I Will Fear No Evil (57 page)

“I think I’ve been insulted again. Wear white so that somebody can sneak a picture and sell it? ‘Ninety-Five-Year-Old Sex-Change Bride Wears White.’ Dear, if I wear white, let’s ask Life to send a photographer and cut out the middleman. Jake, I’ll wear white if you tell me to. If you don’t, I’ll pick something but it won’t be white. Something.”

“ ‘Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.’ ”

“Erase and correct, Jake. Here is the twenty-first century version:

“The bride is old,

“The license new,

“The body borrowed,

“The groom is blue.”

“I am like hell blue, I simply need a shave. Get out now and let me be. Beat it. Go take a bath. Try to smell like a bride.”

“Instead of payday at Tillie’s? I can take a hint. But you take a bath, too.”

“Who notices the groom?”

Cunningham had a busy six hours. But so did everyone in the ugly old mansion. To the old-tradition strains of Mendelssohn’s “Processional” the bride walked slowly in hesitation-step through the rotunda. (Twin, ‘Here Comes the Bride’ always sounds to me like a cat sneaking up on a bird. Pum . . . pum . . . tee-pum! Appropriate, hnnn?) (Eunice, behave!) (Oh, I’ll behave. But I prefer ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer Smith—his name is my name, too!’) (You can’t know that one. It’s eighty years old and long forgotten.) (Why wouldn’t I know it when you were singing it in your head every second they were dressing us?)

She walked steadily down the center of a long white velvet carpet, through the arch and into the banquet hall, now transformed with flowers and candles and organ into a chapel. (Boss, there’s Curt! I’m so glad he made it! That must be Mrs. Hedrick with him. Don’t look at them, twin; I’ll giggle.) (I’m
not
looking at them and you stop trying to—I must look straight ahead.) (You do that, Boss darling, and I’ll count the house. There’s Mrs. Mac—Norma—and Alec’s Ruth, with Roberto. Where’s Rosy?—oh, there he is beyond Mrs. Mac. My, isn’t Della dressed fit to kill?—makes us look shabby.)

The bride wore a severely simple dress of powder blue, opaque, with high neck, matching veil, long sleeves, matching gloves, skirt hem brushing the velvet runner and long train sweeping behind. She carried a bouquet of white cattleya dyed blue to match. (Twin? Why that last-minute decision for panties? They make a line that shows.) (Not through this gown; it’s not skin-tight. The ‘bride’s knot,’ Beloved—for symbolic defloration.) (Coo! Don’t make me laugh, Boss.) (Eunice, if you louse up this wedding, I’ll—I’ll—I won’t speak to you for three days!) (Joan twin, I won’t spoil it—Jake wants symbols, he shall have them.) (And
I
want symbols, too!) (And so do I, twin, so do I. It’s just that I have never been able to see life as anything but a vast complicated practical joke, and it’s better to laugh than cry.)

(Yes, darling—but let’s not do either right now. I’m having trouble with tears.) (I thought they were my tears. Doesn’t Thomas Cattus look handsome? I heard you order the ‘Lohengrin recessional’; that one is even funnier than the Mendelssohn—to an Iowa farm girl it sounds
exactly
like the triumphant cackle of a hen after she lays an egg. I’ll laugh then, I know I will.)

(All right to laugh and cry both then, Eunice—and to hang on tight to Jacob’s arm. Look, dearest, this is an old-fashioned wedding with all the clichés because Jake and I are old fossils and that’s the way it
should
be.)

(Oh, I approve. Cunningham looks worried—can’t see why; he’s done a beautiful job. Boss, those panties struck me so darn funny because you ordered the ‘Bilitis’ and the ‘Graces’ to be placed on easels in the drawing room where everyone at the reception can stare at them. Riddle me that.) (Eunice, there is no inconsistency. A bride is supposed to be covered; those paintings are meant to be looked at. With Joe and Gigi here I darn well
want
them to be looked at!) (They’ll be looked at. Stared at. Some wives may look at them with intense interest. Maybe.) (Maybe. Eunice, you know I’ve never asked a husband
not
to tell his wife anything; it’s not right to ask one member of a married couple to keep secrets from the other. Besides, he will or he won’t, no matter what you ask—and he should; he knows her better than we do. But those pix are as harmless as the fruit punch we have for those who turn down the champagne. It’s irrelevant that I posed for them, I simply want Joe’s genius to be appreciated. Enjoyed.)

