Come Rain or Come Shine (28 page)

‘Okay, you were hungry, so let's eat,' she said. She held out the forkful of baked beans. He shook his head.

‘A deviled egg, then. I just ate one, they're delicious.' No.

She knew about trying to get kids to eat, a bonus learning curve from the nonprofit art school. Most of them devoured their free lunch, but some were in a lot of emotional pain and ate like birds. She had been there, done that, got the T-shirt, as Lonnie would say.

‘Are you worried about something?'

He was quiet for a moment. ‘Am I bein' good?'

‘Oh, yes!' She was startled. ‘You're being very good.' Amazingly good, considering all that was going on now and all that had happened before. ‘Why?'

He couldn't answer that. He just wondered if he stopped being good and started being bad, what would happen? Would it still be forever? Sometimes he was bad and couldn't help it.

‘Come sit on my lap,' she said. Soon, very soon, he would think himself too big for lap-sitting. He got down from his chair and she picked him up; he was solid as anything. She held him close and swayed her body a little, like a cradle rocking, and soon he looked at her with the lovely solemnity that seemed a hallmark of their Jack Tyler, and said, ‘I could prob'ly have a deviled egg now.'

And there came Dooley with Sammy and Kenny and Julie and Etta and Ethan and Pooh and Jessie, and they would all sit together as family. Happiness. So much of it, all at once. And no, she mustn't be frightened of grace. She must let God give her all this and she must receive it with a glad heart.

‘Sunset, seven forty-five!' called Willie, passing among the crowd under the shed. ‘Right yonder!' He pointed west.

He was the old lamplighter, going his rounds, announcing the way of things in this world in case anybody was interested. All they had to do was turn around and look. But maybe people didn't care about how the sun set behind the mountains and how the mountains turned deep blue, then black as coal after the sun was gone, which made a person think if a person cared about thinking. All that sight to see, and then the stars coming out. It was a miracle he had appreciated all the days of his life.

He was putting together a nice dinner for the barn cats and the new kittens when he noticed a little handful of guests havin' a look. Harley and his Miss Pringle, for one, and Kenny and his young family, and Father Tim, he liked a sunset and so did his wife, an' the woman from Boston, she turned around and the other preacher in a collar, he did, too, and Miss Agnes from up th' holler and her boy who did the carvings, they turned around. You could tell a lot about people who would stop what they were doin' to watch the Almighty go about his business.

Helene Pringle was looking smart, he thought. He was fortunate to have such a tenant in the rectory, which he had owned for some years.

‘Helene! We're glad you could join us.' She had patiently endured Sammy Barlowe's rude behavior years ago, and Kenny's long bunk-in with Harley.

‘I've missed you and Cynthia being next door,' she said. ‘And Mr. Welch living downstairs. And of course, dear Barbizon, just a month ago,
il est mort
.'

‘He was a very amiable cat.'

‘Twenty-one years.'

‘It gets better with time.' All he seemed able to summon was a platitude, albeit well-meant. ‘I wish you could have seen our friend Harley being chased by the bull. He went into the field at the age of sixty-seven and came over the fence looking twenty-nine.'

She smiled. ‘
Adrenaline
, Father. It's cosmetic.'

Ironically, Helene Pringle had given him one of the great adrenaline rushes of his life—the day they drove down the mountain in her vintage car with next-to-zero brakes.

Twenty-one years. He gave her a hug.

‘You'll be alone no more, Helene. We'll be home tonight with a car full—and there goes the neighborhood.'

‘So, anybody in this group going to make a toast?' said Dooley. Bowser nosed his leg, looking for a scrap.

‘Not me,' said Pooh.

‘Sam?'

‘Hey, I'm happy for you guys, I love you, that's m-my speech.'

‘We'll take it. Ken?'

‘God is good. End of discussion.'

Laughter, high fives. And there was Bonemeal giving him a look.

‘How about you, Jess?'

She shrugged, looked away.

So, okay, speaking was not his primary skill, but somebody had to do it. ‘I'm in.'

‘Yay, Doc!' said Lace.

‘Yay, Doc!' said Jack Tyler, who was digging into Honey Hershell's creamed corn.

‘Game on, dude.' Sam tapped his knife against a glass.

The sun went down, the groom stood up. He didn't want to be bawling in front of people like his dad was so famous for doing. But this was a roller coaster, all this simple country wedding business and Jack Tyler coming; he was knocked out by it, crazy with feelings he was usually able to keep under control. What do you do with that kind of stuff when you stand up in front of people? What if it all came busting out in everybody's face like Choo-Choo? But come on, he was a husband now, he was a dad, he was a licensed vet—let it roll, he could do this.

