Winter Sparrow (6 page)

AUGUST SUNSETS WERE BREATHTAKING.
The trees appeared graceful as they prepared for the fall season, when their leaves would change colors again and slip away. The scattered street lights occasionally pierced the glass. Mary pondered the wedding ceremony, now just hours behind her. It was an admittedly brief service and an even briefer reception. There was no limousine to carry them to the airport for a European getaway. She and Joshua had opted out of an extravagant honeymoon and instead decided to begin working on the mansion.

“It’s romantic if you think about it,” she told Jamie over a glass of wine at the reception, to which Jamie just rolled her eyes.

Mary’s Pathfinder was a logical choice for the Sunday drive. She had come to terms with the uprooting of her intense life in the city and moving to the tranquil and obscure routes this woodsy town offered. Her full trunk and cab bothered Joshua a great deal more than they did her. Mary had determined to fit all the necessities from her bedroom, including her painting supplies and canvases, into the SUV. “That’s what these trucks are made for, isn’t it?” she remarked upon departing the apartment. Joshua’s lethargic shrug insinuated there would be slight discomfort, but she just assumed he was overreacting.

With each blink, Mary relived their vows, the unusual squint the priest gave them when she swung her arms around Joshua’s sweet-smelling neck and employed tongue during their first kiss as a married couple. The small audience, consisting of a few college acquaintances and the family members who could make it, didn’t mind the spectacle. In fact, several cheered. It was like being transported back to a high school pep rally in which she was the star. Felt kinda nice. Even if making out on the altar might have been a little unorthodox, it was so worth it.

It had been an energetic, nearly perfect day, and much to her surprise, the wedding had gone off with only a few hiccups, one being the awkward walk toward the altar arm-locked to her brother-in-law. Little Sis insisted it be him who filled in for Dad. And ever since they were kids, Jamie got her way if she pushed hard enough. Seeing as how every wedding was secretly an opportunity for sisters to live vicariously, Mary caved. It was the least she could do following the years of support she’d had since Mom and Dad’s deaths.

Mary rounded the next corner slightly faster than the speed limit. She noticed Joshua’s uneasiness immediately when he pretended to vomit into the new Chanel purse she’d received as a wedding gift from an aunt she hadn’t spoken to in years but somehow claimed to have gotten an invitation. “My driving is
not
that bad, mister,” she said, the SUV falling back in line with the white paint on the road.

Joshua rolled his eyes. “Can I still vomit in the purse?”

“No, you cannot. Now, put it down and no one gets hurt.”

“All right. I still can’t believe your aunt dropped several hundred bucks on this thing.”

“It’s high-class art, honey. Some people just don’t get it. Although, I am a little curious how she got invited in the first place.”

“It was probably Jamie,” he replied, putting the purse near his feet. “Your sister loves to talk and start drama. I’ll bet she imagined inviting your aunt might get you worked up.”

“I don’t even think my aunt remembers why we fought in the first place. Besides, it was my wedding day, and I think we kept things amicable. You know, that old lady can dance.”

“Tell me about it.”

She took a deep breath. “I can’t believe we did it. I mean, we’re married,” Mary said, making sure to take the next turn with more grace. “Like, really married.”

“The wedding was something, wasn’t it, sweetheart?”

She nodded.

“You don’t think the guests were offended by our cutting it short, do you? Think it was rude?”

Mary shrugged.

“She pleads the fifth, huh? Always so opinionated, and all of a sudden she’s got nothing to say.”

“Look, I had a great time. Isn’t that what matters…
husband?
” The term of endearment still felt strange rolling off her lips, but she liked it. “Besides, I think the guests had fun.”

“Yeah, my cousin wouldn’t stop hitting on your sister, even though I told him last night she was off the market.”

“I believe ‘somebody else’s ball and chain’ was the term you so eloquently used.”

He looked stunned.

“Yeah,” Mary said, “your cousin gets awfully chatty after a few drinks.” 

“Perhaps I need to keep my conversations a little more top secret,” Joshua said, fidgeting with the sunroof that just wouldn’t close.

Mary slapped his knee twice.

“I mean, sorry?”

“Joshua,” she said with a sigh. “You don’t really think that, do you?”

“Think what?”

“That I’m your ball and chain?”

“Of course not. That’s just something guys say to other guys. But let’s be fair, your sister’s a little…well, she’s your sister. Look, it was nothing more than a joke, really. You, my love, are so much more than that.”

“Oh?” she answered coyly when he kissed her cheek.

“You’re my…cellmate for life.”

“For the record, that isn’t funny.”

“No, it’s a good thing. I swear,” he said, planting another kiss on her rosy cheek. “You make me feel all bubbly and tingly inside.” He couldn’t keep a straight face while trying to formulate a suitable comeback.

“I guess I’ll take it.”

