The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek (28 page)

“And lovely peach napkins and flowers for the reception,” Blossom stated.

Gussie gave in. “Yes, peach for the reception,” she said because it made life easier.

“We could have the reception at the country club in Austin or at my house overlooking the lake,” Blossom said.

“We’d like to have it here in the fellowship hall,” Gussie said.

The wedding planners looked at each other. They didn’t say anything because this was, after all, part of the church, their church, but Gussie could read disappointment.

“We don’t want a fancy reception,” Gussie explained. “We want to celebrate here with our families and friends and not spend more than we can afford.” As she saw Blossom open her mouth to offer to help financially or in any other way, Gussie repeated, “We don’t want to spend more than we can afford.”

“A good idea.” Winnie scribbled onto her notepad. “With the reception in the fellowship hall, people won’t have to drive.”

Miss Birdie nodded her agreement.

“But that means no champagne fountain,” Blossom said.

“Yes, Blossom, it does,” Gussie said.

“All right, let’s talk about the dresses for your attendants.” Blossom accepted the loss of the fountain and moved on.

“We’ll take care of that. We’re meeting in town Saturday,” Gussie said to warn away further suggestions.

Hannah wouldn’t join the trip, but no need for the Widows to know that. Adam had told Gussie his sister would find shopping with three women absolute torture, but she had her future sister-in-law’s dress size and promised to find something Hannah wouldn’t hate.

“Who are the preacher’s attendants?” Winnie asked, ready to write their names in her little book.

“Sam is best man,” Birdie said. “I called the preacher to find out. Hector and Gabe will stand up with him.”

“And Janey’s going to sing,” Gussie said.

“Oh, lovely.” Blossom clapped her soft little hands.

“Reverend Patillo will perform the ceremony?” Miss Birdie shook her head. “A woman?”

Gussie felt the underlying concern was conflict of interests, not gender. Mattie had been the first woman the Widows had attempted to set Adam up with, back in the glory days of their matchmaking careers. Perhaps they feared Adam would look up at Mattie and decide to run off with her, leaving Gussie at the altar. Gussie didn’t. “Yes, Mattie will preside.”

“She’ll do a lovely job, Bird. You know that. No one even notices she’s a woman anymore,” Mercedes said.

With that, they moved on.

“Invitations are next.” Blossom led Gussie to another table. “We’ve already missed the deadline for the save-the-date cards.”

“Don’t worry. I already addressed them and will drop them in the mail next week.”

“Adam’s parents will be flying from London,” Winnie read from her notes. “Where will they stay? With the preacher?”

“No, they’re going to rent a car and stay in a bed-and-breakfast in Horseshoe Bay.”

“Not here?” Winnie spoke as if her town had been insulted.

“Other than that Starlight Motel out east on the highway, we don’t have many lodgings,” Gussie said.

“That’s right,” Winnie said.

“We don’t,” Mercedes agreed.

“And the riffraff that stays at the Starlight.” Miss Birdie sniffed. “A bed-and-breakfast elsewhere makes sense.”

They discussed a few more details. Blossom had set a date to meet the florist. The choice of a baker was easy with Butch the only baker in town.

“I have three o’clock Wednesday of next week set for you to try a few samples,” Blossom said.

“I can’t be there. I’ll be working in Austin, but I’m sure Adam will go with you.”

All four wedding planners gasped.

“But…” Blossom’s voice quivered. “He’s the groom.”

“And he loves to eat. I assure you that whatever the two of you choose will be wonderful.”

“That’s how things are these day,” Mercedes said. “Couples doing things together. Bridal showers aren’t just for women anymore, and the groom gets to make a few decisions.”

“Surely not the important ones,” Blossom said.

“That’s not the way we used to do it,” Miss Birdie said.

“We have to keep up with the times, Bird,” Mercedes said. “Besides, I’m sure even the preacher couldn’t mess up choosing a wedding cake.”

“And Blossom will be there to guide him,” Winnie added.

Gussie bit her lips to keep from laughing. Did they fear Adam might go rogue and decide on pistachio with fig frosting? “Would you ladies help him with that? Perhaps bring him a few samples? He could try each and, with your guidance, make a decision.”

“That’s probably best,” Winnie said. “Blossom, you check with Butch.” She made a note of that.

