Chapter 8

Mrs. Beecher sat in the living room, sipping champagne and nervously picking a hangnail.

"Jesus, what's keeping her?" she said for the hundredth time.

Mr. Beecher turned from the window and shook his head.

"If you don't shut up, goddamnit, I'm going to cancel this wedding," he rasped. "I've got enough problems without your bitching about Janice being late."

"Well, she's been up there two hours. It doesn't take that long to get into a wedding gown, especially with those two girls helping her."

"Shut up, for chrissake. Why aren't you up there with her, for that matter?"

"I told you. Janice said she didn't want me there. She wants to surprise us."

"Huh. Some surprise. We've both seen the dress. I've also seen the bill for it. Thank God we've only got one daughter."

Mrs. Beecher lifted her eyes to her husband and sighed.

"Sometimes I wonder about you, dear," she murmured. "I would've thought this day would be something special for you."

"It is, believe me," he replied in a somewhat softer tone. "It reminds me of our wedding, and Christ knows that was a mess."

Mrs. Beecher looked away and bit her lip.

"It only got to be a mess afterwards," she said sadly. "After I got to be forty."

"All right. All right. This is no time for post-mortems."

She nodded.

"That's the right word. At least now Janice is married, or almost married, you'll feel free to do whatever you want about our situation."

"Oh, shut up."

At that moment, there was a subdued murmur of voices from the top of the stairs, and two bridesmaids came flitting down, their skirts rustling behind them.

"Miz Beecher," said the first one in a pronounced Southern accent, "Janice is coming now."

"Good. The cars are waiting out front."

Mr. Beecher moved to the foot of the stairs and looked up. At the top he saw Janice, her foot on the top step, lifting her train and carefully preparing to descend. He gasped, and his eyes dimmed.

"Oh, baby, you look beautiful." he breathed.

"Thank you, Daddy," she said, and slowly moved down toward him. Mrs. Beecher had come up behind her husband, and stood dabbing her eyes.

"Janice, you're the loveliest bride ever," she said, her voice breaking.

Mr. Beecher held out his hand and took Janice's, and together they moved to the front door. Outside the Continental was waiting, the uniformed chauffeur holding the back door open. Behind it stood the black Cadillac.

Mr. Beecher and Janice got in the first car; Mrs. Beecher and the two bridesmaids climbed in the second, and slowly the procession moved out of the driveway and on to the street.

"Nervous, hon?" asked Mr. Beecher.

Janice shook her head.

"Not a bit," she said gaily. "But I'll be glad when it's over."

"I bet you will," he grunted. Then he smiled. "You know where you're going for honeymoon?"

She shook her head.

"Glenn's keeping it a surprise," she said truthfully, "but I'm guessing it's going to be the Bahamas. He let slip something about a cabin on the beach on an island. I figured the Bahamas."

"Hm. Well, a motel in Fort Worth would probably do just as well," Mr. Beecher said bluntly. "You'll probably not move out of bed for a week."

"Daddy!"

"Don't look so shocked. When your mother and I were married, we didn't go anywhere. We locked the bedroom door and threw away the key." he chuckled. "Your mother was quite a gal then. It's a pity she ain't the same today."

Janice looked at her father intently.

"Maybe you aren't the same, either, Daddy."

"All right, all right. We won't talk about that now. It's your future we're concerned about, not mine."

The car raced through the streets and pulled up outside the church on Lovers' Lane. A large crowd was already waiting, and heads craned forward to catch a glimpse of the occupants of the cars.

"It's her!"

"It's Janice!"

"Ooooh, doesn't she look lovely?"

The comments rose in the soft afternoon air as Janice stepped out and moved slowly on her father's arm into the church. She smiled at the sea of faces surrounding the steps, recognizing a few, oblivious to the rest. Then her heart skipped a beat as, standing at the back of the crowd, she saw a Western hat atop a head that rang a familiar chord, a frantic stab of memory from weeks before. Oh, God, she thought, it's not Elton, surely.

"Come on, dear, what's the matter?"