“You know I’m just messing with you, right? About Jamie? I don’t hate her. She’s pretty cool. Well, tolerable…in a slightly neurotic, control-freak kinda way.”

“Hey, I can be neurotic too.”

“Oh, you have a valid point. Well, I guess I love you anyway.”

“Gee…how sweet.”

Joshua leaned over and gently stroked her neck, her lips. Then his eyes fell to the dress and back up again.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re seeing me for the first time.”

“Well, Mrs. Clay, I do believe I am seeing you for the first time, as my wife.”

“I like it when you call me that.”

“My bride.”

Her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red.

“My beautiful…gorgeous…ball and chain.”

She playfully grunted.

“Still hasn’t grown on you yet, has it?” Joshua replied with arched eyebrows. “Noted.”

“I love you, you know,” Mary said at length. “I think I really love you.”

“Well, I’m glad that after three years of dating, an engagement, and ultimately our wedding vows, this epiphany has finally hit you. I was starting to worry.”

“Cut it out, you goofball. I mean it.” Her shoulders climbed to her neck as she bit her lower lip. “I love you, Joshua.”

“I love you too, Mary. My beautiful bride.”

She relived Joshua’s hands slowly lifting up her veil. He gazed into her eyes, and he resolved the war behind them with one touch. The late summer morning held their faces in calm. She could see what looked like sparrows floating effortlessly in the air. It should’ve been humid, uncomfortable in that dress, in his hands, but it wasn’t. His boyish grin, his slick, combed-through hair, those disarming eyes, had power.

As Joshua read his vows, her heart began to warm within her chest. Every breath a stutter. A joy. She again looked out on the small crowd of people who had watched her wander down the aisle toward the altar during the softest of songs. Thankfully, she didn’t trip, not like her sister. She was his bride now. She had a new song, like the sparrows tweeting above them in the close-by trees while the priest ended their ceremony by asking Joshua to kiss her.

Why was there ever any doubt or fear? Joshua’s mouth had penned a brilliant story across her lips when he touched them for the first time as her husband. Passion and unbridled faith consumed each breath. Among the things she tasted were his dreams, his sweet cologne, and the flowers from the surrounding meadow.
Like my garden.
 

What she smelled now, however, was some of the food the caterers had allowed them to package and take along with what was left of their wedding cake. While never being a fan of fondant cakes, Mary knew this one tasted richer. She and Joshua would spend the upcoming week working on the mansion during the day, polishing off the remainder of the food at dusk, and wrapped in each other’s arms at night.

Upon their arrival, Mary parked the Pathfinder and waited for Joshua to come around to the driver’s side and indulge her teenage fantasy of being lifted out of the carriage by someone strong and handsome. 

“How romantic of you,” Mary said when he took her by the arm and clumsily lifted her over his shoulder.

“Is this how you do it?” he asked.

“Not in the slightest, husband.”

“Oh, look at that. The word isn’t on her lips twenty-four hours before she’s using it all negatively.”

“Well, if you would carry me like a lady, then I would gladly use your title more romantically.”

Joshua chuckled. He placed her down and picked her back up again properly but not before planting one on her mouth. “You know you love my sense of humor.”

“I suppose it is rather cute,” she said, licking her lips to savor his taste.

“Shall we enter our humble abode now, m’lady?”

“Certainly, my handsome prince.” As Joshua carried her across the lawn, she couldn’t help but glance for a moment at the sad willow tree. It sought to rob her of this moment of happiness. She imagined it as some other lost girl, a child who once glimpsed hope but was now riddled with sorrow and age and the realities of the world, only capable of expelling new miseries to those who still clung to the frailties of life. Mary tucked her head into Joshua’s firm chest. Once at the porch, she reached into his pocket and searched for the right key.

“I think I found the one,” she said, staring into his eyes. She placed the key in the handle and turned it until the door opened.

“Now, why is it whenever I try to do that, the door fights me?”

“Because, my dear, this lock cannot resist my charms.”

He let her down upon entering the mansion’s front door. It was barely dusk, and the light would continue to trickle in for the next hour or so. Mary danced with joy for the first time in the foyer she had once despised. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that the mansion remained an unfinished painting. She knew this place could be home. 

“You look like magic,” Joshua said, beaming as he reached for her hand for their second first dance.

BY THE END OF SEPTEMBER
, dawn resembled dark poetry. A spellbound earth sat behind the hills and clouds and dim but rising light. It was made new by irregular colors. The trees on the south end of the mansion flexed rebelliously out of the black dirt womb and created skinny branches. The shades of leaves faded. Mary imagined mutinous veins charging up the bark of its tree—the very same wires that showed the lifeline of every leaf that would soon slip off to die—as a nearly invisible force that plagued the world. The world was so unbalanced. When would she be able to explain the mystery of death? The mystery of change? Or perhaps no clean answer existed for why things were lost. Perhaps only the fallow grounds of the earth displayed the questions with similar unfinished lines.