Every Girl Gets Confused (21 page)

“That was completely different, Alva. And I'm not breaking up with Brady. I'm just . . .”

“Confused. Like I said. A common feeling, I know. And Brady's not making it any easier with his pity partying. I'd like to throw that boy a bottle of hope and pray he catches it. But only God can do that. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to pray. And to pull out your BB gun.”

“My BB gun?”

“It's on the top shelf of your bedroom closet. Shoot those foxes in the backside. Send 'em running.” She looked over as Mama entered the ladies' room. “Then I promise you, you'll have fine wine to drink and no confusion at all.”

“What's all this talk about wine?” My mother walked over to us. “Is that punch spiked or isn't it? The rumors are rampant.”

Alva slapped herself on the forehead. “If it is, don't blame it on me. I'm just a visitor here.”

“You're never a visitor in Fairfield, Alva.” Mama looped her arm through my aunt's. “You're family.”

“Yes, I know. But that wasn't the point. Honestly, some people just aren't as quick on the draw. I suppose I should be blunt, but I've never been one to use a blunt approach.” Alva walked out of the ladies' room, muttering under her breath.

“She hasn't?” Mama moved toward a stall. “Sometimes I get so confused.”

She wasn't the only one. I found myself a little discombobulated at the moment, but it had nothing to do with the punch.

From inside the stall Mama talked about how beautiful the service had been, but I couldn't stop thinking about Alva's speech. What in the world did all of that chatter have to do with anything?

Okay, so maybe she had a point. Brady's strange back-and-forth behavior over the past few days had left me reeling.

I headed back to the reception hall. Casey took several steps in my direction, his eyes wide. “There's a rumor going
around that the punch is spiked.” He held up his cup. “Should I go for it?”

“It's your call. You're a Presbyterian. I only know the Baptist protocol.”

He took a little sip, his eyes narrowing. He licked his lips. “It's definitely not the same old punch we always had as kids. But I don't think it's spiked. It's something unusual. Kind of . . . gross.”

“Tequila? Prissy just got back from a trip to Juarez last month, you know.”

He shook his head and chuckled. “No, not tequila. Something else. Something . . . weird. But I think you're safe to try it. Who knows? You might think it's great.”

“Not likely, but I'll give it a shot. I'm thirsty.”

He filled glasses for both of us and we headed to the far side of the room to sit for a while. I nudged my purse aside, then heard ringing coming from it. Had I really forgotten to turn off the ringer during the ceremony? Ack! Thank goodness it hadn't gone off then. I reached to grab the phone, and my heart leaped when I saw Brady's number. Just as I took the call, Casey settled into the chair next to mine.

“Hey.” I did my best to steady my voice. “How are you, Brady?”

As soon as I said Brady's name, Casey's smile faded.

“Feeling better today.” In fact, Brady sounded pretty much like his old self. “How's the wedding?”

“It was great. You should've seen her, Brady. She looked like a princess.”

“Send me some pictures. Then I can feel like I was there,” he said. “I was there in spirit. And I prayed for both of them at exactly ten o'clock.”

“That's sweet. Those prayers worked.”

“Yeah. That's really why I called. I wanted to tell you that I've had a lot of time to think and to pray since I've been back home.”

“O-oh?”

“I want to apologize for pulling away from you, Katie. Please forgive me. But I think God has made good use of the time to really do some serious work in my heart.”

My own heart softened immediately. “There's nothing to forgive, Brady.” I softened my voice and turned away from Casey. “You've been in pain.”

“I have. But that's no excuse to push people away. If I ever needed the people I love, it's right now.”

The people I love?
Had he really just said that?

“When you get back in town, I'm going to show you the old Brady, I promise. God and I had a long talk, and I need to shake off this depression and have a different perspective.”

“He can give you that, Brady. I know he can.”

“He's already doing it. But I wanted you to know that I'm sorry I've been such a downer. It's not like me. Ask anyone.”

“I don't have to. I know it from personal experience. And you have nothing to apologize for. I'd probably be a mess if I were in your shoes.”

“My shoes are a size 13. If you were in them you'd trip over yourself.” He laughed long and loud.

Out of the corner of my eye I watched as Casey walked across the room toward Joni. He extended his hand and she took it, then followed him to the dance floor. Interesting.

