Ghosts of Honor

Chapter 1-3

“Oops.” I handed Goose his, a gold band with the letter G, the one he would put on my finger. “We were on the same page, like always.” My smile brought one from him.

“The story of our life, death, and life again,” he said, passing the right ring to me.

“Dang it!” Shelby brought her palm to her forehead. “Pregnancy brain.”

Goose offered a hug. “My favorite part of any movie or TV wedding, Shell, is the little stumble, the moment someone screws up,” he told her. “This is our moment, one we’ll remember and tell the baby about until he or she is as old as we are now.”

Rip snuggled into Shelby once Goose let her free.

“I love my ring,” I said. “I can pretend I didn’t see it, if you want.”

Goose smiled again, maybe still, for all this time. “A simple gold band, like Jefferson and Daniel’s, only with my initial, so you can look down and think of me.”

“Same.” Still amazed we had both gone that customary route, I also somehow wasn’t.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Mae prompted.

“With this ring, I thee wed.” Rather than putting it on my waiting finger, Goose brought it close to his beaming handsome face. “I inscribed it. It was a dark and stormy night,” he read. “Your first words to me, Patrick.”

“Yes. I remember.”

“Rain and thunder, snow and sun, together forever.”

The band, like my Goose, was a perfect fit.

Another roll of thunder and Mae kept things moving. “Patrick?”

“With this ring, I thee wed. My idea of Heaven surely includes you, no matter where we are.” I’d inscribed his, too. “The more I thought about rings,” I said, “my ring to you, I wanted to go this way, because I never want to take for granted the fact we’re married, in every traditional sense of the word, when not so long ago, that wasn’t possible.”

“I was actually thinking the same thing. The way the wedding bands in the jewelry case at Cost-Mart lit up when the lights were out the night we were snowed in, I kept remembering that, too. As you so eloquently once said to Jefferson and Daniel, ‘Just like any other couple in love, a ceremony, two rings, a song or two, and a kiss…’ Somehow, the longstanding tradition of it all still seems new and special.”

“And we now wear each other’s initial twice,” I pointed out.

“On our fingers,” Goose said.

“And at our hearts,” I added.

“Are we ready to move on to the final song?” Mae asked when we looked back to her. “And then that kiss you spoke of?”

“We are.”

Goose nodded in agreement with me.

“Carrie.”

As she rose, once called to by Mae, several phones blared, an alarm of some sort, causing us all to jump.

“Uh-oh. Tornado warning,” Rip explained.

Amongst anxious chatter, the sky let us know the storm was upon us, as a bright flash was followed by the strongest roll of thunder yet, one that shook the Tennessee earth.

“I’m thinking we should bolt.” Goose looked as if he’d just seen a ghost, though not the ones he wanted to.

“Yes.” I took his hand. He still hated thunderstorms. “We can finish the rest at the—”

Large raindrops interrupted my words, not a deluge, just a few, but big enough to splash upon hitting flesh. They were quite lovely, actually. Nami turned up her palm, to let a few ping against it. Carrie did the same. Then, they looked at one another and smiled.

The wonder was short lived. Several people squealed, like Toto might, had she not been bone dry under the protection of Mother’s silk clutch. Bless her heart for caring more about my baby than her Judith Leiber bag. Our guests began to scatter, darting for cover, as the falling rain quickly condensed and multiplied.

“Everyone go!” I urged. “I’ll get the monitor and the candles.”

“I’ll get the electronics,” Goose told me. “Bye Tate and Micha!”

“Be careful!” Micha shouted back. “Congratulations!”

“Be safe,” Tate yelled. “Be happy,” he managed, right before their separate images on the big screen disappeared.

“You go ahead.” I held Goose only long enough to kiss his cheek, once he’d covered the sensitive equipment with its protective heavy tarp. “I’ll play fire extinguisher.”

“Everything is better if we do it together.” He jumped when the next clap of thunder boomed, but took my hand, determined to help me.

“That it is, my love.”

