Every Bride Needs a Groom (26 page)

My plan is to have a theatre in some small town or something and I'll be manager. I'll be the crazy old movie guy.

Quentin Tarantino

I
couldn't say which shocked me more—seeing Aunt Alva or seeing Brady. Not that I was unhappy to see either, mind you. Just stunned.

The moment Queenie laid eyes on her sister, she stopped unwrapping the gift and froze in place, eyes wide.

Pop rose and moved toward his aunt, then swept her into his arms. “Well, as I live and breathe. So good to see you, Alva. Wonderful of you to come. God bless you for that.”

This got a “humph” from Queenie, who went back to her gift.

“I'd know this face anywhere.” Pop gestured to Brady. “One of my favorite basketball players ever.”

“Thank you, sir.” Brady smiled, but I could tell he was a little nervous.

I rose and made introductions. Pop seemed pretty flabbergasted to find one of his favorite Mavericks players standing next to him at Sam's. Across the room, a couple of other customers whispered to one another as they stared at Brady.

“It's so nice to meet you, sir.” Brady extended his hand.

My father shook it and then looked at me. Then back at Brady. “I'm sorry . . . where did you say you two met?”

“My mom owns a store in Dallas,” Brady said. “Katie is . . .” He gazed at me with tenderness in his eyes. “A customer.”

“A customer.” Pop looked at Brady. “Our family owns a store too. Hardware. What sort do you have?” Brady had just opened his mouth to respond when Pop interrupted him. “Let's pull up a couple of chairs. You two hungry?”

“Starving.” Alva nodded. “Haven't had Sam's barbecue in years.”

Pop, God bless him, put Alva and Brady on the far side of the table from Queenie.

Alva shifted her gaze to the table, where Queenie continued to work on the gift from Mama. “Hope you don't mind that we've come without an invitation.”

“Oh, they had an invitation.” I flashed a warm smile. “From me.”

Another “humph” followed from Queenie.

When my aunt lit into a lively conversation with Twiggy, Dahlia, and Crystal, Mama looked aghast.

“You know these gals, Alva?” she asked.

“Well, sure. We're all friends. People in the city are very friendly, you know. Not like here.”

This garnered another grunt from Queenie, who'd managed to get the gift from Mama opened at last. It turned out to be a devotional about the power of positive speaking. Ironic.

From across the table Brady looked my way and shrugged. I did my best not to let the joy on my face show, but Mama must've picked up on it. She gave me one of those “we're going to talk about this later” looks.

He offered to fix Alva's plate and disappeared to the buffet. I caught up with him in front of the barbecue.

“I can't believe you're here,” I said.

“Me either. Alva called me right after you left. Said she'd had a change of heart. But she knew she couldn't drive all this way, so she asked me to play the role of chauffeur.”

“You've been doing a lot of role-playing lately.”

“No.” He smiled. “Not role-playing at all. It's the real deal, every bit of it. And I'm glad to be here.”

He might not have been so glad a minute or so later when the locals swarmed him, asking for autographs. After delivering my aunt's plate to the table, he graciously signed all sorts of things—from menus to church bulletins. By the time he arrived at the table with his own food, my aunt was nearly done eating.

Brady took a seat and gave me a little wink. Alva must've picked up on this and smiled at me. Then she looked at my mother. “Marie, you look even younger than the last time I saw you.”

Mama looked stunned by this, but a smile turned up the edges of her lips. “Well, thank you, Alva. That's very sweet.”

“It's the hair. Why, you look just like Diane Keaton in that movie she did with Jack Nicholson.”

“That's what Katie said when she saw my new do.” Mama
fussed with her hair and then reached into her purse for her lipstick compact. “Maybe I'll keep this hairdo after all.”

“Katie's a smart girl.” Alva winked at me. “Pretty sure it runs in the family.”

“Lots of great things run in the family,” Pop said. “Right, Mama?”

He looked at Queenie, who never lifted her gaze from the pile of presents in front of her. She'd opened them all and looked as if she wanted to bolt.

I had a flashback to a particular Friday night when I'd gathered around the table with my family at Sam's. This very table, in fact. My brother had joked about hernias and hemorrhoids that evening. I'd dreamed of a day when I'd grow old with a fella who didn't mind such bizarre conversations around the dinner table. Now here we sat—Brady James and the whole Fisher clan. Strange.

A few minutes later we wrapped up the party—if one could call it a party—and my brothers headed out with the girls. Mama had somehow coerced them all into going back to our house for coffee and birthday cake. Pop carried Queenie's gifts out to her car and she followed on his heels, still not speaking to her sister. I found myself alone with Alva and Brady.

