movements were quick and efficient; she merely pressed two buttons. The number is on speed dial, and I knew exactly what she’d done. A moment later, when Joseph answered the phone, I lost my resolve, and it was all I could do to make my way back to the couch.
For the next hour or so, I sat beneath the lamp, the biography of Roosevelt open in my lap.
Though she’d asked me to call the guests, after hanging up with Joseph, Jane made a few calls to those who were closest to the family. I understood her eagerness, but it left us in separate worlds until after nine, and I came to the conclusion that unrealized hopes, even small ones, were always wrenching. When Jane finished, I tried to catch her eye. Instead of joining me on the couch, she retrieved a bag from the table by the front door, one I hadn’t noticed she’d brought in.
“I picked these up for Anna on the way home,” she said, waving a couple of bridal magazines, “but before I give them to her, I want to have a chance to look through them first.”
I forced a smile, knowing the rest of the evening would be lost. “Good idea,” I said.
As we settled into silence—me on the couch, Jane in the recliner—I found my gaze drawn surreptitiously toward her. Her eyes flickered as she looked from one gown to the next; I saw her crease the corners of various pages. Her eyes, like mine, are not as strong as they once were, and I noticed that she had to crane her neck back, as if looking down her nose to see more clearly. Every now and then, I heard her whisper something, an understated exclamation, and I knew she was picturing Anna wearing whatever was on the page.
Watching her expressive face, I marveled at the fact that at one time or another, I’d kissed every part of it. I’ve never loved anyone but you, I wanted to say, but common sense prevailed, reminding me that it would be better to save those words for another time, when I had her full attention and the words might be reciprocated.
As the evening wore on, I continued to watch her while pretending to read my book. I could do this all night, I thought, but weariness set in, and I was certain that Jane would stay awake for at least another hour. The creased pages would call to her if she didn’t look at them a second time, and she had yet to make her way through both magazines.
“Jane?” I said.
“Mmm?” she answered automatically.
“I have an idea.”
“About what?” She continued staring at the page.
“Where we should hold the wedding.”
My words finally registered and she looked up.
“It might not be perfect, but I’m sure it would be available,” I said. “It’s outside and there’s plenty of parking. And there’re flowers, too. Thousands of flowers.”
“Where?”
I hesitated.
“At Noah’s house,” I said. “Under the trellis by the roses.”
Jane’s mouth opened and closed; she blinked rapidly, as if clearing her sight.
But then, ever so slowly, she began to smile.
Chapter Six
In the morning, I made arrangements for the tuxedos and began making calls to friends and neighbors on Anna’s guest list, receiving mostly the answers I expected.
Of course we’ll be there, one couple said. We wouldn’t miss it for the world, said another. Though the calls were friendly, I didn’t linger on the phone and was finished well before
noon
.
Jane and Anna had gone in search of flowers for the bouquets; later in the afternoon, they planned to swing by Noah’s house. With hours to go until we were supposed to meet, I decided to drive to Creekside. On the way, I picked up three loaves of Wonder Bread from the grocery store.
As I drove, my thoughts drifted to Noah’s house and my first visit there a long time ago.
Jane and I had been dating for six months before she brought me home to visit. She’d graduated from Meredith in June, and after the ceremony, she rode in my car as we followed her parents back to New Bern . Jane was the oldest of her
For the next hour or so, I sat beneath the lamp, the biography of Roosevelt open in my lap.
Though she’d asked me to call the guests, after hanging up with Joseph, Jane made a few calls to those who were closest to the family. I understood her eagerness, but it left us in separate worlds until after nine, and I came to the conclusion that unrealized hopes, even small ones, were always wrenching. When Jane finished, I tried to catch her eye. Instead of joining me on the couch, she retrieved a bag from the table by the front door, one I hadn’t noticed she’d brought in.
“I picked these up for Anna on the way home,” she said, waving a couple of bridal magazines, “but before I give them to her, I want to have a chance to look through them first.”
I forced a smile, knowing the rest of the evening would be lost. “Good idea,” I said.
As we settled into silence—me on the couch, Jane in the recliner—I found my gaze drawn surreptitiously toward her. Her eyes flickered as she looked from one gown to the next; I saw her crease the corners of various pages. Her eyes, like mine, are not as strong as they once were, and I noticed that she had to crane her neck back, as if looking down her nose to see more clearly. Every now and then, I heard her whisper something, an understated exclamation, and I knew she was picturing Anna wearing whatever was on the page.
Watching her expressive face, I marveled at the fact that at one time or another, I’d kissed every part of it. I’ve never loved anyone but you, I wanted to say, but common sense prevailed, reminding me that it would be better to save those words for another time, when I had her full attention and the words might be reciprocated.
As the evening wore on, I continued to watch her while pretending to read my book. I could do this all night, I thought, but weariness set in, and I was certain that Jane would stay awake for at least another hour. The creased pages would call to her if she didn’t look at them a second time, and she had yet to make her way through both magazines.
“Jane?” I said.
“Mmm?” she answered automatically.
“I have an idea.”
“About what?” She continued staring at the page.
“Where we should hold the wedding.”
My words finally registered and she looked up.
“It might not be perfect, but I’m sure it would be available,” I said. “It’s outside and there’s plenty of parking. And there’re flowers, too. Thousands of flowers.”
“Where?”
I hesitated.
“At Noah’s house,” I said. “Under the trellis by the roses.”
Jane’s mouth opened and closed; she blinked rapidly, as if clearing her sight.
But then, ever so slowly, she began to smile.
Chapter Six
In the morning, I made arrangements for the tuxedos and began making calls to friends and neighbors on Anna’s guest list, receiving mostly the answers I expected.
Of course we’ll be there, one couple said. We wouldn’t miss it for the world, said another. Though the calls were friendly, I didn’t linger on the phone and was finished well before
noon
.
Jane and Anna had gone in search of flowers for the bouquets; later in the afternoon, they planned to swing by Noah’s house. With hours to go until we were supposed to meet, I decided to drive to Creekside. On the way, I picked up three loaves of Wonder Bread from the grocery store.
As I drove, my thoughts drifted to Noah’s house and my first visit there a long time ago.
Jane and I had been dating for six months before she brought me home to visit. She’d graduated from Meredith in June, and after the ceremony, she rode in my car as we followed her parents back to New Bern . Jane was the oldest of her
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