“Take it easy, Shell,” Goose called out, as she and Rip reached the row of vehicles. “Keep Wilbur safe.”

“We will, Bro-ford.”

Wilbur looked quite content and comfortable, snuggled to Rip’s chest under his jacket.

Fortunately, the parking lot was close. Facing one direction, we could almost fool ourselves into believing we were deeply secluded in the woods. A one hundred eighty-degree turn revealed the true setting, a small, built up section of town, where Cone Heads and a couple of other business establishments sat. Our guests were all in their cars within seconds, on the road in just one or two more. With the candles all dealt with, Goose and I headed for ours, my SUV. I kissed him the moment we were safe behind its closed doors, because, as I’d often said, he looked really good wet.

“Remember in Heaven, how I said it should rain on our wedding day?” Goose looked into my eyes.

“I do,” I said.

“Aww. I’ve been waiting to hear and say those words all day. And yet, we never quite got to them.”

“Later, my almost husband.” We’d added more vows toward the end of the service, after the rings, before the kiss, just to utter the important two syllables.

“Love is patient. Sometimes, I’m not,” Goose reminded me.

“Then let’s get moving.” When I pressed the ignition, all I got was a buzzing sound. “Second time’s the charm.” It wasn’t. The car refused to turn over.

“Uh-oh.” Goose reached for my glasses. He dried them on his undershirt, then carefully put them back on me.

“Thank you, Love Camel.” After a slight adjustment, I tried the ignition a third time. “My obstructed vison, apparently, wasn’t the problem, however. No go.”

“Well, it’s dry in here, at least, even if we’re not. We could just wait out the bad weather, or I could check under the hood.”

My mechanical ability went only so far as checking the terminals on the battery and making sure everything I was staring down at looked “normal.” Goose would recognize a problem far easier. He was a mechanical magician. “We’re in this together,” I said. “If you get wetter, so do I.”

The open hood offered some protection, but small streams of rain still trickled down behind my collar, meandering the length of my back. I shivered more than once.

“This was a bad idea,” Goose decided. “I’m not seeing anything obvious.” He had to shout over the downpour and occasional thunder. “Let’s check again when it calms down some.”

Trying the starter once back in the driver’s seat, not surprisingly, proved futile. Waiting while wet was our only option.

I pushed Goose’s slick hair back from his forehead. “Maybe the top hats would have been a good idea, after all.”

His smile made up for a lack of sunshine. I was suddenly warm. Life was suddenly brighter. “Your big bushy beard is all sparkly with raindrops.” He touched some, and we kissed several times, over and over, likely never to have stopped, except for the ring of a phone.

“Shell,” Goose said to me. “Yo,” he said to her upon answering.

“It’s Rip.”

I was close enough to hear.

“Is Shelby okay?” Goose sat up straighter in is seat.

“Yes. A little winded from hurrying to get in out of the rain, but nothing major.”

“Have her lie down.”

“They want us to move to the basement,” Rip said.

“Who does?”

“The people running the inn. Where are you two?”

“Patrick’s car won’t start.”

“Uh oh.”

“My words exactly. We’re gonna ride out the storm, and then walk back your way.”

“NORAD put out another alert,” Rip told us. “A tornado has touched down in the area. We’ll be fine, but you guys…There are a lot of trees around you.”

“Yes. One in particular is the main reason we’re here.”

“Understood, but I don’t think it’ll protect you or hurt any less if it falls on you.”

“Yikes.”

“Just saying, Bro-ford.”

“The church.” I nudged Goose gently.

We’d recently spoken with the deacon of the old white church near Daniel and Jefferson’s oak tree. The structure itself had originally appeared to us on their wedding day, in Heaven. Then, we found it in this realm, first online, later in person, nearly hidden by Cone Heads. Knowing our history with the Porter family, the deacon told us we were welcome inside anytime. “The door is always open, day and night. That’s how a church should be.”

Though his words had shocked us at the time, I was grateful for them now.

“We’re gonna try the church,” Goose told Rip. “There’s probably a basement or cellar there.”