In only a few more minutes, the five ended the two-hour planning meeting. Then the Widows waved Gussie away because, as Blossom explained, “We need to talk.”

The words paired with Miss Birdie’s tone and body language made Gussie hesitant. Oh, not that she wanted to stay, but her color choice had already been changed from coral to peach; who could predict what they might decide in this private session?

Then she stopped worrying because, after all, she was marrying Adam and it didn’t matter if the wedding planners had planted an orchard in the sanctuary or expected her to shimmy down the aisle in a pale pink dress with fringe to the accompaniment of a rockabilly band. She’d marry the man she’d love forever.

Less than two weeks later, Gussie studied herself in the mirror at the wedding dress department. The dress was gorgeous: white with a high waist. Strapless, showing off her nice shoulders. She took a step. The skirt walked with her, stiff and motionless. She spun. The dress spun with her, as if it were a cone attached to her waist.

“What do you think?” she asked Clare and Willow.

“Do you like it?” Willow asked.

“It’s not you, Gus,” Clare said with the honesty of a longtime friend.

“It’s gorgeous,” Willow added. “But it’s not you. I don’t think of you as a traditional bride.”

“I’d like a soft dress that would twirl around me, that would billow out when I turned,” Gussie said. “In this dress, I feel stiff and self-conscious.”

Clare nodded. “It’s not you.”

“The wedding’s at two o’clock, right?” Willow asked. “Isn’t this a little formal for an afternoon wedding? I’m not sure the fabric or length is right.” Willow stood and fingered the satin. “You’re right. It’s not you.”

Dress after dress, even the ivory knee-length gown, received the same reaction from Willow and Clare. “You look marvelous but you don’t look like you.”

“May I suggest something?” the saleswoman said. “We do have a line of bridesmaid’s dresses. Perhaps you could find something you’d like with one of those.”

When the salesclerk returned with several dresses, Gussie’s eyes fell on the exactly right one. Light and floating ivory cotton, it was sleeveless and with an empire waist and round neckline. Full-length and perfectly plain. No lace, no ruffles, no ruching.

“Perfect,” Clare said when Gussie came from the dressing room.

“Lovely. Not what Miss Birdie expected.” Willow studied her. “The Widows are going to regret they allowed you out of town without them,” Willow said. “But this looks perfect.”

May flew by so quickly Adam didn’t remember much about it. A vignette here, a comment there, and a great deal of being with Gussie.

And two new babies.

“You are a beautiful girl,” Adam said to one-week-old Lucy Rose Kowalski when he stopped in for a visit to his neighbors. Because the baby seemed so fragile, so tiny, and he feared he’d hurt her, he held her against him gently and attempted to stop himself from saying terrible baby-cutie sounds. Might work for a next-door neighbor to act gaga but it sounded unprofessional for a minister to say,
Bootiful, bootiful
.

Despite his best efforts, the words popped from his mouth. “Is Lucy-wucie a pwetty, pwetty wittle sweetie?” Before he could embarrass himself further, he handed her back to Ouida and turned to Carol and Gretchen. “What do you big sisters think about Lucy Rose?”

“She’s okay,” Carol said, obviously not impressed with another little sister.

“She cries a lot,” Gretchen said. “But she’s sort of cute.”

Adam pondered the idea of asking George how he felt with another daughter. After all, his plan for the future had included a son, and George liked conformity to his schedule.

Before he could, the father of three daughters lifted Lucy Rose from Ouida’s arms. “Come here, sweetheart.” He rocked her and smiled down at his youngest. “Since I’ve started working at home more, I get to spend time with her.”

“He’s even changed diapers,” Ouida added.

“Yuck,” Carol said and both girls giggled.

“A beautiful, healthy daughter is a blessing,” he said, beaming at the baby. “She’s wonderful.”

They chatted about a date to have Lucy Rose dedicated in the church, then Adam left and headed toward the parsonage. As he walked, he reveled in the Kowalskis’ happiness, at least until his cell rang. Although it was only eight o’clock on a warm Tuesday evening in May, a call after office hours always worried him. Had a member of the congregation died? Been in an accident? Fallen? He flipped the phone open. “Hello?”

“Come quickly,” a man—he thought it might be Sam—shouted.

