs dressed. "Orrin! You look like a man!" cried Ellen. "Oh, the idea!"

  "Mr. Ranny growin' up too, in case nobody know it," said Roxie. "Miss Ellen, did you know? That little booger every mornin' befo' six o'clock holler out de window fo' me. 'Roxie! I need my coffee!' and make me come right up."

  "The idea!" said Ellen.

  When the clock struck for seven, Laura in the flower-girl dress brought the pipe out of the hat and stood in the decorated hall with it until she saw George come through there. She followed him and confronted him at the water cooler on the back porch. Lizards were frolicking and scratching on the wire outside, being gazed at from inside by the old cat Beverley. Nobody else was around.