Chapter 12
What a winter. There's no point in describing all the details, because you'd probably get disgusted by the second paragraph, it was that sappy. So was the spring, for that matter. In fact, the spring was probably even worse, what with all that "love is in the air" stuff. All the flowers and candy hearts and calling each other ridiculous names that you used to make fun of but now give your heart a little jump when that special someone says them…it's enough to make anyone, even the most stalwartly, diehard, hopelessly romantic of us puke.
Which brings us to the Choral/Instrumental Concert in mid-May. J and the students involved had been slaving since February to make it perfect. Hence, the night was perfect. Perhaps for some other reasons as well as the beautiful performances…
J's climbed the stage to give a few words at the urging of the students. The concert had been a flawless success; she didn't know what else to say besides giving supreme congratulations to everyone involved. J had just run out of things to say and was blushing at the applause when she spotted Alan making his way up to the podium, proudly brandishing a bouquet of white roses.
J's grin broadened as he walked up and handed her the flowers with a loving smile. There was something peculiar in his eyes, something that made J's heart skip a few beats, but she shook the feeling off. Alan was probably just uncomfortable being in front of this many people (he'd always be terrified of speaking in front of groups) , even if he didn't have to say anything.
As J glanced over the roses, something out of order caught her eye. In the center, amidst all the white, was a drop of red. A red rose? That was odd. J leaned in closer to examine the crimson flower. Strange…it sparkled. Were roses supposed to sparkle? Maybe in the dew, but—J gasped. With a trembling hand, she reached inside the red rose petals and drew out a ring. She tore her eyes from the ring and the bouquet to see Alan down on one knee, a wireless microphone attached to his shirt. J's heart thudded even faster and harder.
Alan waited until J's eyes connected and locked with his, then began. "Jules…I had this whole speech prepared. Then I realized that we would all be here forever and a day if I recited it, and these nice people are waiting to go home. Anyway, I don't want to slaughter the moment with a bunch of jumbled words. Only a handful matter. Jules, will you make my life complete and marry me?"
J hesitated. Well, it wasn't as much hesitate as didn't answer right away. It's rather difficult to answer when your throat contracts, hardens, and a lump makes its way up. When your nose begins to sting and your eyes fill with salty water. A deep breath, and the tears were pushed back. J nodded. "Yes."
Alan's face shone as he took the ring from J and slid it onto her finger. He took hold of both her hands and stood, then pulled her into a hug, followed by a kiss. Somewhere in the audience, near the front, there were a series of quick flashes and snaps of a camera taking pictures.
When they came up for air, the crowd was going wild. J and Alan beamed, cheeks red, to thunderous applause, whistles, and standing ovation. Neither had ever been happier.
***
Alan and J immediately insisted on a wedding that October. October 8, to be precise. The date of their first kiss. To further commemorate that event, the ceremony was going to take place in the field at the side of Coach's house, and it was going to be at night. Not the middle of the night, as their first kiss was, but still night.
This meant that the reception was actually going to be before the wedding. Rather strange indeed, but what else do you expect from these two? Now, J and Alan were shocked at how soon many of the preparations had to be made, including the wedding invitations (they insisted on doing everything themselves). Their wedding planner, Anne, (a referral of Mrs. Bertier) persisted that the invitations be drawn up by the end of June. "This is the busiest wedding season of the year," she claimed. "You need to have those ordered by the end of June so you get them, at the earliest, by early August. Then they must be sent out right away, because any decent couple gives their guests at least two month's notice."
J had squabble after squabble with Anne about just about everything under the sun. On the invitations, J would not let the lettering be gold, and she refused to have a long and what she called "stuffy" message on the invitation. So after much bickering, they finally decided on a simpler message and shiny blue lettering. They did encounter problems, however, when making a list of names. One of the first people on the list appeared merely as "Coach."
"You can't write just that," Anne exclaimed, looking over Alan's shoulder. "What's the rest of his name?" Shrugging his shoulders, Alan wrote "Yoast" after "Coach." Anne frowned. "Surely that man has a first name. What is it?" Alan paused, pencil poised in the air. His brow furrowed in confusion and he squinted at the paper. Anne waited expectantly, hands on her hips. "Well?"
"Ummm…Jules?" J headed out of her room, where she had been rummaging for her address book.
"Yeah?"
"What's Coach's first name?" J stopped in mid-stride. She ran a hand through her hair, deep in thought. Finally she threw up her hands in defeat and grumbled,
"Oh, I don't know! He's your dad, you should know!" Alan shrugged meekly back at her. There was a moment of tense silence before both of them burst out laughing. Anne's jaw dropped and she moved her hands from her hips to wave them widely in the air as she paced.
"I really don't see what's so funny here! Imagine, not even knowing the first name of the father of the groom! Why, I've never heard of such a thing! It most certainly won't do! You MUST find out what his first name is, and right away!"
J and Alan smothered their laughter and continued to gaze at each other, grins on their faces. Anne glared at them, eyebrows raised. J rolled her eyes. "Oh…alright." She flipped through her address book. "I'll call Coach Boone. He'll know."
***
Coach Boone didn't know. Neither did Mrs. Bertier, Sunshine, Petey, or any of the other former members of the Titans. With a disgusted Anne fanning herself on the sofa and J staring in dread at the telephone, there was finally only one other person left to call. "How can we call Coach and tell him that we can't even remember his first name?"
Alan shook his head. "I was hoping you'd know." J took a deep breath, set her jaw, and snatched the phone. She dialed Coach's number and waited for the answer. IT ran. And rang and rang. Before too long, the answering machine kicked in.
"You've reached the home of Bill Yoast. I'm not home right now, but if you leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you and have a nice day."
J hung up the phone with a click. "Well, that was insanely easy."
***
The rest of the wedding preparations over the summer went much the same. In fact, there's really nothing else to be told until the wedding. Oh! Except for one thing…