Not that I really had time to watch them. No, I was far too busy talking to Brady to notice much else.

When our conversation ended, I finally decided to take a swig of the punch. Yuck! Something thick and pulpy greeted
me. Very strange. One sip was more than enough to convince me to stick to water.

Mama showed up at just that moment. She took one look at the glass in my hand and pinched her eyes shut. “You drank some?”

“Unfortunately.”

Her eyes popped open. “I guess you didn't get the memo?”

“About the punch?”

“About the secret ingredient.”

“We've been trying to figure it out all afternoon. What's going on, Mama? What is it?”

“You sure you want to know, Katie?”

“Well, of course.”

“You might want to put that down first.” She took my glass and tossed it into a nearby trash container. “Because what you're drinking there, sweet girl, is guaranteed to set your stomach on fire.”

“Mama, are you saying it's really . . .”

“Yep. You've got it.” Mama paled as she whispered, “That punch is 100 proof prune juice.”

She [Doris Day] was always gracious no matter what the situation. There are such people whose very presence seems to make life a little brighter.

Leo Fuchs

S
omehow I survived the prune juice saga, though I heard that several others, including Queenie herself, had a rough twenty-four hours after the fact. By the time I headed back to Dallas on Sunday afternoon, the whole town was recovering. Many were also on the prowl looking for Prissy, who—it was rumored—had decided to take a last-minute trip to the Panhandle. Coward.

I gathered my things, along with Aunt Alva, and loaded up
my car. We hit the road around three o'clock, though it felt more like evening to me due to my exhaustion. Our peaceful trip was interrupted by a call from Carrie, who always managed to get me when I was on the road. Thank goodness for Bluetooth. I answered with a cheerful “Hello?” and her voice rang out over the car's speaker. Alva perked right up when she heard the familiar voice.

“I'm so excited about seeing the dress.” Carrie giggled. “Tomorrow, three o'clock? Do you think Eduardo has made enough progress for me to try it on?” Before I could respond, she rattled off a thousand reasons why it just had to work out for her to try that dress on tomorrow.

“I really like this program, Katie.” Alva sat on the edge of her seat, hands on her knees. “It reminds me a lot of those old radio dramas we used to listen to when I was a kid, and it always leaves you hanging at the end. Until the next episode, I mean. I've always loved a good cliff-hanger.”

“Excuse me?” Carrie said. “Did someone say something about hangers? For the dress?”

“Sorry, Carrie.” How could I fix this? “Aunt Alva and I are driving back to Dallas today. My grandmother got married yesterday.”

“Oh, that's right.” Carrie's voice grew more animated. “You told me! And she got her dress from Cosmopolitan too, right?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone who's
anyone
gets their wedding dress from Cosmopolitan. Mama's friends are going to be green with envy.”

Alva looked at me, eyes narrowed. “Is this a commercial break from the regularly scheduled program?”

“What?”

She pointed at the radio. “Sounds like that woman's doing a commercial for the bridal shop.”

“Oh, I could. I so could.” Carrie giggled. “But we'll save that for a later date. Right now all I can think about is my dress. Can't wait to see it.”

Time to give this girl a reality check. “I think Eduardo's made great strides with the gown, Carrie, but don't be too disappointed if you see bits and pieces of it missing still.” I put on my turn signal to exit onto 287. “These things take time, you know.”

“Oh, I won't be disappointed. Much.” She giggled. “And speaking of Eduardo, that man is so awesome. And talented. And gracious. And sweet on the ladies. Anyway, I'm looking forward to seeing you again, Katie.” Her voice raised as she said, “And you too, Alva.” At that, the call ended.

Alva gasped. “Merciful heavens, how did that radio show know
I
was in the car?” Her tone grew more intense. “The government has spies watching us from all over. I read all about it in an article on that book face site.”

“Facebook?” I tried.

“No, I don't want to put my face into a book. But I guess that's part of their evil plan. They are probably photographing us now.”

“What?”

“I'm telling you, that radio show—that drama about the wedding dress—is really an inside job from the government. They're watching us.” She pointed at the screen in the middle of my console. “I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they knew where we were at all times.”

I pointed at the GPS. “They kind of do. And they make it easy for us to know too.”