“Well, that was awkward.” Alva's nose wrinkled. “Sorry, kiddo. I thought maybe the timing was right.”

“No, it's my fault. I'm the one who encouraged you to come. Queenie is just so . . .”

“Stubborn. Always has been.” Alva shrugged. “Runs in the family.”

We walked out to the parking lot, where Pop was still loading presents in the back of Queenie's car.

I looked at Alva and released a breath. “What do you say we nip this in the bud, once and for all?”

“You think?” She looked nervous.

“This is as good a place as any.” I looked up at Brady for some encouragement, and he gave me a confident smile.

“You ladies do the talking. I'll do the praying.”

“He's closer to heaven all the way up there.” Alva gave a slight chuckle. “Okay. Let's get this over with.”

We walked over to Queenie's car just as Pop opened the front door for her. My grandmother glared at me as we drew near, as if to say, “Back off, people.”

I didn't back off. Neither did Alva, who stood to my left.

“Queenie, we need to talk, and I think it's better done before we get to the house.”

“No talking necessary,” she said.

“Queenie, please . . .” Alva's voice sounded shaky. “Can't we just say a few words?”

“Nothing to say.”

“But you two used to be really close.” I posed this more as a question than a statement, but I could tell Alva was a nervous wreck.

“We were.” Alva nodded. “Very close.”

“And then?” I asked.

My aunt's eyes misted over. “And then . . . life happened.”

“Life happened?” Queenie finally looked at us. She rolled her eyes. “
You
happened. Life didn't happen.”

“Queenie . . .” A lone tear trickled down my aunt's wrinkly cheek.

“Conversation ended, please and thank you.” Queenie turned the car on.

“Oh no you don't.” My father, never one to argue with his mother, reached inside the car and turned it off. “We're going to deal with this right now, Mama, whether you want to or not.”

“Humph.”

“Jealousies are jealousies,” he said, “but sisterly love lasts forever.”

“Sisterly love?” Queenie huffed. “Don't talk to me about sisterly love.” She looked over at Alva, her eyes brimming with tears. “All these years, and you come back now? Why?”

“Because I love you.”

“Love? Where was your love five years ago when I had my gallbladder out? I was sick in the hospital and you didn't come see me.”

“I had surgery on my knee six months ago and you didn't even pick up the phone,” Alva countered.

“I lost my husband and you didn't so much as send me a note or card.”

A painful silence hung over us at that proclamation.

“I . . . I didn't know what to say.” Alva's gaze shifted downward.

“Wait.” I put my hand up. “This could go on for hours. Point is, you two haven't spoken in years. We get that. What I want to know is, why? Can you just get to the root of the problem, deal with it, and move on?”

“She. Knows. Why.” Queenie's jaw clenched.

“And I told you back then that I was sorry. You wouldn't have it. You've never had it.” Alva pointed an arthritic finger at her younger sister. “You've never forgiven me, and it's eaten you alive all these years.”

“Time to get things out in the open,” I said.

My grandmother gave me a warning look, but I wouldn't be shushed. We'd spent too many years in this family keeping things under wraps.

“Confession is good for the soul,” I said. “So c'mon, Queenie. Why can't you let go of what happened all those years ago?”

She shook her head. “If Alva wants to tell you, she can. I . . . I just . . . can't.” My grandmother paled and looked as if she might be sick.

“Queenie?”

She leaned forward and gripped the steering wheel, her breathing unsteady.

“Mama? You okay?” Pop leaned in the car. “Are you getting overheated?” He reached around her and put the key in the ignition.

“I'm . . . I'm not feeling well.”

“Queenie, I'm so sorry,” Alva said. “Really, truly sorry.”

My grandmother nodded and then slumped over the steering wheel. My heart rate doubled as I called out her name and then turned to Brady.

“Call 9-1-1!”

I tossed him my phone. Queenie lay completely still. Alva crouched over her, tears flowing.

“Sister!” she called out. “Sister, look at me. You wake up right this minute!”

“I don't think she can, Alva.” My father checked his mother's pulse. “Everyone back away. She needs air.”

“But she needs me,” Alva said. “I've never been here for her.” Her voice elevated. “But I'm here now, Queenie. I'm here now.”

“She's got a pulse. I think she just passed out.” Pop pointed the air vents at her. “I pray that's all it is.”

