Just out of curiosity, after she and her client had concluded their business, Ginger had swung back by Mae Thelma’s house and was angry to see that Jackson was still there.
“Down at the club,” Jackson responded casually when she asked where he’d been. “We’re putting in a fence around the parking lot. Then me and the fellows had a few drinks.” He waved his hand like he was swimming. “Move out of the way, will you?”
“And . . .” she said, not budging.
“Hmmmm,” he blew out. “That’s about it.”
“You lying son of a bitch. You were over Mae Thelma’s all morning.”
“Funny, I hadn’t noticed the time,” said Jackson in a Clint Eastwood monotone.
During the heated month of July, Jackson found a bank receipt in Ginger’s minivan, and was outraged to learn that she had stashed away so much money. He’d intended to find some kind of evidence disputing Ginger’s claims about that night. It was obvious she had been hiding something. Some man. Had to be giving her money. And he’d find out who it was.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars! Where in the hell did you get that much money?”
“Commissions,” said Ginger flatly.
“And you didn’t bother to offer to help put the roof on?” Jackson was torn between disbelief that she’d earned so much money and resentment that she hadn’t offered him any.
“If I was
still
at the plant — if I was
still waiting
on you to tell me to go with my instincts, if I was
still
waiting on your blessings, I wouldn’t have a dollar.” She rolled her eyes at him.
“Still, I am your husband. You could help out.”
Her voice, her heart, were bitter. “You could have supported me when I needed it. Instead you turned your back on me. You closed our account altogether. You tried to make me suffer.” Ginger felt exonerated. “My bank account proves I’m not suffering one iota, Jackson.”
“You bitch.” The words sounded louder than Jackson had intended.
Tears of hurt, tears of defiance, tears of pride clouded Ginger’s eyes. “I got your bitch mother-fucker.” She grabbed her crotch. “Right here.” She fought for courage, and it came. “You’ll smell daffodils in December before you get a whiff of this pussy!” Ginger shouted, slamming the door to their bedroom.
Ginger moved into her office for the entire month of July. They never made love. And by the time August rolled around, they were more irritable than ever.
Ginger refused to go down South. She told him to go by himself, or take his wonderful baby daughter with him. It had only taken two trips to the beauty parlor before Jackson had apologized about her messing up Autumn’s hair. Ginger, however, hadn’t forgiven him for making the accusation. She’d just kept silent.
Time was running out for George Cameron. His attempts to reclaim some of the key clients Kim had stolen proved futile. Not one would return to Pierce-Walker no matter what perks Cameron offered to sweeten the deal. Each had made very clear how satisfied they were with Kim’s business acumen.
Cameron was close to accepting his loss . . . until he flipped through the late edition of the
Detroit Free Press
, spotting an engagement picture, and read the small article chronicling the wedding in the middle of September of Dr. William Harris and Kim Lee. George Cameron smiled to himself.
Earlier that summer, after reviewing the pictures Ivory Michaels had given her upon his return from Paris, the two cousins finally made a decision about Kim’s wedding dress. She’d chosen to copy a gown by Yumi Katsura. A seamstress from Lansing had assured Kim that she could duplicate the design.
The slim-silhouette gown made of lustrous cream silk-satin crepe was accented with matching baroque pearls layering the empire bodice to midwaist. Hand-appliquéd beaded medallions at the apex of the bustline added style and sophistication. Along the front slit opening, the off-the-shoulder neckline, and at the wrists an elaborate lace rose-petal pattern seductively embodied the godly creation. A chapel train of lace provided the finishing touch.
Six bridesmaids would wear ivory opalescent strapless minidresses that were tight-fitting straight silhouettes with hipline peplums accented with a side cluster of handmade silk roses. The male attendants would wear off-white tuxedos with shiny gold cummerbunds and matching ties.
Having read that wearing a veil this year was passé, Kim elected not to wear one. She’d let her hair grow out and planned on wearing it entwined with flowers over a beaded hair ornament, with rows of curled ribbons cascading romantically down the sides and back at various lengths. Ginger cried tears of joy as she watched Kim try on the dress for the final fitting and last-minute details. It was beautiful. She was beautiful.