“Ack.” She scooted down in her seat. “If they want any more information about me, they're going to have to come and beat it out of me.” Alva leaned her head back on the
seat and closed her eyes. “And how dare that woman add Eduardo as a character to her radio show. Did you hear all of those things she said about him? I do agree that he's suave. A woman would have to be blind not to notice that. But all of those other things? You would think she was trying to steal him away, and isn't she already engaged to someone else?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“That's the problem with these soap operas.” Alva yawned. “Nobody cares if they're engaged or married to one person. They're off having affairs with another. I refuse to saturate my mind with that garbage. Turn it off, Katie, if you please.”

“But it's not a . . . oh, never mind.” I turned the radio to a station that played worship music and listened to it all the way back to Dallas. When we arrived at Alva's house, I woke her up and she yawned and stretched.

“That was a short little catnap.” She sat up and then let out a gasp. “Ooh, my bladder's about to burst. Better get inside. Pray I make it.”

She made it. I did too. And though I didn't feel like cleaning out my car, I decided I'd better. Tomorrow would be crazy, especially if Carrie and her crew came to the shop.

I slept like a log in my own bed that night. Well, the bed that I'd adopted after moving in with Alva. I had the strangest dreams, though. Brides. Grooms. Bridesmaids. Prune juice. Ick.

The next morning I awoke refreshed and ready to face a new week. Hopefully Brady would be in good spirits. I could hardly wait to see him. I showered and dressed, then headed to the kitchen, where I found Alva fumbling with an old radio she'd placed on the kitchen counter. “What station is that program on, Katie?”

“Program?”

“The one we always listen to in the car. They've hooked me with that Eduardo character. I want to listen to it again.”

Good grief. “I have a better idea, Alva. Why don't you come to work with me today?”

She looked flabbergasted by this idea. “Why?”

“Because Carrie Sanders, the star of that program, is coming in person to the shop.”

“No!” Alva clasped her hand over her mouth. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. And you can meet her firsthand, and her crazy family.”

“I'll be ready in two shakes of a lamb's tail.” Alva practically sprinted out of the room. She came back a few minutes later, fully dressed with a bit of makeup on. I let out a whistle.

“My, don't you clean up nice.”

“I want to look my best. It's not every day one meets a movie star.”

“She's hardly a movie star, Alva.”

“Still . . .”

We made the drive to Cosmopolitan with my aunt talking a mile a minute. I'd planned to fill her in, to explain how the Bluetooth worked and share the truth—that Carrie was just a gal from San Antonio who happened to be purchasing her gown from us. But I never got the chance, thanks to chatterbox Alva. Hopefully I could get it all straightened out before day's end. No point in stringing her along much longer.

We arrived at the store at eight forty-five, just behind Madge, who was unlocking the front door.

“The most wonderful news, Madge!” Alva hurried through the door of the shop. “We're meeting superstars today.”

“Superstars?” Madge tossed the keys on the front counter. “And who would that be?”

“Have you invited Doris Day to join us?” Eduardo asked as he entered the store. “Is that what this is about?”

“No, not Doris. It's some actress named Carrie. She does a radio show.” Alva grabbed Eduardo's hand. “She's turned you into a character, but I'm not sure I like where the plot is heading.” She gripped his hand and he gazed into her eyes.

“Really?” Eduardo gave her hand a squeeze. “I daresay I do like where the plot is heading. Now, why don't you come into the studio and tell me all about it.”

She followed on his heels, chattering all the way.

By now Twiggy, Dahlia, Hibiscus, and Jane had joined us. They stood wide-eyed as my aunt sauntered back into the studio with Eduardo.

“Well, if that doesn't beat all.” Madge tossed her purse on the counter.

“Am I the only one who's noticed that Alva's wearing makeup?” Hibiscus asked.

“No, I noticed too.” Twiggy opened the cash register and a little ding sounded. She slammed it shut. “Weird.”

“What's up with that, Katie?” Hibiscus asked.

“Oh, she heard that someone famous was coming today, so she got gussied up for the occasion.”

“Someone famous? Who?” Madge asked. “I don't remember hearing anything about that.”

“No one, actually. It was a big misunderstanding. But she just got prettied up to see someone special.”

