Forever Friday (16 page)

May 1926

Houston, Texas

Huck and Gabe secretly wed the Friday evening after Mister Jack’s wild cry in the night. Their week-long engagement had been fun but hectic: securing a marriage license, buying rings, packing Huck’s belongings, transporting them to Gabe’s garage apartment. They’d even purchased a shiny new Oldsmobile they immediately dubbed Blue Norther, due to its azure color and whirlwind speed.

On “Elopement Friday,” Huck taught school at Sidney Lanier in her colorful pastel shift, while Gabe worked the books at Cecil’s in his
gray linen suit. At five o’clock sharp, he selected a dozen perfect pink roses from a nearby florist, then drove across town to pick up his bride. An hour later, they knelt in the stained-glass glow of Christ Church, where a portly rector announced them man and wife, his emotional spouse insisting they come to the parsonage for a celebratory supper of chicken-fried steak and banana pudding.

“I shouldn’t have had that second helping of pudding,” Gabe said as they motored away from the parsonage in the humid Houston twilight. “I don’t want to be a fat married man.” He laughed.

“Let’s promise to keep an eye on our waistlines,” Huck replied, thinking how many couples she’d known had gained weight shortly after they married.

“It’ll be a pleasure watching yours, Mrs. Alexander.”

“I love my new name.” Huck slid over to Gabe and planted a kiss on his cheek. Blue Norther swerved.

“So Mrs. Alexander likes to sit close and live dangerously.” Gabe grinned.

“She does. From now on, next to you is my assigned seat. Yours is behind the wheel.”

“Yes, teacher. But what if I become distracted and we crash?”

Huck scooted closer and clung to Gabe’s arm. “Mrs. Alexander won’t allow that to happen … I mean the crashing part.” She leaned her head back and laughed, her mind repeating her new name in various ways, mimicking the scribbles of a lovesick school girl:

Mrs. Alexander.

Mrs. Gabe Alexander.

Huck Alexander.

She’d wondered if the transition from “Miss” to “Mrs.” would
make her feel old. It didn’t. It just made her feel warm. Warm and wonderful.

Peering through the top of the windshield, she could see a speckle of stars peeking out from underneath the vast blanket of heaven. Just like on their first date, the stars seemed to shimmer with excitement. “I love you … Mr. Alexander.”

“Kiss me again and prove it.” With a squeal of tires, Gabe braked the car to a sudden stop. They kissed deeply until someone honked. Waving an apology, Gabe let out the clutch and moved on.

“I wonder why at a wedding the preacher always says, ‘You may now kiss the bride’?” Huck let go of Gabe’s arm long enough for him to shift gears.

“Didn’t you want to be kissed?” Gabe turned his head to meet Huck’s gaze, this time almost swerving into a pair of oncoming headlights.

“You watch the road and I’ll watch you,” Huck replied. “And to answer your question … of course I wanted to be kissed. But ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wondered why the preacher doesn’t say, ‘You may now kiss the groom.’ ”

“I don’t want to kiss the groom.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

At the corner of Louisiana Street and Texas Avenue, Gabe pulled up to the newly constructed Lancaster Hotel. They’d toured, then chosen the Lancaster because it was small, only twelve stories and a mezzanine, but the most luxurious and romantic hotel in the city. After checking in, they followed the bellman up to the entrance of the honeymoon suite on the top floor. He gently set down their bags. Instead of opening the door
after inserting the key into the lock, he merely grinned. “Sir. Everything is exactly as you’ve requested. Happy honeymoon.” Before Gabe could offer a tip, the bellman spun on his heel and was gone.

“What exactly have you requested, Mr. Alexander?” Huck reached up and placed her arms around Gabe’s neck. His eyes twinkled like an entire galaxy.

“Why don’t we open the door, Mrs. Alexander? Then you’ll know.” Gabe turned the key and the door swung open.

“Oh, Gabe … When did you …? How did you …?”

“I had some connections,” Gabe answered, his voice mirroring the excitement in his eyes. “The owner of this hotel is now one of Cecil’s most satisfied customers.”

Huck wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. The entire sitting room was aglow with hundreds of candles attached to tiny blocks of balsa floating in leaded crystal punch bowls, their rainbows of brilliant light flickering over walls and ceiling. The floor, removed of its Persian rugs and elegant furniture, had been covered with a large tarp upon which pure white sand had been sprinkled. In the room’s center, a weathered porch swing swung from a wooden frame, with “his and hers” emerald silk robes hanging from one end. The swing was identical to the one in which they’d snuggled the night their love was born. A large covered picnic basket and modern Victrola completed the room’s furnishings.

Huck kicked off her shoes and twirled around in a circle. “Oh, Gabe. You’ve re-created our own private beach. Come dance with me. Come dance with the happiest girl in the world.”

Gabe removed his shoes and socks and wound the Victrola. Strains
of the waltz “Waves of the Danube” filled the room, its gypsy-like melody lovely, haunting. He stepped toward Huck, placing his arms around her.

“I can’t believe you remembered.” Huck melted into his embrace as they moved with the passion of the music. “But you did.”

“It’s only been a week, my darling.”

“Not the beach. You remembered that ‘Waves of the Danube’ is my favorite waltz.”

“That’s what porch swings and secrets are for,” Gabe said softly. “Things about you I didn’t know, I get to remember.”

“And what will you remember about … tonight?”

Gabe stopped dancing. Pulling Huck into the depth of his firm embrace, he lowered his head, brushing his lips against hers as he spoke: “Tonight, we are the music. Tonight, we are the rhythm. Tonight, we are the mystery.”