Five weeks before the wedding, Bill escorted his exuberant father-in-law-to-be from the nursing home and had him measured for a tuxedo. Miraculously, Ollie had regained the power of speech. Afterwards, Bill and Ollie spent a few hours over lunch discussing the women they loved.
Listening attentively, Bill had been impressed with Ollie’s words of wisdom for a happy marriage.
“Do you read your Bible, son?”
“No, sir,” Bill had said, embarrassed.
“Always be honest. You can respect a man for his honesty. Have a Bible at home?”
Bill nodded yes.
“Do me a favor. Do yourself a favor, and together with Kim, before you marry, take the time and read Ephesians, Chapters Twenty-one through Thirty-three. It explains how a man and wife should treat each other in marriage. It encourages husbands to love their wives even as Christ also loved the Church. That men ought to love their wives as their own bodies, because he that loveth his wife loveth himself: ‘For no man ever yet hated his own flesh; but nourisheth and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the church. . . . Nevertheless let ever one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself; and the wife see that she reverence
her
husband.’
“Take the time to become best friends. Laugh together, cry together, pray together and tell each other your secrets. Treat her like she’s special every day. Build your future together. Set goals. Not just for money, but for spiritual growth.
“Give her freedom to fulfill her purpose in life, and achieve your own. In doing these things you’ll be the best of lovers.”
When they returned to the nursing home, Bill was genuinely moved by their conversation. Not having a father to confide in, Bill appreciated Ollie’s pep talk. Marriage, picking a mate for life, was important to him. Over the years, several of his friends had entered into their third or fourth marriages.
The stories they’d reiterated about divorce, dividing property, children, and money were scary. Homes and furnishings that couples had so lovingly selected and treasured over years were now bartered and fought over childishly. Hot-blooded love cooled to cold hatred. And the children suffered, unsure whom to pledge their allegiance to. Bill knew that when he decided to marry, it would be for life. He knew that men, as well as women (though most wouldn’t admit it), agonized over a failed marriage.
Ginger was so nervous she’d broken out in hives again a week before the wedding. It had taken numerous trips to salons for Ginger to find just the right wig. She’d never been in a wedding party. Although she’d known Kim would ask her to be the matron of honor, it still brought tears to her eyes when she did.
Ginger, Sierra, and Autumn worked together to make matching pearl-and-crystal earrings for each of the bridesmaids. Kim had made Sierra the happiest preteen in her circle of friends by asking her to be one of her bridesmaids. Autumn, sulking because she wanted a fancy minidress too, was given the task of throwing the flower petals. She was too old and too tall to be a flower girl, she argued, but acquiesced after she saw the beautiful dress her mother bought her. And after she was told she’d be able to wear her hair down, she became thrilled with the whole thing. Christian, at a vintage fifteen, couldn’t possibly play the part of ring bearer, so they hadn’t even broached the question of his participating. Instead, he volunteered to pass out the rice for everyone to throw.
A week before the wedding, Katherine arrived from Port Huron, strangely enough minus Cotton. The rumors of Katherine’s tumultuous on-again, off-again relationship over the past year were rampant. Ginger accepted her mother’s vulnerability, understanding her need for companionship. She prayed diligently that when she turned sixty, her love with Jackson would be as strong as when they’d first pledged it. Besides, no one could afford to be without Katherine’s expertise in handling important festivities such as these. She was immensely knowledgeable. She didn’t forget a single detail of what was expected from each participant in the wedding.
On Saturday morning, the nineteenth of September, the sun rose with a warm glow. The dew loosed its morning smells early on as sparrows chirped busily overhead.
A horsedrawn carriage had been hired, and was scheduled to pick up Kim at her apartment by 12:30 P.M. The wedding was to begin promptly at 1:00 at Saint Michael’s Cathedral, six blocks away.
“You look beautiful, Sierra. Mama’s so proud of you.” Ginger kissed her daughter lovingly on the cheek. Katherine was right. She
did
look like a Miss America. Not usually at a loss for words, Sierra was extremely quiet today. Ginger suspected that Katherine must have whispered in her ear to try not to talk so much. She was constantly telling Sierra to carry herself like the star she would one day become. Sierra, looking and feeling like a million bucks, abided by her wishes this one time.