“Okay. Call me back when you get there. Be careful, Bro-ford. You, too, Bro-ski.”

“We will,” Goose promised. “You guys be safe, too.” After ending the call, with his hand on the door handle, “Should we count down, or just take off?” he asked.

“One, two, three—”

“Wait.”

“Seriously.”

“Just a second.” Goose reached into the back seat. “This.” He held up a wedding gift Shelby had presented to us at arrival. Shirt-box in size and shape, it was wrapped in pretty silver jacquard paper with a huge purple bow I couldn’t wait to tear into. “Now, go!”

Hand in hand, we made our getaway. Soaked to the skin by the time we were partway up the hill behind the ice cream shop, once finally at the church, I had to fumble for the doorknob, my glasses too wet to see through, again.

The thunder made Goose jump. “It’s a dark and stormy night.”

“Which is a nice, as long as we’re inside.” I let him go first. “It’s warmer in here, I hope. Brr.”

Goose pressed into me, wetness to wetness, and I pulled him close with my arms wrapped around him, once the door had closed leaving the inclement weather behind. “Inside is perfect, Patty Cake, as long as you’re here, too.”

The wind started to howl.

“Should we head to the basement?” I asked.

“Sounds like we better.”

My phone rang on the way, my mother, checking up on us, just as I was about to check on her.

“Everyone is fine,” she said. “The basement isn’t half bad. They brought in some folding chairs, cider, and doughnuts. We can have a nice little Halloween wedding reception. All that’s missing is you two.”

“We’ll be along soon enough, I promise.”

“Keep us posted, Paddy.”

“Will do. Love you, Mom. Help our two little ones not be scared.”

The church basement was a bit sparser. Goose and I would be sitting on the floor, up against a concrete wall or a closet door.

“I wonder if there are snacks in there. I’m suddenly hungry.”

“Will a show of affection help? I now kiss the groom.” And then, I did.

“Kiss him again.”

“You kiss me this time.”

“With pleasure. Mmm.”

When Goose’s stomach growled, I had to point it out. “Mr. Rumbly tumbly.” Then I kissed him down there, my lips against wet, black fabric, close enough to hear rumbling again.

“What can I say? I’m insatiable.”

“Well, there are plenty more where that came from.” I took his hand. “But let’s see if we can find something more filling.”

The closet held mostly paper goods, but also a case of juice boxes and a large bin of individual snack packs, cookies, chips, and saltines.

“Trick or treat?” I asked, closing the door to hide the treasure.

“Treat.”

I grabbed a small pack of buttery crackers and held them out for him. “The Cracker Line is open! Full rations, boys.”

“Yum.”

With those and apple juice, we got comfortable, as comfortable as we could sopping wet, while the wind whipped outside, and debris smacked and scraped across the small casement windows.

When Goose snuggled into me, I wrapped my arms around him, and we fed each other crackers. Once the tiny bag was empty, far too quickly as far as I was concerned, I wondered how many we could polish off between us.

“Let’s open the gift.” Goose had other things on his mind.

“Will Shelby be upset?”

“I don’t think so.” He was already working the ribbon down over one end. “She said it was a little something extra.” Like a six-year-old on a different kiddie holiday, Goose made quick work of the paper, and then handed the box to me. “We share everything, now. You open it.”

The box contained a bound leather book, like a photo album. That was what I’d been expecting, pictures. Upon turning back the cover, I discovered paper instead, letters, it seemed, between vinyl pages secured with loose leaf rings. “Rip and I visited a romance museum way back—”

“Hold up.” Goose interrupted my reading. “A romance museum?”

“That’s what it says.”

“A romance museum? Only my bro-ham, he of the Civil War reenactments and a laminated library card, would put those two words in the same sentence.”

I cleared my throat and scowled, albeit in jest. “Are you forgetting, dear Goose, as we sit here on our wedding night, almost married, that we met right here in this state, on a night just like this, at said Civil War reenactment? Even more importantly, have you forgotten I was running it?”