Joe Branca had used no small part of his genius in making up the bride. Starting with a bare, clean canvas—fresh out of her tub—he had worked long and hard to make up Joan Eunice from head to toe with such restraint that even close inspection could not detect any trace of his efforts. As in “The Three Graces” it was simply Eunice’s own beauty, invisibly enhanced—strongly enhanced, better than life, more natural than nature. He turned down the use of a hair fall and simply fluffed her own hair (still far shorter than Eunice’s hair had been) and sprayed it slightly to keep it unmussed under her veil.

The bride’s matron of honor was made up with much less restraint. Having seen the miracle wrought on Joan Eunice, Winnie had timidly asked Joan if she thought it would be all right to ask Mr. Branca to improve her a little? Since she was part of the wedding party?—and Joan and Gigi had entlausiastically pushed the idea. Joe had studied Mrs. Garcia, then said, “Forty minutes, Joan Eunice—is time? Okay, Winnie, wash face.” The result exploited Winifred’s red hair, made visible her transparent eyebrows and lashes, livened her too-white skin—yet looked more natural than the stylized face Winnie usually wore.

The matron of honor wore pastel-green tabard and tights and carried a smaller bouquet of green and brown cymbidia. She kept in step to the hesitation march thirty paces ahead of the bride, preceded her into the banquet hall toward the improvised altar.

Chief of Security O’Neil was the last one in, then posted himself in the archway at parade-rest and managed to watch events at the far end of the room while giving his attention to his rear. His features were serene but he was uneasy, alert. The big house was empty save for seventy-five to eighty people in this one room; all armor was up, every door, every real window was locked, hand-bolted, and dogged, and the night net of alarms switched on, and O’Neil had personally made sure of all this before releasing his guards to attend the wedding. But he trusted no gadgets and few people; he did not release himself from duty.

The bride approached the far end. Jake Salomon waited there, with Alec Train at his side. Facing down the aisle were the Reverend Hugo White and Judge McCampbell, matching in dignity. Shorty was wearing a black frock coat, white shirt, string tie, and carried his Book; the Judge was in judicial robes.

(Boss, doesn’t Jake look beautiful? But what is that getup?) (It’s a cutaway, dearest.) (It’s a museum piece.) (I suppose so. Jake probably hasn’t worn it in thirty, forty years—or perhaps rented it from a theatrical costumer. I feel certain Alec had to rent his. Doesn’t Father Hugo look grand!) (Must be his preachin’ clothes, Boss. Joe ought to paint him in
this
, even if he never gets the pix he wants.) (Good idea, Eunice; we’ll plant it with Gigi—and one thing may lead to another. I have hopes that seeing ‘The Three Graces’ will gentle him, too. As Hugo
wants
to pose . . . if he can convince himself that it’s not sinful. Eunice, my knees are shaking. I’m not sure I can do it!) (Om Mani Padme Hum, baby sister. We had one hell of time getting him off the dime; don’t go chicken now.) (Om Mani Padme Hum, Eunice—hold my hand, darling—don’t let me faint.)

Joan Eunice stopped in front of judge and preacher. Winifred took her bouquet from her, stepped back to one side. Alec Train moved Jake into place beside Joan Eunice, placed himself to balance Winifred. The music stopped. Hugo lifted his eyes and said, “Let us pray.” (Om Mani Padme Hum. You okay, twin?) (I’m all right now. Om Mani Padme Hum.)

When Hugo said, “Amen,” Joe Branca slid in from the side, shot his first picture. Thereafter he moved around like a Chinese stagehand, disturbing no one and never moving at a crucial moment—but getting his shots.

Hugo opened his Book, did not look at it. “We read today from the Book of Psalms. It says here:

“ ‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

“ ‘He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters.

“ ‘He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.

“ ‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil . . . . . ’ ”

He closed his Book. “Brothers and Sisters, the Lord saw that Adam was lonely in the Garden of Eden and He said it is not good for man to live alone. So He created Eve to live with Adam. And He said to Adam, My son, you take care of this woman, you hear Me? You treat her right all the time, just like I was watching you every minute. Because I
am
watching you, every minute and every second. You cherish her and protect her like I tell you and you’ll be too busy to get into anything wrongful, and she’ll be a comfort to you all the days of your life.”

He turned to Salomon. “Jacob Moshe, are you going to do that?”

“I will!”

The Reverend looked at the bride. “And the Lord said to Eve, My daughter, you got to cook for this man and wash his clothes and bring up his babies and not go running around when you should be home, and love him even when he’s tired and bad-tempered and not fit to speak to, because men are like that and you must take the bad with the good—you hear Me, Eve?

“Joan Eunice, are you going to do that?”

“Yes, Father Hugo.”