“What’s the matter?”

“Baby! Hospital!”

With those words, the line went dead. Adam attempted to return the call but it went to voice mail.

He glanced toward the house. Janey was spending the night with a little friend. Not something he allowed on school nights but now that she’d taken the TTYA—the Texas Test of Yearly Accountability that she’d spent all year preparing for—many school days consisted of a visit to Schlitterbahn and field trips and field days and picnics.

He left a message on Hector’s cell to explain he wouldn’t be home, then got in his SUV and drove to the hospital where he parked by the emergency entrance. From Sam’s call, Adam felt it must be an emergency. At the desk he asked for Willow Peterson.

“Good evening, Brother Jordan,” the receptionist said. “She’s in delivery. Take the hall toward the front, second right.” As he left, she added, “You’d better hurry.”

He stopped and turned back. “Are there problems with the delivery?”

“Oh, not with Willow, but the father’s about to have either a stroke or a breakdown.”

When he reached the waiting area, Sam strode back and forth on one end of the room. The other expectant fathers and families crowded together on the other end of the space, away from Sam.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” one of the huddled group said.

“Sam?” Adam said, but his friend didn’t reply. He strode over and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

Sam leaped into the air and executed an ungainly pirouette. Not that Adam would tease him about that now, but he would, later. After all, Sam had been a marine, had fought in Afghanistan, had faced enemy fire—but now he looked terrified.

“She’s having a baby.” Sam gasped and fell into a chair.

Adam sat next to him. “Why aren’t you with her?”

“She kicked me out.” He leaned forward, hands clasped, head down. “I was driving her crazy.”

Adam could understand that.

“Adam.” He looked up, eyes wide with fear.

This was not funny, Adam repeated to himself. He and Sam would talk and laugh about this later but now Sam needed support. Adam listened.

“I’ve never had a baby before,” Sam groaned.

“Well, technically…”

“I know. I’m not literally having the baby, but how ’bout a little understanding here?” Sam snapped. “I could use a little comfort, Preacher. A little support.”

“How is she doing? Are there any problems?”

“The nurses say she’s fine. The obstetrician has checked on her. Everyone says she’s fine.”

Adam didn’t say a word. He felt his comments would further aggravate his friend.

“But Adam, that’s my wife in there and she’s having my baby.”

“Where are the boys?” he asked in an effort to distract Sam.

“They’re with my dad and Winnie. I’m supposed to call them when we know anything.” He leaned back in the chair, closed his eyes, and put his folded arms against his forehead.

“Should I go in and check on her?” Adam asked.

“Yes, find out what’s happening and maybe a prayer.”

Adam stood.

“No, a prayer now,” Sam said as he sprang to his feet.

“You and me and Willow?”

“No, Adam,” he said, his voice filled with frustration because his friend couldn’t understand the simplest request. “With me.”

Adam placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Dear Lord, we pray for peace for Sam. Let him know that You watch over him, that You have his wife and child in Your care. We rejoice in the coming of this new life—”

Before he could complete the sentence, a nurse came into the area and said with a smile, “Mr. Peterson, your wife—”

Sam ran down the hall and passed the nurse in seconds.

“Amen,” Adam finished.

When Sam disappeared, Adam called Gussie to tell her the news, then phoned Sam’s dad to give him an update. After that, he found a magazine that wasn’t too old, sat, and read for an hour. When he’d finished reading an article about…well, he didn’t know the subject of the article because he’d begun to worry. What was taking so long?

He stood and headed toward the nurses’ desk when Sam sauntered into the waiting room with a smile as broad as the entire state. “It’s a girl,” he said.

Adam knew they expected a girl. Sam had known that. He even knew they’d chosen the name Sarah Elizabeth for her. Still, Adam said, “Congratulations.” He grabbed his friend’s hand and pumped it. “How’s Willow?”

“She’s fine. Sarah is beautiful and so tiny.” Sam held his hands about five inches apart.

“Did you call your father and the boys?”

“A minute ago. They’re on their way over.” Sam took a few steps toward a chair and dropped down, placing his head in his hands. “Do you know how lucky I am?” He gazed up at Adam. “Do you remember what I was like when we first met? I was angry, drank too much, and hated everyone.”

“I remember.” Adam sat across from him.