6 The Wedding (7 page)

Well, this lady shall
have her orchids
, the Wings promised himself.

Supposing orchids to be some form of local flower that he
could easily harvest and supply to the ladies to arrange, the Wings began the
project with gusto. It started with storming into and out of the ladies’ town meeting.
It was supposed to conclude soon afterward with the Wings lugging sack after
sack full of orchids out of the forest and into town.

But after several hours spent gathering the typical local
wildflowers that he was pretty sure were not orchids, he was beginning to
despair. Where were all the orchids—and what did an orchid look like anyway? He
had only the vaguest idea. Surely, it couldn’t be that liver-colored thing that
smelled so bad.

The Wings removed a tick from his arm and gave up his
search, deciding to visit the Flowers to find out what an orchid looked like
and where they were hiding. If anyone knew anything about orchids, it would be
the Flowers. Heck, she even owned a small library of books. She might be able
to show him a picture of the flower.

An itchy Wings
found the Flowers in
the Lonesome Moose wiping down tables. She seemed stressed. Either that or she
was frantic to get a real nice shine on the table she was presently working on.
This was most likely due to the added stress of having to deal with her new
child. Regardless, she seemed pleased to stop her labors and have a word with
the Wings when she saw him approach.

“What can I do you for?” she asked playfully, swatting at
him with her towel.

“Judy, what’s an orchid look like and where do I find them?”

“What a strange question to ask. Why do you need to know?”

“You already know I volunteered to supply the flowers for
Butterscotch’s wedding.”

“Yes, right.
The floral displays.
That was very kind of you.”

“Yeah, that’s them.
The floral displays.
Well I decided to feature orchids in my displays,” the Wings announced proudly.

The Flowers put a hand to her mouth as her eyes became damp.
He was sure that this was happy girl crying and it reassured him that he’d
chosen the right flower for the wedding.

“Orchids.
They’re lovely, of
course,” the Flowers responded.
“But why orchids?”

“Because the lady wants
them
and my
mama never had them.”

The Wings realized too late that his statement didn’t really
make much sense. The Flowers seemed to understand him perfectly all the same. She
burst out laughing and sniffing at the same time and pulled him into an
embrace. She even gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Yes, there should be orchids,” she declared. “But they’re
so expensive. You’ll need to start a drive immediately to raise the money for
one nice display.”

“That wouldn’t be a problem. I plan on gathering bunches of
orchids out of the forest and making my own floral displays, with a little
help.”

“But Danny, orchids don’t grow in our woods. Actually they
might, but only the ugly kind that smell like rotting meat and eat bugs. We
wouldn’t want any of those in our floral displays. We’d only want the
prettiest.”

“But I’ve never seen an orchid before. I didn’t know they
didn’t grow here,” the Wings said, beginning to feel uneasy.

“They’re beautiful. They’re just the right flower for the
wedding. Wait here while I go get a picture.”

The Wings waited and fretted the whole time the Flowers was
away. How was he going to pay for expensive flowers? He had no money except for
the airplane fund. Soon the Flowers came skipping back into the room.
Skipping.
The Wings felt crushed by the weight of her
delight.

“Look at these,” she said, holding an open book out to him.

The Wings looked and was astonished by what he saw. The flowers
in the book were beautiful. They were also one of the most exotic things he’d
ever seen.
Everything about the orchid screamed money.
Money that he did not have.
Danny began to sweat.

“Judy, I’m no good at organizing fund raisers and shopping
for expensive flowers,” the Wings complained, handing back the book.

“Don’t you
worry.
You go see Misha.
Sasha tells me that Misha still has ties back into his former life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that he has connections in the market. You know. Yes,
you talk to Misha. Misha will take care of everything.”

“How do you know he’ll be willing to help?”

“He owes Butterscotch a favor. And if he refuses to help,
tell him that I will be round to have a talk with him. In fact, I’ll call him
now.”

“Alright,” the Wings said, fully acknowledging the woman’s
threat to
talk
to a man as sufficient
motivation.

*
 
*
 
*

Big John accepted a cup of coffee. I was doing the hard
stuff that morning, trying to work up the energy to tackle the last row of
tucks on the wedding dress, or else borrow about five progressively larger bras
and stuff the bodice full of padding.

I laid out my last two scones and set them on the table.
There should have been more, but Horace had woken without a hangover and with a
raging appetite that all but emptied my larder.

“So, I’ve been thinking that with the Flowers being busy
with Ricky—” The kid hadn’t earned a nickname yet, but it sounded odd to hear
him called by his actual name. “—that I should help out and make your wedding
cake. I make a real good orange pudding cake.”

Big John is a fair chef, but he cooks with a lot of
commotion. For day-to-day meals, the Flowers
handles
the preparation. But the Flowers really did have her hands full with Ricky and maybe
couldn’t take on the task. Big John’s pudding cake was tasty if a little bit
like a birthday party. In fact, the last one I had had was at my eighteenth
birthday party.

“That would be lovely,” I said
,
not
sure if I was lying.

“I always think of my wife when I make it,” Big John added.
It was one of the few times he had ever spoken of his late wife. Like me, Big
John didn’t spend much time looking back. “She taught me how. It’s her recipe.
I’m sure I remember it.”

“Then I’m doubly honored.”

Big John grinned happily. Chuck wouldn’t really mind if we didn’t
have chocolate cake, I assured myself.
Especially not when he
found out about Ricky.
The child had to come first. Orange cake—if Big
John remembered the recipe correctly—was fine.
Cheerful even.
Weddings should be cheerful. And even if it was awful, there would be lots of
other food. It was the thought that counted.

“Oh. We might have another tiny problem,” Big John mentioned
casually.