A little while later, they put on the emerald robes and returned to the swing, sitting side by side. Huck cuddled next to Gabe and shivered with delight. Wearing only a robe beside a man who was dressed the same way was daring, even if he was her husband. She laughed.

“What’s so amusing?”

“My parents.”

“Your parents?” Gabe lit a cigarette. “Why would a girl think about parents during her honeymoon?”

Huck stroked the delicate silk, feeling the softness of her body underneath. “Mama would die before she’d let Papa see her dressed like this … and vice versa.”

Gabe chuckled. “I’ll admit, that’s not quite how I pictured your folks.” He inhaled slowly and released the smoke. “So when do we tell them?”

“About these beautiful robes? Never!”

“About us,” Gabe replied softly, meeting Huck’s gaze. “I can’t wait to see the two people responsible for making you.”

“I’m starved,” Huck said, wiggling forward in an attempt to stand. “What delicious snack is in the basket?”

“Why are you so worried?” Gabe gently placed his hand upon her leg. “I’m a lovable man.”

“Extremely.” Huck sighed and scooted back into the swing. Her stomach tightened. “You’re my lovable man and that’s all that matters.” She paused, struggling with her hidden fears. “We’ll tell Mother when the time is right.”

“Because of the church thing?”

“Please, Gabe. Let’s not discuss that now.” A single tear rolled down Huck’s cheek. She swallowed hard, refusing to cry about her mother’s stubborn religiosity, even though the entire evening had brimmed her heart with emotion. “There’s no telling what Mother’s heard about you already.”

“Because of Clark?”

“Oh, Gabe, this is our wedding night. Let’s not ruin it.”

“I agree.” Gabe snuffed his cigarette, then held Huck close, wiping the tear trail with the hem of his robe. “I guess your lovable guy needs to learn when to ask his wife questions.”

Huck buried her cheek against Gabe’s chest and sniffed. “You’ve already asked the most important question … and I said yes.”

Their lips met once again, this time with the unquenchable fire of
rekindled understanding. As the blaze burned hotter, their lovers’ symphony flamed into a tone and rhythm more impassioned than before. Then gradually, their music slowed, fading into the softness of satisfied slumber.

A few minutes before midnight, there was a knock at the door. “Telegram!” It was the voice of the same bellman who’d carried their bags.

Gabe leaped up.

“Dearest. Don’t forget your robe.” Huck giggled, then covered herself. “Who would send a telegram at this hour?”

“Who even knows we’re here?” Gabe grabbed his robe and strode to the door.

“Mr. Alexander! Telegram!”

A dozen reasons, all of them tragic, suddenly ricocheted inside Huck’s head. Only bad news would be delivered at midnight.

After opening the door, Gabe thanked the bellman and faced Huck as the latch clicked behind him. His eyes were full of tears.

“Gabe? What is it?”

“It’s not a telegram. It’s a postcard.”

“A postcard? Who’s it from?” Huck felt her voice tremble. “Aren’t you going to read it?”

Gabe stood still. “I already know what it says.”

“You do? How could you—”

“I wrote it,” Gabe interrupted, his face bursting into a grin. “Happy first Forever Friday.”

“I should chop off your head for scaring me like that.” Huck threw on her robe and scampered toward Gabe. “What have you done, sending me a postcard when it’s almost midnight?”

“Something I plan to do each Friday for the rest of our lives, that is, if I get to keep my head.” He handed her the postcard. “And the United States Post Office will take care of all future deliveries during normal business hours.”

Huck read silently.

“Oh, my genius man of endless surprises,” she whispered before flinging her arms around his neck. “I didn’t know you were a poet.”

“Guess I inherited the gift from my father.” He paused. “Do you really think I’m a genius?”

“Of course, silly. I love the line ‘two hearts commanding devotion.’ And your Long Division concept should win a Nobel Prize.”

Gabe laughed. “A Nobel Prize for love. Now that’s a pretty genius idea too. Perhaps you should win a Nobel for creating a new Nobel category.” He kissed her tenderly. “Look at the lovers on the front of the card.”

Withdrawing one arm, Huck held the card in the candlelight and studied the striking couple. “They’re perfect. Young. Beautiful. Happy. He’s gazing into her eyes as she gazes into his. They could be us.”

“Exactly what I thought the day I bought it.”

“Oh, Gabe! Postcard poems on our Forever Fridays. They’ll be our most cherished secret, held by
our
hands only.”

“Then stored safely in our hearts.” Gabe pulled Huck close for another kiss when her stomach growled.

“Oops.” Huck laughed. “That wasn’t my heart, nor was it ladylike. Guess I’m definitely hungry … and thirsty.” She eyed the picnic basket, remembering their May Day lunch at Mermaids on Galveston Beach. “I don’t suppose there’s shrimp cocktail?”

“Lounging on ice for your midnight eating pleasure,” Gabe replied,
then raised his eyebrows. “It took some doing, but I managed to barter for something else that’s in that basket. Something one keeps secret
and
on ice.”

“Would that have to do with my midnight drinking pleasure?”

“More like your pleasurable bubbly personality.”

Huck smiled, recalling the giddiness she’d felt that first day while drinking pink champagne. But more than that, remembering her childhood vow of only sharing deepest secrets with her soul mate.

Suddenly Huck couldn’t stop laughing.

Their clandestine Forever Friday postcards were pure glee.

June 1926

Houston, Texas

Huck stood behind her teacher’s desk and watched twenty-four students crowd out of her classroom as the final bell rang, ending another school year at Sidney Lanier.