One From The Heart (21 page)

“So how’s this wife doing?”

Ernie took his hat off again and held it over his heart, and Hannah couldn’t keep from chuckling. “Aw, she died, too, Red!”

“She died, too! Well, what in the world happened?”

“Poison mushrooms!” Ernie declared.

“Poison mushrooms! You don’t mean to tell me! Ernie, I am sorry!”

Ernie put his hat back on. “Naw, that’s all right, Red! I got married again!”

“You got married again? Ernie—and I’m afraid to ask this, folks—how is this wife doing?”

Slowly, Ernie took his hat off again and placed it over his heart, standing for a long moment in the middle of the arena to give the crowd time to react. He wiped his eyes. He blew his nose. He wiped his eyes again. “She died, Red!”

“Ernie, no! What happened?”

“Strangulation!”

“
Strangulation!
Strangulation? How did that happen!”

“She wouldn’t eat the mushrooms!” Ernie bellowed.

Hannah laughed and applauded with the rest of the crowd. She’d heard that routine a hundred times in the past few months, and she still loved it.

“John Ernest Watson, ladies and gentlemen! Now, before Ernie goes off someplace, I just want to say he really hasn’t run through three wives. In fact, this old bachelor here just got married today! And we want to give him a big round of applause to show him we wish him the best!”

Ernie held up his hand to acknowledge the applause.

“This is one dedicated man, ladies and gentlemen. Just got married this afternoon and here he is working on his wedding night. When you leaving on your honeymoon, Ernie?”

“One hour, twenty-seven minutes, and thirteen seconds,” he yelled, to the delight of the crowd, glancing in Hannah’s direction, but likely seeing the big cowboy behind her who was jumping up and down and waving his hat.

“Red!” Ernie called to the announcer.

“Yeah, Ernie, what is it?”

“My wife had to work tonight, too.”

“She had to work tonight too? Ernie, this is getting to be as bad as that other story you just told me. I’m sorry to hear that, son.”

“Naw, that’s all right, Red! She just got here!” he yelled back, and Hannah realized what the big cowboy was jumping up and down about.

“She just got here? She’s here tonight? Your bride’s here?”

“Yeah!”

“I hate to tell you this, son, but this ain’t no place to spend your honeymoon. Well—where is she, Ernie?” he asked when the laughter had died down.

There was a drumroll. Spotlights were sweeping the audience, and Hannah would have made a run for it but for the wall of cowboys that blocked her exit.

“You’re husband’s looking for you, ma’am,” one of them advised her with a grin, turning her around and pointing her toward the wall that separated the audience from the arena. Down close, she could barely see over it, but Ernie wasn’t letting a minor detail like that bother him. He was up and over the wall with the same agility he would have used to elude a vindictive bull.

He walked up to her slowly, in a blaze of spotlights, pausing dramatically until Hannah was ready to bolt again—standing in front of a television camera was nothing compared to this! His eyes were full of mischief and he slowly, slowly reached inside his shirt to present her with … a single red rose.

She was in his arms then, smearing his greasepaint, and the cheering around them was deafening.

“You’re not going to cry, are you?” he asked the woman who couldn’t make it through the national anthem.

“Yes!” she said, holding on to him for dear life.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer shouted, “I give you Mr. and Mrs. John Ernest Watson!”

“I love you with all my heart,” Ernie whispered into her ear, and she smiled. She loved him with all her heart, too. She had loved him almost from the very beginning. Her smile widened, and she looked around at the crowd of still applauding people.

When John Ernest Watson said he wanted to tell the world: “That’s my wife,” he
meant
it.