“Everything all right, Mama?” asked Ginger, nervously checking her watch. Peeking through the door out into the church, Ginger smiled. So far the wedding was moving along fairy-tale perfect. The church was filled to capacity.
“Just peachy.” Sweat beaded on Katherine’s forehead. Ginger reached inside her purse, then patted her mother’s face with a tissue. Katherine looked uncomfortable. She’d gained back the thirty pounds she’d lost last year, and now wore the inevitable two girdles again, squeezing into a dress two sizes too small.
Ginger still didn’t feel right about not talking to Kim this morning. Katherine had assured her that everything was fine. Said it was normal for a bride to want her privacy. Kim had lost so much weight recently that her wedding dress had to be altered a second time after the final fitting.
Left unasked and unanswered between mother and daughter were the whereabouts of their significant others. Katherine had no idea where Cotton was, and hoped that Ginger wouldn’t broach the subject. And while Ginger knew exactly the whereabouts of Mr. Jackson Montgomery and was sure Katherine had guessed too, she was grateful that her mother hadn’t confronted her about it.
At this very moment, thirty minutes before the start of the wedding, Jackson was sitting at home, watching television in his underwear and socks. Taking a large hunk of bologna, he stuffed a cracker in his mouth and washed it down with a half-frozen bottle of Diet Pepsi. He surfed channels with the remote until he found a Western suitable to his mood.
Gunfight at the O.K. Corral
— just the ticket. He hadn’t seen it in months. And he’d caught the tail end — the best part. Now this was what he called a party.
A smug smile registered on his face. Ginger had been livid this morning when he dropped the bomb that he wasn’t going.
“Don’t humiliate me, Jackson,” Ginger had said.
“You don’t need me. I’ll be right
heah
when you get back.”
“I need you to be there supporting me, as my husband.”
“I can’t figure you out, Ginger. One minute you’re Miss Executive, executing your life, your money, your time as it suits
you. When it suits you
. Next minute, you’re vulnerable, you need
me
, your husband. Why is that, Ginger? Why is it that
our
needs these days only represent
your
needs?”
“You’re not being fair, Jackson. And it’s obviously too late to talk about it now, so just forget it. I’ll go alone.”
“No, you started this shit. I’d like to know why you’re spending so much time involving yourself in somebody else’s marriage when you should be concentrating on working on your own.”
“I think you should be asking yourself that question, Jackson.”
“You didn’t need me to quit your job. You wouldn’t listen to my advice. Tell me, Ginger, all those years you worked at Champion Motors — doesn’t loyalty mean anything to you? Security? Commitment? Is that how much consideration you’d give to our years of marriage? ‘I quit. It’s over’?”
“I’ll never quit us, Jackson.”
“Uh-huh, yeah.”
As she stormed off, Jackson reflected on the health of their marriage. Even though their relationship was plagued with problems, he sincerely believed with faith and time, they could make it work. No matter what the circumstances, it was worth it.
Jackson made two decisions: first, to put more trust in God; and second, to go to church with his family. He crossed his ankles, grabbing a handful of fresh popcorn. Next Sunday, the Montgomerys would be sitting in the front pew at church, testifying to their belief in God.
Ginger decided to lie to Kim and Bill, explaining that Jackson had a bad cold and was unable to make it.
Katherine was equally prepared with an alibi for Cotton. Yet she was sure his absence would go unnoticed. It was ironic: Both women would lie to protect their men’s reputation, loving their men hard, their men hardly loving. Did either man really deserve this love?
By 12:52 P.M. the cathedral brimmed with carefully dressed guests, whispering. Katherine signaled the organist to begin playing the pieces they’d selected. The soloist Kim had hired to sing “Since I Fell for You” sat on the bench across from the organ. Eight minutes to go. Bill and Kim’s father took their places.
Silently as a dream, like a sparkle in a grain of sand, time was running out for Kim’s magical wedding, at this moment she was dreaming a colorless dream. . . .
Last night Kim was exhausted, but too hyped up to sleep. Dark circles shadowed her face, threads of red darted across her fatigued eyes, her skin tone was sallow. After weeks of surviving on three to four hours of sleep nightly, she was determined to get some beauty rest before the big day. Taking her aunt Katherine’s advice, she’d acquiesced and ingested four sleeping pills.