broke down and rummaged through her purse for a hanky, as I put my
arm around her and consoled her.
“Now, now. I think I may have enough to
stay in a hotel,” I comforted.
“But you can’t afford separate rooms,” she
sniffled, knowingly ignorant of how much cash I had wadded in my pocket. “What
will people think ?” she sobbed, as though the thought of folks
questioning her virtue tortured her. I was about to lead her away before she
became an absolute wreck, when I saw Mr. Lawrence looking positively guilty
about the atrocity he’d unwittingly committed. Ellen saw it, too, through her
downpour of sorrow, and went for the jugular.
“Mr. Lawrence,” she supplicated, wiping her
eyes, “can you please do us this one favor? Please? It needn’t take long, and
we’d fondly remember your thoughtful kindness throughout our marriage.” She
articulated with an imploring earnestness that would have dissolved the most
calcified heart.
I watched, amazed, as the callous Mr.
Lawrence appeared ill at ease, his face betraying his shame.
“Well, uh, well, I guess it needn’t take
that long,” he parroted, trying to sound gruff, but succeeding only in sounding
strange.
He got off the swing and mutely walked
toward the door, rolling up his paper as he went. For most of the exchange, I
had been as duped as the Justice had been. Only near the end of Ellen’s
brilliant, manipulative charade had I finally caught on. I was still trying to
digest it all when Ellen prodded me to follow Mr. Lawrence. I looked at her,
and her tearless face split with a triumphant smile. She stuck out her tongue
at the oblivious Justice, and I had to disguise a laugh with a cough.
So, after taking a minute to recruit his
wife and son to stand in as witnesses, the good Mr. Lawrence married us in
short order. I think the whole thing moved along too quickly for Ellen or me to
have any sober second thoughts.
Before we left, I attempted to tip him out
of gratitude for his about-face, but he refused, rightly saying, “You need it
more than me,” and he then did his unenthusiastic version of wishing us well.
Ellen smiled and sweetly said, “Thank you,
you’re such a dear,” and I’d swear he reddened a little and his face
brightened.
As we breezed out the door, hand in sweaty
hand, I thought to myself that the old buzzard would probably still be sitting
on the porch, reading his paper, if we hadn’t interrupted.
We fairly ran to the car, and Ellen slid in
from my side. I slid in beside her, and we sat, staring into each other’s eyes
from inches away. We both burst out laughing.
“Mrs. Mattox, you are one sexy fox!” I
teased, trying to catch my breath in vain, because she invaded my mouth with
her lips and tongue, thoroughly convincing me that asphyxiation of this sort
was an invigorating way to die. When I finally came up for air, I laughed and
told Ellen, “If I don’t stop now, we’re going to have to tell our first child
he was conceived on Justice of the Peace Lawrence’s driveway, with Mr. Lawrence
himself glaring with righteous horror out the bay window!” A face had briefly
peered from behind the curtains, and I wondered whether he was waiting for us
to leave so he could resume his reading outside.
As we left, I looked over at Ellen. She was
so stunning, and I felt that sweet aching that love is. I felt the kind of love
that stirs and swells in you, corks your throat up tight, and pushes tears to
the corners of your eyes.
“I love you.” I snuck the words past the
cork in my throat. She turned to face me, her eyes glistening with dewy tears.
Her lips trembled happily.
“I love you, too, Robbie,” she said, freely
letting the tears chase each other down her face. It wasn’t a charade this
time.
Since we’d decided to spend our honeymoon
camping, and had no provisions and a limited amount of gear packed, we had to
make a stop at a general store to pick up some necessary supplies. I couldn’t
expect my new bride
arm around her and consoled her.
“Now, now. I think I may have enough to
stay in a hotel,” I comforted.
“But you can’t afford separate rooms,” she
sniffled, knowingly ignorant of how much cash I had wadded in my pocket. “What
will people think ?” she sobbed, as though the thought of folks
questioning her virtue tortured her. I was about to lead her away before she
became an absolute wreck, when I saw Mr. Lawrence looking positively guilty
about the atrocity he’d unwittingly committed. Ellen saw it, too, through her
downpour of sorrow, and went for the jugular.
“Mr. Lawrence,” she supplicated, wiping her
eyes, “can you please do us this one favor? Please? It needn’t take long, and
we’d fondly remember your thoughtful kindness throughout our marriage.” She
articulated with an imploring earnestness that would have dissolved the most
calcified heart.
I watched, amazed, as the callous Mr.
Lawrence appeared ill at ease, his face betraying his shame.
“Well, uh, well, I guess it needn’t take
that long,” he parroted, trying to sound gruff, but succeeding only in sounding
strange.
He got off the swing and mutely walked
toward the door, rolling up his paper as he went. For most of the exchange, I
had been as duped as the Justice had been. Only near the end of Ellen’s
brilliant, manipulative charade had I finally caught on. I was still trying to
digest it all when Ellen prodded me to follow Mr. Lawrence. I looked at her,
and her tearless face split with a triumphant smile. She stuck out her tongue
at the oblivious Justice, and I had to disguise a laugh with a cough.
So, after taking a minute to recruit his
wife and son to stand in as witnesses, the good Mr. Lawrence married us in
short order. I think the whole thing moved along too quickly for Ellen or me to
have any sober second thoughts.
Before we left, I attempted to tip him out
of gratitude for his about-face, but he refused, rightly saying, “You need it
more than me,” and he then did his unenthusiastic version of wishing us well.
Ellen smiled and sweetly said, “Thank you,
you’re such a dear,” and I’d swear he reddened a little and his face
brightened.
As we breezed out the door, hand in sweaty
hand, I thought to myself that the old buzzard would probably still be sitting
on the porch, reading his paper, if we hadn’t interrupted.
We fairly ran to the car, and Ellen slid in
from my side. I slid in beside her, and we sat, staring into each other’s eyes
from inches away. We both burst out laughing.
“Mrs. Mattox, you are one sexy fox!” I
teased, trying to catch my breath in vain, because she invaded my mouth with
her lips and tongue, thoroughly convincing me that asphyxiation of this sort
was an invigorating way to die. When I finally came up for air, I laughed and
told Ellen, “If I don’t stop now, we’re going to have to tell our first child
he was conceived on Justice of the Peace Lawrence’s driveway, with Mr. Lawrence
himself glaring with righteous horror out the bay window!” A face had briefly
peered from behind the curtains, and I wondered whether he was waiting for us
to leave so he could resume his reading outside.
As we left, I looked over at Ellen. She was
so stunning, and I felt that sweet aching that love is. I felt the kind of love
that stirs and swells in you, corks your throat up tight, and pushes tears to
the corners of your eyes.
“I love you.” I snuck the words past the
cork in my throat. She turned to face me, her eyes glistening with dewy tears.
Her lips trembled happily.
“I love you, too, Robbie,” she said, freely
letting the tears chase each other down her face. It wasn’t a charade this
time.
Since we’d decided to spend our honeymoon
camping, and had no provisions and a limited amount of gear packed, we had to
make a stop at a general store to pick up some necessary supplies. I couldn’t
expect my new bride
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