Several minutes passed, but they felt more like hours. The wail of a siren in the background eventually alerted me to the fact that the ambulance had arrived. Less than a minute later a young paramedic was working on my grandmother. Pop made a quick call to Mama, who turned her car around and headed back to Sam's with my brothers and the girls right behind her.

“What happened?” the paramedic asked as he checked her pulse.

“She was in the middle of an argument with me,” Alva said.

“Next thing you know, she was having trouble breathing,” Pop said. “Then she passed out.”

“Was she in pain?” The paramedic listened with his stethoscope to Queenie's chest.

“I . . . I don't know.” Pop shook his head.

About the time Mama and the others arrived, the paramedics had Queenie loaded up on a stretcher. We all gathered around her in a circle. If there was one thing we Baptists knew how to do, it was pray.

Turned out the Presbyterians were pretty good at praying too. Reverend Bradford showed up at that very moment. He rushed to my grandmother's side. “Queenie? Queenie, I'm here. Hang on now, you hear me? Hang on.”

She seemed to rally at the sound of his voice and gave a slight nod. Still, her eyes never opened.

“What happened here?” He looked at Alva and his eyes widened.

“It's my fault.” Alva began to cry in earnest now. “Everything is always my fault.”

“No. No one is pointing fingers,” Reverend Bradford said. “Right now, the only one we need to be focusing on is Queenie. So let's pray.”

The Presbyterians and Baptists all joined hands in a circle and prayed the house down. Er, the parking lot. Reverend Bradford apparently had a slightly charismatic edge to his praying that seemed to get Mama more emotional than ever. Her tears flowed as he interceded on my grandmother's behalf.

And when Brother Kennedy, a local Pentecostal deacon, joined in, we really had a prayer meeting. We didn't get a lot
of “Amen!” and “Hallelujah!” action in the Baptist church, but I certainly didn't mind it today, not with my grandmother's life hanging in the balance.

By the time we finished, I had no doubt in my mind the Lord had heard our multi-denominational prayer. I had a feeling Queenie had heard it too, based on the half smile that appeared on her lips as they lifted the stretcher into the ambulance.

“Is she coming to?” Mama asked.

The paramedic nodded. “I think so, but let's keep her calm, okay? Not saying you folks shouldn't pray, but that was a little loud.”

I watched as my grandmother disappeared into the ambulance, then I felt Brady's arms slip around me. Nestling into his comforting embrace, I wept.

“She's going to be okay, Katie. I just know it.”

I nodded and gazed up into his eyes filled with compassion. In that moment, I knew he was right. She was going to be okay. In fact, everything was going to be okay.

There are things about growing up in a small town that you can't necessarily quantify.

Brandon Routh

T
he whole incident with Queenie shook me up so badly that Brady offered to drive me to the hospital. My parents and Alva followed behind us. Then came the various boys and their respective girls, who'd all decided to stay until we knew for sure that Queenie was okay.

Turned out she was.

It took Doc Henderson a few hours to come to his conclusion, but he shared the news sometime around midnight. “It wasn't a heart attack, folks. Just a case of angina, possibly
brought on by stress. Has she gone through anything stressful today?”

“You could say that twice and mean it.” Pop sighed. “Yes, she's had a stressful day.”

“My fault,” Alva whispered, her eyes flooding for the hundredth time. “Always my fault.”

“
Not
your fault,” Reverend Bradford said. He turned to the doctor to ask if he could go into the room to visit with Queenie and was told to keep the visit short. Seconds later he disappeared.

Pop shook his head. “It'll be interesting to see how that one pans out.”

“Well, we've got her on medication that will keep her very calm while she's here.” The doctor turned to look at Brady. “Don't I know you?”

“This is Brady James.” Pop squared his shoulders and made the introduction, clearly proud to be doing so.

“I thought so.” Doc Henderson chuckled. “Hey, how's the knee?”

Brady shrugged. “It's on the mend. Had my first surgery four months ago. They're talking about a second one, but I'm not sure yet when that will be.”

“Take it slow and easy,” Doc Henderson said. “I've known many a knee surgery that didn't take because the patient tried to move too quickly. Tricky business, these knee problems.”

“Try telling that to my agent.” Brady rolled his eyes.

“Give me his number and I'll be glad to.” The doctor nodded and then faced my dad. “Now, about your mom. I'll probably release her tomorrow afternoon. I like to give these things time—usually twenty-four hours or so. But when she goes home it'll have to be to a stress-free environment.”

“Guess that means I'll be going back home,” Alva said.

“No way.” I rose and walked over to take the seat next to her. “You're coming back to our place, Aunt Alva.”