“So strange.” Madge shrugged and got busy arranging veils on a nearby rack.

I was just about to say more when Eduardo entered the shop from the back hallway, gown in hand. He sang “Feliz Navidad” at the top of his lungs as he hung the dress on a rack between several others. Alva's voice rang out in perfect
harmony from the far end of the hall. Eduardo smiled, then the two headed back to the studio, singing all the way, their voices perfectly blended.

We all froze. Dahlia broke the silence first with an “Oh my goodness.”

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Twiggy asked.

Everyone nodded. I'd never given the notion a second's thought, but there it was, staring all of us in the face: Eduardo and Alva. Two peas in a pod. Him with his televangelist hair and her with her frizzy 'do and Mavericks T-shirts.

“That's it!” Hibiscus giggled. “Eduardo is the ‘someone special' she got gussied up for. Surely you've seen signs, Katie. These things don't just happen overnight.”

“She has been talking a lot about Prince Charming, but mostly about how he doesn't exist. But you're right about the makeup. She got all dolled up for the wedding. Lori-Lou talked her into putting her hair up and wearing a little lipstick and blush. And eyeliner. That was really some feat.”

“Oh my.” Jane shook her head. “Even I still struggle with that.”

“Yes, that didn't end well, but the point is, she wanted to give it a shot, and she had a lot of compliments on her looks at the reception, which she seemed to like.”

“Why does a woman who's never worn makeup suddenly want to look nice?” Twiggy put her hands on her hips. “Only one reason, and we just saw it with our own eyes. She wants to impress Eduardo.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe wearing makeup makes her feel better about herself. I'm not disputing the notion that she has a crush on Eduardo, but maybe there's more to it than that. We all know that doing the best we can with what's on the outside makes us feel better on the inside.”

At this, Jane grew quiet. She swung her purse over her shoulder and headed toward the studio. “I guess I'd better get back to work.” She hurried down the hallway, never looking back.

I glanced at Dahlia, who seemed a bit puzzled by this behavior.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“Not sure. I think you struck a nerve.”

We had to end the conversation because a customer entered. I headed back to my office, deep in thought about the conversation with the ladies. Surely they were imagining the situation with Alva and Eduardo, right? Then again, she had perked up at his appearance on the “radio show.”

Brady arrived around eleven and greeted me in my office with a kiss and a bundle of red roses.

“What are these for?” I asked.

“Because, Katie Sue Fisher, I'm layin' claim to you, remember?”

“Oh, that's right. Well, these ought to seal the deal.”

“Hope so. Hey, do you have a few minutes to talk?” He leaned his crutches against the wall and hopped over to a chair to sit down.

“Sure.”

“First, I really meant what I said on the phone the other day. You've been the most patient person on the planet where I'm concerned. I've been so worried about my stupid career and my bum knee that I didn't think you would want to commit to a long-term relationship with me.”

“Surely you didn't really think that?” I took a seat in the chair across from him.

He leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. “I didn't know if I could offer you the kind of life you deserve. When I'm out on the court, I'm in my element. I'm in the zone. Doing what comes naturally to me. And I'm earning a great income.
I don't want to make too much of that, but it's a blow to the pocketbook to have my career come to an end, you know?”

“But you do well at the shop, right?”

“Yeah. But I'm kind of a fish out of water here. I think I just wanted you to be proud of me.”

“I
am
proud of you, Brady. You've done exactly what a good son would do—swept in and made things right for your mom while she's off in Paris fulfilling her dream.”

“And all the while, I've felt like my own dream is dying.”

“Oh, Brady . . .”

His eyes glistened. “There's nothing worse than the death of a dream. I spent most of this past season acting like it didn't affect me. But trust me when I say that it has. It's not just the pain. I can live with that. It's the not knowing if I'll have a shot again, and I don't mean that as a pun.”

“I—I know.”

“If they don't renew my contract, then a piece of my identity will be forever missing.”

“But Brady, your identity isn't in basketball. It's in Christ.”

“I know that.” He reached across the desk for my hands and I placed them in his. “I do. And I've memorized those lines, trust me. I want to be confident in that. And if working in a bridal shop is what he has for me, then I need to be okay with it. But I don't know if I can honestly say that I'm giving the woman I love the best possible life if I'm not content with it. You know?”