‘Thanks, everybody, for coming out to be happy with us!'

Cheers, applause. Cowbell.

‘And thanks for all the great cooking. Lace and I couldn't have done this without you, that's for sure.

‘I'd like to make a few tributes, but I'm going to let you off
the hook, so no need to clap till the end unless you can't help yourself.'

Laughter. Cowbell. Scattered applause from those who couldn't help themselves.

‘We thank our parents, who have done everything they could to help us get settled, who stood by us even when we were crazy, and were always there for us. Dad, Cynthia, Doc, Olivia . . . call on us anytime. We're here for you, too.

‘Which reminds me, Dad—you're goin' to need a truck. When you're ready, give me a shout, I'm your man.

‘Thanks to my brother Sammy, who flew in from a big competition in Minneapolis, where he hammered his three-rail bank shot in the last game and won the championship!'

Cowbell, applause. ‘Way to go, Sam!' shouted Doc Owen.

‘Thanks to my brother Kenny, who came from Oregon with his wife, Julie, and their two kids. Ethan and Etta have given Jack Tyler a really priceless gift—instant cousins!'

Cowbell, applause; clearly, people had no desire to help themselves.

‘Thanks to my brother and sister, who came all the way from Mitford—thumbs up with th' dogs, Jess, good job bein' best man, Pooh. Y'all made a difference.'

Cowbell, applause. ‘Pooh! Jess! Yo!'

‘Thanks to my dad's brother, Uncle Henry, a railroad man from Mississippi who rode the Crescent up from Birmingham, and to Uncle Walter and Katherine, here from New Jersey.

‘Where's Father Brad? We appreciate you being part of the
ceremony and for being such a great influence in our lives. I can hardly wait for the next snow camp mash-up in a high wind, followed by nosebleed and a great meal out of a can.'

Laughter, applause, cowbell.

‘Thanks, Beth, for coming down from New York and singing for us and helping Lace, and thank you, Mary Ellen, for joining us from Boston. We appreciate it.'

Applause, cowbell.

He held up the small carving of a bull, the neck tied with raffia. ‘Great job, Clarence. Thanks for the amazingly lifelike images of the big guy who made our wedding unforgettable.'

Applause. Cowbell.

‘Thumbs up to the Ham Biscuits, who are really great musicians and special friends. Thanks, guys, for totaling the tenderloin before we could get to it. And special thanks for saving our gizzards.'

‘Gizzards!' said Jack Tyler.

Whistles, applause. ‘Go, Biscuits!' Cowbell.

‘To all of you who unloaded your scraps under the table, even though their vet has all four canines strictly on kibble—thanks for ruining my game. And thanks, Danny, for giving me the opportunity to kiss the bride. Think I'll do it again.' He leaned down and did it again.

‘Go, D-Do-Right!'

Applause with cowbell.

‘That was a crowd-pleaser,' Doc Owen said to the table.

‘Okay,' said Dooley. ‘This is a big one. Somebody—we don't know who—made it possible for Kenny and Julie and
Ethan and Etta to fly from Oregon. This means a lot to our family, we truly appreciate it. So come on, people, let us know who you are. Maybe you'll stand.'

He expected Doc and Olivia to stand, even though they wouldn't especially like doing it.

But nobody stood.

‘So okay, my thanking is about done.'

He stooped to Jack Tyler—‘Here we go, buddy'—and picked him up and held him in the crook of his arm and felt the boy's arm slide around his neck.

Lace stood with him. Candle flames shimmered along the table.

‘Lace and I thank God for giving us our son, Jack Tyler.

‘It's been a long road for him and for us to get where we are tonight, and a few times we thought we wouldn't make it.

‘Dad is one for the quotes; he'll throw a quote at you in a heartbeat. I don't have that talent, but when I started vet school, I did find something that worked for me. I actually wrote it on the wall of my apartment. The landlord said he'd seen worse.'

Laughter.

‘I think John Lennon said it.
Everything will be okay in the end. And if it isn't okay, it isn't the end.

‘Tonight everything is better than okay. But it isn't the end. It's just the beginning.

‘Here's to a new beginning, everybody. We love you.'

‘Dancing on the porch!' said Lace.

Cowbell. Applause. Standing ovation. The whole nine yards.

Doc Owen gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘He could run for county supervisor and get us a two-lane bridge up the road.'

Lace laughed. ‘Don't even think about it. You run for county supervisor and get us a two-lane bridge!'

She hadn't known her husband could make a talk that was so natural and fun.