Mr. Beecher tugged at her arm, and before she could see better who it was in the crowd she had been led inside. As she stood in the church, her heart was beating unnaturally. Suppose it was Elton-maybe he brought Curt and Smiley with him? Oh, well, what if it was? What could they do? They certainly weren't there to cause trouble, surely.

As she walked down the aisle, she saw Emily Holt sitting over to one side, together with two friends from Dallas. Emily grinned at her and waved discreetly. Keep going, Janice thought, it'll soon be over. Just another few more steps, a few mumbled words, and she'd be Mrs. Glenn Harrington, and she'd be able to go away with the man she loved, and live happily ever after...

"You may now kiss the bride."

Janice looked up at Glenn, who stepped forward and lifted her veil. Gently his lips descended on hers, and she clung to him for a moment, then pushed against him and held on. There was a soft murmur from the assembled men and women, and a few titters. Breathlessly they broke apart, and Janice smiled happily.

"I love you," she whispered almost inaudibly.

"Me, too," came the soft reply, and they both turned and began walking slowly out of the church. She saw a few women dabbing their eyes, and everyone was smiling, and Janice had never felt so wonderful, so completely uplifted. It had been a beautiful ceremony, she thought. Oh, Glenn, at last, at long last. No more tedious recriminations. No more feelings of guilt, for even though she had pushed most of her remorse aside she still had experienced moments of regret. Now it was all over; she was legally married. She could do whatever she wanted with Glenn and even her conscience couldn't talk back anymore.

Even the passing twinge of fear at thinking she had seen Elton in the crowd had passed. Nothing could harm her now; no one could spoil it. She had nothing to worry about, nothing at all. Even the few times she and Glenn had indulged each other were no more source of concern. After that first night they had had sex only three times, and each time it had been more wonderful than before. But she had grown weary of the front seat of the car, and even the back seat proved comfortable. She had longed for a bed where they could both stretch out and enjoy each other in comfort, with no fear of interruption, with nothing to do but relax and let their emotions carry them into their own little private world of pleasure!

"Hold it!"

She looked up and saw a photographer in the doorway, camera poised.

They stood still, smiling, and the flashbulbs dazzled their eyes, and then they moved outside into the bright afternoon sunshine, and cheers and cries of enthusiasm rang in their ears. Janice smiled and ducked as the rice began flying through the air. Glenn took her arm and led her quickly down the steps. At the bottom she stumbled, and he held her and lifted her up.

"Watch it there. You don't want to drop her!"

Janice raised her eyes and looked straight into Elton's grinning face. Her heart skipped a beat, and her eyes widened for a moment of fear.

"Hello, Elton," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

"Howdy, and congratulations," he drawled, his eyes looking over Glenn and then back to her.

"Thank you," she murmured, and moved on, hanging on to Glenn's arm. He helped her into the car, and as they settled back he looked at her curiously.

"Who was that?" he asked.

"Someone I knew once," she replied.

"He sounded like he knew you very well," Glenn said.

"I guess he did," she replied. "But then he didn't marry me like you did."

She leaned forward and kissed him.

"No, I guess he didn't," said Glenn, taking her hand and squeezing it firmly.

The car moved forward, and Janice looked back through the window. She saw Elton, standing at the sidewalk, gazing after the vehicle, tall, handsome and broad-shouldered in his formal Western outfit. He waved his hand, and at that moment Emily Holt came down the steps and over to him. She took hold of his arm and smiled up at him.

"Well, she did make a beautiful bride," she said.

"Yeah, she did at that."

"Jealous?" Emily's face was almost sneering.

Elton looked at her and laughed loudly. "Hell, no, I ain't the marryin' kind," he said briefly. "Besides, why would I want to tie myself up with a little filly like that when there's brood mares like you around, just waiting for stud service?"

She put her hand on his arm and squeezed gently.

"You're a bastard, Elton," she said calmly. "It's lucky I love every inch of you."

"You get your money's worth," he commented, grinning confidently down at her. "Come on, let's go get drunk together."

"Do we have to?"

"When I'm with you, yes. It makes it easier."

She sniffed.

"You really are a bastard," she said.