left orders for bed rest and more X-rays this afternoon. In fact, I wouldn’t even count on him being discharged tomorrow. Could be the day after.”
Well, that gave me some breathing room, and I hung up the phone with a lightening of my heart. I was also glad that Junior wasn’t over there dying on us, too.
I struck number 3 off my list.
Chapter 12
Leaning my head back, I massaged the pressure points on my temples. Goody’s Headache Powders weren’t giving me the fast relief I was looking for, but it was sleep that I really needed. Lying back, I began to think of my next call and what I should say to the Reverend Buster Haliday. I wasn’t what you might call an every-Sunday-churchgoing person, but I did show up now and again. Back at the beginnings of both my marriages, I’d been real faithful, singing in the choir and doing every-member canvasses with the best of them. I’d wanted to do my part as a respectable married woman, keeping house, going to church, and being a helpmate to whoever the husband of the moment happened to be. But as each of those marriages started on the downhill slide, I’d given up trying to be what it looked like I never would be. At least not without the help of whoever was supposed to be a helpmate to me.
But with Mr. Howard I could start over again, and maybe get it right this time.
I looked up the reverend’s home number since it was still early, and felt a burden roll off my mind when he said he’d be happy to unite two Christian parties in holy matrimony to the everlasting glory of God. I didn’t tell him exactly who the other party was going to be, but I assured him the other party had been a Methodist all his life, which seemed to me to be as much of a Christian as anybody needed. The reverend hesitated over the Methodist part, saying that the Wesleyan belief in backsliding and falling from grace put them on questionable grounds. Theologically speaking. I told him, though, that the other party of whom I was speaking was a faithful Methodist, pledging annual tithes and donating an organ and a memorial garden to his first wife, and surely that proved he hadn’t fallen too far, if at all.
Reverend Haliday agreed to marry us anytime we showed up, either late that afternoon or first thing the next morning. So much for my dream of being married in a big church on Main Street, with a photographer and rice and everything, but one preacher’s as good as another when you’re in a tight spot.
• • •
Close to seven-thirty and time to get dressed. I crossed through number 4 on my list, drained the last of my Coke, and headed for the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I saw the effects of a sleepless night. Time for some intensive facial care. I smeared on Oil of Olay Foaming Face Wash with Aloe Vera to clean it good. After putting hot rollers in my hair, I started in with moisturizer and foundation, then some sparkly blue eye shadow, with a dark blue liner. Then I dabbed on two coats of Maybelline and brushed a nice peach blush on my cheekbones.
It was a shame I had to dress for my possible late afternoon wedding that early in the day, but there’d be no time to change later on. I didn’t know what I’d wear if we had to wait till the next day, because I intended to go all out for the afternoon. Pushing aside hangers in the closet, I pulled out my newest and best dress that I’d worn to church on Easter and only a couple of times since then. I was real proud of it because it was a designer dress from the Kathie Lee Collection at Walmart’s and looked like a million dollars on me. If I’d had the chance, I’d’ve bought something new for my wedding, but at least this was mostly white. A quality 100 percent rayon classic white dress with black polka dots. Signifying, I guess, my marital experiences of the past.
I slipped it on and ran my hands over it, admiring how it fit so close and smooth from my breasts to below my hips, then flared out at the bottom above my
Well, that gave me some breathing room, and I hung up the phone with a lightening of my heart. I was also glad that Junior wasn’t over there dying on us, too.
I struck number 3 off my list.
Chapter 12
Leaning my head back, I massaged the pressure points on my temples. Goody’s Headache Powders weren’t giving me the fast relief I was looking for, but it was sleep that I really needed. Lying back, I began to think of my next call and what I should say to the Reverend Buster Haliday. I wasn’t what you might call an every-Sunday-churchgoing person, but I did show up now and again. Back at the beginnings of both my marriages, I’d been real faithful, singing in the choir and doing every-member canvasses with the best of them. I’d wanted to do my part as a respectable married woman, keeping house, going to church, and being a helpmate to whoever the husband of the moment happened to be. But as each of those marriages started on the downhill slide, I’d given up trying to be what it looked like I never would be. At least not without the help of whoever was supposed to be a helpmate to me.
But with Mr. Howard I could start over again, and maybe get it right this time.
I looked up the reverend’s home number since it was still early, and felt a burden roll off my mind when he said he’d be happy to unite two Christian parties in holy matrimony to the everlasting glory of God. I didn’t tell him exactly who the other party was going to be, but I assured him the other party had been a Methodist all his life, which seemed to me to be as much of a Christian as anybody needed. The reverend hesitated over the Methodist part, saying that the Wesleyan belief in backsliding and falling from grace put them on questionable grounds. Theologically speaking. I told him, though, that the other party of whom I was speaking was a faithful Methodist, pledging annual tithes and donating an organ and a memorial garden to his first wife, and surely that proved he hadn’t fallen too far, if at all.
Reverend Haliday agreed to marry us anytime we showed up, either late that afternoon or first thing the next morning. So much for my dream of being married in a big church on Main Street, with a photographer and rice and everything, but one preacher’s as good as another when you’re in a tight spot.
• • •
Close to seven-thirty and time to get dressed. I crossed through number 4 on my list, drained the last of my Coke, and headed for the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, I saw the effects of a sleepless night. Time for some intensive facial care. I smeared on Oil of Olay Foaming Face Wash with Aloe Vera to clean it good. After putting hot rollers in my hair, I started in with moisturizer and foundation, then some sparkly blue eye shadow, with a dark blue liner. Then I dabbed on two coats of Maybelline and brushed a nice peach blush on my cheekbones.
It was a shame I had to dress for my possible late afternoon wedding that early in the day, but there’d be no time to change later on. I didn’t know what I’d wear if we had to wait till the next day, because I intended to go all out for the afternoon. Pushing aside hangers in the closet, I pulled out my newest and best dress that I’d worn to church on Easter and only a couple of times since then. I was real proud of it because it was a designer dress from the Kathie Lee Collection at Walmart’s and looked like a million dollars on me. If I’d had the chance, I’d’ve bought something new for my wedding, but at least this was mostly white. A quality 100 percent rayon classic white dress with black polka dots. Signifying, I guess, my marital experiences of the past.
I slipped it on and ran my hands over it, admiring how it fit so close and smooth from my breasts to below my hips, then flared out at the bottom above my
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