Blessing

(August 30, 2017)

1

The next day would be Dipper's eighteenth birthday.

And Wendy Corduroy couldn't sleep. Because.

Because of a lot of things. For a change, Dipper and Mabel weren't riding back to Piedmont on a bus, or driving themselves, or even flying down on an airplane. Instead, their dad and mom were coming to pick them up here, in Gravity Falls.

Because, though Wendy had met Mr. and Mrs. Pines many times—and though Mr. Pines especially was fond of her and talked her up—tomorrow she'd meet them in a whole different way.

Because "Mom, Dad," Dipper would tell them, "this is the girl I'm going to marry."

And—what?

Normally Wendy could stick her chin out and deal with anything, from a chimera to an animated mummy to a ghost. Normally she was fearless. But tonight—

What if Mrs. Pines brings up the age thing?

No, I'm twenty, he's eighteen, big deal! My dad was younger than my mom when they married! Dipper says his mom's six months older than his dad, too. She doesn't let anybody know that, though.

And look at Ford and Stan! Decades, man!

But—Dipper's always been his mom's favorite. What if she, like, hates the idea and disowns him? I couldn't come between him and his mom. So—what will I do then?

She tossed and she turned so much that finally she couldn't stand it, got up, dressed, and quietly left the Corduroy cabin.

Maybe a walk in the woods would calm her. She walked straight back from the house, down a path through the woods that led to a shallow tinkling creek, crossed the creek on a tree trunk her dad had felled and then adzed off level to make a rough bridge, and started an upward climb that came out on the treeless crest of a hill.

She noticed how quiet it was—no insects, no owls, no wind. Bright moonlight making everything silvery and blue-shadowed.

Standing alone, with her arms crossed, Wendy stood there looking at the distant lights of town, bathed in the glow of a full moon, directly overhead—Must be midnight.

"No," Dipper said. "Later, I think. And the moon's really only just past first quarter. I think you're dreaming."

"Dude!" She turned around. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

Dipper shrugged. "I think I'm dreaming, too."

They embraced, and it felt warm and real enough. She leaned her forehead against his. "I still got two inches on you, Dip," she said fondly.

"You wear flats to the wedding," he said. "I'll wear heels."

That made her laugh. "Is this real?"

"I . . . don't know. We'll talk about it tomorrow and see who remembers what."

"This is weird, man. I never had a dream this intense."

"Nice weird, though," he said. They kissed, and that felt real too.

They heard a cough and looked around. Wendy wasn't surprised—though probably she should have been—to see Archibald Corduroy standing there, just at the edge of the forest. He had both eyes and looked younger than he had appeared to Dipper years before. And he had no axe embedded in his head, either, which improved his looks.

"Great-great granddad?" she asked.

He smiled and nodded. "Wendy. Someone wants to see you. I said I'd make the introduction. Hello, Dipper. Sorry about that turning you into wood thing."

"It's OK, man. You had issues."

"It's been a pleasure watching my little descendant here grow up to be a fine woman. And I know you're going to be a good man." He waved off anything they might have said in response and turned and beckoned. "Come on," he said in a surprisingly gentle voice.

From the forest at the foot of the hill walked—another Wendy.

"What?" Wendy asked. "Dude, who—"

"I'm your mother," the woman said softly as she stopped a few steps away. "Not the way I looked the last time you saw me, all wasted and sick. This is the way I looked when I was your age."

Her red hair was a lot shorter, but otherwise—they could have been twins. Like Wendy, Mrs. Corduroy wore a flannel shirt, jeans, and boots. "Wendy, Dipper," Archibald said, "this is Wendy's mother, Mrs. Amanda Blerble Corduroy."

Wendy said, "Oh!" She stepped forward. "I—can I touch you?"

Mrs. Corduroy smiled and spread her arms, and Wendy rushed into them. "I missed you so bad," Wendy said, her voice muffled.

Her mother stroked her long hair. "I've been watching you," she said softly. "I was never very far away." She raised her hand and gestured, and Dipper came over shyly and grasped it. "Mason Pines," Mrs. Corduroy said. "Or shall I call you Dipper?"

"Whatever you want, ma'am," Dipper said.

Then Wendy's mother embraced them both at once and kissed first Wendy, then Dipper. "I want you to know you have my blessing," she whispered. "I want you to tell Dan that, too." Her voice became a little sad. "I can't appear to him, you see. He misses me too much, and it would break his heart. But tell him you saw me and that I still love him just as much as I ever did."

Wendy stepped away—not far—and stared at her. In a weeping and laughing voice, she said, "You know what? I never knew your last name was Blerble before you married dad! Not until, like, two years ago! See, Dad wouldn't ever tell me my middle name, just that my initial was B."

"Oh, Dan can be so stubborn! My father was Henry Ward Blerble," she said. "My grandfather welcomed Dan into the family. My father, well, father thought Dan was too young and too poor for me and didn't. And Dan was an awfully proud man. I saw my father often enough after Dan and I were married, and he knew I was happy, but he went his way and Dan went his. The two of them never spoke, and even when we were poor, Dan wouldn't accept any help from him." She touched Wendy's cheek. "But don't be concerned about yourself. I have it on good authority that Mrs. Pines is going to be very happy with your announcement, darling. Stop worrying."

"Thank you, Mom," Wendy said.

"Dipper," Mrs. Corduroy said, "Don't you be afraid tomorrow. Just tell your mother, while you hold Wendy's hand. Just say it: We're in love, and we're going to be married. She already knows Wendy's good for you." She winked. "We mothers know more about love than you young folks think we do."

Archibald led Dipper off a little way and let the womenfolk have their talk, as he said. Archibald spoke of the forest and how much and how little it had changed in the last century and a half. Dipper listened. And some time afterward—too soon—Wendy came and took his hand and they turned and the ghosts were gone.

"I guess we have to wake up now," Wendy said sadly.

"I guess so. I love you so much."

"I love you, Big Dipper. More than I can say."

And mumbling, "More than I can say," Wendy opened her eyes and realized she was in bed. The clock's display said it was nearly three in the morning. Her phone chimed—Dipper's ring. She rolled over, got it, and thumbed it on. "Hi."

"Uh—hi. Wendy, sorry for calling this late. I just woke up. I had this dream—"

"I was there," Wendy said. "I know."

"Uh—on the hilltop? And we got your mom's blessing?" he asked tentatively.

"Yeah. We did."

His voice sounded joyful: "It was real."

She gently corrected him: "It is real."

"Yeah," he said. "It is real."

And that was all they needed to say.