“What?” I asked warily. I didn’t need more problems. I was
beginning to worry that I wouldn’t finish my dress and I’d have to wear it
without the lace appliques—which would look stupid—and Madge would feel bad and
take it back and I’d be getting married in jeans.

“Well, did you know that it’s tradition in the Gulch for the
groom to go out and hunt for the wedding feast? It’s for luck, eh?”

“Yes. But Chuck isn’t here.”

“I know—but maybe he’ll still get back in time.”

“Let’s hope so,” I said, but my heart wasn’t in it. Chuck
doesn’t like hunting any more than I do. And there was always plenty of food at
community events. We didn’t need roasted wild beast. I didn’t believe those old
superstitions anyway. I wasn’t having something borrowed … well, except my
dress. And nothing blue….
Except my shoes.
My only
nice shoes were pale blue. But that was an accident. It had nothing to do with
lucky charms.

“Well, we’ll worry about that tomorrow,” Big John said,
rubbing his side.

I didn’t ask if there had been any word from the Mountie.
Big John would have told me at once if Chuck had called. I tried not to acknowledge
the growing anxiety at his silence, but he was in a really remote spot and the
wedding was now only two days away.

“
You feeling
okay?” I asked Big
John as he continued to rub right above his hip.

“Oh sure.
Just a
stitch in my side.
Doc gave me some pills. What are you doing today?”

I pointed at the heap of satin on the sofa.

“I’m still taking in my dress. It’s going to be terribly
pretty when it’s done,” I added to encourage myself. My fingers were very sore
and I was beginning to not like the dress at all.

“I’m sure it will,” Big John answered, getting to his feet.
“Don’t worry about anything. This wedding is going to be the most unforgettable
one ever.”

“I’d settle for one with a groom present,” I said lightly,
but meant it. “By the way, did I see the Bones and Linda leave town this morning?”

“
Eyuh
.
There was a logging accident at the
rez
. Two injured.
They’ve gone to help.”

“Oh dear.”

“Don’t worry,” Big John repeated. “If it were really bad
they’d have flown them out already. The Bones will patch them up and be back in
time to see you married.”

I was actually more concerned about the injured men than the
Bones being at my wedding, but I just nodded.

“
Slan
leat
,” Big
John said as he closed my door.

“
Slan
,”
I answered, turning to stare at my dress.

*
 
*
 
*

The Braids went out after sunrise and checked on her sheets.
Perhaps leaving them out overnight had been a mistake. The dew had collected
along the edges and made the now more-or-less lavender sheets kind of spotty.
Of course, the one sheet that had fallen on the ground was worse. It had dried
with strange ridges of color where the dye had collected in the folds.

She sighed. It would just have to be re-dyed with the next
batch. The color was a little darker. Hopefully it would hide the worst of the
jagged purple stripes.
If not….
Maybe they only needed
eleven tablecloths.

*
 
*
 
*

Big John had exaggerated slightly when he said he recalled
how to make his wife’s orange pudding cake. He had the general idea—two boxes
of vanilla pudding and one can of frozen orange juice—it was just the other
ingredients and proportions of the things he didn’t quite remember that were a
little hazy.

Still, he had a couple of days to experiment. He should be
able to figure it out in time.

First off, he would need the big mixing bowl. He wondered
where Judy had put it. And cake pans. He wasn’t entirely sure where they were
either. He hoped there were lots and round kinds. Wedding cakes were supposed
to be tall and cylindrical.

Ricky and I were fishing while the Flowers had a nap. We were
using rods because the capture with the hands thing was hard to teach to an
active child, and the lake was far too cold to let a child play in anyway. At
least I thought it was. I hadn’t raised a kid before and tended to think of
them as being very physically fragile.
Which was odd, because
as a kid I had played outside in all kinds of weather, usually without a jacket
because I wasn’t aware of much beyond my play.
And
keeping an eye out for my father, or anyone who might be after my father.

“I don’t know if Daddy is coming back to our home. Do you
think he’ll come here,
Butterstotch
?” Ricky asked
suddenly. Max was lying near the boy, maybe providing comfort.
Maybe just waiting for fish lunch.

“Not if he’s smart,” I muttered and got a surprised look.

Butterstotch
.
I was
surrounded by males who couldn’t say my name.
Butterstotch
was kind of cute though.

“I don’t know if he’ll be coming back,” I said, opting for
honesty, though lying would be so much easier. “It might be best if he didn’t,
at least for a while.”

The thing about children who were raised like Ricky—like me—is
that we weren’t innocent. At least, we weren’t oblivious. And people pretending
that nothing was wrong, that there was no potential danger associated with our
parents, did nothing to reassure us. And it would be dangerous if it did make
us feel safe.
Because we weren’t.
Not entirely.

And we often have ambivalent feelings about our families—which
is okay because it shows we are sane, even if it makes everyone else
uncomfortable when we don’t send Christmas cards of the whole happy family.
Sometimes it isn’t possible to like your family because they are poison.

That’s hard to say to a five-year-old though, so most people
won’t do it.

“Would you be sad if you stayed here with Judy and Big John
instead of going back to LA?” I asked casually.

He thought about this.

“It’s very different. I have a bigger bedroom here and new
clothes.” He looked at his flannel shirt. I noticed that it was the same plaid
as the one Big John was wearing and wondered if the Flowers had chosen it
deliberately.

“That’s nice.”

“And I already have red hair.”

“Very true—and it’s a lovely shade of red.”

He nodded seriously.

“Big John says there are bears.” This was not said with
apprehension when perhaps it should be. But on the other hand, should I say
anything about the danger just yet…? Kids were really hard to figure out.

“Sometimes there are bears. They don’t come into town
though. At least they haven’t for a long time. Only in winter if there is early
snow and they haven’t gone to sleep yet.”