“I insist,” Mama added.

“But Brady . . .” She gave him a hesitant look. “He came all this way just for me.”

“And I want to stay until I know for sure Queenie's okay.” He glanced at me. “Is that all right?”

“Of course.” Relief flooded over me at this declaration.

“I saw a hotel up near the freeway. I'll stay there.”

“You'll do no such thing,” Mama said. “You should come to our place.”

“I don't think there's room, Marie,” Pop said.

“Well, let's do this. I'll send all of the boys—you included, Brady—to Queenie's place. And the girls”—she glanced at Dahlia, Twiggy, and Crystal—“can stay with us.”

Beau looked at her with widened eyes. Likely he thought our mother would murder Twiggy in her sleep. “You sure, Mama?”

“I'm sure, baby boy. We all need some rest, and it's too late for anyone to be driving back to Dallas tonight. The girls and I will get along just fine, I promise.”

Everyone stood at the same time, several in attendance yawning.

“Madge is gonna have her hands full tomorrow if none of us show up for work.” Dahlia slipped her arm around Dewey's waist. “But I'd hate to leave until I know for sure your grandmother is okay.”

“I'm happy you're staying.” He planted a kiss in her hair. Mama watched this from a distance and then announced that she was heading back home.

Brady took me back to my car, and I gave him instructions for how to get to Queenie's house. Before we parted ways, he pulled me close and gave me a little kiss on the cheek. “I'm praying for her, Katie.”

“I'm grateful.” The words were more than just a platitude. Knowing that he was praying for my grandmother meant everything to me.

When I got back to my house, I saw that Mama had already settled our guests in the various bedrooms and the boys were nowhere to be found. I tumbled into bed and slept like a rock. When I awoke the next morning I found Mama and Pop in the kitchen, visiting with Dahlia, Twiggy, and Crystal. Turned out Mama and Crystal both liked to cook. And when my mother plopped a huge stack of pancakes down in front of Twiggy, she never said a word about gluten. Instead, she just dove right in, a delirious smile on her face.

“We'll get 'er fattened up yet,” Mama whispered. “Then just see if my baby boy finds her so beautiful.”

I rolled my eyes but said nothing. What would be the point?

Afterward we headed up to the hospital, and the boys met us there. My heart did that usual pitter-pat thing that it always did when I saw Brady. He smiled and extended his arms. I gave him a warm hug.

The three girls said their hellos and goodbyes pretty quickly, then Dewey announced that he was driving them all back to Dallas. Jasper and Beau offered to go to Queenie's house to pick up a change of clothes. I had just stepped out of my grandmother's room to say goodbye to everyone when I saw a familiar face. Bessie May. She came tearing around the corner, fear in her eyes.

“Katie Sue! I'm so glad you're here. How's Queenie?”

“Better,” I said.

She grabbed my hand. “Your father says there's a pro basketball player in Queenie's hospital room.”

“That's right.”

“
Why
is there a pro basketball player in her hospital room?
Don't you find that odd? The woman never watched a basketball game in her life, other than the ones at the high school, and she wasn't terribly fond of those. In fact, she's not fond of sports at all.”

“True. It's kind of a long story, Bessie May.”

“I have plenty of time for a long story. I always get a little dizzy when I go into hospital rooms, so I'll just sit right here and you can tell me all about it.”

“Isn't this Saturday? Don't you have a rummage sale at the church this morning?”

Her eyes widened and she gasped. “For pity's sake! Yes!” She rushed into the room to say hello to Queenie, then quickly tore out the door, headed to the church.

“She's very fast for someone her age,” Brady observed as I came back into the room. “Was she a ball player in a former life?”

“Hardly. The woman knows nothing about sports, as was probably evidenced by the fact that she didn't know who you were. Er, are.”

We visited with my grandmother for a while. She seemed genuinely embarrassed that people had created such a fuss. On and on she went, talking about what a goober she felt like. Until Mama happened to mention that Alva had spent the night at our place.

“O-oh?” Queenie sat up a little straighter in the bed. “Is she still there now?”

“Yes, she's resting up. I think last night was harder on her than she wanted to admit.”

“Ah.” Queenie shook her head. “Well, how's the weather out there?”

Nice diversion.

My father glanced at his watch a couple of times, and
Queenie finally took the hint. “I know what you're fretting about, Herb. Just go open the store. It won't hurt my feelings in the slightest. I'm about ready for a nap anyway.” She yawned to prove her point.