“Judge—”

“Jacob Moshe, does there exist any impediment under our laws and customs to you marrying this woman?”

“None.”

“Joan Eunice, is there any reason in law or in your heart why you cannot marry this man?”

“There is none, Your Honor.”

McCampbell spoke more loudly. “If any witness knows of any cause which would forbid me to bind these two in marriage, I command him to speak.” (Eunice, if anyone even clears his throat, I’ll—I’ll—) (You’ll keep quiet, Boss darling; that’s what you’ll do. Nobody here but our loving friends. Om Mani Padme Hum.) (Om Mani Padme Hum. . . . . . . . . )

“Jacob Moshe, will you love, honor, and cherish her?”

“I will.”

“Joan Eunice, will you love, honor, and cherish him?”

“I will love, honor and
obey
him.” (Huh? Boss you demon, you haven’t the slightest intention of obeying!)

Salomon said, “Wait a moment! Judge, she switched the words! I don’t expect that and I won’t let her promise—”

“Order. You keep quiet, Jake; I’m not addressing
you.
Joan Eunice, is that what you wish to promise?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” (Eunice, stay out of this. I know what I’m doing.)

“I must advise you that such a promise is not legally binding under the civil marriage contract of this State but I must warn you, too, that it is not a promise which should be lightly made in these circumstances.”

“I know it, Your Honor.” (Boss, you’re out of your mind!) (Quite possibly. But it’s all
right
, sweetheart. Jake is going to give us exactly the orders we will be humbly pleased to obey. Haven’t I been right so far?) (Yes, but you keep scaring me. Suppose he tells us to keep our legs crossed? I’ve never been any good at
that
.) (He never will. Instead he’ll be magnanimously pleased to humor our little follies—since we’ve promised to obey him. Relax, sweetheart—this is precisely the way my darling Agnes handled
me
. . . when I was not anything like as wise and tolerant as Jake is.)

“Let me hear you state your intention again.”

“I, Joan Eunice, do solemnly promise to love, honor, and obey Jacob Moshe—and I will, Your Honor, even if he backs out and won’t marry me. He doesn’t have to marry me. I’d be perfectly happy just to—”

“Quiet, Joan Eunice. That’s enough. Reverend, this is getting out of hand; I’m going to wrap it up with the bare legalities and you can plaster them with anything else they need in your closing prayer. All right?”

“Yes, Judge. They don’t need much prayer; they’re ready.”

“I hope you’re right. Jake, you heard this stubborn little, uh, lady. Are you willing to marry her anyhow?”

“Yes.”

“Jacob Moshe, do you take Joan Eunice to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do!”

“Joan Eunice, do you take Jacob Moshe to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

“Uh, where’s the ring? Alec. Jake, take her left hand in your left. Now.”

“ ‘With this ring I thee wed.’ ”

“Under authority vested in me I pronounce you man and wife. Kiss her, Jake. Take it, Reverend.” (And
you told me
not to louse it up!) (I got us there, didn’t I? He’s ours. I mean, we’re his. Same thing.)

“Let us pray!”

26

On Luna, Kennedy Tunnel B, parelleling Kennedy Tunnel A between Luna City and the Apollo Industrial Complex, was completed and both tunnels were then made one-way, thereby quadrupling the potential traffic. The five- and ten-year projections caused the Commission to decide to go ahead at once with tunnels C and D. On the Hong Kong and New York Stock Exchanges Vacuum Industries, Ltd., Selenterprises, Pan Am, and Diana Transport all took sudden jumps against a generally sagging market. Mercury Newsletter (subsid of MercServ) sent destructaped messages by special couriers to their 7-star clients. Nine percent of these couriers failed to report back, which caused the managing director of MercServ to decide that a vacation at Las-Vegas-in-the-Sky would be good for his health even though there was no proof that Internal Defense agents had detained the couriers or solved the “destruct” combo. A source close to the President denied that there was anything more than seasonal unrest in any city in the country and denounced “irresponsible rumormongers.” CBS’s “Today’s Day with Dave Daly” was replaced by a motion picture with an explanation of technical difficulties. “Today’s Day” resumed the next day without Daly, who was—it was announced—on sick leave to recover from extreme fatigue. Miss Molly Maguire, the hottest sensie star of the private film industry, claimed the title of first woman in history to give birth to a child during a sky dive. The babe was safely landed exactly as planned by the midwife team diving with her, the event was filmed in stereosound and -color from several angles, and the only casualty was a sprained ankle for Miss Maguire—she was able to hold a press conference thirty minutes after she landed.