“Well, if you're sure, Mama.” My father stood and walked over to his mother's bed and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Glad you're going to be okay. You gave us quite a scare.”

“Sure didn't mean to.” My grandmother shrugged. “Now, get on out of here. You've got work to do. They're gonna spring me loose soon, so I'll call you when I need to hitch a ride.”

My father nodded and then said his goodbyes. The rest of us decided to leave a short while later when Queenie dozed off. No point in sitting there staring at a sleeping woman.

“Want to go to Dairy Queen for lunch?” I asked Brady.

“Dairy Queen?” He stretched and glanced at his watch. “Haven't been to one of those in ages.”

“Well, you don't know what you're missing. If we leave now, we can get there before the lunch crowd.”

“Sounds great.”

We stepped outside of my grandmother's room, and I gasped when I saw an old friend in the hallway. He was approaching with a concerned look on his face.

“Levi Nash.”

His handsome face lit with recognition when he saw me. “Katie. I just stopped by to check on your grandmother. We've been praying for her. How's she doing?”

“Better, actually. I heard you were going to be coming back to Fairfield for the summer. It's good to see you.”

Levi's attention shifted to Brady and he smiled. “Well, I guess the rumors are true. I heard there had been a sighting of Brady James.” He stuck out his hand.

“In the flesh.” Brady shook Levi's hand.

“Good to meet you.” Levi turned back to me, which made me feel honored. Most folks made such a big deal about Brady that they hardly seemed to take notice of me. “To answer your question, I'll be back and forth from Dallas to Fairfield. I'm interning at the church, but I'm still leading a Bible study on campus in Dallas too.”

“That's wonderful.”

“I think my mom's glad to have me home, even if it is just for the summer.”

“The WOP-pers are glad too.”

“Those WOP-pers.” He laughed. “They're something else. They sure prayed me back from a rough place. I'm thankful for that.”

“You seem so happy, Levi,” I observed. “Peaceful.”

“Does it show?” He grinned. “Still can't believe I'm the same guy.”

“You're not, actually.”

“Guess you're right. My whole world has changed.”

“It's obvious. This new life seems to really agree with you.”

“Thanks. I'm just so grateful.” He turned to give Brady a nod. “Great to meet you. Think I'll go in and visit Queenie now.”

“She's asleep,” I said. “So you might need to wait a bit.”

“No I'm not.” Queenie's voice rang out from inside the room. “All that chattering outside has me wide awake again.”

I clamped a hand over my mouth. “Oops.”

“Send that boy in here,” she said. “I need some Levi time.”

He laughed and stepped inside the room with a wave of his hand.

“He seems like a great guy.” Brady slipped his arm over my shoulders as we walked down the hospital corridor together.

“My mother wanted me to marry him,” I said.

Brady stopped and looked at me. “Wait . . . she wanted you to marry Levi? Or Casey?”

“Levi.” I laughed. “It's complicated.”

“Well, do me a favor and don't marry either one.” He gave me a little wink and pulled me close.

I agreed, without any hesitation at all.

Less than five minutes later we pulled into the parking lot at Dairy Queen. As I stared through the plate-glass windows, I had a flashback to a day not so many weeks ago when I'd sat in this very same place, ready to go inside to meet Casey for an Oreo Blizzard. It felt like a million years ago.

Or not.

Brady and I stepped inside the restaurant, and I thought my heart was going to sail right out of my throat when I saw Casey sitting with a couple of his friends in our old booth.

Oh. Help.

“You ready to order?” Brady turned his attention to the menu. “I'm starving.”

“Mm-hmm.”

He ordered a burger and I got the chicken fingers basket, then we headed to a table near the back. As we passed by Casey, he glanced up at me, his eyes widening. They grew even wider when he saw Brady. I gave him a little nod and kept walking, but I felt like I might faint.

“You okay?” Brady asked. “You look like you're not feeling well all of a sudden.”

“Yeah. I'll explain when we get to the table.”

I didn't get a chance to explain. The other patrons at Dairy Queen gathered around us, gushing over Brady like a celebrity. He took it in stride, but I could tell he really wanted to just fade into the woodwork. Or eat a cheeseburger in peace.

We did manage to eat . . . finally. “You sure you're okay over there?” he asked after several moments of silence on my part.

“Yeah. I, um . . . there's someone here that . . . well . . .”

“Someone in Dairy Queen?” He looked around at the various booths, stopping when he got to Casey's. I didn't have to explain, because Casey was staring at us as if he wanted to take Brady down. I had the strangest feeling it would only be a matter of time before the Oreos hit the fan.